Chapter 54
Was It Good for You Too
Ezra woke gently, feeling better than he could ever remember feeling. He glanced around. It was still dark? Oh, he was in a cave. So that was a rock digging into his back. In fact, now that he thought about it, his body was awash with aches and pains, so why did he feel so–
Gal stirred pleasantly beside him. “Mmm, you really are just so warm...” She yawned and stretched, body shifting sinuously. “A girl could get used to this.” Oh, he thought in a happy haze, that's why.
She sighed and snuggled closer for a few moments, then slapped his chest lightly and rolled away. “Come on, get dressed,” she said, clothes rustling in the darkness. “We should make a token appearance before they start really laying into him.”
His eyes flew open as the events of earlier in the day came back to him. “Oh,” he gasped, looking around for his pants. “Was it okay that we... um...”
“Well,” Gal's voice was muffled as she pulled a shirt over her head. “You could use a little practice, but we can work on that later.”
Ezra blushed furiously, dropping his shoe and knocking his head against the rock wall as he tripped over his own foot. Gal laughed richly. He could make out the shadow of her hips swaying as she started back toward the others. “Come on, Ezzy, let's get back to the real world.”
Ezra felt a brief chill go down his spine, and peered back into the darkness further on in the tunnel. Not seeing anything, he shook his head and followed after Gal's echoing laughter.
==
“And what have you two been doing?” Sebastian asked, waggling his eyebrows as Gal and Ezra rejoined the group. “Aside from dodging your turns on watch.”
“I was showing Ezra how a woman claims what she wants,” Gal replied lightly.
Ezra blushed and mumbled something incoherent. Mat laughed and clapped him on the back as Sarah rolled her eyes. Sebastian smiled, then turned his gaze to the elementalist still chained to the floor. “'Bout time we woke him up. Hope you're not too tired, Doe.”
“Oh, I'm always up for more,” Gal stared at Ezra, licking her lips. He blushed harder, grabbing a canteen from Mat and quickly taking a drink.
Mat chuckled as he took the canteen back, then casually walked over and dumped the contents on the thunder-struck's head. The man woke up with a sputter, looking around blearily. Mat tossed the water container aside and cracked his knuckles. “What's your name, sparky?”
“What? Where... where am...”
Mat kicked him in the stomach, eyes hard. “I asked for your name.”
Low, broken laughter wheezed from the Son of Lightning. “That's right,” he coughed. “Now I remember.” Electricity formed a halo around his head as the man suddenly pulled against his restraints. He screamed and went stiff, the water and metal conducting the lightning right back into him. He fell to his side, panting, his body steaming from where he lay, half submerged in the little pool. Mat looked on with an air of calm as Sarah handed him a fresh canteen, which he proceeded to dispassionately empty on the thunder-struck.
“Now listen, sparky,” Mat said as he squatted down, still pouring water over the Son's head. “This doesn't have to be hard. You tell us what we want to know, and we'll leave you here. Maybe someone comes to get you, maybe someone doesn't. It's a better deal than you'll get if we stick around.” He let the canteen fall straight onto the other man's face, sending it bouncing and rolling away. “So, what's your name?”
The thunder-struck wheezed out a weak laugh, “And I will be delivered from mine enemies, and see them cast down into the pit, that all may know the glory of–”
“Suit yourself.” Mat grabbed the captive's head and slammed it against the stone floor, then stood and began kicking him.
Sebastion and Sarah rushed forward and grabbed his arms, pulling him back before he could land a third blow. “They were my friends you bastard!” Mat yelled. Gal jumped forward, thrusting her hands against his chest, glaring at him.
“Whoa, hey!” Ezra glanced down at the Son of Lightning, who was lying on his side, trying to curl into a ball, still laughing hoarsely.
“I'm cool,” Mat said, shrugging his shoulders and taking a few steps back. “It's just... bad things happen.” He paced over to a wall and punched it. “Bad things happen,” he whispered to himself, haunted eyes glued to the wall.
Ezra eyed him warily, then turned to the thunder-struck. “Listen, we need to know: how did you know that we'd be here? Who told you?”
The Son of Lightning made his way painfully back to his knees, and gave Ezra a mad grin. “The Voice of Thunder hears all,” he rasped. “You cannot stand against us. Lightning speaks, giving us the words you send through air. He bids us, His chosen, to hunt the blasphemers to the ends of the earth.”
Ezra looked around, worried. “You're intercepting our communications?”
“You, who would dare to use the gifts of Lightning from the seat of His very throne.” The elementalist's voice grew stronger as he spoke. “Your time is short upon this world. Lightning has made known His will, that those who would sin against Him and corrupt His gifts shall fall beneath His hand. Repent and be judged! Let the purifying will of the heavens burn away your unworthiness, that you too might know the majesty of the Great One!”
This was fast devolving into a sermon. Ezra sighed and shook his head. “What about whatever the other guy in town was talking about? The end of the Forbidden City or something?”
A maniacal gleam shone through the Son's eyes, his pupils dilating. “The great work of the Children. Even as we bring down your warriors in the field, the way is prepared by our Father. We know of your doors in the air. We know of your lifeless beasts of burden and your perverted mockeries of the chosen that spit fire and lightning and earth.” His grin grew, nothing but teeth, as his eyes burned with an insane intensity. “And most of all, we know of your castle in the sky. We shall reach our hands up unto the heavens and bind it to the will of our Lord.”
“And we shall bring it down upon your heads.”