“This Goddess must be powerful,” she added, her voice rising.
I dipped my head between my shoulders and shook from laughter. “Aye, so it would seem. She says that any who believes can have magic and that we are all Children of The Goddess, men and women alike,” I spoke to the floor, not missing the sharp intake of breath from those around me. “She also says that there is more magic here than her homeland of Talamh na Sithe, if only we follow the Goddess.”
“We followed the Goddess in my homeland,” Zaya started. “We had magic, I’ve just forgotten how to use it,” she finished with a wink at me, and I knew she was lying. She used her magic in subtle ways, and no doubt, she used it all the time.
Throughout the day, customers came, and whispers passed over the counter along with packages of meat. High ranked house slaves and pets were allowed to shop unchaperoned. While I stayed in the back, carving meat and stabbing carcasses, the men up front spread fantastical tales about Teagan, magic, and Goddesses that I am sure grew with each telling.
By the end of the day, Teagan was riding dragons and making the moon rise. I heard snippets of their conversations and chuckled to myself, even as I worried about Ang’ali too. There would be retribution for Teagan’s actions- and mine. Ang’ali bore watching. My Trio’s time with her was the worst in all our days, and I knew from personal experience that she would not let this go. She was by far the most brutal Warrior in the land, the Queen herself was not so cruel, and her cruelty is legendary.
Ang’ali had killed her last Trio as they did not please her. It was said she tortured them to death in secret chambers hidden below the slave pens. We had never been able to find those rooms, but I had no doubt they existed.
Her current Trio was so near death Kharis had pulled them from her and sent them to the medical wing of the pens to recover.
Lyros, Kar, and I spent nearly a year with her, and it was horrible. Her pleasure stems only from causing pain, and she is an expert at it. She would watch as others beat us, or fucked us. She would engage in sex with us as well, but preferred women and would often watch us fuck her lovers, then carve into our skin with her blade when we pleased them too well.
Kharis pulled us from her when it was clear we would be the next Trio to die at her hands, leaving Ang’ali none too happy. She would want revenge for Teagan having us, and she would want to make us pay for the show we unintentionally put on in the halls.
As the day wore on, I worried more. The sun neared the horizon, yet she did not come for me. It could mean anything and nothing, but my worry increased significantly as the shadows grew.
“She will come, Syl’ta. Eat dinner with me first; then, she will be along,” Zaya muttered as we worked to close the shop. I cleaned counters and put away tools, tucking a knife into the band of my skirt. Lyros could sew as he often fixed the horses’ tack. It would be nothing for him to make a pouch or three. I would pilfer knives as long as they continued not to be missed so that we would have them.
I ate a simple meal of stew with vegetables and freshly made bread covered in churned butter. I was silent as the shadows faded away into darkness. Still, Zaya sat, unconcerned, humming a tuneless song. Closing my eyes, I stilled against the wall and waited, praying for the first time to The Goddess, who calls herself mine, that Teagan was safe.
I waited until I could wait no more. As a man, I could not leave this place without an escort, or Teagan and I both would face severe punishment. But I was more than a man. I slipped deep behind my closed eyes and found my new magic. A painful shiver ran through me as I fell into the form of a large, white Artach Fox with blue eyes and a black streak down its pelt. After shaking my fur and eyeing the broad smile on Zaya’s face, I slipped into the night.
Chapter Fifteen
Kar
There are no secrets in Eregion. None. I had been at work for only a few hours when rumors of Syl’ta and Teagan’s run-in with Ang’ali and Rowana began to spread. Slaves are unnoticed here, and the walls have more eyes than warriors realize.
Where one slave gossiped that Syl was raping Teagan in the halls and Ang’ali interrupted, another whispered that Syl and Teagan were caught unawares in the throes of great passion and were attacked by the spiteful witch. I knew which rumor I believed.
The network of slave chatter is loud and extensive. Each slave to a one stated that Teagan had pressed her sword against the larger woman’s throat and drawn blood.
We would pay for that. All of us.
The thing the forgers liked most about me is that I rarely spoke, but once the rumors began to fly, that changed. I talked all day, quietly answering questions about Teagan’s healing and magical powers. I waxed endlessly about her keen mind and kindness, while not forgetting to mention her generosity in bed and liberal thoughts on sexual pleasure.
We are men, after all. We might be slaves. We might even be sex slaves, but we are still men, men who hoped one day for freedom and equality. If we could not have equality, we at least wanted a voice; dreamed of a voice.
With Teagan as our ruler, we would have that. I felt it in my soul. I can’t believe Kharis would bring a Fae to this place. Other races seemed more malleable to life here, but the Fae are notorious for their fire and independence. They are the antithesis of the Eruhini; Dark to Light and Fire to Ice. When our paths diverged, they grew even more so while we shrank, melting and twisting away under the mountains of snow and oppression that rule here. Or so it seemed from the outside.
Under Kharis’s rule, we changed. We forgot. She killed her father so long ago no one remembers the King of Eregion. Oppression is insidious. It happens so slowly that by the time you realize what’s happening, it’s too late, you’re on your knees, and the heel of the boot is above you.
Should we win our freedom, it will never happen again. Once I pick up the sword, only death will part it from my hands. We will learn and move forward to make a better place. A place where fierce women can love fierce men, not enslave them.
I believed.
I kept the forges and the gossip running hot. I told no lies. I spoke of Teagan’s thoughtfulness and her deep connection with her Goddess. I spoke of how the Goddess promised us power and freedom in return for following her.
Still, in this land, promises are like snow; they pile up and melt away on a whim of the weather. I knew not if my words carried any weight, but I knew they spread and built in the retelling.
And that was my goal.
At the beginning of my day, I was told to be silent a dozen times by the warrior swordsmiths, but by the end of the day, they strained to hear my words, not silence them. I worked harder than I ever had in their presence and let them think it was Teagan’s influence in my life. The joy she brought that made my hammer hit faster, and shovel hold heavier loads. Maybe they believed she motivated me and wondered what influence that kind of esteem would have on their relationships.
I saw their speculative looks as I whispered to my peers while our watchers pretended not to hear. Other slaves and warriors came with their own tales no doubt spread from my brothers or created by others, and the fire built with such speed I knew that three months was no longer our timeline. If we survived three days in the heat of these flames, it would be a miracle.
As the day drew on and my muscles tired, I pulled energy from the ores around me to supplement my strength. I urged the coals to burn hotter and the metal to shape faster and blade after blade was created in a way that had never happened before. The warriors supervising us began to whisper about magic, and I hid my smile.
Sweat poured down my back and arms as I made my hammer sing. The more magic I funneled from the earth around me, the more charged the air became. The forge smelled of Ozone, and the violent thunderstorms spring brings. No one knew from where the magic came, but their eyes cut my way anyhow. I kept my head down and my lips loose.
My tattoos tingled with unspent magic, and I knew every word The Goddess spoke was the truth. The more I accepted it, the more my tatt
oos tingled. I wondered how Teagan managed to walk around like nothing was different or how she harnessed so much magic in her tiny frame.
Magic permeated the air and spread to the halls beyond. Those around did not understand what it was, but they sensed something was different. Eventually, I went silent again. My job done, to speak anymore would draw unwanted attention.
The afternoon wore on, and Teagan did not come for me. I knew she had training with Pameline, but it had not been her plan to stay long. There were no missions scheduled that we knew of, and we planned to regroup and train privately in the tunnels buried deep below the mountains and away from watching eyes.
I planned to go to the pens and stay as long as necessary to evaluate gossip while gathering those supportive to the cause of freedom. I would talk of the Goddess and show my power to allies and encourage them to believe. Together, we could lay claim to the future and our destiny.
Afternoon turned into evening, and my unease grew. The warriors cast irritated glances at the door and wondered aloud where Teagan was. They wanted dinner and their beds and did not attempt to hide it.
I went to my knees and cast my eyes downward, saying, “Mistress, you may take me to the pens, and I will await my Warrior there,” to the nearest warrior.
Sighing, she dropped her hammer. “Fine, pet, I will take you. I want a bath and my Trio else I would wait longer. You’ve been a model slave today. I will make sure Kharis knows of your obedience. Your new Warrior has done an excellent job taking you in hand.” She petted my head idly, and I hated that she touched me at all.
I didn’t think she meant to offend. She doubtfully figured I could be offended, but I was. Rising, I followed her broad back through the halls toward the pens, wishing for the comfort of Teagan and our bed.
Chapter Sixteen
Lyros
I hate horses and horses hate me. Always have. Always will. They eyed me over their stalls, snorting and striking if I came too near. It was bad before but so much worse now that the wolf within was freed.
Usually, a kind word would calm the beasts, but there was no calming them now. The big fuckers knew a wolf walked among them despite my appearance.
I had no need to seek my peers out for gossip as they found me. A steady stream of men sought me out, asking questions, and telling tales. I was careful, should I become suddenly agreeable, they would question my motives. Instead, I grunted and glared my answers to their questions, swearing and talking conspiracies as was my norm.
I trusted no one, and everyone knew it.
I spoke of Teagan in curious tones but wondered aloud about this Goddess of hers. Magic was dangerous, I said. Magic would lead to more oppression, not less. Yes, this Goddess had appeared to me and invited me to believe, but what were her motives? I chuckled inwardly as the eyes of the men I toiled next to took to heart the suggestion that magic was theirs for the taking, despite my warnings against it.
A person under the thumb of another will look for any way to level the battlefield. It was easy to spread the tale of magic and freedom while maintaining my guise of disbelief. In fact, it worked better than if I sang the praises of the thing.
More than once, I spit out that Teagan cared about our comfort and pleasure only to follow it with a statement about how little I trusted it. I mean, seriously? A female catering to my needs as a man? That couldn’t be right. I’d watch their eyes go soft and distant at the thought of it as they walked away from me, shaking their heads.
When word came back that Syl’ta and Teagan were caught fucking violently in the halls, my work was done for the day. They said he held her by the throat and pounded away at her with feral abandon and that her cries of pleasure were so loud she disturbed the Queen in her sleep. I chuckled at the thought.
Males are still men. When I let it slip that she had placed her mouth on my cock despite my protests to stop, the men around me were converts, and I heard them praying to the Goddess that their warriors might slip up and do the same.
A prayer is a prayer, and I wondered how many slaves would feel that particular pleasure tonight as their prayers were answered. I mean, surely their prayers would be answered, right? If The Goddess wanted her people to believe in her, then I figured she’d answer any request that came her way. At least for now. I chuckled aloud at the thought.
I used magic as I cleaned, the fresh ozone smell of it broiled from me, and my natural scent Teagan describes as wild things and lightning deepened, sending the horses around me into a frenzy. I worked harder and faster than I ever had, cleaning stalls and replacing their bedding.
I had others help me move horses since I could not get my hands on them without risking death. I shook my head at their curious glances and suggested that maybe this weird Goddess made them afraid of me. Any phrase I said was repeated over and over, growing as it spread.
The stables were barely supervised, and Warriors came in and out only to have horses tacked and untacked. A few lingered, listening to the gossip that was common among the slaves. I saw their speculative glances and hoped this attempt to stir the pot did not lead to our death.
It was difficult for me to trust. I trusted my brothers, but just barely. We were all in the same poisonous pit, and I had faith that was a good enough reason alone for them to be trustworthy. I trusted Teagan somehow. And somehow, I believed in this Goddess, but it was not easy or natural for me.
I did as we planned the night before and spread what word I could, hoping I would not meet death at the end of the Queen’s sword or worse as my words spread.
Shadows licked through the stables, and Teagan did not come for me. My reluctance turned to fear when the aisles darkened, and electric lights came on, and still, she did not come. Most of the men had been picked up by their warriors, and only a few remained. Those few were assigned to stay overnight to see to the needs of warriors wanting horses or the horses themselves.
I slid onto a bale of hay by the entrance to the stables and waited. The air chilled despite the heat from the fires below and bumps raised on my arms. My tattoos tingled, and arcs of lightning shot from hand to hand if I placed them close together.
Something was very wrong. The plan had never been to remain at our duties all day. In this land where trust extended to the tips of your fingers and no further, I knew something was afoot. Closing my eyes, I went into a state of meditation, looking for my wolf. He ran as though he were being chased and ripped out of me, causing excruciating pain. My bones ripped from my body and remade themselves into sinew and fur, and I blacked out.
When I awoke, chest heaving and heart racing, the stables were in chaos. Pain racked my body as I dragged myself up and tottered out the door.
Chapter Seventeen
Teagan
Training with Pameline went well. As First Anvil, she wielded a war hammer with extreme precision and skill. The war hammer is a weapon I have struggled to learn. By its nature, it lends itself to extremely close combat, and the brutality of it is beyond anything I experienced with a sword.
The concept of it evaded me. Why engage in close combat when you can defeat your enemies from feet away using a finely honed length of steel? After she explained that swords aren’t always practical and require more reach and space, I understood.
She demonstrated various moves on dummies made of cloth and the carcasses of inedible animals. I mirrored her movements and soaked up her insight on the weight and balance of the weapon in my hands.
By mid-afternoon, my muscles were screaming, but the hammer sang in my hand like a finely tuned instrument. Pameline deemed me competent where before, apparently, I was not.
My sword had always been an extension of my arm, and only Airmed was better with one. According to the Captain of the Swordsmen and her mate, Lann, she was better than even he. Ari and I were a near match, and I knew I could best almost any enemy with sharpened steel.
Now that I understood the war hammer, I felt the same way. I flowed, striking quickly and moving through the train
ing coarse Pameline had set up for me. It’s impossible to spar with a hammer, but we did practice with our hands, simulating movements and strikes as if we fought to the death. I was First Fist and excellent in hand to hand combat, so once I understood the hammer, I was hard to beat.
The training rooms were not private, and warriors came and went throughout the day, many stopping to watch our session. Word would reach Kharis, I was sure, but she expected us to train daily, and I couldn’t help that I learned fast with an excellent teacher.
I had stripped my clothes down to the barest swath of fabric. My tattoos swirled on my skin as I danced with Pameline, bare feet tapping a staccato rhythm against the dirt and dust kicking up around us. I imagined the picture we made.
I didn’t use magic to augment my speed or strikes, but I felt it there for the calling. Should I choose, I could be First Anvil. I knew that. Pulling Pameline into a hug, I thanked her. Even though she used a lash like a fiend, she was my sister here. I stayed longer than I planned.
Afternoon sun drifted through high windows, giving the illusion of warmth. I went to the showers to clean the sweat and dirt off, leaving Pameline to train her next warrior, and I wondered why I was not tasked with teaching swordsmanship.
Deep in thought, I heard the door to the shower room open and close quietly. I did not hear footsteps. Feeling the charge in the air, I left my shower on and tiptoed naked into the changing rooms. Slipping the swath of fabric around me quietly, I moved again to the weapons room to pick up my sword, and the hammer Pameline had given me. I slid both into the sheath I eased soundlessly onto my back.
“Where is that bitch,” Ang’ali whispered. “She’s in here somewhere, find her.” Bodies eased through the empty changing space headed toward the sound of running water.
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