Looking down, she realized she couldn’t see herself. She was silent and invisible again, just as she had been before. Maybe I really am dead and this is my funeral. But why would they bury me in a cave? For some reason the thought held no fear, only fascination. Then the echoing footsteps grew louder. Kat pushed her morbid musings aside when she saw who was coming down the tunnel.
A massive male—she couldn’t really call him a man because there was nothing human about him—was leading the way. He had pinkish mottled skin and he was wearing a loincloth of large, flat leaves. In his hand he carried a fiery silver whip that snapped and crackled as though it was made of lightning.
What the hell? The question was driven out of her head when she saw someone familiar following the huge male. Deep was shirtless, his muscular chest gleaming in the light cast by the strange whip. Kat could see the silver light reflected in the black pools of his eyes too, which were otherwise completely impassive.
“So this is the Stone Throat, eh?” he said to the giant who only grunted noncommittally. “I’ve heard of this place. Never thought I’d see it in person. Not that there’s much to see.”
The enormous male didn’t even grunt this time. He just passed through the stone hallway, ducking his head to avoid hitting the ceiling where Kat was still hovering in her invisible form.
For some reason, she felt a stab of fear. What’s going on? What are they going to do? Without making a conscious decision to do it, she found herself gliding noiselessly after them down the stone corridor until they came to a thick green wooden door. Deep’s guide grasped the tarnished silver ring in its center and pulled it open easily though it looked immensely heavy to Kat.
The door swung to one side revealing a vast, round room made of the same brownish-pink stone as the corridor. The ceiling curved up but instead of forming a perfect arch, it elongated into a tall stone chimney far above. From that small opening, a perfectly round spot of sunlight streamed down to rest on the floor at the exact center of the room. It illuminated a rough obelisk of white stone streaked with reddish-brown mineral deposits.
The obelisk was at least ten feet tall and it pointed up toward the chimney like a jagged, accusing finger. Kat saw that someone had affixed two thick, rusty rings in its center. A feeling of cold dread filled her when she saw the thick chain running through the rings. What went on in this room? Why would anyone need to be chained to the strange white obelisk? She was horribly afraid but she didn’t want to let herself acknowledge it.
“Will you be chained or will you stand?” The huge male’s voice was high and almost effeminate but it echoed eerily in the vast chamber.
“I’ll stand.” Deep went to the obelisk without hesitation. Facing it, he gripped one of the rusty rings in each hand. His broad, muscular back presented the perfect target. “I’m ready.”
Ready for what? Oh dear God, please no! Kat didn’t particularly like Deep—in fact, she thought he was kind of a jerk. He made her more uncomfortable than anyone else she’d ever met in her life. But no one deserved to be whipped with that hissing, crackling silver whip. There were freaking spikes on the end of it, for God’s sake. Was it some kind of punishment Deep was about to be subjected to? But what had he done? And who had decided he had to be punished?
“Ready yourself,” the other male advised, raising the whip.
“I said I was ready.” Deep’s voice held not a trace of fear—only irritation.
How can he not be afraid? What’s wrong with him?
Kat watched in horror as the massive arm rose and the whip cracked, lashing around Deep’s ribs with a hungry hiss. Deep made a similar sound himself—a low hiss of pain—as the barbed silver tongues bit into his flesh, but no other noise escaped him.
The giant yanked the whip back, splattering crimson droplets against the white obelisk. Suddenly Kat understood that the brownish red streaks on its rough surface weren’t mineral deposits. Blood, my God, it’s blood! He’s bleeding! Stop it—stop!
But the whip rose again, ready for another blow. “Scream,” the huge torturer advised. “Release your pain into the Throat.” He nodded at the stone chimney above. “It will make the agony less.”
“Don’t want it to be less,” Deep growled. “Just get on with it, damn you.”
“As you wish.” The whip cracked again, biting and tearing the smooth, tan skin of Deep’s back, shredding it to bloody ribbons. He barely flinched.
No! Nooo! Kat tried to shriek but no sound came out. Deep didn’t cry out either. He stood at the obelisk, grasping the rusty rings in a white-knuckled grip, his jaw clenched and his eyes shut tight. Clearly he was enduring unspeakable agony and just as clearly he was determined not to make a sound.