"I can do nothing for you, Leilavin. Alaric would kill me for helping you."
Bitter, mocking laughter rang in Nyori's mind, yet the mirth skirted the edge of sobbing. Alaric will kill you anyway. He spoke only the truth to you earlier. You will scream, as I have. But if you free me, I will guide you out of here safely. I swear this to you.
Nyori Shifted to her Inner Mind despite her terror, allowing her to focus Neumos. She probed with the healing Discipline. Nausea immediately rocked her as Leilavin's agony flared like a fuel-soaked fire. She placed a hand on her roiling stomach. "If I remove the nails, the shock will surely kill you."
Leilavin's body jerked against the spikes that pinned her to the table. Nyori tried not to wince as the flesh pulled and blood oozed from the wounds. Leilavin's body sagged. I am dead regardless. Better now than by torture at the hands of Alaric's monster. Free me, and I will be your slave, your obedient creature. I will share all the secrets of the powers I possess.
"If I do this, it's not for what you can promise me." Nyori's mind settled as she realized she could not leave anyone in such a state, not even Leilavin. She steeled herself as her hand hovered over one of the thin spikes. "This will take some time, and will be very painful."
There is no time. You must remove them all at once.
Nyori's mouth dropped open. "At one time? How can I possibly—?"
You must use the Crafts.
"Alaric took Eymunder with him. And even with it, I wouldn't know how to—"
Eymunder is but an amplifier. A crutch if depended on too much. If you could not focus the Crafts, Eymunder would have been useless to you. Focus as you have been taught.
Nyori closed her eyes. Intertwined memories guided her to the focus required. In her Other eye she saw Leilavin's flesh, pulsing with weak and flickering khara. The quivering spikes were obsidian needles plunged into her body. It would be difficult to link to each point, but if she widened her focus…
"I don't think you will survive this, Leilavin. If the shock doesn't kill you, I still have only myself to link for healing. I would weaken to the point of dying myself."
There are others to link to. Alaric's servants watch you even now, from high above.
Keeping part of herself linked to the spikes, Nyori cautiously probed her remaining consciousness upward. Leilavin was right. Two Dhamphir hung upside-down from the ceiling far above them. She felt their presence crawl across her mind like insect legs. Though they could not hear the silent conversation, they appeared to sense something was awry. They positioned themselves as if in anticipation, peering with suspicious eyes.
You will have to be quick. Link to them for the healing. You will render them too weak to harm us.
Sweat slicked Nyori's brow. "I…don't think I can. It's too hard to split my focus like this—"
If you do not, then I am as good as dead. And you will take my place at this table when they finish me. I do not think you will last as long as I have.
One of the Dhamphir emitted a high-pitched squeal from its perch. Nyori sensed them as they flexed their leathery wings. Whether from some mental command or sheer instinct, the Dhamphir suddenly launched from their stations. They dove with folded wings, filling the air with their shrieks and the onslaught of their stench.
It must be now, Nyori!
Nyori surrendered to the focus, acting on intuition and the submerged consciousness of Teranse the Theurgist. With her links of Transference, she yanked every spike from Leilavin's body simultaneously. They twirled in the air, flinging droplets of blood as Leilavin's muffled scream echoed in Nyori's ears.
At the same time, Nyori cast a net of Neumos toward the diving Dhamphir, linking their vibrant khara to Leilavin's weakened ones. Doing so in such a manner was a violation of everything she had been taught. Healing was always voluntary, never forced. Even delving from an animal was a gentle exchange, not the violent seizure as she did with the Dhamphir. In the midst of her focus, a small voice questioned whether what she did was any different from the akhkharu when they drained their victims.
She didn't have time to ponder the matter. The Dhamphir's cries cut off abruptly as their life's energies were swiftly drained. Unable to control their functions, they fell unchecked to the ground paces away with a sickening crunch of splintered bones. Their broken wings fanned across the floor, stretching the vein-riddled membranes as the creatures whined and gasped for air. Revolted, Nyori turned away, focusing her attention on Leilavin.
The petite woman sat upright on the stone table. One hand had removed the gag and blindfold. The other hand was upraised.
Where the dully gleaming spikes still hung in the air. Still flecked with her blood, they hovered ominously, the points turned in Nyori's direction.
Nyori took a step back. "No. You promised—"
Leilavin lowered her arm. The spikes whirred past Nyori, blowing her hair back with the speed of their passing. She heard the anguished shrieks of the Dhamphir as the flying slivers of metal mercilessly skewered them.
Nyori exhaled a trembling breath. "I thought that—"
"You must excuse me, Mistress." Leilavin gingerly stepped down from the table, treating her nakedness as if of no account. Her body was taut and slender, gleaming with health despite the faded scars where the spikes had pinned her to the table. Her skin was pale but no longer sickly, and her pitch black hair hung to the small of her back.
"I had waited to do that for a very long time. It was the monster Krolo that tortured me so, but I had to make do with his brethren for the time being. And then Alaric—" Her dark eyes glimmered. "Yes, he will pay more than any."
"I did not waste this energy to create another Reaver, Leilavin." Nyori studied her. Although her features were the same, it was like seeing a completely different woman. Leilavin's eyes had changed as well. Instead of crimson and catlike, they were dark brown and almond-shaped like Han and the Shiru.
"You look…different."
Leilavin ran fingers across her skin. Her eyes glistened with pain restrained by powerful pride. "The torture was the least part of what Alaric did to me. He used Mothros to sever me from my previous form. I am now as mortal as you are, Mistress." She said the word 'mortal' like a curse. "Should I dwell on my state, it would break my will. We are in grave danger, Mistress. But I can guide you away from this place if you allow me."
Nyori hesitated. "I…can't just leave, Leilavin. Alaric has Eymunder. I have to get it back from him."
Leilavin's eyes glinted when she smiled. "I hoped you would say that, Mistress. I will do whatever I can to help you."
"Why do you call me Mistress?"
Leilavin dropped to her knees. "I swore I would serve you, and I will keep my word." She took Nyori's hand, using her finger to trace what seemed to be a Glyph across her brow. "Nis ilim zakaru semu," she murmured. A golden character flashed on her forehead before sinking into her skin.
Nyori pulled back. "What have you done?"
"It is an oath of fealty." Leilavin stood. "I am bound to you now, sworn to obey and protect you until you choose to release me."
"I won't have you as a slave. I release you now."
"It is impossible unless you know the proper command. Were I you, I would worry less about my state of freedom, and more about our dire circumstances. We can continue this conversation in a more appropriate setting later. That is merely my advice, Mistress."
Nyori felt her emotions clash as her mind raced. She knew wariness was necessary when dealing with the woman. Leilavin had lived for centuries, had served as an Acolyte for Stygan himself. Nyori doubted anyone in her position would trust her. Many would immediately put the woman to death if knowing even a portion of her history. But at the moment Leilavin was also the only person who could help her.