Rolf nodded and started for the small postern gate we had come through earlier tugging on the reins of Larc's horse in one hand as he urged it to follow along after him. Larc made as if to protest leaving without me, but I motioned him to silence.
"Go with Rolf. He'll keep you safe." And with that, they were gone.
Making my way up the various levels of the citadel I was careful to not expose myself to any sentries. I closed in on the window the scream had come from.
Reaching the window at long last I cautiously peered up over the sill and into the room. I sucked in my breath at what I saw. The room was brightly lit in the very center of the room where a stone table stood, but the rest of the room was in deep shadow. A woman I could barely recognize as Treorna was tied stretched out on top of the table.
She was covered in blood and had clearly been tortured for what must have been hours. Having seen many people die painful deaths I could tell that she was near death herself. A dark robed figure stepped out of the shadows surrounding the table. I was disturbed that I hadn't noticed the dark figure until now.
I could hear Treorna gasping for breath as the figure came and leaned slightly over her. From the sound of her breathing I could tell that they had broken some of her ribs. My fingers tensed, as I grasped either side of the window. My intellect was struggling to hold my heart back from accomplishing its desire to wring the life out of anyone that could perform an act of such brutality and heartlessness, as the one I was witnessing.
Gaining some measure of control I cautiously studied the hooded figure standing next to Treorna. I didn't like the menacing aura that seemed to be emanating from him. His presence in the room added a palpable tension to the air that started to make me feel dizzy, as if I was losing control of the moment.
I had felt the feeling once before in the arena many years before. There had been an arena champion from the city of Rauel that had once been the most feared fighter in the entire arena world, by slave and guard alike. He had fought with unimaginable vigor and was utterly ruthless in his approach to killing. It seemed like he thrived both on the pain he caused to his adversaries in the ring and on the adulation he received from the blood thirsty crowds. He would toy with other fighters, as if they were mice and he was the cat offering them no escape other than playful torment. The crowds had adored him.