Agent in Distress Ch. 08

"Rush her!" he shouted, raising his sword. He took three steps and then stopped suddenly, reaching for his chest, to find Lana's sword buried in his heart.

The remaining two men turned to each other. "We should run!" said one.

"You know what he'll do to us if she gets away!" said the other. "And she's unarmed now," he added, looking at Lana. They decided they had a better chance of survival by staying and fighting, so they drew their swords and began approaching the now weaponless girl. Lana reached out with her mind, then suddenly the pain was back, even worse than before. She arched forward and fell to her knees, crying out in pain, her hands cradling her head. She felt the sleep coming on. Too soon, she thought, I have to stay awake!

With great effort, she opened her eyes to look at the two men, walking toward her with swords pointing toward her. She reached out with her mind, touching theirs, and recoiled at the murderous, evil presences she found. These two had killed many, and planned to kill her, and finish off Warrick. Pleading would have no effect on these men. She focused, trying to stop them, but the pain increased to an unbearable amount, and the two kept coming. Lana reached out, delving into their minds, touching on deep-seated fear of the unknown . . . of witchcraft. She focused on the weaker of the two minds. Suddenly the one man stopped, and the second one turned to look at him.

"We should leave her alone," said the one, confusion in his eyes. "It's dangerous to kill a witch."

"What?" said the other? "Kill her before she kills us and then we can get out of here!"

"She's a witch," said the first. "Even dead she could boil us in our sleep . . . or cause our wives to cut off our . . ."

The second one turned and looked at his cohort. "Have you lost your mind?" Then his eyes narrowed, and he turned back to Lana, saw her eyes closed, her face tense with concentration. "She'd doing this to you!" He raised his sword then, charging the last few feet.

Lana's eyes flew open, sensing danger. The sword was swinging in a wide arc toward her neck, then suddenly froze in mid air. The man cursed, straining to move his sword arm. Then quickly he pulled a dagger, lunging for Lana, but the dagger froze as well. Slowly, inexorably, the hand holding the dagger turned, the sharp point of the blade moving in a slow arc until it was pointing toward his own chest.

"No!" cried her attacker in horror, as the dagger began to move in toward his chest, despite his straining arm trying to hold it at bay. The tip reached his chest and slowly pushed into his flesh, and in seconds it was buried to the hilt, accompanied by a tortured gurgling from the man's throat. Finally, he fell to his knees, his hand still holding the dagger, and then he toppled over.

"I told you! To hell with this!" shouted the remaining ambusher. He dropped his sword and ran. As the pain exploded in her head, Lana looked at the back of the escaping man. He would report what she'd done to his superior, and she'd be compromised, she realized. She had to kill him. As she watched him running in terror, she suddenly felt a rush of guilt. She'd killed three men, possibly mortally wounded the fourth. She'd been taught to value life, and with barely a thought she'd snuffed out several lives. Warrick! she thought, ignoring the last man and spinning around looking for Warrick's pack.

Seeing in on the ground beside Warrick, she ran to his side and went to her knees, yanking open the pack, whimpering now from the intense pain in her head. She pulled out two of the Somarian fruits, then looked about, scrambling about on her knees for Warrick's dagger. She yanked it out, and neatly cut the tops off the two fruit. Then she tilted her head back and held the fruit over her open mouth, squeezing. A few drops of juice trickled into her mouth.

"No, I need more!" wailed Lana, trying again to squeeze the fruit, but it was too hard, and her hands not strong enough. She tried with her mind to squeeze, but it was too complex a task, her mind too exhausted. She began to cry, failure filling her heart as she tried over and over in vain to squeeze the fruit. She'd failed, she needed more juice to help him, and she simply didn't have the strength. He was going to die, and leave her alone.

Suddenly she felt warm fingers take her hand in his. It was Warrick, sitting up next to her. "Let me," he croaked, forcing a smile. She glanced down at his chest, saw so much blood that she nearly fainted in despair. But she forced herself to lean her head back. The warrior squeezed the fruit, and a gush of the precious liquid dripped into her waiting mouth.

"The other one!" she gasped, choking down the juice. Warrick lifted the other fruit, and squeezed its contents into her mouth. Then his eyes rolled up in his head, and his body slumped back to the ground. Lana swallowed the juice, then reached over to try apply pressure to his bloody wound again, and then the pain hit her.

"Ahh!" she screamed, her hands on her head in agony, as she doubled over, her head thumping on the warrior's leather-clad belly. The pain did not subside like before, every corner of her mind on fire and crying out in agony. She fought through it, willing her mind to continue, to reach out to the prone warrior. His heart was strong, but running out of blood to pump. Her mind reached deeper, inside his body, letting his mind guide her. There, in his heart, she found the damage. She embraced it, willed it to obey . . . she would let nothing stand in her way.

Then she screamed as the pain in her head expanded, a screech that turned her nerves inside out, and she blacked out, slumping on the warrior's chest, his blood warming her cheek.

***

Lana heard the voices through a thick fog, and she was vaguely aware of her surroundings. Her face felt wet and sticky, and her head was pounding. Two male voices were speaking nearby, and she could hear the words, but had difficulty comprehending the meaning.

"Look over here," said one voice, "I think this one's alive. The girl anyway, that poor bastard covered in blood, he's done for."

"An arrow through the heart no doubt," said the second voice, "from our dead bandits over there. But where's the arrow?"

"I think it's in the bandit. Maybe he threw it back?" They both laughed, but Lana was mumbling and shaking her head. Warrick wasn't dead, she could sense his mind.

"She's trying to talk," said the first. The guard reached down to take her arm and lift her off Warrick's chest. He made a sound of disgust, seeing her blood-stained face and matted hair, and let her fall back onto the prone warrior.

The second guard was rummaging through Warrick's pack, and he pulled out a document and was reading it. "Damn," he gestured to the other guard, "look at this. She," he pointed toward Lana, "is a free woman, she's got the papers right here." He gave the girl another look. Then he spoke to the other guard. "Pity," he said, shrugging. "She's off limits. I would have enjoyed waking her up in my own special way. We can drop her off at the outpost on the way back. They'll figure out what to do with her."

Lana felt strong arms lift her and place her on something hard and flat, then a shout from the guard and the flat surface began slowly moving and rocking. The motion made her drift off back into a deep sleep.

***

Lana became vaguely aware of a sense of floating, and subdued female voices. It was a struggle to open her eyes, so she left them closed. She felt something soft moving about her body, and she heard sounds of lapping water and gentle splashing. The pleasurable sensations and soft sensual voices caused her to drift back into a semi sleep. Occasionally the soft female voices would ask her to do something, and she would comply, as if in a dream state. The women were bathing her she realized, and she felt relaxed and refreshed, and clean. She sat up groggily as the two girls used a thick towel to dry her off, then ran a brush through her hair, the one girl speaking softly to her as if to comfort a child.

Lana slowly awakened to find herself sitting on something hard and cool, letting the girls dry her off and support her, to keep her from keeling over. Her eyes were still closed but she was becoming more aware of her surroundings. The voices, previously garbled, gradually become comprehensible, and Lana opened her eyes suddenly. She was in a vast bathing chamber, sitting at the edge of a marble bath. She looked to her side to see a young, pretty girl dressed in a rather revealing pink silk two-piece outfit. To her other side was another woman identically dressed, but older. They both smiled to see Lana coming back to the world of the living.

"Oh good, you're awake, pretty one!" said the older woman, patting Lana on the back. "After two days we thought it was time to bathe you."

Lana blinked. "Two days?" Her own voice sounded garbled.

The woman smiled. "Yes, you slept for two days after they found you! We were worried you'd never wake up. Now let's get you dressed quickly, for the magistrate is coming to greet you."

"Magistrate?" mumbled Lana, her voice improving but still slightly slurred. Then she realized she was naked and covered herself with her arms. "Where are my clothes?"

"Being washed," said the woman. She frowned. "They were covered in blood!"

"Warrick!" she exclaimed suddenly, looking about in a panic. Instinctively, she tried to reach out with her mind to find him, and was rewarded with a sharp pain in her head.

"What is it, mistress?" said the younger girl, alarmed, her small hands coming to Lana's shoulder.

Lana winced as the pain in her temples subsided. Her abilities were gone, likely for some time, overloaded by her exertions in the battle. She must have really overdone it, to have slept for two days. She felt like her attempt to repair the damage to his heart had been successful. It was a skill spoken of only in legends at the Institute -- for a student to accomplish it . . . it was the fruit no doubt. But had she been too late? And what price had she paid for using so much fruit? She'd never had to sleep two days after using her abilities. She let out a long breath, then looked at the two women. "There was a warrior, he was wounded, did your people bring him here? I must see him!" she explained.

The girls shook their heads. "We know nothing of this warrior, mistress. We were told you were found, covered in blood but uninjured." The older woman paused, realizing the blood was likely from her companion.

Lana shook her head when she saw the woman's concern. "No, he was alive when I left him, but unconscious."

"Then I'm sure he is still alive, mistress," said the woman, patting her hand. "But the men might have left him there if he was covered in blood." That was probably what happened, Lana realized. With so much blood they'd have assumed the worst. But she'd saved him, she knew it. When her senses came back, she'd be able to reach out with her mind and find him.

The younger girl was impatiently holding up a segment of silk. "Mistress, please! We must dress you or we'll be punished." Lana sighed and dutifully held out her arms as the younger girl slid the silk over her arms.

"Yes, the magistrate will be here soon to look at your case," said the older woman. "Are you really from Calambria? We've never seen a free woman from Calambria!"

"Umm, yes, I am," said Lana, lying. "What do you mean, you've never met a Calambrian before?"

"Oh, of course," said the woman, nodding. "But they were all slaves, naturally." Then she giggled. "The women of Calambria are too desirable to remain free for long in Nikos' kingdom." She winked at Lana. "Perhaps you will soon come to serve with us, that would be wonderful!"

Lana marveled at her sincerity. The woman meant what she said, she seemed eager for Lana to join them in servitude. Lana just smiled at her and kept silent. The younger girl had pulled the pale red silk top against Lana's breasts, and reached behind her to tie the strings and held it pressed against her chest. It was almost pinkish in color, and thin enough to show the outline of Lana's breasts. But more alarming was that the burning effects of the fruit were coming back, perhaps triggered by the sensual feel of the silk on her breasts.

"Please stand, mistress?" said the younger girl, holding up a pair of panties and a matching short translucent red skirt. Lana stood awkwardly, acutely aware of an embarrassing itch in her nether region. She had to find her salve, but was too embarrassed to ask. At the younger girl's bidding, Lana stepped into the clothing and let the girl pull them up over her hips, stifling a soft gasp as the girl gently tugged on the material before tying off the skirt at her side. The fruit was really affecting her now, such that any touches, even the innocuous actions of her helpers, set her body aflame with desire. The girl, oblivious to Lana's state, then presented pretty red sandals and gestured for her to step into them. Finally her helper stood back, looking at Lana. "You're so pretty, mistress," said the girl, clearly in awe of her silky black hair, flowing freely after her bath. Lana blushed, then she gasped, her embarrassment triggering a rush of sensations in her body. It was much worse than usual, and she remembered the unusually large amount of fruit she'd taken to save Warrick. She'd done it without thinking, but now she was paying the price.

One thing was clear, she thought as she moved about the bath chamber. She had to stop eating the fruit. What had Warrick said about the duration of the side effects? Days? Even her chest felt strangely tight and swollen. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, only to gasp. She looked a bit ragged, but that was not what shocked her. Her breasts . . . they looked so . . . voluptuous! She turned left and right, wondering if she was imagining it; no, she'd grown somehow. Then she remembered what Warrick had said, it was another side effect of the fruit. Was it permanent, she couldn't remember?

Suddenly, the door to the bath opened, and a sharply dressed man entered, flanked by two other men, who looked like guards but did not wear armor or weapons. The first man looked at Lana, his eyes traveling down her body and then back up to her eyes. Lana didn't like the way he looked at her, and she crossed her arms in front of her chest. The man grinned. "You are the woman we found at the scene of the crime, covered in blood, along with five bodies." It was a statement rather than a question. Lana kept silent, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"I am Tegon Bala, the magistrate for this fine town. I am also the chief appraiser. State your name, and country of origin."

Lana briefly considered refusing to answer, but the look of the two men at his sides made her wary. They seemed eager to lay hands on her, somehow.

"Lana Torina, from Calambria."

The magistrate smiled. "Yes, I thought as much. A Calambrian female is a rare gift around these parts."

"I was traveling with a man from Castalia," Lana blurted out. "Is he here?" she added, gesturing around her.

His smile disappeared, replaced by what looked like regret. "Your companion, I'm afraid, was dead when we found him. The soldiers sent for a burial cart."

Lana frowned. Most likely he was still unconscious, covered in blood. He'd likely come to before they buried him. She looked up, to see the man looking at her strangely.

"I would have expected more grief," he said. "Were you perhaps, a free woman . . . held against your will, by this man?" Lana looked up, trying to read his blank expression. Before she could respond, the older woman spoke up.

"No, master! Miss Lana was traveling freely with her companion." Lana looked at her. The woman looked back intently, as if trying to tell her something.

"Yes, that's correct," Lana answered, her instincts saying to trust the woman. "Why do you ask?"

"Just . . . trying to ascertain your status, as a guest here in the Kingdom of Wight," said the magistrate, shooting a look of annoyance at the slave girl. He held up a notebook and scribbled on it. "Very well then, you're a free woman, visiting Wight for the first time?"

"Yes," said Lana, wondering where this was going.

"And you are Calambrian?" said the man, still making notes. He looked at her. "You seem a little tall and meaty and your eyes are not the right color, also your accent . . . but I've met very few Calambrian women so it's hard to say."

"I am Calambrian," said Lana with annoyance. "We don't all look the same you know."

"Of course," nodded the magistrate. "Your women are typically too skinny for my tastes, but you . . . you are very nicely curved."

Lana glared at him, her cheeks reddening slightly. She could never get used to the way the men here talked.

"Very well, we must perform an evaluation before you can be allowed to roam freely," said the magistrate. Lana noticed the subtle grins on the faces of the two men to his side.

"Evaluation?" said Lana, suspiciously.

"Yes, of course," said the magistrate. He paused. "You see, a free woman in Wight must be evaluated every year to determine if her free status is appropriate, or if she might be better suited to . . . another status. Since you are new to our kingdom, and have not previously been evaluated?" he looked to Lana questioningly, and got a terse shaking of the head. "Of course, then we must perform one. Don't worry, it won't take long."

"What . . . other status might I be suited to?" demanded Lana, her arms crossed angrily and her eyes glaring at the man.

"The evaluation will tell us if you should remain a free woman, or you should be remanded to bonded status, as a serving girl or pleasure slave perhaps. Being Calambrian, the latter would seem the natural place for you."

Lana couldn't believe it. "You have no right to impose your . . . silly laws on me, I am not a citizen of your kingdom!"

"Oh, the laws apply to all, I assure you, young lady," said the magistrate, still grinning. "Do not be concerned, the evaluation is for your own good. We simply want all our citizens, and guests, to find happiness and fulfillment, by giving them the opportunity to find their true place."

"Oh, I know whose good this is for," mocked Lana. "If you are concerned with my wellbeing, you will let me go about my business, to find my friend, before he gets buried alive! Now get out of my way!" she added, pushing past the magistrate.

Predictably, that resulted in a gesture from the man to his two cohorts, who grabbed Lana by the arms. She struggled, her mind instinctively trying to draw on her abilities to combat them, which resulted in a searing pain in her head, which quickly subsided as she stopped trying to fight.

"It is quite common for free women to be reluctant to take the evaluation," said the magistrate. "It is an earlier indicator of which females are likely to fail the tests." He stood in front of her, looking down at her struggling form. "It is natural for a female like you to fear her own deep-seated desires. That is what we are here for, to help you embrace your true nature. Do not be frightened. If you are a free woman at heart, you will easily pass the tests and we'll let you go on your way."

Lana glared at him. "Do not mistake fear for revulsion at your touches! Let me go, you said yourself I am a free woman!"

"And in your own land, you would be free to go. But here in Wight, our law does not allow free woman to walk about without approval from a local magistrate." The official raised up a leather case that she hadn't noticed he was carrying. He moved to a table and opened it, pulling out a bundle of thin white rope. He turned to face Lana with a determined look. "As appraisers, it is our job to find out the best way to reach each female's inner core. I find the strong willed females like yourself, respond well to bindings. Men . . ." he said, gesturing. The two men with their strong grips, bent Lana's arms back behind her, and turned her back to face him. They bent her arms at the elbows to hold her forearms horizontally behind her back. Lana panicked, her face feeling flushed all of a sudden, and an odd heat growing between her legs. The salve! She needed it, she realized, for her body's arousal seemed to be returning with a vengeance. She decided to change tact.