I’m startled that I can understand his speech. Chosi twitches her wrist, and I glance down at the silver cuff gleaming against her pale skin. Of course—a commtrans must be embedded in the cuff. “I’m feeling a bit dirty, actually,” Chosi says, her voice deceptively light. “Don’t suppose I could get a shower?”
The Yalten pauses, and amusement fills him for a heartbeat before it’s gone. “No, leech. You can’t. Not until we reach the auctions.”
Without another word, he checks our shackles, the electric field separating us, and then moves on to the next pair of Eleyi.
-There are so many children,- I say, depression filling me.
I know why. The younger we are when Taken, the easier it is to control us, to mold us into what they want.
It’s the curse of our people—the psychic touch that we hadn’t known to keep to ourselves when Others landed on Eleyiar hundreds of years earlier. Eleyiar was settled centuries ago, by humans fleeing a dying Earth. After we settled Eleyiar, we were forgotten for centuries, as Earth fought to survive, and the galaxies became interwoven. I don’t know why they came back—maybe it was just something that eventually had to happen—but they did. They found Eleyi, my people—descendants of human settlers who had been changed by time and the psychic planet. Peaceful winged telepaths who didn’t know to hide our gifts.
I look around again at all the children. How will we survive this? How will they? We don’t go off-world. Eleyi are tied too closely to our roots, to the great trees themselves, to venture off-planet often.
And it isn’t safe. I shiver as the slavers’ words echo again. The auction houses—and no one on Eleyiar will lift a finger to save us. It would do no good if they tried.
Chosi’le
Anger keeps me going.
When Juhan is awake, I try to act like none of this touches me. Like I’m not furious. And he believes me, for the most part. But when he sleeps, collapsing into dreams that I won’t touch, I let the rage sweep over me.
The air is thick with the smell of piss, vomit, and rank body odor. And fear. So much fear. I wonder how many of the children were able to psychically reach the sentries when they were Taken, how many were able to tell someone what had happened.
It can’t be many. They are too young, in the first blush of their telepathic ability, and that makes it virtually impossible to touch the mind of someone far away. They haven’t been trained yet.
How do the sentries live with themselves, bringing back daily tallies of the Taken?
The Yalten leave us alone most of the time, and we glide through the abyss of space lost in fear and silence. I drift on dreams of killing the slavers. Even hell can become monotonous, and as time passes with no way to measure it, I begin to track time by how often they check our restraints.
After what I gauge to be a sevenday, they come in force. A horde of Yalten swarms the hold, splitting the cavernous space almost down the middle. For the first time, the electric fields are down and we are able to touch. Juhan scrambles to me, and I can feel his relief pulsing against my mental shields as he hugs me. His heartbeat is a steady drum under my ear, and for just a moment, the anger recedes. I can see the relief in my people’s eyes, feel it streaming through the air. And that scares me. In my brother’s arms, I tense, waiting.
The horde is ignored as the children huddle together, and I watch them as they swarm in, bee-lining for my brother. Juhan’tr is pulled roughly to his feet, despite his lack of resistance, ripped away from me. My brother will not abandon his peaceful ways, even now. A slaver jerks me to my feet, and Juhan’s eyes narrow an instant before I swing out wildly, hitting the Yalten’s face with a dull crunch. I shiver as they all seem to go still and then a soft voice, warm and feminine, says from above us, “Him first. And then her.”
-Chosi!- he shouts, and I bite my lip, the cut breaking open as I fight against the Yalten holding me. They drag us to one end of the hold, the Taken crawling across the rough grating to get out of the way. I can hear the soft hiss of the thin, unbreakable chains, even as I scream and curse. It’s a fight I’ve lost before it begins, and I watch them as they throw Juhan onto a table. I scream out loud as I see the laser. It’s glowing red, and the tip shimmers with heat.
Juhan’s eyes meet mine. -Don’t look,- he whispers.
I shake my head, fiercely and feel a spike of amused approval from above me. Distantly, I wonder who she is, the disembodied voice that singled us out.
A thick smell fills the hold, above the fear and rancid odor of unwashed bodies. The smell of burnt hair and skin, sticky and horrible. Juhan screams, high and piercing. Inside me, something angry jerks in response to his suffering and I yank free of the Yalten holding me. I hear my wing rip and feel a sharp slash of pain, but it’s drowned out by my brother’s agony. Electricity springs to life, separating Juhan from the rest of the hold before I can touch him, and I slam my fists into the invisible field, knowing it won’t help. I batter myself on it, lashing out at anyone who comes close to me. I slam against the shield until I’m twitching, my whole body shaking with electricity. Through my hair, I see my brother. Juhan’tr is curled on his side, but I can’t miss it. The bloody burn on his thigh, a long number that smokes lightly in the harsh light of the alien ship.
They’ve branded my brother.
The Yalten’s hands tighten on my shoulders, and he leans down to whisper, “If you learned to leash your emotions, this could be easier. We aren’t cruel.”
I choke on the bitter laughter rising in my throat. What does he think they are, if not cruel? When the slavers reach for me, I don’t fight. For the first time, I’m too numb—and some tiny part of me thinks I deserve this. I clench my teeth as they hold me down. My breath catches as they reach for the laser, and I brace myself, expecting the pain.
It’s worse than I can imagine. Fire, liquid hot, fills my veins. Pain explodes in my vision, screaming through my body. I rear back in the grip of the slavers, fighting them, almost breaking free. I hear a muffled curse. Rapid footsteps, and then something slams into my head, and I fall into blessed oblivion.
Chapter 3
Juhan’tr
THE HOLD SMELLS LIKE burnt flesh and singed hair. Most of the recently branded sleep, an exhausted stupor brought on by fear and pain. A few Yalten patrol the edge of the hold, absently prodding Eleyan out of their way.
Chosi is rigid next to me, her back straight. Her eyes are wide, staring at the empty ceiling, wings tattered, oozing pus from the rip. It worries me almost as much as the blankness of her psyche.
I feel a curiosity that is different, unfamiliar in the mass of Eleyi psyches, and I look up, slowly searching. We need to avoid attention, and I hope Chosi is too lost in thought to notice someone watching us.
A Yalten is staring at us, its black eyes bright and observant. It makes me want to tense, flee, anything to avoid that stare. I shift, looking down. Chosi sits up, staring at the slaver. His eyes drop to her, and he leers.
Interest from the normally detatched Yalten is unusual. And unnerving.
-Chos? What’s happening?- I ask, nervously.
She doesn’t answer me directly. “The children need food,” she snaps at the slaver. “And exercise.”
The slaver smiles, a slow grin that makes my skin crawl. “You can hardly make demands, leech.”
“I have a name.”
“No,” he drawls, prodding the brand just beginning to scab on her thigh. She hisses in pain and amusement flickers across his aura. “You have a number.” He leans down, invading her space, and she flinches against me as he whispers, “Slave.”
She spits, and rage fills him. He lashes out, catching her by the throat and squeezing. She smiles as he drags her closer, away from me. “I will enjoy watching you break, leech.”
A low murmur filters through the hold, and I shiver as the disembodied female voice echoes around us. “Enough, Xtan.”
The slaver drops my sister like he’s been burned, his eyes flicking up to the ceiling.
Chosi’s laughing as she coughs, and rage pours through Xtan.
“Come here,” the voice commands, and Xtan pivots, stalking away stiffly.
Chosi rolls to her knees and hacks, dragging in a deep breath as she chuckles.
“What are you doing?” I ask, and her eyes dart to me, startled.
I almost never speak to her. But now, fear and confusion have me flustered enough to make it necessary.
-I don’t like him,- she says, shrugging.
“You don’t have to like him, Chosi’le. You have to survive. Angering the slavers isn’t the best way to do that.”
She snorts, and her voice is so full of bitterness, it doesn’t take a psychic to feel it. “Why? What’s waiting for us, Juhan? Slavery, and an unending succession of humiliations? Why survive for that? I can’t live like that, brother.”
She doesn’t want an answer. Instead, she rolls away from me, curling around one of the children. Leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Chosi’le
I’m waiting for Xtan to return.
It doesn’t occur to me that he might not, that he’ll forget the slight—especially since it was public. Waiting makes me tense, edgy. Eventually I roll away from the Eleyi child, and stare at the ceiling again. I wonder who she is, the one with the voice that so easily stopped Xtan.
I wonder what she’ll do to me, now that I’ve defied one of her slavers. My lip curls in a bitter smile—there’s nothing she can do that is worse than this, is there?
They’re feeding us now, a thick, tasteless gruel with chunks of something unidentifiable and gritty with supplements. It’s keeping us healthy, and some of the younger children have perked up, and put on weight in the two weeks since the meals increased. I’m not so sure that’s a good thing. The only thing that awaits any of us is the auction houses—and slaves fetch a higher price if they don’t look like they are on death’s doorstep.
Behind me, Juhan stirs. I feel the familiar feathery touch of his mind, and then the sadness that fills his thoughts when I ignore him.
How long before his anger comes? Before he realizes if it weren’t for me, we’d be still in the trees, still home with our parents—still safe?
I shiver as fear makes my stomach roil with anxiety. It is easier to be angry.
-I know you can hear me,- my brother says.
I’m so tired of his constant hammering. Why can’t he leave me alone?
-Do you think Mother and Father know?-
The mental image of our parents swims in my memory, summoned involuntarily by my brother. Mother, with her constant worry and hard eyes and wings that seemed to shadow every part of my life. Her voice, so sharp and fierce, was never as fierce as when she was defending us, never too fierce to answer our questions. She taught me to fight, to question our way of life, to push the boundaries the Elders imposed. She never made me feel like less because I didn’t embrace the peaceful life that marked our people.
What will she do without her only children?
And Papa—losing us both will kill him, even if Juhan’tr refuses to believe that. I blink hard. -They know.-
Juhan pauses, startled that I’ve responded. -Will they come for us?-
-Papa is a scribe,- I say, too irritated to cushion the truth. It is past time for him to face it. -Even our ambassadors can’t buy back Eleyi. What do you think a scribe is going to be able to do?-
He stares at me, and I can feel the hurt in his psyche. -He’ll come for you,- he insists.
I want him to be right. I want there to be some hope for us. But I know the truth that Mother drilled into us.
Eleyi are too valuable. The Others need us too much as slaves—to spy, to serve as advance bodyguards, to pick out the truth in another’s thoughts. An Eleyi whose wings have been cut off can pass as human, and leech anything its owner needs.
Others never let Eleyi buy each other back. No one is coming to rescue us.
Juhan’tr
The hold is dark when it happens.
All around us, the Eleyi children are sleeping—I’m beginning to suspect the food is drugged to keep them docile.
Chosi’le is humming tunelessly, her eyes on the ceiling. -What’s up there?- she asks, her tone deceptively mild. A flicker of alarm seeps through me, and I wonder if the drugs are having a negative influence. My sister is never mild.
-Nothing good,- I say, staring at the blinking red light.
Both of us freeze when it goes out, leaving the hold in utter darkness. Anticipation spikes in her, filling the thread that ties us. I stiffen, and a small horde of Yalten descends on us.
Two pin me to the wall, and Xtan steps out of the shadows. Chosi lunges at him, and he backhands her. She lets out a yelp as she falls against the side of the hold. He looks at her, his face grim. “I said I would enjoy watching you break.”
He nods, and two more Yalten flank him, holding clubs. I struggle, terror flooding through me. “No!” I scream, pulling against the arms restraining me.
Chosi’le tosses her head, throwing her bangs out of her eyes. “I’ll enjoy gutting your worthless corpse when I kill you,” she spits, and all of the Yalten pause for a moment. I can feel their surprise at the violence from her—from any Eleyi. “Every bruise you leave on me, every cut, will be a broken bone on you.”
Xtan smiles, leaning down toward her. “You? I won’t touch you.”
It takes a moment for that to register, and I feel a rush of relief when I understand.
The first blow takes me in my ribs, and my vision fuzzes. I hear Chosi shriek, hear a scrabble of feet before the thud of a fist hitting her stomach. Then the clubs slam into me. I bite down hard on my lip, choking on a scream. Something gives in my chest—a rib, I think—and I can’t contain a groan.
“Stop, stop, please, stop!”
She’s screaming, hysterical, begging. Another blow slams into my temple, and stars spin in my vision. For a moment, the blows stop, and I can hear Xtan above me as my sister screams, even though my vision is too blurry to see him.
“No,” he whispers to my twin. Anger and helplessness flood her psyche and she claws at his face before the other slavers pull her back.
And then the beating really begins.
Chosi’le
When they finally leave, I’m shaking, furious sobs wracking my body. I crawl to him, my stomach turning. His face is perfect, untouched, but the aura wrapped around him is so fragile and shattered I’m afraid to touch it. I cradle his head in my lap. An Eleyi—one of the older females—scoots over to us, and examines him with brisk efficiency. Juhan’s breathing is weak against my face, chilling my tears. I need to ask, and can’t bring myself to. We must be close to the auction houses, and I can’t face what’s coming without my brother. I take the coward’s way out and let the question tingle across my psyche, impossible to ignore.
The Eleyi looks at me, relief flicking through her. -He’ll live. They were surprisingly careful. One cracked rib, and plenty of bruises. Maybe a concussion.-
I gasp with relief and fall onto him, shaking.
Xtan had wanted to break me. Wanted to stop my small acts of defiance. And I had thought he’d attack me—I’d been prepared for it.
I never dreamed he’d attack my brother. But nothing, nothing, could break me more successfully.
Juhan is unconscious now, his breathing evening a little. The Eleyi slides back to her tiny spot of ground, and I send a flash of gratitude at her. She hesitates, and softly, -You provoke him. Intentionally.-
I stare at her, anger filling me.
-You put us all at risk. This is a horrible situation. But it’s all we have—do us a favor and accept it.- Her presence flares with anger and I lean toward her.
-I’m not going to lie back and accept this,- I snap. -I can’t.-
Her eyes are wide and sad as she watches me. –Then you kill us all.- she says before she slips away and I am left in the dark with my limp, battered brother and my anger.
Chapter 4
J
uhan’tr
EVERY INCH OF ME hurts when I wake. I muffle a groan as I sit up, and fire licks through my chest. I feel a soft touch of concern. -Not a good idea to move,- Chosi’le warns, pulling me back down.
- Now you tell me.- I twist a little, looking at her. Dried tears have left tracks on her cheeks, and I reach up, touching them softly as she flinches away.
-Stop it,- she says, but there is no heat behind her words, and I push a little at her mental walls, with just a hint of my strength. She glares at me, shoving her mental walls higher.
She could never keep me out, if I wanted in. But we both know I won’t push her.
-Why are you shutting me out?- I try to keep the question light, my hurt out of it, but from the way her psyche goes bitter, I don’t succeed.
She leans away from me—as much as possible, while I’m still leaning against her legs. -Why not? You haven’t gotten around to it, but eventually you’ll blame me for this.-
I stare at her in silence, letting her words play through my head. That last morning at home flashes in my mind—my studies, Mother leaving, Chosi laughing and bored, her dare. Sneaking out and flying through the treetops.
I shake the memories and frown at my sister. -I don’t blame you, Chos. I made my own choices.-
She picks at a stubborn clump of blood on her leg. I catch her hand, and squeeze, hard enough to make her stop and bring her eyes to me.
-This is no one’s fault,- I say. -We should be able to leave the treetops without fear of being stolen from our home. That we can’t isn’t your fault.-
Frustration and anger simmer in her psyche, and it worries me. -They wouldn’t have beaten you if I had behaved.-
I laugh at that, and pain shudders through me. - You’ve spent your life breaking the rules and pushing Papa to his limits. Why do you think being a captive would change that? I never did.-
Gentle Chains (The Eleyi Saga Book 1) Page 2