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

by Angela Angelwolf

  Ang’kim looked askance at Pashera. “Are you SURE it was just practice?”

  “I am sure, Teacher,” Pashera said. Then she added, “Teacher, everyone deserves a second chance.”

  “Humph,” Ang’kim said, then muttered something to herself.

  Ang’kim pointed a finger directly at Gwettelen. “You. You have a sense of honor,” she said. “You must promise me now that if you know of, or even suspect, any attempts on Pashera’s life, you will let me know.”

  Gwettelen swallowed hard. “I so swear it, Teacher.”

  Ang’kim looked at Pashera and said: “You will be more careful?”

  Pashera put an arm around Dawatana. “My bodyguard will watch out for me.”

  Ang’kim laughed. She said: “I suppose so.” She added: “You can all go.” She waved a hand. “To the baths, all of you. You stink, you apes.”

  Gwettelen and Tin’iso avoided eye contact with the other girls.

  That night, Pashera lay in the dark in her bed. She heard a noise above her. It was kind of a scratching noise. What could that be?

  She stood on the 3-legged stool in her cell. It got her closer to the ceiling. Close enough to touch it. She felt a grate up there. “What’s this?” she said aloud.

  “Shh!” a voice said.

  Pashera almost jumped out of her skin. She almost raised the alarm. But then she realized whose voice that was. “Tol’zen?” she said.

  “Yes,” he whispered. “Keep your voice down.”

  “What are you doing in my ceiling?” she asked in an excited whisper.

  “I’m in a ventilation duct,” he said. “This leads right to the air plant, and it’s big enough – barely.”

  “But what are you doing there?”

  “I’ve come to see you, of course.”

  Tol’zen explained this was the only way he could work out to see her.

  “Not every gladiator gets a lord of the Remnant in their ceiling, you know,” he said. “You’re probably the first.”

  “But I need you here – I need to kiss you, and more,” Pashera said.

  “After we get you out, I’ll give you a thousand kisses,” Tol’zen said. “In all your favorite places.”

  She held her fingers to the vent. She felt Tol’zen breath on the other side. He put his fingers to hers. Their skin touched in only the thinnest of places.

  “I have to confess something,” Tol’zen said.

  “What’s that?”

  “I worry you will end up the arena,” Tol’zen said, “that we won’t be able to get you out on the first day.”

  Pashera’s heart sunk. “Why do you worry about that?”

  “Because I worry that something will go wrong. My fool-headed brother always thinks things will go without a hitch. Idiot.”

  “It’s not his fault,” Pashera said. “And he has been loyal to you, and kind to me.”

  “I’d rather you suck a thousand farooses in the palace than see you in any danger,” Tol’zen said.

  “I wouldn’t,” Pashera replied. “The training has been good for me. I’ll get out just fine, you’ll see. U’Chan has it all arranged.”

  She heard a sniffling noise on the other side of the grate.

  “Are you crying?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She kissed her fingertips and put them up to the air grate. “I have to go to sleep now,” she said. “You go get some sleep, too.”

  “But I don’t want to go to sleep,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because then I’ll miss you even more.”

  She laughed, nearly too loud. They made more promises of what they’d do to each other when they got back together. Then Tol’zen slid back through the air vent, and Pashera got down off her stool.

  She wondered what her teachers would think about a lord of the Remnant crawling around in her ceiling. That made her chuckle, and that’s the thought she had in her head when she went to sleep.

  Then next morning, at breakfast, Gwettelen and Tin’iso sat at a bench alone, ostracized. But something about Gwettelen tugged at Pashera’s heart. She knew that Ang’kim was right – Gwettelen was not bad by nature. She did have a sense of honor. But life in Guadalquivir had never given her a chance to show it.

  And as long as Kro’tos owned her soul, she never would get that chance.

  Chapter 16. Assassin, Queen and Bard

  Ten days from the games, there was another change. A big counter went up on one side of the main training yard. “10” it read in big letters.

  That same day, Pashera and about half the girls got the battle tops made by the weavers. Most liked them. “Will they protect against a sword?” one asked dubiously.

  “No,” Pashera admitted.

  “So what’s the point then?”

  Some girls hated them because they were too confining. Or because they thought it was shameful to cover their breasts.

  But for every one who objected to the battle tops, another one was willing to try the new garment out. And for those with larger breasts, the advantage was obvious. Then there was scuffle over finding one to fit.

  Ang’ess shook her head in disgust. “You apes with your teats,” she said.

  Another series of packages showed up. These gifts were handed out to Gwettelen and the two human women who entered training with her, and others lined up, curious.

  These garments tightly enclosed the midsection, and had half-cups that held the breasts. Another strip of material went over the top of the breasts, but left the nipples were exposed. So the breasts were supported, but not held tightly in place as with Pashera’s garment.

  This was very close to the garment that Gwettelen and Kro’tos’ other slaves had worn at the party before the attack on the sky pirates.

  This new garment, which Gwettelen called an isiphas, was a hit with many of the women.

  “We can at least look like women,” said one of the gladiators who had chafed against wearing a battle top. “One of our only advantages over the men is they’re mesmerized by our nipples. Give ‘em a jiggle and the men take a pause … just long enough for us to kill ‘em.”

  Her view made sense to a lot of girls, so Gwettelen had plenty of company wearing the new outfit.

  Gwettelen smiled for the first time in days. Pashera knew the other girl must be seeing a crack in her ostracism.

  Pashera was disgusted by the isiphas, but didn’t say anything. She wasn’t ashamed of her breasts, not by any means. And she never would have thought of covering them before coming to Guadalquivir. But wearing Gwettelen’s outfit was just feeding Kro’tos’ unhealthy obsession with breasts. And Pashera wasn’t going to give the fat lizard an inch. By the hells, no.

  Pashera’s training with the spear continued. She became faster. She became good. Even very good.

  Unfortunately, Gwettelen also showed weapon proficiency. First, with a sword, she was downright dangerous, though the older girls didn’t mind taking her down a peg.

  Gwettelen was also very good with one of the other weapons called a “coiling dragon.” This was three staves of wood or metal, each nearly as long as Pashera’s arm, held together by metal rings. The pieces could be spun around, gaining momentum for a powerful strike that could strike around a shield.

  One end of one of the staffs had a short metal tooth on it; this was the business end. That tooth was sharp enough to rip flesh or even punch through armor, if it hit correctly. In some conflicts, the trainers told her, the tooth would be poisoned.

  “Coiling dragon indeed. Huh! I’ll show her!” Pashera said to no one in particular, as she practiced even harder with her spear.

  With 9 days to go, Orm’ryn sought her out. “We need to talk,” Orm’ryn said, when they were alone on their way to join Tooloosa and the rest of their training group.

  “About what?”

  “It’s Tin’iso, that lady who came in with Gwettelen,” Orm’ryn said. She used a word that left no mistake she meant the saurian female.[5]<
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  “What about them?”

  “She pretends to know less about fighting than she really does. She knows how to use all sorts of weapons,” Orm’ryn said. “Some of us have been talking this over. There’s only one conclusion.”

  “And that is?”

  “She’s an assassin,” Orm’ryn said.

  Pashera nodded, trying to take the news calmly. “And you think she’s here after me?”

  “Maybe,” Orm’ryn looked at her curiously. “But if so, she did a terrible job of it. No, we think it’s more likely she’s here to kill Tol’zen.”

  The assassins, Orm’ryn explained to Pashera, were an ancient order. They had a history thousands of years old. They originally grew out of a religious cult, but were quickly turned by Guadalquivir’s rulers into an instrument of political and personal gain, as well as to exact vengeance on enemies.

  All assassins were female (“though it was not always so,” Orm’ryn said, without further explanation). The leader of the assassins was the Domme Okan[6]. She was the only public persona, the one who bared her face. All other assassins wore veils or disguises in public, and often went disguised on missions.

  “But we have seen the face of Tin’iso,” Pashera objected. “That would mean she’s not an assassin, right?”

  Tin’iso still might be disguised, Orm’ryn explained. The assassins had methods of changing someone’s appearance so that, even stripped to the skin, they looked like a different person.

  Either that, or she was the type of assassins known as an Adherent. Of the different initiates of the assassins’ creed, Adherents were the most dangerous, because they expected to die on their missions.

  Traditionally, one or two assassins fought in the summer games every year. The gladiators hated the assassins for this very reason; the assassins always fought to the death, and they almost always won. Their opponents were usually chosen by short-straw among the professional gladiators.

  But also traditionally, the assassins didn’t appear until right before they were scheduled to fight in the games. If Tin’iso was actually an assassin joining the school during training, then something big was up.

  “The game has changed,” Orm’ryn said. “And not for the better.”

  Pashera didn’t know anything about the assassin game, but to her, the whole idea seemed foolish. “Assassins are supposed to stay hidden, aren’t they? Are you sure she is an assassin?”

  “No one can be sure,” Orm’ryn said. “But Tin’iso isn’t just good. She is deadly. I think you survived your ‘training session’ only because they weren’t expecting Dawatana.

  “The real test will be in the arena.”

  The days flew by. Ang’ess issued a dozen wooden, iron-tipped spears for Amaz. The Zimbwe queen distributed them to those who could use them. Including herself.

  Ang’ess and Ang’kim watched Amaz lead her troops through the drill. Ang’ess went so far as to give an approving nod. Pashera practically flushed. That was high praise.

  Pashera begged for and received permission to reward Amaz and two of her team with a couple hours at the baths. It was no surprise that Amaz chose Tenrici and Rylo. They scrubbed themselves, scrubbed each other’s backs, shampooed their hair, and finally relaxed. Pashera joined them.

  “So you are a full-fledged gladiator now?” Tenrici asked. There was no anger in her voice at the different treatment Pashera had received.

  Pashera thought of how Tol’zen was going to save her, and she thought of how there was no one to save her friends. She felt horrible. “I wish I could save all of you,” she said.

  “Don’t worry,” Amaz said. She leaned over to Pashera and winked. “We have a plan.”

  “Better than the first plan,” Tenrici said. “Hey, who came up with that one, anyway?” She playfully splashed water at Pashera.

  Pashera’s heart jumped a little. She dared to hope. “What plan?”

  “Should we tell a gladiator?” Rylo asked. Her eyes were not as smiling as Tenrici’s and Amaz’s. “I see you’ve taken the brand.”

  “Shush,” it was Amaz’s turn to splash water. “Pashera is my friend.”

  Amaz cuddled up to Pashera again. Her large breasts floated in the water. “I’ll tell you if you kiss me,” Amaz said.

  “Ooh,” Tenrici and Rylo said together, giggling.

  Pashera leaned over and kissed Amaz full on the mouth, thinking that might shut her up. The other woman’s large breasts floated against her own, and the nipples rubbed together. Her nipples started to tingle. The sensation spread to her crotch.

  As soon as Pashera stopped kissing Amaz, Amaz kissed her back. Her kiss turned into a full-on body hug. As Amaz pushed her tongue into Pashera’s mouth, one hand grasped her by the neck, the other swept down her front and spread Pashera’s legs.

  “I am a queen,” Amaz said. “And I need much stroking.”

  Pashera’s sexual tension had been building up for many days now. Now, finally, she had someone she could release it with, someone she could trust. She kissed Amaz’s magnificent breasts as the other woman worked two fingers into Pashera’s vagina and stroked back and forth.

  Soon – sooner than she would have thought possible – Pashera felt an orgasm sweep through her. Her crotch bucked and spasmed as she rode that wave of pleasure.

  “Hey, how about us?” Tenrici asked.

  “I have a suggestion,” Rylo said.

  Her suggestion was to have the women sit close in the bath, knees touching, while extending a hand to their neighbor on the right. They each stroked and fingered the person on the right while the person on their left stroked and fingered them. That meant Pashera got to finger Amaz, who came with earthy groans.

  Their attention to each other was not like her lovemaking with Tol’zen. Instead, it was friends celebrating life in the midst of death. Each orgasm was an affirmation of life, and a jab in the eye of chaos and doom.

  They came in quick succession, except for Tenrici, who had trouble. So all three other women focused on her, kissing her all over her body, probing with their fingers, sucking her breasts, until she came loud and hard, bucking like a wild yast.

  Then they relaxed. Pashera looked up from her half-dream state to see Ang’ess looking down at her. “Playtime is over, Pashera,” she said. “Get your friends back to the barracks.”

  On the way to the barracks, Pashera held Amaz’s fingers loosely. She leaned over close. “You never told me your plan,” she whispered.

  “Then I’ll have to tell you next time,” Amaz whispered back.

  Two days to go to the games. That morning, right after breakfast, Pashera got another visitor. U’Chan. He looked stressed out and worried.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked him.

  “We aren’t going to be able to get you out,” he said, “until the end of the first day of the games.”

  Pashera nodded, trying to remain cool.

  “You’re taking this better than I hoped,” U’Chan said.

  “I am well-trained and in top physical condition,” Pashera said. “The first day is the easiest day, so they say. I’ll be fine.”

  He smiled, then plowed ahead. “Our plan was to get you out by feigning an illness. Then you’d be brought to the medic, and we’d fake your death. But they’re onto that now. Routines have changed, and the medicine is being tested. It’s as if someone knows our plans.”

  Pashera thought of how she’d told Kro’brin how Tol’zen would save her. Could he have betrayed her? But she hadn’t given him any specifics – hadn’t known any specifics. What was there to betray?

  “So what’s the plan now?” Pashera said.

  “There is a battle royale the evening of the first day,” U’Chan said. “We have bribed one of the male gladiators – at considerable expense – to help you fake your death. However, this will require you take a wound. Nothing fatal. He swears he can put his sword through your body without striking a major organ. But you can’t flop around after you are stabbed, either. Can
you do that? Can you lay still through the pain?”

  Pashera considered it. “Of course I can.” She almost added: I am a gladiator, but realized her plan was going to betray everything that gladiators were about.

  U’Chan nodded. “Well, that’s it, then.”

  Something occurred to Pashera. “You don’t approve of all the ‘expense’ your brother is going through for me, do you, U’Chan?”

  U’Chan looked like he was going to deny it, then he shrugged. “It’s not you,” he sighed. “Or not just you. We had a plan. A very good plan. And Tol’zen threw it all away when he decided to stand for king. And he is risking all.”

  “What was the plan?”

  U’Chan started to wave her off, then shrugged again. “Eh, what does it matter at this point. Either Tol’zen’s plan works, or it doesn’t.”

  “You see,” he said, “we have a spaceship. And it is large enough to evacuate everyone that matters. We can leave behind this planet … leave it to idiots like Kro’tos – and go join our brothers in the stars.”

  “You’re a member of the Star Folk Reunion cult,” Pashera said.

  “No. What? Sit around and wait for them to come back? That’s a tale for hatchlings,” U’Chan said. “The spaceship was built over a thousand years ago, before everything went to hell. It’s been floating forgotten up in space, halfway out to the moon.”

  “If this spaceship is what you say it is, why is it still here?”

  “Who can say? Perhaps they realized that the Star Folk are 65 million years away ahead of us. There is .. or was … no way to catch up.

  “But,” his eyes twinkled. “We received some information over the Overvibe. Do you know what the Overvibe is?”

  “Yes.” Pashera surprised him. “It’s a mental connection to the 95 percent of the universe that is not visible, and a way for you to explore and contact alien races.”

  “Very good!” U’Chan said, impressed. “You ARE smart. Anyway, an alien race sent us detailed schematics for a faster-than-light drive. What would take a million years, we can travel in a couple moon-spans of relative time.”