Lion of Zarall

by E B Rose

  Hopper had a habit of staring at his opponent’s eyes. It was another one of his silly little strategies. He’d use it to intimidate his opponents. However, the technique rarely worked on purebreds since they didn’t participate in eye contact.

  Another topic Saradra would have found interesting…

  Lion had found Saradra asleep this morning when he’d woken up from his restless, half-conscious state that he couldn’t really call sleep. Not knowing what else to do, he’d dressed and left.

  He’d left.

  What else could he have done?

  Being in that room with her, watching her peaceful face, knowing it could have been the last time he’d ever look at her, was a torture. He’d just wanted to get out of there before she’d opened those beautiful eyes and forced him to confront his helplessness.

  Lion stared at Hopper’s eyes, and the freeborn beast blinked. The flash of rage he’d seen in Lion’s eyes made him flinch.

  Lion charged at him with a furious howl. His lips were pulled back in a snarl; his face a twisted mask of death. Hopper stepped back, swinging his axe at Lion’s head. Lion raised his Lor’Kas sideways, parrying the strike. He hooked his weapon under the blade of the axe, pulled, twisted, and kicked Hopper’s wrist at the same time, disarming him.

  Throwing both weapons to the side, Lion grabbed Hopper’s ears and buried his knee in his stomach.

  Hopper doubled over, gasping for air and holding his stomach. Lion brought his elbow down on the back of Hopper’s head, sending him on his hands and knees.

  Rage was roaming inside him, like an out of control bushfire. He was bloodthirsty. When Hopper attempted to get up, Lion kicked him down and kept kicking over and over again.

  Hopper grappled Lion’s leg, rolled, and pulled him down with him. He punched Lion’s back, causing the welts to flare up. Lion responded by pulling him in a headlock.

  “This is not a bloody wrestling drill!” Joharin yelled.

  “Leave them,” Badimar grunted, an amused grin on his lips.

  Hopper wrestled his way free and attempted to lock one of Lion’s arms. With his free hand, he slapped Lion’s back repeatedly, trying to distract him with pain. There were no such concepts as cheap moves for beasts. All Hopper managed to do instead was to piss Lion off more.

  Lion growled like a beast, reached forward, and bit Hopper’s leg. The freeborn was surprised enough to flinch, curse, and loosen his grip. Lion used the opportunity to pull his arm free. After elbowing Hopper’s jaw, dazzling him, he straddled his chest. He started punching.

  Hopper glared at him, murder in his eyes. Lion glared back. The nausea and the anticipation of pain started building up in his chest. He hated the feeling, but he hated losing more.

  He hated Hopper’s eyes. He hated how the freeborn was flaring his nostrils and looking at him like he wanted to kill him.

  He hated how helpless he was.

  He hated how much he wanted to avert his gaze.

  Without thinking clearly, he grabbed Hopper’s face and placed his thumbs over his eyes.

  “Padlociatius.”

  Lion fell on Hopper, losing control of his body. He was lucky Badimar had acted before Lion had put enough pressure to pop Hopper’s eyes out.

  They were both lucky.

  Hopper pushed Lion off of him and kicked his paralysed body. Comprehension of what Lion was about to do came to him in waves. He grunted like a wild boar and threw himself at the purebred.

  “Enough!” Joharin grabbed Hopper from behind. “I said enough! Back off!”

  Hopper didn’t back off until he received several lashes from Joharin. Breathing heavily, he went back to sit with the other beasts, his eyes promising Lion revenge.

  “What the fuck were you thinking?” Joharin turned to Lion. The whip lashed at his side.

  “Joharin, cut it out,” Badimar said. His lips twitched. “He fought well. Set up the next fight.”

  Two beasts dragged Lion’s limp body to the side. The effects of his First Word didn’t last long, but that was enough time to contemplate what Lion had almost done. If Badimar hadn’t acted in time, Lion could have ended Hopper’s life.

  Worse. Death would have been a mercy when compared to the fate of a damaged beast.

  How had he lost control like that? He’d never ever carelessly cause a permanent injury to another beast.

  What was happening to him?

  He’d watched the rest of the fights, feeling Hopper’s vengeful gaze on him. When the training session was over, Joharin got the other beasts to clean up the yard while Badimar dismissed Lion to go and have an early supper. He also gave him permission to see Vanalten after dinner and take something for his pain.

  His meal was roasted lamb with rice, potatoes and seafruit cake. He felt a devastating twinge inside of him as he looked at the seafruit cake. A lump sat on his throat. He hardly swallowed his food before he dragged his feet to Vanalten’s office.

  The old physician muttered to himself disapprovingly after seeing the welts on his back. He had Lion lie facedown on his table as he rubbed a cold paste on them. The paste helped to numb the pain. Lion’s eyelids felt heavy and as soon as he closed his eyes, Saradra’s sleeping face flashed in front of him.

  She’d been here, in this office, earlier in the day. Lion could feel the faint echoes of her presence still lingering in the room. He could even convince himself that he smelled her on the examination table.

  The lump on his throat grew larger.

  Vanalten sent him back to his room, after giving him an herbal mixture to drink. Lion’s feet felt heavy as he trudged along the corridor leading to his room. He froze with his hand on the doorknob, dreading to open and to find his room empty. His chest hurt.

  Closing his eyes, he pressed his forehead against the cold, wooden surface of the door and…

  And he heard a soft rustle behind the door.

  He opened it and his heart did a somersault at the sight of Saradra’s sky-blue eyes. He staggered forward, blindly closing the door behind him.

  Saradra stood up from the bed, an uncertain smile ghosting her beautiful face. “Master Vanalten said it’s too early to…”

  Lion tackled her into a hug and cut her off with a kiss. Saradra responded to his touch. Her arms came around him at first, then fell back on her sides when she remembered the welts on his back. Lion didn’t care about the pain. Taking her wrists, he guided her arms back where they should be; holding him tightly, not letting go. He planted kisses all over her face; her eyes, the side of her mouth, her jaw… He tasted tears.

  She buried her face in his chest and he held her in his arms for hours.

  He didn’t know what Saradra had done to him, but he knew that he couldn’t let anyone - not even Master Badimar - take her from him.

  13

  LION

  Moonlight drifted through the window and gave Saradra’s hair a faint glimmer.

  Lion laid still, not moving, not even breathing. For once, he was grateful for the small size of the bed. Saradra was lying in his arms, half her bare body resting against his chest, their legs tangled together. The steady thumps of her heart were mixing with his. She slept so peacefully.

  Her body was no softer or warmer than the last time he had her, yet the temptation was ten times more irresistible. The way her body moulded into his arms so perfectly suggested they were made to be together. Now that his skin was mortally addicted to hers, Lion couldn’t imagine sleeping alone anymore. He couldn’t go back to the way his life was before. He was too far gone by now.

  Despite the perfection of this moment, all Lion could feel was fear and dread. Every speck of peace and happiness that attempted to infiltrate inside his heart was shot down by hopelessness. Sooner or later, Saradra’s Owner was going to come for her. They were going to take her from him. His muscles tensed at the thought. He hugged her closer. The movement almost woke her up. She fidgeted, rubbed her cheek against his chest, inhaled deeply, and settled again.

  Ev
ery course of action Lion could imagine ended with him being dead - after being severely punished - or him being sent to White Tower - also after being severely punished.

  He was not going to White Tower.

  He was not living without her either.

  That only left one other option.

  Somehow, the decision lifted that heavy dread off his chest. He felt lighter. Almost peaceful. His eyes closed.

  It hadn’t been five minutes when he snapped his eyes back open. He’d heard a hushed sound below in the yard, just outside the window. Lifting his head off the pillow, he scowled, straining to hear it again.

  Silence.

  When he rested his head back on the pillow, Saradra’s sleepy eyes greeted him. Her smile was glowing. “Can’t you sleep?” she whispered, stifling a big yawn.

  Lion shook his head.

  She shifted up, propping her head with a hand. Concern creased her face. “Is it your back?”

  Lion shook his head again. He was laying on his side, his back not touching the sheets. Although his back was still sore, it was tolerable.

  Saradra lowered herself back on the pillow they’d shared. Her long eyelashes fluttered. Their lips were so close. A temptation.

  “Tell me something about yourself,” she whispered.

  “No.” Lion’s lips brushed against hers. His refusal raised an eyebrow. “You do,” Lion requested.

  A playful glimmer flashed in Saradra’s eyes. “Are you asking me to tell you about myself?” she drew out slowly.

  When Lion nodded, she couldn’t hold her smirk back. Lion’s heart skipped a beat.

  “Let’s see…” She narrowed her eyes at the ceiling, thinking. “I’m from Bellmouth. It’s a town by the coast, near…”

  “Ascain.”

  She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. “How do you know where Bellmouth is? Have you been there before?”

  Lion shook his head, then explained with one word: “Map.”

  “Ah. You’re fascinated with maps, aren’t you?” she whispered. “Why?”

  Lion offered her a shrug. He watched her expectantly, until she remembered it was her turn to speak tonight. She giggled softly. “Right. Something about myself… Well, this is hard!”

  After seeing the look on Lion’s face, she broke into a silent laughter. Lion covered her mouth with his palm, muffling her voice, at the same time not being able to hold back his own smile.

  A peaceful warmth filled his chest. It was happiness.

  Saradra was a blinding light and she had banished the fear and the dread out of him. At least for the time being.

  When she was calm enough, Lion moved his hand to brush her hair back from her face.

  “Well,” Saradra whispered. “My favourite food is grilled salmon. Marinated in butter and garlic. Served with roasted sweet potatoes. Mmm.”

  Lion’s thumb traced the soft lines of her jaw. His gaze flickered to her eyes, barely noticing the ghost of the pain.

  “My favourite colour is grey,” she continued after kissing the base of Lion’s palm. “It reminds me of the sea after a storm.”

  Lion brushed his finger over Saradra’s lips. Her breathing grew shallow as she continued: “My favourite time of the day is night. Especially clear nights where you can see all the stars.”

  A look flashed in Lion’s depths. Hungry. Predatory.

  “My favourite…”

  Lion pressed his lips against hers, muffling her words. She responded by parting her lips. He hooked his arm around her waist and pressed her body against his, firmly. Possessively. There was a submissive air in the way she tilted her head back, closing her eyes. Her hand found the back of his head, urging him to take her.

  That’s when the bells started ringing.

  Lion flinched, sat halfway up in the bed. Saradra’s eyes grew large. “What is this?”

  Lion’s flesh mourned the loss of Saradra’s warmth when he rolled out of the bed reluctantly, and walked over to the window.

  It was still dark. Grudgingly, he noticed this wasn’t the kind of nights Saradra favoured. The clouds kept the stars and the moon hidden, concealing the courtyard below. Shapes were moving in the shadows, but there wasn’t enough light to pick them out.

  Somewhere near the Upper Keep, flames were licking the sky. As the alarm bells continued to blare through the night, confused sounds of people mixed with the noise.

  Saradra came over to his side, wrapping her naked body in the blanket. “What’s going on?” she repeated. “Is that fire?”

  A dark shape ran across the courtyard beneath, but Lion couldn’t make out who it belonged to. “Wait here,” he whispered as he reached for his pants.

  “Are you going out?” Saradra’s voice quivered with concern. “Is it safe? Are we under attack or something?”

  Lion slipped his pants on, then pulled his tunic down. He didn’t know. He didn’t even know what to tell Saradra, but he could see the concern which paled her face.

  Wanting to do a reassuring gesture, he slapped her upper arm. He’d seen Badimar using this gesture whenever other trainers worried about something. It seemed to work. She stared at his hand, blinking. At least she didn’t seem concerned anymore.

  He motioned her to wait in the room as he went for the door. As soon as he walked out, other sounds joined the alarm bells. Lion recognised them right away. Violent cries and howls of men, clashing echoes of swords…

  Sounds of a battle.

  Panicked screams of servants joined them too.

  Lion rushed to the end of the corridor. He didn’t want to wander too far away from his room. Not only because he wasn’t allowed to leave his room before dawn, but he was reluctant to leave Saradra alone as well.

  He didn’t have to go too far. He saw the intruders shortly after rounding the second corner.

  He hugged the wall to peek around the corner without revealing himself. Eight men. All fully armoured and carrying swords. They were wearing silver and blue tabards over their armour. Lion recognised the coat of arms on one of them; the fighting bear of House Vogros.

  Even a purebred slave who hardly paid any attention to the free men’s conversations had heard about House Vogros. They were the second strongest house in Chinderia, after House Zarall.

  What were Vogros men doing in the hallways of Castle Brinescar?

  He had his answer when one of the Vogros men kicked open a door. The servants inside the room screamed and three of the attackers walked in to quieten their screams. They came back out with more blood dripping off their swords and continued their advance down the corridor; towards Lion.

  Turning back, he broke into a sprint. He was picking up the sounds of other attackers as they made their way, clearing up the corridors one by one. They were organized. More battle cries and ringing swords joined the fight outside, but there was something wrong with them. Lion couldn’t put a finger on it, until he almost reached his corridor.

  They were confused.

  Brinescar was the capital of Chinderia. The Keep housed six hundred Zarall house guards, supported by the city guards outside. And they all sounded confused. Scattered. Disorganized.

  It didn’t make sense.

  Before he got to his room, another idea flashed in his mind. He stopped skidding in front of Badimar’s door and knocked it hesitantly. His stomach was churning with worry, but Badimar would’ve known what to do.

  Badimar had to know what to do.

  With some disappointment, Lion noticed that he needed him - he needed someone - to tell him what to do. It was the insecure, docile part of him, avoiding making decisions, seeking comfort behind compliance.

  He knocked on the door again, louder this time. Vogros men were approaching. Lion wanted to fight them. The battle sounds outside were boiling his blood. He wished to surrender to the red mist taking over his thoughts.

  He wanted Badimar to whisper his Kill Word and release him.

  However, the Master of the Beasts wasn’t answering, and the intru
ders were right around the corner. Lion gave up and dove into his room, closing the door quietly.

  “What’s going on?” Saradra whispered. The subtle tremble in her voice was giving away her horror. She’d put her dress on, and despite her panic, had found the time to comb her hair with her fingers as much as she could. For some reason, this made Lion want to kiss her.

  “Are we under attack?” she asked, begging for comfort with her eyes. “Who are they?”

  Lion swallowed. “House Vogros,” he muttered.

  “Are… Is this a coup or something?”

  Lion didn’t know what she meant. Grabbing her arm, he forced her to kneel down with him. He positioned her so they both faced the door.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Head up,” Lion whispered, tilting her chin up. “Show your tattoo. Eyes down. Don’t speak, don’t move, don’t even flinch…”

  Saradra caught his hand in hers. Her lips parted as if to ask something. A woman screamed in the corridor just outside. The attackers couldn’t have been further than two rooms.

  Saradra’s lips trembled. When Lion reached, she met him halfway in a passionate kiss. Lion pulled back and let go of her hand mere seconds before their door was kicked open.

  Next to Lion, Saradra flinched despite his warnings. Fortunately, she remembered to raise her chin up and show them her tattoo. Her hands trembled on her knees, yearning to hold Lion’s, but she kept them where they were.

  “Purebreds are valuable property,” Astaldo had said many times. In the face of attackers, unless ordered to do otherwise, purebreds were taught to surrender while showing their ink. All free men were greedy. They had no gain in butchering expensive slaves.

  Two men walked inside the narrow room, their shoulders touching each other’s. Their swords rose, glistening red.

  Saradra closed her eyes, but Lion keep his open, fixed on the ground. One of the men grabbed his hair, pulled his sword back. Lion could almost anticipate the cold steel slashing through his flesh, ripping his midsection open, spilling his blood, yet he still didn’t flinch.