Tales of
Erogenia
Episode 1: The Snow
Princess
Chapter 16:
Escape
Zenaria knelt in the sawdust
of the arena, gazing into the eyes of the woman she had
surrendered to.
She did not think of herself as defeated; she had voluntarily yielded
when she could just as easily have killed her just moments
before. But she could not bring
herself to kill the sister of the man she… of
Tren.
Slowly she got to her feet
as Ulua dropped the points of her
weapons. Both women could barely
stand, and now that the exhilaration of battle had worn off, her injured
shoulder throbbed in pain, a trickle of blood flowing from the wound and
down over her chest and between her
breasts. She saw Ulua wince painfully
as she moved, the long gash in her belly weeping
blood.
Then a scream from the stands
made both women look toward the source of the
noise. Kund was on his feet,
shouting into the arena.
“Barbarian bitch! Why
did you capitulate so cravenly? I
thought you a warrior. Go, and
good riddance to you.”
From the other side of the
arena came Tanar’s dry laugh.
“Admit it, Kund. The
barbarian is not the warrior you thought.
She could not bring herself to kill a
woman. And now she belongs to
me.”
As Zenaria and Ulua stood
in the arena the sliding doors opened and several armed men entered the
arena. One of them dragged heavy
chains through the sawdust until he reached
Zenaria. They were much more
massive than anything she had worn before and it actually took two men to
hold them while they shackled her, placing a heavy iron collar around her
neck and thick manacles and leg irons on her wrists and
ankles. Each link was as thick
as her thumb and Zenaria staggered under their
weight.
Was this was what it meant
to be defeated in the arena; to be weighed down like a beast of
burden? She could barely
move. “Fear not,” Ulua
whispered as Zenaria staggered under the weight of
iron. “It is Tanar’s
way to burden his latest acquisitions.
He thinks to break their spirits and mould them to his
will.”
At that point the guards
intervened, separating the two women.
Zenaria was prodded forward.
Already exhausted from her combat, she could barely place one foot
in front of the other as she was marched from the
arena. Ulua walked in the rear
unfettered, although her weapons had been taken away from her and she was
flanked by four guards.
This time she was marched
in an entirely different direction, as of course, she was no longer Kund’s
slave. She forced herself to
place one foot in front of the other, marching is silence between guards
who also did not speak. The walk
seemed to take forever, but Zenaria refused to
break. Desperate for water, and
bleeding badly from her shoulder wound, she would not give her captors the
satisfaction of seeing her forced to her
knees. Being dragged before Tanar
would be a complete admission of defeat and she would not give her new master
the pleasure of seeing her so completely
degraded.
She finally entered a compound
that led off the long walk and found herself in
an open area similar to that where she had been confined before her
defeat. She guessed that the
arena must be surrounded by many such compounds, set aside for the gladiators
and owned by the various wealthy members of Sandak
society. This time instead of
serving girls, Tanar was waiting for her.
The presence of the High
Thuski of Uhra Don partly explained the
chains. Up close she could see
that in spite of his golden robes, he was a rather unimpressive individual,
standing eight inches shorter than her and probably old enough to be her
grandfather. But he remembered
that this was the man who had publicly shouted his intention to force her
to his bed. Would he indeed chain
her down and rape her, or was that all some sort of bluster intended to impress
other members of the Sandak nobility?
She remembered Ulua’s
whispered advice and tried to meet his gaze and hold herself erect in spite
of the great weight of metal that tried to drag her
down, and the heat and exhaustion that had her
swaying. It was an act that Tanar
apparently found disconcerting.
“Barbarian bitch,”
he growled. “Lower your
eyes when you are in my presence.”
“I am not one of your
docile Sandak she-goats,” Zenaria
replied. “Were I not chained
I would kill you where you stand.”
“Another
like that
Beni
Sidra
bitch. It might be well if I
stripped the flesh from your back in order to teach you some
humility.”
“That would hardly
add to my value as your slave,” Zenaria replied, her voice dripping
scorn, “but I would expect no less from a
Sandak.”
“You will find that
having your tongue removed will not impede your ability to fight,” Tanar
growled. “I suggest you
shut your mouth while I decide your fate.”
With some effort Zenaria
bit back a retort. She had no
doubt that if pushed far enough Tanar would carry out his
threat. She waited while he inspected
her, the heat added to her exhaustion, but she held herself erect and feigned
indifference to what was happening to
her.
“You are strong,”
Tanar said as he circled her.
“And I know you can kill.
Why then did you spare my fighter?
You had her at your mercy and then meekly
surrendered. I would not want
to see that repeated if you fight for me.”
“The warriors of the
Snow Leopard do not fight women,” Zenaria
answered.
“And yet, barbarian,
you allow women to become warriors in complete defiance of what Aroo has
planned for them.”
Zenaria knew she was treading
on dangerous ground, but felt she had little to
lose. She was Tanar’s property
and she gambled that he would want the right to claim ownership of the two
greatest gladiators in Uhra Don.
“Have you spoken to this god you call
Aroo? If not how do you know
what she has ordained?”
“A clever answer,”
Tanar replied, “but one that would see you stoned by the Servants of
Aroo should they hear
it. But it shows you are more
than just an ignorant savage. There
is a brain beneath that thick barbarian
skull. I will have you instructed
in the true faith. Perhaps you
will see the light.”
Tanar motioned to the
guards. “Remove the chains
and see that she receives the treatment deserving of one of my
gladiators. Stable her with the
Zenaria managed to keep
her feet as her chains were removed and the guards escorted her across the
compound, but she almost fell as she was ushered into still another compound
and the door was closed behind her.
Gentle hands on her arms kept her upright and she was helped to a
stone bench. As before she saw
that she was surrounded by several young women, two of them barely into their
teens. However, there was someone
else there as well.
Ulua mad no attempt to rise
from the deep pool where she was being attended to by two nude serving girls,
but her dark almond-shaped eyes fastened Zenaria like a hunting cat stalking
its prey. Without the slightest
preamble she spoke. “Who
are you and how did you learn the name,
Tren?” Her voice was not
particularly friendly, but neither was it hostile.
Zenaria countered with a
question of her own as the female attendants stripped off her
armour. “I am called Zenaria
and you are Tren’s sister aren’t
you? The one he
seeks. He did not tell me your
name.”
“That is not an
answer,” Ulua replied. It
was apparent from her tone that she was used to having her way, at least
so far as her fellow slaves were concerned.
He rescued me from Sandakar
slavers,” Zenaria answered, “and then I travelled with him to Uhra
Don to look for you.”
“And how came you to
be in the arena?” Ulua asked as Zenaria was helped toward the same pool
in which the golden-skinned girl was
immersed.
“Tren took me into
the city and I was discovered and taken
prisoner. I was then sent to
the arena.”
“Hmm,” Ulua
commented. “You are very
good. You surprised even
me. I thought I was finished
until you held back. Obviously
you do not share Tren’s mission.”
“His
mission?” Zenaria winced as one of the serving
girls began to probe her shoulder wound, but she held still knowing that
it was necessary.
“Does he not seek my
death?”
“He did say that,”
Zenaria gasped as the girl attending her pushed a long slender needle into
the wound, forcing it open, and then another girl used a hollow reed to drip
some stinging liquid into the wound.
“Yes,” Ulua
mused. “He would think that
I would tell all under torture. But
I was spared that. Tanar decided
to use me in the arena instead.
However, I suspect that when I have served my usefulness he may decide
that torture would be an appropriate ending to my
career.” She too winced
as another girl began to stitch closed the nasty cut on her belly, using
a needle so tiny that Zenaria could not even see the
stitches.
“It is clean,”
mistress murmured her female attendant.
“Your blood washed it clean.
Now we will stitch it closed.”
Zenaria ignored the jab
of the tiny needle and continued her conversation with
Ulua. “How did you come
to be here?” Zenaria asked.
“A botched assassination
attempt,” Ulua said ruefully.
“I was caught outside Tanar’s bedchamber and brought down
with a poisoned dart before I had time to kill
myself.”
“What stops you now?”
Zenaria asked. “If you wish
death would it not be a simple matter to die in the
arena.”
“It would,” Ulua
admitted, “but Tanar is clever and quite
ruthless. He kept me in an iron
cage for the first month of my activity and had me attended by the servants
you see here plus a few others who have other
duties. My personal retinue now
numbers twenty young maidens, all taken as slaves by Sandakar
raiders. On the final day of
the month Tanar came to me and told me of his plan to use me in the
arena. He then told me that if
I died all of my servants would be put to death, but not before they had
been turned over to the city guard for their
entertainment. And so here I
remain. I dare not escape even
if given the chance.”
Zenaria nodded her
agreement. It appeared that there
was no way for Ulua to escape or be rescued without dooming a score of innocent
young maidens. She thought of
the five girls who had served her when she had been Kund’s property
and felt a similar attachment in spite of the fact that the girls had served
her for only a day.
Suddenly Zenaria felt remarkably
tired. So much so that she could
barely keep her eyes open. It
was almost certainly a reaction to the ordeal she had been put through as
it was still only mid-afternoon.
The servants seemed to sense her exhaustion and helped her from the
water. Draping a soft cotton
robe around her the led her to a pile of cushions placed in the shade of
an awning. As they settled her
down she saw the other servants helping Ulua to an identical resting
place. Then she closed her eyes
and slept.
She awoke very hungry and
thirsty, but she need not have worried.
Although it was now dark, the female attendants were still there and
they immediately brought her food and
drink. A few feet away, Ulua
still slept, but a short while later she awoke, and wincing as the movement
stretched the wound in her belly, she sat up and helped herself to the food
and drink set before her.
Both women ate in silence
until they were satiated and then Zenaria rolled from her pile of cushions
and moved over to Ulua. The girl
looked up in surprise, but then nodded in understanding as Zenaria looked
at the serving girls. With a
motion of her fingers, Ulua shooed than away and then waited for Zenaria
to speak.
“I think escape is
possible,” Zenaria said, “but we must be willing to do the
unexpected.”
“What do you have in
mind?” Ulua asked.
“I know nothing of
the layout of this place, but you are an
assassin. My short association
with Tren has taught me that you see and know things that others do
not. You must have figured out
a way to escape by now.”
“That is true,”
Ulua said, “but I cannot leave my attendants to be raped and
murdered.”
“That is why we must
attack instead of retreating,” Zenaria
said. “You came here to
assassinate Tanar. What if we
were to take him alive instead?
Could he not be forced to grant you and your
servants free passage in return for his
life?”
“It is a plan,”
Ulua agreed. “But if it
fails then many innocent lives will be forfeit”
“I realize that,”
Zenaria replied. “But we
might now have a chance. There
are now two of us instead of one.
Acting together we might be able to
succeed. However, I will leave
it to you. You know the layout
of our prison much better than do I.”
Ulua thought on Zenaria’s
proposal for the next few hours before finally making up her
mind. “Death is preferable
to a life in slavery,” the golden skinned girl
said. “It is a bold idea
and it might just succeed, but not in the way that you
think.”
Zenaria listened while Ulua
spoke. “You are a strong
woman. Much
stronger than I, as I have reason to
know. I have a plan, but
it will require the cooperation of the High Thuski in order for it to
work. Here is what I am going
to do….”
At the end Zenaria
nodded.
“Yes. I can do
that. As you say it is a desperate
plan, but will probably be most
unexpected. It might just
work.”
It took a week before
Zenaria’s wound was healed enough that she could move her arm properly,
but she resumed training long before that as did
Ulua. Although they were not
allowed weapons, both warriors went through their moves, strengthening their
bodies and stretching their injuries carefully to work the stiffness out
of them. As they regained their
ease of movement each observed the other.
Both warriors’ moved quite differently and watched with interest
as the other went through the drills she had been
taught. Zenaria especially found
Ulua’s movements fascinating.
It was a form of combat that resembled dance more than warfare, but
she had no difficulty in understanding its deadly purpose and frequently
asked Ulua to show her how to perform a certain
move. Soon both women were practicing
together, something that was apparently noted by someone who reported to
Tanar, as he showed up one day to watch while they
trained.
He did not exactly enter
the compound where Zenaria and Ulua
lived. Instead he had his guards
escort him to a small walled compound where he could watch them from the
safety of an observation deck some fifteen feet above the floor of the
enclosure. As the two warriors
entered the compound they looked at one
another. They had not expected
this. Their opportunity had come
sooner than expected. “On
my signal,” Ulua, whispered.
Zenaria acknowledged the command with a faint
smile.
They warmed up for ten minutes,
working up a good sweat and lulling Tanar into a state of
complacency. Then Ulua gave a
slight nod and broke into a full run toward
Zenaria. It was an unrehearsed
move, but one that they had discussed during their sparing routines, and
they would have just one chance to pull it off.
Ulua launched herself toward
Zenaria, leaping at the last second as if she intended to drive her foot
into Zenaria’s inviting bosom, but instead Zenaria went into a crouch,
extending her cupped hands and catching Ulua’s foot as she came
down. Then Zenaria straightened
her powerful body, extending her hands as she pushed upward with all of her
strength. At the same time Ulua
pushed off, her body uncoiling like a steel
spring. The combined effort propelled
the golden-skinned girl almost straight up and level with the balcony where
an astonished Tanar toppled backward out of his chair as Ulua caught hold
of the edge of the balcony and vaulted into the
stands.
The four guards who were
with the High Thuski were caught completely flat-footed and Ulua was on to
Tanar before he could scramble to safety.
Tangled in his gold robes he could only flail helplessly as the
Beni Sidra assassin
slammed into him.
“Mercy!” he screamed.
There was a strong ordour of urine as Ulua snapped his head into a
death dealing armlock, her forearm over the great vein in his
throat. “Call off your
dogs’” she commanded as Tanar went white with
fear. “Quickly or I break
your neck!”
“Hold!” Tanar
cried hoarsely. “Come no
closer. You master commands
it.”
The four guards, who had
been rushing to his aid, came to a complete halt barely a sword-length
away. “Tell them to back
off,” Ulua ordered, tightening her grip slightly, “and give orders
that no one be admitted to the viewing stand.”
Tanar did as he was told,
ordering his guards to stand back.
Only then did Ulua release her hold, however, she plucked Tanar’s
jewelled knife from its sheath and held the blade to his
throat. “Strip off your
robes,” she commanded.
“You cannot do this
to me,” Tanar protested.
“I am the high Thuski.
You will be flayed alive.”
In answer Ulua grabbed his
hair, jerking his head back and held the point of the knife to his
eye. “I have no time for
fools,” she said. “Do
as you are told without protest or you will live the rest of your days as
a blind man.”
Tanar’s dusky features,
which had regained some of their colour, whitened even
further. He hastily shucked his
elaborate gold-threaded robes and lay shaking with rage, fear, and embarrassment
under the blade of Ulua’s knife.
“Now,” Ulua said with obvious relish, “I shall bind
you in a way that is sure to catch your
attention. She took Tanar’s
robe and expertly cut off a strip of cloth that she used to bind his hands
behind his back. Then she cut
off another strip and with a malicious grin on her face she tightened it
around his genitals, taking obvious pleasure from the panicked look that
crossed the High Thuski’s face.
“Now,” she said, “I expect you will obey
me.”
All this time Zenaria had
been watching from the pit that was the bottom of the
arena. Although Ulua had only
been gone a matter of a few hundred heartbeats it seemed much longer and
she breathed a sigh of relief when the assassin turned her attention to
her. Ulua cut three more strips
from Tanar’s robe, and tying one end to a stone column that flanked
the Thuski’s seating place, she tossed the other end to
Zenaria. It took her only seconds
to scramble up the makeshift rope to stand beside her
companion.
“Now,” Ulua said,
speaking to Tanar, “we are going to leave, the gladiator’s compound
and you are going to make sure that we leave alive, otherwise you will
die. Any hesitation on your part
and I pull this.” She gave
the length of cloth binding Tanar’s genitals a sharp
tug. The High Thuski’s cry
of pain indicated that he had received the message.
“First, however,”
Ulua continued, “there are a few things I want brought to me and you
will order it so.”
Visibly sweating, Tanar
stammered out a reply. “What
do you want?”
“I wish all of my servants
brought to me. Remember that
I know them all by sight so I will know if one is not
present. They are to bring me
all of my equipment and a hundred pieces of gold
each.”
A sly look came into
Tanar’s eyes, but he nodded his
acceptance.
“I too want
something,” Zenaria said.
“I wish the five serving girls who attended me when I was
Kund’s servant brought to me.
And I want the return of my
sword.”
“Zenaria’s serving
girls are to be given one hundred gold as well,”
Ulua added.
Zenaria experienced a slight
start of surprise. She had supposed
that Ulua wanted the gold for herself, but that appeared to be not the
case.
“It will be done,”
Tanar said grudgingly. “But
could I not at least have my under-robe?”
“You had no problem
in parading me nude before you and you
companions. Now you will be presented
in the same manner.”
“If I agree to all
of this,” the High Thuski said, “then you must release
me.”
“Think yourself lucky
that I have not gelded you and stuffed your balls into your mouth,”
Ulua replied. “There is
no negotiation. You do as you
are told or I end it here.”
“I am your safe passage
out of here,” Tanar replied angrily.
You dare not kill me.”
From his comments it was
obvious that Tanar had gotten over his shock, but Ulua was not about to concede
an inch to the High Thuski.
“So you are,” she replied
calmly. Then she gave a sharp
tug on the rope.
Tanar screamed as the cord
tightened around his family treasures.
“Stop,” he pleaded.
“I’ll do as you say.”
Ulua nodded as if there
had never been any doubt. Zenaria
had to admit that the Assassin certainly seemed to know what she was
about. The older woman almost
frightened her with her cold intensity.
As it transpired things
worked out very much the way Ulua had planned them although waiting in the
seating area of the pit for the two hours it took for all of the serving
girls to arrive was one of the hardest things Zenaria had ever had to
do. At any moment she expected
a surprise raid by Tanar’s guards and the hair on the back of her head
stirred at every little sound.
Eventually, however, two
dozen young women filed into the observation deck of the practice pit, among
them were the five who had served
Zenaria. They were a highly confused
bunch as might be expected. And
were especially mystified by the one hundred gold pieces each of them had
been given. When they discovered
that the High Thuski was the helpless prisoner of the two Amazon warriors
their reaction ranged from horror to malicious
delight. The former were mostly
too frightened to say anything except to wonder at what might happen to them
for daring to defy the most powerful man in Uhra
Don. The latter wanted to remove
pieces of Tanar’s anatomy with rather dull
instruments. Neither attitude,
however, was acceptable to Ulua.
“We are leaving Uhra
Don,” Ulua said, standing at the top of the viewing stand so that all
could see her. Tanar knelt at
her feet and Zenaria stood just inches away, her newly returned sword in
her hand. “The High
Thuski will ensure that we are not stopped.”
“But we will never
cross the desert,” wailed one of the
girls. “We will die of thirst
and our bones picked clean by vultures.”
Ulua simply
smiled. “Trust me,”
she said. “There is a
way.”
Her calm demeanour seemed
to calm most of the girls and if that didn’t Zenaria’s menacing
presence cowed the rest into following
her.
There were a few more
arrangements to be made before Ulua was ready, such as obtaining proper desert
robes of all of the semi-nude young women and enough food to see them on
a journey of about a week. Once
again, Zenaria fretted through the arrangements, while Ulua seemed oblivious
to the passage of time. It was
obvious that she thought her control of the High Thuski would be enough to
ensure her escape, but Zenaria kept on thinking of ways that things could
go wrong.
One thing that especially
troubled her was finding a way out of Uhra Don and across the desert without
being followed by a horde of armed men.
For the moment threatening to kill Tanar might work, but eventually
she was sure that the Sandakar would decide that he was expendable, especially
as his political rivals might see his death as a most convenient
outcome. But she held her peace
and waited until Ulua was ready.
By this time Zenaria had
not only had her sword returned to her, but had been dressed in a fine robe
under which she had been fitted with some of Ulua’s
armour. Ulua’s own attendants
helped put it on; fitting the pieces to Zenaria’s much larger
frame. The armour that fit was
highly polished black leather studded with bronze rivets for added
protection. It consisted of a
pair of greaves and thigh protectors and leather bands fitted to cover a
portion of her breasts. On Ulua
the bands would have offered complete protection, but Zenaria’s had
to be content with what was available.
And she was quite pleased with the leather cuffs that protected most
of her forearms and the leather coverings that fitted over her upper arms
and shoulders.
It was a shame that such
fine armour had to be hidden under her desert robes, especially the crested
leather helmet that, like Ulua’s, hid the upper portion of her
face. Her vanity was piqued and
she would have liked nothing better than to study herself in front of some
reflecting surface to see exactly what she looked
like. However, the only mirror
the serving girls had brought was a small hand held piece of silvered glass
that did not allow Zenaria to see more than a small part of her
body. With a frown of resignation
she handed the mirror back to the girl who had given it to her and pulled
on her black desert robes. It
was time to go.
It was an odd procession
that marched out of the practice arena.
Twenty six young women moved in a tight formation with Tanar in the
middle. Zenaria stood right behind
the High Thuski, sword in hand, leaving little doubt as to what would happen
to Tanar should the Sandakar attempt any foolish rescue
attempt. Ulua walked in front,
her dark eyes alert for danger, and towing the High Thuski forward with not
so gentle tugs on the leash around his
genitals.
Their formation protected
the two warriors from arrows, although it left the girls extremely
vulnerable. It was a situation
that Zenaria did not approve of, but she reflected that there was probably
little choice if they were to escape.
The only thing that could keep them alive was to keep the High Thuski
under their control and they could only do that by not being filled with
arrows. Their precautions seemed
well founded when they finally exited the narrow corridors of the
gladiators’ compound. They
found themselves in a large plaza lined with hundreds of
Sandakar. Only Tanar’s screams
for them to keep their distance held them
off. The question was, however,
whether or not they would continue to obey their ruler or whether in their
anger they would decide he was
expendable.
As a result it was a tense
few minutes as the young women paraded through the streets watched by the
dozens of glowering soldiers.
“You can’t get away, you know,” Tanar
said. “There is nowhere
you can hide that my soldiers can’t
follow. Even if you kill me,
you will all die.”
“As you once said to
me,” Zenaria replied.
“You can still walk without your
tongue.”
“Or your balls,”
Ulua added, giving the rope another painful jerk.
Zenaria’s composure
hid the tension within her. The
soldiers kept their distance, but they closed in on the procession as it
passed. It would take only a
single word to send a wave of soldiers against them and against such numbers
the two warriors would have had no
chance. At any moment she expected
to hear a shouted order and the thunder of a thousand feet charging toward
her.
But their desperate gamble
held until Ulua directed them into a large and beautifully constructed building
on the far side of the plaza.
“You can’t go
in here,” Tanar protested.
“This is sacred
ground.”
Ulua and the others paid
him not the slightest bit of attention as they mounted the twenty steps leading
up to a columned portico and entered the
building. Zenaria had to force
her mouth closed to keep from gaping.
Inside the building was even more magnificent than it was on the
outside. The dozen columns fronting
the building continued inside running toward the back in seemingly endless
rows.
“This is sacrilege,”
Tanar complained. “You profane
Aroo’s sacred precincts.”
“Don’t worry,”
Ulua replied. “We are not
staying long.” She hurried
toward the back of the temple forcing the Thuski to break into a run to prevent
a certain portion of his anatomy from being ripped from his
body.
“You are a fool,”
Tanar gasped. “You have
trapped yourself. There is no
escape from here, and my presence will no longer protect
you.”
He appeared to be right
about the last statement. As
they penetrated the temple there were angry shouts from all
sides. Fortunately, no one in
the temple other than Zenaria and Ulua were armed, but from behind them they
could hear the shouts of the guards as they poured across the threshold of
the temple. Ulua, however, kept
going, reaching the back of the temple where she led the two dozen women
behind an alcove and into what appeared to be a dead end.
“You see,” Tanar
said, wheezing from exertion.
“You are trapped.
Surrender and I will grant you all quick
deaths.”
Ulua ignored
him. She handed over her leash
to another woman and moved to the middle of the
floor. “Quickly,” she
said pointing. “Lift this
up.”
Zenaria saw that there were
four large bronze rings set into the stone beneath their
feet. Several of the women grabbed
hold and heaved. There was a
hollow grinding sound and a section of floor about four feet wide and six
feet long moved. However, in
spite of the efforts of the four women straining at the rings, the stone
would not move.
“Harder,” Ulua ordered.
“We do not have much time.”
Sheathing her sword Zenaria
strode forward. Pushing two of
the women aside she seized the rings and
pulled. The stone came up suddenly
and Zenaria continued to pull until the slab was clear of its seating and
then she dragged it aside, revealing a large black hole.
Ulua grabbed a torch from
a nearby wall sconce and stepped into the hole, revealing that a flight of
stone steps descended into the darkness.
She handed the torch to the closest
girl. “Go
quickly. I will follow
shortly.”
Zenaria stepped forward,
unsheathing her sword. “You
go,” she said. “You
know the way. I will follow after
I’ve given the Sandakar something to thing
about.”
Ulua hesitated and then
nodded. “Come as quickly as you can,” she said, and then hastening
after the other woman she disappeared into the
darkness.
Zenaria could hear the sound
of feet rushing toward the alcove.
She waited until the sound was almost upon her and then she charged
from her hiding place. Her appearance
so startled the soldiers that confronted her that two of them actually lost
their footing as they slid to a halt on the stone
floor. Several others fell over
them, resulting in an untidy heap on the temple
floor. Zenaria gave them no time
to recover; swinging her sword two-handed she cut into them, scattering bodies
and pieces of bodies in every direction.
For a minute pandemonium reigned as those closest to her tried desperately
to get away, colliding with those at the back who were still pushing
forward. It was a bloody and
chaotic mess, the screams of the wounded mingling with those who shouted
in rage at the defilement of the temple.
Zenaria stepped back and
retreated to the hole in the floor.
Wiping her bloody sword on her robe, she sheathed it and grabbed the
rings of the huge slab, pulling it up on its edge and then dragging it toward
the hole. She moved as quickly
as she could, the sounds of the enraged soldiers coming closer as they recovered
from the turmoil she had created.
She descended the stairs, still holding the rings of the slab and
then dragged it after her, pulling the slab into place with the rings facing
down so that they could not be reached.
Darkness closed around her,
but far down the stairs she could make up the glow of a
torch. Placing her right hand
against the wall she hurried after it and a minute later found Ulua waiting
for her. “They won’t
follow that quickly,” Zenaria
panted. “Where is
Tanar?”
“The girls are looking
after him. I suspect he wishes
that he was safe with us.”
Ulua looked back up the passage, the flickering light of the torch
glinting off her high cheekbones.
“What did you do?”
“Reversed
the
stone. They’ll have to get pry bars
to lift it. That should give
us a little time.”
“Then let’s take
advantage of your strength,” Ulua
replied. She headed down the
stairwell.
“What is this place?”
Zenaria asked. There was no stench
as in the sewers, but the walls were damp with water, and the air was definitely
moist.
“You will see,”
Ulua asked. “Did you not
wonder where the people of Uhra Don got all of their
water?”
As a matter of fact Zenaria
had wondered. And she soon got
her answer. She and Ulua descended
for another minute and then she saw the other women standing on a stone shelf
next to what appeared to be a body of
water. She and Ulua were soon
standing beside them and then she saw Tanar on his knees surrounded by the
women who had once been his slaves.
“What shall we do with
him?” Zenaria asked.
“He has served his
purpose,” Ulua answered.
“I see no reason why we should not cut his
throat.”
“No, you cannot,”
Tanar pleaded, raising his hands as if in
prayer. “I kept my part
of the bargain.”
“We made no bargain,”
Ulua replied coldly. “We
simply told you what to do.”
“The warriors of the
Snow Leopard do not kill prisoners,” Zenaria said
flatly.
“But I am a
Beni Sidra
assassin,” Ulua said.
“I have no such
reservations.” She stared
at Zenaria and then back at the trembling High
Thuski. “Alright, I will
respect your sense of honour, but I would just as soon be bitten by a
scorpion.” She motioned
to Tanar. “Go before I change
my mind. And thank your unforgiving
god that the barbarian shows greater mercy than he
does.”
Tanar needed no further
urging. He scrambled up the stairway,
stumbling and falling several times in his eagerness to put as much distance
between himself and Ulua as possible.
“Come,” Ulua
commanded. “We have wasted
enough time. She walked to the
edge of the shelf, where it met the walls confining the underground
lake. The flickering light of
the torch revealed a narrow walkway about a foot wide that ran off into the
darkness. Without a moment’s
hesitation she strode out along it as if it had been the widest
highway.
Hardly a single one of the
gaggle of young women followed.
Instead they bunched up at the edge and looked despairingly at the
narrow ledge. “I can’t
go on that,” one of them wailed.
“I’ll fall off.”
Her protest was immediately followed by wails from most of the rest
of the girls.
“Go!” Zenaria
commanded. “She won’t
wait. I’ll follow and make
sure no one falls in.”
“I can’t swim,”
another girl cried.
“I can,” Zenaria
said firmly. “I won’t
let you drown. Now move or I’ll
push you in myself.”
The threat and the promise,
plus Ulua disappearing into the darkness, had the desired
effect. The girls set off, the
bolder going first and the most timid bringing up the
rear. They went slowly at first,
then more quickly as they gained confidence, but they were still painfully
slow and Zenaria had to resist the urge to push the girls in front of her
in order to get them moving more quickly.
Her only consolation was that as slowly as they were going, any pursuer
had to follow the same route. The
narrow walkway would enable her to defend against any Sandakar that dared
to follow them into the stygian
blackness.
The underground lake was
immense. It faded away into the
darkness, its roof supported by row on row of pillars that loomed out of
the water like the trunks of branchless
trees. And the walkway that skirted
it, and along which Ulua led them, seemed to go on
forever. Most of the girls were
snivelling in fear-induced exhaustion by the time they finally came to a
second landing and another stairway.
Ulua led them up the stairs, but not, as Zenaria had expected to the
top. Instead she stopped halfway
up and turned into a dark hole.
“Not so far, now,”
she whispered. “But we must
be very quiet.”
The blubbering stopped
immediately, and then Ulua moved on.
Zenaria was immensely relieved.
Not only were most of the girls close to collapse, but the torch had
burned down to a nub. However,
it was not needed. Ulua stubbed
it out on the stonework and it was revealed that a faint light trickled down
the tunnel as well as a strange grinding noise.
Ulua crept along the
tunnel. It was almost perfect
circular and just high enough that Zenaria had only to crouch a
little. The light got brighter
as they progressed, and the grinding sound became steadily
louder. Underfoot, Zenaria could
detect a faint vibration which also increased with every
footfall.
Ulua held up her hand, bringing
the column to a halt. Zenaria
pushed forward, elbowing the compliant serving girls aside as she moved to
the front of the line. Ulua nodded
as she came up, but said nothing.
However, what was revealed to Zenaria needed no
explanation. The tunnel opened
over a large cavern that to Zenaria was the perfect Erogenian vision of
hell.
At the bottom of the cavern
was a deep pool of water that was probably a continuation of the underground
lake they had seen earlier. Over
against the far wall were several gigantic wheels position one above the
other. The rim of the lowest
wheel was immersed in water.
Attached to the outer rim were buckets that scooped up the water as
the wheel slowly rotated and delivered the water to a cistern at the very
top of the wheel. From the cistern
the water flowed to the buckets of the second wheel which carried the water
to a still higher cistern. There
were six wheels in all, each one with a diameter of about eight yards, raising
the water almost 150 feet from the lower
reservoir. It was an ingenious
work of engineering, and like many things about Uhra Don, it was something
that left Zenaria wide-eyed.
However, it also left her burning with rage.
Powering the huge wheels
were male slaves. Under the watchful
eyes of Sandak overseers a half dozen poor souls trod the interior of each
wheel, forcing them to turn and delivering the water to its
destination. Scattered about
the machinery were over twenty guards.
There was no escaping this dreadful
drudgery. All of the overseers
were equipped with whips, which they used liberally to keep the naked men
in the wheels moving. Without
thinking Zenaria drew her sword.
Ulua placed her hand on
Zenaria’s arm.
“Hold,” she murmured.
“What do you think you are going to
do?”
“I can’t just
leave those men there,” Zenaria
hissed. “The goddess would
curse me for it.”
“They are heavily guarded
and we are just two,” Ulua said
quietly. “There are thirty
men down there.”
“Then the odds are
even,” Zenaria said.
“We have a score of
young women in our care already.
Would you jeopardize their safety to save the
others? And what are we going
to do with them? I am going to
have enough trouble trying to hide those we have without adding to the
number. It would serve us poorly
if we attempted to save those poor men and it resulted in those we have already
saved being recaptured.”
“Then why are we
here?” Zenaria asked.
“It is the way out,”
Ulua replied. “Let us go,
but keep down so that we will not be
noticed.” Moving into a
crouch she moved off, traversing a walkway overlooking the rim of the
cavern. It was just wide enough
that by keeping close to the wall and crouching down those below could not
seen them. In this fashion the
procession of young women crossed the roof of the cavern and entered another
tunnel. This one sloped toward
the surface and then levelled out.
It then ran straight for several hundred yards before ending it what
appeared to be a dead end, but by this time Zenaria had enough faith in Ulua
to know that there must be more to it than
that.
Her faith was rewarded as
Ulua found a hidden catch and a small hole appeared in the
wall. It was just big enough
for a man or woman to enter, and Ulua went
first. A second later she poked
her head back out. “Follow
me,” she invited.
Zenaria waited until the
last woman passed through before
following. Ulua was waiting and
closed the opening as Zenaria passed
through. She looked
around. She was standing in a
natural cave that was somehow vaguely
familiar. “Come” Ulua
commanded. The golden-skinned
assassin once again took the lead and moved through the
cave. From somewhere enough light
entered the cave that although it was dim, Zenaria and the others could make
their way without difficulty.
They turned a corner and
entered a more open area; one that Zenaria knew
well. She felt a strange sensation
near her heart and stepped into the middle of the cave, looking out toward
the deep pool at its mouth where she had once gone
swimming. She looked around,
but the one she hoped to see was nowhere in
sight. Ulua, however, was not
fooled. She turned as a dark
figure suddenly materialized as if out of
nowhere.
Zenaria’s eyes widened
and her heart skipped a beat.
“Tren!” she gasped.
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