Bloodsword: War of the Leaf

Put to the Question

Tev braced himself the entire trip through darkened corridors to where his questioning would begin.  A single thought dominated his mind during that trip: could he hold off the truth long enough to fall unconscious?  What would happen if these bastards learned the truth?  That he was the Sword of Blood, not that old S'ia blade.  What would happen to him??

Then a big, thick metal door was being pushed aside to allow the two Silver Hawks carrying him to hustle him inside.  There, by the light of a pair of flickering torches, they strapped him to a table that was sitting at a 45-degree angle, forcing Tev almost upright.  As they stepped away, their task done, Tev caught a quick glimpse of the room itself and what he saw made his blood run cold.

There, stacked in a corner, was a broad assortment of tools of torture: metal tongs, long metal spikes, pliers and iron pokers.  Added to that was a small brazier for heating the metal and different types of racks, including one that sandwiched a man between two sheets of spike-covered wood.  The slightest move from a suspended position would serve to drive the spikes into any creature's body.

"Fear not, human," Botha said as he stepped close, having caught sight of Tev taking measure of the room as he entered.  "You'll be thrown into one of those soon enough.  Right now, however, we're going to start with the basics."  Reaching out, Botha had a heavy iron poker placed into his hand.  Without hesitation he plunged it deep into the heart of the glowing brazier.  All the while he kept a close watch on Tev's face, looking for any reaction to what he was doing.

The young human tightened every muscle in his body in an attempt to remain untouched by what the giant Solavar was doing.  'By the First, I'm not going to give this arrogant fool the satisfaction of seeing me afraid,' he silently vowed, staring back at Botha with what he hoped was a cool expression of disinterest.

In response, the Silver Hawk smiled frostily.

"We'll see how long that attitude survives," the big elf growled and reached for the iron, now white hot with heat.

"I wager not long!"

The four Silver Hawks that stood outside the torture chamber jerked as yet another scream split the air, louder and more pain-filled than the last.  One slowly shook her head in astonishment.  It had been almost seven straight hours since Botha had begun, working carefully with pincers, pokers and pliers in an attempt to ease the secret of the Sword of Blood's activation out of the human.

But, despite the Silver Hawk commander's skill and experience, the human had steadfastly refused to give the big Solavar anything.  Not even the satisfaction of knowing that he was hurting the human.  The only indication that the torture was having any effect at all was that the harshest of the methods Botha was employing were finally pulling screams out of the human, which had started about two hours ago.  That was when the Silver Hawk commander, frustrated by his lack of success, had started using ever more devastating torture tools and methods.

Botha grimaced and leaned back from the bloody, almost unconscious human still tied hand and foot to the angled table.

"Not even a whisper, Kestival," he growled with frustration to one of the Silver Hawks that was helping him.

"No, my lord.  He is most resistant," the slender Solavar answered, dressed in full armor.  Only his eyes were visible within the shadows of his helmet.  Eyes that even now gazed with something akin to hero worship as they looked at Botha.

"And resilient as well," a second Silver Hawk, also fully armored and standing just behind Botha, added with not a little admiration in his voice.  "It's almost as if your greatest work, my lord, has been instantly healed!"