Rebels of Vulvar (Vulvarian Saga Book 2)

by J. K. Spenser

  Emer and I followed the officer, ringed with her warriors, to the Hall of Government. Emer was angry, but I knew she wouldn’t renounce the pledge she had given the officer. As a warrior, she would not, and our chances of escape, if we had resisted, would have been small indeed. In all likelihood, the spears of the Nisan warriors would have transfixed our bodies within our first steps toward freedom. I respected the quiet efficiency of the warriors of Nisa. I had already experienced the professionalism of Vulvarian warriors during my time in Thiva.

  Vulvarians prided themselves on justice under their laws. I knew that if they dispensed true justice in Nisa, Emer and I would be acquitted. On Vulvar, they said the authority of a city ended at their gates. We had committed no offenses in Nisa. Crimes we had committed in Thiva were the concern of Thivans, not Nisans.

  After we had marched for perhaps twenty minutes through the drab, twisted streets of Nisa, its citizens parting to make way for us, we came to the broad winding avenue of black cobblestones I had trod during my first visit to Nisa. I recognized the stone walls on each side of the road that gradually ascended the closer we drew to the Hall of Government. I knew the way would shrink to a passage large enough for only a single person, and the walls would rise to a height of thirty feet or more by the time we arrived at the simple iron door.

  The officer motioned for me and then Emer to move to the front of the column while enough space remained between the walls. We were the first to approach the door with the officer and her warriors following in a single file.

  There was the sound of sliding bolts and the creak of the hinges as someone within opened the iron door. Emer and I were pressed forward by those following behind us. Inside, four new warriors with shields and spears took custody of us.

  “The Anax of Nisa is expecting you,” a warrior I assumed was an officer said.

  With the officer ahead and three warriors behind, we climbed the stone steps of a small, circular passageway. We emerged in a broad but dimly lighted room and then passed through another stone archway and continued through the familiar warren of corridors I recalled from my previous visit.

  At last we found ourselves in the large, vaulted hall, lit by torches set in the wall where I had met with the deputy Dabar when Cooke had been in power. Broad stone steps led to a throne, with three curule chairs on either side. Now an attractive woman with glittering blond hair sat on the throne. Females also sat on the curule chairs on either side of her, which I supposed were members of the High Council. All the females regarded me without expression.

  About the room, here and there, stood stern female warriors of Nisa in their blue tunics. The officer who had detained us at the gates stood before the steps that led up to the throne. Evidently, she had entered the hall ahead of us from another entrance.

  On the throne, the blonde woman appeared proud and lofty, almost arrogant. She wore majestic robes of golden cloth. No one had to tell me I was in the presence of Sola, Anax of Nisa.

  The officer at the foot of the throne removed her helmet. Her narrow eyes regarded me contemptuously. She strode forward and faced me.

  “Kneel,” she commanded. “You stand before Sola, Anax of Nisa. You must show respect.”

  When I did not kneel immediately, the officer kicked my feet from under me, and I crashed to the stone floor, helpless because of the shackles. The officer raised a whip and lay open my tunic and back with harsh strokes.

  “Do not strike him,” said Emer.

  The officer whirled and looked at her. “Hold your tongue, warrior,” she said. Turning to me, she raised the whip again.

  “Do not strike him,” said a commanding voice. The voice came from the Anax herself. I felt grateful.

  The officer dropped her hand, then seized me by the arm and pulled me up onto my knees. Hot and sweaty, every fiber in my back screaming in agony, I managed to stay upright.

  The Anax regarded me with curiosity.

  “Is it true, slave,” she said, her tone cold, “that you joined with the mutineers against my city?”

  My body racked with pain from the beating, and my vision blurred by sweat, I cast an angry stare at the woman.

  A woman seated on the curule chair to one side of the throne stood up. “Destroy the animal!” she said. “Impale him.”

  “Does the law of Nisa not give it the right to speak, councilor?” the Anax said in the same haughty tone she had used earlier.

  “Does the law recognize that a beast has rights?” the council member said. It was almost as if she challenged her Anax. She had not bothered to conceal the sarcasm in her tone.

  The Anax ignored the woman, and she sat down.

  “Has the slave still his tongue?” the Anax asked the officer beside me.

  “Yes, Anax,” she said.

  “Why did you not kneel, slave?” the Anax said.

  “I am not a slave,” I said.

  “You are a slave!” hissed the council member who had spoken earlier. “Remove his tongue immediately!”

  “Do you give orders to my officer?” the Anax said.

  “No, beloved Anax,” the woman said.

  “Slave?” the Anax said.

  I did not acknowledge her.

  “All males on Vulvar are slaves,” the Anax said patiently. “How is it you deny you are a slave?”

  “Not all, Anax,” I said. “Five years ago, I performed a service to the Goddess Queens. I pleased them, and they freed me. I am a free man.”

  “Preposterous,” said the haughty council member.

  “What service?” the Anax asked curiously.

  I told her in a few words.

  “You are that man?” the Anax asked incredulously. “You claim to be Tobias Hart? The son of the Anax of Thiva?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did not the Goddess Queens graciously return Tobias Hart to Earth after the mission you spoke of?” the Anax said. “If you are Tobias Hart, how is it you now kneel before me?”

  “The Goddess Queens brought me back to this world so I might perform another task for them,” I said.

  “Lies!” said the ill-mannered council member. “The beast mocks us with his lies!”

  A female appeared behind the throne. I assumed from the way style of her dress that she was an aide of some sort. She leaned in and whispered something to the Anax.

  The Anax nodded. “Where is the witness?” she said in a commanding voice.

  A figure stepped forward from the shadows at the side of the chamber. “Here, my Anax,” a male voice said.

  I glanced at the figure, and my blood ran cold. The man wore a purple tunic with a hood he held tightly about his head to conceal his face. It was the spy who had accosted me when I first arrived in Nisa.

  “Do you know this slave?” the Anax asked.

  “Yes, my Anax,” the spy said. “I met him in a trog tavern some weeks ago. He told me he was an escaped slave from Thiva.”

  The Anax regarded me coldly. Then she turned again to the man in the purple tunic.

  “What were the circumstances?” she said.

  “As you know, my Anax, I continued my duties as your agent while the knave Cooke unlawfully seized control of the city and cruelly imprisoned you,” the spy said. “My colleague and I kept a watch for all slaves entering the city. We endeavored to track those who joined Cooke’s rebellion.”

  “And did this slave join with the criminals?” the Anax said.

  “Yes, my Anax,” the spy said. “He told me he wished to get a sword that he might pledge to Cooke’s service. I offered him a bribe to determine whether he truly intended to do so. He gladly accepted it.”

  “Liar!” I said. “He left his purse on my table at the tavern and departed too swiftly for me to return it.”

  The officer beside me slapped me across the face with her whip. “Silence, slave!” she said.

  The Anax regarded me with annoyance. “Do not speak until spoken to, slave,” she said. “Another outburst like that, and I will command that offic
er to take you to the dungeon where she can properly whip you until you learn manners.” She turned back to the spy.

  “Did he join the criminals?” the Anax asked.

  “Yes, my Anax,” the spy said. “The same day he reported here to the so-called deputy Dabar. They accepted his service, and they assigned this man to the cohort as an archer. I saw him wearing the tunic of the rebels.”

  “Did you learn his name?” the Anax asked.

  “Yes, my Anax, from an informer in the cohort,” the spy said. “His name is Tom Gray, my Anax.”

  The Anax regarded me. “It seems your fanciful tale was a lie, slave,” she said. “Unless there is an agent of the Goddess Queens present to dispute it. I do not believe you are Tobias Hart.”

  “Tom Gray was an alias I used that the Goddess Queens gave me,” I said.

  The officer raised the whip.

  “Don’t strike him yet,” the Anax said to the officer. Then she regarded Emer.

  “You are a warrior of Nisa?” the Anax said.

  “Yes, Anax,” Emer stammered. “I am Emer.”

  “Did you not appear at the gates of this city claiming this slave as your own?” the Anax said.

  “Yes, Anax.”

  “Why?”

  “He is Tobias Hart, as he says,” Emer said. “I have met his mother, Laena, Anax of Thiva. He is a great warrior. Tobias Hart rescued seven captive Thivan warriors and me from Cooke’s stockade in this city. He has fought beside me against the rebels. He has slain dozens of rebels, and Tobias Hart single-handedly slew Cooke on the road to Thiva.”

  “More lies!” the impertinent council member shouted. “This is a waste of our time!”

  The Anax lifted her hand for silence.

  “Perhaps you lie to protect this slave, Emer,” the Anax said. “You lied to the guards at the gate, telling them he was your slave. Is that not true?”

  “I was indeed untruthful with the guards at the gate,” Emer said defensively. “I misrepresented the circumstances. I wished to help Tobias Hart enter the city to get provisions for a journey he intends to undertake.”

  “What journey?” the Anax said.

  Emer glanced at me. “He wishes to return to the Goddess Queens at Mount Voln,” she said.

  The council members murmured excitedly among themselves. “Blasphemy!” shouted the presumptuous council member. “No mortal can look upon the Goddess Queens and live! Lies and blasphemy!”

  “Quiet!” the Anax commanded. “Or, I will clear this chamber.” Looking at me, she said, “What do you have to say, slave?”

  “We have broken no laws of Nisa,” I said. “Release Emer, warrior of Nisa, and release me, Tobias Hart.”

  “I advise you to confess to the charges made by my agent,” the Anax said. “If you do, I may show you mercy. If you persist in lying before this council and me, it will not go well with you or your friend Emer.”

  “Is there justice in Nisa, Anax?” I asked. “It would be a simple matter for you to send an aide to the Anax of Thiva. She and many others in that city can verify that I am Tobias Hart and a free man. Or is your desire to condemn me based on the lies of your spy?”

  “I warn you, slave,” the Anax said. “Do not be insolent. You are trying my patience.”

  Sola, Anax of Nisa, drummed her fingers on the arms of the throne. Then she suddenly pointed her finger at Emer.

  “No matter how I rule concerning the male, you have violated the warrior’s code, Emer,” she said. “You attempted to smuggle him into the city, and you lied. I will prescribe punishment for you.”

  “I forced her,” I said.

  “What?” the Anax said.

  “I forced Emer to smuggle me into the city,” I said.

  “Officer, was this warrior armed when she appeared at our gates?” the Anax said.

  “Yes, my Anax,” the officer said. “And the slave was not armed.”

  “Then, how exactly did you coerce her to do your bidding, slave?” the Anax said.

  “The officer is mistaken,” I said. “I was armed and am still armed.”

  The officer laughed. “He lies, my Anax,” the officer said.

  “I have an assassin’s dagger inside my tunic,” I said. “I had it at the gate. I threatened Emer’s life if she refused to help get me into the city. She had no choice. We rode side by side to the gate. I could have stabbed her repeatedly before she could have drawn her rakir. I only gave her weapons before we approached the gate so as not to arouse the suspicions of the guards.”

  The Anax stared at me, open-mouthed. “Officer, check him for a weapon.”

  The officer was no longer laughing, and her face had paled. She pulled me to my feet and hastily checked inside my tunic. There she found the assassin’s dagger I’d taken off the body of a dead rebel. It was the only weapon I hadn’t left at Haela’s farm. The officer appeared ready to faint as she regarded the wicked-looking blade.

  “Warriors, arrest that officer,” the Anax cried. “She allowed a prisoner to bring a weapon into this chamber.”

  Two warriors swiftly approached the astonished officer and escorted her from the hall. I smiled to myself, thinking perhaps the officer who had whipped me might herself soon feel the lash on her back.

  “You think you’re very clever, slave,” the Anax said coldly. To the astonishment of all, she descended the broad steps from the throne. Shaking with fury, she stood before me. She bent down and picked up the whip dropped by the officer. Then, beside herself with rage, holding the whip in both hands, she lashed me madly. Again and again, she struck me. My senses reeled. My body felt as if it were aflame. Somehow, through it all, I stayed on my feet. When the Anax had exhausted herself, she threw the whip at my feet and mounted the dais. She sat down on the throne and arranged her golden robes.

  “Warriors!” she said. “Take these two prisoners to the dungeon. I will render my verdict later at my leisure.”

  Four stern warriors marched forward. Two grabbed my arms. The others seized Emer. They marched us from the hall.

  22

  Imprisoned

  The guards had hooded Emer and I and driven us stumbling down many twisting stairways and through dank smelling passageways. When at last they unhooded me, they shackled me to the stone wall of a tiny dungeon. To my astonishment, they thrust Emer into the same cell, though they did not shackle her. After barring the iron door, they left us.

  A small, foul-smelling oil lamp set into the wall near the ceiling lit the place. I had no idea how far below ground we might be. The floors and walls were of black stone, quarried in enormous blocks of perhaps one ton each. The lamp dried the stone near it, but there was dampness everywhere else and the unpleasant smell of mold throughout the cell.

  There was a scattering of straw on the floor. From where they had chained me, I could reach a cistern of water. A tin pan containing a half loaf of moldy brown bread lay near my feet. Exhausted, my body ached from the sting of the whip. I lay on the straw-covered stones wishing to sleep. My muscles ached, and my wounds tortured me when I moved.

  “You should not have told them about the dagger,” Emer chided. “They did not believe you forced me anyway.”

  “I realized the Anax would not free me,” I said. “I had hoped I might at least save you from further indignities.”

  “Yet here we are,” Emer smirked.

  I struggled to a cross-legged sitting position. Emer offered me bread from the pan. I chewed a bite of it.

  “I had hoped to dine this evening at the trog tavern where I met the spy during my first visit to your fair city,” I said.

  Emer laughed. “But it seems we must instead make do with moldy bread and water,” she said. Emer tore a strip of cloth from the hem of her tunic. After saturating it with water from the cistern, she knelt beside me and examined the wounds on my back. Her dark eyes regarded me, filled with concern.

  “Let me wash your wounds as best I can,” Emer said. “It might prevent infection.”

  The
re was a warmth in her, unlike anything I’d experienced anywhere else in the wretched city of Nisa. I gazed at her, and as if for the first time, realized how attractive I found her.

  “You are lovely,” I said.

  Emer looked at me and smiled, startled at my words, yet pleased. The tiny oil-lamp far above flickered on the walls and her beautiful face.

  Without speaking more, Emer washed my wounds. Then she sat next to me, and we ate more bread from the pan. Emer moved to the cistern. After clearing the green scum from the surface, in the palms of her cupped hands, she carried water to my parched mouth.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  After drinking a little herself, she returned to her previous place beside me and rested her head on my shoulder.

  “What will become of us?” Emer said.

  “I will not be kept in Nisa,” I said. “I have business with the Goddess Queens at Mount Voln.”

  “This is my fault,” Emer said. “I should have left you at the farm and came to the city alone to get the provisions.”

  “In hindsight, yes,” I said. “Neither of us could have foreseen the calamity that has befallen us.”

  “Perhaps not,” Emer said. “I wish we had that dagger now. We could have killed the guards when they return and perhaps escaped this wretched place.”

  I laughed. “Do you never tire of killing, Emer?” I said.

  She looked up at me and smiled. “No, not when someone threatens you, commander.”

  I was speechless.

  “If they release us, or we escape, I will not remain in this city,” Emer said firmly.

  “You must,” I said, “if they release you. As you know, on Vulvar, they consider a person without a city an outlaw.”

  “So be it,” Emer said. “You have no city. You’re already an outlaw. We can be outlaws together.”

  I laughed. “Yes, but the fall from slave to outlaw is not a far one,” I said. “You were a respected warrior until you had the misfortune of meeting me.”

  “You’re not a slave,” Emer said. “The Goddess Queens freed you. I still remember that story from five years ago. You were a hero throughout Vulvar.”