Chained

by Evangeline Anderson

  Maggie began to feel sick. “What? Explain.”

  “Back when they were first exploring Yonnie Five, one of the explorers made the mistake of trying to actually use the thing as a Pillow—it looked so comfy and apparently he was sleepy. Or just stupid.”

  “What happened?” Maggie asked.

  “The thing ate his head—or tried to. It secretes a strong acid that dissolves the flesh of its prey in no time. Lucky for him, he only got some bad burns on his face.”

  “So it’s like a venus fly trap?”

  “A what?”

  “A plant indigenous to Earth. It traps small insects and digests them over a period of time. I never heard of any of them big enough to digest a human head, though.” Maggie shivered.

  “Then you want to stay off Yonnie Five. The Pillow Plant isn’t the only thing that will eat your head—and all the rest of you.”

  “So how did people start eating the Pillow Plant?” Maggie wanted to know.

  “Apparently in the struggle to get free of it, the guy who decided to use it as a pillow broke through its outer skin and got some in his mouth.” Kor made a face. “He decided it was delicious and they’ve been harvesting them to eat ever since.”

  “It’s…skin? You mean the crust?” Maggie poked at the crispy, flaky shell that covered the custard and jelly insides.

  “No crust about it—that’s its skin,” Kor said. “And the pink jelly is the Pillow Plant’s congealed blood. Oh, and I’m pretty sure that yellowish cream is the exploded intestines. They harvest it and let it ripen for a while for maximum flavor—which means it’s already pretty decomposed by the time you eat it.”

  “What? Ugh!” Suddenly the half eaten slice of Pillow Plant on her plate didn’t look nearly as appetizing. In fact, looking down at the runny, oozing mass of bright pink and yellowish white made her feel vaguely nauseous. “But it’s a plant,” she protested weakly. “How can it have intestines and blood?”

  “It’s grown on a plant,” Kor corrected. “But the fruit itself is more of an animal. It’s actually a really interesting creature.”

  “Half plant, half animal?” Maggie’s mind began churning almost as much as her stomach. “That’s fascinating! The biological implications alone…If I could just study one in the wild…”

  “Good luck with that,” Kor growled. “They’ve been practically wiped out—harvested by rich mistresses looking for a decadent dessert that won’t make them gain weight.”

  “Oh,” Maggie said in a small voice. “And I’m just as bad as any of them. I was just saying about eating a fruit that tasted like Krispy Kreme…”

  Kor surprised her by laughing. “Don’t worry about it, blondie—I’m not judging you. Just thought you might want to avoid eating something that amounts to dead, decomposed carnivore guts.”

  “Well, you’re right about that.” No matter how good it tasted, Maggie wasn’t interested in slurping up any more congealed blood and exploded intestines. Sighing, she put the plate down on a nearby pedestal. “I guess I’ll just have to wait until I get back home and get some real Krispy Kreme. I just—”

  “Attention, ladies!” rang out the high, birdlike voice of the master of the spa. “Now that you have all indulged in our decadent little dessert, we would like to invite you to take a midnight swim in the Remembrance Pool.”

  “Oh, dear…” Maggie turned to Kor. “What are we going to do? Are the scratches on my back healed enough to go in, do you think?” She really didn’t want to get in the strange red water at all but now that she’d eaten the expensive Pillow Fruit, she didn’t know if she could refuse.

  “Let me see.” Kor turned her around gently and brushed her hair aside to examine her back. Maggie shivered when she felt his warm hands on her shoulders…and his even warmer breath against her bare back. God, why did she react this way every time he touched her? Why did her heart beat so hard just from having him close?

  “Well?” she asked anxiously.

  “I don’t think you should go all the way in,” he murmured. “You could dip your toes in the water but full submersion with these open cuts is a bad idea.”

  “Why?” Maggie asked. “Is the water contaminated in some way?” Looking at the blood red deep end, she could well imagine that it was.

  Kor frowned. “Not contaminated exactly. But the water in the Remembrance Pool isn’t really water at all. It’s a chemical agent that brings buried memories to the surface. At the shallow end, the memories are light—just pleasant moments or days that may have slipped your mind. As you get deeper into the pool, the more submerged memories begin to emerge.”

  “And let me guess,” Maggie said. “Having all those memories causes strong emotions…”

  “Which the Sensorians feed on.” Kor nodded.

  “All right,” Maggie decided. “I don’t think I can refuse completely but maybe I could go wading in the shallow end.”

  “That should be all right—just don’t get the waters of Remembrance in these cuts.” He traced gently around the long, shallow scratches again, making Maggie shiver. “Getting the chemicals of this pool into your bloodstream is a bad idea—you don’t want to get stuck in a memory you can’t find your way out of.”

  “I’ll be careful—but what about you? Some of the other mistresses seem to be having their slaves get in with them.” Maggie nodded at the shallow end of the large pool where several of the ladies in her rondula were splashing and playing in the pale pink water with their slaves. Mistress Gin'gin and her slave, in particular, seemed to be having a good time. “Should we, uh, go in together?” she asked Kor.

  “No,” he said shortly. “I’m not getting in.”

  “What?” Maggie frowned. “But I thought you said the shallow end just brought up happy memories. Why don’t you—”

  “I was raised a slave and trained to be a killer,” Kor said brusquely. “I don’t have a whole hell of a lot of happy memories, Maggie. Some things…” A shutter went through his big frame. “Some things are better left forgotten.”

  “Oh,” Maggie said softly. He looked so upset she wished she could comfort him in some way. “I’m sorry, Kor…” She turned to him and put a hand on his muscular bicep. “I didn’t think.”

  “It’s all right.” He covered her hand with his own, much larger one. “I’ll be fine. And as long as you stay out of the deep end, you should too.”

  “I wouldn’t go in even if I didn’t have the scratches,” Maggie said. “I’m not exactly the best swimmer—I’m not much good at anything athletic.”

  “Unless there was an athletic event for tripping in ridiculously high heels.” One corner of his mouth went up, taking the sting out of his teasing words.

  “Stop it.” Maggie slapped at his chest playfully, glad he seemed to be shaking off his gloomy mood. “You should try walking in these things and see how well you do.”

  “I’d rather watch you in them,” he murmured. “Why do you think I don’t mind walking behind you, pretending to be your slave? Those things might be a health hazard but the way they make your hips sway is damn sexy.”

  The sudden heat in his eyes made Maggie look hurriedly away, heart pounding.

  “Oh—I think the master of the spa is calling me,” she said, a bit breathlessly.

  The Sensorian was indeed, waving her over.

  “You go and have fun,” Kor said softly. “Just be careful, blondie.”

  “I will.” Maggie smiled at him. “And you stay dry.”

  He nodded gravely. “I sure as hell will. Don’t worry about that.”

  Maggie nodded and turned away.

  * * * * *

  “No, no, no!” Xandra hissed, glaring into the surface of her cauldron. “He must get in—must submerge himself for the seed to be planted!”

  “Problems?” A pair of glowing red eyes rose to the surface and stared at her.

  “It’s Therron—he refuses to get into the Remembrance Pool!” Xandra was thoroughly frustrated. “And after I took so muc
h trouble with my spell to influence that Sensorian fool to get him there in the first place. It’s maddening!”

  The eyes glowed brighter. “Something must be done. I have not planned so carefully and worked so hard to get the male ready for nothing.”

  “Well, what am I to do? My influence only extends so far—working magic from light years away is difficult.” Xandra frowned.

  “Is the Remembrance Pool really a necessity? After the life he has lived—the pains and agonies I have ensured were inflicted upon him and especially after all the kills he has made—he ought to be thoroughly corrupted and ripe for invasion by now.”

  “Well, he’s not,” Xandra snapped. “And you know you cannot inhabit a being that is not willfully evil.”

  “True…” The eyes glowed thoughtfully. “Well, if he will not get into the pool himself he must be forced in.”

  “Don’t you think I thought of that? But how?” Xandra demanded. “Therron is not yet ripe for invasion and until the seed is planted my magic cannot influence him—only those around him.”

  “Those around him…” The glowing eyes blinked. “That is the answer. The girl with him—the one who named and claimed him—is she—?”

  “That softhearted little wretch?” Xandra spat on the floor of her hovel. “Not a chance. She barely let Therron touch her during the banquet and yet her mind is a turmoil of guilt.” She frowned. “I must find a way to separate her from Therron—she is a bad influence on him. Or rather, a good one. He cares for her too much to allow himself to turn dark.”

  “Perhaps there is an answer to both our problems. If Therron cannot be invaded and the girl with him is also a closed vessel, another must be found.”

  “There is one whose mind and heart are evil,” Xandra said thoughtfully. “She feels nothing but jealousy and spite and hatred—the perfect vessel. But she is certainly not strong enough to force Therron into the waters of Remembrance.”

  The red eyes were half lidded with evil amusement. “And who said it was Therron who must be forced in?”

  * * * * *

  Maggie turned away, heading for the shallow end of the pool. But she hadn’t gone two steps before Lady Ponce’beast suddenly appeared at her side. She looked strange somehow—her eyes were wild with a reddish tinge and her wig was twisted around until it was nearly backwards. Her slave was trailing behind her with a worried expression on his face.

  “Mistress?” he said. “Mistress, I really think—”

  “Nola Pope’nose,” Lady Ponce’beast snarled, glaring at Maggie. “How are you, my dear? Did you enjoy the Pillow Fruit?”

  “Lady Ponce’beast,” Maggie exclaimed, turning to face the other woman. “Yes, I did. I’ve never tasted it before and it’s really quite—”

  “Taste this, you little bitch!” Lady Ponce’beast shouted. With a stiff, jerky movement—almost as though her body was being controlled by someone else—she lunged forward and shoved Maggie into the deep end of the Remembrance Pool.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It happened before Kor could stop it. The crazy bitch pushed Maggie into the Remembrance Pool and then laughed maniacally—a strange, ugly sound that seemed to be too deep to come from a female’s vocal chords.

  Kor didn’t stop to think twice. As the blood red waters closed over Maggie’s head, he dived in to save her. Bad memories or not, he couldn’t let her drown. Couldn’t let her—

  “Deeper! Thrust the spear in deeper—pierce his heart!”

  Kor looked around wildly—the voice belonged to his old master. Where was he? And what was he saying?

  Suddenly he was in a large private sparring chamber which had been made up to resemble an arena. There was a spectator box at one end and plenty of weapons hanging on the walls. There was even sand on the floor to soak up spilled blood. Sitting in the box were several rich patrons—as well as his old master.

  “Harder!” his old master insisted, the light of greed growing in his small, piggy eyes. “Our young patron has decided that your opponent must die. Finish him, Korexiroth!”

  Kor looked down and saw that the point of his spear was penetrating another male’s chest. No—not just another male. It was his dearest friend in the world—it was Lairtez. The one who had stood by him time and again and saved his life in the arena more times than he could count.

  It all came back to Kor now. They were fighting a private exhibition—a manhood gift from one of their richest patrons to his son. It was supposed to be a harmless show—a mock battle in which Kor brought his opponent to his knees as only The Demon could. They had performed in this way countless times but this time things had gone wrong…terribly wrong. The patron’s son had called for death instead of leniency. It wasn’t part of the performance but apparently Kor’s master had been offered enough credit to make the loss of a valued fighter more than worth his while.

  “Lairtez,” Kor gasped, his own voice sounding choked in his ears. “I cannot—”

  “You must.” Blood seeped from the other male’s mouth, trickling down his chin. His eyes were glazed but his voice was firm. “If you don’t, Master will have us both killed.”

  Kor looked up and saw the light of anger growing in his master’s eyes.

  “Why do you hesitate, Korexiroth?” he demanded. “Finish him! The patrons pay good credit to see blood—do as you’re told.”

  Kor felt sick. He and Lairtez had been thrust into the area together at an early age—too young, really to be trained. They would have been killed if they hadn’t banded together. As they trained and grew into their new roles as fighters in the Blood Circuit, they had protected each other. Kor knew that no matter what else happened, Lairtez always had his back. And now he would be forced to kill him, on the whim of a bloodthirsty patron who cared only for the spectacle of death.

  “No,” he croaked. “I cannot.”

  “You must. I’m dead already. No sense…” Lairtez choked, bringing up more blood. “No sense in us both dying, Brother.”

  His master came out of the box, striding over the blood soaked sand with a grim scowl on his face.

  “Do it, slave,” he snapped. “Finish him or you both die.”

  “I—” Kor never got to finish his words. With a groan, Lairtez threw himself forward, using the weight of his large body to drive the spear point deeper into his chest. More blood gushed out, wetting the sand. In the private box, the patrons cheered.

  “Good. It’s done.” The master dusted his hands together and glared at Kor. “You were much too slow to obey orders, Korexiroth. I’ll see to you later.”

  “Not if I see to your first.” Kor’s eyes got hot and a red veil dropped over his vision as he reached for his master’s throat. Distantly, he heard the young patron crowing—“The Demon! Look at his eyes—they’re glowing! The Demon is finally showing his colors! He’s—”

  …too big to hold off. Too strong. Kor felt a rush of sick fear. A huge male he recognized as Taurex—the prize fighter of his master’s stable— came lumbering after him.

  Kor looked down at himself. He was younger now—much younger than when he’d been forced to kill his friend and had subsequently murdered his master as well. In fact, he had just started fighting in the arena a few days before. His record wasn’t good—the worst in the stable. Which was why he had been given to Taurex as fresh meat.

  “Best submit, boy,” someone called through the bars of the cage. “You might be faster than old Taurex but he’s stronger and a hell of a lot more persistent. Give in now and he might not tear you up too bad.”

  Taurex lunged for him again and Kor danced nimbly out of the way. His younger self was just beginning to develop the muscles that would turn him into a fearsome warrior later in life. But he was nowhere near big enough to fight off the older male’s huge bulk.

  With a feint to the right, Taurex suddenly cornered him against the thick wooden table. He grabbed Kor by the shoulders and spun him around, pushing him down so that his face was smashed against the scarred woo
d. Rough hands fumbled for the waistband of his breeches and ripped them down. Something hard and hot thrust into him, penetrating him, tearing him open…

  “No!” The cry came from deep inside him and Kor felt the rage overtake him again. His eyes were hot and his vision was suddenly blood red. Reaching down, he grabbed one of the table’s legs and wrenched it as hard as he could.

  There was a deep crrrackkk! and the table lurched to one side. Kor looked down and saw that he was holding a thick piece of wood. A club with one jagged, splintered end.

  The motion of the table had caused Taurex to lose his hold. He staggered and Kor managed to get away, though the sudden separation felt as though he was ripping his insides out. Ignoring the pain he turned on the older male, holding the makeshift club in his hand.

  “You, boy!” Taurex roared, lunging for him again. “Come here! Wasn’t finished with you yet.”

  “You never will be.” With all his might, Kor jabbed the jagged wooden shard deep into the other male’s eye. It popped with a wet, viscous sound and suddenly whitish red jelly was running down Taurex’s scarred cheek. He bellowed and staggered backwards and Kor felt a ferocious surge of joy. With a hoarse shout, he surged forward, driving the stake deeper into the other male’s brain, not stopping until he felt the sharp wooden end scrape the back of Taurex’s skull.

  Bastard will never bother me again, he thought, looking at the dazed faces of the other slaves who had crowded around the locked cell to watch the show. None of them will. None of them will ever…

  “…see you again? Never?”

  “I’m afraid not, my darling.” The soft voice belonged to Niomie—the female slave who had raised Kor for as long as he could remember. Her big eyes were wet with tears and there were restraints around her wrists. She was being sold.

  “But Mother—”

  “I told you, sweetheart,” she said gently. “I’m not your mother. Not really.”