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Site content may offend. Content includes horror, murder, torture, lawlessness, military carnage, Anglo Saxon crudities, occasional adult incidents and George Bush |
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"Very easily," said Sharla. "Now - it really is time you tidied yourself up. Don't struggle, or this will hurt more than it has to." Then she produced a pair of tweezers. Ruthlessly, she grasped one of the black hairs which was protruding from Vorn's nostrils and tore it out by the roots. "Ah!" yelled Vorn. "No! No!" "Stop making a fuss," said Sharla. "It's uncouth to have hairs growing out of your nostrils, it makes you look like a barbarian." "But I am a barbarian," protested Vorn. "No, you are not a barbarian at all," said Sharla. "You are the civilized son of a very civilized family and it's time you put aside these childish games and grew up." Then, remorselessly, she tore out all the rest of his nostril hairs, one by one. Then Sharla departed, and Bill the Butcher - most feared man in all of Chi'ash-lan - stalked into the White Chamber. The very passage of his shadow was the stuff of nightmares. There had been times when he had haunted Vorn's nightmares, and Vorn had woken screaming. The very thought of him his bloody trade was enough to make Vorn cringe. But here he was in the flesh, in the flesh! "Don't do it to me," begged Vorn. "But I must," said Bill the Butcher, brisk and businesslike. "What have I ever done to you?" said Vorn. "You were born under one of the signs of the zodiac," said Bill the Butcher. "You were born of woman. You breathe air and you eat butter. And, besides, you chew chop bones." "That's wrong?" "You offend my god," said Bill the Butcher gravely. Then he forced Vorn's mouth open with a set of mouth-forcing levers. He took a pair of tongs and seized a tooth. And tore it out by the roots. Pain tore the cosmos in half. Vorn screamed and sobbed. Then Bill the Butcher grabbed another tooth. But this one did not come so sweetly. Instead, it resisted. Sheets of white and red pain went blasting through Vorn's skull. The sweat bulged on his forehead then went skidding down his face. He screamed, helplessly. He was going to die, he was going to die of sheer agony. In a brief pause in the torture, he sobbed and begged. "Not again," he said, "not again, no, no, I'll give you gold, diamonds, anything, just don't hurt me any more." "Ah," said Bill the Butcher, shaking his head gravely. "I'd like to let you go, young master. But Lord Hogadarnath himself has personally charged me to do my duty." Then he grabbed yet another tooth with the tongs. This tooth was totally rotten and immediately shattered into fragments. Vorn screamed. "A grim business," said Bill the Butcher, seeing that the base of the tooth still clung to the jawbone. Bill the Butcher went to work on it with a cunning set of sharpened steel tools, rooting out the last remnants of the fractured tooth. Incoherent with agony, Vorn howled. And, sometime during the procedure, fainted clean away. When Vorn recovered, his chains were being undone. Strong men grabbed him and hauled him out of the White Chamber. Outside, he was given a hearty push. He went reeling into the sunlight and crashed into the street. Weakly, he lay there in the dust, with the hot sun beating on his back. "Vorn," said a familiar voice. "Get up." Vorn knew that voice. Oh yes, he knew it! It was the voice of Lord Hogadarnath, the Tyrant of Chi'ash-lan, the Chief of Destiny, the Slayer of Dogs. Groggily, Vorn got to his knees. He looked up. Lord Hogadarnath was waiting, mounted on a white horse. Seated on a second horse was Nazoora Petal, the cruelest woman in the universe. Mounted on a third horse was Sharla the Swordswoman, an empty mount beside her. Nazoora looked down upon the brawny young man who lay sprawled in the dust. "You," she said, "must stop gnawing chop bones." Vorn did not answer. "Do you hear me?" said Nazoora sharply. "Yes," said Vorn weakly. All the right had gone out of him. "You are destined to inherit the Empire," said Nazoora. "Do you understand?" "If I must," said Vorn, yielding. He would grow old, and his paunch would swell, and colors would fade, and he would come to prefer calligraphy to copulation. The gaudy brilliance of his youthful feats would become just a memory, and in time he would come to disdain that memory. He saw it all. And he accepted. He had been defeated by his enemies, and he must accept the consequences of defeat. "Very well," said Nazoora. "Then get up. There's not much time. We're having a banquet this evening, and you must have a bath before then." "A bath!" said Vorn in horror, remembering the pain of the grease scrapers and the flagellating leather straps. "But I had a bath last year!" "Exactly," said Nazoora. "Last year it was. Now stop sniveling and get on your horse." "Yes, mother," said Vorn. And, obediently, he got on the spare horse and, riding beside Sharla the Swordswoman, he began to follow his parents back to the Red Citadel, the ruling palace of Chi'ash-lan. "And one more thing," said Lord Hogadarnath, as they rode along. "This nonsense has got to cease. Next time, my son, you will go to the dentist when you are told to." "Yes, dad," said Vorn. And began to concentrate on gathering his courage to endure the ordeal of the bath which yet awaited him. |
This story, "Vorn the Gladiator", was first published in Vampire Dan's Story Emporium No. 10, Winter 2000 (ed. Daniel Medici) (Syracuse, United States) (pp 33-43; 4,364 words) (fantasy). Published for a second time (first British publication) in Legend Issue 3 (received June 2001) (ed. Trevor Denyer) (Aldershot, United Kingdom, ISSN 1471-7786) (pp 13-17; unchanged 4,364 words) (fantasy). Copyright © 2000, 2001 Hugh Cook. |
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zenvirus.com. Copyright © 2002 Hugh Cook. All rights reserved. |
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A dragon story. Featuring (amongst other things) a dragon. Not yet dead. But the dragon, really, is only a small part of the problem. |
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