The Mage's Heart
The white-haired woman pulled a contraption from her robes, like the bridle of a horse.
“What is that?” I recoiled.
The mage with the melodious voice stepped forward and grabbed my face by the jaw, holding me still. I tried to pull away. The contraption had a metal bar with sharp looking spikes and a framework of leather straps.
“Hold her,” the woman ordered the men as I screamed and struggled against them. The half-ogre roared in response, and for a moment, fought his way free of his guards. “Ianaceo,” she growled out at the ogre with the bitter bite of magic, and the ogre fell flat onto the floor, though he continued to growl and groan, he could not move. “Don’t make me do the same to you,
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