Then her consciousness bolted back the way she’d come, and her focus skipped to the palace and back to the lock.
She put the code in place. Over the web of the Sumsentia, she heard the lock open with a “clunk.”
Pashera sat back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. “It is done,” she said to Amaz. The other woman’s face lit up in triumph.
“Oh, you’re done all right,” Tol’zen said, plowing through the door. “Just what do you think you’re up to?” His face was furious.
Caught red-handed, Pashera’s jaws worked but nothing came out. She was in her third panic of the evening.
“It’s my fault, oh lord,” Amaz said. “This one,” she indicated Pashera, “says she can tell fortunes using this tool,” she indicated the pantellion. “I was going to give her a hairbrush to tell mine.”
Tol’zen snorted. “I can tell the future for both of you,” he said. “Punishment! YOU are supposed to be serving at table,” he shouted at Amaz, pointing a finger at her. “And as for you,” his finger swung to Pashera, “I warned you about going off with these palace harlots. They’ll cut your throat at the first opportunity.”
“Please sir,” Amaz said, appearing desperate, “please don’t tell my master. I’ll get right to table now, sir …”
“Oh, get out of my sight,” Tol’zen said. “Just don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.” He glanced down, saw the pantellion, picked it up, and hurled it through a vase on the other side of the room. The ancient pottery collapsed in shards and dust. The clatter ripped the silence and made Pashera jump. Tol’zen glared at Amaz and said, “Tell Kro’tos he can send me a bill. Or maybe he’ll just take it out of your hide.
“And as for you,” he turned his furious gaze on Pashera, and grabbed her by the hand. “You come with me. Now!”
Trembling, Pashera had no choice but to obey as Tol’zen pulled her along by the hand. Nobles and dignitaries along the way wanted to stop and congratulate him, but he put them off with brusqueness bordering on rudeness.
After the two of them left, Amaz breathed a sigh of relief. The ruse only had to work a little while longer. She left the study and hurried along to the armory. She found the group waiting for her. The drugged guard was propped in a chair against the wall, an empty wine-cup in his hand.
Amaz signaled silently, and her team padded past the guard and approached the armory. Amaz put her hand on the lever of the door and turned it. It lifted with a “THUNK” that reverberated loudly in the empty room.
All eyes turned to the guard. He still snored. Amaz pulled at the door and it opened wide.
And inside were racks and racks of the wonder weapons.
Amaz signaled for Rylo to come forward. “Go get the others,” she said. “Quickly.”
Rylo scampered away. Amaz lifted the first weapon out of the rack with a grunt. They were remarkably heavy. She started handing the weapons out to her comrades. The men could handle the weapons easily, but many of the women not so much. Soon, Rylo returned with dozens more palace slaves, and more were streaming along the corridors behind them. Amaz picked the strongest among them to handle the wonder weapons.
Amaz knew they only had minutes now. They’d only spread their conspiracy among slaves they trusted. But that race-traitor Gwettelen would soon spot so many of them were missing. Or someone else would raise the alarm.
Tenrici went to the other side of the room and signaled for slaves to line up, and she handed out the rest of the wonder weapons. Good. Amaz knew she could count on that one. The rest of her crew of rebels were a mix of well-meaning but ill-equipped human patriots, borderline cowards and flat-out muddled-headed apes. But she worked with the tools she had.
And she also worked with hope in her heart. Rumors had reached the palace slaves. Rumors of a black devil of a human who raided and terrorized the saurian settlements to the south. This raider pushed deeper into Remnant territory than any had ever before. He led an army of fierce warriors who challenged and attacked Remnant troops when most humans hid and scurried.
If the sky pirates hadn’t presented a more immediate problem, the Remnant would have focused on this black raider with the intent of wiping him out. Amaz knew that the black raider was her husband. She didn’t know that for a fact – the saurians didn’t know his name. But her husband wouldn’t allow his own wife to be sold into captivity and not do something about it.
Now the war chief of the Great Zimbwe tribe was doing something about it. And she had to escape to freedom and find him before the Remnant brought their nightmarish weaponry to bear on him.
The burly stable hand Tenfo came up to Amaz. “My lady,” he said, for he knew her to be of noble birth. “How does this weapon work?”
“See the button on the side there?” Amaz pointed. “Push that, and it will fire. But don’t push it yet. It only has three charges. Make sure you’re aiming it at the scaly bastards first. Now pass what I just taught you along to everyone.”
Amaz walked out of the armory into the vestibule. Some eager slaves had cut the guard’s throat while he slept.
“Good,” Amaz congratulated them. “The first of many tonight.”
She could see Tenrici blanch at the sight of the dead saurian. Tenrici had considered him a friend; she babbled on about how he talked about missing the hamlet of his birth. Amaz went to Tenrici and shook her by the shoulder. “Don’t be weak,” she hissed. “They ALL would see us slaves forever. We will kill them all or die trying.”
Tenrici nodded grimly, but her face was still pale. Amaz choked back an urge to spit. It wasn’t the girl’s fault. She was used to slavery, as too many were. Amaz would have to show them the way.
Amaz spared a thought for Pashera, the girl from the north who had unlocked the armory. There was no time or chance to get her now. But if they took the gate swiftly enough, if the saurians ran in terror from the wonder weapons, she’d try to save that young northern girl, too. Aye and kill that black bastard who was Pashera’s master, too. He was a sneaky one, that Tol’zen. Better dead now than hunting her and her husband in the south later.
Amaz turned to face the room, and made sure all eyes were on her. Deliberately, she ripped off her slave collar and threw it to the floor. Others followed suit.
“There is no turning back now,” she told them. Somber faces nodded in agreement.
“Be happy,” she said. “Smile. Because before you see another dawn, you will be free.”
Amaz took the lead and led her slave army down dark corridors. More of the palace slaves joined up. Some had axes or other household tools. Others had looted relic spears and swords from heroic displays around the palace. Those old weapons would probably shatter on first contact, she thought. But they’d be enough.
The final corridor, slippery with slime and smelling stale from little use, brought them out to a little-used door. The door opened onto an alley. Amaz led her slaves along one alley after another. Three times they came across saurians, drunken wretches all. They were quickly killed.
Amaz wondered, not daring to hope: Could they maintain the secrecy until the very end? Then, as the alley opened, she realized: Yes!
For there, at the head of the alley, was a stretch of paved, open area, and beyond that, the southern gate of the city. She could see guards idling by as night traffic sluggishly went through the gate.
She turned and faced her comrades. Her troops. Her subjects.
“Liberty is only a stone’s throw away, my warriors,” she said. “Freedom awaits. For many of you, the chance to return home. If you have no home to return to, you will find a place of honor among my tribe. This, I, Amaz, queen of the Great Zimbwe tribe, swear to you on my blood and my life.”
A low growl of assent rumbled through the faces packed in the alleyway. That wasn’t good enough for Amaz. To take that gate, she needed lions, not mice.
“For too long, you have kept your voices low and your faces downcast,” Amaz told them in a loud voice. “For too long, the evil liz
ards have kept you under their heel … aye, even as they ground that heel into your face.
“For too long, you have forgotten that you are men and women, warriors all. I tell you now, remember who you are. You are the doom come to Guadalquivir, the doom long foretold. You shall shake this evil city to its foundations and send it and the monsters who rule it tumbling into the pit. We shall buy our freedom tonight, and pay the price of freedom with their blood.”
There was another murmur of assent. Still too low to suit Amaz.
“Now,” she told them, her voice getting louder. “Now, my lions. Let me hear you roar!”
The men and women before her raised their voices as one and let out a ragged cheer. Those who still wore their slave collars ripped them off, or had them ripped off by others.
Now. Now, by the gods, Amaz was ready.
At the gates, the guards turned to see what the noise was. The traffic flowing through the gate idled to a standstill and passersby turned and craned their heads at the unexpected noise coming from the alley across the plaza.
“Now!” Amaz turned. “Let THEM hear your roar!” She sprinted out the alley onto the plaza.
Her large breasts, unbridled, made running difficult, but Amaz wasn’t going to let that stop her. Nothing on earth would stop her now, she knew that in her heart of hearts. She raised her wonder weapon as she bore down on the guards and she pulled the trigger on the wonder weapon and howled a war cry.
Tol’zen led Pashera back home. When they got back inside, he brought her into his bedroom, and pushed her down on the bed. His hand closed over her throat. It wasn’t strangling tight, but he was definitely showing her who was boss.
“Did I tell you not to go off with those villainous servants of Kro’tos?” he asked, in an arched voice.
“Yes, master,” Pashera said miserably.
“Did I not tell you that they would try to get you alone and kill you?”
“Yes, master,” she said. “But it wasn’t like that.”
“You’ve been in this city for less than a 10-day. Do you really think you know its ways better than I do?”
“She’s a friend,” Pashera said, and her voice became strained as his hand tightened. “She wouldn’t hurt … me.” This last part she gasped.
His hand tightened again. She found this strangely arousing. She knew he would never really hurt her. Not after that confession of love on the hillside. Not after killing three of his own kind for her.
So as his hand tightened on her throat, she felt a tingling start in her groin.
He released her throat and got up and stalked around the room. She gasped as she could breathe again. She could see frustration boiling over in him.
Tol’zen turned and looked at her squarely. “I am your master,” he said.
“You are my master,” she agreed. She did not add, “For now.”
“What should a master do when a slave disobeys?” he wondered aloud.
“Maybe squeeze my throat some more?” she said. “That was teaching me good.”
Tol’zen snorted in disgust. “You still don’t take me seriously,” he said.
He came back, sat on the bed, and grabbed her roughly. He dragged her over is legs and laid her over his knee, and pulled up her skirt.
She was expecting it, but the first time his hand smacked her bottom, the sensation was hot and sharp as his rough palm and each of his calloused fingers smacked into her flesh. Her breath left her, and she struggled to regain it, as the next spank smacked her buttocks – hard!
Again. And again. And again.
The blows hurt, but they were strangely bearable. She realized with some surprise that a gentle moan escaped her lips. She felt the warmth spread to her sex.
That stopped him. “Are you enjoying this?” he asked, hand suspended above her pinked flesh.
“Maybe a little,” she said. “Is that wrong, too?”
Tol’zen uttered an oath under his breath and lifted his hand again. He smacked her bare ass harder this time. This time, the sensation was white-hot and a star show of painful explosions. Her crotch moistened so much she knew it must be dripping now. She needed the spanking to continue, torn somewhere between heaven and hell.
Her legs opened up, while her ass shuddered at his touch. Her movements settle into the rhythm, hips moving slightly, her eyes tight. His hand beat a tattoo on her ass, building up in force, harder and yet harder again. As the fire spread on her cheeks, tingling sensations from the nerve endings at the base of her spine merged with her wickedly sexual response to the spanking itself.
Finally he stopped. He was out of breath now. His finger dropped between her legs. Her legs spread wider, offering him unfettered access to her sex.
His fingers dropped down to her crotch, which opened wetly for him. He traced a finger around, sending more swift shudders sweeping through her body. His middle finger probed her, stroking her outside and inside.
He kept stroking, watched her arch her back as she approached release. It was irresistible now. Soft moans fell from her lips, guttural and meaningless, and she braced herself and sunk her nails into the bed and his leg. She shuddered. She forced herself back on his fingers, her body begging him to sink them as deep as he could. She came hard, with a long, low groan, as a massive orgasm melted through her entire body.
She collapsed onto him. A thin sheen of sweat beaded over her entire body. But her collapse was brief. She climbed onto the bed, face-down, and presented her ass in the air, even as she drew breath in racking gasps.
He put out a hand and touched her ass. She spasmed at his touch. He stroked her cherry-red ass soothingly with one hand as the other yanked on his hardening faroos. Soon, he was quite ready, and he stood behind her, pressing against her and entering her.
She groaned low and loud, like she’d devolved into some beast, a creature of pure pleasure.
His strokes were rhythmic, a constant smack-smack-smack that soon had Pashera biting the bed and clawing with her spread fingers as another wave of ecstasy swept over her.
Then Tol’zen came. Pashera gasped a little, then he grabbed her by the hips and finished in a rapid succession of groaning, pile-driving thrusts that left him spent and empty.
Finished, he stumbled forward and collapsed on the bed beside her.
He seemed to fall into a trance. Pashera was exhausted and aching, so she didn’t disturb him. Finally, when he stirred again, she asked him: “Tell me about Kaledonia.”
Tol’zen sighed. “Fine,” he said. “I will tell you about Kaledonia. That is the story of the downfall of my race.”
“I thought the big calamity happened last cycle, when your people rose up to kill the priests who preached about the star-folk coming back,” she said.
“Oh, so you ARE paying attention to our little talks,” Tol’zen said. “No, but I can see the confusion. The end of the star cult was actually our liberation. We were finally freed from the hopeless fantasy of the return of the star-folk. That was near the beginning of the last Great Cycle. More than a thousand years ago.
“Anyway, the Remnant rid themselves of the sky-folk priests. Now that they no longer looked skyward, they turned outward. For too long, our race clustered in the valleys around this mountain. We only had a few cities on the shore of the Big Salt Lake, what you now know as the Inland Sea. It was much smaller then. Now, my race spread out. Our tentative hold became a firm grasp.
“We built cities all around the shore of the Big Salt Lake. Cities now long since lost, but remembered with regret for their loss: Frikhl with its mysteries, signs and portents. Amenemant, the city of science. Gavryrh, which supplied our empire with metal. Yaharis, which harvested forests of azure. Even fabled Zreirrussua, the jewel of the coast, as it was called. And many more.
“And not just cities. Islands like The Iron Cay, Xetyh with its storied rituals, and fabled Duvynt, where the ghosts walked and dreams ruled.
“We had human slaves, of course. The tribes then were lowly, uncouth, and
hopelessly violent. Even your tribe would see them as barbarians. But we captured some, and civilized those we could. They worshipped us as gods, and made their offerings.
“Through one route or another, the woman Kaledonia arrived in Guadalquivir. By the standards of your race, she was a beauty. She also possessed remarkable physical strength. And she had the grace of a forest cat. On this part, the legends are quite clear.
“All this combined to help her catch the eye of the king, who favored her.
“The queen did not favor Kaledonia. She tried to have her killed. Should have had her killed. It wasn’t simple jealousy, you see. For Kaledonia may have been coy with the king, but in her heart lurked the white-hot rage of a thousand burning suns. Kaledonia hated the Remnant and all we stood for. The queen came to understand this.
“Naturally, the queen wanted her destroyed, and not just because Kaledonia was the king’s favorite. Queens had more power then, and why the queen’s order was not followed is not known.
“Kaledonia escaped. She had allies. She learned our secrets. She had the same talent you possess, the ability to access the Sumsentia. Through this, she was able to wreak havoc.”
Tol’zen paused, then added: “I think this is why the priests called you Kaledonia, because your ability with the Sumsentia is remarkable. She was also extraordinarily talented that way. Perhaps not as strong as Thal’tos and his mentalo adapts, sure. But most humans can’t use a pantellion or the Sumsentia at all. When this skill isn’t expected, it becomes doubly dangerous.”
Pashera briefly and guiltily thought of her encounter with Thal’tos through the Sumsentia just a few hours earlier. What would Tol’zen say if he learned of that? Would he say the scientists were right when they called for her death?
“Anyway,” Tol’zen continued. “The queen stepped up her efforts to kill Kaledonia. Each effort met with failure, and a group of malcontents formed around this talented human. She led them in a battle with the queen. The battle was fought with dragons and in flying machines, for we had more of them then, and they were more reliable. Weapons of incredible power were used. They ripped up and reshaped the land from one horizon to another. Thousands upon thousands of my people died. Cities vanished in flame.
Slave in the City of Dragons (Dinosaurs and Gladiators Book 1) Page 25
