Beneath a Midnight Moon

She stood in the middle of the inquisition chamber, her wrists tightly lashed to a thick iron bar suspended above her head.

"You will tell us what we wish to know," the Lord High Sovereign's interrogator demanded brusquely. "You will tell us today, or you will die tomorrow."

Kylene shook her head. She'd been imprisoned for almost a fortnight, and she still had no idea why they thought she could help them find the elusive Hardane.

"The lash is a crude weapon," the Interrogator mused. "Crude, but effective."

He nodded in the Executioner's direction and Kylene's body tensed as she waited for the lash to fall. The thick leather strap cracked through the air with the sound of thunder, biting deep into her skin, sizzling like summer lightning.

"Dying under the lash is a most unpleasant way to perish," the Interrogator remarked. "A way that, if done with care, can take a very long time."

It was an effort to hold her head up, to stay the words of pleading that rose in her throat. It was fortunate she didn't know where Hardane was, she thought, for she feared she would tell the Interrogator everything he wished to know if it would spare her the pain of the lash. But she could tell him nothing.

"Where is he?"

The whip fell again, and then again. Tears stung her eyes and clogged her throat. The blood trickling down her back felt like sunfire. A red haze hovered before her face, making everything else seem distant and out of focus.

Trembling convulsively, Kylene closed her eyes, and he was there, standing before her, his slate gray eyes warm with compassion. His hand reached out to her, the touch of his fingertips as soft as fairy mist as he gently wiped away her tears.

"Lady, come to me . . ."

Startled by the sound of his voice, so near, so real, she opened her eyes.

And he was gone.

Mad, she thought. I must be going mad.

And yet his voice seemed to linger in the room, surrounding her with its strength, cocooning her in its warmth, lessening her fears, easing her pain.

"Where is he?"

The Interrogator's voice cut through the silence, sharp as a blade.

Slowly, sadly, Kylene shook her head. "I don't know. I don't know who Hardane is. I don't know where he is."

The Interrogator nodded and the whip fell again.

She heard the sibilant hiss, felt it strike across her shoulders. From deep within her mind, she heard a low-pitched wail, like that of a man sobbing with fury.

As if from far away, she heard the Interrogator order the Executioner to put away the lash.

Sick with relief, she closed her eyes and surrendered to the darkness that dragged her down into blessed oblivion.