"Arabian Nights"
Part 90
by Beryll
>> To Viggo, so called Prince of Aqaba
Your bid for the throne has not gone unnoticed by local people of note who
worry about the well-being of our great nation under the rule of a foreign
dog like yourself. Your impression that you would just have to sway the Caliph
is sadly mistaken.
It is with utmost pleasure I may inform you that your dear friend from the
north who I believe is called Eric has been captured by my men and has been
delivered into my hands just a few hours ago. Be assured that he will suffer
greatly.
It is in your power to save him of course.
You are expected to come alone to the Shal'Asim oasis two hours north of Aqaba
and surrender your person to my men at dusk. If you fail to appear - be it
carelessness or your proverbial inaptitude at travelling our lands - your
friend's life is forfeit. <<
With a soundless sigh Viggo closed his eyes and rubbed his brow. Somehow he had stupidly hoped that the content of the letter would change if he read it often enough but that obviously wouldn't happen. It was still the same dreadful message he had found only half an hour ago on his desk, accompanied by a ring he had immediately recognized - the seal of Eric's father. Prove of the claim in the letter - Eric would never have parted with it willingly.
How the letter had come to his desk he had not been able to find out. His guards had told him no messenger had passed the doors to his quarters.
Viggo was willing to believe them. It could have been someone pretending to be a household slave of course but Viggo doubted that. The guards by his door were handpicked by Sean. They were highly trained to notice anything and everything that was even remotely out of the ordinary, they knew every servant assigned to his quarters by name. It was Sean's way of making sure that no assassin would slip in.
That left only two ways that letter could have come to his desk: someone had bribed or forced one of the regular servants to put it there or it had appeared by magic. It made a cold shiver run down Viggo's spine that he considered the second option more likely but after nearly dying of a curse such things became frighteningly real.
Gut instinct told Viggo this unknown person who had captured Eric was the same one who had tried to kill him twice already and who had made countless attempts on Hugo's younger children's lives. Why he did not say so outright and chose to veil his true agenda in talk about the well-being of Aqaba was beyond Viggo. But so was the fact that someone would stoop as low as murdering innocent children to achieve a goal. What this someone was capable of doing to Eric Viggo didn't want to imagine but his mind supplied a whole collection of horrible scenes.
It was up to Viggo to prevent them from becoming reality. The only question was how to achieve that.
His first reaction had been to call Sean and Karl and even the Caliph, to make a council of war, so to speak. With their minds put together they would surely come up with a way to save Eric. But then he had reconsidered. One thing was for sure, none of them would agree to Viggo surrendering - even if it would have been just for show. They would lock him up somewhere "safe". His safety was their top priority, even if it got Eric killed. Viggo was not willing to let that happen.
There was no way he would be able to defeat whoever had captured Eric on his own and there wasn't enough time to gather any reliable information on who might be their enemy now. That only left the option of doing just what the letter asked - to surrender himself - hoping against hope that his foe would honor his deal and let Eric go. And that his friends would be able to find and rescue him before he was dead.
Maybe he would be killed right on the spot. But if his enemy was as cruel as his letter hinted he would more likely be taken prisoner and brought somewhere else.
That would buy Sean and Karl time.
It was a desperate gamble but the only way Viggo could see to protect Eric's life.
Drawing his dagger from his boot he rammed it through the letter into his desk. It was the only hint he could leave for Sean and Karl. The only hint he had. One of the kittens would notice it sooner or later. Then he left in a hurry.
-
The setting sun was painting the sky an angry shade of crimson when Viggo arrived at the oasis. Despite the insulting comment in the letter Viggo had found his way here without trouble. He had managed to slip from the palace without Karl or Sean noticing. He had taken care to be seen by guards though so they would be able say he had left, wearing clothing for a trip to the desert and a grim expression.
Outside the oasis he reigned in his horse and looked at the patch of palm trees in silence. He knew he was walking into a trap - a deadly trap - and he felt cold fear stir in his heart. There was a good chance he would not survive but that didn't shake his resolve
The first evening breeze carried the soft neighing of a horse up from the oasis. So he was expected. Maybe now he would at last learn who his so far unseen enemy was. Softly he nudged his horse forward.
In the fading light he could now make out a group of riders among the trees. All of them were wrapped in the dark robes, head cloth and veils of the desert people. All but one. Viggo heart made a painful leap as he recognized Eric's tall form, is foreign clothes, his shock of dark curls. He was swaying in the saddle of his horse precariously, his hands tied behind his back. But at least he was there. Maybe there truly was a chance that the promise to let him go would be kept.
The group of riders watched him approach in silence.
"Prince Viggo." a voice from the group spoke when he was close enough to notice the blood caked wound on Eric's head. "I see you have come alone."
Viggo wasn't sure which of the riders had spoken but it didn't matter.
"Yes, I have." he answered.
"Drop your weapons." the same voice ordered and this time Viggo was rather sure it was the tallest of the veiled riders who had spoken.
"Let Eric go first." Viggo demanded but was answered with a short cruel laugh.
"You are not giving the orders here." The tall rider growled. "Now drop your weapons."
Viggo hadn't brought many to begin with. He certainly didn't want to lose the sword he had carried since his teenage years to his enemies. So he pulled the simple training sword he had picked instead and dropped it next to the horse, followed by the dagger from his belt.
"Good." the tall rider said, slowly urging his horse forward. "And now..."
The pain was no more than the bite of an insect but when Viggo's hand flew to his neck it encountered a tiny arrow. Suddenly his horse seemed to dance madly and Viggo lost his grip on the reigns, tumbling to the ground.
"You are ours." the tall riders voice concluded.
Bright splotches of light were dancing in Viggo's rapidly darkening vision. He was not really surprised, really had expected as much.
What did surprise him was the last thing he saw and heard before unconsciousness claimed him:
Eric's face gazing down at him with deep pity and then melting away to form a completely different face unknown to him.
And the softly whispered words: "Poor princeling, now you will join your friend in suffering."
-
Waking up was not the slow emergence from darkness one would wish for but sharp pain and sudden awareness as Viggo was slapped hard, his head reeling back from the force of the blow.
"Wake up, princeling!" a cruel, sneering voice commanded. "I want to look into the eyes of the man who has caused me so much trouble!"
At first Viggo thought the flickering reddish light was due to the fact that drug that had be used to keep him oblivious had not completely lost it's grip on him. But as his eyes adjusted he realized the light was coming from torches along the wall of the dank dungeon cell he found himself in.
He had been stripped of all clothes but his pants. His whole weight was suspended by his wrists which were shackled to a chain coming down from the ceiling in the middle of the cell. Trying to find a footing he noticed that he was just able to stand on tiptoe.
"Ah, awake at last," that voice sneered, "and here I was starting to fear your first beating would go unnoticed by you."
The man in front of him was tall, broad of shoulder but kind of gaunt under his precious robes. His face was a map of angry frowns etched deep, his dark eyes sunken, giving him a demonic seeming in the shadows cast by the torches. His cruel smile only added to the picture.
"I would have thought you'd be more... special. Turns out you are just a man who has been lucky. But your lucky days are over, by stupidly honourable friend. Did you really think I would l your friend go? Such a tasty morsel. It will be a pleasure to break him."
Viggo's gaze followed the man's gesture to the cell opposite the one he was imprisoned in. He drew in a breath in an angry hiss as he recognized Eric there, chained just like he was himself, hanging limp and obviously unconscious from his shackles.
"And you will have a first row seat to watch the spectacle." the man in front of him drew back his attention. "I must admit it is quite beyond me why the suffering of another should pain a man but lengthy testing has proven to me it works." The man chuckled evilly. "So silent? There must be quite a few questions you want to ask me. Like who I am and why I am so entirely un-amused by the fact that you have so stubbornly refused t be murdered by my agents."
Of course it was true. Viggo did want to know. But he would certainly not give the man the satisfaction of asking. Instead he gritted his teeth in a silent snarl.
His captor snapped his fingers and from the shadows another man stepped, whom Viggo noticed only now. He immediately recognized the face and warm eyes he had last seen before he had lost consciousness. Now this man was bearing a small tray with a jewel-encrusted goblet. The man in front of Viggo picked it up and took a sip, his mood obviously improving from moment to moment.
"Well as you refuse to ask I will tell you anyway. Now is not the time to discuss the much needed adjustment in your behaviour. Your first whipping will help tremendously in that regard I'm sure."
Obviously this man quite enjoyed to hear himself talk. The prospect of a whipping was not exactly pleasant but it meant he would not be killed right away, Viggo thought. The more time he could buy for Sean and Karl to find him the better. How they would manage that and the impossible feat of saving him and Eric he had no idea but in his situation hope was all a man could cling to.
"Why don't we start like the civilized men I am and you pretend to be," his 'host' continued with a mocking bow, "I am Lord Christopher, second son to Caliph Hugo's sister. A distant cousin, so to speak. You will of course not have heard my name at court and much less seen me. I have been banned - no that is not right - send on a permanent mission out of the way, guarding trading routes in the desert. Or so Hugo phrased it when he kicked me out after everything I had done for the ungrateful bastard!"
The man drew a hissing breath and then took another long drag from his goblet. His fury made him even uglier.
"You see, I led his armies for a while, securing him the rule of several of the pretty cities he now calls his own. I really never asked much for my service, after all I was quite sure he would be intelligent enough to realize what a gem he had by his side in me. But that fool had the guts to ignore my advise. He called me 'too cruel'! Can you imagine that?! Too cruel!! A man of his standing should know that his realm needs a firm hand. If a subject does not fear his ruler, how can it be expected to obey? He even had the gall to criticize the way I ran my very own household! How dare he?!"
The goblet was flung against the wall in a burst of rage, wine splattering everywhere. Viggo remained silent. He could very well imagine why Hugo would have removed this man from his presence but right now was certainly not the time to speak his mind.
The Lord folded his hands behind his back staring at Viggo angrily.
"Hugo is not fit to rule anything. If there was any more prove needed he gave it when he made YOU his heir. A foreign bastard, a man who runs away from responsibility, a brainless dog who gives up his own freedom for another worthless dog. Now that you are out of the picture at last I will remove Hugo's brood from existence at last. I am done waiting out here, I am done plotting and waiting."
He sighed softly, his smile suddenly returning in a most unpleasant way.
"You know, you and those cursed brats are the only thing still in my way to the throne of Aqaba. If you had all been paying a little more attention you would have noticed how I removed everyone else who had a claim one by one. But Hugo's spies have always been sorely lacking in expertise. Might be because I took the good ones with me when I left. Hugo will be so devastated, losing all his beloved children. He will need a strong shoulder to lean on. Especially as his sorrow will make him quite ill. I'm sure you remember your own terrible illness."
The malicious glee in the man's voice made bile rise in Viggo's throat. Don't aggravate him, don't react to his taunting, he told himself but it got increasingly hard. Hot rage was boiling in his blood at the careless cruelty so openly displayed in front of him. The Lord cocked his head slightly, regarding him with almost clinical interest.
"You are amazingly calm, princeling. Maybe you are more of a man than I thought."
He licked his lips managing to make a disgustingly wet sound in the process.
"I think I will enjoy breaking you too. Maybe I will even leave you alive once you and your friend their have been tamed. It will be fun to watch you fuck each other raw for my amusement."
That did it. With an angry roar Viggo kicked at the man, missing him by only an inch as he danced back, laughing.
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Beryll
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