Lion of Zarall

by E B Rose

  The man paused.

  “Slaves!” he yelled over his shoulder. He still didn’t let go of Lion’s hair, nor did he lower his sword.

  Other man tilted Saradra’s head back roughly to check her tattoo. A jolt of rage rushed through Lion’s body at the way he manhandled her.

  Another man stepped into the room. The insignia on his shoulders showed rank. The room was now crowded with five people. Their leader pushed his men aside to have a look at the slaves.

  “I thought all the slaves were kept near the dungeons downstairs,” the man holding Saradra said, confused.

  Their leader shrugged. “You two, take them downstairs and join us near the south east stairwells.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  The rest of the Vogros men continued their progression while the two in Lion’s room yanked them up on their feet and dragged them into the corridor.

  Lion must have been more worried than he’d let himself know, because he felt an immense relief after hearing their leader’s order. Astaldo was right - as always. All free men were greedy.

  One of the Vogros soldiers - the one with the dark hair and thick eyebrows - was walking right behind Lion, giving him a needless push every now and then. The other with the moustache and the yellow teeth was following right behind Saradra. Their swords were still unsheathed, but they seemed more relaxed now than the first time they’d walked into Lion’s room. They didn’t have any reason to expect any trouble from a couple of slaves and Lion had no reason to give them trouble; although he could think of a dozen ways to overpower and kill them both even before they could say ‘mercy.’

  After the next turn, Yellow Teeth tapped his friend on the shoulder. He nodded towards one of the rooms on the left. The door was left ajar, revealing a ransacked room and the body of one of the servants on the floor.

  Dark Hair shrugged and nodded his agreement. They shoved the two slaves into the room.

  “Get down,” growled Dark Hair, kicking behind Lion’s knees. He complied willingly enough and kneeled down facing the wall. “Stay there.”

  The other one pushed Saradra to the bed. He kicked the dead body out of his way and unbuckled his belt.

  Lion closed his eyes.

  His fingers curled into fists as he listened to their sounds.

  Saradra screamed “No!” as she struggled to keep their hands off her. They slapped her and ripped her dress off.

  Lion’s nails dug deep in his palms. Blood seeped down his fingers.

  Saradra cried. Dark haired man was holding her down. He had acquired bleeding scratch marks on his face for his troubles. Yellow Teeth had his pants down and he was forcing her legs open.

  Lion’s body was frozen, sweating and trembling at the same time. He was disconnected from the moment and he realized he could see the future.

  Within seconds, he was going to get up, grab the sword Yellow Teeth had left near the bed carelessly, and plunge it through him. Yellow Teeth was going to gurgle blood, which was bound to pour over Saradra, and she was going to scream. There would be a second when Dark Hair would look at Lion with eyes flashed wide, trying to grasp what had just happened. Shock and anger would replace his confusion. Lion was going to push Yellow Teeth off the bed so he didn’t crush Saradra under his weight. Then, he was going to slash Dark Hair’s throat just as he reached for his sword.

  When he opened his eyes, a faint red fog was framing his vision. Similar to the one that came when his Kill Word was used.

  Saradra sobbed helplessly.

  Lion was in control, but at the same time he wasn’t. His body moved on its own. Everything went exactly the way he’d imagined, except Saradra didn’t scream.

  She pushed off the bed, trying to cover her body with the ripped pieces of her dress. She was soaked in the two men’s blood, shaking in horror, but still managing not to lose herself. Which was great, because Lion was about to.

  The sword slipped from his fingers. Bending over, he retched out loud and emptied his stomach on one of the corpses.

  “Merciful Alunwea,” Saradra gasped. “Are you okay?”

  Realization struck him in waves, each one wringing his chest tighter. His breathing became shallow and dark spots started flying in front of his eyes. He found himself on the floor, his back against the wall, struggling to breathe.

  “Killed… killed free men… I killed…. free men.”

  Saradra kneeled with him, her lips moving, but Lion’s ears were ringing and he couldn’t hear anything but his rapid heartbeat and his own thoughts.

  He’d killed free men. He’d killed free men! He’d committed the greatest Act of Defiance.

  Panic sat on his chest, heavy, strangling him. Stealing his air.

  Killed free men…

  He gasped. A headache was building. Cold sweat. Shivers. His head was spinning.

  Killed free men…

  Saradra’s palm exploded on his cheek, hard. It snapped Lion out of his panic. He blinked.

  “Get a hold of yourself!” Saradra scowled.

  “I… I killed… free men.” Without orders. If he’d been ordered to do so by his Masters, it was a completely different story. But he’d killed them on his own. There was no turning back from this.

  “You saved me,” Saradra countered.

  “Wh… White Tower. Whoever comes out victor out there, they’ll send me to White Tower.” His chest tightened. Air escaped from his lungs and refused to return. He dipped his head between his knees, dry heaving.

  “Fuck White Tower,” Saradra said fiercely.

  Lion’s head snapped up. He opened his mouth, but no reply came out.

  A dangerous glint settled in Saradra’s bright blue eyes. Determined. She announced: “We’re escaping.”

  Lion shook his head. “We can’t. Hunters always…”

  “Fuck Hunters too.”

  She was out of her mind! Lion gaped at her, shaking his head furiously, but she was already on the move.

  She slipped out of her torn, blood stained dress and went over to the cabinet in the corner. She went through the clothes until she found a pair of baggy pants and a shirt.

  “Like you said, whoever wins out there, they’ll send us both to White Tower for this,” she said as she pulled the pants up. “We’ve got nothing to lose. I’d rather take my chances with the Hunters.”

  No. She didn’t understand. Hunters weren’t human.

  But… she was also right. They had nothing to lose.

  “Besides,” she continued after putting the shirt on. “This is the perfect time to escape. By the time they realize two slaves are missing - if they ever do - we’ll be out of Brinescar. Hunters won’t start searching until someone reports us missing.”

  She picked clean clothes for Lion and sat with him. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement. “We’ll go to Kaldoria and seek refuge at a House of Mercy. Priestesses of Alunwea won’t turn anyone down and Kaldoria despises Chinderia’s slave system.”

  Lion allowed her to change his clothes. “Hunters are not human,” he tried to explain. “They won’t stop at the border. They’ll find us anywhere.”

  “And Alunwea is the Goddess of Mercy,” Saradra scoffed. “Her priestesses won’t give us up.” She pulled Lion up to his feet and went to search for a pair of travel cloaks. She shot him a dark gaze over her shoulders. “What other choice do we have?”

  She was right. White Tower stood at the end of either option. At least this way, he was going to have the extra time to spend with Saradra. And if Hunters came too close… A sharp knife was all he needed for a painless end.

  Saradra could only find one cloak and it was too small for Lion. She swung it over her shoulders and brought the hood down until her face and neck were concealed. She pushed the door ajar, sneaking a peek at the corridor outside. The sounds of battle were not nearby. She slid outside, after grabbing Lion’s hand and tugging him behind.

  As soon as Lion stepped into the corridor, he yanked his hand free, returning to the servant’s room
. Saradra opened her mouth, disappointment weighing on her features. She let out a relieved sigh after noticing Lion’s intention.

  Swords of these two Vogros soldiers would have attracted too much attention, but one of them had a knife. Lion pulled it out of its sheath and hid it inside the sleeve of his shirt, against his wrist. He met Saradra at the door. She smiled at him encouragingly, and took his hand.

  After looking at both directions, unsure, Saradra turned to Lion. “Take us to one of the outer yards, somewhere we can escape into the city.” When Lion didn’t move, Saradra scowled. “I don’t know the castle as well as you do. I’ve hardly even left the room. You have to lead. Take us through less used hallways.”

  When he managed to trick himself into believing Saradra was a free woman - which wasn’t too difficult since she acted like one - the last of Lion’s concerns disappeared. He pretended she was his Owner, giving him an order. It wasn’t entirely untrue either; Saradra owned him in ways no free men or women could.

  He nodded, scanning their surroundings for a reference point. He turned left and led the way.

  Saradra fell in step right beside him, her shoulder brushing against his elbow. She held her head high, but not high enough to reveal the tattoo on her neck. She walked confidently, as if she owned the castle.

  They stopped to listen and peek before turning each corner. Sounds of conflict echoed in every direction. It was difficult to pinpoint which way the Vogros soldiers were.

  Once, they stumbled upon a young maiden, running with a pile of jewellery in her arms. Lion tensed, grasping his knife tightly, but Saradra didn’t budge. Her steps never even faltered. She glared at the maiden until the young woman averted her eyes, giving them a wide berth as she ran past, pretending not to see them.

  They entered a landing which led to a less used set of stairs. When they heard a group of heavy footsteps climbing from the lower levels, Lion ducked under a windowsill at the back, pulling Saradra with him.

  Half a dozen soldiers in Zarall uniforms appeared, led by Sir Dramesh. They ran past towards the way Lion and Saradra had come from, without even glancing at the shadows under the windowsill.

  Saradra waited until they couldn’t hear the soldiers’ footsteps anymore, and sprinted for the stairs leading below, only to be stopped by Lion who yanked her back. He nodded upstairs.

  “Why are we going up?” Saradra whispered as she trailed behind him.

  “Lady Wharton’s room,” Lion said simply, as if that explained everything. “She cheats on her husband.”

  “Uh… What?” She narrowed her eyes, no doubt suspecting Lion had finally lost his marbles. Grabbing his forearm, she forced him to stop and look. She spoke tenderly, as if talking to a confused child. “We need to get to a yard.”

  Lion didn’t move. The cooks in the kitchen gossiped all day. Everyone knew Lady Wharton cheated on her husband every time she stayed at Castle Brinescar. She always insisted in staying in the same room, even though the room got colder than the others in the winter.

  She has other means to warm herself anyway, one of the scullions had commented snidely.

  “There’s a tree underneath her balcony,” Lion explained. “We can climb down to the garden. And… there’s a servants’ entrance near the East Wall.”

  Saradra’s eyes grew large. She let go of his forearm. “Are you sure you haven’t planned your escape before?”

  Lion flinched. “Never!”

  “You memorize a map and know exactly how to get out of the castle without being seen.” When Lion simply shook his head in denial, she nudged him. “Never mind, let’s go!”

  Lion had never been to the guest wing of Castle Brinescar, but he knew it was somewhere on second level, facing East. He kept his eyes open for any clues to let them know they were headed in the right direction, though he had no idea what a clue would look like. They walked into a wide corridor with doors on one side and windows on the other.

  Lion stopped abruptly, causing Saradra to bump into his back. “What is it?” she whispered, following his gaze to one of the windows.

  She stepped closer; her eyes darkened when she looked down into the courtyard below. She frowned at Lion. “We have to go,” she said firmly, tugging at Lion’s arm.

  When he didn’t move, Saradra cupped his chin to tear his gaze from the scene below. “There’s nothing you can do. We have to go. Now.”

  Badimar, the trainers and the beasts were cornered in the training yard below. They were joined by a handful of Zarall soldiers and were still painfully outnumbered against dozens of Vogros soldiers. They must have had the chance to raid the weapons shack near the training yard, because each one of them was equipped with weapons and even some armour.

  Lion had never seen Badimar fight before. The Master of the Beasts was a better trainer than he was a fighter, but still, Vogros men couldn’t be cautious enough within his sword’s reach. His steps were calculated, precise. He only struck when there was a clear opening, never wasting an attack. He was not bold, but neither was he timid. Despite the growing number of the enemy, he wasn’t withdrawing. He was…

  “Stalling,” Lion muttered.

  Almost as if they were waiting for something.

  “We have to go,” Saradra urged him again.

  Lion was overwhelmed by an immense urge to go down there and help them.

  “You can’t possibly be serious!” Saradra hissed as if reading his mind. “Forget about them! He’s a ruthless man. Don’t you remember what he’d done to you?” To remind him, she pressed a hand against Lion’s flogged back, causing a jolt of pain.

  She didn’t understand. Badimar was a great trainer. He was not merciful, but not cruel either. He never punished him without a solid reason and the magnitude of his punishments always matched the mistake. They always made Lion a better fighter.

  He’d spent every day for the last two years training with him. He had to go there and help. He had to fight beside him. He wanted to see the look on his face - surprise, gratitude, pride - when Lion rushed to save him.

  “Please,” Saradra begged. “Look at me.”

  She stepped between Lion and the window, but he pushed her aside with a frown. He was noticing two things now. First, the fighting bear of Vogros was not the only coat of arms on the enemy soldiers. Some coat of arms Lion didn’t recognize, but some he did from guests he’d seen at the feasts. Vogros soldiers had allies.

  Moreover, some of the men fighting against Badimar were wearing the black and gold uniforms of House Zarall!

  This revelation explained the confusion Lion had heard earlier. There were traitors amongst them.

  The second thing he’d noticed was how one of the Zarall traitors was flanking Joharin.

  The older trainer didn’t see him and he didn’t get any time to regret his mistake. Zarall traitor stabbed Joharin’s midsection. Caesh pulled him back, while one of the beasts – Ravenchaser - gave them cover, but Lion had seen the angle the sword had went through.

  Joharin was giving his last breath.

  Lion’s chest hummed.

  Saradra’s slap brought him back to himself for the second time tonight.

  “Look at me!” Saradra commanded harshly. “You can’t do anything for them. We have to move!” She shoved him away from the window as if to make her point.

  Lion melted under her gaze. He embraced the nausea and the faint pain that soared through his body, just so he could enjoy those eyes for a few more precious seconds longer. He was itching to have one last look at Badimar, but if he did, he knew he wouldn’t be able to look away again. So, he took Saradra’s hand and led the way.

  He was too cautious of the windows lined on the right side of the corridor. His skin was prickling. He wiped his forehead, suddenly wondering whose side Sir Dramesh was on. Was he sent by Badimar to get Lion? Or, was he working for the Vogros family, making sure Lion of Zarall didn’t fall into wrong hands?

  Little did they know, he already had.

  Saradra’s
fingers were firm around his, reminding him of her presence. His priority was to her. He squeezed her hand until she almost squirmed. He belonged to her now, the same way she belonged to him.

  After the next turn, Lion saw what clues he had been looking for to let them know they were in the ladies’ quarters. The corridor was wider and cluttered with decorations; flowers, paintings, statues, and other useless ornaments. The air was heavy with the sweet smell of fresh flowers and scented candles. Lion’s sense of direction told him the doors on their left had a view of the royal garden. They just had to find the right one.

  Lion’s steps faltered as he ran his gaze over the doors. “It’s one of these rooms.”

  Saradra let go of his hand and scurried to the first one. She turned the knob, but it was locked. She moved to the next one. “How do we know…”

  She left her sentence unfinished when she heard the sound of heavy boots approaching from the other end. Fast.

  Lion’s head snapped back and forth, trying to decide between hiding or pulling his knife out. Sweat trickled down his back. He’d already killed two free men, what difference would a few more bodies make?

  “Here!” Saradra whispered victoriously. The next door she’d tried was unlocked. She darted to grab Lion’s hand and tugged him inside the room with her. She closed the door as quietly as possible.

  Lion only had a couple of seconds to notice the burn marks on the doorframe before Saradra shut the corridor’s light out.

  Saradra stepped back, her eyes fixed on the door. Someone gave a muffled command outside and the sounds approached to the door. Lion hooked his elbow around her waist and pulled her close. He turned his back to the door, his eyes scanning the shadows in the room. He smelled something wet and burning.

  They were not alone.

  At the back of the room, a dark shape stood up with a deep, guttural growl.

  It resembled a dog, maybe a large hound, only bigger. Lion’s head could barely reach up to its shoulders. Pointy ears were tilted back, mouth pulled into a snarl, neatly lined up sharp teeth were shining with spittle. Its black coat was patchy and wet. Molten red eyes focused on Saradra’s back.

  With another growl, its wet fur burst into flames.