by Drake Dalton
Pain was transient.
She would survive her ordeal.
"Lorddd...," he prompted again, still clutching her chest.
"Lord Singh!" she gasped.
"There. You see how easy that was?" he asked, releasing her with a smile. "The world didn't end. The sky didn't fall. Your tongue didn't flame inside your head. If that's what I like to be called, where is the harm in a little mutual civility?"
I continued to flex my fingers.
Civility, he called it.
Mind break, more like.
The demands always started easy, but they escalated from there. Judging by the gleam in his eye, she was on a very slippery slope.
But the anger in my eye said that so was he.
#
The first time I saw her, I knew she was trouble. At the time, I didn't know how much. If fate had thrown her in my path to spark another confrontation with the Druids, that trouble would be measured by the boatload. I had to spring her fast and get out of there faster. I began to plan.
"Mutual civility?" Julie asked skeptically, then added his title when he looked at her and dropped his chin, freezing her with a cold glare.
"Mutual civility," he repeated, the false smile returning to his face. Placing his hands behind his back, he began to pace in front of her as he explained.
"Mutual civility is ideal. Now that we've decided to be civil, we can speak plainly. We can clear the air without further untoward tension. We can agree, for example, that you are new to this world. You have no family, no friends, no connections... no protection. You will serve in the fields or on the boats or at the looms or wherever my slave master decides until you wear out and die. This is a fact. With a body like yours, it is likely that you will also service those around you until you die, as well. This is also a fact. It simply hasn't yet happened. In the fullness of time, however, it will."
His voice remained calm and reasonable.
He spoke as if explaining the world to a child.
"But what of the fullness of life?" he asked, stopping in front of her. "Have you truly given any thought to that?"
"I don't understand... Lord Singh."
"One of my companions recently decided to rejoin the workforce," he said, then he briefly held up a hand. "No, don't blame her. It was her right to leave my personal service for the good of all, but now I require a replacement. Your figure is perfect, for lack of a better word, although that's hardly surprising since my needs were programmed into the reaper that brought you here. Your figure, however, it is not unique. You are one of many on your world. Should you choose to decline my offer and follow my former companion to the fields, I shall send out another reaper to locate the next candidate while you trundle off to begin, and end, a life of hardship and toil. So, why not delay the inevitable? Here, you have soft beds and plenty of food in exchange for work that you may come to enjoy. There, I can guarantee that you will not."
Julie was headed for trouble.
I could see that she wasn't buying his argument, but I could also see by the set of her shoulders that the lawyer in her thought she could work a deal—gain control, now that they were talking—negotiate with that monster to defuse the situation.
She'd forgotten the first words he'd said:
"I absolutely love stomping on all that fire and watching it slowly die."
There was no compassion in those hard blue eyes. Even now, his words had softened, but his stance remained the same. The talk was a ruse. He toyed with her, coaxing her proud spirit into the open so he could watch her eyes die as he callously crushed that spirit with one mind-numbing humiliation after another.
Unspeakable evils hidden by the perfect crime.
How many others had suffered the same fate?
"What could it possibly hurt?" he asked, pressing his argument with a saccharine smile. "You can always change your mind and join my former companion later, but once you're gone you can never come back. Is that truly the first card you wish to play? Why not give it a try before cutting off my hospitality?"
"You're proposing that I become a sex slave?"
She was only now figuring that out?
For someone so bright, she wore huge blinders.
"You are already a slave, as I said. That will not change. I simply offer a rare choice of assignments—an offer that will soon expire, I can assure you, and one that will not be repeated."
"If I say no, you'll just let me go to the fields?"
"Well... mostly, yes," he lied.
There'd be no fields for her, just as there'd been no fields for his previous companion—who'd likely been another dimensionally perfect victim from Earth before he'd killed her in his games.
Fucking Druids.
"What do you mean by mostly?"
The man opened his mouth to speak more lies, but he never had the chance. The mansion's main doors burst open. Indistinct shouting could be heard from the sentry outside as the footfalls of heavy boots rolled into the entryway, echoing up the stairwell as they crossed the floor. The inner doors opened and a pair of messengers in long brown overcoats entered the room below.
"My Lord, we come with news," a young man said.
Singh was not amused by the interruption.
Without lifting his eyes, he flicked a wrist.
A dark shadow the size of a circular saw blade raced across the room. It slammed into the messenger who spoke—ripping him violently in half.
Blood and gore splattered upon his fellow messenger and the guards standing to either side. None of them so much as flinched while the mangled pieces of the first messenger plopped to the floor.
"What's the matter with you?" Singh casually asked of the dead messenger. "Can't you see that I'm busy? Were you born in a barn?"
Julie couldn't see what had happened behind her, but she apparently got enough of the point for her skin to visibly pale, not that Singh noticed. He'd lifted his eyes and moved around the chair to approach the remaining messenger.
"Proper manners are ever so important," he said. "Waiting to be recognized before speaking is a common courtesy, would you not agree?"
"Of course, my lord," the man said, clicking his heels and bowing his head.
"Excellent. Now, do you have something to tell me, or was this critical information only known to that buffoon?" he asked, his lip curling as he glanced toward the mess on the floor.
"The slaves are revolting, my lord."
"Most of them are, yes," Singh agreed.
"They have attacked the granary. A small group has also split off and overpowered the guards at the armory. We were instructed to let you know."
"Oh, that kind of revolting," Singh said. He shook his head as he became momentarily lost in thought. "Why do these things always occur when I have other things to occupy my mind?"
The messenger correctly assumed the question to be rhetorical. He kept his silence, and his head.
"Has the patrol returned from the city?" Singh finally asked.
"Not to my knowledge, Lord Singh."
"Very well, we'll take care of this on our own," he said. Looking at the guard on the right, he added, "Toss this thing out back, then call housekeeping. Have them bring a bucket and clean this up. After that, escort my new companion down to the game room. You can strap her in, but don't you dare even think about starting without me. Understood?"
He waited for the man to nod, then looked to the messenger and the other guard.
"While the night is still young, gentlemen," he said with a nod. "Let's move."
#
The self-proclaimed Lord Singh stomped across the unseen entryway floor and out the front door. The clattering footfalls of two sidekicks hustling along in his wake echoed up the stairwell behind me. I waited for the sounds to completely fade before leaving my spot overlooking the throne room and backtracking to the stairs.
The sentry who remained behind was none too happy about his assignment. He ignored Julie as he tried to figure out how to scoop up the bigges
t pieces without adding to the mess. His dejected mutterings were soon lost to my ears.
Swift and silent, I moved down the wide steps of a modestly grand staircase, following it as it swept around to the right. A marble entry chamber opened out on the other side of a white railing beside me. An elegant chandelier dominated most of that chamber, with the main doors polished to a high gloss and a matching staircase sweeping up on the opposite side; but it was nothing in that entryway that stopped my feet halfway down the stairs. It was a gleaming suit of plate mail standing in a recessed alcove to my left.
I'd seen the medieval clutter back in the hallway, but hadn't given it a second thought. In my defense, I'd been busy at the time and that had been useless clutter. This, on the other hand, was a genuine work of art.
No, not the plate mail.
My eyes were drawn to the elegant greatsword that the cheap suit of armor held point-down in front.
She was five feet of double-edged steel forged in a flamberge style, with a wide crossguard that looked almost fragile, a hilt that was as long as my forearm, and a subtle undulation to the blade that made her edges glitter like they were afire.
A smile tugged at my lips.
"Hello there," I said softly. "And who might you be?"
She didn't answer, of course.
She had too much class to talk with strangers.
Tucking Julie's clubs into my belt, I walked to the alcove and reached for the sword.
"You don't mind if I borrow this, do you?" I asked the empty knight as I lifted his gauntlets from the hilt. He clanked more than I would have liked while surrendering his prize, but I didn't blame him after holding her for the first time. She was a rare beauty, light and agile and built for war. Too many of her sisters were clunky and heavy, forged for the ceremonial parade grounds with no thought to motion or balance, but not her. She'd seen her share of battles. After such a long sleep, I felt she was ready for one more.
While I continued to admire her, the inner door suddenly rattled, then sprang open. Still muttering, the sentry in black stepped through, eyes down and struggling with his load. He toted an awkward bundle wrapped in a long brown overcoat An arm hung out of one end and a leg stuck out the other.
With no chance of retreating unseen, I attacked.
I finished the steps in three strides and charged the man, sword high—
Too high.
Nine feet above the floor, the tip crashed into the chandelier. I nearly lost the grip as it rebounded to an awkward angle over my shoulder, but clamped down and held tight. Racing forward, I closed in on my target with the tip clattering noisily through the hanging crystals.
The guard finally looked up, waking to the danger. His eyes widened and his face went pale. Dropping the package, he clawed for his gun.
The blade whistled down.
She cut him in half, but not before he screamed.
"Damn," I muttered, freeing the blade and cursing silently as I retreated to the main door. I'd hoped to take care of things quietly, but a bout of nostalgia combined with my wandering attention cost me the element of surprise. The front guard had surely heard that scream. He'd be charging through that door at any moment.
Facing the door, I dropped the tip and flexed my fingers for a better grip.
I prepared to receive company.
But it never came.
Had Singh taken that guard with him, as well?
I waited longer, just in case, but after spending so much time in that pose that I began to feel foolish, I relaxed and counted myself lucky. Stepping around the slick mess that had pooled on the marble floor, I entered the throne room to free the maiden and get the hell out of the city before anything else went wrong.
#
"About bloody time!" Julie said over her shoulder when she saw me step into the room. "What kept you?"
"You didn't exactly drop bread crumbs," I told her, but—
"Stop!" she cried.
I whirled, springing back from the door at the same time and snapping the sword up to a guard position as I readied for an attack—but nothing came through the doorway.
It was completely empty!
"Quit clowning around," she growled.
"But you said—"
She snorted. "I said nothing of the sort. I said to stop. I did not say to spin around and start foolishly swinging that silly thing around, Mister Edged Weapons Specialist. I wanted to warn you to keep your eyes where they belonged when you cut me loose, that's all."
"You what?" I asked, disbelief coloring my voice.
"My shirt's open. Just you mind your manners."
A sigh escaped my lips.
She was certainly in a lovely mood.
I relaxed and shook my head, hefting the sword onto my shoulder. It had a generous ricasso above the crossguard, so my neck was in no danger from the unsharpened steel at the base of the blade. Whether or not it was in danger from the woman whose false modesty had apparently forgotten the lengths she'd gone to in seducing me an hour ago was another matter.
"Boys and their toys. Where did you find that ugly monstrosity, anyway? You look ridiculous. You're going to hurt yourself playing around with that thing," she said, but then she hastily shook her head. "Never mind. Do what you want. Just hurry up and cut me loose. I want to be long gone before they get back."
"Yes, ma'am."
My new sword made short work of the leather straps that bound her to the chair. Her mouth zipped along in overdrive the whole time. I'd forgotten that about her. It was unlikely that she'd remember even a quarter of the things that came from her mouth, but everyone had their own way of coping with stress. Hers involved copious amounts of words filling the air.
Mine was more productive.
Retrieving one of her clubs with my free hand, I held it out after she fixed her jacket.
"Here," I said. "Take this. It'll settle your nerves."
She finished up, then stood and took the club.
But her tug pulled at a wrist that forgot to let go.
"Oh, um... sorry," I said—stunned, but blinking quickly to pull my wits back together. Looking down, I found the second club in my belt and passed that one over, too.
I'd forgotten how pretty she was.
Actually, no... I remembered how pretty she was, but I'd forgotten that she kept getting prettier every time I saw her. This time was no exception—even with puffy eyes that did their best to pretend she hadn't been crying, tangled curls that were badly in need of a good brushing, and porcelain cheeks that still bore a certain bastard's inexcusable mark.
It was a crime that I couldn't stick around to kill that vile worm, but she was right. It was past time for her to be somewhere else.
"Come on," I said. "And watch your feet. I left a mess out there."
But she was not the one who replied.
"You certainly did."
I turned to the sound of the voice.
Singh stood in the doorway.
He was not pleased.
#
"I take it you're the one responsible for all this," Singh said, moving inside the room. Two men in black suits—the dead man's friend and the sentry from outside—hurried through the door behind him and took up positions on the lowest of the four steps in front, but the messenger in the long brown coat peeked over his shoulder from the safety of the door. "I would rather that you not handle that particular item," he added. "You have no idea what it cost."
"Yes, I do, as a matter of fact," I said, "but I don't know what you paid for it five hundred years later."
I took a couple of easy steps to my right as I spoke, blocking Julie's view. She trembled with rage, her knuckles white. This would be hard enough without her doing something rash.
Rash was my prerogative.
"I was referring to the girl," Singh said drolly.
I snorted, advancing the sword to a modified horn guard position, my right palm casually riding the pommel. I had to hand it to the master who made her. The sword had g
reat balance.
"I thought you said she was just another slave," I remarked. "Don't tell me that you lied?"
"You heard that?" Julie asked from behind me, her rage instantly vanishing like a popped soap bubble. "How long were you listening?"
"Not long," I replied, keeping my eyes on the guys up front. They were both wary, itching to pull their guns and start blasting. When that happened, I'd need to remember that lead repelled magnetic fields, unlike other metals. I couldn't let Julie get hit by any deflected bullets shot at me while I charged—
But Julie refused to stay put.
Stepping up to my right, she glared at the side of my face. "How long is that?" she demanded. "What did you see? Where were you hiding, pervert?"
"You want to talk about this now?"
In the old days, damsels had been easier to rescue.
"How long?" she repeated.
"Not long. Really!"
"Now who's lying?" Singh asked, more amused than annoyed. "I am beginning to understand why you are here. You sound like an old married couple."
"Married!" she yelped. "We're not married."
But his comment gave me an idea.
Singh wanted to know our relationship. Now that he'd mentioned it, the others would wonder the same. With four-to-one odds, they'd be brave. Their attacks would be sure, especially with a comrade to avenge. Could I convince them of a different relationship, one that might cut the odds and make them question their tactics?
"Look," I said to Julie, "just get behind me, okay?"
"But—"
"No buts! I know I said that you were ready to take these guys down on your own, but if the Druids are involved, the situation has changed. We don't have time to fool around. We need to go back and report in. I'll handle these. You handle the next pit of vipers we come across."
"But—"
"No! No more buts or you'll start your training again from Day One. Now, get back."
"But—" she said again, but then she gave up and did as she was told, thoroughly confused.
She wasn't the only one.
