Beast of Zarall

by E B Rose

  “Do you think you can start training for the Fire Breath?” Valnar asked.

  “Yes, Owner.”

  “It’s only six days away. I know you don’t have much time, but I’ll help you train, starting tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes, Owner.”

  “I’ll send you some food.” Valnar walked over to the door, but froze with his hand on the doorknob when Beast spoke.

  “Your prince better keep his promise, or he won’t have anywhere to rule.”

  Beast’s eyes were still down. He stood as if he’d never made a sound.

  Valnar’s eyes narrowed. Did the slave just threaten Lygor’s life? He fidgeted with his cuffs, trying to decide on an answer. If it was any other time, or anyone else, Valnar would gladly eliminate the threat. But now, he didn’t want to see the purebred as a threat anymore.

  “Get some rest,” he mumbled before closing the door behind him.

  39

  DIENUS

  The light in the purebred’s eyes slowly faded.

  Dienus savoured the moment before relaxing his fingers. He’d seen it! The flame’s eyes remained emotionless at first, until the very last moment when he realized he was about to die. Then, the real fear had creeped in and the male slave saw the power of gods when he looked up at Dienus’s face.

  Unfortunately, his enlightenment only came just before his heart beat for the last time.

  Dienus was out of breath. He sat back on the male slave’s bare stomach and massaged his cramping hands. Strangling a man to death was hard work, but it was worth it; he was aroused more than he could have achieved by sex.

  He caressed the purebred’s lifeless face with the back of his hand. He bent down and pressed his ear on the slave’s smooth chest, listening for a heartbeat. Nothing but silence.

  He chuckled.

  Still sitting on his victim’s chest, Dienus reached for the paper on the bed stand. His own heart was racing in his rib cage. Ever since discovering his powers for the first time at Castle Brinescar, he never had the chance to try this again. Largely, thanks to that buzz killer Quinner, keeping him away from every city and town they came across. But Quinner was finally out of his face and Dienus could finally explore his powers of life and death.

  He read the slave’s pain word.

  The slave gasped loudly. His chest rose as he sucked a deep breath in. His eyes bulged and rolled back and forth in their sockets.

  “Welcome back to life,” Dienus whispered. He was hard, throbbing painfully. He’d never felt this powerful in his whole life.

  The slave shuddered. “No...” he whimpered as he struggled weakly. “No, Master, please...”

  Dienus had broken the slave’s purebred training. The slave was more alive now than he ever was before. And Dienus did this. He’d turned the lifeless purebred into a real, living man.

  When a knock sounded on the door, Dienus almost growled. He remained quiet, wishing the intruder would just go away. The knock insisted, then, Sir Gennald’s voice came out.

  “Master Dallus,” the knight called out loud. That was the name they’d agreed to use to disguise Dienus’s identity.

  “What?” Dienus yelled.

  “Your guest is here.”

  The slave had stopped moving under him. He held his breath as he hoped for Dienus to leave him and go. Dienus took the slave’s face between his hands. “Don’t go anywhere,” he whispered. “I’ll be right back.” He kissed the tip of the slave’s nose before hopping off the bed.

  Dienus dressed quickly. He paused with his hand on the door and glanced at his victim. The slave was forcing himself to take deep breaths. His eyes were closed, but his eyelids moved rapidly. He was trying to regain his discipline; summon his purebred training, which protected him from feeling anything his whole life.

  Dienus grinned. It was okay; he could break the man over and over again.

  Sir Gennald was waiting for him in the hallway. He’d dressed in plain clothes, but still wore a chainmail underneath his tunic. His hand rested on his sword. One of the Vogros soldiers, also dressed in plain clothes, waited on the other side of Dienus’s room.

  The hallway was lined with red painted doors. Dienus could hear moans and grunts from behind some of the doors. Although it was still early in the day, the pleasure house still had business.

  He walked down the hallway with Sir Gennald and the soldier trailing behind him. He climbed down the stairs into an area where private booths were separated by screens and curtains. Most were empty, though a few were occupied by patrons who drank, ate, and played with pleasure slaves in the privacy of screens and dim lights.

  Dienus gestured Sir Gennald to lead the way and followed him to one of the booths. His guest was a large man in his mid-thirties. He had sun roasted skin and arms like tree trunks. He was chugging a mug of beer while a female flame massaged his tense shoulders. When he noticed Dienus, he gestured the flame to leave them alone.

  “Master Dallus,” the man said, standing up. He gave Dienus a deep bow. “Thank you for seeing me.”

  “You’ve done the right thing by coming to me,” Dienus said modestly. He sat down on the couch across the man and gestured him to sit. Gennald told the soldier to watch outside the booth, while he stood beside Dienus.

  The man sat down at the edge of the couch and twirled his hands together. “I just want you to know Your High... Master Dallus... that uhm... I’ve always been loyal to your kind father...”

  “Cut to the chase,” Dienus said dismissively. “How’s Lygor?”

  The man paused before answering. “He’s... convincing. He’s obsessed with that slave.”

  “So was his father. Fool, didn’t even see what was happening right under his nose.”

  “Union thinks his plan will be successful.”

  “Which is?”

  “He wants to instigate riots, using Lion of Zarall, and get the people to overthrow King Kastian.”

  Dienus blew a raspberry. “Well, then, the old farts at the Union are bigger fools than Leonis. No offense.”

  “None taken,” the man said promptly, but the corners of his mouth twitched. “So, how are you planning to stop him, Your High... Master Dallus?”

  Dienus took his time pouring himself a glass of wine from the low table between them. He leaned back on the cushions and lifted one ankle on the other knee. “My mother has already been informed of Lygor’s health. She’s arranging my reinforcements as we speak. I shall raid Master Vadithas’s manor soon.”

  “Your reinforcements... Lord Brocton?”

  Dienus smiled.

  The man’s eyebrows shot up, but he nodded gravely. “Uhm...” he said, scratching his chin. “It’s a good plan, Master Dallus, but... I would caution against attacking the manor now. Master Vadithas’s security is very tight.”

  “In my experience, charging straight in usually helps stretching tight places,” Dienus said with a dirty grin.

  The man blinked, then forced a smile. “That’s true, Master Dallus. But... I would recommend waiting until after the Fire Breath.”

  “Why?”

  “Master Vadithas will invite Lord Brocton to the manor to celebrate Lygor’s victory and to gain Lord Brocton’s support. You can send a group of your men inside with him, and get them close enough to Lygor. I can open the doors for the rest of your men when everyone is distracted.”

  Dienus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He pursed his lips. “I’ll think about it.”

  “We just need to hope Lion of Zarall will win Fire Breath and give them a cause for celebration.”

  “Aren’t you the Master of Sands? Can’t you make sure he wins?”

  Master Ruzen’s face darkened. “I don’t fix fights, Your Highness. This is not some underground arena. Besides, Fire Breath can’t be rigged. It’s not even designed to allow the beast to win.”

  Dienus tilted his head back and laughed out loud. “Well, I don’t think we’ve got anything to worry about, Master Ruzen. Lion of Zarall has a habit of win
ning impossible fights.”

  Dienus put a hand inside his jacket and took out a rolled piece of paper. He waved the paper in front of Ruzen’s face, as if teasing a starving dog with a piece of steak. “Switchblade Arena will reopen as soon as I send this letter to the King. I will hold onto this until you prove your loyalty.”

  Ruzen nodded. “That’s fair enough, Master Dallus. In that case, we’ll both get what we want in two days.”

  40

  VALNAR

  Valnar fought as if his life depended on it.

  He sidestepped and raised his sword pointing down to block the attack. He stepped forward and slashed. Beast dropped on his haunches. Valnar parried a low thrust, then kicked. Beast rolled to the side. Valnar didn’t give him a chance to get up. He grilled him with a sequence of thrusts and cuts. Beast crawled backwards as he parried desperately. His lips were pulled back in a grimace. He made an attempt to hook his ankle behind Valnar’s knee and trip him, but the knight was expecting the move. He switched his weight and pulled his leg free. Holding his sword with both hands, he brought it down hard. The dull sound of wood clashing against wood filled the yard as their waster swords locked together.

  Then, Beast grabbed a handful of soil and threw it at Valnar’s face.

  Taking advantage of the knight’s distraction, Beast kicked behind Valnar’s knee and brought him down. The next second, he was on Valnar, his knee pressing against his chest. The tip of his wooden sword poked at Valnar’s throat.

  “Cheap move,” Valnar grunted. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the ground.

  Beast didn’t reply. He stood up and helped Valnar get up on his feet.

  Valnar patted the dust off his clothes. He rested his hands on his hips, tilted his head back and caught his breath. He didn’t feel as sour as he did the first time he lost against the slave, though it was still hard to cope with defeat. He did his best to remind himself this was the outcome they wanted. They needed Beast to win. Over the last five days they’d trained together, Beast had never lost.

  Beast was looking at him expectantly. Valnar glanced at the setting sun. He could go for another round, but the fight was tomorrow at noon and he wanted the slave to have an early night. He shook his head.

  “Why don’t you run for a few laps, then get cleaned up.”

  A hint of a smirk played across Beast’s lips.

  “No, I’m not sick of losing,” Valnar grunted. “Master Vadithas is holding a feast for Lygor and I have to be there.”

  The trace of the smirk disappeared at the mention of Vadithas’s name. Beast handed his waster sword to Valnar and started running along the fence around the training yard.

  Valnar picked up his waster sword from where he dropped it. He stood for a while and watched the slave run. He could see physical training had helped Beast. The slave was still quiet. He avoided eye contact and complied without any disrespect.

  Like how a good purebred was supposed to be, Valnar thought bitterly.

  Yet, after each training session, Beast’s eyes looked less glassy and his movements became less twitchy. Fighting was healing the injuries that couldn’t be observed.

  Valnar headed towards the barracks adjacent to the training yard. Vadithas’s armed men walked in and out of the barracks, some looking sharp and others carrying bags under their eyes. Shift change meant the evening feast wasn’t more than a couple hours away. A wooden barrel just outside the barracks door was filled with cold water. Valnar washed the dirt and sweat off his face and his hands before walking inside.

  Over the week, he’d grown accustomed to the faces of majority of Vadithas’s free men. They’d always patrolled the manor in pairs of free men and slaves. He still hadn’t figured out what the blank tattoo meant, but every slave he’d seen, whether they guarded the front gates, or boiled water for Valnar’s bath, had those. Beast didn’t know what they meant, neither did Lygor. Valnar was reluctant to ask Vadithas, partly because he didn’t want to initiate a conversation with the man, and partly because he didn’t expect any answer.

  He stacked the waster swords on the racks on the wall. He picked the cleanest towel from a basket. He sat down on one of the benches and wiped his face dry. The men were getting ready for their beds or their shifts. Valnar listened as they discussed the odds of possible outcomes and wagered bets against each other. At first, he thought they were talking about Fire Breath, but they mentioned rings, colours and zones. Valnar thought it must be one of those confusing gambling games.

  “There’s no way he can get to the Blue Zone without getting his ass burnt on the Golden Zone.”

  “They’re not gonna burn him on the Golden Zone and waste half their points. They’ll herd him back to the Red Zone for that.”

  “Nah, they’ll let him cross the River.”

  “Why the fuck would they let him cross the River?”

  “There are heaps more pits and purple rings in the second half. They can score a lot more.”

  “But they’ll score nothing if he slips and falls off the bridge.”

  “He’s right, they wouldn’t risk it.”

  “He’ll make it across the River. I’ll wager on that…”

  Valnar threw his towel in the dirty basket and headed out as their arguments got louder. Just as he pushed the door open, he heard the parts of a sentence spoken in a low, oily tone:

  “... pay you a visit. Give you a good luck kiss before your big fight tomorrow.”

  Beast was hunched over the water barrel. His hands were grasping the edges of the barrel so tight, his knuckles were white. One of Vadithas’s men leaned in close. He was holding Beast’s wrist. His earrings glimmered under the setting sun.

  “Fuck off!” Valnar roared as he strode towards the man.

  The man let Beast’s wrist go and jumped back, holding his hands up in the air in a calming gesture. His friends snickered as they walked inside the barracks together.

  Valnar was shaking out of fury as he watched them go. A vein was throbbing on his forehead. He’d recognized the men; it was hard to forget the faces of those four, even without the shiny earrings.

  Beast stood still, staring at his reflection on the water’s surface. His shoulders were tense. His face was carved out of stone. Valnar saw a glimpse of the monster he’d watched in the caged arena that night. Then, Beast blinked, inhaled and continued washing his face.

  Valnar didn’t ask if he was okay. “Let’s go,” he grunted instead.

  Beast used his sleeves to wipe the water off his face, but didn’t make a move to follow Valnar to the manor. He wasn’t holding his fist to his throat, but Valnar could see there was something he wanted to say.

  “What is it?”

  “What’s gonna happen if I win tomorrow?”

  If?

  Valnar scowled. “You’ve heard the Union. Lygor will get coronated, then we’ll head out to Euroad. Like he promised.”

  Beast still seemed bothered. Valnar’s face flushed with embarrassment as he added; “Nobody will touch you again, I promise.”

  Anger twisted Beast’s mouth for the length of a heartbeat. He gritted his teeth. “Tomorrow, if you want me to win, don’t use my Kill Word,” he said bluntly.

  “Why?”

  “Fire Breath is different,” Beast said as he started walking towards the manor. “It’s not a fight; it’s a game. I’ll need my mind. Owner.”

  41

  BEAST

  Beast was floating on the surface of the water. His grey eyes were closed. He pretended he was peaceful, but it gave him a headache. So, he just focused on how the black water tickled his face and how weightless he felt.

  The ceiling of the cave was concealed in shadows. Anywhere he looked was pure black. It made him feel warm.

  “I, one of the thirteen Demon Lords of Darkhome, can learn a great deal from Chinderian slave owners and masters,” Keder said.

  Beast rolled his eyes. He tried to tune the demon’s ramblings out and continued to focus on the warmth and the da
rkness.

  “I mean, that game they call Fire Breath... It’s genius!”

  How far did that ceiling go for exactly? It must have been as high as the sky. The silver light that emanated from the demon’s cage couldn’t even touch it.

  “You are so going to need my help tomorrow. Don’t get me wrong, but you don’t seem that smart... Well, actually, get me wrong if you want. You’re not that smart.”

  It was almost like a night sky, except it wasn’t stained by any stars, or moon. Just the night. So beautiful.

  The demon sighed. “Enough being a sook. How much longer will you give me the silent treatment for? You’re acting like a maiden.”

  Beast grit his teeth. A night sky with no stars… It was a fascinating idea.

  “Come on, talk to me.” Keder sounded like a stubborn child. “Talk to me. Talk, talk, talk...” He continued repeating the same word over and over again. Wasn’t this thing supposed to be a terrifying, all mighty Demon Lord? He was more annoying than Olira’s little brothers.

  “Talk, talk, talk, come on, talk...”

  “Shut up!”

  “It worked! Hurrah!”

  “Get the fuck out of my head!”

  “I want to. You’re not letting me.”

  Beast took a furious breath. He stared hard at the ceiling, trying to summon that peace back.

  “Alright, I know how to cheer you up.”

  Keder went quiet. Beast closed his eyes and enjoyed the silence. A dash of curiosity slipped into his mind. He resisted the urge to glimpse at the black smoke inside the cage, to see what the demon was up to. Whatever it was, Beast was going to...

  When the water started boiling, Beast flailed his arms and legs. He sank under the water. His feet found the muddy ground and he stood up. The black water felt warm, but not enough to scald his skin. In every corner of the cave, the surface of it bubbled loudly. Beast shook the water off his hair and looked around frantically.

  “What... What are you doing?”

  He watched as the water level drain from his chest to stomach. The black smoke shrank as well, though its colour turned into the darkest shade of black. It was darker than anything he’d seen before. As abruptly as it started, the water stilled again and the silence filled the cave.