Paradise Forgotten Trilogy

by Mackenzie Morris

  "Of course. Why?"

  "Io told me Midas was hurt."

  "Oh . . . they're just . . . playing. I have to get back inside. Farewell." Xanthe says.

  "Hold on. Can I come inside to talk? Do you know about Troy?"

  "I have to go back inside. It's . . . gravely urgent. You should leave."

  "Are you okay? Is the baby okay?" Zodiac asks.

  "Goodbye, Zodiac. It was nice knowing you. You really shouldn't have gone through the trouble to bring Io home. Look out for any guards on your way home. Maybe they can help your sister. We all need help sometimes." Xanthe locks eyes with him. "We all need help." She goes inside and pulls Io along with her before closing the door.

  * * *

  The steaming water from the shower is heaven on Troy's sore and aching muscles. Finally, he gets to wash his hair that had grown very gross with mud, sand, blood, and remnants of sticky apple juice. The water in the bottom of the shower turns brown and rust-colored from the caked on layers of dirt and blood being scrubbed off his body. He closes his eyes as he feels the water run over him. He turns the water off and wraps a towel around his waist after drying his hair. Stepping into the main part of the bedroom, he sees that Silver has laid out some clothes for him on Orion's bed.

  "Feel better?"

  Troy nods his head and goes to Silver's side. "Are these my clothes?"

  "This is what all the slaves wear. I'm sure you saw the others wearing the same thing. White cotton pants, thin black long-sleeved tunic, white leather vest, black leather boots and belt, socks, and underwear. It's simple, yet practical. It's cool for going out into the desert. It should be the right size. Well, get dressed then you can eat. I'm sure you're starving after fighting earlier. Oh, one more thing. Catch." Silver tosses him a small plastic vial. "Hair gel. Go fix your hair, man."

  Troy smiles. "Thanks."

  "Don't thank me. Thank your owner. Do you need me to put some ointment on your back?"

  "Nah. I'm not bleeding anymore." Troy says.

  "Okay. I'm sure Orion will do a full inspection later."

  Troy gathers his clothes and takes them into the bathroom where he gets dressed and spikes his hair the way he likes it. He looks at himself in the full-length mirror on the wall. Who is he? Piercings in his ears, a ring in his nose, a brand of a spider on his forehead, and purple eyes? He doesn't recognize himself. Who does he see looking back at him? A slave.

  "Hurry up, Troy." Silver calls to him. "I have some mission stuff to tend to in about thirty minutes. If you want to eat before you go down into the warrens, then you need to get out here. And trust me, you want to eat. I made my famous spaghetti. It's the best damned spaghetti in the galaxy. It's some fancy French recipe Jayce used to make."

  "Do French chefs usually make spaghetti?"

  "Jayce did. That's all I know. I never questioned him." Silver claps his hands as Troy steps out of the bathroom. "Look at you. It's almost as if that uniform was made for you. You look good. So what happened to your eyes?"

  "The nanobots in my power armor got into my blood."

  "Ah. So that's why you have those studs in your ears. Lead?"

  "Yep." Troy says.

  "Here. Come eat." Silver sits at the table and watches Troy closely as he joins him. "You've had a really rough week, haven't you?"

  Troy ravenously eats the pasta as he speaks. "You have no idea."

  "So, how's my son?"

  "He flies a cargo ship and takes deliveries to the IGR planets. You should know that he hates you. Not a little bit, but he's told me how he plans to kill you. It's quite graphic."

  Silver crosses his arms. "So he meant it, did he? If I left, he would hate me forever."

  "Yeah . . . he meant it. Zodiac has a crazy good memory. Oh. Did you know about the archon that is supposedly protecting him?"

  "Gabriel? So he's still around enough to care about Zodiac? That's encouraging at least."

  "Why did you leave ten years ago and never come back?" Troy asks.

  "I'm a wanted man with knowledge of secrets I was never meant to know. That's all you get to know. I shouldn't even be talking to you while you're in training. Spoiled slaves lead to anarchy. I'll let Orion make the primary decisions regarding your training, though. Well, I have to get to work so you've got to go down into the warrens until Orion finishes pleasing Mistress."

  "Who's Mistress?"

  "Shut up. You don't get to speak about her. Now come here." Silver takes the leash from the wall then locks it around Troy's nose ring. When Troy grumbles under his breath, Silver slaps him incredibly hard across his face as he pulls on the leash, causing Troy yelp in pain. "Never complain. You are a slave. You take what you're given, be it good or bad. Now, follow me."

  * * *

  Well, that was certainly odd. Zodiac goes over what just happened with Io and Xanthe. Maybe Io was just playing around and telling stories. Xanthe insisted that everything was fine. Still, it doesn't quite sit right with him. His concerns soon switch to himself and Nova when he turns the corner on the street leading past his house.

  Soldiers in silver armor with black capes embroidered with the red and yellow skull of the IGR military are gathered around something in the backyard. What are IGR soldiers doing on Olympus? More importantly, what are IGR soldiers doing in his yard?

  Blice emerges from the front door and runs up to Zodiac. "Where have you been?"

  "I wasn't gone for very long. What is all this?"

  "They found two bodies buried behind your house. Seems that your father assassinated two IGR peace ambassadors about ten years ago. That's when he left, right?"

  "Yeah. What about Nova?" Zodiac asks. "Is she okay?"

  "She's fine. She's asleep. What's wrong? Don't worry about those soldiers. Despite what you've been told, the IGR isn't evil. While I don't agree that they should just move in and take over, I'm not opposed to an alliance, either. Their chancellor is actually one of my old friends from Earth. I'm sure I can draw up a treaty that would strengthen both the IGR and Olympus."

  "So what do we do now?"

  "Let them do their job." Blice says. "Meanwhile, I'm hungry. You got any food?"

  "Uh . . ."

  "I already moved my stuff in."

  Whoa. Hold on. "Moved your stuff in? You can't live with me."

  "I can and I do." Blice says with a stupid grin on his face. "You belong to me now, remember? Now, let's make something to eat. I'm thinking Wasteland Pizza. You know, the pizza you put everything you can find on top then bake it? It's a delicacy from Earth."

  "Sounds . . . terrible."

  * * *

  Silver guides Troy into an elevator and presses the button labeled Slave Warrens. After the doors slide closed, he reaches up and turns the gold ring in Troy's nose. "You're still bleeding a bit. Oh, did that hurt? You're crying."

  "I'm fine."

  "You won't have to be led around by this leash forever." Silver says. "After we can trust you to obey like we need you to, then you'll be like the other slaves you see around here who follow their masters willingly. It usually takes about two to three months. When I trained my slave, Paris, he had to have the leash for close to two years. But that's children for you. They like to do their own thing. He's the best, though. Training him and having him as my slave has been one of the greatest joys of my life. I wouldn't trade him for any other slave. Mistress says I spoil him too much, but I just can't help myself. He reminds me of Zodiac who I never got to watch grow up very much. With Paris, it's like I'm a father again. I can teach him all the things I wanted to teach my son." The elevator stops and Silver gently pulls Troy forward into a large open room where what looks to be around a hundred male slaves dressed in just tan pants are kept in a common area with tables and chairs. Around that are rows of tiny cages, just big enough for a man to sit inside comfortably, two men at the most.

  Troy's heart sinks when Silver leads him through the crowd of slaves who lick their lips and whisper to him all the disturbing details abou
t what they want to do to him. And now he's going to be left here with them?

  Silver takes out a whip from his pocket and swats them away. "Stay back. He's been claimed. If any of you touch him, you will be shot out in the sand pit." He stops in front of one of the metal cages and swings the front open. "Get in. Sorry about this, but your master's orders are final." He wraps Troy's leash around one of the bars and pushes him inside before slamming the front and locking it. "Orion will be back to get you later. He shouldn't be gone much longer. Play nice with the others."

  As he watches Silver step into the elevator and the doors close, Troy sits down on the stone floor with his back against the wall of his cage to cause the least tension against his leash. The shirtless slaves surround his cage like hungry sharks waiting to devour him. He holds his knees to his chest and closes his eyes in an attempt to ignore them. They keep commenting on his hair, his eyes, his muscles. When their rough, calloused hands mess with his clothes and caress his neck, he remains calm. When those same hands pull on the leash, bringing him closer to them and a couple of the men unzip their pants, Troy screams and hits at them. They grab his wrists and twist his arms through the bars so he can't move as the biggest one there steps up to the cage and pulls down his pants.

  "Open that pretty pure mouth of yours. If you bite, I rip that ring out of your nose."

  A small voice calls over the crowd. "Stop it, Big Meanies! You leave him alone!"

  The large man grumbles as he pulls his pants back up and steps away from the cage. The slaves holding Troy's arms leave as well and the group parts as a young impure Nymph boy in slave clothes like Troy's steps up to the cage and holds out his hand through the bars towards Troy. "You must be Troy."

  Still shaken up and rubbing the red marks on his arms, Troy gingerly reaches out to take the boy's hand. "Yes . . . I, I'm Troy."

  "I'm Paris. I heard you scream."

  "Thank you for stopping them." Troy says.

  "They're called the Big Meanies. They're the slaves that the agents find out in the desert and cut them out of their evil armor."

  "Evil armor?"

  Paris nods his head. "Yep. They were trapped in their armor and went crazy. That's why they're so angry all the time."

  Trapped in armor? "What does the armor look like?"

  "Big, heavy, and silver. Oh, and with buttons on it."

  "Sounds like power armor."

  Paris shrugs his shoulders and pushes his long black bangs out of his eyes to reveal a rough pink burn all the way from his hairline, down the left side of his face, to his neck, then it disappears under the collar of his shirt. "I like your nose ring."

  "I don't."

  "Why not? Yours is solid gold. It's very expensive. Master Orion wanted his slave to have a nice one. He bought that five years ago. Mine is special too. It's silver with rubies in it."

  "I can see that." Troy says.

  "Master Silver says I'm the best slave ever. You can be the second best if you want. Have you met my master?"

  "Silver? Yeah."

  He glares at Troy and places his hands on his hips. "You have to call him Master Silver."

  "Sorry. Master Silver."

  "Isn't he nice?" He leans closer with wide eyes. "Can you keep a secret?"

  "Sure."

  "He brings me chocolate from the city sometimes because I'm the best ever. I'll share with you."

  "No thanks." Troy says.

  Paris bounces on his toes and smiles. "I like your brand. There aren't any slaves here with a brand on their face. Where are you from?"

  "Athens."

  "Oh. So you were a prisoner like my mommy. I last saw her at the arena and she had that same spider brand. I didn't see her again. Did it hurt?"

  "A lot." Troy says. "They burn you with hot glowing metal."

  "They burn it on you?"

  "Yep."

  He looks down at the grey stone floor as he touches the side of his face. "Oh. I don't like burns."

  "What happened to your face?"

  "My burn?" Paris lifts up his tunic to reveal that his burn covers the entire left half of his body. "That's why my mommy was a prisoner . . ." His voice trails off as tears swell in his eyes and he runs off to the elevator.

  "Paris? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. Come back! Don't leave me here with these men." Troy's heartbeat races as the slaves surround him again. "Someone help me!"

  13

  Troy is once again forced up against the bars of the metal cage as the men pull brutally on the leash and hold onto his arms, preventing him from fighting back. His tears stream down his face as he screams until the man standing in front of him lowers his pants and presses himself into Troy's unwilling mouth.

  "Enough!" Orion shouts as he fires a pistol at the ceiling. "Let him go. He belongs to me!"

  The slaves release him and back away as they fix their pants. Troy collapses on the floor and sobs as he wipes the man's salty sweat from his lips. He can still taste him and he vomits on the floor.

  Orion points the pistol at the man who is till eyeing Troy. "You there, get on your knees."

  "Go to hell."

  The shot echoes around the cavern as all the other men drop to their knees. The man's blood splatters at his feet and he falls lifeless to the floor with a bullet hole between his eyes. The slaves remain silent as Orion walks past them to the cage. "Oh, Troy . . . I'm so sorry." He unlocks the cage and unwraps the leash from the metal bar. "Stand up, please. Let's get you cleaned up." He puts his arm around Troy's back and helps him out of the cage and to the elevator. "Unbelievable. You have to believe me that I never meant for that to happen. There's no excuse for that, but I think I might know why they wanted you so much. You're a pure Nymph. They have pent up anger and hatred for always being treated poorly by people who look like you." Orion helps him down the hallway to his room and takes him into the bathroom. "Get cleaned up then we'll talk. I have clean clothes for you. I truly am sorry."

  * * *

  After the hottest shower of his life, brushing his teeth four times, and half a bottle of mouthwash, Troy stumbles out of the bathroom in a pair of Orion's boxers and a soft t-shirt. He feels nothing anymore. He can't cry or scream. He's too exhausted for that. When the coolness of the air conditioner hits him, he falls to his hands and knees as the world spins around him. If there is a wall where sheer physical exhaustion and emotional trauma can stop a person cold, Troy just hit it. His arms give out and he hits the floor.

  "Troy?" Orion runs to him and tries to help him, but he can't get him up. "Troy, don't die on me."

  "I'm not dying." Troy mumbles. "Let me sleep. Please, Master. Let me sleep."

  "Of course. I know you're tired. Can you crawl over here beside my bed? I have some blankets and a pillow for you."

  Troy manages to make it to the blanket and collapse on his back. He opens his eyes as he hears the dreaded click of the leash being clipped around his nose ring and locked. He looks over to see it connected to a ring on the wall. Really? He has to sleep like this?

  "Don't look so sad, Troy. I have to keep you chained here until I can trust you. It will be all right. I promise. I'll find a way to make this up to you. Just get some sleep."

  The door opens and Silver tosses Orion's pistol on the bed. "You dropped that. I came as soon as I heard. What happened?"

  "One of the Big Meanies forced himself on Troy. Let's just say I'm gonna need another bottle of mouthwash."

  "It's not funny, Orion." Silver sits down on the floor next to Troy. "We're here for you. That wasn't part of your training or any attempt to teach you a lesson. We aren't that cruel. What they did to you was inexcusable. You're never going back down there. Orion will always defend you.

  "I shot the slave who did it and I'll kill anyone who tries that again."

  Troy sits up and rubs his eyes. "Thank you for your kindness, Master. Forgive me for being weak."

  "Don't worry about it. I really don't know how you're still awake after the day you've ha
d. I'll give you a choice. We can either finish up the last couple of initial things I need to go over now or you can get up early and we'll do it then."

  "Do it now and get it over with, Master."

  "All you have to do is be still and not freak out, okay?" Orion pulls up Troy's shirt and examines the wounds on his back carefully for a few minutes then lays him down and slides Troy's boxers down.

  Troy grits his teeth as Orion's hands feel him and prod him in every intimate place. He's too tired to offer any kind of protest. This goes on for what feels like hours as Orion and Silver examine him closely from his hair to his toes. They are whispering to each other, just low enough to where he can't hear what they're saying. Troy has come to the uncomfortable realization that he has no personal space anymore. Nothing is private when it comes to Orion. That's simply a part of being a slave.

  "Troy, did you know you live up to your last name?" Silver asks with a smile. "You're quite an Adonis. How does a knight in power armor get muscles bigger than mine?"

  That actually makes him smile as he covers his eyes with his arm. Oh, Silver. Creepy old man. But Troy is thankful for the company of a person he trusts even a tiny bit in this chaotic change in his life.

  "You didn't tell me what you did to end up branded and made to fight in the arena." Silver says.

  Orion looks at Troy's teeth. "He was wrongfully accused of raping and murdering your daughter."

  "What happened to Nova?"

  "Nothing." Orion says. "She's fine. I saw her myself. She assured us it was consensual."

  "So you slept with my daughter?"

  Troy closes his eyes and prepares for being yelled at. Being naked in front of a man when he finds out that he's slept with his daughter isn't the best feeling in the world. Please don't let him want revenge.

  "It's about damn time. You two were flirtatious even back when I was around. As long as you kids used protection, then it's fine with me."

  Oh no. Troy knew there was something he forgot. How could that have slipped his mind? That brings on an entirely new set of possible problems. He had been so caught up in the moment that he didn't even think about it.