Vendel Rising Omnibus

by L A Warren

  The memory of a hot breath and a trail of fire flashed through her mind. Gregor had introduced himself exactly as these men did. This ritual had to be important. Was this unique to vlor’ and s’vlor, or was it just the way a Vendel man greeted any woman?

  “S’vlor, listen up.” High Tender vlor’Martun continued his instructions once introductions were complete. “Your vlor’lord will place three items on the table in front of you.”

  The room filled with rustling noises as the men removed these items from their jacket pockets. A small tray, not much larger than a hand, was put on the table. They filled the tray with a vial of water. A red, fist-sized ball went to the left of the tray, and a rosebud was placed to the right.

  What these items had to do with the WOR-skill remained a mystery. Silence filled the room, as Elise was certain all the women had to be thinking exactly the same thing.

  “Now,” began High Tender vlor’Martun, “we begin with a meditation. The WOR-skill is a set of abilities accessed only after you have firm control of your innermost thoughts. You must learn to calm yourself and seek the peace within. Your vlor’lord will guide you in this. Place your right hand in the tray of water, palm down, and put your left hand on the tabletop beside the rose, palm up.”

  The women did as they were instructed, while Elise watched from the edge of the room.

  “Feel your vlor’lord’s touch as he places his hand in yours.” Some of the girls jumped when this happened. The Tenders made notes on the gel-flimsies they carried. Others didn’t move at all. Sarah, who sat at the end of the table right in front of Elise, lifted her fingers to lightly stroke the wrist of her vlor’lord.

  “Listen to his words as he directs you through the exercise.”

  The vlor’lords leaned forward and spoke to their assigned s’vlor. The girls closed their eyes and the low hum of deep voices filled the room. Elise strained to hear what the vlor’lords whispered, but couldn’t make out individual words.

  High Tender Marcus entered the room. She knew, not because she saw him, but because all of the High Tenders stiffened and bowed as one. He held the braklav and twirled it absently. With a jerk of his chin, he motioned for her to join him. She eyed the braklav with concern and stepped quickly to his side.

  Once outside, she greeted him as was expected. “Good afternoon, High Tender Marcus.” She said it with a smile, although her teeth clenched.

  “Good afternoon, 10-2.” He guided her past the other four, much larger classrooms and toward the far end of the Confinement Deck. Passing by the open doorways, similar scenes occurred inside. Long rows of women and men sat across tables with red roses, balls, and trays of water.

  High Tender Marcus took her down the exercise fields and headed toward a long row of much smaller rooms at the far end of the Confinement Deck. She’d never been allowed back here before. He ushered her inside one of the tiny rooms where Gregor paced beside a square table with three empty chairs. On top of the table were three items: a red ball, a rosebud and a tray half full of water. His lips twisted in that smirk she’d come to know so well.

  “Opés, it is good to see you. Come, we have an exciting day.” His eyes danced with excitement in the bright light of the room.

  Her gaze shifted between Gregor and the High Tender. She didn’t like being caught between these two men. Nothing good ever came out of it.

  “Good afternoon, Gregor.” She kissed him on the cheek, avoiding a more amorous lip-locked entanglement in front of the High Tender who wouldn’t have approved.

  Gregor settled her in a seat and sat beside her.

  The High Tender took the third chair across from her, his mouth twisting at the slight display of affection.

  Gregor’s imperial tattoo danced beneath the skin of his brow, restless and eager. “Do you have any questions?” Glittering steel flashed in the reflection of his gaze.

  Was this another of his concessions? One of his bridge building exercises? It was hard to tell. They’d been getting along when alone, but she remembered the High Tender didn’t like Gregor coddling her by answering questions. Her gaze shifted to High Tender Marcus as uncertainty built within her.

  “Opés,” Gregor said gently pulling her attention back with the gentleness of his voice. “What would you like to ask?”

  She glanced again at the High Tender, her head moving on a swivel, back and forth, between the two men.

  Gregor noticed the direction of her gaze and frowned.

  She didn’t know how to act around the High Tender. If it had been just Gregor she would have been more at ease.

  She directed her next words to the High Tender. “I don’t want to play games today. Maybe we can just do whatever the exercise is?”

  Gregor crossed his arms. His gaze flicked between High Tender Marcus and the odd assortment of items. Silence stretched between them, filling the room with an oppressive weight. No one said a word.

  She certainly wasn’t going to fill the suffocating gap. The thudding in her chest pounded loud enough with a restless rhythm, a loud drum beat filling the awkward pause with dissonance.

  “I am surprised you are so eager to begin.” Gregor placed his elbows on the table.

  “Can we just get on with it? Whatever we’re supposed to be doing? If you want to explain what’s happening to the other s’vlor, I’d love to hear it, but since most of my questions go unanswered, I’d rather avoid the frustration. I have a feeling I need to concentrate and I’m finding that difficult.”

  “Are you trying to anger me?”

  “No, Gregor. I’m simply being honest.” Her attention flicked back to the High Tender.

  The few times she’d been in the presence of the two men together, things never went well, but she reminded herself this was a battlefield. She needed to bend to survive, give so she could take. With a long breath out, she buried her anger and portray the meek woman they wanted to see.

  “I’m sorry.” She glanced sideways at the High Tender certain Gregor caught every nuance. “I’m a little scared. I didn’t mean to be rude. High Tender Marcus marched me back here and explained nothing. I’m a little keyed up. Then I see you here and that always stirs up such strong emotions. I never know what to feel, or which way is up.”

  She’d learned a few things about Gregor. Blue colored his passion. Silver his displeasure. Right now, his eyes glittered with a pale and brittle light. When he was pleased he used her name, and when he was not the possessive label, opés, came out.

  “What you see before you, opés, are three items which the Tenders have used for generations to train the WOR-skill. They are focusing devices aimed not so much to bring out your abilities, but rather to pair compatible vlor’ and s’vlor, Yin and Yang, to borrow from our combined Earth history. You and I will perform the exercises because it is required to validate compatibility before training can begin and will serve as an aid in focusing your mind during future exercises. Your state of mind needs to be calm and focused.”

  The High Tender’s chair creaked as he shifted his weight.

  “What if we’re not a match?” She glanced at the High Tender.

  “We are most definitely matched.” Gregor drew her attention back to him with his sharp tone. “Did I not say you belonged to me?” He pushed the three things aside and the tenor of his voice hardened, steel bridging the gap between his words. “Stop looking at him. I am your focus.”

  A shiver went down her spine and her gaze snapped back to meet the silvered glare of Gregor’s direct gaze.

  “Sorry.”

  He let out a breath and stretched his neck side to side. “This will not work if you are anxious. I know how your mind works. You have questions rolling around in that head of yours. None of this will work if you're not focused on the task at hand. It is a waste of both of our time, so let us deal with your questions.”

  Without thinking, she looked to the High Tender. He kept the braklav spinning. The constant sliver blur flashed in her peripheral vision reminding her of p
ain.

  Gregor slammed his fist on the table making her jump. “Stop looking at him!” His glare was, cold, unrelenting, and full of disapproval.

  “I’m sorry!” she said with a yelp. “He makes me nervous. Him and that thing in his hand.”

  Gregor reached out. “Give me your hand.”

  The jolt of their bond surged up her arm and dove directly into her heart. She gasped with the adrenaline spiking in her blood.

  “Take a deep breath,” he said, stroking the back of her hand. “This will be hard enough. Tell me, what is wrong?”

  “I’m not trying to be difficult.” She glanced down at her lap and dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’m scared.” Terrified really of the silver rod spinning in her peripheral vision. Her gaze shifted left. “What happens if I fail?” Because deep down she didn’t believe what they claimed was possible.

  “I see.”

  “If I can’t do this…” She couldn’t help but swallow against the thickness growing in her throat. “If I’m not successful, what are you going to do to me?”

  “Elise, I understand what you fear, but you must trust me. This exercise works only if you relinquish control. I have already told you Lord vlor’Vardhal will not touch you with the braklav, but you must work with me. This is my promise to you.”

  He’d given her his promise, even if it was backed up with a threat.

  She’d be a fool not to take advantage of it, so she took a deep breath and asked. “Tell me why one of your planet’s lights went dim. How did you know I’d be yours? Did you know the moment you saw me or only after we touched? It was that first touch, right? That was this bond?”

  High Tender Marcus slammed his fist on the table. “Sire, why do you bother explaining anything? She is s’vlor!” The skin over his knuckles turned white from where he gripped the braklav.

  Her lungs struggled, but she took each breath in and out. Why did he care so much if Gregor answered such simple questions?

  Gregor turned to the High Tender. “Elise and I have had an interesting conversation about answering questions in the past. She promised to work with me if I worked with her. Is that not so?”

  That wasn’t exactly how it had gone. She promised to be nice and he’d inferred the rest. “I only meant to say, it matters how you treat me.”

  The High Tender slapped the braklav in his palm, but Gregor placed a restraining hand on his arm. He nodded for her to continue.

  Sometimes there was great power in confessing the truth. Gregor wouldn’t be able to say she lied to him. The High Tender wouldn’t be able to punish her for lying. “If you and I are building bridges, then I’ll give you the truth, but you already know you don’t want it.”

  “Even in surrender, you challenge me.” He drummed his fingers on the table and they sat in silence once again. “Tell me, what is the truth? Will this be worth my time? You’ve asked me to be nice and treat you with respect and compassion. Will I regret it?” He sat back, crossing his arms, and eyed her with interest.

  She hesitated to answer. Clearly, he demanded her surrender, but she didn’t know if that was something she could fake. The words she chose had to give him what he wanted without giving too much.

  “I only meant to say that if you were nice, compassionate even, if only from time to time, it would make the rest of it easier for me. Does it matter how you treat me? I believe so, but even then, I have every reason to hate you and none to feel otherwise. My emotions are conflicted—no, sorry, not my emotions—I know exactly how I feel. I hate you. I hate the Vendel. With every fiber of my being, I hate all of you.”

  The High Tender grabbed the braklav, but Gregor placed a restraining hand on his arm. “Continue.”

  She went on, knowing the danger in her words, but it felt good to speak her mind. “If I knew of any possible way to hurt you, I would in a heartbeat. When you touch me, my skin burns. When you kiss me, I want more. It confuses the hell out of me and I hate myself for it. I’m trapped and I see no way out except to work with you, and that makes me very angry.” It was the truth, only by learning the WOR-skill would she get enough power to fight them.

  “If you’re hoping for my enthusiasm,” she continued, “I don’t know if I can promise it. I’m going to try and work with you, but I’ll probably fail. I can’t help but fight you. I know it doesn’t make any sense to keep fighting when I’ve already lost, but I can’t admit you’ve won. You want my honesty, Gregor. I can't be more transparent than that. But when you treat me with kindness and dignity, like answering my questions and giving in to any reasonable requests I may have, then yes, it helps me to work with you instead of fight against you. Is that honest enough for you?”

  “It’s a start. How can I get you to put that aside and learn what I must teach?”

  “I honestly don’t know.” She glanced at High Tender Marcus. “I’ll learn whatever I’m supposed to learn, because I know what he’ll do if I don’t.”

  High Tender Marcus pointed the braklav at her. “See how she defies you?”

  She pulled back, cringing.

  Gregor shook his head. “No, I do not think that is what my opés is saying, Lord vlor’Vardhal.” He leaned toward her. “Go on, Elise, continue.”

  She sucked in a deep breath and blew it out, slow and measured. “Is it worth your time to answer my questions? Probably. Will you regret it? Maybe. Trust will always be a challenge between us. I don’t understand what’s happening with the bond and that scares the hell out of me.”

  “Lord vlor’Vardhal is correct. Even in surrender, you challenge me, but it’s enough.” Gregor drummed his fingers on the table and they sat in silence once again. “Your honesty makes you strong. That is what will save my empire, and I don’t mind taking time to explain things to you.”

  “This is a mistake,” the High Tender grumbled. He paced the room, moving behind her. The deep tread of his boots sent shivers of fear up her spine. In his hand, the blur of the braklav threatened. “She will cost you everything.”

  “I disagree,” Gregor said. “And the decision is mine to make. Trust in your Emperor, Lord vlor’Vardhal. I have vowed to save us all.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Elise didn’t like not being able to see the High Tender. Not that she could do anything about where he chose to stand or walk.

  “Are any of her questions so damaging?” Gregor turned to address the High Tender. “If she is so intent on hurting me, then I need her to understand why that is not a good idea. I have come to learn my opés needs incentive to work toward my goals rather than against them.”

  High Tender Marcus moved back into her line of sight, twirling the braklav in the air. His lips pressed into a thin line. With a flick of his wrist, the braklav snapped into his palm, landing with a thud.

  “As you wish, Sire.” He paced, making a wide circuit around the table. “10-2,” his voice dropped into a lecturing tone, “the compatibility scale measures the strength of the future biologic and mental link between vlor’ and s’vlor. The sole purpose is to see how the man and woman react to one another. How well can he make her perform? How compliant is she to his direction? How willing is she to please him? Over two cycles, we have a general idea who a woman will bond with best. A degree of attraction—emotional and physical—ensures strong bonding potential. In some cases, we find no compatible match and resort to a stronger set of emotions.”

  “Torture?” She twisted around to get a view of the emperor.

  High Tender Marcus’s beady eyes drilled into hers. Dark and severe, his gaze made her shudder.

  “If she’s not compliant, we bring the s’vlor back here and leave her with a potential vlor’, a whipstick, and the imagination of the lord. If, after that, we are unable to achieve a compatibility score of at least eight of ten, we eliminate the woman.”

  “You kill her?” They were barbarians.

  “After Activation, a non-bonded WOR is a liability.”

  “The bond?” She turned to Gregor, confused
. “We already have a bond.”

  “Once compatibility is confirmed,” the High Tender continued, “and after some basic proficiency in the WOR-skill is achieved, the Blood Rite is performed.”

  “Blood Rite?” She’d heard them say those words before. Bonds and Blood Rites? She would never understand.

  He gave a nod. “Your blood will activate Emperor vlor’Malita’s WOR-genes, allowing him to train you.”

  She didn’t like the sound of that. “You mean control me.”

  High Tender Marcus exchanged a look with Gregor.

  Gregor answered. “The WOR-skill is…difficult to contain. The power accessed by a newly activated WOR can be volatile. I will guide you while you learn and temper your emerging abilities. It’s for your protection and the safety of everyone.”

  “Safety?”

  “You must understand the dangers.”

  “I’m no threat.” She tapped her chest. “I mean look at me.”

  “It’s the power you’ll touch which is dangerous. WOR need to be contained until they are trained.”

  “You mean enslaved.” Her stare bore into Gregor, but he refused to flinch against the animosity she threw at him.

  “Our WOR see it as a privilege to serve the common good.”

  “Do they have a choice?”

  Gregor shook his head. “It is a sacred birthright. A woman cannot refuse. Why would she?”

  “I would.” She slammed her hand on the table. “I do, but then you know this…as do all the woman out there right now being paired up with future masters. You simply don’t care about what is right or just.”

  “You need to understand our history.” Gregor leaned back, splaying his fingers wide on the table. The muscles of his jaw tightened, clearly, he was trying to remain calm in the face of her questions. He’s the one who encouraged her to ask. It wasn’t her fault he wasn’t comfortable with her questions. She’d push until he shut her down.

  “Please, enlighten me. Tell me how being your slave is my privilege.”

  The two men exchanged another look, but it was Gregor who spoke. “The first woman who expressed the WOR-skill wound up enslaving our people.” His tone softened. “WOR have abilities the rest of us don’t. The first Vendel woman to express this talent abused it horribly. It took a long time to figure out how to control her. Then we discovered what made her WOR. Those abilities are meant for the common good.”