Beast of Zarall

by E B Rose

  Her lips parted. Dienus grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her lips to his mouth. She responded with a muffled moan and just enough tongue to steal his breath. His other hand was still at her throat.

  The flame’s pulse did not skip a beat.

  “Take your clothes off.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  She slipped out of her clothes. Her movements were slow but eager. Dienus pushed her to the bed. She started playing with herself while Dienus hurried out of his clothes. Her body was trembling with arousal. Dienus climbed on top of her, and buried himself in her. She screamed with pleasure. Her head was tilted back, her eyes half-closed. Her body joined Dienus’s movements, caught his rhythm. She wrapped herself around him and welcomed him with a vicious hunger.

  Dienus wanted her to scream again, so he made her. The sounds she made were closer to moans than they were to screams. Her voice didn’t carry a hint of fear. Every pain he inflicted on her seemed to elicit more pleasure. Even when his fist busted her lip, she just seemed to want him more.

  Dienus put his hand on her throat. Her heart was beating slightly faster. It was better, but still not enough to satisfy the need.

  The paper was still on the night stand, where it was left. Dienus reached for it, although he felt like cheating. Still keeping a hand on her throat, he whispered her Pain Word: “Juulusligentha.”

  The slave’s body stiffened, cramped, and shook with pain. Dienus held her tight. He savoured the way her muscles convulsed under him. Her pulse stopped for several seconds, then started racing as if her heart was trying to break out of her chest.

  “That’s it,” he whispered. “Feel that. Feel that.”

  Pain Word wouldn’t last long enough. Her painful scream was replaced by sobs and gasps, which were now turning into moans. Her face twitched with pain, but her eyes still showed no fear. Even her pulse was slowing back down.

  The need was disappointed.

  Dienus straightened up and placed both hands around her throat. Strangling was not easy, as he had discovered on his first time. He had gotten better at it though. He kept his elbows straight and put his weight on it.

  “They all say purebreds don’t want anything,” Dienus purred as he watched the slave’s face. “They don’t even have a shred of desire in them.”

  The flame’s eyes were fixed on the ceiling. Her face was starting to turn purple, but she didn’t fight him.

  “All I see is a woman who wants nothing but another gasp of breath. Show me how much you want it.”

  The girl’s hands started caressing Dienus’s arms and shoulders, as if this was only making her more aroused. She pressed her hips against his. Dienus wanted her to get over with the acting and show him something real. He watched her eyes, which were still fixed on the ceiling and blank.

  “Show me,” Dienus grunted. His voice was strained from the effort and his hands were getting tired. “Come on. Show me.”

  When he did this with a freeborn slave, this was when they would start fighting him. They would finally comprehend he wasn’t going to let go, and fear would take over. Their eyes would widen with panic, and Dienus would watch them lose their light slowly. He could almost see their rhoa leaving their body.

  However, he could never observe any of this in purebreds. They would continue acting as if they wanted nothing more than to please him, yet their eyes would remain blank. He couldn’t even recognize the moment their life escaped from their body. It was almost as if they were never alive in the first place.

  They didn’t have any rhoa, after all.

  Except Dienus knew they did.

  He had seen it in Lion of Zarall. He had watched that beast’s face twisting with real anger, hatred, and grief. Dienus saw how he was possessed by madness. If that troublesome purebred had a rhoa, others would have them too.

  “Stop pretending,” he growled. “Show me something real.”

  The purebred continued grinding against him, although her face had turned on the darkest shade of purple. He had promised his brother that he was going to be careful. He could not afford angering his mother by killing another expensive purebred. The girl’s arms and legs were already slowing down. If he didn’t let go now, it was going to be too late.

  He released the pressure.

  The moment before he pulled his hands back, he saw it!

  The purebred closed her eyes and took a ragged breath which turned into a cough. Her neck was already bruising. Dienus turned her face towards him with a sense of urgency. “Look at me. Open your eyes. Look at me!”

  She opened her eyes with a moment’s delay and looked at his face, though not directly into his eyes. They were empty again. Blank, lifeless, fearless eyes.

  He gritted his teeth, fuming. He had just seen it. The moment before he released her neck, he had seen a glint in her eyes; a spark of fear. Real fear. It was right there. He had to see it again.

  The need urged him.

  Dienus grabbed her neck. The muscles in his hands and forearms were burning, but he didn’t care. His fingers dug deep into her flesh. He was watching her eyes carefully to see that glint again. He wanted to witness her fear; not this fake struggle she was putting up. He wanted the real thing.

  The purebred’s face turned an ugly purple. She opened and closed her mouth, gasping for air. Her eyes were fixated on the ceiling.

  Anytime now, Dienus thought.

  Her arms fell on the bed, and her act slowed down.

  “Come on,” mumbled Dienus. He was afraid his arms were going to let him down before he could defeat her. He took a deep breath to refresh his strength and pressed harder.

  Her windpipe crushed in his hands.

  “No. No!” Dienus let go. For a brief second, he thought the girl was going to blink and start coughing, but she remained silent. Her mouth was open and her face was as blank as before.

  She was dead. He had just killed another purebred.

  Dienus breathed through his nose. His low growl turned into a raging roar. He punched her emotionless, dead face.

  “Stupid bitch!”

  His muscles ached, but he punched her again and again to emphasize every word. “Fucking. Worthless. Piece of. Whore.”

  He climbed out of the bed, kicked his bedstand, and howled, holding one foot and hopping on the other one. A jolt of pain spread from his toe to all his leg. “Fucking bitch!” he cursed.

  He sat down on the floor with his back against the bedframe, waiting for the pain to pass. He couldn’t believe he killed another purebred. His mother was going to be pissed!

  “Stupid purebred,” he moaned with frustration. Why couldn’t she show him what he needed to see? The need was to prove that he had the power to break a purebred. To make them feel real fear. She had to die, didn’t she? He wanted to hurt her for this, but he couldn’t even do that now. The bitch had gotten away.

  He didn’t remember where he had left that before, but he noticed the piece of paper was on the floor. He picked it up and looked at the purebred’s two Words on it. “Juulusligentha,” he read, just to relive how the word made her scream and squirm before.

  The last thing he expected was to hear her scream again.

  Dienus yelped and jumped away from the bed. He tried to get up, but his legs forgot how to work together. All he could do was to crawl on his naked butt, all legs and arms, until his back was against the furthest wall from the bed. He opened and closed his mouth, just like the purebred did before she died. For a brief moment, he couldn’t breathe either. Which was hilarious, because that’s exactly what the girl was doing right now.

  The purebred was thrashing on the bed, whimpering. Her flesh was convulsing in agony. She gasped for breath between her screams and coughs. Holding her neck, she turned to her side and her eyes met with Dienus’s. The wild, blonde hair covered half her face, but Dienus still saw enough of it.

  The purebred was alive. She was more alive than she ever was before.

  Seconds passed until Dienus collected h
imself enough to try standing up again. The purebred whimpered and cowered in bed. The Pain Word had resided, but her breathing was still strained. Her neck was injured. Her face was bruised from Dienus’s punches. Yet, she was very much alive.

  “You were dead,” Dienus whispered. “I swear on Twelve dragons’ tails, you were dead.”

  But there she was now, crying and shaking her head, possessed by real terror, as she watched her killer come closer. Dienus had killed her. He had felt her heartbeat stop under his hands. And now, he had brought her back. Raised her back from the dead. Like Twelve Riders did in the old tales.

  He had the power of gods.

  The need soared in triumph.

  The doors of his chambers opened with a loud crack. Two seconds later, his bedroom door swung open. Dienus took a sharp breath to yell at the intruder, but swallowed the poisonous words when he saw who it was.

  “Mother? Wh-what...?” Remembering he was naked, he snatched his clothes off the floor and held them in front of him. Guilt and embarrassment flooded his face red. “Mother, what are you doing here?”

  Her hands on her hips, Queen Inoeveth scanned the room with disapproval. Her green eyes narrowed when she saw the purebred, who had thrown herself on the floor and greeted her on hands and knees. She was still coughing and wheezing, and for a moment, those were the only sounds in the room.

  “Go find the physician and get that checked.”

  “Yes...” She was interrupted by a violent cough. “M... Mas...”

  “Get out!”

  The purebred dashed to the door, not even bothering with her clothes. Dienus bit his lips as he watched her stumble out of the room. “I didn’t kill her,” he said, not liking how his voice sounded like a guilty little boy.

  “Get dressed. You’re leaving in an hour.”

  “Wh- what? Why? Where?”

  “We’ve got intel on the beast’s whereabouts.”

  Dienus didn’t need to ask which beast. There was only one they cared about. He straightened up eagerly.

  “I’m giving you fifty men,” Queen Inoeveth continued. “You’ll go to West Kilrer and bring him back. I’m sending Emberlash to help you pack.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “I will arrange for Lord Heltez’s son to meet you up at Riverdam, but do not wait for him if he is late. The beast is your priority.”

  “As you wish, Mother.”

  Without another word, Queen Inoeveth turned to leave. “I won’t disappoint you,” Dienus promised behind her, but she neither responded, nor slowed down.

  Dienus took a deep breath after she left. He remembered the look on her face as she scanned the room, expecting to find a dead slave, and her surprise to find the purebred alive. He chuckled.

  By the time his servant Emberlash arrived with two house slaves to help him pack up, Dienus was fully dressed. While the slaves worked, he picked up the piece of paper that had the flame’s Words on it.

  He had just discovered how to satisfy the need and he couldn’t wait to explore his discovery in detail.

  “It’s pain,” he muttered to himself. “Pain brings life.”

  5

  BEAST

  Beast felt like he had lived this moment before; walking behind Warrior the mule, keeping up with its pace in order to avoid a yank, while the iron chain swung between them with every step. And he was right; he did experience this moment before. But his memories were hazy and slippery.

  Beast was drugged with a powerful -and deadly- painkiller when Olira first bought him -was forced to buy him. Side effects of pemitoin had almost killed him on the way to Olira’s farm. If it wasn’t for her knowledge with herbs and spices, and her ability to create a paste that would counter the effects, Beast would be dead.

  Although she was the reason he still breathed, Beast never felt like his Owner saved his life. All she had done was to save her own investment.

  He glanced at Olira, who was walking in front of the mule. She had taken her travel cloak off not long ago, though Beast was still wrapped in his blanket. The sun was high up and the sunlight blazing in the cloudless sky had taken the edge off the chill, but it was still colder than Beast was used to.

  There were many things he had missed about his life as the King’s champion Beast at Castle Brinescar. Good food was one of them. Sleeping on an actual bed and working out every day under the scorching sun were the others. He wondered if he had somehow returned to that simple, safe life, would he still want his freedom?

  He knew the answer was no. Not after he’d met Saradra. Not after she’d thought him how to want, how to desire. How to feel.

  A burning hot pain scorched his chest at the thought of Saradra. He forced himself to breath deeply, silently, as he tried to push the image of Saradra’s broken body away from his mind. The skin on his hands crawled with the memory of her warm blood between his fingers. He breathed in and out, steadily, focusing on the dirt road under his feet. Keeping his face blank.

  He was used to pushing physical pain away with each controlled breath. He convinced himself this wasn’t all that different.

  Olira pulled Warrior towards a tree on the side of the dirt road. “The town is an hour away,” she announced as she tied Warrior’s lead to one of the lower branches. “We’ll take five minutes. You can sit down.”

  Beast eyed the dry soil under the tree, but he didn’t sit down. The chain wouldn’t allow him. He waited, shifting his weight from side to side, until Olira noticed it. Her face blushed when she did. She released the chain from the saddle and watched him sit down under the tree, crossing his legs.

  Olira drank from the water skin and passed it on to him. “Are you having another fever?” she asked, her voice full of dread and accusation.

  Beast was wrapped in the blanket, his face flushed and sweaty from walking, still breathing deeply. Before he could answer, Olira was already hovering over him, feeling his forehead. Beast tensed, but did not flinch away.

  “Are you feeling unwell?”

  “No, Owner.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, Owner.”

  “You wouldn’t be hiding another injury, would you?”

  “No, Owner.”

  She sighed and let him have his drink. She sat down on the other side of the tree, with her back to him. She was fidgeting as if she couldn’t find a comfortable spot.

  “Master Tholthus is a good man,” she said finally. “I mean, he can be a bit greedy sometimes, a bloody good haggler. But... he’s not a bad person.”

  Beast’s eyes narrowed as he sat still. She was neither asking a question, nor giving an order, so it didn’t require an answer. Yet, her pause indicated she was expecting to hear a response. He felt anxious for not knowing what she wanted to hear.

  “I don’t like this either,” Olira said. “But my family needs supplies for the winter. Especially after I’ve left everything I’ve bought from Kiore behind, to carry you instead.” Accusation dripped from her voice.

  A small whisper at the back of Beast’s head encouraged him to talk to her. However, the only form of communication he knew was to answer questions and acknowledge orders. Having a conversation with a free woman felt like a skill he didn’t have.

  Saradra had tried to teach him how to have a conversation like a free man. Her methods were… inspiring.

  When the hot pain scorched his chest again, Beast focused on breathing, until it went away.

  Olira sighed at his silence. “Let’s go,” she said.

  When they arrived at Oxreach an hour later, Beast’s mind was still busy trying to suppress the memory of Saradra’s sight and voice and smell as deep as he could. Her loss was too painful to confront. He had other problems to worry about. Like being on his way to be sold to a guy named Master Tholthus, who’d no doubt recognize the brands on his chest. Kastian was going to find him, then he’d be on his way to White Tower.

  They walked past a couple of farms and he noticed the houses starting to get smaller and the dis
tance between them shortening. The dirt road widened between the houses, still muddy from last night’s rain where it remained under the shade of the brick buildings. The residences were separated from each other with high walls, which appeared green with moss, but most stores and workshops had direct entry from the street. Similarity of the buildings and the well-maintained road gave the town an orderly appearance.

  The sunny weather seemed to pull people out of their houses. They walked past a group of women chatting by the town well, who stared at Beast while frowning at Olira. Craftsmen stood at the door of their workshops to look. A child who hadn’t noticed Beast until he was almost next to him dropped the basket of apples he was carrying.

  Beast was used to people staring at him; it used to happen every time he stepped outside Castle Brinescar. People had formed crowds around him to catch a glimpse of the famous Lion of Zarall. It made Badimar, Master of the Beast and his trainer, get overprotective and yell at the guards to keep the crowd at a distance. Beast neither enjoyed the attention, nor disliked it.

  Olira, on the other hand, clearly did not appreciate the stares.

  Olira’s jaw was clenched so hard, Beast could almost hear her teeth grinding. Her back was straight and her eyes were firmly fixed ahead. An angry Owner was never a good thing and Beast couldn’t help but feeling this was somehow his fault. He hunched under the blanket and wished people had minded their own businesses and stopped pissing off his Owner.

  They headed to the largest building in the town square. The letters on the sign said this was a general store. Olira tied Warrior to the post at the side of the building. Beast barely had the time to take his blanket off before she nearly dragged him inside the building.

  The store had wide windows that invited plenty of sunshine. Shelves and shelves of products - bags of grain, flour, salt, rolls of paper, books, several bolts of clothes, small statues of the Twelve Riders, various kitchenware, and leather belts and shoes - occupied one side of the spacious store room. There was a counter and a door leading to the backside of the building.