Lion of Zarall

by E B Rose

  “Where’s that mage when you need him?” he yelled, though his voice was lost within the turmoil.

  The audience was loving it! This was becoming their favourite moment in Switchblade Arena.

  Oh, Saradra…

  “How did I hurt you? How…” He sobbed uncontrollably and fell on his knees in the puddle he’d just created.

  The audience’s joy turned into angry protests and Lion knew the guards were coming for him now.

  He jumped up just in time to dodge the first attacker. A young man, very eager to get to the unruly slave first that he’d outrun his comrades, leaving them behind.

  Lion stepped out of the man’s way with a clumsy half-turn, grabbed his cloak and threw it over his head. The young man flapped his hands, trying to untangle himself from his cloak. This elicited more laughter from the audience.

  Give them a good show.

  The other guards spread around him cautiously. Instead of swords, they were wielding clubs. Lion taunted them, raising his arms to the side.

  The crowd was cheering for him to fight. Moreover, some of them were attempting to climb into the arena.

  Sir Gwodd and a group of knights were escorting the royal family out of the balcony. The air in the whole arena was tense, only moments from exploding.

  “Like a boiling kettle,” Lion explained to the nearest guard. “But it’s not gonna pop. It’s gonna go boom!”

  The guard scowled, glanced at his comrades, uncertainty paling his face. He was just realizing the slave had lost it.

  Lion chuckled and sidestepped to dodge an attack from behind. He smacked his elbow just over the attacker’s ear, sending him to the ground. The next club met with the back of his skull and stars flashed in his sight.

  Lion went down under half a dozen clubs landing on his head and legs.

  People booed and hooted at the guards and at the name Vogros. Guards with spears entered the arena. Covering his head against the clubs and kicks, Lion watched as someone from the crowd threw a rock the size of a fist at one of the guards. Someone else jumped into the arena and got impaled promptly.

  The riot erupted fast.

  It almost looked like somebody had used a mass Kill Word on all these people. An odd sense of satisfaction grasped Lion. This was exactly what Kastian had been trying to avoid.

  Give them a good show.

  He laughed like a mad man until they beat him unconscious.

  24

  LION

  Lion woke up to a world of pain.

  His first few conscious thoughts were sane; he wondered where he was, he cursed at the hundred different forms of bruises piercing through his body, and he tried to remember what had happened.

  When he finally did remember, the insanity flooded back.

  His strained groans were interrupted by chuckles. Every sharp breath hurt.

  He’d fucked Kastian Vogros! He’d fucked the King of Chinderia pretty bad!

  Speaking of fucking…

  He groped between his legs. He sighed to find his manhood still intact. For now.

  He laughed and regretted it immediately, cringing at the pain it brought. He gasped for air, but couldn’t keep it inside for long; it found a way to slip out of his lips in the form of a moan or a giggle. Sometimes both.

  He dove back into the peaceful pit of unconsciousness.

  *

  He woke up several times to find the world still inhabitable.

  He was lucky to crawl back into the comfort of sleep the first few times. Nonetheless, there came a time when his mind was too stubborn to let the darkness back in. It invited the madness instead.

  His cries and laughter attracted several figures beside the bed he’d been lying.

  One of those figures was Karhad. He recognized the Master of the Slaves by the long, dangling earring on one of his ears. He was arguing with someone about shutting the stupid slave up.

  Lion snatched and pulled Karhad’s stupid earring, severing part of his ear with it.

  Karhad jerked back. For a brief second, he didn’t realise what Lion had just done. Then the pain hit him, and he started wailing, cupping the bleeding remains of his ear with both hands.

  Lion laughed until his stomach cramped. He looked at the earring and at the piece of ear curiously. Why in the Darkhome had he just done this? He had no idea, but it was hilarious!

  “You stupid cunt!” growled Karhad. “Prihjtivaviula! Prihjtivaviula! Prihjtivaviula!”

  Lion’s back levitated off the bed in a painful arc. Was it possible to snap one’s own back with the force of convulsions? He came too close to learning.

  His body was paralysed in an anguish like he’d never experienced before. The amount of pain was stacked when the Pain Word was repeated like this. His eyes rolled back inside his skull, teasing him with the prospect of unconsciousness, but one of the useful things about the Pain Word was that it didn’t allow fainting.

  The torture went longer than usual until Lion heard a roaring blast. Something had ripped inside his mind; he clearly heard the distinct sound of tearing.

  Then, a presence climbed into his head. It didn’t like the torment and the madness occupying there, so it retreated to the back, like a wounded animal. It stayed hidden in the shades of Lion’s distorted thoughts. Waiting. Recovering.

  When the pain finally faded, Lion’s well-trained purebred body itched to roll facedown and assume submissive posture. His left leg was wet, bleeding out from an injury he’d forgotten about.

  He raised one fist to his neck, requesting permission to speak. He slipped the other hand under the bandages on his leg.

  “Speak,” snarled Karhad.

  Kiejain’s balls! There were real tears in Karhad’s eyes! What a wuss!

  “Fuck you, Master,” Lion chuckled and stabbed two fingers inside the wound.

  The result was more blood, a sharp pain spreading from his leg, and a wonderful trip into unconsciousness.

  *

  They threw him face down on the floor.

  He was comfortable lying there like a sack of happy potatoes, but somebody wanted him on his knees. They were kind enough to assist him by grabbing his hair and yanking him up. Nice blokes.

  He saw the bookshelves spreading the length of the walls and smelled the dust they’d gathered. He was back in the library and not surprised to see Kastian’s jolly bunch glaring daggers at him.

  “Hi,” Lion smiled, all teeth. His friendly attitude was rewarded with an immediate punch.

  “He’s broken,” Karhad said. His right ear was wrapped in a bandage. “I’ve never seen a purebred losing his mind like this.”

  “There’s something in my mind,” Lion said and received another punch.

  “Keep his hands off his leg,” Karhad instructed. Two men did as they were bid and twisted Lion’s arms behind him.

  Bummer. He was hoping to escape from this confrontation.

  “Seriously,” Lion snickered. “There’s something inside my mind and it’s bad.”

  “Don’t speak without permission!” Karhad spat. “Prihjtivaviula!”

  Their conversation became buried behind the haze of pain for several seconds. When Lion submerged from the pain, they were talking about the possible causes of his insanity.

  “You should cut down with your use of Pain Word, Master Karhad,” the old adviser said. “It doesn’t have a good impact on him.”

  “Pain Word does not cause insanity,” Karhad said coldly. “I’ve never seen the Pain Word doing this to a purebred.”

  “It’s evil,” Lion said. “It wants to get out and it’s very, very evil.”

  “Shut up!” grunted one of the men behind him and slapped him with the back of his hand.

  “Master Karhad is right,” Kastian said. “Pain Word does not break their mind like this.”

  “How’s Dinky doing?” Lion spat blood on the expensive carpet. Sitting on his large, throne-like chair, Kastian narrowed his eyes into slits. “It wasn’t your brother. It was you, wa
sn’t it?”

  It wasn’t really a question, and Lion didn’t expect an answer from him. But one of the men answered on behalf of the King. “Don’t you talk to your King, you piece of meat!” He backed his command with a slap.

  “Stop damaging him,” Queen Inoeveth said in a serene voice. “We’ve seen that doesn’t work.”

  “As you wish, Your Highness.”

  Lion tilted his head back and laughed. Then, he stared at the Queen’s grey eyes.

  Look at me, whispered Saradra. Fight it.

  “How did you know?” Lion asked, grinning a joyless grin. “How did you know? Huh?”

  Inoeveth knew what he meant by that. Corners of her mouth curled into a tight smile.

  “How did you know?” Lion yelled louder. Every time he repeated the question, his careless, lunatic humour diminished. “How did you know? How did you know?” He lunged forward with a mad scream. He broke free of the surprised guards, yet the Queen didn’t even flinch.

  The King reacted before anyone else did. “Padlociatius!”

  Lion sprawled onto the floor like a sack of bones. The guards, terrified of what their lack of attention could have caused, grabbed his arms and dragged him back to where he was. His head lolled back and forth, presenting him a colourful view of the speechless faces.

  Kastian stood up to give his Queen comfort she didn’t need. Queen Inoeveth allowed her husband to hold her hand, but she kept her cold stare on Lion, still smiling that goat’s ass of a smile.

  When the effects of Lion’s First Word passed, he broke the gasped silence with a laughter.

  “He… He attacked the Queen!” Lord What’s-His-Name breathed in a shrill voice. “How dare anyone do that, let alone a purebred! Master Karhad?”

  They all turned to the Master of the Slaves, demanding an explanation. “I told you,” Karhad said, touching his bandage self-consciously. “He’s broken! Your Majesty, he has to be sent to White Tower.”

  “No,” Prince Dienus objected. “Father, we should execute him. Publicly. And if the people riot, we strike hard and crush them. Show them the power of House Vogros.”

  “This thing in my head,” Lion said, still laughing. “If it gets out, bad things are going to happen!”

  “Shut up,” growled one of the guards, but upon his Queen’s orders, he didn’t do more than squeeze Lion’s arm.

  “What Prince Dienus suggests would be the best solution to clean up the mess that’s caused in Switchblade,” the old fart said in his squeaky voice. “However, using our military forces in provoking and stamping out a riot would leave us weak against an attempt from rival families. Even as we speak, they are gathering their courage to question the legitimacy of our King.”

  Kastian growled, rubbing his temples.

  “I promise you, King,” Lion said. “I won’t let that thing out. I’ve locked it deep inside.”

  Prince Dienus took his belt off and handed it to guards. “Shut him up.”

  The men stuffed the belt between Lion’s teeth and tied it around his head.

  “We have to do something to prove our strength,” Prince Lotheris said. “We can stop the people from talking by hunting and arresting the loudest ones. But we still have to do something drastic to remind the Houses of our capabilities before any of them uses these riots as an opportunity.”

  What the older Prince said didn’t seem to relieve his father’s headache. Kastian pressed the base of his palm against his forehead. “We all know that, but what? I have room full of advisers who do nothing other than bewailing at our situation. Whichever of you is waiting to snatch the most desperate moment to come up with a solution, it’s now.”

  “That would be me, my love.” Queen Inoeveth put a gentle hand on her husband’s cheek. “I know how to turn this around. We’ll talk.”

  “Talk?”

  The Queen smiled and nodded. She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around Kastian’s shoulders. Their eyes glistened with affection for each other. Watching their love hurt Lion more than any of their blows. Not long ago, Saradra was looking at him like that. Lion was watching her sleep with the same eyes Kastian watched his Queen. Now, a hole was ripped open inside Lion’s chest, scorching everything.

  Inoeveth looked at him out of the corner of her eyes and flashed a cruel smile. A stiff growl rose from the back of Lion’s throat.

  “But who are we going to talk to, Your Highness?” asked the old squeaky. “And about what?”

  “You all have been getting worried about how other houses might use these riots for their benefit. Why don’t we use them?”

  Kastian, finally catching a brief glimpse of what his wife had in her mind, smiled. “Elaborate, dear.”

  “But first, we have to agree that the slave is going to White Tower. We need him to obey.”

  “I’m not releasing him into an arena again!”

  “We won’t. But we can still use him. After we get him… repaired.”

  Kastian ordered Master Karhad to take Lion to the dungeons and start packing up for a long trip. They dragged him out of the room before Queen Inoeveth revealed the rest of her heinous plan.

  25

  LION

  The darkness was peaceful. It had always been peaceful for him. He’d never dreaded being alone in the dark and he doubted if he ever would. He could easily spend the rest of his life left alone in the peaceful, pitch black.

  It had been nearly two weeks. He knew it because he’d counted the long stops they’d made.

  Thirteen. Thirteen nights spent on the road.

  He was chained at the back of a horse cart, covered by thick cloth on all sides. He sometimes heard the coachman talking to Master Karhad at the front of the cart. There was not much conversation, mostly Karhad sneezing and complaining about the cold and rain. He was clearly not a big fan of roads. Another reason for him to hate Lion.

  Karhad hadn’t acted on his hate though. Both him and the other guardsmen Kastian had assigned, had left Lion alone most of the time. For the first few nights Lion had laughed and howled so loud, they had no other option than to beat him unconscious so that they could get a bit of sleep. Soon, Lion had become quieter. But not because of the threat of the beatings. Whatever had made him scream and cry and laugh until tears flew down his face was slowly going away.

  Darkness was healing his mind, though it was not just the darkness. It was the dreams that came with it.

  Lion rarely remembered dreaming. Some slave breeders had claimed that purebreds didn’t dream, because they didn’t have any rhoas. He didn’t know where these dreams came from, but they were welcomed.

  He dreamed of his room at Castle Brinescar. Making love to Saradra in the tiny bed they’d shared. She was warm, tender, and passionate. She didn’t let him speak to say how sorry he was. She didn’t let him beg for forgiveness, nor cry for her loss. She just took him by the hand and showed him how ready he was to trade everything for an eternity with her body. Certainly, the best deal anyone had ever been offered.

  Then, there was the dream that had felt like another life; a real life that was being lived by another Lion of Zarall in another universe.

  The alternate Lion and Saradra had managed to escape on the night of the coup. All they’d done differently was to pick another bedroom on the ladies’ quarter; one where that mage was not hiding. They’d escaped the city, crossed the border, and reached the Temple of Alunwea Saradra had been talking about. They’d lived there. She’d given birth to a blonde-haired boy with bright blue eyes.

  It had been terrifying at first. The Dream Lion had confided in Dream Saradra that he’d received no training to become a father, which she’d responded nobody ever had. It was the oddest feeling in the world and nothing could have prepared him for it.

  The whole dream was so realistic that Lion felt disoriented when he’d open his eyes back in the horse cart. He could almost hear the baby’s - his son’s - laughter.

  Then, Karhad had yelled him to shut up and Lion had laid there, his
eyes closed shut, trying to go back to that dream. No matter how hard he’d tried, it was gone.

  Some other dreams involved blood and violence and they’d felt as good as the others.

  In them, he was back at the Switchblade Arena. He was wearing his lion’s armour, complete with the mask. The arena was empty; there were no spectators, no announcer, no guards. It was just him and his rival.

  The other slave was Kastian.

  In the dream, Lion had fought and defeated him, but he didn’t kill him. Not quickly, anyway. He tortured him for days. He flayed him and buried him deep in the blood-red sands of Switchblade. He watched fire ants eat him alive, vultures rip his tongue and carve his eyes out. He stuffed him inside a steel bull and lit a fire under its belly, cooking him slowly. He lashed him until his back resembled nothing but a slab of meat. He killed Kastian with his bare hands, savouring every second.

  Not just the King. Queen Inoeveth had become a guest in these dreams too.

  Lion erased that bitchy smile off her face in the castle torture room. He branded her with a hot iron, scalped her, cut her breasts off, and raped her with a ribbed knife. He tortured her until she’d lost her mind, just like he did. Then he finished her off with his bare hands.

  Surprisingly, these dreams had done more healing to his mind than the others. They were as real as the others had been and they’d given him a sense of peace and satisfaction that had eased some of his suffering.

  At the end of the first week, Lion had stopped laughing and screaming, and switched to staring at the darkness, yearning for the dreams. He’d started eating the stale food they served twice a day.

  He hadn’t known -still didn’t- what had brought those dreams, but he didn’t complain. They were almost constructed specifically to banish that madness out from his mind.

  To open room for something else.

  They had been exactly what he needed to see and they threw him a rope to climb out of that pit called insanity.

  And the dream that had done the most healing was the last one.

  In that last dream, Saradra was there in the cart with him.