Centyr Dominance

by Michael G. Manning

  That got his attention. The guard straightened and walked closer, “What do you want?”

  Her eyes went to his companion, who stood across the hall showing little interest in either of them, then they returned to the guard before her. “I’m thirsty,” she said.

  “You aren’t allowed to have water,” said the guard firmly, letting his gaze travel downward. He was separated from her by only three feet now.

  Moira sent a delicate line of aythar outward, touching his mind. It would have been easy if it weren’t for the manacles, but now it took everything she had. A quick pulse turned his mild lust into a burning fire. The guard’s pupils dilated, and his lips parted slightly as his breathing became shallow and husky. “Maybe if we were alone, you’d be able to quench my thirst,” she told him. I can’t believe I just said that.

  The man leaned closer, his face almost against the bars, and she could smell his sour breath, “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

  She wanted to vomit, but instead she turned her gaze downward, toward the supposed object of her desire. Meeting his eyes again, she answered, “I think we both would.”

  Unable to control his lust any longer, the guard reached through and pulled her harshly against the bars with one hand before using his other hand to grope roughly at her chest. Moira gasped in pain as he pinched her. Of course, the guard was too besotted to hear her cry as one of pain, instead he took it as further confirmation of her desire.

  “Not like this,” she protested, as her eyes watered. “We need privacy to do this right.”

  “Yeah,” said the man. Turning back, he looked at the other guard, who was watching them with some interest now. He walked over to him, and the two of them talked in quiet whispers for a moment. The other man smiled, leering at her.

  With her magesight, she could see that the other man was growing excited as well. No, that’s not what I meant, you dolt! Fear and adrenaline shot through her as the other guard unlocked her cell, and the two of them entered together. Focus, she told herself. Her plan wouldn’t work if she let herself be rattled. One she thought she could handle, but she wouldn’t be able to do anything if she let her fear overwhelm her. She needed precision. Self-control was paramount to her ability to manipulate others minds.

  Watching the two of them, she could see that the first guard, the one she had started with, was a blazing pyre of passion, while the second was merely moderately aroused. The second one spoke then, “You go first, Lenny. I’ll just watch, unless she puts up a fight.”

  Lenny grinned, “You sure?”

  “Yeah, I ain’t quite ready yet, so try to make a show of it.” Looking at her, he addressed her directly, “Take the dress off, wench.”

  She held her wrists up to remind them of the manacles, “Why don’t you help me, Lenny?” She attempted a smile to put the guard at ease, but her nervousness twisted it into a strange parody of a genuine smile.

  Lenny needed no urging. Stepping forward, he brought one hand up, intending to grab her neckline and rip downward, but Moira had already seen his rough intentions. Fighting down her fear, she stepped into him before he could get a firm grip and lifted her chin as though she meant to kiss him.

  Mildly surprised, Lenny let his hand slide downward to pull her hips against him as he lowered his head toward hers. As soon as their bodies came close Moira struck. A fine thread of aythar lanced outward, driving into the guard’s lust addled mind. In spite of the manacles, her desperation made the initial mind touch a little rougher than it ought to have been. Lenny jerked slightly as her mind caught his firmly in its grip.

  Beyond that, however, he continued on his quest for satisfaction. Lenny’s hands roamed across her back and derriere.

  Moira felt as though she were drowning. The manacles sapped her strength, making each moment a trial to maintain the mental contact. At first she tried to dampen Lenny’s passion, to turn it from its course, but his basic instinct was too strong for that. Without even being aware of what he was doing, he fought her.

  A rising sense of panic threatened to overwhelm her inner calm, but Moira refused to let go. Strengthening her resolve, she clamped down harder on Lenny’s mind. No, this isn’t what you want. Protect me, help me!

  For a moment it seemed an impossible task until with a final twist of will she felt his mind snap. Lenny sagged against her, and she felt the candle that was the wellspring of his life wink out. No! That’s not what was supposed to happen. He was dead.

  His heart still beat, and his lungs still moved, but he was as dead as the king she had met in the throne room—and she had killed him as surely as she had the people fighting in the audience chamber earlier. This time, though, it had been entirely her decisions that had led to the guard’s death. This time she felt his passing directly, and now she was holding his limp form upright.

  She also confirmed the source of the control the guards and others had been under earlier. During her battle to control Lenny’s mind, she had seen it, a small metallic creature embedded in the back of his throat. Fine metal filaments extended upward from the bizarre abomination, weaving themselves into the small apple-like part of the brain that topped the spine.

  Moira already knew that that area was a sort of control center for the physical body, the place where commands were sent to enable conscious control of the limbs. If that was how the thing worked, it made sense that the earlier victims had been trapped within their minds. They had been partly awake, but direct control of their bodies had been overridden.

  Thus far the strange thing seemed to still be dormant.

  “Are you alright, Lenny?” questioned the guard watching them. It was obvious that something was wrong.

  Moira wasn’t sure how long Lenny’s body would survive his passing. According to her mother, it might be days before the brain began to die, but once it did, everything else would follow in short order. Without knowing what else to do, she did what came instinctively, she created a simple spellmind. It was a matter of half a minute’s work, during which she slumped, letting the guard’s body fall over her own.

  The second guard would want answers soon. She intended to make sure Lenny was ready to give them. Having so little time, she imbued the mind with only one directive. Protect me. With that she released him; she had no energy left to do more anyway.

  Lenny stiffened as the new mind took over. He gazed down at her with an expression of adoration as he used his arms to lever himself upward. As he stood he placed himself between her and the other man, but things began to go wrong from there.

  The beast within his throat had awoken.

  The second guard had gone blank as well. Staring at Lenny, he spoke in a flat voice, “Anomaly detected.”

  Lenny was twitching. His new spellmind was struggling with the metal insect for control of his body. “A—a—greed,” he replied.

  The other guard strode from the cell, moving to snatch up one of the heavy truncheons they had left in the hall. He returned seconds later, raising the weapon and preparing to dash poor Lenny’s brains out.

  “No!” shouted Moira. Launching herself from the floor, she dashed at the second man, catching his arm and knocking him sideways. Lenny still stood motionless, but she knew that if she let the other guard kill him, she would lose her only ally. Well, kill what was left of him. Lenny wasn’t precisely a living person anymore, but he was hers.

  The other man was too strong for her. She fought tooth and nail, but he pinned her arms within his own. The manacles didn’t help, of course, but he was so much stronger it wouldn’t have mattered, even had she been entirely free. He held her still while Lenny approached from behind, making each step as though it were an accomplishment as his body twitched and jerked. He had produced a small knife, and it was clear that he meant to drive it into her back.

  The irony of her situation didn’t escape her. I’m about to be the first Centyr to be murdered by her own spellbeast. Frantically, she sought to use her remaining aythar to take control of the gua
rd holding her, but she had no time and too little energy left.

  She felt the knife pass by her right ear, so closely that if she had turned her head it might have done her serious harm. The blade sank into the chest of the guard holding her. Her spellbeast was still fighting for control of Lenny’s body.

  The arms holding her fell away as the guard grabbed at Lenny’s knife arm, struggling to pull the blade from his chest. The guard grappled with Lenny, or he would have, if Lenny had been capable of resisting, but the thing in his throat had her spellbeast in a stalemate again. He convulsed as he fought the creature controlling him, while his compatriot took the knife from his hand and turned it around.

  Moira had relaxed her legs, falling to the ground when the guard’s grip had slackened. There she saw his fallen truncheon. Snatching it up, she lurched to her feet and brought it two-handed down on the back of the man’s unguarded head. She was rewarded with a sickening crunch, and her jailor crumpled to the floor.

  Lenny watched her with desperate eyes, locked in his own internal battle, his body shuddering and trembling. Eventually he lost his balance and collapsed. Moira moved to help him, kneeling beside his semi-rigid form.

  Her magesight could see the struggle within him. The metal thing was sending a steady stream of commands to his brain, while the spell-beast was attempting to resist them by sending its own commands directly to the spinal column. The resulting discord created a sort of tug-of-war, and neither could gain the upper hand.

  “Hang on. I’ll try to help you,” she told him, but his eyes showed no sign of comprehension. The spellmind was too simple. She hadn’t had the time to include proper language when she had created it.

  Putting that thought aside for a moment, she turned her attention to the struggle inside Lenny’s twitching body. She had little strength, so she did the only thing available to her. Extending her limited aythar once more, she dampened the section of the brain that the metal filaments connected to. It was a poor solution, she knew that. Without that part of the brain, her spellbeast would be clumsy and poorly coordinated, but if it worked, he would at least have sole control of the body.

  The twitching subsided, and Lenny’s body took a slow deliberate breath. The look of relief in his eyes was enough confirmation for her. It had worked. He sat up and gave her a lopsided smile accompanied by a satisfied grunt, “Oohn!”

  She nodded, although she doubted he understood even that gesture. Now what do I do?

  Chapter 9

  Gram and Chad waited a long while before emerging from the cellar. They couldn’t be sure how long it had been, but Gram would have guessed it was at least a half an hour, possibly longer. It had certainly seemed like an eternity since he had been trapped in a small space with the fetid stench.

  He had listened carefully for several minutes, letting his ears assure him that there was no one nearby, when they opened the doors and climbed out. After that they began walking. They had given up on the city gate for the time being, it was sure to be watched after the incidents they had been involved in.

  Gram was careful to think of it that way. They had been ‘involved’, rather than they had ‘started a mass slaughter’. It was the truth, they hadn’t forced the fight, it had been forced on them, but it had most certainly become a slaughter once their hand had been forced. What happens if they find us again? Will I kill more ordinary men and women? He couldn’t think of them as opponents, or soldiers. Their behavior had definitely been abnormal, but they had been regular townsfolk. What if the next ones are children?

  “Keep moving,” urged Chad. “A nice casual walk is all we need. If we move too quickly, we’ll draw attention.”

  “We didn’t do anything to draw attention last time,” said Gram.

  “Well, until we understand what the hell is goin’ on, that’s the best we can do,” growled the ranger.

  Gram’s sharp hearing picked up the sounds of a group of people ahead. “There’s a large group near the next intersection,” he warned.

  “Let’s stop in here then,” said Chad, indicating a bakery they had just passed.

  “There’s at least one person in there,” said Gram nervously.

  “Better one than fifteen,” returned the older man, and without waiting to continue the discussion, he moved toward the door. Gram reluctantly followed him.

  “Thank the gods that ye’re open,” said the ranger boisterously as they entered.

  The baker was a fat balding man who looked at them with some surprise as they stepped in the door. “Good day. I hadn’t expected to have any more business today, what with crazed madmen on the loose.” His eyes took in their appearance as he spoke, and his voice grew tighter before he finished his sentence. Gram had dismissed his armor and hidden Thorn, this time sending it to its extradimensional pocket. Even so, they were both clearly foreigners. That combined with the recent events was enough to cast them in a light of heavy suspicion.

  One other person stood in the shop, taking possession of a small sack of fresh bread that the baker had just handed her. The woman turned and stared at them.

  Gram froze, his jaw going slack. Light olive skin and dark hair framed a pair of deep brown eyes, eyes that had haunted his dreams. It was Alyssa.

  Her expression went through several rapid shifts, shock, sadness, and finally alarm. “What are you doing here?” she said softly, taking one uncertain step forward, before stopping. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s too dangerous.”

  Gram walked toward her slowly, stammering, “Alyssa—Jasmine, I feared you were dead…” His vision blurred as he blinked away unbidden tears.

  “Ahh fuck it all,” muttered Chad under his breath. “This ain’t good.” The baker had already left the counter, heading for the back. Whatever he had surmised about the situation, it probably involved finding the town guard.

  “Stay back,” warned Alyssa as Gram approached. She would have retreated, but she was cornered in the small shop with nowhere to go. “You don’t understand. I’m dangerous.”

  Gram ignored her, closing the space between them. “I don’t care. Why didn’t you come back?”

  Alyssa’s face changed then, relaxing, her fear gone. Reaching out she slid one hand behind his head and pulled his face toward hers. Confused, Gram didn’t fight it. He had dreamt of kissing her once more every night since he had thought she died. His lips met hers, and for a moment his world brightened again.

  Until he felt the strange metal thing clawing its way into his mouth.

  Chad watched them anxiously, “We need to go, boy. Bring her with us if you must, but we can’t dawdle. That baker’s gone to warn someone.”

  Gram let out a garbled cry as he pushed Alyssa away and stumbled back. He clawed at his mouth with his hands, but whatever had gotten in was too far back and it was boring into the back of his throat.

  “That’s what love will get ya,” observed Chad, thinking to make a joke, but he quickly realized that something was seriously wrong. “What did you do to him!?” he demanded of the young woman.

  Alyssa ignored his question even as she advanced on the hunter, a familiar dead expression in her eyes.

  Several things passed through Chad’s mind in an instant. He knew from the past that Alyssa was a deadly fighter. Facing her head on would probably be a mistake, even for him. He also knew that killing her would be the last thing Gram would want, no matter what she had just done. If he had had an arrow, he might still have done it, though, Gram’s wishes be damned.

  Whipping his bow-stave across, he sought to drive her back long enough to get his long knife out, but the girl didn’t even dodge. The wood caught her solidly in the cheek, sending her sprawling to the floor. Never one to waste an opportunity, he pounced, grappling with her and twisting her head painfully to one side as he brought his knife to bear. He hesitated after that only for Gram’s sake.

  “What did you do to him bitch?!” he spat, pressing the sharp edge against her bare throat.

  She didn’t answer
, however, instead she continued to struggle, heedless of the mortal threat his knife represented. His superior strength and weight made it a losing proposition for her, not that it mattered, for she fought like an amateur, her movements clumsy and lacking any finesse.

  “Gram, are you alright? Talk to me!” he shouted.

  The young warrior didn’t respond, and his thrashing movements became more frantic and less deliberate. He appeared to be having a seizure.

  That bizarre scene continued for several minutes. Chad hung on desperately to the still fighting woman, while calling out to his younger companion. Eventually, Gram’s seizure stopped, and his body became still, but when he pushed himself up from the floor, the look in his eyes sent a chilling jolt down the ranger's spine.

  They were dead eyes, set in a flat, expressionless face.

  “That ain’t funny, boy,” said Chad, but he knew it was no joke. His fight with Alyssa had changed. No longer was he fighting to keep her under control until Gram could recover, now he was trying to disentangle himself from her, before the two of them could bear him down together. If Gram’s fighting skills were similar to hers, he could probably kill them both, but that wasn’t the solution he was hoping for.

  Shoving her away he jumped to his feet before she could grapple him once more. A swift kick to the head sent her flying back when she lunged at him. He felt a little bad about that, but he had no time for games as he backed rapidly toward the door. Clumsy or not, Gram was far too strong to get away from, if the lad got his hands on him.

  A whistle in the distance told him that the baker had found the watchmen. Ducking out the door he ran for the corner. He was alone now.

  ***

  Moira let out her breath slowly, relaxing finally. The keys had let her into Gerold’s cell, but it had been a tense quarter of an hour while she tried to stop his internal bleeding. Trying to affect material things with her magic while wearing the moon-shackles was frustrating, rather like trying to sew while wearing winter gloves. No, not just heavy gloves, metal gauntlets, she mentally corrected herself. It took enormous concentration and effort to make even the tiniest changes.