Minotaur: Blooded (The Bestial Tribe)

by Naomi Lucas

“Run!” the monster hissed.

  She surged forward—bolting without thought—her limbs flailing and catching on shrubs. Her entire body created an explosion of noise that served as a beacon for those searching for her.

  “Stop right there!” the guard bellowed.

  Getting her bearings, she shot through the treeline and onto the path, her feet springing as if she ran across fire. The thudding and pounding of heavy footfalls trailed behind her. He was gaining. And the threats that tore from her pursuer’s throat grew closer by the second. The clink of his chain mail was directly behind her.

  Her heart raced. She couldn’t let him catch her. She dove off the path and back into the trees, this time on the opposite side of the labyrinth and toward Ledger.

  I can’t go back there! She immediately changed direction. I can’t damn them. The thought of her family suffering because of her actions terrified her more than being caught. Leaves slapped her face and sticks abraded her skin. The guard continued to bellow, closing in.

  “You’re under arrest! Once I get my hands on you... Thetras and Savadon will have you!”

  A hand came down hard on her shoulder and Aldora swiveled and lowered under its weight. She dodged to the right and ducked her head, keeping one foot in front of the other, but fingers caught in her hair, ripping a lock out. Staggered, she cried out and twisted from the man’s grasp, dropping her weapon. She tripped and fell, her knees slamming into the ground as her hand came up to clutch her scalp.

  Pain strummed across her scalp.

  The man growled as he slammed into her, pressing her into the dead and slimy leaves. Air expelled forcibly from her lungs from his weight. It stunned her briefly but not long enough to give him complete advantage of her. She pushed at the ground and tried to squirm away. He grabbed her braids and snapped her head back.

  “It’s over you fucking cunt!”

  “No!” she shrieked, reaching for her dagger. Her vision swam with stars.

  The guard lifted up and forced his knee into her back, his weight locking her in place. “Yes, miscreant whore. I knew something wasn’t right about you when you denied my escort. And to find you at the wall... talking.” He spat on the back of her head.

  Tears flooded her eyes. Aldora tilted her face, trying to get a look at the shadowy figure above her. Silvery threads of moonlight filtered through the leaves as she heaved, searching. “Laslite,” she gasped. She couldn’t see his face but the excess fabric of his uniform piling over the tops of his boots had their color.

  He grabbed her hand that had been moving over toward her dagger and wrenched it behind her. She shrieked when another wave of shooting pain burst through her arm. The Laslite gripped the other next and tied them with cord.

  “Savadon has no need or use for briar witches,” he snarled and jerked the rope binding her wrists, uncaring of strength upon her. She was forced to her feet, screaming. Her arms were stretched behind her and her vision darkened.

  “I’m not a witch—” she stammered as quickly as possible.

  “Who were you talking to then? A lover? I see no one else. A ghost? That wouldn’t help your case.” He spun her around to face him, clutching her neck. “Yourself? It matters not. The kingdom can’t have its first line of defense playing at treason, even a lowly freeman. If you represent a hole in the kingdom’s defenses it is my duty to fill that hole with your corpse.”

  “I’m innocent! I heard children playing...”

  The Laslite’s grip on her neck tightened. He stared down at her with contempt as she fought his hold. The rope broke through the skin of her wrists. Air was just out of reach and his hand only tightened further.

  “Plea...se...” Aldora wheezed. “I can’t...”

  The patroller released her and she collapsed, hacking up bile and coughing violently. Her muscles seized.

  “I don’t believe you, you cunt.” He pushed her over with his boot. “But you’re a pretty one. A girl who moves that much while being strangled must fight like a wildcat being fucked.”

  Apprehension knocked the breath right back out of her as his threat filled her head with terrible ideas.

  I have to get away. Coughing, she searched for an escape.

  The Laslite continued with disdain, “Unfortunately, I can’t pass judgment on you alone.” The anger in his voice was thick. “Not within Thetras’s domain. But those who can are still awake.” He crouched and Aldora slowly looked his way. She didn’t want to meet his eyes but forced herself to do so, even if she was met with nothing but cruelty.

  “I did nothing wrong,” she begged.

  She’d only been curious about the voice on the other side. The allure of it, and the memory—its deep and melodic threads that had writhed its way into her ears—was replaced with the Laslite’s sour breath hitting her nose, filling her with dreadful reality.

  Chapter Two

  ***

  “...why not breach the barrier and test the limits of your courage?” Vedikus taunted, lowering his voice.

  “I won’t be tricked by you.”

  Oh, female, but you already have.

  Tricked. Lured. Brought forth to the flame, the unknown. A human. He had not expected a human, let alone a female to hear him say his rites. But now that it had happened and that the fortune of the gray moon looked down upon him, he knew what all his training had been for.

  Only the strongest prowled the labyrinth barrier. Only the best hunted for the sacrifices that the humans made. His muscles rippled as sacred blood coursed through his veins.

  Vedikus gripped his battle axe and drew it from its sheath. The goblin corpse at his feet, broken from where he wrung its neck and shattered its back, stared up at him with watchful, dead eyes. It had been a scout, or a desperate male looking to start his own pack. It wasn’t part of a tribe.

  Otherwise, he’d still be locked in battle, fighting off a swarm of them.

  Vedikus shook his head and grasped the thick, impenetrable hedge where the human female’s voice emanated from. If he wasn’t careful, another barrier lurker like himself would get the jump on him and would hear her voice as well.

  A call would go out.

  He could not let that happen.

  She is mine to hunt. His nostrils flared.

  No one spoke to the humans on the other side unless it was a witch or a warlock, and those who knew of one guarded their secrets to their grave. Was the female on the other side one? Was she toying with him as if he were a calf? He snorted, and steam released from his nostrils.

  The female knows nothing about me. Without looking down, he stepped onto the goblin’s head and crushed it beneath his hoof.

  He licked his lips, tasting the salt of his sweat bloom on his tongue, and pressed closer to the wall. The mist that surrounded him stung his hand where he touched the barrier, repelling him. Vedikus crushed the vines in his fist and groaned as the pain flowed through him. He...liked pain, almost enjoyed it. It reminded him that he was still alive.

  It helped stop his body from overreacting.

  I need her to cross.

  She was mere feet away, and the only thing that separated them was the hedge and its magic. There was nothing in the labyrinth that could stop him from capturing her...but this.

  Another bout of steam released from his nose as he looked up the wall until it disappeared into the haze. The vines above danced around, in and out of his sight.

  Vedikus sneered, wishing his brother, Astegur, was with him if only for his ingenuity. But as soon as he wished it, he burned the thought away.

  Astegur would want her too; he’d fight me for the rights to her. He would not fight his bull brothers if that happened, but he would very much consider it.

  They shared females like they shared battle opponents: with bloodthirsty competition, using everything in their arsenal. It mattered not because regardless of who the female was or how pretty her voice, his clan—his brothers—needed her. There were two reasons to scout the dangerous labyrinth walls—to captur
e the humans that entered and to test your strength against a myriad of opponents.

  He was here for the latter with only the possibility of a capture but the likelihood was small, not with hundreds of other mist creatures all out for the same thing. At least that’s what he told himself.

  His brothers, on the other hand, wouldn’t deny the fact that they sought human females. They fought for it, every day, honing their skills, driving their willpower hard and their muscles harder to build the stamina and endurance needed for the sacrificial zones. He tensed his body and felt the power he held ignite.

  There was no greater prize than a pureblood human, but he was here to hone his skills and scout the lands, not to seek out and capture a female. I have not come prepared.

  He would not let that stop him.

  Delicious licks of cloudy heat poured from his body as he focused hard on the spot where the female was just beyond.

  Vedikus lowered his axe back into its sheath and took a step back, looking for a means, or a small opening where he could lure her close enough to grab. I cannot deny the needs of my clan. Not with such an obscurely lucky opportunity.

  One finger, one strand of hair on my side and I can pull her through the thick brush.

  “Who’s there!?” A new voice filled the space.

  Vedikus froze, his hand dropping back to his axe’s handle. The thick corded muscles of his arms rippled, ready for another bout of battle. He swiveled to locate the direction where the voice had come from but he did not sense another goblin or creature nearby, only the female’s presence and the sounds of crushed leaves and twigs breaking.

  “I heard you, lass! Come out now or pay the price!”

  It’s coming from the human world. He moved back toward the wall and pressed as close to her as possible. Sharp, excruciating waves of pain attacked him and the hedge sprouted thorns to stab through his exposed skin, filling him with viler poison.

  I need to grab her. Now! He couldn’t lose her, not after the moon had handed him this opportunity. He would not go back to his brothers without her after she had been offered. It would be too cruel. The shame... consuming.

  The female’s fear finally reached his nose and he realized he did not like the smell of it as much as he thought he would. Vedikus grimaced and strained his hand outward through the thick vines and even thicker magic. She’s right there! A little more and he could tear her through.

  This new man could not have her.

  Try as he might, he couldn’t pierce it. He drew his hand back, so filled with rage—resentment for the intruder—that he did the one thing he didn’t want to do.

  “If you do not want to be caught, female, then I suggest you run,” he growled, warning her away. Vedikus fought his instincts. “Run!”

  A series of noises filled his ears as his words took effect.

  Vedikus dropped his hands onto his weapons, clenching their handles as he listened to her flee, listened to the man pursue her. His prick was hard and in the process of lubricating itself for an impossibility. A chase and catch he had no part of.

  The female fled from him, from another, and was in danger in the one place he could not go after her. He slammed his fist into the hedge wall and was shot away. Burning magic filled his veins. Hatred coursed with it, spreading through his body, urging him to berserk, urging him to roar and give his location away. But he kept his mouth shut and listened to whatever he could on the other side until no sound came at all.

  Minutes went by. Steam trailed out not only from his nose but also his mouth to release the buildup inside. When his body cooled, only determination remained.

  His opportunity had passed but there would be another.

  If she’s caught... Vedikus hated the idea of anyone other than himself giving chase, but if she was caught, she’d become a sacrifice. Hope alighted his blood.

  He waited another few minutes, keeping his ears to the barrier, but there was no sound other than the wilderness to be heard.

  The shrouded moon was full overhead and her smell was gone before he left the small glen behind, heading in the direction of the nearest sacrificial juncture: Thetras.

  It would be crawling with barrier lurkers but he was ready to spill blood. If the female was to be thrown to the monsters, to him, it would be there.

  He hated hope, had never believed a warrior should have it because a warrior should either know his outcome and believe in it, or fail; but as he quietly crept toward his destination, the slimy emotion whittled through his skull. Hope was an enchantment as lucrative and lying as the sun in his world.

  I won’t let the Bathyr down.

  Anticipation fueled him.

  Chapter Three

  ***

  Tiny rivulets of blood leaked from her wrists and down the backs of her hands. It didn’t stop her from pulling at the rope that bound them, though. She had no other option if she wanted a future. A little pain now could save her a lot of pain later.

  Aldora dragged her feet as the Laslite hauled her by her arm. They stopped briefly at the spot where she had been discovered and picked up her bag.

  Silence was heavy between them as he tied her to a branch and crouched to shuffle through her stuff. A couple of her mother’s apples spilled out and onto the ground.

  A bruised apple was a bad apple according to her parents, and it saddened her to see them handled so poorly.

  It wasn’t her privacy being invaded that kept her lips shut, but the possibility that the beast might still be there, waiting, listening; that he would speak again and damn her so completely that she’d have no recourse to talk her way out of this nightmare. Because that was what this was: a nightmare. One she and every other citizen of Savadon had at some point growing into adulthood. Savadon didn’t build dungeons to house criminals. Savadon had a maze.

  The monster didn’t speak again and she was at once grateful and wistful. Despite her circumstances, her curiosity was piqued, and a beaconing tendril of dark adventure tempted her. Aldora wanted to hear the beast’s voice again, wanted to feel its deep tonal heat enthrall her. The rumbling cadence of its words penetrated all the way to her bones.

  It was wrong—deceptive—but achingly haunting. All she had were stories and a scattering of illustrations of what lay beyond the misty wall, and she wanted more.

  He spoke my tongue. Her eyes narrowed to look at the looming treeline and vines, cast in monotonous shades of shadow and darkness. How did he know my language if he isn’t human? If all humans died crossing the barrier? She ducked her head to rub it along her shoulder, removing the tangled hair from her face.

  Not all humans died, Aldora corrected herself. Some made it back out alive. However, those that did were tainted and shunned by society. They were banished to the worst parts of Savadon, the deep swamps, the craggy shores, the mines. That’s if they didn’t go back into the mists. She’d never seen one of these survivors but was told she would know it if she did.

  They came back marked.

  The Laslite hefted her satchel over his shoulder with a snort of disgust and untied her from the tree.

  “You must have offered up your demonic wares, your bat wings, and will-o-wisps, before I caught you, witch,” he spat. Spittle hit her collarbone and dribbled down into her tunic. “It matters not, the masters will see through you.” He threw her forward and back onto the path. Her knees hit the ground and she cringed from the blunt impact. A moment later she was hauled back to her feet.

  “I’m not a witch,” she tried to say calmly but it came out shallow and shaky. Her fear hadn’t abated, if anything, it had gotten worse. Sweat beaded her brow and under her arms. It mattered not that the night air was chilly, she felt nothing but anxious waves of heat.

  “Lies, pretty peasant.” They headed for the lights.

  “I’m not...”

  “You were speaking to something in the labyrinth. Only witches commune with the darkness and dirty freeman that can’t tell a horse from a rock. Either way, Savadon, the last bast
ion of humanity, has no use for either. If you were smart, you should have wed and stayed out of sight. You know what happens to the idiots of the kingdom?”

  Aldora remained silent.

  “They’re gotten rid of. Or...” The man stopped to look at her from head to toe, taking a moment to encroach her space and palm her breast. “Or pretty ones like you spread their thighs and learn to like it.”

  She tried to wrench back but his hold on her tightened. She buckled and screeched, kicking her legs back in hopes of landing a blow to his knees but the thick leather of his boots shielded it all. The Laslite chuckled and wrested her around to hold her from behind, his armored chest pressed heavy against her back. He groped her harder, keeping her in place with one arm banded around her midsection while moving his other down to cup her sex.

  She froze from shock until he pressed his erection into her back. Aldora wrenched away from him and he let her go. She didn’t even make it a yard before the Laslite took hold of her again and continued walking, a jolly, whistled tune on his lips.

  If he was trying to break whatever last threads of courage she had left, he was doing a good job of it. The pinch of his grip on her arm made her sick with apprehension, but try as she might, the rope binding her wrists remained excruciatingly tight.

  It wasn’t until they came upon the first house that she realized they were in Thetras. The lanterns lighted the path far sooner than she would’ve liked.

  Her gaze darted everywhere at once, hopeful in finding a friend, or someone who did business with her family. They would come to her defense—she hoped. It would be nothing but the power-hungry Laslite’s word against hers. The Laslite didn’t live here, they traveled the kingdom, watchful wanderers, and judges that spoke on behalf of the capital. The odds were against her, but it didn’t stop her from hoping.

  It was only those who had become “true sacrifices” that no one stood up for.

  It was late at night, and no one she knew was out at this time. Those they passed only looked upon her with open curiosity. The same kind of curiosity that led her into this predicament to begin with.