by Jeff Gunzel
Entering her body, his warrior’s instincts sent off urgent waves of alarm. What was she doing? Her body was icy cool even from the inside. She tugged his hips again, forcing him deeper inside. So cold. Unnatural. Confused, Umoro hated this lack of control. He was the one who was supposed to be imposing himself, not the other way around. Everything felt...wrong.
Viola leaned in, her icy wet lips brushing against his cheek. As her tongue tauntingly flicked his earlobe, she whispered, “How many women have you forced yourself upon? Can you still see their faces?” No longer could he deny his terror building within. He turned his face and looked straight into those bloodred eyes. Her black lips curled up in a fiendish grin. “Were they too afraid to scream?” She paused, her glare burning into his soul. “I think I want to hear you scream.” Her voice was so soft, so confident...so terrifying.
Her teeth flashed, jaw snapping like a piranha. Umoro’s eyes bulged as white-hot pain shot down the side of his neck. His reddening face trembled, mouth gaping open in a silent scream with his tongue dangling out. His mind spinning, he couldn’t even grasp the reality of the situation. Blood rushed from the open wound at an alarming rate. Finally finding his voice, he shrieked a shrill, shameless pitch that could shatter glass. He wailed like a tortured animal.
With her fingernails digging into the back of his neck, Viola clung to the thrashing warrior with all her strength. Her cheeks pulsed with a rhythmic wet slurping, throat muscles contracting with each rush of fresh blood. I’ll drain the life from you, you bastard! The world will be a better place without you! With his urgent screams echoing down the hall, soon came the clanking of armored footsteps. Guards flooded the room. Among the shouts to break it up, a flurry of arms grabbed and pulled, trying to pry them apart. Viola clung fast; each fresh mouthful of blood gained was another step towards her goal. I’ll suck the life from you!
Her clamped teeth holding fast, the two of them rolled from the bed down onto the floor. Tangled up with the guards, more flooded in each second. Several hands snatched the back of Viola’s hair. They pulled with all their might, feet braced against the wall. Her mouth pulled free with a snapping crunch, a spray of blood splattering the wall as well as some of the guards. Groaning in agony, flailing wildly as they tried to take hold of him, three guards managed to drag Umoro from the room. He was in bad shape, but the healers were nearby and almost certainly awake after the rowdy outburst.
Viola sat on the floor, chest heaving, her mouth and front completely stained red. The guards watched her, hands fingering swords as they considered what to do with her. A man near the front turned back and shook his head. Without a word of explanation they all backed away, filtering through the doorway one at a time. Viola was certain she would be punished, possibly even executed for this hostile act against one of her team. It would probably happen first thing in the morning. Umoro needed medical aid before any other decisions could be made. It wasn’t like she was going anywhere. They had plenty of time to report what she had done.
“What’s going on over there?” Nald called from the hallway. Viola heard rushed footsteps heading towards her room.
“Back to your room,” a guard ordered. The footsteps halted. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“I just want to see if Viola’s all right.”
“Back!” She could hear the steps backing away.
Viola sat still, the low flickering light of a dying lantern the only thing to keep her company. There was blood on the floor, spattered across the wall in thick trailing drips. Although it looked like a massacre had just happened, everything was so still and silent now. She could even hear the tiny flame of the lantern crackling, disturbed by an unfelt breeze. She looked up at the sound of dragging feet just outside in the hall. Drunkenly, Salina hooked the side of the doorway and swung her head through. Hair a mess, she looked angry. Then she saw the state of their room, blood everywhere, much of it covering Viola.
“Umoro?” she asked, hardly able to spit out the word among her shock.
Lips caked with thickening blood, Viola nodded. “Did he hurt you?” Viola asked, noticing the old woman clutching a bump on her head.
Salina stood up straight, chin high. “I’m fine,” she assured her, whether or not she actually felt that way. Both women were in shock, and really didn’t know what to say to one another. Everything had happened so fast. Salina offered her hand. “Come with me,” she said softly. Helping Viola to her feet, she led her away towards the shared basin down the east hall.
“I—” Viola began, watching Salina dip a rag in the dingy, brownish water.
“Shh,” Salina said, wringing out the rag. “I don’t need to hear any explanations. You did what you had to. There is nothing more to say.” With that, she began dabbing the blood away from Viola’s face. She worked in silence, caring for Viola as if she were her own daughter. There would be no judgments this evening. If they were lucky, they might even get some sleep before daybreak.
*
A commotion of clanks and stomps woke Viola. She sat up, surprised she had even fallen asleep in the first place. The combination of mental and physical exhaustion had apparently taken its toll. The bangs and clanks continued, now accompanied by calls for all slaves to rise. Salina sat up in her bed, rubbing her eyes in confusion. “What’s going on?” she asked, trying to get her bearings straight.
“They’ve come for me,” Viola answered with a sigh. “It’s time for my punishment.”
“No. No, it wasn’t your fault. They wouldn’t dare—”
Guards appeared in the doorway, their shadows filling up the room with their ominous presence. “On your feet, slaves,” one of them ordered. Both fingered their weapons as if itching to use them. With an uneasy glance towards each other, the women rolled from their beds. Hands up behind their heads, they walked out into the hall. There were Nald and Kalmton only a few feet away, each getting shoved on by an entourage of armed men. Herded along like cattle, the four of them were led away.
“What’s going on? What happened last tonight?” Nald asked, daring to peek back over his shoulder.
“We’re just glad you two are all right. We were worried,” Kalmton added.
“Quiet!” a guard barked, slapping Kalmton in the back of the head. Viola flinched. This was her fault, after all. She didn’t want to see the guards taking it out on anyone else. Leave him alone. I’m the one you want. Marching down the familiar path, it was clear they were being led out into the pit. In the middle of the night? Viola swallowed, shaking her head. This was not good. Approaching the gate, they could see orange flickers coming from outside, the sort of dancing light that could only be coming from open flames.
When they stepped out onto the sand, the pit looked unrecognizable. Lit torches were thrown about, illuminating the area in rings of fire. But that wasn’t the only thing that caught their eye. King Milo stood at the center of the pit. Clad from head to toe in purple and white furs, he appeared more suited for an elaborate dinner party than standing out here in the middle of the night. They must have sent for him immediately. The incident had only occurred a few hours ago.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, just behind him stood an even more harrowing sight. Gagged, still naked and bound to a cross, Umoro hung by his arms for all to see. His wound had been healed, but that didn’t seem to matter much now. Terrified eyes swept left and right as he groaned into the wet gag. The night air was pleasantly cool, yet his muscular body glistened with sweat.
“Would anyone care to speak?” the king asked. His voice was calm, but his eyes blazed like the torches at his feet. That glare of his could melt stone. “No? Then allow me to speak first. Have I not been fair to you all thus far?” He paused, daring any to object to the rhetorical question. Of course no one spoke out. “Have you not been fed, clothed, and offered a golden opportunity to atone for your crimes? What more could you have possibly asked for?” He rushed up, causing most of them to rock back on their heels. On a normal day the king’s presence
alone could fill up a room. But when he was livid like this, the man was truly intimidating.
“I have much invested here within these walls,” he continued, pacing back and forth before them. “I admit the lives of mere slaves don’t mean all that much to me. That said, you’re totally worthless to me dead. I must do what is necessary to protect my investments. Tonight, that investment has been threatened.” Viola held her breath. “By that slave there!” the king said, pointing back to Umoro. Salina squeezed Viola’s arm assuringly. It appeared the king’s wrath had been directed elsewhere this time.
“So what do I do now?” Milo continued, resting a finger on his bottom lip while mockingly assuming an expression of deep thought. “I’ve tried to be lenient, but it seems that is no longer an option. If I cut him down, will you accept him back into your ranks? Am I to assume that all is forgiven?” Again, he pretended to wait for an answer. Nald and Kalmton still had no idea what he was talking about, but it obviously had something to do with Viola. So far, there were a lot more questions than answers. Milo snapped his fingers as if an idea had just occurred to him. Only a fool couldn’t see through his premeditated actions, but no one was going to say anything.
“Perhaps it is best that one of you should decide his fate,” Milo said, twirling one hand up in the air as if the idea had just come to him. “After all, I do not live among you. Why should I be the one to exact punishment on one of your own?” His cold, calculating gaze shifted towards Viola. “I understand one of you has already been chosen to be your voice in such matters.” He curled a finger, beckoning Viola to come closer.
He stood only ten feet away or so, but the slow, dragging walk felt much further. It was as if he were being inched away from her with each step, drawn back by some unseen puppeteer manipulating a string. When she finally stood before him, the king seemed to loom over her like the shadow of a mountain. “Yes, my king?” she said, nodding while bending at the knees, hands spread wide. She still had not gotten used to the idea of bowing, but this seemed like an appropriate time to make the attempt.
“I know what he tried to do to you this night,” Milo said in a hushed voice, balancing a dagger on the back of his wrist. He rolled it across the backs of his knuckles, his substantial proficiency with the weapon on display. Despite his status and constant protection, the king left little to chance when it came to matters regarding his own life. He was no stranger to weaponry, and had the ability to cross blades with even the finest of his soldiers. Halting the dagger in mid-roll, he pinched its blade between two fingers and extended the hilt end towards Viola. “His life is now yours to do as you wish. It’s not often I make such an offer. Consider it a chance at revenge served to you on a golden platter.” She looked down at the blade, holding it delicately as if it were made of glass.
“I’m not sure what you want me to—” she began.
“Before you decide on the fate of this brute, let me explain the situation more clearly. Your situation. Umoro will die tonight. Whether that is by your hand or by another, his fate has already been sealed. However, if it is not done by your hand, you will appear weak in front of those you are supposed to lead.” Viola spared a glance back, noticing the many curious looks. No doubt this private little talk between her and the king was making everyone nervous.
“And you will also appear weak in front of your king,” he added casually. “He must die because, ultimately, he has assaulted my prized possession. Such a crime cannot go unanswered.
“Look around you, Viola. These faces that have grown so familiar to you are no more than walking ghosts. They are here to serve a temporary purpose. As far as they’re concerned, their job is to absorb teeth, claws, and arrows for the only person who actually counts. I suggest you don’t get too attached to them.”
“What do you mean by that? They’re my friends.”
Milo threw his head back and barked out a laugh. “I’m sure you feel that way. And in a month’s time I imagine you’ll have new friends. Then even more still six months after that. How many friends do you suppose Jarlen watched fall year after year? None of that mattered, and he understood that. Human shields they were, and they served their purpose.
“No one pays me their hard-earned coin to watch humans fight. They can see that in the slums of their own cities. They came to watch that beast in action, to see him do the things no human possibly could. And now...they come to see you. This is your life now, so you better get used to it. Don’t concern yourself with the humans who pass through here year in and year out, only to bleed out on the sand once their purpose has been fulfilled. That’s like worrying about the poor leaves every year. Their inevitable death is unimportant, and certainly not worthy of any compassion.”
He tapped the blade in her hand with two fingers. “Now go, do your king’s bidding and take the credit as well. Let these humans see you take charge of a situation if only to give them false hope. Let them see you take revenge!” Although their conversation was already private, he leaned into her ear and whispered, “Just to be clear, that’s a direct order from your king.”
She caressed the knife in her hand, twisting the handle, its coolness almost feeling wet to the touch. The weight of such an unspeakable order would have crushed her a year ago, even a few months ago. Strange how quickly a person could change when their environment demanded it. She turned away and slowly made her way towards the strung-up warrior. Naked, gagged, hands and feet bound with leather, he began to thrash against his bindings. His pupils shrank down into small specks of black, while the whites of his eyes expanded like saucers.
“Stop moving,” Viola ordered, her voice soft, yet it carried the authority of a general. He did, but the soaked gag pumped in and out of his mouth with each panicked breath. Terror rolled off him in waves, so powerful that it was like an energy she could actually feel. Her red-eyed gaze drifted down his glistening body. Holding the knife in one hand, she slid the other up the inside of his thigh. Her cool fingers slipped along the perspiration before moving up between his legs. Umoro gasped, closing his eyes as he threw his head back against the post.
“Please don’t!” he mumbled through his gag, trembling so hard his cheeks began fluttering.
“I like it when you beg,” she whispered, her fingers firmly massaging his sack. “Such a desperate tactic you humans employ when all appears lost. I wonder, what if I had begged you to stop when you tried to force yourself on me? Would it have made any difference? Does that ever work?”
“Please! Please, you don’t have to do this,” he cried, tears streaming down both cheeks. He began to weep openly.
“Oh, but I do,” she said, even offering a reassuring smile. “Those were the king’s orders, but I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Her smile deepened. “I think it’s only fair to tell you, I was going to do it anyway.” She pulled him tight while lifting the blade. After the first deep slice, his member slackened in her hand, but some stubborn skin still kept it attached to the screaming man’s body. It took three more slices before it came free.
His screams sounded distant in her ears, like wind blowing through a valley. There was so much blood she could actually hear the endless trickle smacking the sand beneath him. It sounded like water draining off a rooftop during a heavy rain. She turned away and walked back towards the king.
Arms crossed, Milo looked down at her with pride. “He will bleed to death within the hour,” she said, her voice cold and uncaring. She glanced down, as if just now remembering her hands were still full. She dropped the knife at the king’s feet and tossed the bloody lump of flesh a few feet away. “I have training in the morning,” she said, giving a slight bow, spreading her blood-covered hands out wide. “May I take my leave?”
“Of course you may,” said Milo, rubbing her shoulder fondly. “Sleep well, my dear. You’ve earned it.” She turned and made her way back towards the gated tunnel. None of it felt real. The others parted as she walked between them, allowing her to pass. They too didn’t seem real any
more. Kalmton was bent over throwing up, but she didn’t want to look at him. Salina was yelling something right in her face as she passed, but all the sound was drowned out. Like standing near the ocean, all she heard was the hollow sounds of breaking water echoing through her head. None of it felt real.
*
Morning came soon enough and it was time to get ready for another hard day. The four remaining combatants sat around the table, eating in awkward silence. The occasional wandering eye flickered towards Umoro’s empty seat before dropping back down into a bowl of cold porridge. They knew what they had seen, but refused to accept it.
“That’s enough stuffing your faces!” called Ozryn from down the hall. “Get out here and fall in line.” Shoving half-full bowls to the center of the table, everyone stood and made their way out towards the pit. Ozryn gave each one their own personalized sneer as they passed him. But when Viola tried to pass, he stabbed her chest with a stout finger. “Not you,” he growled, pointing back the way she’d come . “You know where you’re going. Now move it!”
Wilting with the order she’d come to dread each day, she turned away and proceeded back down the hall. Her feet dragged, each step heavier than the last. But even at her impossibly slow pace, she found herself standing outside the dreaded chamber after what felt like only a few seconds. She could see both Kuuma and Diovok waiting inside. With a slow hand, Diovok summoned her in.
Head drooping, she dragged herself through the doorway and kneeled before the familiar bench she had seen so many times before. Dropping to her knees, she recalled an old phrase muttered often by humans. It’s amazing what you can get used to. For a long time she didn’t understand what that was supposed to mean. Now, its meaning seemed so obvious it made her want to laugh.
The first time she had undergone this procedure, she truly believed her heart might stop. It was the most hellish experience of her life. So much pain at once was not a thing any living being was ever meant to endure. But whether it was just some defensive trick of the mind or an evolutionary survival instinct her body did on its own, she had learned to cope with these training sessions.
