The Caged Raven

The world was no longer as it had once been. It had died so many years before and yet it stood, a ghost of its former self raped of both its riches and gifts, charred beyond recognition and cold. The perfect breeding ground for the demons that had reveled in the human gluttony. The ones who had been charged with the protection of God's children and the Earth had been extinguished early on, and their talents had long since been forgotten. Chaos and anarchy reigned supreme and the barren ground had been tainted red with blood. Screams echoed through the night’s sky and came to her ears, pleading for revenge. The small woman tilted her head back and listened once again. Revenge for her kin, left to rot by her unyielding enemy. She licked her lips and stood.


A God that had become nothing more than a memory had blessed her with psychic abilities and endurance for pain. She was quick, muscular, a supreme weapon. He would also be made of such things, she knew this. The demon king, the brood from hell Macnayer; a force to most certainly be reckoned with. He was a pure blooded demon, the closest thing to a god walking the planet; a sworn immortal. His rule was gained in a way that would not be soon forgotten; a violent blood spill. He had killed them all, leaving her alone.


The woman studied her reflection in a muddy puddle. Her name was Raven, and of all that had ever stood her ground against Macnayer she would be the strongest. And yet, she hesitated. When they met upon a battle field would she be able to stand her ground against such a force or would he swat her aside like he had so many who had come before her? Her throat was dry and the acidic taste of bile burned the back of her tongue.
He stood only a few meters away, patiently awaiting her approach. His eyes flashed and he nodded as she challenged him to a duel. Macnayer looked her up and down twice over, and found her quite attractive. She has large jade eyes, deep black ebony hair and olive skin. She stood five feet and three inches tall, about a foot shorter than he was. He estimated her age, her ability; she couldn’t have been too old.


"So little girl, you really wish to challenge me?" Raven nodded in response. "You are aware of my power then, and what I have accomplished? Don’t think I’ll have mercy on you because you’re a woman." Raven nodded once more, if it was pain he was promising she welcomed it. Pain would remind her of her humanity.


Macnayer rose to his feet. He was a taunt muscular man, and had same blonde hair his ancestor's had once carried and eyes a deep ocean blue. The perfect demon. Raven, was unfazed by his size, face, or hair. Power was measured my one’s mental strength, one’s knowledge of alchemy, one’s speed and agility. Size played such a little factor, Raven for a moment smiled.


"You have stolen from me everything that ever mattered. Every person I ever loved and for that I have come to repay the favor and take your life." The words left her like a whisper and had he not nodded she would have gladly said them again.


Macnayer accepted her challenge. "I will fight you girl, however if I win you will become my concubine." A broad smile graced his features. “Death for someone like you would be too much of an escape, but to have you on your back…beneath me…”


"I accept your challenge." Raven felt the bile rise once more and her stomach churned. Reassurance was doing little now but she convinced herself the outcome would be in her favor. If not then a warrior’s death, there was no shame in suicide if it was in honor.


The battle began swiftly as the two clashed coming together and moving apart as if in a dance. Macnayer landed upon his feet like a cat, moving quicker than his bulk should have allowed. Raven bit her lip and dug her hands in the mud before springing back at him. She flew at him and over him leaving an ornate blade impaled in his right bicep. She cursed her aim and turned. Something happened then however that Raven had not anticipated. Macnayer had demon blood, and was blessed in ways that made him godlike.


He turned around slowly and pulled free the blade. Raven tensed ready to spring aside if the weapon was launched at her. But it fell instead, numbly to her enemy’s feet. Raven stumbled unsure of what her enemy’s next move would be. And then he was at her. Raven felt an invisible force take hold of her neck and propel her backwards. Then another sense, something sharper, something that held her in place while stripping her of both her armor and her strength. Raven gasped and clawed at her neck, the sound of her opponent’s voice echoing in her head. He was a yard away his arms folded across his chest, the wound she had inflicted all but healed.


She felt a darkness overcoming her and moved to it as if it were a sanctuary. Her hands fell to her sides and her nude body fell into the mud like a disposed rag doll. Her mind recounted the fact that she had been defeated and passed into unconsciousness. Macnayer smiled wickedly and went to claim his prize. He picked her up and flung her over his shoulder. He looked up into the cloudy sky as the first signs of a winter rain greeted him, falling onto his skin. He licked his lips and laughed aloud. No one could touch him; he was king and king he would remain.


The duel had taken place in the shadow of his castle, something Macnayer found himself thankful for. The small delicate form in his grasp made him react in ways most animalistic and he found himself more than ready to have a bit of fun with the prize of the spat.


Raven's mind sought solace in the depths of unconsciousness. She was no longer worthy of an honorable death. Her ancestors stood around her chastising her and her mind turned into a vast blackness. She had sorely underestimated her opponent, had left her mind open for his psychic attacks, and had made a deal with a sadist. Her life was now over and only the promise of sweet unyielding pain was left. Pain she would revel in.


The sharp sting of tears struck her muddy cheeks and silent sobs slipped from her throat as she was brought back to consciousness. She didn’t understand tear or why they flowed so freely. Yet she cried and made no attempt to cease the whimpering. Her body was shivering from cold and her stomach churned again; she was to be a bed maiden of a man she had wanted to kill. If she died a warrior’s death there would be no welcome waiting for her in the afterlife, only the ferryman to take her into the deepest and darkest depths of hell.


Macnayer entered the castle and proceeded to the nearest bedchamber. He tossed Raven aside, with an accentuated indifference and walked out another door after locking everything in his wake including a chest and the door they had entered from. Raven found she was lying on the silk bed. It smelled incredible and was softer than anything her tired form had ever graced. And then there was the warmth radiating from the fireplace at her side where a few coals burned orange. She looked around the room the carpet was red velvet and all the furniture including the bed was made of solid oak, the scent of rosewater and incense heavy in the air. She pondered what it would be like to lie beneath a man like Macnayer, what sort of pain her body would endure. But more than anything, she pondered if she would perhaps; find some sort of enjoyment from his ministrations.


An unfamiliar heat rose from between her legs and Raven pushed the thoughts from her mind. She moved from the bed closer to the stone fireplace. Her hair and body were caked with mud. She picked at bits on her arms before pushing herself closer to the few remaining coals.


The door behind her clicked and swung open. Raven turned her head slowly and was greeted by a woman she did not recognize. "Young lady the master wishes you bathed and properly robed prior his return." Raven considered her condition and agreed. The warm water brought about a sigh and reminded her that the dredges of rivers that had been her baths before were no longer. She wondered if she would miss them as the woman set about bathing her body and washing her hair. Afterwards she was dried and given an elegant black robe with a red sash. To finish the ensemble her long black hair was brushed and her face was painted.


Raven was taken aback when the woman presented her with her reflection in a mirror. “I look like a whore,” she whispered. She took the mirror from the woman’s hand and studied it a moment longer. She had never been painted before, never.


The woman scoffed. "No whore in this land would be dressed in such fine silks or have all her teeth for that matter.”


Raven felt a heat rise upon her cheeks. She slowly touched her face, frightened to do damage to the work


The woman laughed, “Don’t worry love, you won’t break, at least not till after the master gets back that is.” Raven’s head shot up and the woman took her chin in two fingers “The little virgins always enjoy what the master does to them, no matter your title I put money on it you’ll be just like them.”


Raven slapped the woman’s hand away, “Don’t touch me, you Hag.” she growled stumbling to her feet. “I accept my fate but begrudgingly. I cannot die, not yet, and so I will lie beneath this man, but I assure you I will not enjoy a moment of it.


The older woman laughed again and gave Raven’s chest a shove knocking her back upon the silk bed, “Don’t be naive little girl, when the master has finished with you,” she snickered, “why you’ll crave it you will, it will consume your thoughts and body, and you’ll beg him every night, on your knees clawing at his robes to pleasure you. You’ll be no better than some pimp’s whore, a slave to your body. Oh think not? I know it I’ve seen it.” She turned her back and dragged the bathing cauldron with her. “The master should be in shortly," they said as they left. Raven glared in their wake.


And then her mind turned to her words. Would she be like them? Would she beg for Macnayer after he finished with her? She shook her head and tried to calm her heart’s palpitations against her chest.


She gritted her teeth. She wasn’t like the others, she wouldn’t allow him to…he wouldn’t no. Raven muttered to herself and tried the door in vain only to have the sound of the other one opening greet her ears.