Wizard's First Rule

Richard couldn't remember her being so angry, so severe, so cruel. Soon he couldn't remember anything, even where he was. He convulsed in pain. He couldn't say anything or beg her to stop, or even breathe most of the time. She never slowed or let up. She just seemed to get angrier as she hurt him. He saw blood on the floor, a lot of blood. It splattered all over her white leather. Her chest heaved with her effort, her rage. Her braid came loose.

Denna grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. She gave him no warning. She drove the Agiel in his ear harder than she ever had. She did it again and again. Time distorted into eternity. He no longer knew who he was, or what was happening. He no longer tried to beg, to cry, to hold on.

She stopped, standing next to him, panting in ire. "I'm going to dinner." He felt the agony of the magic come on in him. He gasped, his eyes going wide. "While I'm gone, and I'm going to take my time, I've leaving the pain of the magic on you. You will not be able to pass out, or to stop it. If you let the anger get away from you, it will make the pain worse. And it will get away from you. I promise."

She went to the wall and hoisted the rope up until his feet were off the floor. Richard cried out. His arms felt as if they would be torn out.

"Enjoy yourself." She turned on her heels and left.

Richard balanced on the edge of sanity and madness, the suffering twisting in him, making him unable to control the anger, as she had promised. The flames of his hurt consumed him. It was somehow worse that she wasn't there. He had never felt so alone, so helpless, and the pain wouldn't even let him cry; he could only gasp in agony.

He had no idea how long he was left alone. He was aware only of suddenly dropping to the floor, then Denna's boots to either side of his head as she stood over him. She turned off the pain of the magic, but his arms were still clamped helplessly behind his back, and the burning inferno of pain in his shoulders didn't extinguish. He cried against the blood on the floor as she stood over him.

"I told you before," she hissed through gritted teeth, "you are my mate for life." He could hear her heavy breathing, the rage in her. "Before I begin doing worse to you, and you are no longer able to speak, I want you to tell me why you asked to have-Constance train you instead of me."

He coughed up blood, trying to speak.

"That is not the way you talk to me! On your knees! Now!"

He tried to get to his knees, but with his arms behind his back, he was unable to. Denna took a fistful of his hair and pulled him up. Dizzy, he fell against her, his face against the wet blood on her belly. His blood.

She pushed him away from her with the tip of the Agiel against his forehead. That brought his eyes open. He looked up at her, to answer.

Denna backhanded him across the-mouth. "Look at the ground when you speak to me! No one gave you permission to look at me!" Richard looked down at her boots. "You're running out of time! Answer the question!"

Richard coughed up more blood; it ran down his chin, and he had to struggle to keep from vomiting. "Because, Mistress Denna," he said hoarsely, "I know it hurts you to hold the Agiel. I know it hurts you to train me. I wanted Mistress Constance to do it, to spare you the pain. I don't want you to hurt. I know what it feels like to hurt; you have taught me. You have already been hurt enough; I don't want you to hurt any more. I would rather have Mistress Constance punish me than have you be in pain."

He strove to balance himself on his knees. There was a long silence. Richard stared at her boots, and coughed a little, struggling to breathe with the pain in his shoulders. The silence seemed as if it would never end. He didn't know what she was going to do to him next.

"I don't understand you, Richard Cypher," she said softly, at last, the anger gone from her voice. "The spirits take me, I don't understand you." She walked behind him, unhooked the device that held his arms, and walked out of the room without another word. He couldn't straighten out his arms properly, and fell on his face. He didn't try to get up, he only cried against the bloody floor.

After a time, he heard the bell, calling them to the evening devotion. Denna came back in, squatted down next to him, put her arm gently around him, and helped him to his feet.

"We are not allowed to miss a devotion," she explained in a quiet voice, hooking the chain to her belt.

The sight of his blood all over the white lather was shocking. There were strings of it across her face and in her hair. As they walked to the devotion, people who usually spoke to her averted their eyes and gave her wide passage. Kneeling with his head to the floor hurt his ribs, making it hard to breathe, much less chant. He didn't know if he was getting the words right, but Denna didn't correct him, so he just went on. How he stayed upright the whole time, without tipping over, he didn't know.