Pirate Fantasy Flash Fiction: The Wicked Cat (Voice)

The 24th entry in the Pirate Fantasy Flash Fiction series The Wicked Cat and this one is a little dark and a little grim as we visit the realm of Unne the Blind. I didn’t expect it to be this disturbing when I wrote it, but it works out far better than I could hope. Please comment and I hope you enjoy this piece!

The Hyril soldier carried Walter over his shoulder. Walter’s head slammed against the walls hard enough to inflict as much pain as he was carted down the hallway. Walter moaned in protest and meekly held onto the edge of a wall as they turned a corner. T soldier holding him pulled him away before he could stop their momentum. They made their way down a dark corridor in the chateau that smelled of death and human waste. The soldier covered his mouth with his left hand as his right arm tightened around Walter’s waist.

The silence that answered was almost deafening. He nodded once and kicked at Walter in an attempt to make him stir. “Yes, I made sure the bruises on his body were only superficial. I had to do everything I could to make sure the boys didn’t damage him. They were itching to eliminate a Nimerian pirate.”

The soldier turned his head and gazed at the darkness with a raised eyebrow. He nodded once and bowed at the waist with his hand still clamped over his mouth. “As you wish, I will leave the premises. I shall inform Lord Ulzon you are occupied and see if I can detain Emilia from disturbing you.”

The soldier walked out from the room, shutting the iron door behind him with a huff. The loud click reverberated across the room, causing Walter to moan and open his eyes. A moment later, he vomited on the floor as he curled into a ball and rolled away from the stain he left on the floor. He opened one eye and spotted something sitting in a chair nearby. He couldn’t make it out other than it was a person leaning against the back with his head looking up at the ceiling. He moved farther away from his puddle and pushed himself to his hands and knees as he coughed and sputtered.

He heard a voice in his head that cut him deeper than any sword that left a scar on his body. His head shot up and he took a sharp breath in as pain coursed over his face. A voice rang in his mind, louder than any bell he ever heard. “I know the men. They are eager to take their aggressions out on your people with no other reason than to do so. Are you hurt, do you need assistance?”

Walter crumbled flat to the ground as he struggled for breath, “I am fine, other than the ringing headache and the taste of rot in my mouth. What is that stench, anyway?”

“Ah, I forgot about the stench. When you dwell in it for so long, you tend to let trifling things as decay and death slip by unnoticed.”

A snap of someone’s fingers caused a cool blast of fresh air to brush against his face. He shuddered and took in as much clean air as he could, lapping it up as if he were without water for days on end. Once the smell dissipated and the feeling of fresh air cycled around his head, he pressed himself from the floor and ended in a kneeling position. He scanned the room to see if he could notice anything. He moaned and hung his head, “I wish they would have killed me in the jungle.”

Around him were jars of eyes floating in vicious fluid of various shade and colors. Some looked at him while others seemed to look at the wall where a large quantity of tongues hung from massive hooks as though they were grisly trophies. He shuddered and vomited at his knees. As he turned away from the bile, he managed to see the thing sitting in the chair. It was the same man attached to the robed woman when they were captured. His vacant stare at the ceiling and the lack of breathing told him more than he needed to know.

“Oh yes, he is quite dead. You would be surprised how long he lasted as a Voice. I have had some that were not quite as stout as this man. I will tell you I shall miss him and the connection I had with him. His knowledge and personality certainly gave me more to work with. The Hyril Voices tend to be more abrupt and hive-mind like. They are for their own glory and the glory of the Orchid. I want to have more from my Voice than the endless drone of what was pounded into their mind from their earliest days. Tell me, Walter, where are you from?”

“H – how did you know my name?” Walter sputtered.

“I am in your mind. I must know everything I can before I continue with deciding whether or not a prospective Voice will meet my criteria. Where are you from?”

Walter felt his chest flutter as his heart hammered against his ribs. The saliva in his mouth seemed to disappear as he spoke, forcing him to croak the answer. “I hail from Drekmöhrg, Drek Prime.”

“They are stout creatures indeed. I admire the Drek. They never seem to give up, even in slavery. Your people are the envy of the Hyril. This is why they decided to cut a swath from your Prime and take it over themselves. They are jealous creatures, aren’t they?”

Walter fell forward and sobbed as his body shook. “What do you want from me, witch? I am not here to make friends.”

The voice laughed in his mind, causing him to wince. “Why, I want your Voice. Do you believe talking to someone through their mind is easy for me without the aid of magic?”

“I shall not serve you. Kill me and get this over with.”

Unne stepped forward with her mute smile as she looked at him with solid white eyes. She shook her head, lifted her arm and splayed her fingers in front of her. The chain attached to the iron band around her waist rattled and moved as if it were a serpent. Walter lifted his head and watched as the spear point at the end of the chain writhed as a serpent might. He heard the voice in his head as he shifted his view toward the mute sorceress. “This point will burrow in your head and sever whatever willpower you have. It will take many moons before you are broken, but have no fear. You will be my Voice.”

Walter closed his eyes and felt hot, searing tears stream down his cheeks. He heard the rattling of the chain along with something cutting through the air. He screamed. The sound of bone shattering turned his terrified screams into wet, gurgling sobs.

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