The Last Narkoy_OSLO

by Elizabeth Price

  Her eyes seemed to smile when she scanned the room. “Oh my, Parro is dead,” she turned to Sedom with an evil grin. “What? Escaped from your cage? What a shame,” she removed her grin, then looked at the guards who held Sedom. “Return her to her cage,” she ordered.

  “Cassaus, she killed four people,” one of the Cassaus’ guards protested.

  The Cassaus rolled her eyes. “That’s what happens when a vicious pet breaks free of their cage. Take her back. I’ll deal with her tomorrow,” she ordered.

  “But Lord Wyice said,” Cizel questioned as he rushed into the room.

  The Cassaus raised her thin hand. “She belongs to me, not Lord Wyice. At least not yet. Until tomorrow, she is mine and you will do as I say.”

  Cizel grabbed Sedom by her good arm and led her out of the room. “Something tells me you were set up,” he whispered to her.

  “Uh hum,” Sedom huffed. “I belong to the Cassaus?” she asked in a whisper.

  “Your paperwork is very confusing, but yes at the moment you do belong to her. Tomorrow, you will belong to Lord Wyice. We’re allowing him certain courtesies when it comes to your care,” he explained.

  He led her back into her cage. “Try not to kill anyone else today. I’ll bring you your mid-meal,” he warned.

  ___

  Jeina glanced into Zion’s room, noticing the door was partly open. Zion was inside, dressing. She knocked just as he was slipping on his underwear. “Um,” she cleared her throat. All the while Zion’s almond eyes widened to three times their typical size.

  “I didn’t realize the door was open,” he called, turning his back to her.

  “You… a… didn’t come to my office,” she said, her voice a nervous titter.

  Zion practically jumped into his pants as he spun around. “Uh… I didn’t realize that was today,” he said, motioning with his eyes to the space beside him.

  Jeina spun to the wall, noticing the doctor watching her. “Doctor… oh. I didn’t see you there. If that’s the case, you can come by later to discuss the—“

  “Transportation issue,” Zion covered.

  “If you’re lucky,” she flirted, finishing with a wink as she walked out.

  Zion turned back to the doctor, his face a tinge darker than before. “Um… so do I check out?”

  “No, but you knew that. You need a specialist who knows Zalmin neurology,” The Novaac’s Mandicien doctor said, his red eyes twinkling with concern. “Be careful with Jeina. Her last boyfriend’s body was found in the fuel tank of a cargo ship.”

  Zion’s expression turned into a horrified grimace. “What happened?”

  “No one knows for certain. Rumors claim he was a traitor to either us or them. I don’t know. It’s been about three years ago. You’re the first man she’s had any interest in since then,” the doctor explained as he gathered his equipment.

  Zion’s heavy jaw gaped. He nodded his appreciation over the information as the doctor left. Numbly, he sunk onto his cot. For some reason the information about Jeina’s old boyfriend disturbed him greatly. Was she the one who turned him in?

  “No,” he scoffed, rising from the cot. He was overreacting. There was no way Jeina would betray those she cared for.

  He hurried out the door in search of Jeina. He found her and several others in the large meeting room, once again looking over maps. This time there was an unfamiliar man in the group. He had to do a double-take to make certain he wasn’t Narkoy.

  Rosanheer glanced over his shoulder to Zion, noticing him staring at Tausi. “Zion, good. This is Tausi, Jeina’s friend. He’s an ex-game player who was housed next to Sortec. He knows a way we can get out of there without being detected.”

  Zion offered his hand for the man to shake. “Good to meet you. I’m grateful you were able to help her.”

  Tausi pointed to Zion. “You’re Zion? Sortec mentioned your name,” he said.

  “I’m sure she did,” Zion grumbled. He turned away to hide his frustration.

  “She was glad to hear you were alive,” Tausi mentioned. He turned back to the map. “I hope your team can pull this off. You’re dealing with at least twenty guards, depending on how large of a threat they think she poses. Good thing for you I paid attention. I can tell you exactly where every guard will be positioned. Maybe that will help.”

  Zion turned back to Tausi. “What did you do before the war?” he asked.

  “Security for Telisan. I used to guard the capital building and occasionally the Chadon when they felt her life threatened,” Tausi explained. “I fought to keep the Marisheio away, but there were too many of them. For some reason they decided to capture me. Soon after my capture they tossed me into the arena.”

  “I know I would. You’re not a typical Narkoy, are you?” Aris questioned from beside Jeina.

  Tausi shook his head, grinning. “I’m a third-breed. I’m technically a third generation Matrad.”

  “A fighter,” Rosanheer pointed out. “I thought your generation were mentally unstable?”

  “Some, but not all,” Tausi shut down the conversation by returning to the map. He pointed to a long corridor. “If I remember correctly, this will lead you out into the main streets of Hariseer. You can have a transport waiting,” he pointed to an alleyway, “here. It’s far enough away from the arena to not make you look too suspicious. The only problem—“

  “It’s about a mile walk. Which will be an issue if we’re fleeing on foot with guards chasing us,” Orion mentioned from beside Zion as he nervously tapped his cane against the rock floor.

  “I can buy you some time as long as your team is up for it?” Jeina offered.

  Zion glanced at Orion and Ryn, who both nodded. He had concerns for the doctor, who was still walking with a cane, but as long as he thought he could do it, there were really no other options.

  “I volunteer to go in the doctor’s place. I have medical training,” Tausi offered.

  Zion shook his head. “You’re too raw. Heal first, my friend. We will fight together another time,” he offered. “Well then, it looks like we have a plan. I’ll let the Chisarel know we go in tomorrow.”

  ___

  Danstu stared at the blank screen, unable to stop nodding. The plan was set. It would be another thirty-two hours until he know anything. Even if he contacted Aris, there would be no knowing the outcome.

  He released a long, shuddering breath then reached for another computer pad. There was nothing he could do, nothing but wait.

  A knock at the door caused him to jump. The door opened to Lolum. Danstu couldn’t help noticing a dark smug of mud across the old man’s forehead.

  “Been working hard, I see,” Danstu mentioned, offering the man a seat and a tissue. Lolum stared confused at him. Danstu pointed to his own forehead, causing Lolum to realize what he meant.

  Lolum took the tissue, wiping his forehead. “Yes, I suppose I have. We have managed to find final resting grounds for all on levels ten through fifteen. Cidele is working now on cleaning the levels for habitation.”

  Danstu stood, walking to his window. “I was thinking that we need a new fountain in the courtyard,” he started.

  “A new fountain?” Lolum questioned.

  “One that honors our Chadon. We have a sculptor in Gathow, right?” he asked Lolum, who nodded. “Ask him or her to sketch some ideas. It’s time we make this old city new again,” he decided.

  “If that’s what you want, Chisarel.” Lolum stood, hobbling to stand beside Danstu. “They’re planning on rescuing her tomorrow, aren’t they?” he asked. Danstu nodded. “How about you dine with Cidele and me tonight? I promise she’ll keep her clothes on,” he offered.

  Danstu glanced back at the stack of computers on his desk. “I’m not going to be able to concentrate on work until I hear back. Yes, I think that would be nice. What time?”

  “Meet me at my place in three hours. That way I have enough time to start on this statue project,” he offered.

  Another knock sent Lo
lum to answer the door while Danstu continued to stare out the window. To his amusement, Cidele was at the door. “Don’t, not right now.”

  “But—“

  “The Chisarel agreed to have late-meal with us at my place, three hours from now. Don’t be late,” he warned his daughter, shooing her out the door before she had the chance to enter.

  SEVENTEEN

  In the arena the next day, Sedom had one of the best workouts in her life. She spent all her pent up anger, all her frustrations against the Lord for leaving her. No punishment was given by the Cassaus and it seemed the whole ordeal about Renca and his women had been forgotten. Sedom didn’t understand exactly what transpired the day before, but she couldn’t help but feel she had been set-up. The only thing Sedom did notice was the absence of Lord Wyice and the amount of guards that usually guarded her had been doubled.

  As she thought about how she hadn’t seen Lord Wyice yet, he suddenly appeared on the sidelines. Her eyes focused on the Lord, even though he was some distance away. For some reason she couldn’t help but notice him. It was as if there was some deep attraction she felt towards him, a need to watch him even though she hated every ounce of his being.

  She chose a long sword whose blade was neither thick nor thin, and began exercising her shoulder. It was still tender, but she knew she had to keep the muscles loose if she ever wanted to use it in battle again.

  She swung her arm, hearing it snap. She dropped her sword, clutching onto her upper arm. Tears welled in her eyes. The pain was so intense it forced her to her knees.

  She felt a tender hand on her good shoulder and the tickle of a black cape breeze passed her bare leg. She looked up to her left to find Lord Wyice kneeling beside her.

  “Are you alright?” he asked with genuine concern.

  Sedom nodded, closing her eyes to keep back the tears of pain. “Yes, I’m fine, Lord. I just… need a moment,” she gulped back her need to vomit, the pain in her arm so intense it caused hot chills to run up her spine.

  “You’re not fine,” he said sternly. He snapped his fingers with a raised hand. “Get me a medic,” he demanded. Sedom could feel his hand on her hand as she clutched her shoulder. “Terrill put you through hell, didn’t he?” he asked in a soothing voice.

  Sedom shook her head. “I dropped my guard. I shouldn’t have. I knew better,” she admitted.

  “And I forced you into battle last night to kill Renca when you should have been healing,” he muttered.

  Sedom’s eyes grew enraged. “I owe you for that,” she seethed. “Those women didn’t deserve—”

  “As soon as you destroyed Renca, their lives were as good as over. They would have been sold as concubines or worse. Besides, I gave you what you wanted,” he warned.

  “You left me for dead,” she gulped back. She lowered her chin to her chest, seething and shaking uncontrollably.

  A doctor and two others hurried out to the training room floor. Carefully, Lord Wyice lowered her to the dusty ground. “Tend to her arm then bring her to my quarters where she can rest properly,” he ordered. He squeezed her hand tenderly. “I’ll take care of you,” he whispered.

  She felt her body lifted onto a cot, then once again onto an exam table.

  “What did you do, Cantro?” Cesserin questioned as he examined her arm. “I need pictures of this.”

  As the doctor was readying his equipment to take images of Sedom’s arm, Lord Wyice’s assistant, Waar, walked into the room. He stood off to the side for a moment while the doctor took the images.

  When the doctor was finished, Waar came forward. “How is she?” he asked the doctor.

  The doctor hesitated to answer while he looked over her images on a computer pad. “Exactly what I said would happen. Her bone’s crushed. I will have to operate after the swelling has dissipated.” He turned to Sedom, pressing an air syringe to her arm. The pain dulled, but she could no longer move her arm.

  Panic filled Sedom’s expression. “It’s only temporary,” Cesserin assured as he wrapped her arm again. Carefully he tucked the arm into a white sling. “Three weeks and I’m serious,” he demanded. He turned to Waar. “I mean it. Tell your Lord she has no place fighting until that arm is healed or he’ll have a very expensive corpse. Her injury can and will kill her if infection sets in.” He pressed another syringe to her neck. “This is a mild sedative that will help her with her muscle pain. She needs bed rest and good food. None of these enhancements Terrill had her taking,” he said.

  “He has no intention of releasing her back in the arena,” Waar stated, perking Sedom’s attention. What did Lord Wyice have in mind for her if not fighting in the arena? “Is she clear to leave? The Lord wants her to join him for late-meal,” he explained.

  Doctor Cesserin moved aside to allow Sedom to hop off the table.

  Waar looked directly into Sedom’s eyes. “Can I trust you will conduct yourself civilly or do I need restraints?” he asked, his words slightly jittery from his nervousness.

  Sedom looked back at him sternly then lifted the arm in the sling. “Just take me to your Lord.” She walked from the room before he had an opportunity to respond.

  Waar hurried beside Sedom, smirking amused. “You’re not used to being a slave, are you?” he questioned.

  Sedom shook her head, her eyes pointed forward with one direction in mind. “No. I was not born a slave. I will not die as one either,” she said.

  “Bold words,” he said.

  “Truthful,” she claimed. “You are the cousin of the Cassaus. Why work for Lord Wyice?” she asked as they paused at a large set of double doors.

  He turned to her, grinning so wide the balls of his cheeks nearly covered his eyes. “Ask me again sometime when we are friends,” he offered. “This way,” he said, guiding her through the doors.

  The doors opened to reveal a massive hall with a ceiling that towered four stories. The ceiling was a massive dome decorated with paintings of clouds.

  Waar motioned to a sitting area off to the side. “Feel free to relax. Lord Wyice will be with you shortly. Would you like something to drink? Some colbes perhaps?”

  Sedom took Waar by the arm before he could leave. “Aren’t you concerned with me being here?” she asked.

  Waar’s hazel eyes gazed down to the marks on her arm. “Yes, but you said you’d conduct yourself peacefully. I’m a man who takes people at their word. If you do attack, you will be punished. Besides, the doctor gave you a tranquilizer and you only have one arm that’s of any use,” he pointed out.

  Was he joking? “Conduct yourself peacefully or be punished?” she repeated while laughing. She stepped closer to him, looking the man in his worried eyes. “I live in a cage for a reason,” she hissed. She began circling him, causing the man to stammer slightly. “You need practice. Serving Lord Wyice has made you soft,” she said with a grin. “I may be relaxed and only have the use of one arm, but I can still rip off your head,” she warned.

  A red tinge came to Waar’s cheeks. “You’re the first game player Lord Wyice has ever invited to our chambers,” he admitted.

  “First?” she thought. That was a nice advantage. “Why am I here?” she asked. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Lord Wyice entering the room. “And does your Lord realize what he purchased?”

  Lord Wyice paused and watched Sedom from afar. “I have purchased the best game player to ever mark on the field. Syrok,” he said then gave her a nod.

  “Lord Wyice,” she hissed with clenched teeth. “You mind dead fool.” Sedom walked directly over to Lord Wyice and punched him in the face before his guards had an opportunity to react. “Thank you for yesterday,” she screamed out.

  Several armed guards surrounded Sedom, forcing her to her knees before the Lord. “Unhand me!”

  Lord Wyice shook off the blow, turning to her with heated eyes. “How? I thought…” he stammered. He took a firm hold on her shoulders, squeezing them hard enough to bruise.

  Sedom cried out, her mouth open to s
cream. She could feel his fingers dig into her tender flesh, her crushed bone splintering under his grasp.

  “You were given an order,” he said with a tense voice. Sedom attempted to fight her way free, only to have Lord Wyice grab her throat. “It was a set-up,” he barked into her ear. “You were never in any danger. I wouldn’t allow it for the amount of money I paid for you. The Cassaus wanted Renca dead,” he whispered into her ear. “You were the ideal choice for the job. Now calm down before you injure yourself further.”

  She broke free of Lord Wyice's hold with an elbow to his kneecap. Free of his grasp, she ran to the door only to be caught by Waar, who tripped her as he grabbed hold of her legs.

  Sedom fell to the floor, inches from the hallway, crushing her arm under her bodyweight. The bone in her arm cracked, the sound echoing throughout the hall. She screamed out. The pressure of her body shifting snapped the bone of her left arm again, breaking yet another piece of her bone. Icy-hot pain shot through her neck and into her skull, causing her mind to momentarily black out. Her forehead rested on the cold white marbled floor as the swirling static dissipated from her eyes.

  “Nom’kel, divosis ensourous,” she whimpered.

  Several guards subdued Sedom, lifting her to her feet. Sedom bent forward, cupping her arm in agony. The pain was so intense that it caused bile to fly from her lips. She fell to her knees, holding tight to her arm. She closed her eyes, rocking her body.

  Waar stood over Sedom, looking down at her. “Stupid girl. Serves you right,” Waar shouted. “Is this what they taught you in the arena?” he screamed for an answer. “You never strike a Lord! NEVER!” he continued on as if he were more upset than Lord Wyice himself.

  “Enough!” Lord Wyice roared at Waar. He walked to Waar's side and stood over Sedom. “How much pain do you want to endure? If you’re truly masochistic, I can oblige you,” he asked Sedom while he felt his cheek. Blood ran down his cheek as he attempted to wipe it away.