Not Enough Time

Not Enough Time

                Celebrations. Dytja usually hung around for them, at least when she had actually done something special. This one was not about her per se - although she had, sneakily, put pretty much everything in motion. It had been a tough six years. Still, the 'source of evil' had been closed, and the team of brave heroes responsible were being honoured by the richest and most powerful individuals in the land.

                She was a guest of honour, of course - she had done more than any of the heroes, in fact, if one were to add up all she had done in the past six years. Very well renowned, and many wondered why she had not been involved in the great push. The answer was simple: she had been busy dealing with all possible means of the source being revived.

                None - at least, none of those celebrating the defeat of evil - knew what she had done. Their lack of knowledge was actually part of how she had managed to accomplish her task so easily and in time for the celebration (a few days after the source was closed forever). She was also responsible for swapping the tool used to 'close' the source for one that would utterly destroy it. That was something she hoped no-one would ever figure out. It was a terrible thing she had done - the source contained countless living creatures, not all of whom were evil.

                Still, it was done. Dytja felt uncomfortable about it - she had ventured into the source several years before and tried to defeat the great, foul creature at its heart. It had proved too strong for her, and she had retreated from the monstrous being. That had been the turning point in her plan; after that she had focused on destroying the source entirely.

                The death of tens of thousands of sentients, even though many were twisted beyond being anything but insanely evil, weighed on her. She had killed unfairly many times before to solve the problems of the lands she travelled in, but this was the first time she had killed so many. When within the source she had even met some - they had been good people, though strange in form and manner. They had held back the true might of the angered beast, slaying most of the foul creations that sought to emerge for centuries.

                Sitting at the grand table, merry music playing in celebration and the heroes a few seats up receiving a constant stream of thanks and congratulations became too much for Dytja. She excused herself to her neighbours (a rich trader and several family members of the heroes) and headed for the nearest exit to the gardens.

                The celebration was happening at the palace of the Great Steward, who was the ruler of the city (and revered much like a king, despite the title). It was a grand palace - the hall was huge and had managed to fit several hundred guests; the garden was almost a labyrinth of hedges and small walled courtyards. The garden was an effort of love, Dytja could tell. Each courtyard had either a theme - such as a season, or colour - or had carefully grown plants from other lands, some of which Dytja recognised as coming from quite exceptionally far away.

                About an hour passed as Dytja slowly wandered through the gardens. She enjoyed herself - recognising the origin of each plant in the imported gardens pleased her immensely, and she looked forward to finding out where those she had never seen before originated. When stepping through the opening from one courtyard to the next, she received something quite rare; a shock.

                An unidentifiable voice - obviously obscured in some manner - had suddenly said, "Halt, Dytja!"

                Dytja whirled around, her blade in her hand as fast as a flash of lightning. Standing in the middle of the courtyard she had been leaving was someone in loose clothing, a hat and scarf obscuring their face. Dytja couldn't tell if they were male or female - or much else about them, except that they were likely thin beneath the clothes and long-limbed. On the ground around them was a thin circle of ash, with the odd blue flame flickering out. It was the after effect of a teleportation spell.

                "What do you want?" asked Dytja, levelling her sword at the interrupting mage.

                "I want you dead!" yelled the mage, waving their hand in front of them. Dytja immediately started to move towards the mage but strange spectral chains appeared from nothingness and bound her legs, causing her to topple to the ground.

                Dytja grunted as she slammed into the ground, and rolled over. She slashed at the spectral chains, but they were too fast and too many. A chain managed to pin her sword arm to her body before she could finish her attack, and not long after she was completely bound.

                "Hahaha! The 'great' Dytja defeated!" gloated the mage.

                Dytja struggled against her bonds for a while, then stopped and glared at the mage. "I know this magic," she said. "I hope the cost was worth it."

                "To kill one such as you? I would be willing to pay any cost," said the mage. "I know what you did, two weeks ago. I know what you made those fools do to the source of evil. I know what you found inside there! How could you kill them? Innocents and those who can be redeemed!"

                "Because the 'evil' would have overwhelmed me, and this land, and countless other places before being stopped. I'm capable of making hard choices," replied Dytja.

                The mage postured arrogantly, and said, "Hmph! That is no excuse. You could have tried! It could have been a last resort. And then, then you went on to prevent any undoing of your actions. Truly harmless individuals who would never have managed to re-"

                "You know about them. I didn't think I could take that risk, and I was right," interrupted Dytja.

                "Don't you dare use me to excuse your actions!" hollered the mage. They clenched their fist, and Dytja felt the chains start to tighten around her. She grunted in pain as the pressure increased on her body, even through her armour.

                "Your armour is truly impressive. But it won't save you," gloated the mage, continuing to tighten the chains. Any normal chain would have, by this point, snapped from the forces applied. But these chains were of magic, and capable of truly impossible force.

                "Aaaaaaooow!" groaned Dytja. Shortly after she did so, she felt one of her ribs snap.

                The mage's eyes smiled - they had heard the rib go, despite the dullness of the snap. Dytja figured that it was some property of the magic the mage was using that allowed them to tell. "Tell me, if you can, is your skeleton like that of an ordinary human? Or is it some strange, superior setup? That is how you see yourself, isn't it? Superior?" asked the mage.

                "Don't, care," gasped Dytja. It felt as if several of her other bones were about to give way. She was happy that her armour hadn't snapped (it would be impossible to replace) but she was not impressed by it bending out of shape enough to squeeze her hard enough to crack bone.

                "You are aloof and above us all to the very end. How expected. Time for you to die," said the mage. With a wave of their hand the chains went from steadily to rapidly tightening, seeming to strain with all their magical might against Dytja.

                With a series of horrid snaps, Dytja felt her arms, legs, most of her ribs and her pelvis break. If this gets any worse I'll have to waste one of my damn escape tricks, she thought to herself.

                A short while later, the mage's eyes lost their smile and they swore. "Why aren't you dead!" they exclaimed angrily. Dytja felt the mage changing the shape of the chains, pushing her broken bones around painfully. Yet, despite all the mage's efforts, they could not pull any tighter.

                "I can see that this is still hurting you. I'll just have to keep it up until you die, you monster," the mage said.

                As the chains started to writhe around her, adjusting the shape they attempted to squeeze Dytja into, she silently thanked her lack of pain as ordinary humans felt it. Otherwise... Otherwise she would probably have long since passed out. Actually, that wouldn't be too bad, all things considered, she realised. Drat.

                The mage continued torturing Dytja, slowly wearing her down (or so they hoped). Then, quite suddenly, a male voice said loudly, "What is this?"

                "Shit!" said the mage, whirling around. Behind them stood not one, but three of the heroes who had closed the source of evil. At their front, Bandelm the Brave, a rotund but incredibly strong man who had led the charge. Beside him stood Aillette and Aillesse, the twin warrior sisters who fought alongside him. Strangely enough, they roughly stood in the formation the stories said they battled in; perhaps out of habit.

                "Lady Dytja!" exclaimed Ailesse, as she and Ailette sprung right into action, closing on the mage.

                The mage raised their hand up high and blue flames flared around them, but the swift heroines' blades stabbed true. The mage screamed in pain and their teleportation spell flickered out without effect. In a movement as graceful as their attacks the heroines returned their swords to sheathes and stepped around the dying mage to check on Dytja.

                "Are you alright?" asked Ailette, kneeling beside Dytja. Behind them, Bandelm was jogging over. He was nowhere near as fast as the twins - but his bulk let him serve as a stalwart shield when needed.

                "I'll be fine," said Dytja, "After I heal up, at least. It takes more than that to kill me." She stared past the concerned heroes, looking at the mage. They had already died, and now they would pay the price for their power: their body was slowly dissolving into smoke and ash, consumed by faint blue flames.

                "You're lucky we decided to take a walk," said Bandelm gruffly. "That's some bad magic they were using."

                "How in the world are you still alive?" asked Ailette, shocked after having ascertained the extent of Dytja's injuries. Beside her, Ailesse was similarly bamboozled.

                "Remember - ow - the bit about me not being human?" asked Dytja, forcing a smile through the pain and discomfort. "Uh, I do need a bit of help getting back inside though. Preferably to a bed," she added.

                Ailesse and Ailette smiled. "Sure," they both said at once, which resulted in them chuckling slightly.

                "Anything for the woman who once saved our lives," added Ailesse.