by Marie Dry
“He won’t get the chance—our technology will keep him out. We have a new fleet that can defeat any Zyrgin ship.” Coralinda tried to hide it, but unease briefly flickered over her face. Again, that nervous yawn. The priest moved, a short restless shift in his hair betraying his fear.
“Do not concern yourself, sister, the Zyrgins are not that tough. They’re supposed to not to be able to scar, but a little bit of acid from the plant and now they’re not so proud anymore,” the Aurelian in the silver suit said. Now that she looked for it, she could see the family resemblance. Both had blade-sharp noses and pointed chins. And shifty eyes.
It was interesting, seeing the priest turn a strange pink shade. It started on the skin on his bald head and spread down, interweaving with the pattern on his skin. His shoulders shrank slightly.
Coralinda tittered in that irritating way that made Sarah’s hands itch to slap her silly. “A great gift, Cornelius. I so enjoyed their reactions when the acid marked their skins.”
Nausea roiled in her stomach. “You put acid on a Zyrgin?” If the priest reacted like that, it had to be really bad. And she didn’t like the way they said ‘the plant’. What were the chances they had some of those aggressive plants here?
“Oh no, my dear deformed human, we put acid on several Zyrgins,” Coralinda’s brother bragged.
Did they really think they could hurt good Zyrgin warriors like this and get away with it? That Sarah would let them get away with it. “Are you sure you’re safe? You’d better be, because you’re not just playing with your life, but with a lifetime of excruciating torture from the ruler of all the known galaxies and soon-to-be ruler of the unclaimed galaxies.” It was bittersweet, repeating the words Zaar said to her so many times.
Sarah was gratified to see Coralinda pale even though she remained strong. “My brother has the metal suit. He will protect me. Our forces are superior to the Zyrgin’s and our perimeter defences around Aurelia are impossible to breach.”
Sarah had no knowledge of warfare and tactics, but even to her untutored ears, the woman sounded naïve. Like a child playing at warfare. Her brother seemed to believe everything she said, as well. It was unfathomable that they thought they could stand against a planet that was one big war machine. The Aurelians were known for their luxury goods, not weapons production.
She couldn’t help thinking that the Zyrgin warriors, this awful alien had tortured, could’ve been among those on the parade ground the day she arrived. Those warriors that worked and trained all the time. “You’re evil, and you won’t get away with this,” she spat at Cornelius.
“I already got away with this.” He tittered like the woman had, stroking over the jinz izwe his jacket was made from, as if compelled.
“Such quaint words you use, human.” He looked pointedly at her hair and his gaze travelled down her body; it felt like oily evil sliding over her. No Zyrgin male would ever look at another warrior’s woman like this.
“You have no honor,” she said and enjoyed the way he jerked.
“Not being willing to be oppressed by them anymore does not mean we have no honor,” Coralinda hissed.
Sarah looked around. “You seem to be living in luxury? Zyrgin rule cannot be too bad for you.”
The door opened and a young woman, with the same long, hanging lobes as Coralinda, came in bearing a huge tray. To Sarah’s eyes she looked nervous. Her dress was plain and made from either cotton or something resembling cotton. She set the tray down on a table decorated with flowers made from gold-and-purple inlay. She served first Coralinda and then Cornelius and after a nervous look at Coralinda, she ignored the priest and left. Or tried to. Cornelius stuck out his foot and tripped her. She fell with a soft cry that she immediately cut off, the silver tray clanging to the floor.
Coralinda jumped up and slapped the woman. “Clumsy peasant, I will have you whipped for this.”
Sarah jumped up, took a step forward, and jerked when Cornelius grabbed her and threw her back in the chair. Her neck snapped back and for a moment her ears buzzed unpleasantly. By the time she could focus again, the servant had picked up her tray and was scuttling away. Sarah was sickened at these people. How could they complain about the Zyrgins, but treat their own people like this?
Coralinda turned and grabbed Sarah’s hair and yanked it back, arching Sarah’s neck painfully. What was it with these people and the hair pulling? “I can live any way I want. I am born from the royal line. I am entitled to this lifestyle. The Zyrgin is a beast and I will ensure that he suffer, like we’ve suffered.”
“No one makes the Zyrgin suffer—he makes others suffer,” Sarah said as calmly as she could, her scalp aching. She hoped he appeared right in this room and gave these two a dose of their own medicine.
Coralinda let go of her hair and went back to her chair. Sarah noticed the priest’s rapt attention. Most Zyrgins rarely showed any emotion, but his face clearly betrayed a sickening enjoyment of Sarah’s pain. Maybe he was just evil: a bad egg in a basketful of eggs—with hopefully only a single bad one.
“No amount of riches can compensate for the fact that I am not allowed to rule my own planet,” the woman added, as if she realized how self-centered she sounded. “My people have to be free.”
Beneath the self-importance, Sarah sensed something personal in the woman’s anger. “Are you related to his first wife?” The words left her mouth before she even thought about it.
“She was my great-grandmother’s sister. He took her and called her a breeder, as if she was some kind of animal, and then he enslaved us.” Still Sarah had the sense there was more at play here.
“It must’ve been decades ago—why are you still so emotional over her circumstances?” She’d have to ask Zaar how long Zyrgins lived. She didn’t relish the idea of becoming old long before him.
“He took her as if she was some insignificant commoner. And then he killed most of our males in my family line and enslaved my planet and my people. I should be queen.”
As if she couldn’t help herself, Coralinda reached forward and yanked Sarah’s hair so hard, her neck snapped back.
Sarah smirked at Coralinda. “I’ve had my hair pulled by bigger and much meaner people.” She was vaguely aware of a sick excitement rolling off the priest. There’d be no redemption for that one. Sarah very much feared there was a glass cylinder with his name on it. “If you hurt me, Zaar will destroy you.” It wasn’t an idle boast. Zaar would level this planet if they hurt her.
Coralinda let go of Sarah’s hair and arranged the woven silk and beads on her bald head. “He cannot touch me. I am more powerful than he could ever dream.” She was mad. The more Sarah listened to her, the more convinced she was that this woman was not sane.
Coralinda looked Sarah up and down with a sneer. “You are small and weak, as they say. Is that the parena style everyone is talking about? I don’t see the attraction in trying to look like a boy.”
Sarah would’ve liked to know who the ‘they’ were that discussed her stature and style. It wasn’t as if she had a public role on Zyrgin.
A musical sound came from the door and Sarah stiffened. She really didn’t want to meet another Aurelian that wanted to pull her hair out of her head.
The other woman laughed, a shrill sound echoing the sick enjoyment in her eyes. “Ah, I’d hoped he’d get here sooner.”
Sarah clenched her hands to hide their trembling; whoever was at the door was more bad news. She straightened her spine and glared at the smirking priest. Only his small ridge and green-and-copper skin looked Zyrgin. He wore clothes of finest silk, his heeled, gem-encrusted boots different from the plain Zyrgin boots. He’d allowed himself to be seduced by luxury.
“He’s going to make you regret you were ever born,” she snarled at the priest, all the while worrying about who was at the door.
The priest pulled his lips back and she’d been among Zyrgins long enough to know it was a sneer and not a laugh. “The Aurelians will kill him before he can get to me
.” She didn’t have to mention Zaar’s name; the priest knew exactly who she meant and he might act brave, but she saw his unease in the way he shifted in his chair.
Sarah bared her own teeth at the priest. “Just so you know, there’s a glass cylinder with your name on it in the basement of Zyrgin headquarters.” She looked away from the priest to glare at Cornelius. “And the people who can defeat him have not been born yet.”
“You are late,” Coralinda said to whoever was at the door.
“My apologies,” a deep voice said.
Sarah’s heart missed several beats and for one moment joy suffused her blood with halogen bubbles. But then she slumped. It wasn’t Zaar—that voice was deep and Zyrgin, but it wasn’t the voice of her warrior. Zaar’s voice was deeper, richer, and never failed to stroke her deepest nerves in the best ways.
Another Zyrgin, this one in priest clothes, with that odd head dress stood in the doorway. Sarah’s heart missed a beat. The Wise One stood tall and self-assured, looking around as if ensuring everyone was present.
Sarah whimpered—she just couldn’t help it. How many more betrayals would she have to deal with? Of all the Zyrgins, why did it have to be the religious ones in a terrifying echo of what had happened to her on Earth? Please let Zaar be as all-powerful as he’s always claimed. She wanted, no she needed him to come for her.
“I have brought more jinz izwe.”
Sarah jumped up and clenched her fists. She wanted to pummel him into the ground. “You miserable traitor, how could you do that?”
Coralinda snapped her fingers and two guards appeared. “Take her to the dungeon. She’s becoming tiresome.”
Sarah ignored Coralinda and her brother and the guards walking determinedly toward her. She glared at the Wise One. “How could you betray him? He trusts you.”
“He does not trust me. Like all warriors, he finds me less than acceptable. Only the warrior class has his respect and support.”
“You miserable liar,” Sarah screamed at him. She’d seen Zaar talking to the Wise One and he’d never treated him with anything but respect. The guards grabbed her arms and dragged her to the door. Sarah twisted in their grip and glared at the priest and the Wise One. “How can you betray your own people? Where’s your honor? Just wait, he’ll make you sorry and I will enjoy it when he tortures you both. You hear me, I’ll enjoy it.”
The guards dragged her to the door. She wasn’t going to make it easy for them and she kicked and resisted with all her might.
“Wait,” the Wise One said. He came closer, so close she felt his breath on her face. It should have a fetid stench, but it was fresh, again reminding her of Zaar.
Baring his teeth, he clasped her neck—she’d have permanent bruises if everyone here was going to choke her. He leaned farther down and sucked on her ear. She shuddered with disgust. Only Zaar was allowed to touch her like that. Not this, no not this, kept repeating in her mind. “Trust me,” he said barely above a whisper, right in her ear.
If it had been anyone but the wise one, she would’ve been hopeful, would’ve trusted him. But this was the Reverend all over again. His hand slid down. She bit her lip until she tasted blood. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of cringing and whimpering. Maybe she should throw up on him, she thought, when she felt her gorge rise. His hand dipped below the neckline of her T-shirt. She only vaguely heard the taunts and laughter of the others. Cold settled between her breasts. Disgust and fear made her tremble uncontrollably. She was only dimly aware of catcalls and jeering words from Coralinda and her brother.
22
The Wise One stepped back and the guards grabbed Sarah’s arms and jerked her down the corridor. “Let me go—the Zyrgin will kill you for t-this.” She tried to act brave, but she wanted to curl up in a corner and block out the world until Zaar came for her. If he came for her. That insidious thought slipped through her defences. And in her mind, a refrain played over and over: not again, not again. Never again.
She fought them all the way down the palace corridors and down through twisting and winding, and ever narrowing passages until they reached dungeons that smelled like sour milk, old sweat and urine. Like the Reverend’s basement. Like the tents in the raider camps.
One of the guards opened a steel door of a cell that, to her terrified eyes, looked a lot like the one in the Reverend’s basement. Sarah had to concentrate not to empty her bladder, she’d never been this scared before. Before, when her stepmother had sold her, she’d been innocent, couldn’t imagine the things that would happen to her. This time she knew what bad men could do to her in gruesome detail and that made it so much worse.
Like it did in that sickeningly opulent room upstairs, the thought made her angry—never again. She’d fight. And this time, when Zaar tortured them, she’d press that button.
The second guard pushed her inside and she fell down and landed hard on her hands and knees, the stone floor scraping the skin on her knees raw. Her wrists ached from the impact. Sarah scrambled to her feet, ignoring the pain in her knees, and looked up, into the face of a Zyrgin warrior with a deep scar on his left cheek. He and five others were chained to the wall, with what looked suspiciously like jinz izwe chains. All of them had angry-looking scars on their left cheeks. As if someone had swiped down their cheeks with an infected knife. That sick someone had tried his best to make their scars identical.
“Are you the warriors that—”
“Quiet, Zyrgin whore.” Coralinda’s brother stepped into the cell behind her. It was seriously disturbing to know he must’ve been behind her the whole time without her realizing. Smirking the whole time, he dragged her by the hair to another wall with empty manacles. Sarah screamed and fought in vain. He might not be a warrior, but he was still stronger than her.
The warriors went crazy, their chains clanging as they fought to get loose. They growled like the wolves Natalie had once shown her on a TC program. Cornelius motioned to two other men who brought in a large trolley. “I brought you and the so-called warriors a gift.” The moment the trolley entered, the tense atmosphere altered—became sinister.
Sarah’s heart sank. She knew this sensation, had felt it on the mountain when she and Zaar had found the flower, and again on the planet where they studied the warrior plants.
Cornelius smirked and lifted the embroidered cloth that covered something on that trolley.
The warriors watched Cornelius with red gazes unblinking. If anyone had asked her, she’d say that red eyes could never look cold, but there was something cold and reptilian in the way they watched the Aurelian man.
Something moved on the trolley. Ice-cold dread settled deep inside her gut. Three of the invading plants Zaar had shown her bloomed bright red and menacing inside the glass case. They might not have faces, but each plant had a malevolence to them that made Sarah shrink into the wall behind her.
The evil priest stepped into the open door of the cell, where Sarah and the warriors were chained to the walls, and smirked at them. Sarah had seen his kind in the camps. They wouldn’t inflict the suffering themselves, but enjoyed watching the misery of victims.
“Did you know that Zyrgin warriors don’t have scars?” Cornelius walked up to the chained warriors with a swagger she knew he wouldn’t have if they weren’t chained.
“You are brave while we are chained, traitor,” one of the warriors said in Standard Galactic.
Cornelius snorted. “You thought nothing could touch your tough, perfect skins or test your honor. Let’s test that, shall we?” He went to the plant and inserted something that looked like a large scalpel. Cornelius operated it with a small handheld device. The plant screeched and shrank away from the scalpel. Sarah nearly jumped out of her skin at that unearthly sound. The warriors had gone preternaturally still. Cornelius cut off the stem of the shrieking plant and carefully took it out of the container with a tong. Sarah flinched at the shrieks of the plant and shrank back from the fluid that dripped on the trolley and burned through the metal. Cor
nelius stopped. “Ah, I almost forgot, my sister likes to watch, but she can’t stand the stench down here.” He motioned to the priest, who pressed a button on the wall. Sarah despised him.
“Now you have a choice, warriors. I can burn this weak human female with the acid this plant produces, or you can take it instead of her. What—”
“I take the parena’s place,” all of the warriors said, the clang of their chains reverberating around the stone walls of the cell. They jerked in their chains, trying to pull them out of the wall. The stone wall groaned, but held.
Cornelius laughed. “The parena, eh. We will see if you are as brave an hour from now. You won’t be so eager to take the parena’s place after I’ve spent some time with you.” He sneered at Sarah. “Enjoy being the only female the Zyrgins don’t call breeder while you can.” He pressed the stalk against the muscled neck of the Zyrgin chained on the left. Sarah whimpered, but the warrior only grunted, his teeth clenched, muscles bulging against the pain.
Cornelius’s face twisted with sick enjoyment.
She couldn’t do this, couldn’t let her fear of a repeat of the camps, allow her to stand by while these warriors took the torture meant for her. “No. Stop. Burn me instead,” she screamed at Cornelius.
He ignored her and went to the next warrior. It hit her then, a realization that freed her, allowed her to offer herself up for torture to save these brave warriors. She might be afraid, unsure what this monster would do to her, but she wasn’t cowed. And she knew two things with crystal clarity: Zaar would come for her, and he would still want her. Even if Cornelius burned her beyond recognition.
“You do not touch the parena,” one of the warriors said over her screams for Cornelius to hurt her instead.
“We will take her torture,” another insisted, when Cornelius started to look back at her. Obviously tempted to hurt her.