The Castle of Solange - Pt. 4

Deena breathed, a deep in and out that steadied her. No one said it would be easy to best a sorceress. But she was no ordinary warrior. She had battled against the prejudice of her gender while she climbed the ranks in the King's Guard. She forged her body into a weapon, just as she learned the best uses of sword and shield. It seemed she would have to steel her mind as well as her body to rescue Ren. With no choice ahead of her, Deena moved down one of the cool, dim passages, searching for a scent of a kitchen where food might be prepared.

The first hall was a series of bedrooms and sitting rooms and a library. Some of the bedrooms were bright and cheery. Others were darkly decorated, with whips and floggers mounted on the wall for handy use. She was glad that Tienna had not given her some perverse love of torture. She was more tempted by the rooms with wide, soft-looking beds. After the near-constant battle with her own servile impulses, she wanted to rest. She did not believe that being discovered asleep in such a room would result in her freedom, though. The comfort was as much a prison as any of the cages she found in the more severe bedrooms.

It was in the second hall that Deena detected a scent that was rich and inviting. Not quite the smell of food being prepared, but like that of butter when it melted over warm bread. She followed the smell as it grew stronger, and was reminded that she was hungry as well as tired. In her search for armament, she could also slake her hunger. She would need all her wits to best the sorceress.

She found the source of the scent - a heavy door labeled FEEDING in a brass sign above it. That was encouraging. Deena leaned her head against the door and heard motion on the other side. Nothing that sounded threatening, but there were definitely people there. And that meant servants of Solange. She readied for battle, suppressing the pleasure she felt at the idea of leaping into the room in a tumble, ready for combat. The harlequin's influence made her body warm and soften at the idea of performing for those on the other side, and Deena reminded herself that when she came out of the tumble, she would be ready for battle, not applause. In a swift motion, Deena opened the door and rolled inside, gaining her feet easily - her body flushing with desire at how well her muscles obeyed her acrobatic impulses - her legs apart, arms raised at her sides ready for combat.

"Are you hear for your feeding?"

There were three women in the room. Two sat dazed on cushions on the floor, the other in a wooden chair with a high back. An ornate music box played a tinkling tune on a chest of drawers nearby. That and the gauzy white curtains covering the windows and purple tapestries covering the walls gave the room a pleasant and peaceful appearance. The woman, golden-haired and draped in similarly gauzy white fabric, stood slowly, a beatific smile spread across her handsome features. She did not move once standing and offered no immediate threat. The two girls on the floor hardly seemed to notice that Deena was there at all.

"Where is the kitchen?" Deena demanded.

"Across the dining hall. Oh dear, you look so tired. And your skin... Did that nasty Tienna get her hands on you?"

Deena growled, her stance suggesting that battle was imminent. She did not trust the woman standing before her. Despite that wariness, Deena observed the woman's wide hips, the sway of her generous breasts, her bare feet on the stone floor. She looked like some Earth spirit trapped in his room, bound by Solange to serve, perhaps.

"What have you done to them?" Deena asked, nodding to the girls sitting dazed on the floor cushions. they swayed in lazy arcs, eyes dim and unseeing, a stupified grin on their faces. They had the happy demeanor of mindless slaves.

"Nothing at all. I merely cared for them. When the sorceress trapped me, I had a choice to aid her and keep my mind or to become one of her minions. I chose the former. So now I help care for those who cannot think for themselves."

"And in caring for them, serve the damnable sorceress," Deena snarled.

The woman shrugged. The motion sent her pendulous breasts in motion again.

"Perhaps, but I am myself. My name is Hanna. Perhaps you are here to rescue me? Or was it someone else you sought?"

"The Princess. Ren."

"Ah, yes. One of the Mistress's favorite toys. It will be difficult to free her. Mistress Solange keeps her close. You will have to face the sorceress herself if you are to free her most prized possession. And you will never make it in that armor. Her guards will not allow it. They are willing to give their lives for their Mistress. And no matter how good you are, defending against the guards and the psychic attacks Mistress will concoct will be impossible. One or the other, perhaps, but not both. But, there might be a way..."

Deena's suspicion was great, but Hanna was not wrong about the difficulty in freeing the princess when Deena was assaulted from without and within. She was wary, but the golden-haired woman might be the help she needed. Or she could be another trap. Deena would be on guard for the latter and hope for the former.