Chapter 10: Those Who Remain

Those Who Remain

Ever present, so much so that Maloth barely ever registered their existence, the storm clouds hung thick and heavy over the wide stone docks of Amindaer, as they did the rest of the city. Built to withstand the treachery of the ocean, each of the dozen berths rested on two rows of square stone pillars three feet on a side. Anywhere in the world, the docks would be considered a marvel of design, a sight to behold, but again he barely saw them.

Days it had taken for his rage to ebb, a fury so hot it had overtaken him completely, a white-hot blaze stoked by betrayal. The one who was meant to be by his side forever had left him, and if that weren’t enough, she had seen to the assassination of many of his best captains before she went. Just the thought of it began to boil in him anew. Once the city had been taken, he’d ordered a wide search, but it had quickly become apparent she’d stolen ships, not just for herself, but for the so-called barbarian king and a good handful of his men, too. Leaving Maloth - abandoning him! - was one thing, but to hurt him in this way, to stab him in the back was enough to make him insane.

From where he stood, palms braced against a windowsill in the highest of the fortress’s towers, all of the south end of the city was laid out before him, from the docks district due south to the mountains in the east, to the great shipyard beneath the western mountains. An entire district had been razed to the ground to create that shipyard, its residents - and many more - put to work on building the vessels that would take his legions across the sea.

“And why can she not be found?” Maloth asked again, not bothering to keep the gravel out of his tone.

“Because she does not choose to be,” Rava replied, as if it were of no consequence.

Maloth’s anger simmered, though he kept a tight rein on it. Who knew what a Titan might do if provoked? So far, she had been his ally, but how deep her loyalty lay remained in question. A being as old as she had their own agendas and motivations.

“Her home is the sea,” Rava said again. “And she can use all its vastness as she wishes.”

“You came to me,” Maloth sneered, spinning from the window. He and Rava were alone in the sparsely furnished room. Furniture was hard to come by in Amindaer, thanks to the previous occupants of the fortress. Anger flashed in him when he thought of the barbarians, but he kept it on a tight leash. “Why can she not?”

Rava stood nearby in the form of a beautiful woman, tall and slender and pale with flowing hair of pure white. Her eyes were white, too; deep voids without iris or pupil. When her mood darkened, they became cloudy and dark like the sky outside. Her beautiful form was cloaked in a gown of mist, sometimes opaque and sometimes not, depending on her state. Even through his dour mood, her otherwordly beauty was hard to ignore.

“Sadani was always difficult to predict,” Rava answered. Her shroud of mist thinned for a moment, giving Maloth an unobstructed view of her slender curves before it thickened again. “But she always favoured peace over war. Perhaps she hopes to remain neutral.”

“Can we draw her out?” he suggested, turning back to peer out the window. Even up here, his ears caught the clamour of tools and the shouting of shipwrights and labourers. Ten giant half-finished hulls were laid out in a row down there, each one - when complete - capable of carrying a thousand men or more. The shipwrights had scoffed at the idea at first, until Maloth started killing them one by one. Those who remained were suitably motivated. These mountains were rich in iron, useful for reinforcing ships of this scale.

“That may be unwise,” Rava cautioned. Maloth hated the way she failed to use honorifics when addressing him, but he tolerated it. When he was done, she would kneel to him like everyone else. “Unlike Vayani or Ranada, Sadani is powerful. Much more so.”

You will harness her power for your own, the voice whispered in his head. Patience.

“More powerful than you?” Maloth asked quietly. When she did not answer, he tensed, waiting for an outburst. When Rava was displeased, someone usually died. Sometimes many someones.

“Making such a comparison is foolish,” the beautiful Titan said contemptuously. “I did not think you a fool, Maloth.”

Clenching his jaw, Maloth stuffed down sudden rage. His crimson arms were corded from gripping the stone beneath his hands. He could remember a time when he was much slower to anger, and when he did, it was cold, distant. Now, he wanted to lash out, to hurt and harm and kill. If she was still here... No. He would not think of her. She was nothing to him, now.

Taking a deep breath, he made himself turn to face Rava again. “I am no fool,” he began coldly, “I only seek to understand. You came to me. How many others will?”

Instead of answering, Rava stared at him, her full lips slightly curved. “So strong,” she purred, coming forward and putting a hand on his bare chest. Her touch sent tingles dancing across his skin as if tiny bolts of lightning came from her fingers. “And so furious.” Was she making light of him? “Your rage is a tempest, a hurricane, Mor’ion. It is the nexus of your power.”

Yes, the voice agreed.

“Sadani may not see true magnificence when it stands before her,” Rava went on, “but I do.” Her hand trailed down his middle, sending pleasurable tingles all the way down until her fingers were poised just above his belt buckle. “Together we will conquer your foes and you will have your birthright.” Her voice was a sultry whisper now, her lips by his ear. “And my storms will cover the skies for all eternity.”

“And what of your kin?” Maloth asked.

“They will stand beside us, or we will destroy them.”

Maloth wondered if she was mad. Murdering Titans? Even if it were possible, surely the world would be wrought with catastrophe. He wanted something left to rule when this was all done. “We will do what we must,” he said levelly. Rava’s fingers were playing just below his navel. She often teased him with words or the odd touch, but never had she gone this far. He wondered what fucking her would be like. Was that what she wanted? Looking into her white, infinite eyes told him nothing. In a mortal, he could sense lust and draw it out of them, use it against them, but in Rava, he sensed nothing but a vague impression of incredible power.

Not for the first time, he considered binding her as ahk’sheth, but even though the idea of such power thrilled him, there was no guarantee it would work, and it might leave him dead. I will find a way, he thought as he let her toy with him. You will succumb to me, Titan or no.

“It has been long,” she drawled, still standing close, her fingers still playing on his skin. It was a pleasant feeling, one he was happy to allow for now. “Since I have permitted a man to touch me.” The mist cloaking her dissipated, revealing her body. Maloth’s eyes drank her in. She was as tall as he, and her long, slender limbs seemed to go on forever.

“When you succeed, when you own the world, I will give you that honour,” she finished in a smoky tone. Then she abruptly withdrew.

“I very much look forward to that,” Maloth replied, playing along with her games. He doubted she would ever follow through on that promise. He barely fluttered an eyelid as she suddenly launched herself through the window in a loud crack and burst of wind, the sudden change in the air momentarily pressing against his ears. He grimaced. She had not answered his question about Sadani. She was avoiding it, he was sure.

Go to her, the voice whispered. Sadani, Sadani, Sadani...

Nodding to himself, Maloth resolved to do just that, as soon as he had time. “Adelain!” he barked. He sensed her before she entered, making barely a sound as she flowed into the room. Over his shoulder, he cast a critical eye over the buxom Mor’elda, her obsidian skin contrasting sharply with hair as white as Rava’s. He kept her naked as he did the others - at least when in his presence - bar a black leather collar featuring his sigil, a symbol of his ownership. Adelain was his attendant today; he had taken to rotating them one at a time to give them room to perform other duties in and around the city.

“My Lord?” Adelain she said smoothly. She stood erect, hands behind her back and prodigious chest presented proudly.

“Fetch Kreya. I wish to speak with her.”

“At once,” she replied obediently before spinning on her heel and hurrying out. He had half a mind to stop her and fuck her within an inch of her life - Rava had set a fire in him - but he suppressed his urges for now. He went back to observing the shipyard from his vantage point while he waited, watching the men and Elves, Orcs and Giants working together, something probably not done for centuries. Black-cloaked Wardens threaded through the masses, directing their grey-skinned Risen on this task or that. Giants and the larger Orcs carried timber beams and sheets of iron no man could hope to haul unaided.

An hour later, Kreya arrived, still in her cloak, though the short, slim Warden quickly removed it in his presence, revealing her petite body, fair skin decorated in myriad magic runes typical of her people. “My Lord requires me?” she said quickly, breathing a little hard from hurrying here. Still, there was a shine in her pale blue eyes that showed excitement at what he might want from her.

“You helped me to make the Morgai,” he said, moving to her. Catching her fine chin between his thumb and forefinger, he lifted her face. She shuddered at the pleasure of his touch. “Now you will help me with something else.” Eyes that appeared larger for her smooth scalp widened as he explained what he wanted.

The fine, black-lacquered coach clattered over the cobbled streets of Cartuga’s Master’s District under a moonless night sky. A driver sat up front, occasionally clucking to the horse, but aside from him, Sara was alone. The cloaked man had vanished after winning the bid, leaving Lady Elhorn’s attendants to retrieve her and take her to this cart, where she’d promptly been bundled inside without so much as a farewell.

She almost wanted to laugh. At any time she could kick the door open and be gone, a shadow in the night, but the man in the cloak was the centre of why she was here, she was sure. Better to go willingly and be taken straight to him than to try and find him on her own. What she was to do when she arrived was still in question.

You thought this through really well, she told herself again. You might end up with your neck in a noose, yet. It was unlikely; if there was trouble, she would open her vala and deal with it. Shadows played through the coach’s windows as it passed beneath the tall iron lamps that lined the empty streets of the Master’s District. High stone walls flanked the street, looming in the night, barriers between the street and the opulent mansions of the masters. Everything looked expensive, here, from the well-manicured lawns dotted by elaborately-worked hedges shaped into fanciful animals or voluptuous women, to intricate stone or marble statues adorning a wall or flanking a wrought-iron gate. All the gates were closed except where a coach was entering or exiting, the occupants hidden from sight.

The feeling that she was doing something particularly stupid fluttered in her belly briefly until she crushed it. It was too late for doubts, now. She was too close. The coach turned off the street and made its way up a long, paved path wide enough for three more coaches abreast. The feeling in her belly grew stronger, this time harder to conquer. The creak of heavy metal announced a gate opening, and the coach stopped only momentarily before the driver clucked to the horse again.

Not for the first time tonight, she wished for something more substantial to wear than this flimsy red gown made for seduction, not for fighting or sneaking about.

Your best weapon is always your mind, Amina’s voice said in her head. And a suit of armour is not always the best protection. Your body, too, is a weapon all on its own, and when directed by a clear mind, is most effective.

The coach came to a stop, rocking slightly as the driver climbed down. The door was pulled open and a tall, cloaked man stood there, face hidden inside a deep cowl. At least she thought it was a man; the cloak was so thick it could have been anybody. As soon as her slippered foot touched the ground, the cloaked one turned without a word and continued up the path toward the biggest house she’d seen yet. Sara glanced at the driver, but he was already clambering back up to his seat, not exactly hurrying, but not wasting time either.

Wishing she had a cloak of her own - not for the cold, but for the sudden feeling of being exposed - she followed the figure up the path. Whether man or woman, they moved with a flowing grace that suggested a skill in dancing or fighting, or perhaps both. When she caught up, an attempt at starting a conversation proved futile; she may as well have been talking to a tree. Before reaching the massive brick and mortar house - which had to be at least four hundred paces across - the path split off in several different directions, winding away into the night like streams off a river. Despite the path being lined with iron lamp posts, not a single one was lit. In fact, there was no light coming from anywhere inside the grounds. It made her want to shiver.

Peering around and wishing she could use her vala, she followed her guide silently through dark courtyards and shadowy gardens until they came to a door in the rear of the grounds. A heavy key was produced from beneath the cloak and pale fingers fitted it to the lock. She almost breathed a sigh of relief when light spilt from the doorway. The pull inside her gut tried to yank her inside almost bodily. Instead of going in first, the figure stood aside and gestured to the doorway with a pale hand. She hesitated only a moment before entering. The door closed behind her, key scraping in the lock until it turned with a sharp click.

The interior of the house was no less magnificent than the outside. She was in a wide corridor lined with gilded, mirrored stand lamps, illuminating the fine tapestries and artworks hanging from the walls. Contrary to outside, every lamp was lit in here.

A nearby door opened, drawing her attention. A stunning woman emerged, head-and-shoulders taller than Sara and heavily rounded in the hips and bosom. Golden hair fell in silken waves around her shoulders. Pointed ears and sparkling blue eyes marked her as an Elf. A very old Elf, judging by her size. The beautiful creature smiled as she came forward, her body shifting beneath a shimmering pale gown that hid nothing of the voluptuous form beneath. Sara’s breath caught when she noticed dark veins on the skin around the woman’s eyes, inch-long tendrils that faded away into the creamy skin of her smooth cheeks and forehead.

“I am Gaivanya,” she said when she reached Sara, her smile wide and warm except for her eyes. There was something in that brilliant blue gaze that didn’t belong with that smile. It made Sara’s skin prickle. “Please, come with me, child.” Without waiting for a response, Gaivanya turned smoothly and flowed up the corridor, leaving Sara to follow. Normally, she would have taken a moment to admire the plump, wide bottom bouncing along in front of her, but those eyes kept flashing into her mind. There had been something ... wrong ... in that gaze.

Sara walked along behind the Elf silently, slippered feet whispering on the lavish red-and-gold carpets. Every now and then she caught a noise from behind a door, a muffled voice or a distant door opening or closing, indicating there were people here. Gaivanya led her up and down hallways and flights of stairs until Sara doubted she could find her way back to where she came in, and never once did she see another soul until she passed an archway that opened into a big room with wide armchairs and a long fireplace against the opposite wall. Two men sat facing the hearth, their backs to her as they chatted quietly. In front of them, two nude women danced slowly, rotating and undulating in the firelight. One was slender and petite with milky skin and dark hair, the other more buxom and brown. Something about the second woman’s face tickled Sara’s memory, but the inkling was shoved aside when the pulling in her gut became an almighty yank that had her two steps into the room before she could stop herself.

Eyes wide, she halted, breath caught in her throat. Gaivanya was suddenly pulling at her arm, dragging her away. One of the men turned his head. Piercing blue eyes in a handsome face snatched at her, holding her gaze like a snake might hold a mouse that’s just stumbled into it’s nest. A thick, golden moustache curled along his upper lip, the same shade as the hair that hung to his shoulders. Time stopped.

The other man began to turn to see what had drawn the other, but Gaivanya hustled her back out into the corridor before she could see his face. “You must follow. Only follow,” the taller woman urged, grasping Sara’s shoulders hard enough to hurt.

“That man,” Sara said absently, blinking as she tried to banish those eyes from her mind. “Who was he?”

“That is not your concern,” the Elf said as she seized Sara’s hand and began to pull her along. “The Masters have their own business, which is none of ours.”

Sara’s mind raced. Her vala had certainly indicated that the man in there was of great importance, but she would bet her life on the fact he was not the same man that had bought her at the auction. “Where are you taking me?” she demanded, suddenly tired of being dragged about. She tried pulling away, but the Elf was strong.

“To see you are settled in,” Gaivanya answered, though she offered no further explanation. Soon, however, she opened a door and took Sara into a large room decorated with comfortable-looking furniture, the big bed, chairs and lounges all covered in silks in reds and purples. It was the sort of place where a Lady might lie around while her attendants ... attended her. “These are your chambers. This is where you will spend your time when you are not tasked with other things.”

“Could be worse, I suppose,” Sara murmured grudgingly as she walked further into the room. The walls were adorned with various erotic artworks.

“There is a bathing chamber in the adjoining room,” Gaivanya continued, waving a slim hand toward an archway at the rear, “and everything else you require for sanitation. You are to wait here until you are called upon.”

“Called upon for what?” Sara asked quickly, not liking the sound of that.

“That will be made clear in time, child.” The Elf smiled again, and Sara looked away. There was something bloody unsettling about this woman. Maybe she was crazy. “Meals will be delivered three times daily, unless you are being punished through deprivation.”

“Wait, what? What does that mean?” But Gaivanya ignored her and went on.

“When you have proved you are trustworthy, you will be allowed to socialise with the others, but until then you will remain alone. Goodbye for now, child.” At that, she left, closing the door behind her. When Sara tried the handle, it was locked.

“Perfect,” she muttered, leaning back against the door, eyes roaming the garish room. She wanted to kick the door down and go back to that man, to find out who he was, but she discarded the idea. If she was in the belly of the beast, best to take the soft approach, for now. Besides, who knew how many women these ‘Masters’ had captured, and what might become of them if Sara kicked the hornet’s nest.

“Lennise!” she said aloud, clicking her fingers. The dark woman dancing. Her face had been too similar to be anyone else, similar to a man’s she’d met recently in Cartuga, a kind man who had asked for her help. “I’ll bring her back, Barnett,” she vowed softly as she began to circle the room, looking for anything of interest. “I promise.” Apart from the interesting artwork depicting men and women engaged in various acts of sex, the room was the same as any other, if on the luxurious side. There was a broad, arched window against one wall, sealed shut somehow, and a small fireplace, too, the hearth presently bare. Next to the fireplace was an opening to the bath chamber, where a round, deep copper tub sat on the stone floor. All in all it felt very ... hedonistic. Sara would rather like to live in a place like this one day, exploring her every desire with whomever she wished. An ache started in her belly, but she managed it with a quick breathing exercise; no point getting aroused now.

“Well, at least I’ll be comfortable,” she muttered as she sat on the bed and puffed her cheeks out. A brass doorknob caught her eye, glinting at her from behind a standing mirror that had blocked her view of it before. Her eyes widened when she pulled it open. It was a wardrobe, deep enough to walk inside and lined with dozens of gowns and dresses and things she did not recognise, many of them scandalous. She grinned as she fingered some of the items on display, imagining what Erik or Aran would say if they saw her wearing something like this.

A sudden knock at the main door startled her. Hurrying from the wardrobe, she pushed it shut as she heard the door open. When she rounded the mirror, there was a man standing in the room. Slender, dark and fit, he was bald and bare to the waist. Below, he wore tight breeches that showed off his legs nicely and soft boots with turned down tops at the ankle. He looked her over briefly, taking in her gown. “That will not do,” he said flatly, gesturing to the fine red silk hugging her body. “Remove it.” Even on his dark skin, she could see the same veins around his eyes that she’d seen on Gaivanya.

Sara gaped, momentarily forgetting her purpose here. “Excuse me?”

The man met her stare evenly. “Did you mishear? I said remove it.” There was no emotion in his tone, no curving of lips or glint in his eye that suggested some lecherous intent. She almost would have preferred that over the direct, flat stare.

“Why?” she demanded. It was one thing to come here willingly, quite another to just strip down for any old stranger who ordered it.

“Because it is required.”

She opened her mouth to offer retort, but she closed it again. If I do what he says, he might take me where I need to go. I can be obedient, for now. Slowly, she slipped the shoulder straps off the dress and pushed it down, trying to ignore dark eyes that watched her every move. She hadn’t felt like this since her days in Maralon, doing what was necessary to secure food and shelter. In truth, this was not as bad; she had her vala if she needed it. There was nothing this man could do to her that she could not handle. Kneeling over the red silk now pooled on the carpet, she untied her slippers and pulled them off.

“Very good,” he said once she was standing again. He started forward and she prepared to defend herself, but he merely rounded her and went for the wardrobe, disappearing inside for a few moments and returning with a short, diaphanous robe not unlike a vaima. “Don this. It is suitable for your first viewing.”

“What does that mean?” she enquired, taking the robe. “Who will be viewing me?”

“That will be revealed in time,” he said smoothly, standing in front of her with arms behind his back. He intended to watch again, she realised. “You have no reason to be concerned,” he added. “I have no interest in you, nor would I touch you if I did.”

Saying nothing, Sara threw the robe on and tied the sash, feeling hardly less naked now than before. She wondered what he meant by all that, but decided to keep her silence for now. Once she was done, he eyed her up and down and nodded, then made for the door. “Follow.”

Follow, stay here, take off your dress, put this on, follow again, she chanted acidly in her head. This place had been nothing but a series of orders thus far. That, and a collection of strange and unsettling people. The dark man led her further into the huge house, and while she caught glimpses of people - some in dark cloaks, some dressed similar to herself, others in more normal attire - she did not see Lennise or the man that had pulled at her so. There was a strange feeling in the air, a heaviness, and the smallest sounds were too loud.

“Aren’t you at least going to tell me your name?” She asked the man at one point, but he offered no response. Fine, be that way, she thought bitterly. I’ll just be a good little slave and follow you silently and do whatever you say. After a minute or two they started down a wide, stone staircase, the air growing noticeably cooler the further they went. Down and down, until Sara thought they must be at least a hundred feet underground. Lamps hung from the walls every dozen steps, casting shadows that shifted with their passing. When they finally reached the bottom, a corridor led away from the stairs a short distance to heavy-looking doors, thick timber strapped with iron.

Sara waited while her silent guide moved to push the doors open. Without her vala to warm her, she wanted to tuck her hands beneath her arms, but she made herself still. How was it suddenly so cold down here? She was surprised she couldn’t see her own breath. The pulling in her belly grew stronger as light and noise flooded from the opening doors, and as the crack widened, so did her eyes.

The chamber was large and open, fifty paces on a side and lit by hundreds of candles on stands or hanging from the high ceiling. Dozens of people moved between huge square beds and lounging chairs, many of them occupied by bodies, some resting, some writhing languidly, others moving more vigorously. Alongside the visual onslaught was a din of noise, moans of pleasure, the slapping of flesh, screams that could have been pain or ecstasy, Sara wasn’t entirely sure. She had thought her room was hedonistic, but she had been wrong. This was true hedonism. The sexual energy in the air washed over her like a tidal wave, and had she had one scrap less training she would have torn her robe off and rushed in to join the fray. Even so, her eyes drank in the scene with a sense of both hesitation and excitement. Amina had had her abstaining from all pleasure during her training, a commitment she had not broken since leaving the Temple, but her desires were straining to be freed.

Regulating her breathing, she schooled herself to serenity. Looking past the cavorting feast of nudity, she saw a dais at the rear of the chamber upon which a man sat, tall and proud and garbed in a shimmering black robe. Even at fifty paces, she could feel his eyes, pinning her where she stood. The aura coming off him was the same she’d felt back at Lady Elhorn’s estate, though much more powerful now. Her vala flickered, wriggling like an eel, and for a moment she thought she might lose control of it. It was like it didn’t know whether it wanted to burst forth or retreat, perhaps both at once. Whatever the cause, it had never happened before.

Before she knew it, her feet were moving and the doors were closed behind her. One by one, those in the room ceased their activities and regarded her. Hisses and murmurs rose, whispers. Everywhere she looked, she saw the same veiny tendrils around eyes, whether on Orc or Elf or Human or Dwarf, and there were several of each present. Not everyone had the veins on just the eyes, she realised after a moment. Some had them all over, as if their blood were inky black. From those, she sensed ... wrongness, like the man on the dais.

She was quickly surrounded, bodies pressing in close but not quite touching her. Hands reached out tentatively, but always stopped just short of her skin, often accompanied by a groan of frustration or a vexed hiss. “So close!” one woman - a strikingly beautiful Human despite the dark tendrils snaking beneath her pale skin - cried. She was naked but for a collection of necklaces and bracelets that jingled when she moved.

“Is she the one?” another said, this one a man as handsome as the first woman was beautiful, tall and broad-shouldered. He was naked, too, and no less stricken by those strange veins.

“Is it finally over?” said a dark woman, almost as voluptuous as Elaina, her eyes wide with what Sara thought was both hope and fear. She spun this way and that, trying not to shy away from reaching hands, though they never actually touched her. All the while, her vala threatened to explode wildly. She held on for dear life, not knowing what would happen if she lost control of it.

What under the Gods have I gotten myself into? She thought frantically. Breathe Sara. Just breathe. The tugging in her belly was dragging her to the dais, step by step.

“Enough.” A man’s voice cut in from somewhere nearby. The crowd around her parted immediately to reveal the black-robed man from the dais, now standing no more than ten feet away. The deepest silence she’d ever heard settled over the room, and all eyes were on her. He came closer, and with each step, her vala convulsed. She lost the last fingernail of control and for the first time in many days, it erupted at full strength. Heat and light flooded her body, strength and love and the true sense of wholeness that came with it. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to shout to the heavens in exultation.