Slavery Ch. 04

Azeric seemed to be suddenly knelt before Alana, shaking her. It took her a moment to realise that the piercing scream was coming from her. She took a deep breath to calm herself, but started to gag on the stench of death. The natives of the planet had blood the same colour as a human, she noticed. It wasn't an observation that helped calm her. Alana's heart was pounding furiously as she was lifted childlike into Azeric's arms. Alana could hear people talking, Azeric responding, but she hadn't the energy to recognise any words. Breathing was difficult, and she felt as though she were becoming hysterical.

A familiar voice saying unfamiliar words sounded in her ear. Recognising Jaron's voice, Alana started to kick, then scream once more. Something pricked her arm, a cold liquid feeling spreading through her muscles. The urge to fight left her, then the urge to panic. She found herself falling limply back in Azeric's embrace. The last thing she was aware of before the drug induced darkness consumed her was being passed to the doctor.

Alana awoke in her bed. She felt tired, groggy and like she needed a bath. There was no momentary sense of peace; the moment conscious came, the memories of the slaughter came back to her. Alana didn't understand why it had happened. Surely some other form of punishment would have sufficed? She didn't understand the customs here, and felt that it would take too long to learn them.

"The show that you provided us with was most unpleasant." Alana turned slowly to the sound of the voice. Jaron studied her coolly, his assessing gaze making her skin prickle. "I would like to extract from you whatever allows you to produce such a noise." Alana, feeling brave, glared at him. After what she had witnessed, she felt that an unprovoked attack on her would lead to the swift punishment, and possibly decapitation, of Jaron. Of course, she could be wrong, she was but a slave.

"Your flesh has a lovely variety of colour on it now. He has not been using the lotion. I wonder," the doctor dragged the covers from Alana at this point, "if he has been soothing between your legs." Bony hands gripped Alana's ankles and forced them apart, consequently exposing her to the doctor. She longed to scream, to cry for help, but couldn't find her voice. Whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him though, and he released her ankles, throwing the cover back at her.

"Our warrior is nothing if not a man, I see. I should have known that the pleasurable part of you would be well cared for. It is, after all, as important to care for the scabbard that the sword is sheathed in, as well as the sword itself." Alana blushed furiously, but saw this as an opportunity.

"Did you ask him about medicine to avoid pregnancy?" Alana tried to force steel into her voice that she didn't really feel.

"I will not ask him. I doubt that he will consider it. I will enjoy seeing you swell, and will take great pleasure in the uncomfortable, regular examinations that I surely must perform to ensure your health, and the bastard, half bred child's." A shuddering gasp escaped Alana, and if Azeric hadn't entered at that point, Alana felt sure that she would have launched herself at the doctor. She felt like a coiled spring. There was so much tension within her that she wasn't sure what would set her off.

Azeric settled on the bed next to her, his huge arm pulling her close. Alana looked at the doctor with defiance in her eyes; just because he wouldn't broach the subject, didn't mean that she couldn't. She wouldn't do it now, with Jaron there, but could surely do it that night when Azeric took her to bed.

It wasn't long before Azeric pulled Alana from the bed, and gave her a gentle push in the direction of the bathroom. He didn't join her, and she was glad for the solitude. She took a moment to study the bruised state of her body. Some of the bruises were the greenish colour of almost being healed, thanks to the lotion. The majority were purple, with some black. The bite marks looked horrendous, and for a moment she wondered what her mother would have said. Alana quickly pushed the thought from her mind.

As she relaxed into the water, she decided that she would indeed try to tell Azeric that she didn't want a pregnancy. If he didn't understand, surely Mia would. Mia. Now there was a puzzle. Alana really wasn't sure what to make of her. Mia had been kind to her, but also cold and rough. She couldn't distinguish any particular reasons for her rapid mood swings, but came to the conclusion that it would become evident with time. The water soothed Alana, and went someway to uncoiling the tension that was within her. She thought about the events of the last month, focussing on the event that led her to this. The water on that day hadn't looked soothing at all, but she had known that it would be. It had been cold, tumultuous, sending her spinning, and struggling and gasping for air. She remembered the cleansing, burning way that the cold, dirty water had filled her lungs, and hated hands that had pulled her out of the river's death grip. Was she glad that she had survived? She wasn't sure. Here, at least, she could live in denial.

Mia didn't knock when she entered. She gestured furiously for Alana to remove herself from the water, and to get herself dry. Mia lead her to a room that she hadn't been in before. It had rails and rails of clothes. She was surprised to see that most of them were grey, which meant that they belonged to her. Mia could wear any colour she chose, which meant that she certainly wasn't a slave, and Alana suspected that she didn't actually sleep in the house with them.

Spotting the bag that Azeric had purchased earlier, Alana headed towards it. When she looked back towards the old woman, she received an encouraging nod. Excitement started to fill Alana as it seemed apparent that whatever was in the bag was for her. On top of the bag was the clip that Azeric had bought her on her first day. Under that, there was the necklace. Carefully placing those to one side, Alana removed a floor length, sheer grey dress. Mia helped her into it.

Alana was shown to a mirror, and she couldn't help but gasp. The material exposed her surprisingly tastefully, and she wasn't quite sure how. The neckline was plunging, and lined with stunning metallic beads in a gunmetal grey. The work to attach them must have been painstaking, and every now and then they were interspersed with tiny, light catching crystals. The sleeves were long, kimono like, and there was a belt to cinch the dress in at Alana's waist. The belt was covered in the same beads and crystals as the neckline, leaving it heavy, but reassuring. The embroidery was in silver thread, and the only animal that Alana knew that resembled the image was a dragon. It was stunning.

Mia moved quickly around Alana as she stood transfixed. Her hair was scooped up, with elegant strands left to dance around her face. She felt the clip click into her hair, securing it. The band around her neck was removed, and replaced with the necklace that she had chosen earlier. Her eyes were ringed with kohl, the lids dusted in a silvery powder. Finally, a bracelet that she hadn't seen before was placed around her wrist. It had a symbol on it that she recognised as Azeric's, and was encrusted with more crystals. Alana couldn't help wondering if maybe they were diamonds.

When Azeric entered the room, he took Alana's breath away. His long black dreadlocks were secured in a ponytail behind his head, displaying his sharp, elegant cheek bones. His crimson eyes seemed to blaze out from his face. The eyes themselves were lined heavily, like hers. Across his purple-silver skin, the black outline of a dragon had been painted. The tail started somewhere on his back, and curled over his shoulder, down his muscular torso, and ended above his where his wrap sat tantalisingly. On the black silky looking wrap, flames were embroidered in gold and red thread. It looked as though the flames were spewing from the vicious looking mouth of the dragon. When she dared to meet his eyes, she knew that her face was flushed with a sudden lust for the man in front of her. Pleasingly, his eyes were also dark with need, and she could see the physical signs of arousal beneath his scant clothing. She giggled, then took his outstretched hand. She had no idea where they were going, but found that she really didn't care.

Soon, Alana's unasked question was answered. They approached the beautiful villa on the hill. Alana felt a sense of trepidation; she despised Zeve, the man with cold eyes, and only could hope that she wouldn't be sat near him. The entrance was lined with armed guards who nodded to Azeric, and ignored her. They were lead into a cosy dining room, with a table that would seat ten. There were four cushions on the stone floor, each placed next to a chair. Zeve stood when they arrived, and it seemed as if they were the first guests. He exchanged pleasantries with Azeric as a servant lead them to their respective chair and cushion. Thankfully, they were not at Zeve's right hand.

A scantily clad woman in grey entered. Alana was pleased to see that her gown was not as beautiful as Alana's own. The woman was tall, lean, and had a severe looking face. Her skin was incredibly pale, her hair a fiery red. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor, and Alana decided to follow suit. It wouldn't do to get herself or Azeric in trouble. The woman knelt beside Zeve, and soon others started to file into the hall. When conversation started, and all too familiar voice whispered in her ear.

"Our Lord decrees that, for tonight, the slaves may look at us." Alana groaned inwardly that Jaron was seated next to her. She looked up at him, and met his hard gaze. She turned to look at Azeric, and saw him looking proudly down at her. He handed her a glass filled with some pale pink liquid. It tasted like heaven, sweet but not overpowering.

Azeric gently rubbed her shoulder, then pointed to the doctor.

"Jaron." Alana nodded at the unnecessary introduction. Azeric went around the table like this, pointing out and naming all of the people. All of them, except for Azeric and the slaves, were native to the planet. As well as Zeve's slave, there were the women that had been gifted with her. Alana felt proud for a moment, that she was the most finely attired, until the thought occurred to her that perhaps this was because she was the least attractive.

As the food was served, Alana had the chance to try and pick out words that she knew. She ate a variety of foods, but was quickly full. Azeric didn't try to feed her more, in fact he seemed to barely notice she was present. Thankfully, neither did Jaron. It was when dessert was served that she heard a word that she recognised spoken several times, by several of the women, the slaves. Azeric.

"Jaron," Alana interrupted the doctor with a sense of dread in her stomach, "is Azeric a common name for men here?" The doctor chuckled heartily.

"Stupid slave, Azeric means master." With that, he turned back to his conversation. Alana felt a prickling sensation in the corners of her eyes. She couldn't cry, not here, not over this. She was being stupid, she angrily told herself. She knew he owned her, why wouldn't he tell her his name. It made her feel sick. Alana felt betrayed, like his gifts and his caring for her were all pretence. It was as if the world had shifted, and she no longer could find her feet. Abruptly, she stood. The man who she had called Azeric tried to pull her into his lap, but she couldn't even look at him.

"Toilet," she hissed at a smirking Jaron, and was pointed to a door at the far end of the hall. Ungracefully, she ran for it, tears once again streaming down her cheeks. She couldn't face him, couldn't go back. She would run, find a way out, leave. She might not be able get off the planet, but she could at least leave the grounds of the villa, and all of the soldiers that it housed.

Alana padded as quietly as she could along the hard, cold floors. She didn't really no where she was going, but thought that she would be safe if she stuck to the corridors, and kept her head down. The first time a soldier passed her, she felt her heart fluttering in her chest. He didn't stop her, didn't speak. Alana decided that she would be o.k.

Eventually, after what felt like hours, but was probably only minutes, Alana made it to the entrance way. Slowing to a calm walk, Alana headed past the guards without being challenged. She nearly slipped on the steps as she descended into the gardens, and then she was running as fast as she could along the path.

Alana didn't know how much time had passed before she started to feel calm again. She had ran until her chest burned, and her breathing was ragged, until her muscles ached, and her head span. Above her, the moon and stars were being rapidly concealed by thick, dark clouds. Soon it would too dark for her to see. Alana had soon left the path that she had followed, she had ran through the gardens, heading in the direction away from the river. It was an unexplored area for her, and she pleased to find a wooded area. It obviously wasn't natural, but the gigantic trees would offer her enough cover to hide until she decided what she would do next.

Alana found wondered aimlessly for a while, until she heard shouting. The voices were male. It was far away still, but she knew that she needed to find somewhere to hide. Her pace picked up just as huge raindrops started to fall, and thunder boomed through the sky. As Alana hurried, her dress repeatedly caught on low branches, and bushes. Her ankles and knees twisted as she stumbled over roots as thick as her waist. Soon, she was starting to panic again. The wood was eerily quiet, and she wasn't sure how far the shouts were carrying.

As she came to a small clearing she froze. A golden skinned man stood facing her. He wasn't in warriors dress, but instead in a white robe. He grinned wickedly at her.

"Causing quite a stir, aren't you?" Alana was shocked to hear English rolling from his tongue. Her ears could hear the sound of rushing water in the distance, but nothing else. Even the shouting had stopped. She stared at the man, who approached slowly.

"We need to get you home." His voice was gentle, reassuring. Faltering only slightly, Alana took a timid step towards him. Although not as big as her master, he was still huge.

"You are limping a little, and you are losing blood. Let me tend your injuries." Alana nodded in agreement, and sat down where he pointed. If she was lucky, he would patch her up and then she could escape. If there was another river, there may be boats, and this far away from the villa, she doubted that they would be heavily guarded.

The man reached into a bag that she hadn't seen, and pulled out several strips of long white fabric. Bandages, good. Now that she had stopped, Alana's ankle really was throbbing. She knew that she had been putting strain on all of her joints, but hadn't realised that she was really hurt. Shuffling back against a tree, she rested her head against the trunk and shut her eyes. It was a shock when her arms were yanked behind her and bound. Alana tried to scream, but as soon as she opened her mouth, another bandage was shoved roughly inside. To make it secure, as Alana tried to spit it out, the man then bound another bandage around her mouth to keep it secure.

"I would love to hear you scream the stars from the sky, but I wouldn't want you master to find us." Alana watched in horror as the man drew a large knife from his bag. It looked sharp, something that hunters might use to skin an animal. Alana regretted that though as soon as she had it. Her beautiful, somewhat tatty dress was cut from her, exposing her flesh, and her legs were yanked forwards, so that she was laid almost flat. Agony seared through her shoulder joints, a white hot pain, then a faint feeling. Alana could barely focus, and she realised that her shoulders had just been dislocated.

From another place, Alana felt pain flare through her stomach, a white hot pain that almost brought her back to reality, but not quite. Looking down through her spinning vision, she saw a slice of red across her stomach. There was blood dripping from the wound, soaking into the rain drenched forest floor. The face in front of her swam in her vision.

"Jaron said you would have interesting insides, you know. He is quite keen to observe this, but I just couldn't wait." The words registered with Alana as another stroke with the knife sliced through her flesh, this time on her upper thigh. At least he wasn't going to disembowel her yet, she thought. The image of Jaron standing over her made her almost choke with fear. The flesh on her forearm parted easily under the knife.

A shout in the distance stopped the man before he made another slice. There was a responding shout much closer. Alana made the loudest noise that she could into the gag, but it was all but stifled. The pain in her body seemed distant now, and she knew that she was on the verge of unconsciousness. In one last move of self-preservation, Alana lifted a knee up into the groin of her attacker who was still hovering over her.

Through the trees burst her master, sword wielded above his head. Her attacker straightened through his pain, but he was too late. The sword flashed in a deadly arc. Thankful for the ringing in her ears, Alana didn't hear the noise that the decapitation made, but did feel the spray of hot blood cover her body. She was proud when she didn't scream.

Her master didn't look at her. He rolled the dead man onto his back, then plunged his fist through the corpse's chest. Alana tried to blink away the image as her mater gripped the heart, then ripped it out. Even over the bells of unconsciousness, Alana heard the squelch. She watched in disgust as her master lifted the heart to his mouth. Using his ferocious, pointed teeth, he tore a chunk of meat from the heart. Alana started to shake as he consumed the steaming, bloody flesh. He had been inside her, this cannibal. She never wanted to feel him against her again. This was why the others reacted as they did to him. When she looked at him, she couldn't help but wonder if he would consume her, also.

Once done, Alana's master approached her. He wasn't careful or cautious as he had been previously, but business like and grim. First he ungagged her, her whimpers finally allowed to surface. The stench coming from his mouth was enough to make her stomach heave, combined with the fear, and the pain as he untied her wrists, she vomited all over herself. As he tried to move her, she screamed in agony. After a moment of study, he wordlessly yanked an arm back into place. Once again Alana's vision swam. As he replaced the other, it was too much. More vomit rose in her throat, and as the world went black, she started to choke with only the desperate thought that she didn't want him to touch her running through her mind.