Rebels of Vulvar (Vulvarian Saga Book 2)

by J. K. Spenser

  15

  Dabar of Nisa

  Bound in a kneeling position, an officer had flayed me with a whip, shredding the tunic and leaving my back bleeding from the lash. Warriors then had thrown me before the Dabar. Though I had been a prisoner for less than an hour, my captors had already much tortured and abused me.

  One officer thrust his hand into my hair, gripped it, and forced my lips down to the Dabar’s sandal.

  “Show respect to the Dabar!” the officer snarled.

  I gathered that the Dabar had finally seen fit to end my suffering with the execution the rebel officers had promised, all the while they were whipping me.

  Before me, on a large stone, sat Cooke, his long hair over his shoulders, his great scruffy beard reaching almost to his waist. He was a massive, muscular man, his slate grey eyes wild and menacing. He was a magnificent barbarian.

  To either side of him stood warriors holding their shields and spears.

  “I ask you once more, who are you?” Cooke demanded.

  I remained silent and stared down at the ground.

  Another warrior approached me. He grabbed a handful of my hair and jerked my head up so he could examine my face.

  “I know this man, Dabar,” the warrior said with surprise. “This is the one called Tom Gray. We had sword training together when he was in the training cohort.”

  “The deserter?” Cooke said.

  “The same, my Dabar,” the warrior said.

  Cooke regarded me with a malevolent grin.

  “You are he who killed six of my warriors at the stockade, and freed my Thivan prisoners,” Cooke said. “Then, you killed the four who guarded the back gate of the city to make your escape.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “It was well done,” said Cooke in grudging admiration. “But that means you are a traitor and a spy. You realize that you must die.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “You are a brave, but foolish warrior,” Cooke said. “I have respect for your courage, but I am astonished that you have betrayed your own sex to aid our female enemies. Why? Does it please you to serve females as a slave?”

  “I have been a slave on this world, and it has not pleased me,” I said. “I don’t approve of the cruelty females inflict on men here. But neither do I approve of men subjugating women and exploiting them for their pleasure. There should exist mutual respect between the sexes.”

  “You are a fool, and naïve,” Cooke said. “What can you know of these things? The balance of mutual regard is always too delicate and cannot long be maintained. One sex must rule, the other must serve. On this world, females have enlarged their power at the expense of males. Nature’s laws require males to be dominant. It is essential to true manhood. That has been subverted on Vulvar. I intend to restore the natural order. I will end the retribution and cruelty that cloud the lives of men on this planet. Vulvar will become a world of honor and justice.”

  “Your justice,” I said.

  “Mine, if you like,” Cooke said.

  “By what right,” I challenged, “does Russell Cooke bring justice to Vulvar?”

  “You do not understand,” Cooke said. “Right itself, the right you speak of, owes its very existence to the laws of nature. Laws that dictate the dominance of men.”

  “I think that is false,” I said, shifting my position while hoping to find relief from the pain of the whip cuts on my back. “I hope it is false. I prefer the ideal of mutual respect between males and females.”

  “That is only fantasy,” Cooke said, rising to his feet. As if it were a signal, warriors stepped forward, seized me, and lifted me to my feet.

  “Shall we impale him upon our spears?” an officer said.

  “No, he is a collaborator and a spy,” Cooke said. “He does not deserve the honorable death of a warrior, but the death of a slave. He has earned the right of the veovark death.”

  “He has indeed,” the officer said.

  Cooke approached me until we were face to face. “You will be torn to pieces,” he said. “It will not be nearly as pleasant a death by impalement. Before you die, you will scream like the females you speak of so reverently.”

  Cooke then struck me forcefully in the face with a massive fist. I shook my head, almost knocked senseless by the mighty blow. I tasted the coppery tang of blood in my mouth. Someone called for torches, and the warriors dragged me away from the caravans to a clearing where they had hobbled the veovarks.

  Two warriors put the harnesses on a pair of veovarks while others untied my wrists from behind my back, before throwing me to the ground on my belly and tying separate lengths of leather rope to my wrists and ankles. Then they led a veovark to either side of me, with the heads of the great beasts pointed away from me. The warriors made fast two ropes to each of the strong animals. I then understood what was meant by the veovark death.

  The warriors intended to lead the two beasts in opposite directions while I was suspended between them until their powerful muscles ripped my limbs from my body. I suspected I would then fall to the ground in utter agony where I’d remain until I bled to death from the traumatic amputations.

  The veovarks moved forward in opposite directions. With a sickening lurch and a sharp jolt of pain, the ropes lifted my body from the ground until I was suspended between the massive draft animals. I was helpless. The ropes grew taut, and sudden wrenching pain ripped through my body. I screamed, unable to restrain it. The veovarks were pulling against one another, sending flashing wrenches of agony through my body.

  Suddenly, there was a loud snapping sound as one of the wrist ropes broke. Without thinking, I grabbed the other wrist rope and tried to force it off my wrist over my hand. There was a brief flash of pain when the second rope was torn off over my hand and darted away into the darkness. My body hit the ground, knocking the breath from me. The veovark continued forward, dragging me across the ground by the ropes still tied to my ankles. Warriors rushed toward me, but then as if by magic, the shafts of arrows blossomed in their chests. Another arrow penetrated the neck of an officer standing nearby. Shock and confusion erupted among my would-be executioners. I snatched up the sword of the fallen officer and used it to slash at the ropes tied to my ankles, cutting both. Leaping to my feet, I ran directly back toward the caravans.

  The first light of dawn was breaking. I skidded to a stop and threw myself beneath the caravan I had attempted to enter earlier. Snatching up the katana, I rolled out the other side, regaining my feet and finding myself standing in front of Dabar Cooke, who was still sitting on the large rock beside the fire at the center of the circled caravans. It seemed all the warriors had dispersed after my executioners had dragged me away and were striking the tents to prepare to resume their march.

  With a look of alarm, Cooke shot to his feet, drawing his sword. The short rakir was no match for the length of the katana. When Cooke lifted his sword to the guard position, I swatted it aside with my blade and then chopped down, separating Cooke’s sword hand from his arm at the wrist. As he grabbed at the blood-spewing stump with his other hand, I slashed his left thigh, sending him to his knees. Raising the katana high above my head, I hacked down again across the back of his exposed thick neck, the razor-sharp blade passing through the thick muscles and bone. His head plopped to the ground at his knees and rolled a short distance away.

  As I turned away from Cooke’s crumpled corpse, a dozen warriors rushed toward me with swords and spears in their hands. Arrows found homes among them, piercing backs and chests. I slashed at a warrior with an arrow protruding from his shoulder with my blade as I bolted past him and ran east as fast as my legs would carry me. Bursting into a tree line, I almost crashed into Emer, who stood with the bow in her hands. She released an arrow and then wheeled about to the east. We ran side by side through the trees and across a narrow clearing.

  As we entered another copse of trees, we arrived where Emer had tied the baacaases after leading them near the rebel camp. Behind us, pandemonium r
eigned once again. We leapt to our saddles and galloped away as fast as our mounts could carry us. Once we reached the stream, we turned the baacaases north and slowed to a trot.

  “I thought that went well,” Emer said. “I saw you finish the great Dabar before showing the rebels your heels.”

  “It wasn’t what I’d planned,” I said. “But, in the end, it seemed the only way. You disobeyed my orders. You were to wait with the baacaases.”

  “As you saw, I waited with the baacaases,” Emer said with a grin.

  “You were told to wait by the brook.”

  “Oh, I must have missed that part of your instructions, commander,” Emer smirked. “Besides, if I’d missed cutting that first rope with the arrow, you would have had no arms with which to slay the Dabar.”

  I laughed. “So, that’s why the rope snapped.”

  “What now?” Emer said with a self-satisfied smile.

  “We ride for Thiva,” I said. “After speaking with Cooke, it became clear he was the force behind the rebellion. Without him, I feel certain the rebel army will fall into disarray.”

  “You think they will retreat to Nisa?”

  “No, once they choose a new Dabar, I think they will continue the march to Thiva. But, I think now is the time to strike them on the march. If we blunt their advance, then they may lose heart and retreat towards Nisa. Our archers could then follow and harass them. We could bloody them and diminish their number on the way south until they grow hopeless and surrender.”

  “That sounds like an effective plan,” Emer said. “Assuming you can convince those in command of Thiva to adopt it.”

  “I intend to do my best to persuade them,” I said, as we continued to ride north. “Victory over the rebels and the end of the rebellion is now within our grasp.”

  16

  An Ungrateful City

  Emer and I rode straight to my mother’s residence after arriving back in Thiva. I was confident if I could convince my mother to adopt my plan, she could persuade the council to send the warriors to meet the rebels on the road.

  “Before you told me the killing of Cooke would produce a martyr,” my mother said. “It was your opinion that would only strengthen the resolve of the rebels to continue the insurgency.”

  “That’s before I met the man, mother,” I said. “It became clear to me that the force of his will drove the rebellion. Without him in command, I think the rebels will fold if we inflict substantial losses on their army before they reach this city.”

  “You are certain Cooke is dead?” my mother said. “By your account, you fled swiftly after the final encounter.”

  “Unless he lives without his head, he is dead,” Emer asserted. “I saw it roll across the ground after my commander separated it from the Dabar’s burly body.”

  “Your commander?” my mother mused.

  “Yes, your son, Tobias Hart,” Emer said. “He is a fearless and skillful warrior to whom I pledge my sword.”

  “What about your former commander, Idril?” my mother said. “It did not please her that you deserted from your unit.”

  “Should your son have gone alone against a great army, Anax?” Emer retorted.

  “Calm yourself, Emer,” my mother said. “Don’t misunderstand. I’m grateful you accompanied my son. But, you left the city without telling anyone where you were going.”

  “And, now I have returned with my victorious commander,” Emer persisted.

  My mother sighed and rolled her eyes, realizing she was fighting a losing battle.

  “I’m certain the council will not approve sending the entire army and leaving the city undefended,” she said to me.

  “That won’t be necessary, mother,” I said. “The rebels fear the bow and have few archers as I told you. We need only archers, two or three hundred if we have them, to attack the rebels along the road.”

  “We have that number available,” my mother said. “The two-hundred warriors from Port Abrago are all archers, and we have a cohort of archers among our warriors from which to draw another one hundred.”

  “Will you support the plan before the High Council?” I said.

  “Yes, I will send messengers now to call the council together for a meeting this afternoon. I agree your plan could succeed.”

  “What resulted from the battle against the rebel forces in the forests west of the city?” I said.

  “Under Idril’s capable leadership, our warriors routed the rebels, some two-hundred strong,” my mother said. “We took over fifty slaves prisoner after slaying the rest and burned all the siege engines.”

  “We must speak with Idril and discuss the plan,” I said.

  “I’ll meet with Idril before the council assembles,” my mother said.

  “I want to make arrangements for Emer and me to accompany her warriors on the attack,” I said.

  “Tobias, you cannot,” my mother said.

  “Why not?”

  “You have completed the assignment the Goddess Queens gave you by removing Cooke from the board,” my mother said. “The council only tolerated your involvement because it was the will of the Goddess Queens to make use of you. Our laws prohibit males from serving as warriors. You have finished your part in it. Emer can rejoin her unit, but my son, you will remain here in the city.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I said.

  “Tobias, you know the ways of this world. We’ve discussed it many times. It is now up to our warriors and allies from Port Abrago to end the rebellion.”

  “Do you wish to rejoin your unit, Emer?” I said.

  “Not if this city will not allow you to go with the warriors, commander,” Emer said stubbornly.

  “Good, you’ve done more than your share for this ungrateful city,” I barked.

  Turning to my mother, I said, “Emer will remain here with me. I will not risk her further.”

  “Emer, you must stop calling him commander,” my mother scolded. “No good will come from it.”

  * * *

  About the eleventh hour, my mother returned from the council meeting.

  “The council has agreed to the plan,” she said. “Idril is organizing the warriors to march. A cavalry unit will be in the vanguard. The archers will follow.”

  “What is Idril’s plan?” I said.

  “Once the cavalry locates and contacts the rebels, she will split her force. The Port Abrago commander will lead her warriors to the east of the road, and Idril will lead her archers to the west. Then on a pre-arranged signal, the rebels will meet a wall of arrows.”

  “That plan should succeed,” I said. “Did Idril feel confident?”

  “Yes, she was pleased with the plan. Once she has stopped the advance, if the rebels retreat south, our warriors will pursue and kill them all the way to Nisa if necessary.”

  “I only wish I could be there to see it,” I said.

  “You’ve done your portion, my son. It’s time to let our warriors do their part.”

  “I wish I could speak with Idril before she marches,” I said.

  “There is no time for it as the warriors will march as soon as they have completed the preparations,” my mother said. “You will see Idril when she returns. She was pleased to hear that you returned safely.”

  It seemed all Emer and I could now was wait.

  17

  Revenge

  Two days after the archers of Thiva and Port Abrago under the command of Idril had left the city, the first messenger arrived with news of the campaign. The messenger told my mother the warriors had stopped the rebel advance seven legas south of Thiva. She reported that the archers had inflicted heavy casualties. The rebels were retreating south. Idril’s forces were still pursuing and attacking. The messenger had concluded her report with a worrying piece of news my mother related to me later at her home.

  “Idril has been wounded during the battle against the rebel army,” my mother said.

  “Wounded?” I said. “How serious is it?”

  “Serious enou
gh that she passed command of our forces to her deputy Nalia. But, the messenger had no further details.”

  “I must go to her,” I said.

  “You cannot go to her, my son. In the confusion of battle, our forces might mistake you as a rebel combatant.”

  “I will accompany him,” Emer said.

  “No, neither of you are leaving the city,” my mother said firmly. “If Idril’s wounds are serious, they will bring her back here.”

  I was beside myself with rage, but it was clear I would not persuade my mother to allow me to go to Idril. With growing impatience, I passed the evening in her home until we all retired to bed. Then I belted on my sword and left the house. I walked to the military stables where Emer and I had returned the baacaases when we had returned to Thiva.

  At the stables, I found three warriors on watch, walking the perimeter. I waited for them to pass and then slipped inside. Spotting the baacaas Idril had arranged for me use previously, I threw a saddle on its back and began tightening the girth. Suddenly, I felt the point of a spear pressed firmly against my back.

  “Don’t move,” a voice said. “On your knees with your hands on top of your head.”

  Turning my head, I saw two other warriors with their spears at the ready beside the one pressing her spear against my back. Knowing they would skewer me long before I could draw the katana, resistance would have been useless. I dropped to my knees and placed my hands on top of my head.

  “Shackle him,” the same voice said.

  I felt the cold steel of shackles as a warrior locked them onto my wrists. After they had taken my sword, hands hauled me roughly to my feet. I turned to face the three warriors.

  “You’re under arrest, thief,” one warrior said.

  “I am not a thief,” I said. “Idril, commander of the warriors, allowed my use of this baacaas. I need it again.”