Who are you?
By: Darksmith
This story was originally submitted to Mythic!
“Who are you?” A voice from the dark asked.
“Does it matter?” She sneered. Her hands bound behind her as she sat on the chair. Her armor was still on, so she assumed that whoever captured her had not search very thoroughly.
“Answer the question.” The voice responded.
She smirked, “Why? What do I get out of it besides more questions?” If they would leave, she could slip the ropes with ease, but the fact she could not isolate where the voice was coming from was an issue. They had pulled the mask from her face and that meant only one thing… They all had to die.
“You might die quickly, as opposed to a painfully torturous existence.” Was the voice’s answer. It was a masculine voice, educated with an aristocratic quality. She figured he was older than forty and either noble or used to being around nobility. Considering she had no clue how she got here and the fact that she could not determine the location of the man meant one thing. He was a mage.
“Lovely… So I cooperate and I get to die quickly? No thanks, if I die I might as well take as much time as possible.” If she just knew where he was she would have a chance. Slip the bonds, pull a hidden knife, and put it between the bastard’s eyes.
A chuckle filled the darkness as the voice responded, “I never said I would kill you if you didn’t answer, my dear. I said it would be a painfully torturous existence. And trust me, I’ve had hundreds of years of study to know how to stretch your life out as long as I want no matter how much pain and agony you suffer. Now answer the question… Who are you?”
