Seized: Trek Mi Q'an Book 1.5

by Jaid Black

  She could only whimper when, not even a minute later, another wild pack of hungry little guys went diving under the covers.

  Chapter 6

  Meanwhile, in the mining pits of the green moon Ti Q’won…

  “In you go! The lot of you! Barot—get them in the bedamned tunnel anon!”

  Barot hesitated. “They’ve had no food or drink for mayhap two days, sir. They might cause themselves an injury that—”

  The mine-master narrowed his eyes at the overseer. “Did I ask your council?” he hissed.

  The overseer swallowed roughly. “Nay. But—”

  “Nay is the correct answer here!” The mine-master grabbed the younger male by the scruff of the neck. The crystal-gold arm bangle he wore tightened against the bulge of his bicep. His fetid breath wafted into the overseer’s nostrils. “Mayhap you would like to trade places with one of the giant lackwits working the pits?”

  “Nay, sir,” Barot breathed out, his eyes wide. “I’ve a family to think of, sir.”

  “Then do as you are told.” The mine-master shoved the overseer away from him. “We’ve ten moon-risings left to fill the king’s order for crystal silius,” he barked. “If I can’t fill it he’ll go to another mine for it.” His nostrils flared. “Get those retards down there to move—anon!”

  Barot inclined his head, then turned on his heel to see to the depraved task. He hated working the pits. More specifically, he hated working for Master Troz. Never had a viler male lived. Or a viler master. Had the bedamned Troz not squandered away the last reserve of crystal silius they’d located, he wouldn’t be in a bind now to come up with fifty barrels of the stuff for the king’s weaponry craftsmen.

  But Troz had insisted the overtired and underfed workers proceed into the underground cavern the precious liquid gel had been found in and mine it straight through into the next moon-rising. One of the workers, exhausted and malnourished, had lost his balance and fallen into a pit of the boiling compound. During his horrific plummet downwards he crashed first into one of the delicate walls, causing the entire chamber to crumble and explode.

  Such was how Troz had lost his last overseer and fifteen of his miners—not that the repugnant man had cared beyond the fact that the crystal silius had become unstable and had therefore been lost in the explosion with the retarded workers.

  Leastways, it wasn’t easy to find mine workers of crystal silius. Such a job was notoriously risky and associated with poor working conditions and early death. The liquid gel was highly unstable and given to exploding without notice. So mine-masters tended to acquire the workers in the most disgusting, irreprehensible manner imaginable—they bought them.

  In a world where only the strongest of body and most cunning of mind prevailed, poor families were all too quick to unburden themselves of the males of their clan who were unlikely to succeed in the survival of the fittest. And so ‘twas that mine-masters were quick to offer credits for the strongest of the dim-witted males, realizing as they did that they could work them to their deaths and nary a soul would care let alone report them to the high lords for the illegal goings-on.

  Barot’s jaw clenched as he strode toward the tired and hungry group of brawny, mentally dim workers. He would that he could cast Troz into a boiling pit of crystal silius himself rather than force twenty exhausted, malnourished men into the pits to mine.

  He came to a stop before the assembled workers. A giant of a male named Myko, who was mayhap the most severely retarded of the workers, smiled fully at the overseer, his innocence so tangible as to be painful to the overseer. Barot guilty glanced away, hating his bedamned job. These men were mayhap dimwitted, yet still they were men.

  He took a deep breath, blinking rapidly before turning back to the workers. Careful to keep his voice low, Barot said to them, “’Tis sorry I am to report that you shan’t be fed and rested until the next moon-rising.” When Myko only continued to smile, he sighed. “I fear that you must go back into the pits lest the master punish you more severely. All of you.”

  A seventeen-year-old male who rarely spoke worked his mouth up and down as though he was preparing to say something. The male was the largest of the entire crew, a giant standing close to eight feet in height and weighing several hundred pounds of solid muscle. He had survived the crystal silius pits for nigh unto ten Yessat years, a further testament to his incredible strength when most workers never lived past three. Barot knew that the seventeen-year-old had difficulty with speech, so he didn’t push him to talk afore he was ready.

  “I will g-go in M-Myko’s s-staid,” the seventeen-year-old giant said softly. “H-He is n-nigh unto ready to c-collapse.”

  Barot was given no time to reply for a ten-pronged whip lashed down on the giant’s back just then, causing the seventeen-year-old to fall to the ground. The giant didn’t protest the beating he was to receive at Troz’s hands, having learned from past experience ‘twas best to simply take it.

  “You dare to tell me who will and will not work the mines, retard!” Troz spat out as the ten-pronged whip lashed down on the giant’s back.

  Barot winced. He closed his eyes briefly and said a prayer to the goddess as the whip lashed down a third time.

  “I’ve no need of a dim-witted retard telling me how to master my own bedamned mines!”

  The whip lashed down a fourth time. A fifth. Six. Seven. Eight…

  The glow of the giant’s eyes dimmed, indicating he was close to unconsciousness. His breathing was sporadic. Blood dripped from gaping wounds in his back. Yet still he did not whimper.

  Barot’s hand found his zykif. One more lash and Troz was a dead man. He cared not what the fates did to him at this point. He could stomach the sickening scene no longer.

  Troz lifted his hand to strike a final time. Barot pulled out his zykif and aimed it at the back of his skull.

  “I’ve grown tired of you and your dim-witted speech!” Troz bellowed as his arm rose in a strike meant to kill instead of maim. “I—”

  The laser sound of a discharging zykif permeated the cavern, a sound that caused Barot’s breath to intake for he had not fired yet. Troz’s eyes widened as he fell to the ground, dead only seconds after he hit it. Barot spun around on his heel and came face to face with…

  “Lord Q’an Ri,” he murmured.

  Jek Q’an Ri strode into the underground chamber, his pace brisk. “I came as soon as I received word. My sire is removed to Sand City, as am I for my training under the emperor’s command, which is why it took so long to receive your summons.”

  Barot closed his eyes briefly, relieved. “Thank the goddess,” he muttered. He opened his eyes and swiped the sweat at his brow. “I’m grateful you received it in time.”

  “As am I. But mayhap you should have informed the high lord of this sector rather than waiting on me.”

  “I didn’t know who could be trusted, milord. Leastways, I knew I could trust you.”

  Given the trouble with insurrectionists ever afoot, Jek must have accepted that answer and realized the truth it held, for he said no more.

  The high lord came down on his knee and examined the broken giant before him. His nostrils flared. “Have this male removed to the palace of Ti Q’won in posthaste. Since you are now master here, I also order you to have the other workers bathed, fed, and rested.” His jaw clenched. “This is nigh unto disgusting! Do you mean to tell me this is usual for a crystal silius mine? Leastways, ‘tis what you eluded at in your missive,” he said without glancing back.

  “I fear ‘tis true,” Barot sighed. “Never would I have believed such cruelty to be commonplace had I not seen it with my own eyes.” He hesitated. “Mayhap I should send him to a healing dune. I shouldn’t desire to inconvenience King Dak—”

  “Never would my cousin think to turn him away.” Jek gave his full attention back to the giant. He was fading in and out of consciousness, the seventeen-year-old’s eyes as weak as his pulse. “I shall carry you myself,” he murmured. “You require aid the
soonest.”

  The giant stirred a bit, the high lord’s words at last permeating. He was weak, Jek thought. Frighteningly close to death.

  “I’m going to lift you up,” Jek said quietly. “It will hurt. But I need you to keep your eyes open. Do not fade into the blackness again, my friend.”

  It took an extreme amount of energy to do it, but the giant managed to nod. His body was so broken and so bloody Barot worried the high lord would not be able to get him to help in time.

  “What is your name?” Jek asked the giant as he prepared to lift him into his arms. “By what should I call you by?”

  Barot knew the high lord was trying to keep the giant awake. Every time he slipped into unconsciousness he quickened toward death, toward the Rah.

  The giant could barely open his eyes, yet from somewhere did he find the strength to do it. “My n-name is…” he said weakly, his voice a whisper.

  “Aye?”

  “Yar’at.” His eyes found the high lord’s. “My n-name is Yar’at.”

  Chapter 7

  The next morning, Dak chuckled as he carried Geris back to the gastrolight cruiser. His poor wench was nigh unto exhausted, her wee body limp in his arms. “Are you well, ty’ka?” he asked on a grin. “Or have you the need of being brought to your woman’s joy again?”

  Geris’s eyes, which had looked perpetually crossed since she’d awakened, rolled back into her head on a half whimper half groan. “Nyo nyoooooo nyooomph.”

  A dimple popped out on his cheek. She kept mumbling incoherently when spoken to, sounding the frothing-mouthed lunatic, but otherwise spoke not a meaningful word.

  ‘Twas mayhap best this way, he mused. For a certainty she tended toward the heeka-beast side whilst her wits were about her. He smiled fully, deciding to let his nee’ka sleep undisturbed when he got her into the gastrolight cruiser, for she’d need her energy in preparation for the joining.

  Dak cradled her in his massive arms, both tenderly and possessively. ‘Twas for a certainty he could not wait to remove himself to Tryston. Every moon-rising he laid beside Geris unable to join with her was more torturous than words could say. It took perseverance and strength of will he had never before had to exert. Leastways not in this fashion.

  But soon, he thought, soon she would be all his. And then she wouldn’t think to leave him again.

  He knew the thought had to have crossed her mind a time or two, which hurt him more than he’d believed it possible for another being to injure him. Her emotions screamed for normalcy, for the desire to go back to all that she knew. It was mayhap only the hope of seeing Kyra again that kept her spirit in tact.

  His nostrils flared. Nay. ‘Twas not entirely true. He was fair certain that she was growing to have a care for him. Even if she’d never said the words to him. Leastways, he hoped that to be the case.

  Because he was already in love with her.

  In love with her in a way no male of her species could ever understand or come close to emulating. In love with her in a way that would cause him to literally die of grief if ever they were separated by the fates.

  He could but hope that some day his bride would feel the same toward him.

  It had been but five days. He allowed that she deserved a wee bit of time to settle into the way of things.

  Dak sighed. He prayed to the goddess she would settle in quickly. If her woman’s senses had been offended by the paltry goings-on of Tojo, he could but imagine the reaction she’d have to Tryston and its hedonistic ways.

  * * * * *

  “I cannot take any more surprises right now!” Geris wailed, stomping off to the other side of the bedchamber. “I am not—repeat not—leaving this ship again until we get to Kyra!”

  “’Tis but a small duty I must see to!” Dak bellowed. His eyes narrowed into slits. “’Twill take but one moon-rising for me to hand deliver the missive to the lesser king and then we will set off for Sand City. You will see her in less than two days!”

  “Dak,” she said forlornly. Geris took a deep breath and glanced away. She could tell that he was tired of hearing about how much she wanted to get to Kyra. She supposed he wanted her to be eager to be with him instead. Good grief, what a situation.

  Truth be told, she did enjoy his company. She enjoyed it so much that it frightened her. But the closeness had come too fast and too furiously to a woman who for all intent and purposes had once possessed ice where her heart should have been. At least where anyone except for Kyra and Kara were concerned.

  Especially where men were concerned.

  From a young age Geris had learned not to trust others, not to give them a chance to hurt her…or leave her. She didn’t believe Dak would ever purposely do that—she truly didn’t—yet she also didn’t know how to explain to him that she needed some time in solitude to collect her thoughts and feelings.

  The entire situation was overwhelming in the extreme. Having been brought to climax by her husband, five pugmuffs—sweet Jesus she’d never admit that to anyone!—and hoards of Rustians, only added to the feeling of panic quickly engulfing her. Good lord, her eyes had uncrossed only an hour ago!

  Geris clamped a hand to her forehead and groaned. “I think I’m coming down with a fever.”

  Dak grunted. “Nay, wench. You are coming down with thoughts of bedeviling me is what you are coming down with. If you continue thusly,” he sniffed, “’twill be grounded you are from your woman’s joy.”

  Her lips pinched together in a glower. “That’s not much of a threat considering that I’ve just now recovered from the last bout!”

  He harrumped, ignoring that. “You will come with me, pani, and that is that.” His massive arms crossed over his equally massive chest. “I will listen to your overtures no more.”

  “When do you ever listen to them?” she ground out, her chin thrusting up. Her teeth gritted further when she realized she was making eye contact with nothing but his abdomen. Arrg! She huffed as she backed up a step, then re-thrust her chin up so he could see the gesture. “I don’t think you ever listen to them! In fact, I don’t think you even give a damn about me and what I need! It’s always about you!”

  His nostrils flared. “You take this,” he murmured, his words soft and even spaced, “too far.”

  “Oh do I?” she raged, irritated. “Do I really now, Your Highness”—she spat out the word like an epitaph. “I think the problem is that I’ve been in a daze this past week and therefore haven’t had my wits about me to go far enough!”

  Dak rolled his eyes. “You not go far enough. Now there is the bedamned day! I shall send missives to the four corners of the kingdom when at last it comes to pass!”

  Her spine straightened indignantly. “I didn’t want to take my clothes off on Tojo, but did you listen? Never!” Her nostrils flared to wicked proportions. “I didn’t want those butthead people licking on me either, but did you care? Of course not!” Her jaw clenched. “I didn’t want those Rustians treating my body like the drive-thru window at McDonalds, but did you stop them? Never! I think that—”

  “Silence!” he roared, his hand slashing through the air. “Queen or no, you could have been arrested and jailed for wearing clothing on Tojo! And I told you already about how they greet new brides!”

  “I don’t like your world,” Geris hissed, her eyes narrowing. “And I refuse to go anywhere else with you except to Kyra.”

  She felt a tremor of sadness pass through him, but steeled herself against it. She would not be swayed. Not for any reason. Enough was enough and her limits had definitely been reached and surpassed days ago.

  “Geris…”

  “No,” she said firmly, her gaze locking with his. “You go. I am staying here where nothing new is going to pop out at me.” She frowned. “Or decide to make a meal of me.”

  His jaw tightened.

  “My mind,” she said softly, “is not changing. If you take me, it will be kicking and screaming the entire time.”

  “I am left with no choice b
ut to deliver this missive,” he ground out, his jugular bulging. “Which means you must accompany me into the sector.”

  “No.”

  He sighed as he absently ran a hand through his golden blonde hair. “Nee’ka, the trek will last mayhap several hours. I shan’t return until the next moon-rising. ‘Tis for a certainty you must accompany me.”

  “No,” she said quietly, but in a tone that broached no argument. “You go on without me, Dak. I want to be alone tonight.”

  His body stilled. “I see,” he whispered.

  Geris flinched as if she’d been physically lashed out at. Damn it! She didn’t want to hurt him but she really needed some time alone. She straightened her shoulders and made eye contact once more. “I’m going back to bed now. You go do what you need to do. I’m staying here.”

  Dak looked away. He was quiet for a long moment, but finally relented with a nod. “If being without me is what makes you content then I shall endeavor to make myself scarce more oft.”

  Geris closed her eyes briefly, sighing as her husband walked away.

  * * * * *

  The next two days and nights would prove to be the longest, and loneliest, of Geris’s life. They would also prove to be the guiltiest. She knew Dak was pining away for her, knew too he was feeling hurt by the perceived rejection. It only added to her already gloomy mood.

  She even missed her “woman’s joy”, damn it! Her teeth gnashed together as she admitted that Dak’s punishment was working. She missed the way he touched her, the way he held her…

  She sighed. She missed everything.

  A week ago when Dak had explained to her about how life worked in Trek Mi Q’an, about Sacred Mates and the like, she hadn’t precisely believed every word he’d uttered as though it was the gospel truth. It seemed a bit strange to think that a prolonged physical separation could make a person so depressed that they couldn’t sleep or eat. Yet that is exactly what had happened to her.

  If Geris had to recount how she was feeling to a fellow earthling, she wasn’t convinced that she could explain the sensations in a way that would make sense. It was like taking the blackest, most grueling day of your life and magnifying it a hundredfold. It was more painful than words could express—both physically and emotionally.