The Whore of Babylon

Chapter 18

Stuck.

The word echoed in Eliana's ears, repeating itself until it was nothing but a deafening thrum filling her mind. Another word began to creep in, growing louder and louder, beating in her head as steady as a drum.

No. No. No, no, NO!

'What is the danger?' Samsu was saying.

'You may have to choose, sir. The life of the mother or the child.'

'The child then,' he answered without hesitation. 'Children take months to grow, but new concubines are easily found. Cut it out of her if you have to; I need an heir.'

'No!' screamed Eliana, leaping to her feet. 'You can't! Not Kisha – no!' She thrashed against the chain, trying to snap it, pull it from the wall, break her collar – anything to get to her sister's bedside.

Samsu gave her a mild look and turned back to the physician, 'but before you do, bring this one a sedative. I cannot abide hysteria.'

'Sir,' the physician bowed and retreated.

'Let me go!' shrieked Eliana in a frenzy. 'I have to go to her. You can't keep me here!'

He chuckled, 'I think you'll find that I can.'

'No!' She fought harder against her restraints. 'She needs me!'

'She needs to deliver my son safe and intact.'

'You heartless bastard! If you ever loved your sister, you'd let me go to mine!'

Samsu raised an eyebrow and gave a nod to the Brute at his guard post. He walked towards Eliana, flexing his fingers. She was too full of fire and desperation to care, pulling against her chain, leaning out to meet him in her anger.

He aimed a vicious blow at her face – she ducked at the last second and he struck only air.

She barely had time to register the surge of triumph before the Brute brought his heavy fist down on the back of her head – with a blinding flash of pain, her knees buckled and she fell onto the cushions. Within seconds the Brute had flipped her onto her back, pinning both her arms with one powerful hand, using the other to steady his balance and kneeling across her legs with a weight so crushing she thought her bones would turn to powder.

Still, she fought; heedless of the pain, she writhed and twisted like a snake, thrashing her head and torso. The Brute bared his teeth and laughed at her.

The physician's owl-face appeared above her, a drinking bowl in his hand, his brow wrinkled in concern. 'Sir, I cannot administer the draught while she moves so much.'

'Sedating a whore should not be a three-man job.' Samsu sighed and slid from his bed. He twisted his hand into the hair at her scalp and held her head immobile, pulling it up a little so that the physician could tip the tincture down her throat.

Keeping her mouth firmly closed, Eliana stared at Samsu, her black eyes burning with a hatred deeper than she would have ever known she could feel. She knew that she was fighting the inevitable, that he would have her sedated one way or another, but every moment the physician was here was another moment of life for Kisha – perhaps giving the baby precious time to right itself and come unassisted into the world.

Samsu rolled his eyes and pinched her nose, preventing her from breathing. She held out for torturous seconds, perhaps half a minute or more, her lungs aflame and screaming for air, before her body betrayed her and her mouth burst open to suck in a quick gasp of air.

The physician moved like lightning, tipping the bitter mixture down her throat the moment her mouth opened so that she inhaled as much of it as she swallowed. It burned and stung – she coughed and spluttered as she tried to clear it from her lungs, fighting to free her hands so that she might sit up and force herself to vomit before the potion could begin its awful work.