Milyn looked around the room hopelessly. There was no way out that she could see. The door was sturdy and locked, and there were no windows. The only piece of furniture in the room was the simple stool she was seated on. Folding her hands together in supplication, she knelt on the hard stone floor, bowing her head in prayer. Only the One God could save her now.
It had been four days ago that the Convent of the Precious Gift had been taken. She had lived there for most of her young life, dedicating herself body and soul to the One God. The calm, regimented life was all she could remember. As the nuns were brides of the One God, she could not even remember what men looked like, as they were never allowed inside the holy grounds of the convent. But that day, she had finally seen men in all their horror.
Rough, grinning brigands had somehow got in past the tall walls and strong iron gates, pillaging and killing at whim. The Flames of the One God, elite nun warriors who protected the holy place, had somehow been overcome. Milyn had seen little of it, for she had been sent to hide in a storehouse with a few other young nuns, in the hope that they would be safe there until the trouble was dealt with. But instead, blood-stained bandits had found them there, bound them hand and foot, and loaded them in carts like sacks of grain. Milyn's last view of the convent was of it burning, growing smaller and smaller as she was taken away into the wide cruel world.
Her captor's destination was a stone-walled town a few days journey away. They only made a few stops on the way there, as the bandits untied and fed their captors as quickly as possible. Out of the near two-hundred nuns who had lived at the convent, Milyn could see that only about thirty-odd had been taken captive. The greater part of those were the younger, more comely nuns, and she despaired when she realized what that probably meant as to their captor's intentions. There were at least twice as many of the ruffians, and no chance for escape ever presented itself.
Honestly, even if she had seen a chance Milyn was unsure if she would have taken it. She was just too afraid of the consequences when they inevitably caught her again. Truly, she was shocked that none of these vile men had forced themselves on any of the Sisters. While she had never been out in the world, there had been many sermons preached about the filthy lusts of such evil men.
When they had reached the town, it seemed only half-filled. Many houses lay silent and presumably vacant. Still, there were a number of people up and about, going about their business. Strangely, none of them seemed at all perturbed at the sight of the bound sisters being driven down main street in carts. A few of the young men did crane their necks to get a better look, hungry looks on their faces, but that was the extent of their reaction.
The town was formed around a sprawling, elegant manor building which lay at its heart. The carts stopped in the stone-flagged square in front, and the brigands set to work at once hauling the battered and frightened Sisters out and lining them up facing the building, while one of their number went within. Milyn whimpered in pain as she was roughly pushed to her feet. She felt light-headed from a mixture of terror and gnawing hunger.
The one who had entered the building soon returned, bringing with him a tall man in rich clothes of black and gold. He came towards the line of bedraggled Sisters, high black boots clicked softly on the stone with every step. His brown, wavy hair framed a broad forehead, large and penetrating green eyes, and an aquiline nose. He was slender, with pale skin, and his hands seemed unusually long-fingered. In one black-gloved hand, the stranger casually gripped a rod about two feet in length, capped with the snarling visage of some great hunting cat.
Milyn could clearly tell that this man was in charge. The rough brigands treated him with a deference tinged with a hint of fear, as if he were more dangerous than all of them put together, despite the man's almost cheerful demeanor. As he walked down the line of nuns, he examined each one closely, peering into their eyes and running his gaze critically over their bodies. Cowed, none of the Sisters would look him in the eye... until he came to Mother Selcrie.
Mother Selcrie was one of the only two senior nuns who had been taken by the bandits, rather than slaughtered; the other being Mother Elantine, who was further down the line. A stern-faced, strict, middle-aged woman, Mother Selcrie had been the harshest disciplinarian at the convent, quick to assign hours of reciting Acts of Contrition while kneeling directly on hard stone floors to young nuns who giggled, gossiped, or let their attention wander from their duties. Before the attack, Milyn would have said she was the most fearsome person in the world.
When the richly dressed stranger arrived in front of her, Mother Selcrie looked him in the eye, and spoke out in a firm, loud, angry voice. "I know not who you are, but you have made a terrible mistake in violating the sanctity of holy ground and assaulting those dedicated to the One God. In this world, the Church will hunt you down and put you and yours to the sword, and in the next, you will burn forever in a river of hellfire! Not one stone of this place will be left standing atop the other when the soldiers of the One God finish with you!"
She pursed her lips, breathing hard, then lowered her voice from the near-shout it had been, looking about at the other men in the square. "However, if you release us and repent, mercy might yet be granted. Any man who does not wish to die a terrible death and spend an eternity in torment must make a stand now, or be forever damned. The full weight of these sins rests upon the head of he who ordered the deed done. For others, there might be clemency, provided my Sisters and I are brought to the nearest Church unharmed."
Milyn drew in a short, sharp breath. She really, really didn't think that had been a wise thing for the Mother to do. These men were not going to be cowed by threats, however much truth was behind them. She could see they respected and feared the tall man too much. She felt a sinking sensation in her stomach for what would be coming next. This was just the same as if a foolish young nun had tried to challenge one of the Mothers publicly; the reaction would no doubt be swift and brutal retaliation, to drive out any further thought of defiance in all those who watched.
The tall man drew back a step, and a wide smile stretched over his face. It was a strange expression that Milyn didn't think she'd ever seen before; he looked genuinely happy, yet there was a fierce, smoldering anger lurking in his eyes. "Ah, a bit of backbone! But... no flexibility, no adaptation." He shook his finger at her. "Same old story, different day," he continued in a sing-song voice. He sighed, then abruptly snapped his fingers and clicked his tongue. "We'll have to deal with you directly. Object lesson and all... no offense."
