Beast of Zarall Page 24

  Ink’s explanation affected Lygor. The prince crossed his arms, his gaze flickering between Ink and the freeborn. His anger seemed to be fading now. Valnar was shaking his head, still sullen, but quiet.

  “Did you...?” Lygor asked.

  “Of course not!” Ink said.

  Lygor threaded his fingers through his hair and sighed. “What did you name him?”

  “I didn’t name him. His name was Jessur.”

  “They lose their names when they’re enslaved, you know that, right?” Valnar asked.

  “Well, I’m his Owner and I’m giving it back to him.”

  “Valnar,” Lygor said. “Go to the horse breeder and get us a mule and a cart.”

  Valnar took a deep breath. He considered arguing, but decided against it, knowing Lygor was going to do as he pleased anyway. His shoulders sagged with defeat. “Yes, Lodi,” he gritted his teeth and walked out quietly.

  Lygor took a step towards the freeborn. “Is it true?” he asked. “That you’re loyal to House Zarall?”

  “I... I serve to please, and... and I live to serve my master... owner.”

  Beast rolled his eyes. It was obvious the man was very new to slavery. He doubted if he’d spent more than a couple weeks at a slave farm.

  “Beast,” Lygor said. “Take Jessur back to the stable. Then get our animals ready.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  Beast hooked his elbow under the freeborn’s left arm and pulled him up to his feet. Lygor and Ink remained quiet until the door closed behind the two slaves. Low tones of a suppressed argument were starting by the time they got to the stairs at the end of the hallway.

  29

  OLIRA

  “You need to eat, ma’am,” the younger of the two squires said. Olira had heard his name was Norrol. He seemed a little older than Torren, but younger than Gilann.

  Both were gone now.

  Olira tilted her head down. She wasn’t hurting anymore. She hardly felt anything. She closed her eyes and wished she would never have to open them.

  “Mistress Olira, you haven’t eaten anything in three days,” the boy insisted shyly. “It’s not as awful as it looks. Please, just take a bite.”

  Olira glanced at the boy - just a child - then she glanced at the men around the camp. A third of them would be around Gilann’s age. They all did their best to avoid Olira, except when they were tasked to guard her. Even then, they would stay back and ignore her. Her two guards were standing behind her right now, eyeing her from a distance, but otherwise ignoring her.

  It was early morning hours; half the camp was still asleep. The other half were busy preparing breakfast or saddling the horses for another day of riding. Olira had heard that the latest tracks the scouts had found were quite fresh.

  They were closing in on Master Lodi and others. They had stopped for the night, a few hours from a small town where the tracks were headed. Lieutenant Quinner and a couple of men had dressed in plain clothes and went to the town to ask around. They hadn’t returned yet.

  “Mistress Olira?”

  Olira’s eyes had lost their focus. She forced herself to look at the young boy. “Were you there?”

  “Excuse me, ma’am?”

  “Were you there when he burnt my farm?”

  Norrol’s shoulders sagged and he seemed younger than his age. “Umm, yes, ma’am.”

  “Did he really kill my brothers?”

  Blood rushed to Norrol’s cheeks. He couldn’t maintain his eye contact. He opened his mouth, closed, licked his lips. “I’m... I’m sorry, Mistress Olira. Your brothers...”

  “That’s enough, Norrol!”

  Prince Dienus’s personal guardian, Sir Gennald strode in. He was a quiet man, who didn’t smile much. He towered over Norrol, whose face had turned to ash.

  “You shouldn’t be talking to the prisoner.”

  “I was just trying to convince her to eat, Sir Gennald.”

  “If the prisoner chooses to starve, she can starve.”

  “But, Sir...”

  “Go and help Master Emberlash with the Prince’s breakfast.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Despite Sir Gennald, Norrol shot Olira an apologetic look before heading to find Master Emberlash.

  Sir Gennald glanced at Olira. Nodding at the two guards, “I’ll take over,” he said.

  The guards looked at each other hesitantly. One of them seemed like he was going to argue. Sir Gennald simply stared at him until the man thought better of it. They left Olira alone with Sir Gennald.

  “I won’t eat,” Olira announced flatly.

  “Suit yourself,” Sir Gennald grunted. He didn’t say anything else. After studying the busy campsite for a moment and making sure everyone minded their own business, Sir Gennald grabbed Olira’s arm and walked her off the campsite.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  Sir Gennald remained silent for a long time. Just as Olira started to believe the man wasn’t going to answer, he mumbled: “Just do as he says.”

  When Olira saw Prince Dienus waiting near a cluster of trees a few minutes off the campsite, for the first time in days, she felt something other than grief and pain. She had caught the man staring at her many times; his expression reminding her of a starving man, craving for something other than food. He would flash a smile that was far from friendly when Olira caught him.

  Once, he had come over, leaned in and examined Olira’s eyes with an odd curiosity. Olira would have felt terrified, if she could feel anything. Dienus had put his hand on the side of Olira’s neck and caressed gently with his thumb. If Lieutenant Quinner hadn’t intervened, Olira didn’t know what the prince would do next.

  Despite her state of mind, Olira still saw and heard enough to understand Lieutenant was their leader, and he was the reason the prince didn’t act on his interest with her.

  Except now, Lieutenant Quinner wasn’t around.

  “Did you have a good night’s sleep, Mistress Olira?” Dienus grinned at her. His green eyes were burning with excitement. He took over from Sir Gennald and led her further into the woods.

  “What are you gonna do to me?” Olira asked. Her voice was no more than a hoarse whisper. Deep down, she suspected the prince’s intention and although she was nervous, deep down, she didn’t care.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful,” Dienus said cheerfully. He looked around like a child afraid of getting caught stealing a pie. He pulled Olira down on her knees, then pushed her on her back.

  Olira couldn’t hold back a weak sob. Sir Gennald stopped twenty feet away and turned his back on them. Nobody was going to help her, but it was fine. She deserved it.

  She’d fallen to greed and sold a man’s life, despite knowing he was not a mindless shell, and that he had a rhoa. As punishment, she’d lost her own life; everything that was dear to her. Her sweet brothers...

  A teardrop slid down her cheek. She deserved the worst.

  Dienus straddled her chest, pinning her arms against her sides. He wiped her cheek with the back of his fingers. He leaned in and watched her eyes while caressing her face. “Are you afraid, Mistress Olira?”

  “No,” she said and her voice didn’t tremble. “I don’t care.”

  Dienus chuckled. His fingers crawled down to her neck. “We’ll see about that.” He straightened up, wrapped his hands around her neck firmly. He locked his elbows straight and paused briefly to savour the moment.

  “Do me a favour and don’t close your eyes,” he whispered.

  Olira willed herself to stay still. She didn’t care if she lived or died. She truly didn’t care. She deserved it.

  Dienus’s hands tightened around Olira’s neck, cutting her air off. Her heart raced. Dienus put his whole weight on her neck and soon, her lungs started burning.

  The prince’s face was twisted with hunger and lust. She wanted to close her eyes, but she couldn’t stop looking at those sadistic green eyes. Fear climbed up, invaded her mind, and her primal instincts broke free.

  She sta
rted to struggle.

  Dienus smirked. “There you are.” He held her down until black stains started floating in front of Olira’s eyes, then, he released her neck.

  Olira gasped loudly. She sucked a deep breath in and coughed. Her vision was still cluttered with black smudges, but it was clearing slowly.

  She was wrong. She didn’t want to die.

  Dienus leaned back, shaking his arms and massaging his hands. He watched her reaction with satisfaction.

  “You’re sick,” Olira croaked. Talking hurt her throat.

  The prince simply smiled. He grabbed her neck and started strangling again.

  “No, no...” Olira struggled, twisted, tried to free her arms. She glanced up in Sir Gennald’s direction. She couldn’t see the man, though she knew he was there. “Help! Help me...”

  This time, her vision darkened quicker. Her fight and her protests consumed the little air left in her lungs. She wanted to live. She wanted air. Her ears were ringing. Her limbs were feeling heavy.

  Dienus’s twisted face loomed over her.

  She remembered how the slave’s face changed when he was killing those bandits at the ambush. She’d thought he looked like a monster. She was wrong. Again. The real monsters didn’t wear chains.

  As the dark stains invaded her sight, she believed the last thing she was going to see was Prince Dienus’s sick, green eyes. She hoped her rhoa could find its way to Farhome and find her brothers waiting there.

  She slipped into a cold darkness.

  30

  DIENUS

  “Prince Dienus!”

  Lieutenant Quinner was furious.

  If Sir Gennald hadn’t been blocking his way, he would have charged at Dienus and dragged him off the girl as if the prince was a drunkard at a tavern. Half a dozen of his men stood behind him, watching the argument in horror.

  “Calm down, Lieutenant,” Dienus said coldly. He released Olira’s neck, and after a terrifying silence, she started coughing.

  “Olira Aryanna is the Queen’s prisoner!” barked Quinner.

  “Watch your tone, Lieutenant,” Gennald said calmly. “You’re talking to your prince.”

  Quinner’s face turned to a bright red. He looked at Sir Gennald as if considering taking him down to get to the prince. Dienus chuckled. It would have been interesting to see who would come out of that fight. Dienus would put his money on Sir Gennald, only he wasn’t sure if the other soldiers would stay put or get involved. And whose side would they be on?

  Dienus stood up. “Calm down, Lieutenant.” He pulled Olira up on her feet. When she stumbled, Dienus wrapped his arm around her and felt she was trembling. Her face was still purple, but its colour was slowly returning. Her neck was bruised, and she couldn’t stop coughing.

  “I was just interrogating the prisoner to make sure she wasn’t holding back any information from us.” Dienus walked over to Quinner and pushed the girl into the man’s arms.

  Quinner handed her over to one of his men. “Escort the prisoner back to camp.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  After the soldier took Olira away, Quinner glared daggers at Dienus for nearly a minute. Dienus crossed his arms over his chest, a daring smirk on his face, and returned Quinner’s gaze. He yawned.

  “So, Lieutenant, did you hear anything useful from the town?”

  Quinner was still dressed in plain clothes. He must have just returned from the town. He maintained his glare for another ten seconds, then inhaled through his nose. He regained his composure, and when he spoke again, his tone was more respectful.

  “Good news, Your Highness. You do not need to interrogate the prisoner anymore.”

  “Excellent!”

  “The town was talking about a purebred beast who fought at an underground arena last night. They’ve just left the town this morning. We’ve got them.”

  “Great news, Lieutenant. Well done.”

  “We’re leaving now.”

  Quinner turned his back to leave. He stopped when Dienus sucked his teeth loudly.

  “Yeah, I’m afraid I’m not coming, Lieutenant.”

  Quinner rolled his eyes and drew a calming breath. “And why is that, Your Highness?”

  Dienus ignored the question and smiled confidently. “I prefer sitting this one out. I’ll wait at the camp.”

  “You’ll...” Quinner rubbed at his temples as if he was getting a headache. “We’ve found Lion of Zarall and you want to wait at the camp? Your Highness?”

  “That’s right, Lieutenant.”

  “I’m going to ask you to come with us, Your Highness.”

  Dienus’s smile spread. “You can’t, Lieutenant. My mother, the Queen, only authorized you to capture the slave and be discrete. You can’t give me orders, unless they are directly related to your mission. If I choose to stay at the camp, this will neither affect the outcome of your arrest, nor attract unwanted attention from the locals.” He shrugged. “I’m not an exceptional swordsman, after all. To be honest, I’d probably just stay on the side and watch.”

  Quinner gritted his teeth. “Is this about the prisoner?”

  Dienus scoffed. “Take the prisoner with you for all I care.”

  “I don’t understand your intention, Your Highness,” Quinner sneered. “You don’t want to be there when we capture Lion of Zarall?”

  “That’s right, Lieutenant.”

  Quinner scowled at him for a lifetime. He searched Dienus’s face for a clue about his intentions. When he found it, his face hardened. “I can’t leave you unprotected in this region.”

  Dienus swatted a hand. “Oh, no, please, take as many men as you need with you. I have Sir Gennald. And my squires too; they’ve just learned which end of the sword is pointy.”

  “Your Highness,” Quinner said, his tone begging for reason. “A couple hours ago, I listened to a man describing how Lion of Zarall killed three armed men with his bare hands, and chewed their faces off. If I divide my force...”

  “Oh, no, no, please,” Dienus interrupted. “You don’t have to leave any number of your men to protect me. Besides, he is a purebred, and I can write down his Words for you.”

  “Queen Inoeveth already gave them...”

  “Excellent! No problem, then. If I happen to wander off from the campsite and get sighted by Zarall sympathizing Northerners... Well, I’m sure nobody will blame you for it.”

  “We both know the Queen would hide my skin if I leave you unprotected...”

  Dienus pressed his palms together in front of his chest. “Please, Lieutenant. You have my blessing to take as many men as you need with you. I promise, I’ll stay safe.”

  Quinner glared at Dienus, seething. Without saying another word, he turned and walked off. Sir Gennald stood at Dienus’s side.

  “We are very close to capturing Lion of Zarall, Your Highness. Are you sure you want to set him up for failure?”

  Dienus’s smile faded. His gaze drilled Quinner’s broad back as the Lieutenant stormed off. “He annoys me,” Dienus muttered.

  Sir Gennald raised an eyebrow. “If he survives, he’ll tell about how you tried to sabotage the mission to the Queen.”

  Dienus considered Lieutenant’s odds of survival for a moment. He shrugged.

  “Meh.”

  31

  BEAST

  Jessur was wary of Beast.

  No. Wary wouldn’t suffice to explain how the freeborn really felt about the purebred. On a scale from ‘cautious’ to ‘petrified’, Jessur would be sitting somewhere around ‘Sweating like a pig, wishing he was invisible’.

  The cart was flowing swiftly on the dirt road. Valnar had picked a strong mule and a smaller cart to maximize their speed. Him and Ink were trotting their horses on both sides of the cart. Valnar was wearing his heavy breastplate, bracers, and greaves. He was carrying his long sword on the saddle and the two-handed sword on his back, but he’d left his shield, helmet, and short sword on the cart. Ink had his leather armour on. His short bow hung on one side of the sad
dle and his quiver on the other. Lygor’s horse was hitched behind Valnar’s. The prince of Chinderia was sitting on the driver’s seat of the cart, the mule’s reins tight between his hands.

  Beast pulled one of the ration bags behind him and leaned his back against it. All the saddlebags that had burdened their horses before were neatly piled at the back of the cart. There was still plenty of room left for the two slaves to sit across from each other.

  Jessur had pulled his knees under his chin; his bandaged right arm resting at his side. Every time he glanced at Beast, the colour on his face faded a tone. He must have watched Beast fight in the cage the other night. However, Beast’s demonstration of cruelty wasn’t the only reason why the freeborn was so uncomfortable sharing a space with him.

  Beast was staring at him intently.

  There was a time Beast regarded freeborns with contempt. Their obsession with freedom and their lack of training had annoyed him. They would make eye contact with their Owners, or talk without permission, as if they still had the rights of free men. Both were Acts of Defiance.

  Both were things Beast did without any discomfort now.

  He found the freeborn interesting. There was nothing special about Jessur’s dull brown hair, narrow face, and sunburned skin. He was as big as Beast or Valnar, though his muscles were shrunken, malnourished. His tattoo was bright black, so new. Even the skin under the ink was still scabby.

  Beast was fascinated thinking that the slave sitting across from him was a free man only a few months ago. He wanted to ask him what freedom was like. He couldn’t ask that to Lygor or Ink, and certainly not to Valnar. Those three wouldn’t know. How could anyone appreciate something they’ve never lost? Beast wanted to hear what freedom felt like, from a man who had spent time under chains.

  Beast tilted his head. A troubling thought clouded his face. What if Beast won his freedom, and then lost it again, like Jessur did. He gritted his teeth. No, he wasn’t going to let anyone take his freedom away. He would kill himself sooner than let that happen.