by L A Warren
"You want me to say I was sick, but I wasn't."
The High Tender snorted in disbelief. "You had to have felt something—"
Gregor interjected. "Lying does not please me, opés."
Anger flared. White hot. Why demand answers to such an irrelevant question? They'd killed billions. People she liked, people she loved. They'd destroyed her world. And that name, opés, grated on her nerves.
"You bastard, I don't care if I please you or not, and my name is Elise, not opés."
The High Tender paused from his construction to rise with deliberate slowness. The braklav twirled around in a slow arc before he snapped it into his palm.
The resounding thud set her body quivering.
He shrugged. "I never give out warnings. That is lesson number two. Sire, excuse me."
Gregor pushed back his chair, scraping the wooden feet across the tiled floor. His brows pulled together.
The High Tender moved into the space vacated by the Emperor. He placed his hand on her forehead and pressed her head back against the chair.
"Tender Training is difficult to watch, Sire. You may leave if you wish."
Gregor gritted his teeth. "I know about Tender Training, I won't leave."
"You cannot protect her from the choices she makes."
"She doesn't understand that yet." Gregor ground the muscles of his jaw, while Elise looked on in horror. "By the gods, be gentle with her." He shook his head.
"That is not how it's done."
Adrenaline surged through her body, racing around her veins, seeking an outlet that wasn't to be found. It left her a quivering mess as she locked her eyes with the High Tender's cold brown ones. Her hand flew up to grip his forearm, to push him away, but he was too strong. He didn't budge.
Gregor looked on, his face a mask of concern. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, but he stepped to the side and made room for the High Tender.
High Tender Marcus touched the silver rod to her ear. Pain coursed down her neck and through her body. He dragged the silver rod down the side of her throat lighting a trail of agony in its wake.
Her determination not to cry out lasted a heartbeat.
With a twist of the rod, the pain intensified with an explosion of sensation. Screams erupted from her throat as he traced the outline of her body from fingertip to fingertip and toe to toe. He brought the thing up her left side and back down the right.
The mantra, "High Tender Marcus, my lord, please stop," spilled from her lips and fell on dispassionate ears. Hot liquid scalded her skin. Thousands of nettles flailed against her flesh and tiny knives flayed her skin. Her voice grew hoarse with her screams.
Pain beyond comprehension flooded her body, ripping at her soul. Her vision dimmed, then went dark. Desperately, she clung to consciousness unwilling to lose control in front of them, although her body went slack.
They spoke over her and she strained to hear them.
"High Tender," Gregor said, "that is enough."
"That is for me to decide."
"I dislike seeing her treated this way. She knows nothing of our ways, or what is expected of her. She doesn't know obedience is her only path."
"You know the risks. If we fail, I must destroy her. Neither of us wants that, not with what we face. I understand the difficulties in watching Tender Training, it's why we sequester them, but it's the only way. She's learning a valuable lesson right now. Trust the Tender Conclave to train these Earth WOR as we've trained all WOR. I know the proper path."
"I know, High Tender. It’s just—"
"She awakens. Go to her and let me finish."
A residue of pain vibrated within her body with the fluttering of her lids. Cautiously, she opened them, only to see the High Tender standing before her with a calculating expression and that silver rod dangling from his wrist.
"Good, you're back," he said with dispassion.
She took inventory of her body, her skin, seeing no signs of the torture he'd inflicted.
"Now," the High Tender said, "you will always address Emperor Gregor Ulysses vlor'Malita by his given name. You will never use profanities against him again, or I will spend an hour with the braklav teaching you respect."
An hour? He'd touched her for mere seconds and she'd come undone.
The braklav dangled from his wrist. "Now apologize." The glower in his eyes left no doubt in her mind she would do as he commanded.
As he knelt to complete the fifth tube assembly, Gregor brought his chair back into position and sat with his knees brushing hers.
Her body responded to his touch, but she expected the surge of arousal, and tamped in down. She managed some control over the unnatural sensual response to this man. Maybe this was her first victory. She latched onto that. She needed something positive.
Gregor's expression told her he expected that apology, but there was also something else there as well. Concern. For her?
That metal rod had messed with her head, and her body shook from the after-effects.
"Forgive me, Gregor."
"Of course, you're forgiven." He shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. "The braklav stings, opés. You must learn to obey our rules. It's the only way to avoid its touch. I dislike having it used against you, but until you adjust to your new life, it is a necessity. What you need to understand is you are ultimately the one in control. Submit and all will be well."
Maybe killing billions went hand in hand with the torture of a defenseless woman? Submit? Like hell she'd submit to these men. She'd fight with every breath. She bit back a sob crawling out of her throat. Better to save her energy until she could find something to use it against.
"Back to what I was asking—before you called me a bastard—you're certain? This is important."
He was still stuck on the sniffles and sneezes? Incredibly persistent, she had to give him that.
"I wasn't sick. Why is that so important?" Her mind struggled to make sense of her predicament.
"Interesting." He didn't answer her question. "Lord vlor'Vardhal, do you think this will affect the testing?"
"The severity of the symptoms is telling, but not always predictive." The High Tender pressed the second disc to the end of the five rods. With a snap, the clear tubes slipped into the recesses of the second disc. Now he had a structure of two discs connected by five rods filled with black marbles. The thing glowed. He grunted his approval and stood.
Gregor took the device from the High Tender and cradled it in his lap. "What about the detector? It, too, had difficulty picking up her readings and locating her. Almost as if it were being blocked?"
The High Tender pulled a small pen-like device out of an inner coat pocket. "Time to find out."
"Whoa, wait," she said, terrified. "What are you doing?" Trying to jerk away while strapped to a chair was difficult, but she tried. Her heart went into overdrive.
Gregor stilled the High Tender's hand. His voice softened, trying to soothe her. "He's going to draw your blood. Be still, opés."
The High Tender grabbed her arm and pulled it straight. He felt for a pulse in her wrist and pressed the pen to the spot.
The jab of a needle pierced her skin. She flinched at the sting. Compared to the braklav, it was nothing, but the tension in her body was wound so tight a fly landing would have her jumping.
The device turned red as it took a sample of her blood. The High Tender pulled out a second device and repeated the process on her other wrist.
"Hold out your hands," Gregor instructed. He gripped the Tenderstat holding the center five tubes. "Put your hands out straight, palms facing each other, fingers spread."
"Is this going to hurt?" Her hands shook. She looked to the High Tender, but he jerked his chin toward the device and clutched the braklav in his palm.
She did as instructed, more afraid of angering the High Tender than Gregor.
"I promise, on my word as a lord, this won't hurt you." Gregor placed the device between her palms. "Now, see these grooves on the
edge?"
Panic filled her with fear, but she would do this. She had to. It was either put her hands where Gregor said or deal with the High Tender and that damn silver braklav thing. Blood roared past her ears, making Gregor's voice sound very far away. Her body reacted on autopilot.
"Place your fingers in the grooves."
Her fingers trembled. She shook her head.
"No. I can't."
Gregor paused. His voice repeated the command, gently but firmly. There was no room to refuse. "Elise, you need to put your fingers in the grooves."
Out of the corner of her eye, a silver rod flashed. "What does it do?" She didn't move her hands.
"Please, listen to me, I don't wish to see you punished again. Put your fingers in the grooves." As he spoke, the metal rod touched her shoulder.
Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes. "Gregor, I'm so scared…"
The enormity of her situation weighed her down with hopelessness. Alone. There was no one who would come to her rescue. No family. No police. No military to save the day. These men had her at their mercy. She couldn't run and she couldn't even fight back. No way was she going to comply with their every request, but here she was, doing just that. Her entire body shook.
"Easy, opés." He reached out and stroked the back of her hand. "Unlike the braklav, this will not hurt. I've given you my word as a lord. It means on my life I will not break it. I promise, but I cannot help you in this. You must put your hands there yourself."
She blinked, not willing to trust him, but having no other choice. She bit her lower lip and did as commanded. The grooves were spaced a little wider than her fingers, and the material was warm to the touch. It didn’t hurt.
"What does it do?"
Gregor pressed a switch and a thin bar trapped her fingers inside the grooves. "It's a simple test of your potential."
The High Tender leaned over and filled a small reservoir in the base of each rod with several drops of her blood. He nodded to Gregor.
The Emperor flicked a different switch.
The edges of the discs shimmered.
It kind of tickled. She glanced up, only to see Gregor's dark brows drawing together in consternation.
He tapped a finger to his upper lip. "Hm, not what I was expecting." He leaned forward and examined the tubes. "Even in one who is not WOR there is a glow."
The two men exchanged worried glances. What did that mean? Not what he expected? After everything, she was a dud? Wouldn't that be funny?
"Not possible," the High Tender said. "She survived the Activator, so she should light up at least the first bar." There was a strange emphasis placed on the word activator.
"I have an idea," Gregor said. "She claims not to have been sick. Is it possible her sample is flooding the registers? Let's try diluting it."
He pressed the first switch, and released her fingers from their prison. Gregor beckoned the High Tender over to the door. They spoke in low tones and it was obvious from the way the High Tender shook his head that he disagreed. Gregor glanced over and pointed her direction.
Fascinated, she watched their exchange. Which one was in charge? When the High Tender's shoulders hunched, she knew Gregor had made his point.
He wiped the blood well clean with a cloth from the High Tender's kit, then sat in front of her and lifted the device. He arched a brow. With a jerk of his chin toward her hands, he directed her to put them back in the device. His meaning was clear, and she complied.
He flicked the switch once again imprisoning her fingers.
The High Tender leaned forward. "We have never tested it like this before."
"Call it a hunch." Gregor pointed. "There, at the base of the thumb slot." He paused as the High Tender brought out the first pen with her blood sample in it and deposited a single drop in the receptacle. He moved to fill the other end. Gregor placed a restraining hand on his arm. "No, just the single drop."
The High Tender shrugged. "The minimum sample size is five millimeters. That will barely wet the sensors."
Gregor pressed the second switch. A white glow appeared at the edges of the disks. Then, it flashed. He leaned forward, an odd gleam in his eyes.
The rod at her pinky finger flared into life with a bright white light. That was kind of cool. Wait, maybe she shouldn't be excited about this.
Gregor leaned back. "Told you so."
The rod at her ring finger came to life and then the third tube blossomed into brilliance. The fourth light lit up and Gregor's smile went very wide.
"Congratulations, Sire, she is s'vlor," High Tender Marcus said. "She will be yours."
Not if she had any say.
By the time the fifth light lit up, Gregor beamed. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and he laughed. "I told you. I knew it!" He gave a great whoop, slapped his knees, and jumped to his feet. "I knew it!" He pointed to the five glowing tubes held between Elise's hands. "Fifth Rank WOR!"
She stared at the two men. This wasn't good.
"That was one hell of a hunch," the High Tender remarked.
"She lights up the Tenderstat with only a hundredth of the sample size. Do you understand what this means?"
"Do you?" The High Tender looked troubled.
Gregor waggled a finger. "Ah, but you are the best Conclave Tender Master in hundreds of years. You will train this one." He flicked his eyes to her while she stared, entranced by the Tenderstat and glowing lights.
The five rods flared with a brilliant hypnotizing light. As she stared, the glow intensified, responding to her will. The discs grew warm, and the sensation traveled up her arms to settle in her chest until she became one with the device. The light pulsed with the beat of her heart. She tapped her fingers in time with the rhythmic flashes. Either she controlled them or they controlled her. It was hard to tell, but the rhythm drew her in.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
Her mind moved with the light as it framed out a melody. The first rod turned red.
The men stopped talking although she wouldn't have heard them if they'd yelled.
She and the Tenderstat were the only things in her universe, like it had some kind of pull on her. The rest of the world faded away. The second rod turned orange. Then a rainbow of colored light lit up the Tenderstat's five rods. Yellow, green, and blue sprang to life.
Elise stared into the light, watching it pulse, urging it to move faster and faster. She hoped to escape, and she poured these thoughts into the contraption she held in her hands. The color flickered and flashed. A rainbow marched forward as each color jumped to its neighbor's rod. A cascade of color leapt from tube to tube. It changed again, as the rainbow moved not just from rod to rod, but spiraled up from the ends towards the center and moved back out again.
A kaleidoscope of color swirled in the Tenderstat. It was the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen, and with it power washed over her. She could almost touch it and reached out to do just that, but like water, it slipped through her fingers. Frustrated, she cried out.
The Tenderstat exploded, shocking her out of her trance. The power dissipated. The tubes disgorged their contents of black marbles. In her periphery, the guards scrambled to capture the little black balls as they tumbled to the floor. She held two black discs in her hands, fingers trapped in the grooves.
She looked to Gregor, a brow lifted in question.
His expression was one of shock, or amazement. Satisfaction quickly replaced it.
"Satisfied?" His words were not meant for her, but rather the High Tender.
There was nothing friendly in that tone.
It didn't matter who was in charge. Both men scared her. Gregor claimed her—he said so—but the High Tender appeared to control her fate until he released her to Gregor.
She found the balance of power between them confusing.
"What happens now?"
Gregor finally answered one of her questions. "We take you home."
THIS IS NOT THE END!
VENDEL RISING: VOLUME 2
WOMEN OF RANK
is next!
Follow Elise’s journey with the Vendel as she seeks her revenge.
Grab your copy now!
Women of Rank
Volume 2
Part One
Prologue
New Terra Histories by Malita s’Lissa s’vlor
Life is but a collection of moments, some more memorable than others.
Every now and again a moment comes along, so intense that indelible memories are forever carved in our minds. We remember what we were doing, feeling, seeing, hearing, and tasting at the exact instant our lives changed.
I remembered two things: the warm, rich scent of a powerful man, and the agony of the braklav.
June 2, 2136:
Aliens had landed. We were not alone. The Vendel had somehow risen into the sky and traveled to the stars thousands of years before the rest of humanity launched our first rocket to the moon. In the deep reaches of space, an empire flourished and we knew nothing about them.
I never understood why no one thought to ask why the Vendel had returned. With so many planets, why come back to Earth? Why had they left to begin with? Perhaps we should’ve asked before inviting them to dinner.
Death began with a simple cough or sneeze. Like the Black Death of the Middle Ages, people who were hale and hearty in the morning, were dead by nightfall. Billions died at the hands of the Vendel.
For a few of us, we weren’t touched at all. At least not on the outside, inside was a different matter. The Vendel collected us, tested us, ranked us, and remade us, although it would be a long time before we understood what that meant.
Gregor Ulysses vlor’Malita claims to have our interests in mind, humanity’s interests, and perhaps there is a kernel of truth in that statement.
