Getting Lost

Getting Lost

is a science-fantasy serial presented in 6 parts. I recommend reading

Getting Lost 1-5,

or the tale might not make sense. I want to thank Krellyn, Leah Harvey, and RNebular for editing.

I hope you've enjoyed this story. I have more works in progress and will probably have another submission soon.

Thank you all for reading. As always, I really appreciate your responses in comments or emails.

Guinevere A. Hart

**********

Lotus was awakened by a splash of cold water in her face. She couldn't move, finding her hands were bound by cords to the bedframe. She tried to scream, but she was choked by another bucket of water. When her eyes cleared, she watched Abo step back from her, taking his accursed bucket with him.

Sabrael approached and loomed over her. Red flares of angry light flashed all over his body. He hissed at her, "Where is my ship?"

"I don't know." The words croaked around the water in her nose and throat.

"I'll ask politely once more, my traitorous love. Where is my ship? Tell me now, or I will tear its location from your head."

"I. Don't. Know." She turned her head for him, giving Sabrael easy access to her marks.

He twitched then. Hesitant, his face twisted in an unaccustomed mix of rage, confusion, and doubt. Instead of tearing into her mind, he applied his

thellim

gently. Lotus opened herself to him and let him look. When he let go, he snarled at her in disgust, "How dare you. How dare you fear me. Me! I'm the one who saved you. I'm the one who loves you!"

Tears filled her eyes, and she whispered, "Love? You're doing it wrong."

"This place," he said. "This awful place and these damnable people have driven you insane. You will contact the

Nephilumen

, and we will leave at once."

She answered simply, "No." Then she asked, "Where's Pol?"

Sabrael's face dropped all emotion, but his skin still flared angry. He stiffened up straight, and his eyes became the cold black of space. He said, "You will see. And when you do, know that it is your poisoned tongue that has led us to this. It is because of you, their beloved priestess, that the people of Raelinholm will suffer a difficult lesson. They will know the wrath of the Divine."

At a nod from Sabrael, Abo freed her from the bed only to bind her hands tight behind her. While being tied, she tried to appeal to whatever reason remained in her mentor. "What wrath, Sabrael? No one's done anything wrong here. You're not divine. This was a ruse, and now it's over. That's all."

Sabrael ignored her. His hands were hard when he grabbed her and pulled her under his mantle. He spoke to Abo, "Tell Sem to prepare our contingency. Raelinholm has failed us and must be purged."

He dragged her out into the dimly lit hallway, propelling her swiftly through the keep and towards the gates. Lotus kept her voice low asking, "What contingency? What purge? Sabrael, what are you going to do?" Sabrael refused to speak to her.

Sabrael remained eerily silent while he pushed and pulled her through the trees, over the hills, and down to the beach. She scanned the shoreline, but saw no sign of Pol. Then she realized where they were going. There was a small system of limestone caves that jutted out into the water. It was high tide, and every nook and cranny of the grotto would be flooded.

Lotus planted her feet and struggled against Sabrael's tight hold on her. "No!" she shrieked at him. She squirmed and kicked, but he only held tighter. Out of desperation, she called on her magic, emitting a tiny bolt of energy from her body. It was not enough to injure the Eloua, but the shock of it forced him to let her go.

She reeled away from Sabrael and ran for the hills. The Eloua recovered quickly from the minor jolt. Her freedom lasted only seconds before he grabbed her again. He had her by the upper arms, and he lifted her bodily from the sand. He shook her, and it did more than physically hurt her. The sudden knowledge that Sabrael was capable of such a violent action was somehow even more painful.

The alien who had hold of Lotus was no longer the benign teacher who had cared for her. He was a stranger, a violent one who meant her harm. Her instinct took over, and Lotus' magic came to her defense. Using what she had, she called the sand and the wind to her will. She shut her eyes against the minor sand devil that swirled around her and the Eloua.

Sabrael threw Lotus to the ground and opened his mantle over her, using the great cloak of skin to shield his face and hers from the stinging sands. Spittle flew from his clenched teeth when he snarled in her face, "You will stop this!" His open palm sharply struck the side of her face.

For a moment, they were both stunned. Lotus was so shocked that she lost her spell. Then her head and neck hurt, the outside of her cheek burned, and inside her mouth, she tasted blood. Sabrael looked at his own shaking hand as though it didn't belong on the end of his wrist. "Stop this," he whispered, but Lotus didn't know if he was talking to her or to himself.

Eventually, he turned stricken eyes on her. "Lotus," he murmured, "I shouldn't have done that." He immediately looked away from her and said, "I am still in control. I can save this. I can save us."

His

thellim

emerged from his palm and clung to her face. For the first time in a century of life, Lotus actually regretted healing someone. Having paralyzed her, Sabrael scooped her up into his arms and continued toward the flooded grotto.

The sea was bitter cold, but the warmth of Sabrael's body kept her from freezing. Just before he pulled her under, Sabrael covered the lower half of Lotus' face with his hand. His

thellim

slipped into her nose and mouth. Through those appendages, he could feed her air while in the water, and she knew then he didn't intend to drown her.

The darkness of the nighttime grotto was broken only by the red glow of Sabrael's bioluminescence. The cave was full of life. Crabs scrambled along the walls, briefly illuminated by Sabrael's light. Small fish darted in and out of sight. Lotus even felt an eel slither over her legs. He brought her deep into the system, and then he stopped.

In the cramped lower cavern, it took Lotus several minutes to understand what she saw. With comprehension came an acute need to scream. The impulse was nearly as essential as the air and light provided by the monster who had taken her there. For a second, she contemplated biting the hand that fed her.

There were bodies in the grotto. Their lower limbs rooted in place by stones, they seemed to grow up from the cavern floor. She saw Pol, Merriel, and the other two ylf'nim women who'd looked after her. Kortahn floated there, too. They were all part of the same macabre garden, harvested by whatever the tide drew in.

In her despair, what defenses Lotus had left collapsed. Sabrael's voice reverberated in her head, "Look at what you did. You are responsible for this. The only way you can make this right is to obey me. Call the

Nephilumen

. Bring me my ship, and this need go no further."

While Lotus' heart ached for Pol and the others, it occurred to her that Dakath's body was not among them. She mentally answered her mentor, "No. I didn't do anything wrong. And I won't help you. Not anymore, not ever again."

"So be it." Sabrael's thought was final, and he withdrew from her head.

Lotus no longer knew who he was, if she ever really did. Though she was terrified by what he might do, she had to hold on to the hope that Dakath was still alive. She might have to hurt Sabrael, maybe even Sem and Abo, and she wasn't sure she could. The first thing she needed to do was get free of the Eloua and find Prince Dakath.

*****

When they returned to Sabrael's room, Lotus was again tied to the bed. Without even looking at her, Sabrael coldly, roughly, put his

thellim

to her head. Lotus felt as though a clawed hand clenched at her throat. She tried to scream then, but her voice had been taken somewhere far beyond her reach.

Abo paced nervously behind Sabrael, and the Eloua spoke to the sil over his shoulder. "Abo, why aren't you and Sem preparing the matter disruption spheres?"

"Sabrael, I'm sorry. I don't know how it's happened, but someone has taken several spheres. We haven't enough for a full purge."

Sabrael's entire body froze. His

thellim

drew away from Lotus' face, and she could feel an insane rage roiling just beneath the surface of his skin. The Eloua took a moment, fixing his expression and his stance. He forced a control that Lotus knew he no longer felt. Stiff, Sabrael turned on Abo. His glow still flashed red, but his voice was quiet, falsely pleasant. "And how is it, dear Abo, our own weapons have vanished beneath our vigilance? Are they suddenly little fish, with flashing fins and quick tails, to have slipped our nets?"

"I'm afraid I don't know, but Sem has begun a quiet search for the missing spheres."

Sabrael turned back to Lotus. He leaned quite close, so that his breath stirred her hair. He whispered, "If this is another of your little pranks, my love, I am not amused by it."

Lotus didn't understand what he was talking about. She hadn't even known they had taken weapons with them when they'd left Arcadia. He didn't give her a chance to respond on her own. Sabrael put his tentacles on her face again to force the truth from her, but he had taken her voice. She could only shake her head to indicate her ignorance in the matter.

"Dakath!" Sabrael snarled. Then he spun on his assistant. "Abo, attend me. It seems we must have a conversation with our royal prisoner."

Tears falling, Lotus lifted her head to shout a silent, "No!" She was ignored as the Eloua and the sil left the room, locking the door behind them.

When they were gone, Lotus tried to access her power. Whatever Sabrael had done to her, it stifled her abilities. She twisted her hands, the rough rope scraping the skin on her wrists. She squirmed and pulled, but the knots held. She couldn't even scream in her frustration. Lotus continued to struggle against her bonds while she tried to break the hold Sabrael had placed on her voice and her magic.

From outside the room, she could hear a commotion: shouting, a scream, the clatter of primitive weaponry. Lotus fought until her hands bled, and that's when she began to feel the stirrings of her power return. Her breath rasped in and out, blood spattered on the floor, and still she tugged and prayed. Pain exploded throughout her hand and wrist when her thumb snapped out of joint.

It was the catalyst Lotus' magic needed. She pulled her devastated hand from the rope and immediately healed the worst of the damage, but she still didn't have the energy she needed to even fully heal the wounds. While Lotus freed herself, the door slammed open and shut again. She still couldn't access her offensive power, but she extended her hand and telekinetically pulled a chair into her grip. Lotus launched herself from the bed and spun to face what she assumed was an attacker.

Dakath stood there, staring at her. His hair was a tangle, and his fine clothes were a mess with blood and sweat. He had a black eye and a cut lip, but the worst of his wounds seemed to be a gash at the back of his left hand. His fingers were an angry purple, and he cradled the wounded hand near his chest. He looked at her, the chair still upraised for a fight, and he gave her a lopsided grin. "Okay, so that's hot, but this is the part where the prince saves his princess. We have to get out of here, and right now."

She slowly lowered the chair and looked at him in wonder. She focused on his wounded hand. Then she looked back up at his face with a question in her eyes.

"Yeah," he said with a shrug. "So, sword fighting's not my forte. Lesson one: keep my damn hand out of the way. Don't worry, I can still cast. And you? Are you okay?"

Lotus only shook her head in response, but she couldn't help but smile. Dakath was alive and at least as well as herself. She dropped the forgotten chair and threw her arms around him. When Lotus tried to heal Dakath, she found her magic still wasn't strong enough. She found a handkerchief she'd embroidered and tied his hand as best she could.

"Thanks. And I take it you're not one hundred percent either? Lotus, why won't you say anything?" he asked. In response, she put her fingers to her throat and emphatically shook her head.

"Okay. Well, we'll get to that in a bit. Right now, I'm getting us the Infernal out of here." Dakath started the workings of an intricate spell. While he drew his runes, he spoke to her over his shoulder. "Watch the door for me. And I hope you don't have any special destination in mind. I've got to do this quick. And it doesn't help that I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing."

When she didn't move, he paused and looked at her. "Lotus!" he spoke sharply, and she snapped out of a trance she seemed to be in. "I need you. You've got to get on that door, and keep them out until I can get this teleport spell off. Okay?"

She shook off a sudden sense of impending doom. Dakath was fine and she would be, too. They just had to get away. Sure of her cooperation, Dakath began the verbal incantations for his teleportation spell, and Lotus watched the door. The runes surrounding Dakath's circle began to light, but it wasn't happening fast enough. Outside, the guards were coming. She could hear them shouting and crashing around out there. They were coming, and they'd be in the room before Dakath's spell was ready.

Thinking quickly, Lotus placed her hands to either side of the door. Though she was drained from Sabrael's treatment, she released a small pulse of residual power. She managed barely enough to warp the wood and stone of the doorway. The seal wouldn't hold for long, but she prayed it would be long enough. The effort further weakened her, and Lotus fell.

Dakath turned towards her, interrupting his own magic. He shouted, "Lotus!?"

She nodded and pointed at his unfinished circle of runes, urging him to continue. Then suddenly, she sensed Sabrael on the other side of the door. The new marks he'd made on her wrists burned through the pain of tearing through her bonds. Even though he wasn't physically connected to her, a forceful mental blast hit inside her head and shattered whatever defenses she had left. In his maddened jealous rage, Sabrael tore through her mind with searing pain. The sudden agony of his psychic attack paralyzed her.

The door exploded into the room. Thinking quickly, Dakath cast a shielding spell that protected them from the wooden shrapnel. Splinters slapped at the magical force field and fell in a circle around them. Sem, who'd used one of his own people's pulse cannons on the door, moved back and Sabrael glided into the room.

Sabrael looked at her, and his face crumpled in sorrow. He regretted what he'd done to her, while maintaining his anger over what she'd done to him. The pain immediately subsided, and Lotus rose to her feet. She put her body between Sabrael and Dakath. With a silent plea to ancient gods, she begged for the return of her mentor's sanity.

There was little left of the gentle Eloua who'd raised her. He commanded her, "Move."

Part of her wanted to move, wanted to obey the person who had saved her life, taken her in, and taught her to be the woman she was. But then, he'd also systematically stripped her of nearly everything that was herself. Defiance rose up in her, and Lotus firmly shook her head no.

"Fine." Then she felt him in her head again. He was trying to gain her motor control so that he could move her out of the way. He came further into the room, with guards close behind him. She didn't think the sil would hurt her, but their weapons were primed to destroy the prince.

Dakath stepped around Lotus while he called the runes for another spell. Darts of light flew from his fingertips. His magic tore into the Eloua's mantle and singed Abo's scales. Sabrael hissed as wounds opened up in his skin and dripped blue-green blood. Still, his focus was locked on controlling Lotus.

Elven guards rushed into the room followed by King Azerrul and Dakath's brother, Malevaur. The king shouted, "Stop! Stop this at once, please!" Both Sabrael and Dakath turned their attention towards the king's interruption. Azerrul begged, "My lord, you do not have to kill my son. Dakath has done wrong, but he is young and simply misguided. I will have him imprisoned again, and this time, he shall not escape. I give you my word. Please, just don't take my son."

While Azerrul pleaded for his son's life, the guards pushed past Sem and Abo to approach Dakath. In moments, the sil, the elven guards, and Dakath fell into a brawl with one another. The king continued to meekly babble for peace with ineffectual placating hand gestures. Malevaur simply glowered from the safety of the doorway, a dark and ugly sneer of disgust twisting his features.

In all the chaos, Sabrael kept his eyes on Lotus. He grabbed her wrist in one hand, while the other palm opened up to release his tentacles. He pulled hard, slamming her body against his own and he wrapped his mantle tight around her. At first, she thought he tried to shield her from the fray, but she realized too late, that it was not the case. Lotus squirmed and tried to get free of him, but his tendrils whipped around her face and neck. In seconds, they found their place on her marks, and Sabrael had her.

Lotus tried to fight him while he ripped through her thoughts and her memories. Nothing within her was sacred. He threw away her past, everything she had ever been, and everything she ever thought she might be. Sabrael's fury was a hurricane inside her head, and Lotus lost her fight with only a final quavering whimper.

There was hardly anything left of her when Sabrael's body suddenly stiffened, and his tentacles whipped away from her face. When they did, they took with them his name, even what he was. The elfess looked up into the face of the creature that held her, and its big black eyes were wide with shock. Its small mouth opened in a cough that spewed a gout of hot green blood.

The monster lost its grip on her, and turned to face its attacker. A male elf, dressed in royal finery, pulled his sword from the creature's body. She looked at that man and thought she should thank him for saving her. The words wouldn't come out. They caught on an odd terror that seemed to have no anchor in her mind.

The crowned regal elf's face was pained with regret. His hands shook, and the sword he'd stabbed his god with clattered on the stone floor. "My lord, Sabrael, I- I'm sorry. But you must know that you alone can stop this madness. You- you must. Let your priestess go. And let my son go, please."

Near that man were four uniformed elves who held another one in chains. The captive man looked like someone she should know. Though, like her own name, she just couldn't remember. He lifted his bloodied face, and she longed to help him, but she couldn't understand what was happening. He pleaded with his eyes and then he groaned, "Go now. Run!"

Another finely dressed elf stood in the doorway, and he spoke up. "And where do you think your witch will run, brother?" He held a small spherical device in his hands. At the sight of that device, the glowing monster and his serpent-like followers froze. The elf spoke to the monster, "Oh yes, demon. I discovered your box of hell and the unholy weapons you planned to unleash upon us. I know your secrets! When this day is done,

I

will be king. And I swear before all the

true

gods of Hibreon, my world holds no place for demons nor magic." He sneered at her and said, "Witch, you shall follow your demon lord back to the Infernal Tempest."

The room was intensely silent. All eyes focused on the elf with the device. Then the monster looked at the one in chains. The guards who held the chains fell to the floor in sudden seizure. At the same time, the elf in the doorway tossed his device into the room. He stepped back into the hallway and slammed the door, locking them all inside.