Richard Tuttle - Elvangar

“You would not understand it,” protested Rhoda. “Only a mage could understand the spell.”

“Yet you claim not to be a mage,” retorted the interrogator. “If you continue to lie to me, your punishment will be extremely cruel.”

Rhoda’s naked body shivered involuntarily in reaction to the interrogator’s threat. She knew that she had been stripped naked to make her feel more vulnerable. She used her powers of concentration to calm her body so that the interrogator would not notice her fear.

“The mages said that I had the capability of learning it,” replied Rhoda after she had calmed down. “That only meant that I had the talent within me. I must not have much talent if they only saw fit to teach me that one spell. Still, I would have to explain it to someone who at least has the capability to understand it. If you have no magical talent, you will not understand.”

The interrogator’s hand rose and pointed at Rhoda’s right leg. Flames leaped from his pointed finger and struck the leg. Rhoda screamed as the fire burned into her flesh. Her body twitched uncontrollably as the pain grew more intense. She felt as if her leg would burn completely off. Rhoda continued to scream until she passed out.

Rhoda was not sure how long she had been unconscious when she awoke. She could still feel the searing pain where the fire had burned her leg, but the pain was localized.

“So you are back among the living,” sneered the interrogator. “Did you enjoy my demonstration of magical ability?”

Rhoda said nothing. She concentrated on ignoring the pain in her leg.

“If not,” continued the interrogator, “I would be more than happy to demonstrate it again, and again, and again. The choice is yours. You can cooperate and live, or you can be burned one small area at a time until you do cooperate. Frankly, I hope you decide to be stubborn for at least a little while longer.”

“What do you want of me?” cried Rhoda. “I have done nothing to you. Why do you seek to hurt me so?”

“I want to know how you create an air tunnel,” declared the interrogator. “It is a simple request.”

“And if I tell you?” asked Rhoda. “What is in it for me? How do I know that you will not pleasure yourself with continued burnings of my flesh?”

The interrogator smiled broadly, although Rhoda could not see his face. He knew that his little demonstration had paid off where the officer had failed.

“If you cooperate,” answered the interrogator, “life will be simple for you. You will be free to live in peace on the island. If you do have any talents, we might even train you to be productive.”

“I won’t be allowed to return to Raven’s Point?” asked Rhoda.

“No,” the interrogator shook his head. “At least not while it is still Khadoran. Perhaps afterwards you will be allowed to return, after we have destroyed it.”

Rhoda felt a tear roll down her cheek. She had suspected that she would never see Raven’s Point again, but to hear the interrogator admit it brought a feeling of hopelessness to her.

“And you will truly teach me more magic?” Rhoda asked. “Would you really do that? Or are you just saying that to please me now?”

“If you have the ability,” answered the interrogator, “you will be taught. We have the finest teachers in the world here. Of course, it will depend on your abilities. I can promise no more than that.”

“I appreciate the honesty,” Rhoda tried to smile. “And all that I have to do is teach you how to create an air tunnel?”

“That is all,” nodded the interrogator. “Let’s begin now.”

“Alright,” Rhoda decided. “I have little choice anyways, and you will teach me magic. I always wanted to be a great mage.”

“Yes, yes,” sighed the interrogator, knowing that her low level abilities would never be worth nurturing. “Explain it to me now.”

“You have to create a vortex of wind,” explained Rhoda. “You do this by rotating your hands in a rapid fashion. Your hands must rotate around a perceived axis that extends from the perpendicular of an imaginary line connecting your two elbows. Then as the wind begins to circulate…”

“Wait,” commanded the interrogator. “Stop. Slow down so I can picture what you are saying.”

“I am sorry,” apologized Rhoda. “I guess I am just excited about the chance of learning new magic.”

The interrogator nodded and Rhoda repeated her statements again, only slower. She watched as the man tried positioning his hands properly.

“No, no, no,” Rhoda shook her head. “It has to be perpendicular. Your hands are off at an angle. Let me explain it again.”

“Be more detailed when you explain the positioning,” scowled the interrogator. “I want to get this right.”

“It would be much easier to show you,” sighed Rhoda. “That is how I learned. It really is a simple spell. You should not be having trouble with it.”

The interrogator stared at the naked woman as if weighing the risks of unstrapping her.

“Okay,” sighed Rhoda. “Let’s try this again. Put your arms out perpendicular to your body.”

“Stop,” ordered the interrogator. “I will unstrap you. Show me how the positioning is set. Do not take advantage of my leniency.”

“That will be easier,” nodded Rhoda. “As for taking advantage of anything, I am hardly in the position to run away. I do not even know where I am.”

“Trust me,” grinned the interrogator as he undid the straps holding her arms down, “you will not be running anywhere. Your legs will remain strapped to this table.

“That is fine,” replied Rhoda as she held her arms up and rubbed the areas that had been in contact with the straps. “You don’t realize how tight those straps are until they are released.”

“Begin now,” instructed the interrogator.

“Alright,” nodded Rhoda as she lifted her arms perpendicular to her torso. “Watch my hands closely. See how my arms are perpendicular to my body? Put yours out just like mine. Good. Now cup your hands like mine.”

The interrogator watched her hands closely and saw the beginnings of a vortex forming.

“You should be able to see the winds circulating now,” Rhoda said. “Note the circulation pattern. It must always go in the same direction.”

The interrogator nodded as he watched the vortex grow. “How do you use it to communicate?” he asked.

“In a minute,” replied Rhoda as she concentrated on her spell. “First the vortex must be fully formed. Only then can it be directed to the proper target.”

Suddenly, the tall shelves of the storeroom began to vibrate. Items on the shelves bounced around and began to lift off the shelves. The interrogator did not notice the storm-like winds that were rotating fiercely around the room as he stared at the small vortex within Rhoda’s hands. Soon the articles on the shelves began flying around the room. Tins, bottles and piles of cloth circulated the room like a small tornado. When the tall shelves loudly snapped away from the walls, the interrogator’s head snapped up to discover what was happening.

“What is going on?” he demanded to know. “Is this part of the air tunnel?”

“Oh,” smiled Rhoda as she twisted her hands to make the tornado collapse in on itself, “did you want an air tunnel? I thought you wanted something much more powerful. I know that I am ready to die. Are you?”

The tornado spiraled inward as the interrogator’s mouth opened in horror. The first obstacle to strike was a small tin filled with nails. It smashed into his head with the force of a strong punch from a burly krul. The interrogator swayed from the blow as the tornado collapsed inward.

Rhoda watched with glee as the flying debris descended on her and the interrogator. She saw a sharp piece of broken shelf plunge into the interrogator’s body. She could barely hear his scream over the howling of the wind. Then she felt the articles striking her body. She closed her eyes and prepared to die.