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Four
Lena lifted her eyes as a flame approached through the darkness. A figure, holding a lantern.
For two days, the Amazon had hung from chains in the middle of the dungeon. Her arms had no strength at all, her hands curled and gray above the fetters, her beautiful face weary. But she hid all signs of suffering as the light of the lantern touched her.
It was Captain Arkan, and, after a moment’s hesitation, he sank to his knees before the Amazon.
"Forgive me," he said simply. "I did not want them to do this to you."
For a long time, Lena was silent. Arkan wonderd if she hung unconscious, at last beaten by the day’s torture. But, finally, her voice came, hoarse with thirst and fatigue, but as low and gentle as always. "They are afraid of me. Of course they wish to hurt me."
Arkan’s eyes lifted. "You are a beautiful and dignified woman. You do not deserve to be treated like this."
"Thank you."
"But you must confess what you know. Roth is a cruel man, and he will not stop until you give in."
"Then he will grow old frustrated," Lena said wearily. "At home, my sisters test each other with tortures worse than any I have felt so far. Our ability to endure pain, to feed from it, makes us stronger warriors. Roth will not succeed."
"Then I wish you strength." Arkan stood, and regarded the naked, drawn woman hanging in chains before him, her radiance reduced but not erased, the superb musculature of her body gleaming in the orange torchlight. Arkan saluted smartly, and left.
Hours later, the inquisitors returned to the dungeon. Lena did not stir as they neared, her magnificent body truly exhausted by her long ordeal. For a long time, Roth regarded her, then motioned to a guard.
"Lower her."
They released the brake of the winch, and Lena dropped to the floor. Her tortured feet would not support her, and she fell, her weakened arms still cuffed before her. She lay, unresisting, as two guards unlocked the shackles, and, with the torturer’s help, hoisted her up. Between them, they dragged her to a dark corner of the dungeon, where her barely-focusing eyes recognised a massive wooden construction, at each end a huge roller wound with ropes.
"Put her on," Roth commanded.
Lena did not fight as she was laid on the rack. They took her arms, first, stretching them over her head and binding her wrists securely to the roller. Then her ankles, placed widely apart and lashed with thick ropes to the second roller. She lay, naked and exposed. Her breasts rose and fell slowly.
"This is your last chance," Roth said. "Tell me when your sisters next mean to attack, or we will truly make you suffer."
Lena’s eyes opened, her head slowly turned to Roth. "Go to Hell," she said.
"Rack her!"
The torturer and a guard took up positions on opposite sides of the roller at her fingertips, and began to turn the wheels. The ratchet clicked over, the ropes dragged on Lena’s wrists, taking up the slack in ropes and body. Her ankle ropes drew taut. A second turn, and the machine groaned and creaked, a third turn putting the first hint of tension into the Amazon’s body.
As the men prepared to turn the roller again, Lena grasped the ropes, and tensed her mighty muscles. This time, the roller did not turn. The ropes creaked, the axle gave a long groan, and the two men fought with the wheels.
"You shall not win!" Lena hissed through her teeth. Her formidable muscles were in incredible definition, her abdomen stark, her whole body shining. There was triumph in her eyes. "Now, let me go!"
But Roth had otherplans. "Assist them!" he ordered two more of the guards. They went to the roller at her feet; now, four men operated the rack. Lena’s face registered an instant of panic, but she could not out-pull four men, and the rollers cranked over. Her fingertips were dragged another half-inch from her toes. Still she fought, but was stretched another half-inch. As the tension in her limbs grew, she lost her leverage, and she realised that the machine was winning. Their task done, the assisting guards stood aside.
Two more notches: the Amazon was stretched, her ribcage lifted, her breasts rising towards the ceiling, her limbs visibly lengthening. She began to look afraid. The squealing ropes dragged another inch from her body, and she gave a gasp
"Now," said Roth, standing over the taut woman. "Ready to talk?"
"Never," Lena spat. How bad can it be, she thought.
Roth nodded, and the two men at the rack’s head turned the wheels again. Lena stretched, her spine lengthening noisily. Her joints were coming under considerable strain. Two more notches, and the sweat began to cluster in droplets all over the Amazon’s taut body, growing discomfort apparent on her face. No other torture had used her own muscles against her in this way.
With the next notch, Lena gave an involuntary groan, her body already nearing its limit, the tension fierce. She had long since ceased fighting the rack, instead lay helpless to the gradual stretching. Roth smiled, knowing that he had found the key to breaking her.
Another notch, and the Amazon let out a short gasp. Her face showed the strain. The ropes were shaking with the tension, hundreds of pounds of force on her drawn body.
"Not so proud now, are we?" Roth gloated. "Get out of this, wench!"
"Stop," Lena gasped, her eyes wide with fear.
"Not until you confess," Roth said.
"I cannot."
So the roller turned again, and the Amazon’s limbs were wrenched another half inch. This time, she gave a cry - "oh!" - that echoed through the dungeon’s cavernous depths. Tears of humiliation and pain squeezed from her eyes.
"Again!" Roth commanded.
They tightened the rack, and Lena’s mouth flew wide at the sound of rending muscles, loosening ligaments. The sweat was clustered about her face. The pain was overwhelming, it seemed to burn every nerve in her body, savage agony in her shoulders and hips, along her limbs, along her spine. She could barely breathe, it hurt so much.
"Again," Roth said.
"No!" Lena begged, but they forced the roller, and her plea dissolved into a long cry of pain, the first they had heard her utter. Roth rubbed his hands in delight.
"More!" He shouted. "Stretch her more!"
Again, they tightened the rack, and Lena screamed in pain. Her muscles were stark in definition, her ribcage extended, the tendons in her armpits and groin like thick cables, fiercely tight, her brown skin shining with sweat. Another notch, and Lena threw her head back, giving a long howl of agony that lasted half a minute, finally trailing into high-pitched whimpering, her breathing shallow.
"Now she knows suffering. Leave her: we will return."
"No!" Lena shrieked in pain and terror. "Don’t leave me like this! Don’t!"
But they left her. Alone, she cried out to her sisters, bathed in sweat, confused by the pain that so overwhelmed her. Her body had never been defeated like this, she had thought there was nothing she could not endure: but this, the savage, burning pain in her shoulders and hips, the red-hot agony of wrenched muscles all along her arms and legs, down her sides, along her spine, was excruciating.
And it grew worse.
In reaction to the damage and strain, her muscles now tried to tighten and contract, putting more strain than ever on her tendons. The pain flared and spread like some awful fire, causing her to cry out in her solitude. For two hours, she lay in ever-growing pain, uttering prayers that she might faint, that the ropes might break, that something, anything, could relieve the pain. Gradually, as the agony took its toll, her eyes lost their focus, her mind swimming dazedly in a sea of torment.
Finally, the inquisitors returned, the torturer and guard taking their positions at the wheel once more.
"Well?" Roth regarded the Amazon’s suffering face with pleasure. "Ready to talk?"
"It hurts so," Lena wept, "but I cannot betray my sisters."
"Stretch her again."
The roller turned, dragging another half inch from the wretched woman, and this time it hurt a thousand times more than before. She gave a long scream of agony. With a loud crack! her left shoulder suddenly dislocated, followed half a minute later by her right. The pain tore fresh screams from her, and she lost control of her bladder, a warm puddle spreading across the rack.
"Talk," Roth urged. "Talk, and the pain will stop!"
"I can’t! I can’t!" Lena shrieked through her pain.
They tightened her a little more, and she screamed as her left hip, then her right, popped out of joint. Now, all four limbs were dislocated, her tendons beginning to tear, and the pain was maddening. She shook her head, shrieking, her body running with sweat.
"Again," Roth said.
They forced the wheel around, wrenching another half-inch from the Amazon, and her screams became terrible as the ligaments in her elbows and knees began to separate. She was helpless to the pain.
"Will you talk?" Roth demanded.
"Yes! Yes! Anything you want, just stop the pain, stop it!" Lena pleaded.
"When is the attack?"
"The next new moon," Lena cried. "We planned to strike on the next new moon!"
Roth straightened. "We have almost a month, then! That wasn’t so bad, was it?" To the torturer: "keep stretching her, teach her a lesson she will never forget."
"No-o-o!!" Lena bellowed in terror, but her plea became another long scream as the roller turned, and her elbows began to separate. Groans and creaks came from her stretching spine, accompanied by the awful sound of her abdominal muscles tearing.
They stretched her for an hour longer, until she fainted from the pain.
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