Slave in the City of Dragons (Dinosaurs and Gladiators Book 1)

by Angela Angelwolf

“I would survive,” the black woman said. “That’s why Kro’tos will never pick me. My insides are stretched by childbirth, and they are as tough as I am.

  ”And I,” she said through her tears, “I am tough enough that I might grow teeth down there and chew that monster’s faroos right off.”

  “Hush,” said another, the pale woman with dark features. “You’ll get us all in trouble.”

  They needn’t have worried. The saurians were too preoccupied to worry about the chattering of slaves. With both the leatherback and the woman gone, the crowd surged forward to the altar. They daubed their fingers in the mix of blood, seed and other bodily fluids pooling on the altar. This ghastly mixture they rubbed on their faces.

  “I swear, Tulweeni,” the black woman said though her tears. “By the Great Mother, I will see you avenged.”

  The king led the mob in the rush to the sacrificial altar. Tol’zen remained on his chair, as did Kro’brin, as did the female in emerald. The two saurian males eyed each other suspiciously.

  For her part, the queen looked bored – or as bored as one can be after a slave is humped and crushed to death – and she called to one of her slaves to refill her cup.

  The gathering broke up into knots of celebration and hoo-hahing with an ugly undercurrent of viciousness.

  Fear, revulsion and exhaustion wrestled for control of Pashera’s mind. She felt totally exposed strapped as she was, helpless, to the bars of the cage. The events of the last murderous hour whirled in her head.

  And then, like a thunderbolt, she had a thought.

  It occurred to her how she might regain her freedom.

  Indeed, how she might free all the humans held here in bondage.

  And how she might avenge all the human that must have suffered the same fate as Tulweeni.

  And how she might wipe this loathsome race, this Remnant of monsters lost to time, from the face of the Earth.

  “Why are you smiling?” the black woman asked her suspiciously.

  “Do you want revenge?” Pashera asked.

  “Yes,” the other woman croaked.

  “Do you want freedom?”

  “Yes,” said the black woman, and several of the other women nearer joined her.

  “Do you want to push these cruel masters of yours face-first into the fires of hell?”

  Now the rest of the women were looking at her.

  “Yes!” came their voices.

  “I have a plan,” Pashera said.

  “Tell us!” the black woman said.

  “First, tell me your names. You know mine. I am Pashera, from the Long Spear Tribe.”

  “I am Amaz,” the black woman said. “I am from the Great Zimbwe tribe, far to the south.

  “I am Tenrici,” said the pale woman with dark features. “I am from the west, by the shores of the inland sea. Tell us your plan.”

  “I am Hair Like Sunset,” said the red-haired woman. “That is my true name. But the masters call me Rylo. I am from the Yellow Knife tribe, far to the North. I want to hear your plan, too.”

  Before the other women could introduce themselves, Tol’zen appeared by the cage. Ignoring the other human slaves, he opened the door and quickly freed Pashera from her bonds. He led her away as the other women stared holes in her back.

  Pashera clung to Tol’zen defensively. In this place of horrors, she was beginning to see him as her savior.

  But he was also crucial to her plan.

  They left the great room. Soon, Tol’zen led her through one hallway after another. Some of the hallways were thick with dust. Pashera suspected Tol’zen was taking her through little-used shortcuts as he was eager to get as far away from that room as possible.

  “That was ugly,” she ventured, when finally she dared speak.

  “It is a horror,” he said flatly. “It is an abomination of everything the Remnant stands for, if we stand for anything anymore.”

  They walked in silence for a while.

  “It started,” he said finally, “as a way to honor our ancestors. You see, long ago when our own race was emerging from the jungle, the world was ruled by a race we call the Arkheins. They raised us up out of the mud … but only to make slaves of us. Some of us served them willingly. But most did it only because of the yolk and the lash.

  “And when our ancestors got smart enough, they made their bid for freedom.”

  Pashera thought she knew how those saurians of old felt.

  “The first rebellion was crushed,” Tol’zen said. “Many of my ancestors were killed. Others were thrown back deep into the jungle.

  “The Cydars walked with us then, and talked with us. You call the Cydars three-horned beasts, though calling them beasts is an insult that you can’t understand.

  “Anyway, the Cydars came up with a plan.”

  “The three-horns – the Cydars -- talked?” Pashera interrupted. “But they are beasts.”

  “They are more than humans will ever be,” Tol’zen said harshly. “Now don’t interrupt.”

  Pashera fell silent again. It seemed this was something Tol’zen had to get off his chest.

  “The Cydars came up with a plan,” Tol’zen continued. “They would infiltrate the great city of the Arkheins. The Cydars would be the Arkheins’ willing slaves. And then, when they gave the signal, we would rush to attack from the outside, while they attacked from within.

  “Our ancestors knew this plan would take years. The Cydars had to gain the trust of the Arkheins. But the Arkheins were crafty … and suspicious. Time stretched on. Many 10-cycles of years went by.

  “Then, something happened. Perhaps the Arkheins realized what the Cydars were up to. Or perhaps it was just the cruelty of their race. In any case, they robbed the Cydars of the power of speech. They made the Cydars’ brains smaller.

  “Some say,” and Tol’zen’s face became grim. “That the Arkheins got tired of hearing their food talk.

  “It took our ancestors years to learn what had happened. Finally, they found out the truth, and they despaired. Our ancestors decided to attack, even though they knew they would not win. Could not win without the Cydars helping from inside.

  “On the day of the attack, my ancestors charged out of the jungle. The Arkheins readied their weapons, death machines that have never been equaled since. And the Cydars rose up anyway, despite having no speech, even though their brains were shrunken. Their attack took the Arkheins completely by surprise.”

  “We won that day,” Tol’zen said. “But my ancient ancestors lacked the knowledge to restore the Cydars. Over generations, they stopped walking upright. Their hands thickened, their fingers shortened into toes. Their lost everything … forgot everything.

  “But we do not forget. As is the custom of our people, pacts are often sealed with ritual sex. So, our women mated with the Cydars to honor them, once a year at the great festival we call Pakaian.”

  “And today was that festival?” Pashera asked.

  ‘No!” Tol’zen spit the word in fury. “No.

  “You see, the mating ritual has requirements. An important one is the female must be of egg-laying age, so that she can handle the coupling. Lubricants are used, and relaxation induced. It is easily survived … even pleasurable.”

  Pashera couldn’t help but shudder. Some things she would never understand about the saurian.

  “Humans don’t lay eggs,” she said.

  “No, you give birth to live young,” Tol’zen said. “In any case, it stretches out the birth passage.

  “But importantly, this is not a ceremony for humans. That started back in the last Grand Cycle, and is the first abomination.”

  Pashera wondered how long a Grand Cycle was, but Tol’zen continued.

  “The second is purely Kro’tos’ madness. He holds the Pakaian every month on the full moon. He chooses human women who have never had children. He chooses those who will be ripped up by coupling with a Cydars.

  “He is a monster,” Tol’zen said finally.

  They walk
ed in silence for a bit more. Then Pashera said “Kro’tos seems to like you.”

  “Ha!” Tol’zen snorted. “You think so? You know nothing.”

  “Then tell me so that I can learn,” she said.

  “Kro’tos had to disguise his rage,” Tol’zen said. “I survived when he expected me to die. That’s why he killed his loyal lackey, Dam’ian. He was in a murderous rage, and somebody had to suffer. And he couldn’t take it out on me. The mob would have turned on him.

  “Now, though,” Tol’zen said. “The pieces on the board are moving again. Am I playing into Kro’tos hand, or is he playing into mine?”

  They passed by a statue that Pashera knew she had seen before. Tol’zen was evidently walking them in circles while he talked this out.

  “Do you know where you’re going?” she asked.

  “What?” Tol’zen’s face twisted. “Of course I know where I’m going. My quarters are this way.” And he led them down a corridor she hadn’t seen before.

  Such a typical male, she thought. He hates to admit he’s wandering, never mind lost.

  “Such cheek out of you,” Tol’zen muttered. “I’ll have to cure you of that before I let you serve at table. The queen would rip out your tongue for such insolence. Aye, and eat it, too.”

  Pashera added the queen to the list of saurians she was going to kill.

  “What happened to the Arkheins?” Pashera asked Tol’zen.

  “Eh?” Tol’zen stopped before a door. “We killed them, every last one. Such is the inescapable fate of those who stand against my people.”

  He opened the door and led her inside.

  “You mean those who stand against the Remnant?” Pashera asked.

  “We weren’t the Remnant way back then,” Tol’zen said. “It was the dawn of history, not the end of it. But that is another story.”

  “Hello!” Tol’zen shouted. The room they entered let light in through ceiling glass, and had two open doors. One led to a food-preparation area. The other door led deeper into the house..

  “Where is my brother?” Tol’zen said. “Hmm. And Sai’tan is gone, too, I see.”

  “Who?”

  “My housekeeper.”

  “Another human?”

  “No, a widow. She looks after us. Well, let’s go get clean.”

  Tol’zen led the way to a room that had a large basin on the floor. He showed Pashera how water ran out of pipes in the wall. She marveled at hot water on demand. Tol’zen added soap bubbles, another delight for the human woman. This was very different from the soap he’d used on her at the tower in the forest. This soap, when mixed with water, seemed composed mostly of air.

  “I’m holding a baby cloud,” Pashera squealed, lifting up a handfuls of soap bubbles.

  “You see,” Tol’zen said, as she splashed in the water with joy. “There are many delights here in old Guadalquivir.”

  Pashera felt there were more horrors than delights, but she held her tongue. It was time to put the next phase of her plan to work.

  They stripped down and settled into the bath together. Pashera took a cloth and washed Tol’zen thoroughly. Once he was clean from head to toe, she focused on his groin.

  His faroos swelled at her touch.

  “Time for that later,” he said, pushing her hand away. “We should get you clean first.” He took the cloth and started scrubbing. He also taught her to duck under the bath-water to wash the soap out of her hair. His mood was gentle, almost tender.

  Pashera had trouble reconciling the two sides of Tol’zen. On the one hand, he was a ferocious warrior, a relentless tracker, he had enslaved her, and he was obviously neck-deep in intrigue against his king. He also was accepting of, or at least was able to publically conceal his distaste for, the grotesque sacrifice that had taken place earlier today. And he’d told her more than once that humans were lesser creatures.

  And yet in private, she found him attentive and caring … except when he tied her up like an animal. He didn’t force himself on her … except when he had given her no other option but to service him with her mouth at the tower. He seemed determined to protect her … but also had no qualms about putting her on display in a cage.

  Pashera would happily send the saurian race to whatever hell would have them. But Tol’zen was no worse than many of the men of her tribe, and in some ways, considerably better.

  She felt terribly confused. She wished she had an older woman to confide in. She didn’t have enough experience of the world or men to figure it out.

  Still, she came back to her plan. Once they were thoroughly clean, Tol’zen led her out of the bath and helped her dry off. He produced a comb, and combed her hair.

  And to Pashera’s nose, Tol’zen’s lizard smell was washed away, all except for a faint mustiness.

  Her hands drifted back to his groin.

  Tol’zen’s eyes twinkled. “Do you want to use your mouth again?” he asked.

  “I want you …” she took a breath, then exhaled. “Inside me.”

  He pulled back a bit. “I thought your virginity was important to you,” he said.

  “It was,” she said. “It still is. It’s important to me that you take it. After all,” she shrugged, “your king certainly will if he gets the chance.”

  “The king!” Tol’zen’s eyes flashed dangerously. “He’ll have to go through me.” His hands balled into fists.

  This was not the reaction Pashera meant to provoke. She started stroking him again. “Enough about the king. Let me be all you desire, my warrior.”

  He led her to another room, one with a bed. He bade her to lie down, then slowly, gently, began kissing her body. He started with her mouth, then moved to her neck, and down her body.

  He reached her groin and spent some time there – provoking heat and stirring up Pashera’s own juices – then continued on down to her thighs, her knees, her calves, her ankles. He did not kiss her feet, but Pashera was glad of that because it would have tickled. And perhaps he found her human feet as strange as she found his bird-like feet.

  Pashera’s nipples became rock-hard. Tol’zen reached up and played with them, flicking and twisting them. Her body twitched of its own volition, and her insides were hot with the hunger for him. She wanted him inside her more than anything.

  Tol’zen came up to lie beside her. Her hand found his member had grown huge. He reached into a cubbyhole beside the bed and produced a small vial of oil, which he rubbed on his faroos. His black member glistened with the oil.

  “I will fit, but if it’s your first time, it’s going to be tight,” he said. “I’ll take it slow.”

  And he did. When he entered her, it was a feeling both large and strange. And it was wonderful at the same time. She cried out in pleasure, and clasped his back with both hands, trying to pull him down onto her.

  He took things very slowly. But they built up a rhythm, their bodies moving together. Then her hips twitched wildly, as spasms overwhelmed Pashera’s whole body. She cried out, a series of short moans. After a few seconds, the spasms turned into a powerful full body shock. She couldn’t keep quiet; her moan rose and got louder. The explosion of sensation seemed to trickle down and out her legs, and her body jolted again.

  Pashera suddenly felt fatigued.

  Tol’zen finished fast and hard. He spasmed as well, and then fell back onto her.

  His weight was wonderful. But he rolled off to the side quickly.

  Pashera was left stunned. Had she discovered the next wondrous sensation of life?

  Tol’zen’s breath was ragged, but he calmed himself quickly. “We’ll need to take another bath,” he said.

  “Let’s do that again,” Pashera said. “That was heaven!”

  Tol’zen sighed. “Then we’ll wait a bit.”

  To pass the time, Tol’zen told her the story of how his people came to be called The Remnant.

  After the saurians defeated the Arkheins, they built their new civilization on the ruins of the old (Tol’zen told her, a
s they lay side by side on the bed). The saurians didn’t understand much of the Arkhein technology, and much was lost. But they had enough clues to springboard their own science.

  It was never enough to restore the Cydars to full sentience. Their former allies became more like beasts with every generation. Their hands became clubbed feet. They stopped walking upright. Rare gleams in their eyes – glimmers of their past intelligence – faded forever.

  Still, the saurians kept their pact, and honored them.

  The saurians had many gods in the jungle. Those now fell before the one true god …

  “The Devouring God?” Pashera interjected.

  “Don’t interrupt,” Tol’zen said sharply.

  The new god was science. The saurians made a religion out of discovery.

  But then, after many years, science went wrong. Some experiment, long since forgotten, caused a terrible disaster that threatened all life on Earth. Science was the cure as well as the cause of this problem. But once the problem was over, the saurians knew how close they’d come to extinction. So, a new religion took its place beside science. They worshiped the Earth itself. Now, they watched over all the life on Earth. They considered themselves the keepers of lesser life forms.

  Saurian cities spread across the globe. Some stuck to the shorelines of ancient seas, and a few were built at other places of power. Their science grew many-fold. The saurians reached out to other planets, taking their first steps into space.

  Tol’zen took 10 minutes here to explain to Pashera that the world was not flat, and the sun was not a fiery eye that crept across the sky, and the stars were not the souls of the dead looking down upon loved ones, and that the world she knew was a whirling ball of dirt in a cold emptiness. By the time his brief explanation of astronomy ended, her mind was truly boggled.

  Anyway, Tol’zen said, as he got back to his tale, the saurians were ready to take the next step – to explore the stars. But disaster loomed on a cosmic scale. Their telescopes showed that the sun and all its planets were moving into a sector of space filled with asteroids. A hit from one of the larger asteroids would destroy all life on Earth.

  The saurians were of three minds on this (“as we often are on any big issue,” Tol’zen told Pashera).