Alastair Archibald: Dragonblaster

"Batons at the ready? Now!” Judan screamed, her face almost purple with the effort to contain the spell's roiling energies.

Six willow rods crashed to the floor in unison, forming a perfect pentacle. Lizaveta continued to chant, and the sticks melded into each other, glowing with a blazing, white light.

"Mantui Drexelica! Avanta chezura!” the Prioress screamed, completing the chant, and silence reigned. For a moment she feared that they had failed, as stillness descended upon the stone room.

"There, Reverend Mother! See there!” an anonymous nun screamed, as a small blue light formed in the centre of the gleaming shape. It began to swirl and shimmer as it grew, and the Prioress saw a black hexagon in its centre, growing ever larger as the light became brighter.

Lizaveta and her companions staggered at the impact of a noise too loud to hear, an assault on the eardrums that transcended sound. In an instant, the blue light was gone, and a hunched figure crouched within the pentacle, which had reverted to a simple assembly of wooden sticks.

With her ears ringing, the Prioress crowed, “Well done, Sister Judan! Well done, all of you!” She heard her words as if through a long tunnel, and she could not be sure if any woman in the assembly had heard her, but she felt suffused with joy at the potent, complex spell's success.

So this is Afelnor's paramour! she thought, as the summoned girl staggered to her feet. She is a comely one, to be sure.

As hearing returned to her, Lizaveta strode towards the confused female.

"Welcome to Rendale, girl,” she said, smiling

"Wh… what? Who are you? Where am I?"

The girl's eyes threatened to spring from their sockets, as confusion gave way to naked panic.

"You are with your sisters, supplicant, where you belong,” the Prioress hissed. “You are here to learn discipline."

"What is all this?” Drexelica screamed as her wide, terrified eyes flitted around the green-lit scene. “Let me go, you hideous old crone!"

Lizaveta smiled. “You do not talk to me in that manner, girl. You must address me as ‘Reverend Mother'."

"I'll see you in Perdition first!"

In a single, smooth movement, the Prioress drew a slender rod from behind her throne slashing it down upon Drexelica's back. “That is no way to address your superior, girl!"

"You'll have to do better than that, you old cow!” Drexelica spat, ignoring the blow, her eyes now blazing with defiance. “I've been beaten by the best, and you aren't even close! Grimm will-"

She stopped in mid-sentence.

"You were saying?” Lizaveta crooned, her normally-rough voice taking on a honeyed tone.

"Nothing,” Drexelica replied. “I was just going to say that you have no-"

"You were going to say that Grimm Afelnor was sure to come to your rescue, weren't you, my dear?"

Drexelica declined to answer the Prioress, but her silence was more eloquent than words.

"I'm hoping he does,” Lizaveta said, smiling. “That's why you're here, my young lovely: so that you can welcome him when he arrives."

"If you're expecting me to betray him, you got another fink comin', y'old hag!"

"Ah, the gentle patois of the Grivense gutter, if I'm not mistaken.” Lizaveta felt pleased that Drexelica had lapsed for a moment into her native street-language, a clear indicator that she was not as self-possessed as she pretended. “You weren't always such a fine lady, were you, my dear?"

A torrent of invective poured from the girl's lips, and Lizaveta wagged an admonitory finger.

"That is not genteel, and it is biologically impossible, I'm afraid,” she said.

"If you think that little stick's going to change me, you're barking up the wrong tree, my lady,” the girl cried. “I know pain well, and I can handle it."

"Of course,” the Prioress said. “We women are strong, are we not? We can withstand pain at a level which mere men cannot begin to comprehend. However, you have a very limited imagination if you delude yourself that physical pain is my only method of persuasion. There are many, many other levers that can be used to break the spirit, and I look forward to acquainting you with all of them. Emotions and sensations are useful, for a start."

Lizaveta drew on the bounteous power of the earth and unleashed a stream of energy into the girl's brain.

Drexelica's eyes bulged, the pupils dilating, and she sank to her knees, gasping and twitching.

"May I ask what you used, Reverend Mother?” Judan asked, who had moved to the Prioress's right side.

"Pure, unalloyed pleasure this time, Sister,” Lizaveta said from the corner of her mouth, watching as the girl began to roll on the flagstone floor, as if suffering a seizure. “Often an effective means of softening up a troublesome subject. Still, I thought she might prove more resilient than this, and I'm a little disappointed."

With a sudden jerk, Drexelica froze for a moment, and then climbed to her feet. Lizaveta noted blood at the girl's palms and her lower lip; the little slut had distracted herself with pain.

"Damn you, hag,” she gasped, her red face running with sweat as the sweet, all-consuming waves of pleasure ran through her.

"Well done, my dear!” Lizaveta felt impressed at her prisoner's inner strength as she released the spell. Drexelica dropped to the floor again, like a marionette whose strings have been cut, drawing shuddering breaths. “You are a strong one, after all; that pleases me more than you can imagine. I like a challenge.

"Perhaps you'd like to taste that again, my sweet? I can make it last all day, if necessary. Just say the word, and you can taste that sensation again for as long as you desire."

"Never.” The girl wheezed, her eyes narrowed and defiant. “I'll beat my head against the floor, bite my tongue off and gouge out my own eyes long before I ever give in to you."

"That was Lesson One,” the Prioress intoned, well pleased with the success of this first attempt on the bastions of her captive subject's mind. “There are many, many others, I assure you: guilt, fear, despair, self-loathing-I command them all. Nonetheless, I feel invigorated by the challenge you set me earlier. As I told you before; I enjoy challenges."

The girl's eyes were hooded, suspicious, as she rose from her prone position to kneel. “What challenge?” she demanded.

"Why, your bold statement that physical pain holds no terrors for you, of course! I fear that you may have cause to regret that statement very soon.

"I have been lenient so far with your insults and profanity; you are still a very raw Supplicant, and I have indulged your tantrums. However, such naughty behaviour cannot be overlooked. Sister Melana!"

A tall, pale, whip-thin nun hurried to face her Superior, dropping a deep curtsey without raising her eyes. “I am at your command, Reverend Mother!"

"This new Supplicant requires correction,” the Prioress drawled. “I wish you to select three trustworthy Acolytes of the Inner Order and conduct Sister Drexelica to the lower chamber. I believe four hours of First Grade Penitence should suffice for now, just enough to orientate her in our ways."

"Reverend Mother, may I speak?” Judan whispered.

"Of course, Sister Judan. You have done well, and I am favourably impressed with your sterling efforts tonight."

"Thank you, Reverend Mother. I just wished to observe that the First Grade is usually reserved for the more delicate, sensitive girls; this Grivense street slattern seems to be of stronger stuff. May I suggest at least a Second Grade Penitence? She was most disrespectful to you."

Lizaveta nodded. “I am amenable, dear Sister. Your advice is always valuable to me.

"Sister Melana, you are to press it upon your chosen Acolytes that the girl is not to be permanently marked, disfigured or disabled during the punishment. She may also witness thirty minutes of Sister Sofia's chastisement before her own Penitence commences.