Chapter
17: Selmat-mal-Zenar
Selmat-mal-Zenar stepped
back from the remnants of the Hector’s
guard. “Kill them,”
he ordered, “and throw their bodies over the
edge.”
“Wait,” Guered-mal-Far
shouted. “We lay down our
arms. My guard is not your
enemy. You cannot kill such brave
men.”
“It is precisely because
they are your guard that they must die, your lordship,” Selmat
sneered. “They are too well
known for me to successfully hide all of them as
slaves. It is much more expedient
to simply get rid of them.”
“No,” Guered
screamed. “Kill me if you
must, but let them live. I will
order them to serve you.” He
strained at his bonds. He was
on his knees, his wrists tied behind his back and secured to his
ankles. Selmat had ordered every
man stripped of his armour and bound as soon they had thrown down their
weapons. They were lined up in
a long row, tied just as he was and helpless to prevent Selmat’s orders
from being carried out. The exception
was the two barbarian females. They
had been tied also, but they were crouched a few yards to one side where
several of Selmat’s soldiers watched them, a task they no doubt found
most pleasurable considering that they had suffered the loss not just of
their weapons and armour, but all of their clothing as
well. However, their faces showed
not the faintest hint of fear; only anger at what had been done to
them. They stared straight ahead
doing their best to ignore the lascivious comments of the men who guarded
them.
“Kill you?” Selmat
grinned. “Oh no I intend
that you live a long life. A
long and painful life.”
“What good will that
do?” Guered snarled.
“You cannot keep your treachery secret if you keep me
alive.”
“Treachery?”
Selmat’s voice rose in anger.
“It is not I who betrayed
Thar. It is you, the desert scum
who murdered his way to power and then sought to destroy the fabric of our
society. Your so-called reforms
will end and slaves will once again be treated like the cattle they
are.” He turned his head
toward the soldiers guarding Guered’s
men. “Kill them and say
a prayer to Zemov as you toss their bodies into the Fountain of
Dreams.”
“You will die for
this,” Guered shouted.
“The gods will see that
you suffer eternal punishment for such a crime.”
“Kill them,” Selmat
repeated, gesturing toward the helpless
prisoners. “Do it
now.”
Selmat’s men moved
forward. It was plain that some
of them found the task of killing helpless prisoners distasteful, but they
did it nevertheless, dispatching each of the bound men with ruthless
efficiency.
Guered’s men cursed
and swore at their killers, but not one begged for his
life. They bravely faced the
horror of being slaughtered like goats; a few of them even calling out words
of loyalty to Guered before they died.
None of this made the least bit of difference to Selmat who watched
impassively until the last of Guered’s guard was heaved over the stone
balustrade and into the swirling waters far below.
“Kill me too,”
Guered demanded. “If you
do not I will take vengeance for the crime you have committed even if it
takes me to the end of my life.”
“I have something much
better planned for you than death, my dear Guered,” Selmat
sneered. “Something you
will endure to your dying day.”
Guered did not answer, refusing
to give Selmat the satisfaction of a reply, but someone else
did. “You are a true
coward,” Shailaja said.
“You kill helpless prisoners and taunt those who cannot fight
back. It is as Guered has said,
the gods will punish you.”
The conversation between
Selmat and Guered had all been in Tharian, but Shailaja had picked up enough
of the language to follow most of the
exchange. However, she did not
speak the language well enough and had made her comment in the Common
Tongue.
Selmat looked at her in
surprise, caught off guard by her
outburst. But he did not remain
silent long. “The bitch
can talk and dares speak to me as if she were my
equal. She will quickly learn
that is not the case. I have
special plans for the two barbarian whores as well; plans that will suit
them much better than the arena.”
Selmat had replied in the
Common Tongue, apparently for the benefit of the two women and he continued
in that language. “Shall
I tell you what my plans are for the three of
you? It is something I think
you will all find most unpleasant.”
Without waiting for an answer
Selmat went on. “For you,”
he said to Guered, “I have the most fitting
punishment. “You will be
my permanent guest; placed on display for all to gaze upon in horror and
pity. I know what you are thinking;
that if I take you back to Thar as my prisoner your supporters will demand
you be freed. But I have a simple
remedy for that. Before we return
you will be so changed that anyone who looks upon you will be instantly
repulsed.”
Selmat warmed to his topic,
pacing back and forth in front of his prisoners as he
spoke. “First I am going
to take personal pleasure in flogging you until you can barely
stand. Then you will watch as
my men pleasure themselves with your barbarian
pets. It will be the first of
many such sessions until they are broken and then put to public use in the
brothels of Thar.
It will then be my pleasure
to take away your hearing and then your
sight. I will leave you the power
of speech that you might beg me for mercy as your fingers are amputated one
by one. And then I will have
your tongue torn out. You will
be rendered deaf, dumb, blind, and unable to kill
yourself. You will remain that
way until I tire of looking upon your wretched carcass and put you out of
you misery.
Most wonderful of all, no
fault for any of this will fall upon me.
Instead I will place the full blame upon the two
barbarians. I will be quite readily
believed when I inform the people of Thar of their
guilt. They have already demonstrated
their cruel and violent nature and no one will believe anything they say,
especially when the men of my guard swear that it was they who so brutally
savaged you.”
Selmat ended his oration
with a triumphant grin. “As
you see, I have thought of everything.
There is no way any blame will be attached to me; in fact I will be
applauded for bringing the barbarian sluts who mutilated you to
justice.”
“No one will believe
such lies,” Guered responded.
“You will be found out and punished.”
“So you think,”
Selmat sneered. “And you
might be right. But by they time
they do I will be Hector of Thar.
And my rule will not be as weak as you have shown yourself to
be.” He turned to one of
his soldiers. “Prepare him,
Veltan. The first part of his
punishment starts now.”
Veltan barked out orders
and several men seized Guered. They
dragged him over to the marble balustrade overlooking the thundering waters
that Selmat had named the Fountain of
Dreams. It made a convenient
place to tie the helpless Hector for the punishment he was to
receive. The area was wet from
the cloud of mist thrown up by the huge plume of water, but Selmat’s
soldiers ignored it as they bound Guered’s so that each of his arms
were secured to the marble banisters.
It left him looking toward the fountain, his back exposed to Selmat.
“Strip him,” Selmat
ordered.
His soldiers carried out
his orders, tossing the garments over the railing as they removed each piece
of clothing. Helpless, Guered
could only wait for the painful and humiliating punishment he was about to
receive.
“Get those two ready
as well,” Selmat commanded, gesturing toward Shailaja and
Vasanta. “They are
filthy. If they are going to
be enjoyed they may as well be clean.”
Like Guered there was little
that the two women warriors could do as their ankles were untied and several
soldiers escorted them toward a small waterfall that trickled down the
mountainside next to the entrance to the
cavern. Their wrists were still
bound and there were too many armed men around them to chance an escape.
Shailaja was not much inclined
to attempt an escape in any case.
She knew a helpless situation when she was in
one. Surrounded by guards and
with her wrists tightly bound any resistance would simply get her
beaten. She was sore beyond almost
anything she had experienced, and not just between her legs, but also from
the numerous bruises, abrasions, and cuts she had suffered in the battle
with the Goblins. The place where
the Goblin spear had pierced her thigh throbbed steadily, a trickle of blood
still dripping from the wound.
Vasanta was not in much
better shape. She limped from
where a Goblin stone hammer had struck her thigh, leaving a bloody
bruise. During her captivity
the wound had stiffened, making walking
difficult. But she made it to
the waterfall along with Shailaja and immersed herself in the
water.
It was a welcome relief
for both women. The heat and
humidity of the area near the falls made any activity exhausting and the
battle with the Goblins had sapped even their great
endurance. They stood under the
falls and let the water wash away the blood and grime that covered
them. There was no way to wash
themselves properly with their hands bound, and the circle of soldiers watching
them left no doubt about what was going to happen to them once they were
deemed clean enough.
Selmat was so eager to punish
his hated rival, however, that he did not wait for the women warriors to
finish their ablutions. Brandishing
an improvised whip of braided leather, he moved behind
Guered. “Hector of Thar,”
he sneered. “Let’s
see just how much of a man you are.”
Much more of a man
that you,
Shailaja
thought. But she said nothing
and watched Selmat bring the whip down.
He struck with the full weight of his body behind the blow, opening
an ugly welt across Guered’s back.
The Hector gasped in pain, but made no further sound until the fifth
blow. He let forth a low moan,
but that was all until Selmat delivered a further ten
lashes. Then he screamed and
screamed again at the next five blows, until Selmat finally tossed down the
whip.
“That will be enough
for now,” he gloated. “I
want you conscious. It would
be a shame to spare you the spectacle of your two barbarians as they are
taught their proper place. And
then there is what I have planned for you
tomorrow. I want you wide awake
and alert when I take out your eyes and
ears. But for now you can enjoy
watching my men enjoy themselves.”
He swept his gaze to the
two warrior women. Cleansed of
the blood and gore that coated their bodies they were actually quite beautiful,
or at least as beautiful as two women covered with bruises and abrasions
could be, provided their tangled hair and savage demeanour could be
ignored. However, what they were
going to be subjected to by his men in the next few hours would go a long
way to taming them. He nodded
toward the captain of his guards.
“Enjoy yourself, and don’t be too
gentle. I want these barbarian
bitches broken. Just make sure
they are able to walk tomorrow when we return to
Thar.”
Veltan grinned his
agreement. “I assure you,
my lord that they will be most well used.
They will have a very long night, but will still be well enough to
march back to Thar to face their new
life.”
Several men had removed
Guered from where he had been bound, reversing his body so that he now faced
toward the entrance to the cavern and the place where Shailaja and Vasanta
were to receive their punishment and
degradation. He was forced to
his knees and bound with his hands behind his back, a most unnecessary measure
in Shailaja’s estimation, considering how badly he had been
beaten. He now had a full view
of the place Selmat’s men had prepared for Shailaja and Vasanta’s
ordeal.
There wasn’t much to
it; only a space just inside the cavern away from the damp of the perpetual
spray and mist of the fountain.
Several cloaks had been spread on the ground, more for the comfort
of the men who intended to use the two woman than to ease the trial Shailaja
and Vasanta would be subjected to.
Several men dragged the
women from the waterfall. Dripping
with water they were dragged into the cavern and hauled over to where Veltan
waited. “A bit slippery,”
he observed as he removed his armour, and stared at the water glistening
on the skin of the two women. The
late afternoon sun shone brightly through the entrance to the cavern,
silhouetting their magnificent bodies against the
entrance. “A bit
slippery,” he repeated, “but I don’t mind getting wet for
a little pleasure.”
Shailaja stared unflinchingly
at the man who was about to rape her.
Her lip curled in a sneer that slowly turned into a
smile. From out of the corner
of her eyes she saw Vasanta turn slightly toward
her. The Nahn Princess’s
eyes widened in puzzlement for a heartbeat and then she too began to
grin.
Standing to one side, Selmat
frowned in anger. “What
is so amusing? Are you so looking
forward to having a hundred men between your legs?”
Shailaja did not
answer. Outside the cavern she
could hear the thrumming of a million
wings. Her smile widened in the
knowledge that she knew something Selmat and his men did
not.
Several of the soldiers
stared nervously toward the entrance.
“What is that noise?” Selmat
demanded. Drawing his sword he
stepped toward the opening.
It was now almost dark as
the sun dipped behind the western rim of the
mountains. Still on his knees
Guered began to laugh.
“It’s sundown, Selmat, and you have waited a bit too long
to take your vengeance on these warriors.
I suggest you prepare to defend yourself.”
He chuckled grimly as the sound of wings was replaced by that of footsteps; thousands of footsteps.
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