by Bertina Mars
“Hey, are you a Raja-kellan?” Maya asked the bored looking girl. “Look, can you help me and the others? We shouldn’t be here.”
The girl ignored her, more interested in fixing Maya’s hair. Maya thinned her lips in frustration and scanned the room. While the slaver captain and the House Matron bickered about money, the rest of the Yojaridans had taken up positions around the room, armed with their whips and laser rifles.
There was no point trying to make a run for it, Maya thought gloomily. There was no visible exit and those thugs would cut her down in a heartbeat. It was best to bide her time, that’s what her dad would say. Wait for the right opportunity and follow your instincts.
The slave girl had finished doing up her hair and now started applying some pretty gaudy looking make-up to Maya’s face. Maya suffered the attention and looked at her reflection in the mirror.
Though she had never been confident about her looks, she had an attractive rounded face, with sparkling blue eyes, sharp and piercing, a small dainty nose and Classic style lips.
Dad said she looked like a little cherub when she was a child and that had been her nickname for her growing up. She’d loved being called that when she was younger, but once she hit her teens she hated it. Now that dad was dead she’d give anything to hear him call her his cherub again.
A deep, emotional pain welled up inside her and tears threatened to spring in her eyes.
Not now! She told herself sternly, I have to keep it together. That’s what dad would expect.
Thinking of him strengthened her resolve and she steeled her heart. Whatever happened now, she was determined to be ready for it and she would do everything in her power to get her and the other women back to Earth whatever the cost.
Chapter 2: The Brooding Defender
“And this, my most glorious Prince Consort, is the cloak for the outfit. It has been weaved from the finest silk of the spider-bats of the Inner Basin. Its golden texture shimmers so majestically in the light, sire. You will be the envy of the Blood God Himself,” the tailor gushed as he fixed the cloak to the garish, brightly coloured outfit that he had created for the Prince Consort.
Preening himself in the full length mirror, Ghamak Yu Shaj, Prince Consort and absolute monarch of Raja-kell pawed at the cloak with gleeful avarice. “Yes,” he cooed, “I look positively fantastic! Don’t you agree, Vron?”
Standing near the doorway of the chamber, his mind soporific with tedium, Vron looked up sharply. His tanned, handsome face creased with a severe frown as he took in the clownish outfit the Prince Consort was wearing.
“It is . . . interesting,” he said in a neutral voice.
The Prince Consort let out a shrill laugh, startling the bare breasted servant girl who was pouring him a goblet of wine. She was new to the harem and not yet used to the master’s strange little ways. She jumped at the sudden braying noise and knocked the goblet onto the cyber-jaguar rug that adorned the red marble floor.
“Clumsy sow!” the Prince Consort yelled. “Look at the mess you have made to my beautiful rug!” Without hesitation, he advanced on the petrified girl and smacked her hard across the face, making her stagger.
The sculpted muscles of Vron’s honed body tightened, and his first instinct was to rush to the helpless girl’s aid. He knew that would only make things worse, so he stayed where he was.
Fortunately, the Prince Consort was so puny, he didn’t do the girl any serious harm. Nevertheless, the poor wretch cowered in terror.
“Useless bitch! I’ll have you sacrificed to the Blood God!” the Prince Consort threatened, his pockmarked dark with rage.
“She would make a poor offering, sire,” Vron spoke up, keeping his tone casual. “Besides, you will soon have plenty of earthlings to add to the harem who will be far more graceful that this dull wench. Show your divine mercy by having her reassigned to the kitchens. She will never offend your sight again, I swear.”
The Prince Consort glared at the girl and then gave Vron an unreadable look. A few moments later, a wide, yellow-toothed grin split his face.
“My loyal Chief of Security,” the Prince Consort purred. “My most trusted adviser and dearest friend. Where would I be without you by my side?”
Disembowelled and with your head on a stake, Vron thought viciously, and you’d deserve it too. Rancid pig!
Vron kept his face impassive and gave his master a stiff bow. “I am merely a humble servant of his glorious majesty,” he said flatly. “Your illustrious example guides my every move.”
The Prince Consort nodded, clearly pleased with this response. Ignoring the cowering earthling, he went back to admiring himself in the mirror. The human looked anxiously at Vron, who simply nodded and gestured her to leave the chamber.
She didn’t need any more encouragement and hurried out, giving him a grateful smile. Her sultry gaze suggested exactly how she was willing to prove her gratitude. Vron pointedly looked away, fighting temptation.
His wolfish good looks and high status meant he could have his pick of the women, but though he occasional took a couple to his bed when his desire became too powerful to resist, sleeping with another woman felt too much like a betrayal to the memory of his beloved Seema.
Now that the drama with the serving girl was over, the tailor continued with his obsequious patter. “The cloak truly compliments the outfit sire. If I may, I will just straighten the jade pendant and you will look truly glorious.”
As the tailor advanced, Vron spotted the dagger he had concealed in the sleeve of his robe a heartbeat before he pulled it free. With cat-like speed, Vron crossed the chamber before the tailor could drive the dagger into the Prince Consort’s chest. Vron tackled the man to the ground and grabbed at the hand containing the dagger.
The tailor thrashed viciously, fury burning in his silver eyes. “Death to the tyrant!” he screamed as he tried to push Vron off him.
Vron easily overpowered him, and squeezing the man’s wrist tightly he forced him to release the dagger. Grabbing the tailor by the scruff of his robe, he pulled him to his feet and held the man’s arms against his side.
“Stop struggling!” Vron warned him in an iron hard voice. “It is too late for that now. You can’t escape.”
“I already have,” the tailor sneered. “You haven’t saved him! Another will take my place!”
With that shrill threat, the tailor managed to get one hand free and shoved something into his mouth. His eyes bulged and he convulsed before falling dead in Vron’s arms.
“Skullsnake venom,” Vron pronounced grimly, smelling the sickly scent coming from the dead man’s slack mouth. “He died instantly.”
Vron muttered a brief prayer of passing for the tailor and set him down on the floor. When he looked back to check on the Prince Consort, he found his master looking back into the mirror and adjusting the pendant himself.
“There,” he said with a satisfied smile. “I look superb.”
“Sire, there may be other assassins in the palace. We must get you to your quarters and under guard until a thorough search can be conducted.”
The Prince Consort waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t be tedious. I have more important things to do with my time than go hiding under my bed.”
Vron scowled and examined the corpse. “This tattoo on his forearm marks him as belonging to the Koro tribe of the eastern marches. That explains everything.”
“What do you mean? It explains nothing.”
“If your Highness recalls you recently sacrificed all the children of the Koro tribe at last season’s river festival,” Vron replied, struggling to hide his caustic tone. He looked down at the tailor with a large degree of sympathy.
Like many people on Raja-kell, he was no doubt a decent person driven to extreme measures by the bloodthirsty whims of the Prince Consort. “This explains the man’s hatred for you. If you had allowed me to thoroughly vet visitors to your presence beforehand, this could have been avoided.”
The Prince Consort l
et out a braying laugh. “You fret and fuss like a sagging titted nursemaid. I am the chosen elect of the Blood God. I can never be killed! These filthy peasants will learn the error of their ways. Have the army exterminate the entire Koro tribe as a warning to others.”
Vron’s jaw dropped, and he was about to try and formulate a counter argument to such extreme action, when the House Matron entered bowing lowly. She gave the body on the floor only the briefest of glances before fixing her attention on the Prince Consort. Violence and death were an everyday occurrence in the palace.
“Glorious majesty,” she said in a cloying tone. “A billion apologies for disturbing your most magnificent deliberations, but the Earth women are now ready to be viewed.”
“Ah yes, the slave auction, excellent!” the Prince Consort beamed, clapping his hands. He swept forward toward the door. “Come along, Vron. I have been looking forward to this.” He paused, and pointed to the body of the tailor. “Clean that up,” he ordered offhandedly to the House Matron.
Vron and the older woman exchanged wearied glances before Vron followed his master out of the chamber with a heavy sigh. He just hoped that the excitement of the auction would make the Prince Consort forget his recent order to wipe out the Koro tribe.
*
The Earth women had been gathered in the main courtyard of the palace as the Prince Consort and Vron emerged into the midday sun. Vron scanned their frightened, confused faces and grimaced. It was a familiar scene now.
Women snatched from other worlds and brought to the palace to be sold into a lifetime of sexual slavery, condemned to become the playthings of the Prince Consort and the other nobles.
Already Vron’s fellow members of the Blood Shark Society had gathered to ogle the merchandise. Fierce and ruthless warriors just like Vron, the Blood Shark Society was the ruling elite of Raja-kell, and under the Prince Consort they enjoyed absolute power without restraint.
Like the Prince Consort himself, most of them had become degenerate and corrupt as a consequence, and many times Vron felt ashamed to be part of their number, though in the distance past the Sharks had been a force for good and stability. But like his beautiful Seema, those glory days were gone forever.
“A most pleasingly fertile looking selection,” the Prince Consort said eagerly, eying up the women. “I must compliment the slaver captain on his selection, already I have spotted a couple I deem sufficiently worthy of receiving my divine seed.”
“They cannot imagine the honour they are due to receive, your Excellency,” drawled Vron, knowing too vividly the gruesome fate that awaited those unfortunate wretches the Prince Consort decided to take to his bedchamber. In many ways they would be better off dead.
He looked out at the women with abject pity, but knew there was nothing he could do to help them now. He had long ago shielded his heart from the pain of knowing how utterly impotent he was against the depredations of the Blood Shark Society. All he could do was offer up a prayer that their future lives would not be too dreadful to bear.
For an instant, he was overcoming by the roiling emotion that churned inside, though anyone who might be observing him would only see a slight tightening of the muscles round his square jaw. Vron had learnt long ago to keep his feelings carefully hidden.
Yet today, he was finding it hard to remain in control.
It must have been the near execution of the serving girl and then the attempted assassination that had rattled his nerves. He shouldn’t have been so fazed of course. It was just a typical day in the life of the Chief of Security. Maybe he was getting too old for all this?
As he brooded upon this and the general misery of his life, his eyes skimmed across the faces of the Earth women, wishing he could be somewhere else. In fact, he was just about to come up with some excuse to go and chastise the Royal Guard for not searching the tailor before he was admitted into the Prince Consort’s presence, when he suddenly saw her.
She was standing near the back of the captured women, a calm controlled presence amidst the visible fear and anxiety of the others. His eyes raked over her beautiful, angelic face, the voluptuous curves of her body and the rich swell of her breasts, barely able to comprehend the sheer perfection he saw in her.
He couldn’t believe he had not spotted her until now, and now that he had he couldn’t stop looking at her. An excitement came over him that he hadn’t felt since his adolescence, and his heart pounded wildly in his chest.
The beautiful, curvy earthling was watching the Blood Sharks with open disgust and exuded an inner strength that Vron had not seen in a long time. He read the quicksilver intelligence in her gaze and realised straight away that her whole body language was poised for escape.
Unlike the other women, who had been reduced to the mental level of frightened cattle, this one was not going to give up without a fight. As he stared at her their eyes suddenly made contact.
A thrill of panic flared in his chest and he instinctively looked away. His legs felt like water and he had to take a few moments to regain control of himself. When he risked a look in her direction again, her attention was now fixed on the auction, which was just beginning.
Vron’s heart dropped and he felt a deep shame welling up inside him. No doubt she thought him a savage barbarian like the rest of the men here, and that made his soul ache.
What was happening to him? Who was this fantastic woman who had such a hold over him? Despite his better judgement, he was determined to find out more about her, and that meant participating in the auction. It went against his entire moral code, but he didn’t care any more. She was the only thing that mattered now.
Chapter 3: Two Lost Souls
Once they had been preened and beautified, Maya and the other women were herded toward a large iron gate that dominated the far end of the dressing chamber. She had found Tia again, and held the poor kid’s hand feeling a rallying of her strength in supporting the other girl. Whatever happened, they were all in this together.
The bitch-faced House Matron had finished bickering with the slaver captain and now inspected the women. When she was satisfied with their appearance she gestured to the Raja-kellan soldier on guard to pull the lever he was stood next to.
Dread sliced through Maya as the huge gate slowly opened, and she tightened her grip on Tia’s little hand. A fresh ripple of fright when through the girls as the gate opened completely, letting harsh sunlight flood the room.
“Go on then,” snapped the House Matron. “Get outside, and anyone who causes any trouble will be flayed alive and thrown into the tar pits. This is your first and only warning!”
Maya severely doubted the woman was bluffing. She felt her body stiffen and she prepared herself for what was to come. Hesitantly, the Earth women moved through the gate and Maya squinted against the glaring sun and was almost knocked out by the searing heat.
She quickly recovered from the sudden change of environment and focused on taking in her surroundings and finding a possible escape route. What she saw though made her heart sink.
They were now standing in a large open air courtyard beneath a cherise tinted sky. Tropical heat drenched Maya’s body in seconds, and she stared out in wonder at the vast green swathe of rainforest that stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction.
It was almost as awe-inspiring as the colossal red stoned ziggurat that rose up on the other side of the courtyard directly opposite the gate they had just come through. Like the courtyard, it was several hundred kilometres above ground level and glowered down on a sprawling smoke wreathed city that reached out from its skirts across the rainforest floor.
Maya’s eyes were drawn back to the megalithic structure and its immensity and aura of menace almost overwhelmed her. It was the colour of dried blood, and a beam of scarlet light shot up from its uppermost building to pierce the heavens above. Most disconcerting of all, was that suspended inside light several feet above the ziggurat was a large stone head, with an ugly, crudely carved face.
The face was looking out at the rainforest with blazing ruby red eyes, but when the Earth women were marched into the courtyard it slowly turned until it was looking down on them instead. This bizarre spectacle was not witnessed by Maya alone, and cries of dismay went up from the other girls.
“Silence!” rasped the House Matron. “You are in the presence of the Blood God Himself, the supreme power of Raja-kell! Keep yours bowed and your tongues still, or you will invoke His terrible wrath!”
The threat was enough to cow the prisoners, but Maya refused to be beaten down by some kind of scary looking gimmick. She forced herself to look away from the frightening visage and hunt for a possible escape route.
It was utterly crazy to even try anything, she knew that very well but as she figured it, it would be better to fight and die than end up a slave.
“I shall inform the Prince Consort, we are finally ready to begin,” the House Matron said imperiously to the slaver captain. “Ah, good, the other Blood Sharks are assembling now as well.”
Maya watched as a large group of male Raja-kellans began to saunter out of the ziggurat into the courtyard. Like the slave girls and the House Matron, they were olive-skinned humanoids indistinguishable from Earthlings save for their silver coloured eyes.
They strutted around with an insufferable air of arrogance, yelling out raucously and directing obscene comments at the Earth women. Maya regarded them with ill-disguised contempt.
While the House Matron headed away, the slavers got the auction ready, setting up a selling block in front of the baying crowd of potential buyers. The women were made to stand separately, and Tia got separated from Maya, as the slaver captain grabbed her by the arm and paraded her in front of the so-called Blood Sharks.
Maya cursed the stroke of ill luck because she’d really hoped to get the kid away with her as well, but she knew that wasn’t practical.