by Jake Stone
“Just give me a second.”
“Ain’t no seconds to give. Skarteck says we gotta move these bitches. Says they’re Purifiers.”
“Purifiers?” Wart-face is in shock. “How does he know that?”
The other guy shrugs. “How does he know anything? He has his ways.”
Wart-face turns to Zorel, whose wrists are bound to the wall, leaving her body to curl seductively in the moonlight. His tongue runs lustfully across his lower lip as he examines her barely covered crotch. “Never fucked a Purifier before. Bet it’s better than fucking a regular bitch.”
“Why don’t you come and see for yourself?” Zorel says, inviting him with parted legs.
For a moment, he considers the invitation. But then, smartly so, realizes that it’s more of a dare. “Fuck you, slut,” he says with a sneer, angered only more when she starts to laugh at him. “So, what do we do then?” Wart-face asks the other guard.
“Leave them,” he says. “The boss is preparing them as a present.”
“A present?”
“Yeah, along with this stuff he’s returning.” He says, opening up the chest to reveal a sea of jewels that glimmer in the soft light of the tent. I see stones of immaculate colors, gold chains with pearls, a silver crown with forged antlers that meet at a single point. They’re beautiful.
But it isn’t until I see a gold necklace with a fiery ruby at its center, that I begin to feel nervous. My hands tremble at the image of it and my sight clouds. It’s happening again.
“What’s with him?” Wart-face asks. “He looks all…fucked up.”
“Not surprised,” the other guard replies. “With how badly Skarteck kicked his ass. And I’m sure you played with him a little too.”
“Eh,” Wart-face says with a shrug. “I am who I am.”
I feel a sense of relief when the guard closes the chest again.
“Anyway,” Wart-face says. “Back to all this stuff. Who’s it for?”
“Someone big.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know,” the guard replies, annoyed. “To tell the truth, don’t think the boss knows either.”
Wart-face grunts. “That’s the problem with this business. There’s no honesty anymore, no trust.”
“Shut the fuck up, and let’s go. We’ve got work to do.”
I wait for the men to leave before I speak to the girls. “Are you guys okay?”
“We’re good,” Petronelous answers. “How are you?”
“Yeah, sexy,” Zorel adds. “You look like you were having another one of those spells. Are you okay?”
“It was the necklace,” I say.
“It must be from the Dark Horizon,” Atia says.
“Are you going to be alright?” Petronelous asks.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” I’m still dizzy from the punches and kicks to the head, but I’ll be good enough to run if given the chance. I don’t doubt that I have a concussion, though. But my adrenaline is pumping. And at least I can’t feel the pain in my gut.
“Stop worrying about him, and focus on the mission,” Atia commands. She’s standing a yard away from me, chained to the opposite wall, where her body is on full display. Wearing only a black thong, with high black boots and a black bra, her pale skins glows under the light of the moon breaking through one of the window flaps. “This mission has already gone to hell.”
“The captain’s right,” Petronelous agrees. “We must take the first opportunity to free ourselves.”
“Sorry, guys,” I say. “I fucked up.”
“Don’t feel bad, sexy,” Zorel says. “At least you didn’t sell us.”
“Yes,” Petronelous agrees. “That was very honorable of you.”
“Are you serious?” Atia says. “Look, when you’re done thanking him for not selling you into slavery, I’d appreciate some suggestions.” Atia yanks on her chains, frowning as they give no pull.
“I could catch one with my legs and break his neck,” Petronelous offers.
“Then what?” I ask. “We’ll still be chained by our wrists.”
Atia looks to Zorel. “Can you fry the chains off?”
“Not without searing my hands off,” she answers.
Atia makes a tsk sound.
“How long before the other Purifiers send out a search party?” I ask.
“They won’t,” Atia says flatly.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“This mission is unsanctioned.”
“Unsanctioned?”
Atia rolls her eyes. “Do you really think the gaideck would’ve commissioned three transports and twenty soldiers just so you could save your girlfriend? The beshai arranged it. If we don’t come back, we’ll be considered dead from duty.”
My head falls back as I shut my eyes, suddenly feeling worse than before. We’re all alone out here, and this is all my doing.
It’s then that the curtain door pulls back and I see a young woman scurrying in. It’s one of the slave girls from inside, the one with curly dark hair who was laughing when I first entered the tent. Appearing sober, she comes straight toward me.
“Is it true that you’re a Purifier?”
I look between Atia, Zorel, and Petronelous, finding a look of anxiousness on their faces. “Yes,” I say.
“If I free you, can you take me back to the capital?”
“Uh…yeah, sure,” I say.
“Do you swear it?”
I look at Atia. She gives a reluctant nod. “I do.”
The woman takes a deep breath, like a person about to jump off of a high ledge. “Very well, then. A guard is going to return in a few minutes to take you.”
“Wart-face?” I ask.
She looks at me, perplexed.
“I mean, the guy with the warts?”
She nods. “He’s too big for me. But if one of you could kill him, perhaps I could take the key from his belt and free you with it.”
“Zorel,” Atia says. “You’re up.”
“With pleasure,” Zorel says with a grin.
“Good,” the slave girl says. “In the meantime, I’ll hide outside. We’ll only have a couple of seconds, so make it quick.”
I watch as she scurries through the exit and back into the adjoining section of the tent. I want to ask her about Rachel, if she could help free her as well. But there’s no time. I’ll have to wait until we’re free.
The slave girl’s no liar. Almost immediately, Wart-face returns, only this time he’s wielding a whip.
“The boss says we’re in a hurry,” he says, turning a stare at Zorel, his hand tightening around his cock which is already so hard that it’s poking out of his pants. “So, I’m gonna have to make this quick.”
“My loss,” Zorel says.
He stalks toward her, his eyes ravenous as he takes in her slim waist, big tits and curvy hips. Reaching for her panties, he yanks the front of them to the side, and I see a glimpse of her shaved pussy for only a second before her legs close in around him.
They tighten around him like the tentacles of an octopus, locking him in place. The force of it cracks his back, and he lets out an unexpected yelp. But that’s not the worst of it.
“Here ya go, lover,” says with a smile.
I watch, horrified, as a shock of blue lightning sizzles off her legs, burning him in place. Spasming, smoke lifts off his arms, legs and chest. His eyes roll back in his head, and he topples to the ground, steam lifting off his dead body.
Holy shit!
My gaze lifts to Zorel’s glorious pussy, which is still on full display, and she shoots me a wink.
“Hurry!” the slave girls says as she rushes back in. She digs through the guard’s pants and pulls out a set of keys. Starting with Zorel, she begins to unlock our cuffs one-by-one, freeing us from our captors.
I sigh in relief as I feel the cold hard metal release from my wrists. But my brain is still shaken from the hits to the head, so it takes me a while to get situated.
“What’s
the safest way out of here?” Atia asks the slave girl.
“There’s too many in the front. Our best chance is to duck under the walls and join the crowd. From there, we must make our way toward the exit.”
“Where the mutant guards are?” I ask. “They'll recognize us the second they see us.”
“Is there any other way out of here?” Petronelous asks the girl.
“No,” she says.
“There it is, then,” Atia says. “To the exit.”
“What if the guards come after us?” the slave girl asks.
“They’ll meet our sniper if they do. Now come on, let’s go.”
“Wait,” I say. “What about Rachel?”
“There’s no time for that now,” Atia says. “We have to go.”
“No,” I say. “Not without Rachel.”
“Who’s Rachel?” the slave girl asks.
“My friend,” I say. “The brunette with blue eyes.”
“One of the six?”
“Yes.”
Her face grows dark. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but the buyer has already come for her.”
“She’s gone?” I ask.
“I’m sorry.”
“To where?” I ask, gripping her by the shoulders. “Where have they taken her?” I turn as Atia pulls my arms away. “We have to go—now!”
Behind me, I hear the rattle of armor and guns as men and mutants are approaching. She’s right. There’s no time. We have to go, or we won’t survive.
“Fine,” I say. “Let’s go.”
We duck under the velvet wall of the tent, only to find ourselves in the thick of the auction. Drunk slavers and mutants stumble out of our path as we push forward, cursing our impetuousness under their stinking breath.
All around me gorgeous naked women—blonds, brunettes, redheads—stand atop platforms at their masters' sides, their faces downcast as horny men call out their bids.
I steel a glance at the crowd and spot a couple of old men dressed in red robes. This is the cloth of the clergy, the uniform meant to represent mercy and truth. The holy men stand silent under the concealment of their hoods as their much younger assistants add their voices to the shouts of the bidders. There are others as well; well-dressed gentlemen with security guards, men who remind me of the government officials and businessmen I first saw when I’d arrived at the palace weeks ago.
“Bastards,” I say.
“No,” Petronelous whispers in shock, stumbling to a halt. “This can’t be possible.”
Even Zorel looks awestruck, her constant amusement withering to heartbreak. “No…”
Only Atia is unaffected. “Let’s go!” she yells, pulling the women by their arms and leading them forward.
When we make it to the exit, we find the guards who’d turned us in distracted by a group of slave girls. Drinking their cranish, they watch as the girls dance before them.
We lower our heads as we walk past them, trying not to draw their attention. But we only get a couple of feet before we’re noticed.
“Oy, there they go!”
“They saw us!” Atia yells. “Run!”
We hurry into the night, racing over the dunes of the desert as the guards set off to chase us. Atia is the fastest, followed by Petronelous and Zorel. I wrap an arm around the slave girl and hurry. I’m nearly lifting her off the ground as we race back to the transport. But then we hear the sound of engines, and I see a fleet of hovercycles racing toward us.
“We’re almost there!” Atia yells.
But the cycles are already on us. They speed through the night like a pack of wolves, surrounding us on all sides. We’re trapped.
I look over my left shoulder at the mercenary closing in, a long-haired asshole with a ring through his nose. He reaches for the slave girl at my side, taunting her as he does so. “Come back here, lovely!”
Without a weapon, I can only use my arms. I swing a hand at him, batting him away. But he quickly moves in again. He’s already gripping the slave girl by the arm, pulling her away from me, when, from out of nowhere, I hear the sound of a single gunshot.
The mercenary’s head jerks back as his brains are exploded out the back of his skull, and his bike meanders to the side, wandering off over one of the low hills.
The firing continues. Chun Hei’s marksmanship is something to behold. The mercenaries die horrible deaths as she rains her punishment upon them. Brains burst out of heads. Hearts explode out of backs. One of the mercenary’s neck snaps to the side, as his spinal column is pierced with a well-placed bolt.
Soon, the mercenaries realize that they’re outgunned. They come to complete stops, curving out on their cycles, then picking up speed again, as they race back to the auction. I slow down as I hear the roaring of their engines begin to die over the low hills.
“Thank you,” the slave girl says. “You really are a Purifier.”
“Uh, yeah, sure.”
“Let’s go!” Atia orders. “Before they come back with reinforcements.”
Chun Hei meets us when we reach the transport, her sniper rifle firmly in hand as she scouts the Frontier behind us. When she’s sure no one has followed us, she turns to face Atia, who quickly signs her new orders.
“I’m driving,” Atia announces. “Zorel, upfront with me. The rest, get in the back.”
The ride through the desert is long. We rock against the walls of the transport like sailors on a rough sea, too exhausted to even speak.
After a while, I look over at the slave girl to find her shivering. The image of it breaks my heart, and I stretch an arm around her shoulders to comfort her. She coils into my embrace, her eyes shutting as she experiences her first moment of freedom in who knows how long. I keep her there, her liberation the only little bit of solace I have in these empty moments.
I had her, I think to myself. Goddamnit, I had her! And I lost her again.
The transport buckles as Atia leads us over a patch of sunken ground. And I find Chun Hei staring at me from across the cabin. The glow of purple eyes watches me through the dark. But there’s no menace to them anymore, no distrust. Instead, there’s only a softness to her stare, a look of shared pity for the girl in my arms.
I force a smile as I stare at the girl, wishing that I could be holding Rachel as well.
Chapter Twenty
“I had her,” I mutter pitifully as I plop into one of the seats in the beshai’s chamber. Zorel tries to hand me a glass of cranish, but I wave it away, too distraught to even drink.
The image of Rachel hanging by her wrists keeps flashing in my mind. I force my eyes open, wanting to avoid any more of it. But it keeps coming back and back, reminding me of my failure.
“You did what you could.”
I feel Petronelous’s hand on my shoulder, the strength of her beauty like the image of an angel staring down at me. And as thankful as I am for her, I’m so fucked up that I can’t even squeeze her hand in thanks.
“Enough with this sentimentality,” Atia says. “There are more pressing issues at hand.”
“But Captain—” Petronelous says.
“No,” I say, rising from my seat. “She’s right. There are more pressing issues at hand. Like exposing your filthy superiors for the sick fucks they are.”
“How dare you?” Atia says.
“No,” I say. “You need to realize that the people you serve are no less sick and twisted than the monsters who rule the Frontier. Look around you. The people don’t even have food or water to eat. Women have to whore themselves to make money. Your only chance at anything is to serve the Republic by becoming a soldier for the church or being a pimp or a whore. It’s madness.”
“It is madness,” Tulgas agrees as he lumbers through a side door into the room.
The sight of him snaps the girls to attention, and they quickly bow their heads in respect.
“Please,” he says, urging them to forgo the formality. “You’ve had a long day. The last thing you need to worry about is bowing to a
n old man.”
“We’ve found it,” Atia says.
“What?” Tulgas asks.
Atia holds out her palm to him, and inside, I see the gold necklace with the fiery ruby, the exact one that was inside the chest.
I wince as I begin to tremble. “You took it?”
“Of course, I did,” Atia replies. “It was the proof we were waiting for.”
“What proof?” I ask. “What are you talking about?”
I watch as Atia hands the necklace to the beshai, his very fingers curling back in fear. But then, as if remembering that he’s a man of the church, he snatches it from her hands and raises it up to the light. “The necklace of Laurel Fireborn,” he whispers.
“Taken by the darkness itself,” Atia adds.
The necklace sparkles against the tiny fires burning in metal bowls around us. It’s an immaculate piece of work, easily one of the prettiest pieces of jewelry I’ve ever seen.
Laurel Fireborn. According to Zorel, she was the greatest queen of Dardekum.
“What’s it doing here?” I ask.
“When the Dark Horizon appeared, and the demons spilled forth, it was she who added Dardekum to the ranks of the Republic,” Atia explains. “She knew we needed help, and that alone, we would perish as a people. It was she who lead our forces against Zendal and his armies. But sadly, she was struck down at the Great Mouth, the beginning of the passageway between our worlds, but not before wounding Zendal himself. Her body was lost to us, including her sword, crown and—”
“Necklace,” I say, watching as the beshai hands it back to her.
“Yes,” she says.
“But why’s it so important?” I ask. “Zorel and I saw a Solarum piece just the other day. That was once in the Dark Horizon as well. What makes this piece any different?”
“Because it was a demon who took it,” Atia explains. “Just before her captains could reach the queen, her body was stolen by the demon, dragged into the accursed abyss, where her soul still remains.”
“You see, Xander,” Atia continues, “this was not some piece of art sent back to us by a rogue scientist. This is a trophy from hell, one that would only be brought back by a high-ranking demon.”
