by Xenia Melzer
Druran and Drik had watched the entire process with interest and couldn’t suppress a satisfied chuckle. If they played their cards right, they would be able to make a fortune with this gift from the heavens. Drik inspected the spot where the dagger had slit Daran’s skin.
“It’s completely healed. Seems like we have to forgo our usual method of marking. What a pity.”
Druran leaned back on the wall, the knives gleaming in the light of the candles.
“A beauty like him shouldn’t be marred with a branding anyway. There are other methods. I’d say a ring in a certain place should not only serve as a sign of ownership, but also have some use as a means of maintaining discipline.”
“Brother, you really are an evil genius. I’ll go and prepare everything. It’ll still take two days for word to get to the first customers. Until then, we can have some fun as well.”
The faces of the men brightened in pure greed. Daran tried to steel himself for the things that would soon be happening to him and was determined to never beg these despicable creatures for mercy. That much he owed to himself and his masters.
ELIANA SLOWLY woke from her slumber. For a change, she hadn’t been tortured by nightmares and felt refreshed. Her gaze wandered to the reason she was feeling so relaxed this morning. In a bloody heap on the floor lay the mutilated, barely breathing body of a young woman she and her sister had enjoyed thoroughly the other night. Eliana bent down to check on her unfortunate toy and quickly reached the conclusion that this one was broken beyond repair. For a moment she pondered whether she should release the slave from her suffering but decided against it. She herself had never received any mercy, so why should she bestow it on others?
Carelessly Eliana stepped over the body of the dying girl to meet her sister Arborja in the dining room. She, too, was relaxed and in a good mood, the sharp lines around her eyes and mouth softened by the cruelty she was radiating. The sisters embraced each other and kissed briefly. Eliana thought she could still taste some of the victim’s blood on Arborja’s lips.
“Is it dead already?”
Her sister regarded everybody as a thing, just as she had been treated after the barbarians sold them off.
“Not yet, but it can’t be much longer. Do you want to watch?”
Arborja considered this proposal for a moment, then shook her head.
“No, too boring. It always ends the same way. Some twitching, a plea or a curse, depending on the personality and the defeat. I’d say we already know this by heart.”
“What do we do, then? Find a new toy?”
“An excellent idea! And it so happens that I already have a candidate. This came today.”
She tossed Eliana a scroll with the stylized seal of their favorite brothel, a secret hideout only a few leagues from their home. The two owners, Druran and Drik, offered high-quality merchandise to those with special needs and rather peculiar tastes, like their own. Due to the peculiar tastes of their customers, the playthings on offer changed on a regular, quick basis, since the human body could endure only so much until it broke. The latest addition to the brothel’s collection seemed to be really special. It was praised as a beautiful, rare specimen with phenomenal endurance. What caught Eliana’s eye was not the advertising talk that covered most of the scroll, but two rather unobtrusive sentences at the very end of the litany—“Snatched from Canubis’s army” and “Offered for killing.”
She reared her head up and met Arborja’s burning gaze. Finally the time had come. They would get the chance to exact revenge, if not on the divine bastards themselves, at least on one of their underlings. And Arborja and Eliana had a lot to avenge. A murdered family, a lost childhood, a home consumed by flames, a youth spent in brothels as merchandise, and all in all two wasted, ruined lives that only went on because they were propelled by sheer hatred of everything and everybody. Especially anyone connected to the Wolf of War and the Angel of Death.
“I’ve already sent them a message to secure him for us. If we get ready now, we’ll be at the brothel in time for a wild night.”
Anticipation made both women’s worn features almost attractive, provided one didn’t care about the ugly, despicable sheen in their eyes, which were devoid of anything even remotely human.
“THIS IS where they ambushed us.”
Lukan gestured toward the thicket where the nightmare had started. The Wolf of War nodded and sent the wolves to have a look. Like deadly shadows, the big predators spread all over the place, sniffing for traces. Of course, the carts with the steel were long gone, and a hideous smell hung in the air because the highwaymen hadn’t troubled themselves with burying the fallen. Lukan shuddered when he recognized his comrades. Only two days ago they had been warm and alive; now the ravens and other scavengers had already started to dispatch their bodies. As a warrior, he was used to death, and usually it wouldn’t have bothered him so much, but things were different this time. By any rights he should have been lying with them. Instead he was standing here, defying death and the natural order of things. At that moment, Lukan understood on a whole new level how profoundly his life had changed the moment he had decided to follow Sic’s voice. He didn’t really regret it, for he loved Elua too much, but now he realized there was more to being an Echend’dim than just dismissing the darkness. Choosing the pain of walking in the light over the peace of succumbing to the shadows took more courage than Lukan had initially assumed. In a certain respect, he was even jealous of his fallen friends.
After the wolves were done seeking out all the important traces, the mercenaries collected the dead and lined them up on the ground. Canubis turned to Sic, who was standing next to Noran, white as linen and fighting his tears. The bulky master smith had slung an arm around his lover and was talking to him in a soothing tone. Lukan couldn’t suppress a smile. Lord Sic was the gentlest person he had ever met. It was a trait the young noble had only recently come to recognize as a form of strength.
“Tell me, Sic, is one of them Echend’dim?”
The smith shook his head.
“No, Lord Canubis. They’re all gone.”
“Very well. Now that we’ve cleared this up….” He turned to a sturdy, grim woman. “Ishia, take them home.”
The female nodded. Together with four other warriors, she started preparing the fallen for transport.
“And where on Ana-Darasa is Daran?”
Kalad didn’t even try to hide his worry anymore. He and Aegid had held back while the wolves had been inspecting the site of carnage, trusting that the predators wouldn’t miss the faintest trace.
Canubis shared a long look with the alpha. “They say Daran died with the others and was then removed. The bad news is that the trail of the carts and the one from Daran are going in different directions. We’ll have to split.”
He addressed Lukan. “Echend’dim! You’re in command. Follow the carts, bring back the steel, and take as many prisoners as possible. None of these men deserves an easy death, and I’m planning to set an example nobody’s going to forget in a hurry. Elua, you’re going with Lukan. Make sure he doesn’t get into trouble again. Take all of the mercenaries with you.”
Elua bowed reverently, and then she and Lukan gathered the warriors and followed the lead of three of the wolves.
Canubis watched them with satisfaction. He had no doubts that they would be successful.
“Noran, take Sic back to the Valley. He needs to rest.”
Normally Canubis wasn’t so lenient toward his Emeris, but he still felt guilty about the way he had treated Sic before. Cutting the Luksari some slack was definitely in order.
Noran led his lover back to the horses. The young smith smiled briefly at Casto before he was taken away by his intimidating protector.
Suddenly Lys perked up his ears and snorted happily. Casto followed the stallion’s gaze. From behind the thicket, a horse approached the group. Lys whinnied a greeting.
“It’s Rajan!” Casto was relieved. He had feared the gelding had di
ed during the battle. With genuine pleasure, the brown horse started rubbing his forehead on the king’s arm. “It’s fine. Good boy. Now all we have to do is find your rider.”
“And as quickly as possible. I have a bad feeling about this.” Aegid looked miserable. Losing Daran like this worked him up more than he wanted to admit.
Hulda stepped forward, sensing how much her brother-in-arms needed comfort. “We’re going to find him. Daran is strong, he will persevere.”
“Of course he will.” Kalad was as worried as his desert brother, and covered it with irritation. “The question is what it is he has to endure, and just thinking about it makes me want to throw up.”
3. TWO SISTERS
DARAN JOLTED awake. Somebody had drenched him with a bucket of ice-cold water. Elgir’s mocking voice assaulted his ear like the barking of a flea-ridden street dog.
“Time to wake up, princess. Your first customers are about to arrive, and we do want you to look presentable, don’t we?”
Daran turned his head sideways. He didn’t want to see the triumph, the mockery and greed in Elgir’s face. To make him pay for the broken nose and to break his fighting spirit, the three men had tortured and raped him the entire night. His body had desperately tried to mend the damage his tormentors had inflicted as quickly as possible, but when Elgir had started to hit him with an iron bar, it had been too much. He had barely registered the final blow that had shattered his nose and cheekbones and broken his skull.
While he had still been unconscious, the men had cleaned him up. The stench of cheap perfume and warm oil assaulted his nose and reminded him of his time under Egand’s command. Elgir was now drying him with a surprisingly soft cloth, while his hands took liberties Daran was determined to make him pay for once he managed to free himself.
To his own surprise, he wasn’t afraid but mainly furious. Mostly with himself, because he had allowed them to capture him and had been unable to take the chance for escape, but also with those despicable creatures who dared to keep and torture an Echend’dim. Daran knew he had to hold on to this anger if he wanted to get out of this mess more or less emotionally unscathed. And so he forbade himself from thinking about what his masters would have to say once they found out he had been sullied by strangers. It was a problem he would deal with as soon as he had his freedom back.
Elgir finished and stepped back with a satisfied look in his eyes.
“They’re going to love you. Or, more precisely, the chance to get back at such a beautiful member of the Pack.”
A smile of hateful glee appeared on Elgir’s face, on which the broken nose stood crooked and swollen. “Don’t hope for any mercy. The Wolf of War took everything from those two, including their freedom. All they have now, they had to fight for. You can probably imagine how thirsty they are for revenge. And you, little beauty, are going to entertain them plenty tonight.”
Cackling, Elgir left the room.
“DAMN, WHY is this taking so long?”
Like an impatient hound, Kalad was riding up and down alongside his gods while the wolves spread out to rediscover the trace they had lost for the third time this forenoon. The day before, they hadn’t made much progress either, which increased the head start Daran’s kidnappers had to three days.
“The trace has been veiled by magic.”
Grimly Renaldo eyed the uneven path stretching in front of them. Whoever had taken the thief had gone to great pains not to be found, which could only mean the young man was in deep trouble. Aegid and Kalad knew this as well, and their pain was like a knife in the hearts of all members of the group. By now everybody understood how much the desert brothers loved their partner, how irreplaceable he had become to them. Imagining how he had died during the attack was more than his owners were able to bear. Not being prone to death didn’t mean the Emeris and Echend’dim couldn’t feel pain. Every one of them had endured the agony of dying more than once in their long lives. It was a necessary but hardly bearable experience. It reminded those whose lives knew no end how real and inevitable death was.
Renaldo’s insides turned to ice whenever he remembered that his heart had yet to go through this agonizing moment. Before he could become obsessed with this dark train of thought, howling indicated that the wolves had found the trace again.
“HE’S INDEED extraordinary.”
Like starved foxes, the two females circled the chained, naked Daran. Now and then their fingers touched his skin almost lovingly. If Daran hadn’t lived among the scum of society for most of his youth, he might have nourished some hope for mercy in the hearts of the women. Unfortunately their murderous intentions were obvious.
Elgir only gloated while he made something vaguely resembling a bow. “I wish the ladies a pleasant evening. You can do to him whatever you please.”
He turned away, and the door to the chamber closed with an ominous click. Daran was alone with the customers. Both of them were tall, with long chestnut hair, dark eyes, elegantly curved noses, and small, haggard lips. There was no doubt they were sisters, and the way they interacted showed clearly how close they were to each other. That bond was the only thing vaguely human in those two. They moved like famished predators, and in their eyes was a feverish, flickering glint that told Daran more than anything else that these two had crossed the line to insanity a long time ago. Their entire being seemed to be solely propelled by greed. It wasn’t the mundane greed for power or riches, but the more dangerous one for revenge, born from utter despair. Daran didn’t want to imagine what they had gone through to develop such twisted, hate-filled personalities.
Now they focused all their attention on him. The feverish glint in their eyes increased and was almost overwhelming when they selected two knives from the wall.
The cuts they inflicted on Daran weren’t deep, just enough to make him bleed. Every time they slid the blades over his defenseless skin, they whispered into his ear what the Wolf of War and the Angel of Death had done to them. Faster and faster the knives hissed through the air, until Daran was unable to distinguish between the words and the pain, until he thought the words themselves were cutting him up.
“We were still children when they came.”
“They obliterated the city in which we lived just because some king had paid them.”
“Our father was beheaded, our mother died when she tried to protect us.”
“They made us into slaves and sold us like chattel.”
“We were whores, our virginity sold when we turned fourteen.”
“The Wolf of War has taken everything from us.”
“The Angel of Death has damned us.”
“And what for? For gold, for profit.”
“Because soldiers like you serve them.”
“You submit your sword and your strength to their will, not asking how many lives you destroy. We were innocent, we hadn’t done anything wrong.”
“We hate them.”
“Hate you.”
“Hate.”
“Hate.”
When the two finally calmed down a bit, Daran was covered in blood. He was heaving while his body tried to repair the damage. The older of the two sisters licked the blood from his cheek, her voice a hypnotizing singsong.
“The dead never return, no matter how much we wish for it. The same goes for our wasted lives. But you, you’re going to expiate with your blood what your masters have done to us. Rejoice, your suffering means my sister and I can sleep peacefully tonight.”
They were the last words Daran consciously heard. After that, his world drowned in unbearable pain. It was so bad, he was grateful when the knife slit open his chest and the greedy hands of the sisters ripped out his heart as a trophy.
TIRED, CASTO blinked into the dim morning light. They had ridden the entire night, always in fear of losing the weak trace connecting them to Daran. Whoever had managed to take the thief knew about the resources of the wolves—and their limits. Casto prayed to the Mothers that they would find Daran soon. With every
hour passing, Aegid and Kalad became more taciturn, and their faces grew more worried. The king could barely stand seeing the normally cheerful warriors in such a desolate state.
And then sharp barking filled the air, which meant that the wolves had finally found something. Lys dashed off without waiting for a command. Effortlessly he passed the other horses, racing to the spot the wolves indicated. When they reached the predators, Casto felt his hopes evaporate. The pack had surrounded two women on tolerably good palfreys, keeping them from fleeing with threatening growls and bared fangs.
Disappointed, Casto dismounted Lys. As much as he tried, he couldn’t find a trace of Daran.
Now the rest of their group arrived. Canubis reined Demon in, his predator eyes regarded the women sharply.
“Get down.” Like a whip, the voice of the Wolf of War pierced the air. The females, who were dressed in long, billowing black coats, regarded him with derision.
“We’ll surely never bow to the orders of a murderer.”
They spoke in unison, hatred distorting every single syllable. Casto felt violent shudders running down his spine. In Ummana he had come to know all kinds of mental conditions, ranging from cold and calculating to hotheaded and oblivious. Some of them had been more dangerous than others, and he had learned to deal with them all. But nothing came close to what he was getting from these two women. They were so far beyond madness, they probably approached sanity from the other direction. Instinctively he realized there was nothing that could reach those distorted, twisted minds, trapped in a world of horrors he didn’t dare to imagine.
“As you wish.” Canubis seemed almost glad about their resistance. “Lysistratos!”
The stallion dashed through the line of the wolves like black lightning. With two well-aimed kicks, he brought the palfreys down while their cursing riders fell off the saddles. Lysistratos shot Canubis a strange look, one the warlord acknowledged with a slight bow. The stallion had obeyed the Wolf of War because the situation had called for it, but the god had better not get used to it. Lys did only one person’s bidding unconditionally, and that person was Casto.