Shenili: Chains of Fear, Book 1

by Jacey Jenson

  Copyright: © 2017 by Jacey Jenson, all rights reserved

  Published in The United States of America

  By Jacey Jenson, Beeville, TX

  Manufactured in The United States of America

  First edition published 2017

  Cover design © 2017, Creative Cover Concepts

  Shenili

  Chains of Fear, Book 1

  Jacey Jenson

  To all the writers I know who have helped me tweak and polish this series. Thank you!

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Preview

  Chapter 1 of Revolt, Chains of Fear, Book 2

  Note from the Author

  Coming Soon on Amazon.com!

  Chapter 1

  A still form huddled into the permacrete floor of the cage, too exhausted, and in too much pain to shiver as cold wind swept through the open bars surrounding him. Even breathing was an agonizing exertion. He tried to stop the breath in his chest. Knowing he would soon die anyway, he wanted only to get it done with. But, each time he thought he had succeeded, he fainted. His body, starving for oxygen, then took over, returned him to the nightmare he wanted to escape.

  Night had fallen the fourth time he returned to consciousness. He thought felt Lucy's concerned touch on his back. Thought he felt the icy, burning sting of antiseptic in the gashes left by the whip Keeper Delai had condemned him to. Soft hands soothed cooling ointment across his shoulders and spine. He sighed and murmured his gratitude. The hands stilled, then moved away, left him feeling bereft of much needed comfort.

  He tried to turn over, but didn’t have the strength. He moaned his frustration. The hands, those wonderful, caring hands, immediately came to his aid. He helped as much as he could, and was shaking from the pain that surged through his body with each movement, before he found himself lying on a soft comforter.

  The realization startled him. He looked up. The breath he had tried so hard to stop caught in his chest. Looking down at him were the most beautiful amber eyes he had ever seen, set in a delicate heart shaped face.

  "You're not Lucy," he mumbled.

  "No, "I'm not," said a voice he thought he should know. She bent over him, tugged the comforter around him. “I'm sorry. I didn't know . . ..”

  When she broke off, he frowned. "Didn't know. . ..” he started to prompt her, then fell silent as he realized who she was. "You're the new warder." His tone both accused and condemned. The single tear that slowly slid over her smooth cheek glimmered in the moonlight and confused him. "What do you want?"

  "It's my fault you're in here."

  In the dim glow cast by the lights illuminating the bathing troughs, she almost looked apologetic. He tried to laugh, but it hurt too much. "You're not really here, you know," he told her. "I'm dreaming this. Thali are never sorry for what they do to us."

  She flinched and turned to open a knapsack resting against her hip. "Yes, you're dreaming." She took the lid off a container, then slipped her arm under his neck to raise his head. Whatever she held under his nose smelled wonderful. "Here, while you're dreaming, you might as well dream about eating something."

  He shook his head. "It's probably poisoned."

  "Kedalt!"

  His eyebrows tried to climb into his hairline when she raised the container to her lips, and took a slurping sip.

  “Would I poison myself?" she asked, after licking broth off her upper lip.

  He continued to stare at her, but made no reply.

  She sighed, and bowed her head. "I said I'm sorry, and I am. It's my first day, vadagz, and . . . I didn't know they would do this to you. I wouldn't have reported you if I had." She pressed the lip of the container to his mouth. “Please eat. If you don't keep your strength up, you'll die of lung rot."

  For a moment, he considered her, then opened his mouth. Before he could speak, she tilted the container, poured a mouthful of warm soup inside. He had never tasted the rich, gamey meat before, but whatever it was, it was better than the gruel he had been eating the past few years. Hungrily, he chewed meat and vegetable chunks, swallowed and opened his mouth for more. When he finished the soup, he felt warmer than he had since he was taken from his home, almost too long ago to remember.

  The warder gently lowered his head to the comforter, then stroked his forehead while he dozed. He woke, not sure how long he had slept. His teeth chattered; fever chills shook him. A cold draft swept over him. He opened his eyes to see the warder he thought he'd dreamed slip under the comforter. She rested her head on his shoulder. Her arms and legs, cold though they were, seemed to wrap him in searing heat.

  "You're not here."

  "I know," she said softly. "You're still dreaming."

  He frowned. The harvest moons shown softly overhead. One of them was directly above them. He studied it. For the first time in many months, he could not hold back the memories of home. Earth. He felt his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. He moaned and closed his eyes.

  "I brought some kelna for your pain and fever," he heard her say. She shifted, then he heard a rattle. She pressed a capsule through his lips. He caught it in his teeth, and opened his eyes to look at her.

  "They're not poison," she said. Her voice held tones of exasperation. "Take it. I don't want you to catch lung rot."

  What difference does it make if it’s poison? he wondered. I’m going to die, anyway. He swallowed the capsule. His gaze returned to the moon above him. Without realizing he was vocalizing his memories, he let them wash over him. When tears came, he was dismayed. Never had he cried for his lost home. Nor had he ever allowed himself to cry in the presence of Thali. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and tensed as her arms wound around his neck. She murmured meaningless phrases to comfort him.

  He pushed her away and glared at her, intended to tell her he didn't want her pity, but the words wouldn't come when he saw that she, too, was crying. He fought the impulse that sent his arms around her. Told himself he was crazy when he pulled her against him and held her tight.

  "I didn't want to come here," she said, through her sobs. "I don't like this job. I don't like seeing you and the others ordered around and beaten for frilty reasons. I wish . . . I wish . . ..” Her sobs grew too strong for her to continue.

  Confusion welled up inside him. He'd never seen one of the Thali react so humanly. As if she were one of the vadagz who had been forced to entertain, he held her close. His hands stroked her back. A shaft of desire shot through his groin. Only for the barest second did he hesitate, then he cupped her breast with one hand, while the other arm circled her neck. He caught her face in his hand, forced her lips up to meet his.

  She stiffened, and he thought she was going to resist. “Just a kiss," he whispered against her lips. "Just one.”

  By degrees she relaxed. The kiss warmed him more effectively than the comforter or the soup had. He longed to make love to her, to show her that such an act could be more than the sordid affair most Thali made of it. But he was so tired, so very tired. "Later," he whispered drowsily into her hair. "When I wake up, I'll teach you." She nestled into his side. Just before he dozed off, he twined his fingers through her hair.

  "Later," he promised again, and slept.

  Clanging bells intruded into restless dreams. He yawned, opened his eyes, and blinked at the early morning sunshine. When he remembered the warder, he sat up abruptly. Pain throbbed through his body. He gasped and moaned while looking around to find the warder. She wasn't in the cage. The comforter was gone, as was the knapsack. There was nothing to indicate she was
more than an illusion born of fever and pain. Finally, his searching gaze located her.

  She stood before the vadagz formation in front of the kennel she was responsible for. As she gave out work orders, and assigned details, he watched for any sign of the compassion she’d shown him in the night. There was none to see. Her face, her beautiful pixie face, was shuttered. No hint of emotion showed. She turned to face him head on, and her eyes stared through him as if he didn't exist in her world.

  He gave a short, sharp bark of laughter. "It was just dream," he told himself, and felt like crying again.

  But when night returned, so did his dream.

  Chapter 2

  Gary Stetson stumbled into the courtyard of the Waelni City Vadagz Compound with the other slaves of his kennel. His sleep-blurred vision slowly cleared. He looked around as alertly as possible on a morning following a restless night of worry, fear, and little sleep. He winced.

  Warder Brezlah, her dirty blonde hair swinging behind her like a long braided club, had her fingers curled through the collar of a twelve-year-old boy. Despite his frantic attempts to twist free of her grip, the woman dragged him to the whipping post located at the center of the compound grounds. While she chained the still struggling boy, she shouted for one of the slaves to bring her the whip.

  As if he realized there was no escape, the boy, Grant, Gary thought his name was, stopped fighting. The whip in her hand, Brezlah took six paces back. The ear-popping crack followed the whip's bull roar. Gary was perversely pleased the boy had refused to cry out. But that, he knew, was only a matter of time. Blow after blow descended on the young slave's back, until, finally, ragged screams tore out of his throat.

  Gary bowed his head, unable to watch. Silently fuming, he cursed the Ladies for their cruelty, cursed the boy for stupidity. It took all his control to stand where he was. All he wanted was to jerk the whip from Brezlah’s hand and turn it on her. Just when Gary thought the warder intended to beat Grant to death, silence settled. Gary glanced up and smothered a moan. Deep gashes covered Grant's back, some so deep bloody bones showed in the bright morning light. Warder Brezlah left him hanging by his wrists, a warning to others who planned disobedience.

  Warder Silera had stopped to watch the beating, but now returned to her task of assigning work details to Kennel 5, Gary's kennel. Gary caught sight of the frown she aimed at him, and hurried to line up with the others on sewage detail. Placing the required left foot on the bench in front of him, Gary waited for the heavy iron manacle to be locked in place. He peeked at Grant, and was grateful the boy had passed out.

  Gary surveyed the compound. Dim candlelight barely glimmered in the small windows of the twelve over-crowded kennels. Most of the Terrans above the age of eleven were assembled in the courtyard, awaiting the orders of their warders. The day suddenly darkened. Gary looked up. Dark, boiling clouds sped across the sky. The brisk morning air turned chill. As a heavy mist sifted over the compound, Gary wearily bowed his head. At least the little ones wouldn't have to get out into the cold, wet climate for a while longer.

  Lassitude, caused by too little sleep and too much tension, tugged at Gary's eyelids. Blinking repeatedly to focus his eyes, he took a deep breath of the moist, heavy air. The pungent fragrance of the evergreen nyem trees foresting the hill beyond the north compound wall brought a longing for the peaceful quiet of the small clearing he had found on the far side of the hill. As often as he could, Gary slipped over the crumbling back wall, careful not to be caught, to enjoy the solitude and pretense of freedom for a short while, before returning to the sober realities of bondage.

  Doleful bells tolled, shattered the morning quiet, were abruptly silent again. Ice cold metal clasped his ankle. Warder Silera snapped the lock. Gary stared past her. He heard the others in his detail chained to him, the sharp metallic clicks loud in the near silence. Beyond the warder, Keeper Delai, somber in floor length umber robes, stepped from her office to survey the compound.

  Gary schooled his expression to keep bitterness from his face. Nor could he allow himself to express his contempt of her. Gary knew Keeper Delai mistakenly believed her kennels to be the best trained, best behaved on Thali due to her excellence as trainer and overseer.

  Contrary to her belief, the vadagz simply found life easier and safer if they obeyed. It had also made Sara's pregnancy, and now the baby born in the early morning hours preceding dawn, easier to conceal. Gary prayed for the newborn's continued safety. As long as the Keeper and her warders maintained their policy of never entering the kennels without absolute necessity, he was sure the infant would be safe. But no one knew how often, when, or in what ways the Thali captors would decide to change their policies regarding their Terran slaves.

  Cold drizzle gathered into droplets at the spiked tips of Gary's curly brown hair and dripped down his collar, traced a cold finger to his slim waist. There it stopped at the narrow belt circling his white slave tunic. He shivered.

  When Warder Silera came back to his end of the chain, Gary stared into the distance. He felt her slip something through his enameled permalite collar, and knew she was tying a leather leash to his neck. He ignored it until she jerked twice, then followed her across the grounds, past the boy at the whipping post, past the warder's apartments, and through the gate into the flurry of city streets.

  Street lamps reflected off durolloy buildings lining the Street of Many Markets, as the darkening skies caused them to turn on. Rough cobbled walkways separated the buildings from the slideway. Brightly dressed women burdened the slideway at the center of the street, some going to work, others coming to purchase items not available elsewhere in Waelni. Gary had heard sentinel whisper of illegal merchandise routinely sold along the Street of Many Markets. He sighed and turned toward the cobbled walkway. Slaves weren't permitted use of the slideway.

  Silera jerked on the leash, almost pulled Gary off his feet. She led the detail down the east bound walkway toward the substation, weaving through the women entering and exiting the small shops. She totally disregarded the curses and blows her charges received as the chain became, again and again, entangled in the crowd.

  Eyes down, Gary strove to block out the too-sweet smells of the perfumes the Ladies he passed were wearing. He shook his head to clear his mind, and wondered how they could stand to be in such large groups with all the diverse fragrances blending into an overpowering nauseous odor. He held his breath, and tried to out-distance the fumes before breathing. Distracted by the odious scents, fatigue dulled senses betrayed him. He tripped, fell heavily to his knees on the cobbled walk. Silera jerked on the leash. Gary threw his hands out to keep from pitching forward on his face.

  The warder snarled at him. "Get up, you fool!"

  Unsteadily, Gary came to his feet, watched with detached fascination as blood soaked through the ripped fabric at his knees. At least I can’t feel it, he thought wearily. I’m not sure I could stand up if I could. His thoughts shied away from the shenili treatments he had endured. He hated his captors the more for making him shenili.

  In the four years since his surgery, he had never met another cursed with being shenili. The thought of the surgery they had performed on his brain, somehow causing him to feel only pleasure, regardless what the Thali chose to do to him, made his already shaky hands shake even more. His nervous system worked properly, but his brain no longer correctly interpreted pain signals. Unbidden, memories of months spent recuperating the surgery blew through his mind, followed by a whirlwind of memories of two years training, fanning the blaze of his anger.

  Still, he admitted to himself as he watched Silera bend over to study his injured knees, there were advantages. He no longer felt pain, except as intense pressure, and that only if an injury were severe. The enhanced sensuality made shenili excellent lovers. High priced, highly prized, shenili were sex slaves, created solely for the pleasure of sadistic Thali. Gary had never been told why he had been sold back to the Waelni City Compound after less than two years’ service in the Te
mple Pleasure Dome, but he had no complaints. His shenili specialties were often required by the Ladies renting his services, but it wasn't his primary duty, anymore.

  He studied the distasteful grimace that marred Silera's almost pretty face. Pensively, she probed his lacerated flesh with her forefinger. If he was crippled, Silera would lose her position as warder. Keeper Delai was extremely proud that the Waelni City Vadagz Compound was the only such compound on Thali that had a shenili slave for rent. Gary nearly sighed his relief when Silera was unable to find any serious injury. She stood up, wiped her bloody fingers clean on his pants leg and scowled.

  At her touch, desire feathered into his groin. Gary concentrated on controlling his reaction, while Silera shook her finger under his nose. "Be more careful, vadagz. I'll cut your throat if you cause me to lose my warder's band."

  Gary clamped his teeth tight to prevent the anger inside from spilling out. Telling off a Thali woman was like walking unshielded through a disruptor field. Fatal. He remembered Sara and her new baby, and forced himself to calm down. He must not do anything, he realized, to disillusion the Keeper as to the perfection of the kennels' training.

  Head bowed submissively, Gary followed the leash, shoulders hunched against the frigid drizzle penetrating his sleeveless tunic. He kept his gaze on the walk beneath his feet, didn't raise his eyes until the persistent tugging on the leash stopped. Shivering, he surreptitiously studied Warder Silera, while she flipped through her belt ring to locate the substation key. No, he decided. She's not pretty. Her face was too long, her cheek bones too prominent, her black hair braided in the style of the temple priestesses. A beaded warder's band circled her brow. She looked human, but . . . Gary couldn't bring himself to believe the alien Thali could be. At least not normal humans.

  As she found the key she needed, Gary looked down. After opening the substation gate, Silera led them down two flights of stairs to the tool closet. She told Gary to pass out shovels and low-grade disintegrators, useless on higher life forms. She watched until each was equipped, then removed the leash from Gary's collar. For a moment, Gary met her gaze, then quickly bowed his head. Inability to feel it or not, he had no desire for a beating. Silera motioned wordlessly toward the gaping tunnel on Gary's right.