Chapter
20: The
Surrounded by enemies, Shailaja
and her companions knelt upon the deck, their arms tightly
bound. Now that the heat of battle
had passed Shailaja was acutely aware of her
injuries. Blood trickled from
the wounds in her shoulder and thigh and her head throbbed from the blow
she had received from the spear.
However, she ignored the pain, focusing instead on her
situation.
There was no chance of
escape. The soldiers that guarded
her seemed very aware of her abilities, and in spite of the fact that she
was tightly bound they kept their spearpoints turned toward
her. Vasanta and Guered were
similarly guarded, leaving no hope of any assistance from
them. She could only watch helplessly
as her captors decided what was to be done with
them. She had little doubt that
whatever was decided it would not be pleasant, a view that was affirmed by
the obvious anger of her captors.
The deck of the warship was littered with the bodies of the Seldaran
soldiers and sailors that had died in the battle and the moans and cries
of the wounded sounded all around them.
In addition, dozens of dead and wounded slaves lay where they had
fallen in the savage battle. Given
the damage caused by the uprising she had led she was surprised that the
Seldarans had not put her and her companions to death
immediately.
She supposed that the
reason she was still alive was due to the fact that as a slave she was valuable
property as were Vasanta and Guered.
But she didn’t doubt that there would be some sort of violent
retribution.
Several of her captors gestured
toward her and her companions and although she could not understand what
was being said their tone of voice and gestures made it more than clear that
there was some discussion of their fate.
Finally one of the men turned from the others and crossed the deck
to stand in front of them. Shailaja
had singled him out earlier and nicknamed him “Green Plume” on
account of the exotic bird plumage that adorned his
helmet. That, and the fine quality
of his armour and the way the other Zeldarans deferred to him indicated that
he was someone of high rank.
He glared at them and then
spoke a few words. Not understanding
a single thing that was said, Shailaja and the others said
nothing. Guered stared straight
ahead while both Shailaja and Vasanta met the man’s eyes in obvious
defiance. The lack of a reply
or perhaps their rebellious stares seemed to anger the
man. He stepped forward and struck
first Shailaja and then Vasanta with his
fist. Unable to move, both warriors
had no choice but to receive the blow, but neither flinched as their heads
were rocked back.
The cowardly punch caught
Shailaja high on her cheekbone, opening the skin below her eye and causing
her to see double for a few heartbeats.
The blow was made all the more severe due to the fact that her assailant
was wearing mailed gloves, however, she refused to cower before him raising
her head as soon as she was able as if daring him to strike her
again.
From the corner of her eye
she could see that Vasanta was equally
defiant. Unlike Shailaja, however,
Vasanta refused to receive her punishment in
silence. She roundly cursed the
officer in her own language in spite of the fact that he was probably incapable
of understanding a word. Her
tone of voice was more than enough to convey her meaning, however, and the
officer stepped forward as if to strike her again and then stopped as another
man called out to him.
What had been said to him
was a mystery, but the officer nodded his head in agreement and then smiled
toward the three captives. Whatever
had been said to him seemed to give him some amusement and Shailaja expected
that she would soon find out what it was.
Green Plume barked out orders and immediately Shailaja and her companions
were hauled to their feet. They
were marched only a short distance, to the middle of the ship’s deck,
where they were once again forced to their
knees.
They were held there under
guard and watched while a number of the recaptured slaves were paraded onto
the deck. Most of these were
slaves who had fled during the early stages of the
battle. For the most part they
were unmarked and many of them were women as
well. Among them was Narda who
had somehow survived her ocean swim.
True to her nature she could not resist jeering at Shailaja and
Vasanta. “See where your
stupid plan has gotten you?
You’re still slaves, only now you’re about to be punished
for daring to escape. Serves
you right. I hope they flog you
until your ribs show.”
Her outburst was not well
received by the men who were guarding the
slaves. One of them drove the
butt of his spear into her stomach, quickly shutting her
up. She doubled up, gasping for
air and kept her mouth shut after that.
In all a score of slaves were paraded on
deck. Shailaja guessed that they
were there to witness the punishment of her and her companions; something
that would serve as a warning to the other
slaves. She expected that
Narda’s comment about a flogging was probably very close to the
mark.
It turned out, however,
that Narda was only partially correct.
They were to be punished, but not by flogging.
The first hint Shailaja
had of that was when two slaves hauled a metal brazier up on
deck. It was immediately filled
with hot coals from the galley and then charcoal was
added. Air was forced through
the fuel with a bellows and within a few hundred heartbeats the hot coals
glowed bright red even in the glare of the tropical
sun.
Shailaja watched all of
this with an air of complete detachment.
If her captors expected her to show fear they were badly disappointed
as it more than obvious what was going to happen, something that was confirmed
as an iron rod was inserted into the hot
coals. The iron was about a yard
long, and before it had been plunged into the coals Shailaja noticed that
there was some sort of symbol formed from twisted metal on the end that was
being heated.
“Bastards.” The word came from Guered speaking
through clenched teeth.
“We’re going to be
branded. They are going to mark
us as …ugh!”
Guered’s words were
cut off as one of their guards drove a boot into his
midriff. The guard snarled something
in his incomprehensible language, but the order to shut up was
clear. It didn’t matter
much to Shailaja what the symbol meant, only that she was to be marked in
a manner both painful and dishonourable.
To wear such a mark would shame her much more than the pain it brought
her, but there seemed nothing she could do to prevent what was going to
happen.
Green Plume noticed the
commotion and laughed. His reaction
was emulated by a few of the others.
But there was no humour in the laughter; only a desire for
vengeance. Realizing what was
going to happen, Vasanta attempted to struggle to her
feet. Short of jumping overboard
there was little she could have done to save
herself. She was cuffed on the
head by one of the guards and dropped to her knees once more, where she was
restrained by the same guard, who placed his hands on her
shoulders.
Shailaja watched impassively
as the bellows again forced air through the coals in the
brazier. It wouldn’t be
long before the iron was hot enough.
She had seen all of this before and hardly needed Guered to tell her
what was going to happen. The
marking of captives was something she had witnessed on several occasions
as the victims of some of the cities she had helped sack were auctioned off
to the slavers who followed the predatory armies that ravaged many regions
of Vedra. It was a practice she
had not cared much for, but had done nothing to prevent when she had followed
the mercenary life. That had
been before she had awakened to the darkness of her former profession, but
it now seemed that Marana had decided to inflict upon her the same pain she
had helped inflict upon others.
With the bellows blowing
the coals into a white heat it took only a few hundred heartbeats for the
iron to reach the desired temperature.
Green Plume took it out and held it up so that all could see the bright
red glow of the iron. Then, his
face twisting into a mask of cruel anticipation, he advanced upon his helpless
victims. He stopped for a few
moments in front of Shailaja, taunting her by moving the heated iron to within
a hand’s breadth of her face.
The men on either side of her held her fast, gripping her arms to
prevent the expected struggle.
Shailaja could feel the heat of the iron on her face, but instead
of cringing she stared her defiance, seeming to dare the sneering Seldaran
officer to carry out his threat.
Green Plume turned to his
colleagues and said something that got another laugh and then he turned back
and quickly lowered the iron, touching it to her left breast just above the
nipple. Searing white hot pain
of incredible intensity shot through
Shailaja. A dark haze descended
over her eyes and for an instant she thought she would faint, but she was
too strong to enjoy that mercy and was forced to endure while Green Plume
held the iron to her tender flesh for several
heartbeats. There was a sound
like that of raw meat being thrown onto an iron grill and the stench of burned
flesh assailed her nostrils, a stink made all the worse by the knowledge
that it was her flesh that was burning.
The sudden and cowardly
assault caught her unprepared and she was unable to prevent a sharp cry from
escaping her lips. She instantly
bit it back, but she had given Green Plume the satisfaction he
wanted. Stepping back he plunged
the iron back into the coals in preparation for his next
victim.
Tears of pain poured from
Shailaja’s eyes, but she kept herself upright, staring fixedly ahead
as she fought pain that it easily rivalled anything that had been done to
her. Even the cruel torture suffered
at the hands of Gorvag, the treacherous warlord who had murdered her lover
did not exceed the white hot agony of her
branding. Her head spinning,
she clenched her teeth a fought to keep from screaming as she endured the
agonizing throbbing of her scorched flesh.
She was not alone in her
pain for long. Green Plume branded
Guered next, selecting almost the same spot on the former Hector’s
chest. Guered had the advantage
of seeing what had been done to Shailaja and he was better prepared for the
ordeal, but she still let out a moan as the hot iron was pressed against
his flesh. As before Green Plume
held the iron against his chest for several heartbeats and Guered swayed
as he almost fainted, but like Shailaja he was too strong to escape that
way and panted in pain as the iron was withdrawn.
Then it was Vasanta’s
turn. Forewarned by what had
happened to Shailaja and Guered she knew her
fate. Shailaja expected her to
fight against her captors, but instead she went completely calm fixing her
eyes on some distant spot and waiting placidly for Green Plume to carry out
his torture. There was the now
familiar hiss as the hot iron touched her flesh, accompanied by the stink
of burned meat, but she seemed not to notice, maintaining position with stoic
disregard for what was being done to her.
The only indication of her suffering was the rapid panting of her
breath as the iron was withdrawn.
In spite of her lack of
response, Green Plume seemed pleased by his
punishment. He returned the iron
to the brazier and then turned to the slaves who had been forced to witness
the ceremony. Of the twenty selected
only Narda’s face showed the slightest hint of
satisfaction. In fact the lesson
was not lost on any of them that they might be next and they waited in fear
to see if they too were to be made examples
of. However, Green Plume spoke
only a few harsh words, no doubt reinforcing his message and then ordered
his soldiers to take them away. He
then turned back to the three slaves he had branded.
By this time a bit of a
reaction had set in.
Vasanta’s and Guered’s faces were pale and they swayed as
if they were close to collapse.
Shailaja appeared even worse, but her condition was not entirely due
to her injuries or the shock of her
branding. She was once again
fighting the ravages of seasickness, the malady having returned now that
she was once again a captive. She
slumped forward, fighting hard not to vomit, and had to be partly supported
by her captors.
Green Plume stepped forward
once again and inspected his handiwork.
Seeming satisfied he nodded and shouted out another
order. The three captives were
hauled to their feet, probably in preparation for joining the other slaves
below decks. However, he had
one more level of humiliation planned for his captives or at least for Shailaja
and Vasanta.
He motioned to the men holding
the two women and they were hauled forward, leaving Guered behind with his
two guards. Still bound, there
was little either warrior could do even if they had not been half unconscious
from pain. Dragged before Green
Plume they could only watch helplessly as he unlaced his breeches leaving
little doubt as to what the next level of their ordeal was to
entail.
For Shailaja and Vasanta
being used against their will was a humiliation to equal the
branding. They struggled to escape
as Green Plume and another of his officers prepared to take
them. But tied at the elbows
and held by two strong men, there was no escape for either of the desperate
women. Green Plume forcefully
parted Shailaja’s thighs and even as she continued to struggle he gripped
her hips and thrust forward.
He took Shailaja hard, forcing
himself deep within her, more interested in giving her a lesson than enjoying
her. Even so, he seemed well
satisfied, grunting with pleasure at every thrust and taking his time as
he used her. Compared to the
pain of her branding and that of her other wounds, the rape was minor, especially
as her assailant was not particularly well
endowed. But the humiliation
of being so used hurt her as much or more than the
branding. As on the other occasions
when she had been so used, however, there was nothing she could do except
wait for it to end and hope that her ordeal would finally be
over.
Vasanta was treated similarly,
the officer using her taking a little longer before he was
finished. The Nahn princess gasped
with every stroke and as her assailant finally finished with her was left
on her knees, panting from exertion and filled with anger and
shame. Neither she nor Shailaja
had been broken, but they knelt with heads down, no longer able to look at
the triumphal sneers of the men around
them.
Shailaja burned with a fury
that temporarily eclipsed the pain of what had been done to
her. As she had on previous occasions
she vowed to make her captors pay.
But the prospect of vengeance seemed a very remote
possibility. Thus it was with
a sense of disbelief that she felt the ropes holding her arms being
loosened.
Are
they such
fools? she
wondered. But it appeared that
they were and within a few heartbeats she understood
why. Coming toward her was a
slave bearing heavy sets of chains.
The ropes were to be replaced with iron, and her submissive position
seemed to have convinced her captors that for the moment she was too weak
to be a threat. It was not surprising
that they thought her beaten.
Wounded, burned, and then violated as she had been, no normal woman
would have presented any danger.
However, they had underestimated her and that was a mistake that she
was quick to use to her advantage.
Controlling her impulse to immediately attack, she waited a few moments
as the last of the ropes fell away from her arms, giving her blood time to
flow back into her limbs. To
her guards her docility further lulled them into
inaction.
There was one more reason
for delaying any action. From
the corner of her eye Shailaja could see the men guarding Vasanta and Guered
removing their bindings as well. As
the last of the ropes was untied Shailaja
exploded.
She had no weapon, but she
was not immediately interested in one.
Just yards away Green Plume was talking to several of his
soldiers. And right next to him
was the brazier containing the iron that had so shamefully marked
her. Three strides took her to
the brazier. A shout of alarm
arose from the men who were supposed to be guarding her, but their warning
came too late. Green Plume turned
to face her, he and the men with him drawing their swords, but Shailaja hardly
broke stride. Lifting the unwieldy
brazier she heaved its contents toward the man who had branded and violated
her.
Green Plume shouted in alarm
as he and the men next to him were showered with red hot
coals. The shouts quickly turned
to cries of terror as their cloaks and clothing
ignited. The burning men whirled
about, fanning the flames to even greater intensity and spreading confusion
among the other soldiers and sailors.
Green Plume who had been struck by more of the coals than the others
was the worst affected and reacted most
foolishly. Instead of loosening
his cloak and rolling on the deck he ran wildly about the ship spreading
panic among the other Seldarans. He
finally collapsed in a pile of cordage which immediately burst into
flame.
Several other fires burned
about the deck of the ship as well, threatening to ignite the tar caulked
timbers. The confusion generated
by her escape gave Shailaja time to pick up the heavy branding
iron. She lay about her, clearing
a circle around her and giving Vasanta and Guered time to join
her. She knew they had only a
few heartbeats before the Seldarans
recovered. They were vastly
outnumbered and utterly exhausted from their
ordeal. Only the three
warriors’ indomitable spirit was keeping them going, and Shailaja knew
they could not last long once the Seldarans
recovered. There seemed only
one option open to them and they had to take it
quickly. Even as she considered
her next move a number of soldiers were moving toward them and behind them
archers were fitting arrows to their
bows.
“Come on,” Shailaja
yelled. “We’re going
to have to swim for it.”
What she was referring to
was a rocky island just a few hundred yards from the ship.
With her steering oars thrown
overboard the slave ship they had seized had been very close to going onto
the rocks and was being held in place by the warships that intercepted
her. In their exhausted and beaten
state the swim was a long one, but it was either that or face death or
capture.
Vasanta didn’t hesitate
a heartbeat and Guered was only a step behind as Shailaja vaulted the
rail. The desperate action was
something their captors had not considered and no one moved to stop them
until it was too late. By the
time one of the archers had made it to the rail all three fugitives were
several yards away and swimming for the rock strewn
shore.
Shailaja was subjected to
multiple shocks as she splashed beneath the
waves. The salt water burned
her wounds, especially the ugly burn of the brand, and she was chilled by
the sudden change in temperature.
In spite of the tropical location the water was surprising cold and
she came to the surface gasping.
However, she didn’t
allow the pain of her injuries or the sudden shock of her immersion to distract
her. She knew that she had to
get away from the ship before the Seldarans came after her or one of the
arrows splashing about her found its
mark. A quick glance showed her
that both Vasanta and Guered were thrashing their way toward the rocky
island. Kicking hard Shailaja
swam after them, noticing immediately the sharp pain in her left shoulder
as she antagonized the spear wound.
It hampered her swimming and soon she trailed Vasanta and Guered by
several lengths. Fortunately,
they were very close to the rocky shore and as they neared the rocks the
waves lifted them, propelling them toward the island.
Now they faced another
challenge. Having escaped the
Seldarans, at least for the moment, they had to survive the heavy breakers
that now threatened to hurl them into the wave-eroded rocks that surrounded
the island. They were now caught
in the waves that crashed upon the rocky beach and could do no more than
let the breakers decide where they would end
up.
Shailaja found herself swept
between two huge boulders and was then slammed into a third with numbing
force. Unable to help herself
she was picked up by the next wave and hurled into the barnacle encrusted
rock again. Dazed, she struggled
to find a way past the rock, but her strength finally failed
her. Exhausted from the battle
with the Seldarans and weakened by her injuries, she had reached the end
of her endurance and as she was slammed against the rock for the third time
she felt her senses retreating. She
gulped water, sucking it into her lungs as her body went
limp. She tried to cough it out
and ended up taking in more. The
realization that she was drowning flashed through her awareness and then
as she contacted the rocks again it suddenly didn’t seem very important
anymore. The blue-green of the
sea faded into black as she floated face down and simply let the ocean do
what it wanted with her.
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