Vendel Rising Omnibus

by L A Warren

  “Yes,” she said. Her heart beat wildly as adrenaline raced around her body, making her tremble. The instinct to flee overwhelmed her senses, but to run from this man was certain invitation to the administrations of the braklav.

  “Explain then, opés,” Gregor said from behind her, “why there are four little holes in the far wall.”

  Elise spun, heart racing. The looming shape of the emperor filled the doorway. He wore his black jumpsuit with the silver detailing and the knee-high boots. He held his arms crossed over his chest, looking impossibly handsome, and yet she cringed, hunching in on herself and even taking a step back toward the High Tender and the braklav. The thick muscles of Gregor’s biceps twitched. His silvery eyes flashed with displeasure as the swirly black tattoo over his brow writhed with fury.

  She froze. Her eyes flicked between the two imposing men. High Tender Marcus held the braklav. Gregor's stare held an even greater threat, made all the more imposing by the casual way he held his head cocked to the side.

  She swallowed. “Gregor.” It came out as a squeak.

  The High Tender frowned and advanced.

  She shifted her attention to High Tender Marcus.

  “The emperor has asked a question,” he said.

  “I can’t,” she said.

  “You can’t? In that you are unable or unwilling to answer?” Gregor said.

  I must have left holes in the wall.

  “I’m…unable, Gregor,” she said cautiously.

  His brows drew down, displeased. “Answer me—yes or no—the fact there are four holes in the wall over there, far away from our table…” He jerked his chin toward the opposite wall. “Is this, or is it not, a surprise to you?”

  “Yes, Gregor. I mean no.” She scratched her head at the double negative. “I mean yes, it is a surprise.”

  “You think we're fools!” The High Tender's face turned red. The braklav became a blur in his hand and then she felt it against her throat. “S’vlor, I suggest you explain.”

  “I’m not lying! I didn’t know the holes were still there.” Oh shit. She hadn’t meant to say it like that.

  Gregor's lips twisted. “Now that is even more interesting. So, what did you think had happened to the holes?”

  “Sire, this is ridiculous.” High Tender Marcus pressed the braklav to her neck, but she did not yet feel its sting. He grabbed her wrist.

  She flinched. Her eyes locked on to his.

  The emperor held up a hand, as if telling the High Tender to hold still. He looked to the far wall and brought his hand to his chin, rubbing his lower lip with his finger. “No, I think she’s telling the truth.” Gregor shook his head. His eyes narrowed and his voice dropped the temperature in the room to just below dead cold. “It’s what she is not saying that is the lie.”

  “Perhaps a touch of the braklav will loosen her tongue,” the High Tender said.

  “Please, High Tender Marcus, no,” she whispered.

  Gregor raised his hand, halting the High Tender. “Opés, sit down.” He gestured to one of the chairs. “Tell me about the holes in the wall and maybe things will go easier for you.”

  Maybe? She collapsed into the nearest chair, grateful not to have fallen to the floor. High Tender Marcus released her wrist and the braklav no longer threatened her neck. She glanced at Gregor. He motioned with his hand for her to breathe in and out.

  One breath shuddered into her body. Another followed.

  Gregor and the High Tender pulled up chairs to face her. Gregor straddled his backward and rested his chin on the backrest. The High Tender sat with his legs crossed, knee and elbows spread wide. He twirled the braklav.

  “I just wanted to see if I could do it my way.”

  High Tender Marcus snorted. “Your way? What can you possibly know about the WOR-skill?”

  “This system you’re teaching is wrong. You have all these steps—technical and perhaps correct—but as a whole, wrong. I can’t follow it. It’s like when my brother-in-law tried to teach me to juggle. I could toss one ball in the air and even two. But when he added three to the mix…his instructions just made me fumble all three balls. I couldn’t even keep one in the air.”

  “What does any of this have to do with the emperor’s question?” the High Tender asked. As he leaned toward her, she pulled back.

  “He gave up on me. I got so mad at him. I picked up the balls and tossed them in the air. I don’t even know when I started juggling. It just happened all by itself.”

  “Get to the point. Cute story but irrelevant.” The set to Gregor’s jaw told her she was in trouble.

  She implored him with her eyes wide, hoping he would understand, praying he would forgive, but knowing he could not. “Yesterday, everyone got those little balls to move. Me? Nothing. Over and over, you took me through that complex pattern. And I tried. I really tried to please you. I followed up to a point and then I just lost it…all of it. I couldn’t keep it together. I’d get to the same point and it’d unravel. It reminded me of juggling and I got mad. So, when you left, I wanted to try it my way. I didn’t mean for it to happen and was really surprised when the balls flew across the room. Then I got scared and wished the balls back on the table, and there they were. I didn’t know they had left holes in the wall.”

  Gregor stood and kicked the chair to the side. He swooped down to within inches of her face. She recoiled at the expression of fury in his face. His strong hand gripped her hair and held her head back.

  “You should have told High Tender vlor’Martun immediately!” He released her and loomed over her. Darkness filled his face. “I thought you agreed to work with me, Elise. You promised and you lied. High Tender, she is yours.” Disappointment hung heavy in his voice. “It’s time you learned what obedience means.”

  “Please, Gregor, I’m sorry.” Her gut clenched. "I'm so sorry." She jumped up and grabbed his shirt.

  He pried her fingers off his shirt, practically throwing her at the High Tender, then he stalked out of the room without a backward glance.

  The High Tender grabbed her. The braklav twirled and snapped into his palm. She tried to crawl back over the table but he connected the braklav to her throat and sent her into oblivion with a flare of agony.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Gambit, Day 141

  She came back to consciousness in a small square room. Her wrists were bound and suspended above her head. There was one other thing. She was naked.

  “You’re in one of the private lesson chambers in the Confinement Deck.” The soft voice of High Tender Marcus spoke from across the room.

  She searched for him.

  He leaned against the far wall, arms and legs crossed, watching.

  “High Tender, please forgive me.” Her breaths came in erratic bursts.

  “This is a formal training session.” He watched carefully.

  Her heart fluttered, but she understood and used the formal address. “My lord, High Tender Marcus, please forgive me.”

  “Oh, I forgive you. This training has been directed by the Emperor. I intend to carry out his command. Your behavior was unfortunate, and I’ve been instructed to make sure it never happens again.”

  “I promise.” She begged. “Please, High Tender Marcus, I won’t—”

  “Silence!”

  Her pleas died in her throat.

  “I’ve been given an entire cycle to educate you. Welcome to Tender Training.” He stepped away from the wall, twirling the braklav in his hand. “For the next ten days, from noon until two, you will report here. You’ll remove your clothes and step to the center of the room where you’ll apply the restraints and wait for my arrival. You will not speak. If you say anything, beg for this to stop, I will add an additional day. Is this unclear in any way?”

  She whispered, “High Tender Marcus, I understand.”

  “Good, then let’s begin. Let me introduce you to the braklav. You’ve only tasted a fraction of what it can do.”

  The powerful man set to h
er body with deliberate purpose. The braklav traced each nerve in her body. Dull pain first. Low and intense, she rocked in agony. Sharp pain made her gasp for breath. Hot and cold, he scalded and froze her body.

  Each time she heard his voice, he gave her time to digest the newest sensation lined up. Before the first ten minutes passed, his voice alone made her tremble in fear.

  Sweat poured off her body. Her lips dried and cracked as she panted against the pain.

  His attention turned to her muscles. The High Tender began at her neck and worked his way down, activating each muscle and forcing it to react. She cried out in anguish as her muscles convulsed.

  He pressed the rod to her arm and traced it up to her shackled fingers. The cramps he caused left her whimpering but he did not allow her rest. He moved to her chest, ribs, belly, and lower still. Working like a talented musician he played her like a fine instrument, continuing down her body as his monologue continued. She knew exactly what he was going to do before the braklav graced her skin.

  The braklav could shock, he explained. He turned his administrations back to her nerves. These he lit with wild flashes of pain and followed with a low buzzing just at the threshold of her sensory perception. He held the braklav as the intensity built, until she shook with anticipation of more agony to come, and then he let it all loose in one firestorm of lightning and anguish.

  "Please, please, High Tender Marcus, please," she sobbed, "please stop. I'm so sorry. So sorry." She choked out the words and he stopped. Elise breathed with relief. She had made it through the first session.

  “Your first day is finished, s’vlor,” the High Tender said.

  “Yes, High Tender Marcus,” she said. Each breath came with heart stopping agony.

  The High Tender undid the restraints and her arms fell lifeless to her sides. She wobbled and her legs gave way as she collapsed to the ground.

  “You have ten more days,” he said.

  “Nine, only nine,” she croaked.

  “Right, nine… plus one. My instructions were clear. You were not permitted to speak or beg for this to stop.”

  She groaned and hugged her body, then rocked on the ground, choking out sobs.

  “Your bed has been set apart from the others. During Tender Training your mind will be focused on Emperor Gregor vlor’Malita. His desire will become yours. His wish will be yours. His happiness will become your driving force. Until he is satisfied, I will continue. You may not speak to any WOR. You will eat alone, dress alone, work out alone. Your classes are suspended. Emperor vlor’Malita and I will meet with you in the mornings where you will train in WOR-skill. You know where you’ll be for the middle hours of the day. In the afternoon, the Emperor will rejoin us for more WOR-skill training. I suggest you consider how to impress him.”

  It took two breaths before she could squeak out the appropriate address. “Yes, High Tender Marcus.”

  He threw her dress at her. “Get dressed. Don’t be late.” High Tender Marcus turned on his heels and left. His thick booted steps echoed through the door, leaving a memory etched forever in her mind.

  How will I ever survive ten more days of this?

  She made it two days before darkness filled her world.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Gambit, Day 143

  Elise woke to find herself in a sterile white room, all hard edges and glaring lights. The light hurt her eyes. A sheet covered her body and a thin pillow rested beneath her head. Ghost pains rattled around her body and shot from limb to limb. She wanted to move, but her body protested and refused.

  “Emperor vlor’Malita, she is waking up.” A woman’s voice, low and soft, radiated a tenderness Elise hadn’t heard in a very long time. A shadow passed over her bed, followed by cold fingertips lifting her eyelid and a very bright light shining in her eye.

  “How is she?” Gregor hovered at the foot of the bed.

  Elise knew it was him, could feel his presence even with her eyes closed. The bright light moved to her other eye.

  “Pupils reactive, her vital signs are stable,” the soft voice said.

  “What happened?” Gregor demanded. “Why did she collapse?”

  “This wasn’t from the braklav, my lord. She collapsed from exhaustion.”

  “Her training is no more or less rigorous than the others. In fact, she’s in better condition than most.” The bed shifted as he leaned against it.

  “Perhaps.”

  “How much longer will we need to keep her in the infirmary? I need to get her back to the Confinement Deck and her training.”

  “You can take her back now.”

  Elise groaned. Her lids fluttered open and she sank into the warm caring eyes of a tall, thin woman with shoulder length brown hair. The woman’s face disappeared to be replaced by Gregor’s and the swirling dark tattoo. Elise shut her eyes and said silent prayer for strength.

  “Come, opés.”

  “It may be a little while longer before she has the strength to stand or walk.” The woman urged caution.

  Elise tried to sit.

  The woman helped. She lifted Elise’s legs and swung them around to dangle over the edge of the bed. Her legs felt like leaden weights and her arms were no better. Little tremors made all of her limbs quiver.

  Gregor lifted her off the table and deposited her on her feet.

  She fell.

  He caught her and lifted her into his arms.

  “Perhaps, she should stay here a little longer, my lord,” the doctor urged.

  “You said this was not from the braklav?” Gregor shifted her weight.

  “Correct,” the doctor said.

  “She is otherwise fine?”

  “Yes, my lord,” the doctor said. Her voice was laced with concern, but she didn’t argue.

  “Very well. I’ll carry her back.”

  “As you wish, my lord. I would urge you to lighten up on her physical demands. It will take a day or two for her body to recover.”

  “I hear you. Her physical demands will be light. But I need her back in training.”

  The doctor walked to the door and it opened with a low swoosh. Gregor carried Elise down sterile white corridors and back to the Confinement Deck. He didn’t take her to her bed, but continued down the center of the Confinement Deck, past the classrooms and the exercise field. She rocked in and out of awareness. Her mind drifted and her body hung in his solid grip. Gregor brought her to a small room. Her lids fluttered and she choked back a sob.

  He deposited her in the middle of the floor and held her upright by her hands. Shackles snapped around her wrists.

  She stared at his broad chest and blinked back the beginnings of tears. You couldn’t possibly have brought me back here. I thought you cared for me.

  Her gaze wandered up to his neck and, finally, meandered to his eyes. Hardened steel greeted her and he compressed his lips. Her eyes slipped past his into an unfocused oblivion. His thick scent of musk and spice filled her nostrils. He released her and she sagged against the restraints. Thick booted steps sounded from behind. No need to see. That sound was ingrained in her mind. High Tender Marcus had arrived.

  His deep voice rumbled through the room. “Has she been released from the infirmary?”

  “Yes. The doctor said her collapse wasn’t from the braklav, but rather from exhaustion or stress. You may proceed.”

  Her head sagged forward and she choked back a sob. You're monsters.

  Gregor put a hand around her throat and lifted her chin up. He leaned down and planted a brief kiss on her lips. “You cannot escape Tender Training. I told you, we would do this one way or the other. You chose the hard way. Collapse again and I will leave you hanging.”

  “Gregor—”

  He gripped her chin. “You were warned not to beg.”

  A sniffle. “I only wanted to say…I’m sorry.”

  He released her chin and traced a line down her throat with the back of his fingers, an intense look spread across his features, then hardness f
ell once again. “High Tender, see that she makes it to the classroom. If she needs to be dragged, have the WOR-guards do it.”

  “As you wish.”

  Gregor walked away, leaving her and High Tender Marcus alone.

  I felt nothing when you kissed me. Nothing.

  The braklav held so much pain.

  I can't survive the braklav’s kiss. There's no reason to even try, but that doesn't mean you’ve won. I’m going to disappear and endure.

  She wrapped everything important about herself into a tight little ball and compressed it. Her thoughts, feelings, desires, plans, and hopes for escape vanished as she banished that part of herself into darkness.

  As the braklav touched her body, what was left of her mind splintered. I can't fight your braklav, High Tender. So take everything. When you're done, I'll still be here, hiding in the cracks of what’s left behind.

  He stepped behind her and said, “Day four, shall we begin?”

  She shuddered and gave a nod, remembering not to speak.

  In that moment, as Elise faded into oblivion, the braklav brought forth new voices. Shriek and Whimper stepped into the light, stretching into existence from the ravaged remnants of Elise's mind. Shriek took the pain. Whimper submitted. Elise no longer cared what happened to the body. It was merely a burden to her consciousness. She stepped back while Shriek gloried in agony and Whimper yielded to the High Tender’s demands.

  Days passed.

  WOR-skill training called forth Elise from the blackness for morning and afternoon sessions. She studied and applied herself to learn, only to fade into the background during Tender Training. That time was for Shriek and Whimper to endure. They shielded and protected her from the High Tender. They took the pain and bent to High Tender Marcus’s will.

  Gregor took Elise through WOR-skill practice one painful step at a time. She feared failing him, and begged Shriek and Whimper to step in, but her new sisters refused. They feared Gregor. WOR-skill training belonged to Elise and Gregor. Tender Training belonged to the Master High Tender, Shriek, and Whimper.