Tales of Erogenia: Book 3 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3:  Slavers

The trail could not have been easier to follow if their prey had left a trail of flags to guide Queron and his band. They had added incentive to catch up the two warriors now that they had found the cache of armour. The value of the finely worked metal was worth a hundred ordinary slaves and ideas of ransom now flicked through Queron's mind. It seemed very possible that the mysterious couple were some sort of exotic royalty although what they were doing in the middle of nowhere he had no idea.

Gron as usual had a theory. "I think it's sorcery. How else could they be here? They clearly don't belong."

"Strange for sorcerers to be walking," Daget observed.

"What do you know about sorcerers?" Gron countered. "Maybe they came on a magic carpet and it flew away."

"This conversation is stupid," Queron said. "Let's just catch the two of them. We can decide what they are after we have the ropes on them."

---

Zenaria kept up a steady pace, forcing Varden to keep up. The knight wasn't used to walking, but she wanted to cross the seemingly endless plain before they ran into any other dangers. In a way they had been lucky that it was she who had been attacked. If it had been Varden he might have died since she had no healing powers. At the very least they would have been held up for days or even weeks while he recovered from his injuries. As it was they were able to set out the next day although Zenaria was careful not to push herself too hard. Varden's healing powers were extraordinary, but the effort of healing took a bit out of him and she didn't want to end up with an exhausted companion.

Even the more relaxed pace was a bit much for Varden. Every chance he got he rested his feet. However, he was given a respite when Zenaria brought down one of the spiral-horned deer. She took the time to fashion herself a new set of clothing to replace the tattered garments that had fallen victim to the thorns. It took her an entire day and gave Varden a chance to rest his feet.

She didn't do the job she would like to have done. It always seemed that when she was fashioning clothing out of animal hide there was never enough time to cure it properly. But she scraped the hide clean with her knife and wore it inside out, promising to work on it a bit each night until she had it the way she wanted it.

The rest seemed to help Varden and he kept up without complaining for the next two days. Zenaria cut the pace down a little, taking time to hunt along the way. She noted that she was not the only predator. In addition to the heavy dogs there were prides of lions and several other members of the cat family, one of which she recognized as a form of leopard. She kept clear of the cats knowing how territorial they could be. As before game was plentiful, but she was becoming concerned about the lack of fruit and vegetables. She recognized no edible plants although she was certain she must be walking past dozens. However, this was not the time to experiment. Given time she hoped that she might find a settlement - one that she hoped would be friendly. However, she had to find a settlement first, and so she and Varden kept trekking toward the cone-shaped mountain. If nothing else, the height would provide view of the distance and an idea of where to go next.

The mountain now loomed very large. Zenaria realized that she had vastly underestimated its size. It was at least as tall as the great ranges that flanked her homeland. The once flat land now sloped noticeably as they began to climb toward it. Other parts of the landscape changed as well. Water was no longer a problem as numerous streams flowed out from the mountain and headed out across the plain. For the first time since being dropped in this strange land Zenaria and Varden were able to bathe.

They chose a place where a dip in the land had created conditions where a rapidly flowing stream pitched over a hard rock ledge carving a deep basin that overflowed and splashed away into the distance. It was only midday, but the heat was intense and neither Varden nor Zenaria could resist the water.

"We'll camp here," Zenaria proclaimed. "We have water, plentiful game, and I may be able to find some plants that look promising."

Varden agreed. He was already stripping off his clothing. Zenaria looked appraisingly at his tall, well-muscled body. An hour in the water and then she and Varden could lie on the rocks and dry off. And then perhaps... She licked her lips. She and Varden had not made love since her encounter with the rhino. Now she felt fully healed and it was time to make up for lost opportunities.

She smiled as she removed her clothing and followed Varden into the pool. To her pleasant surprise the water was not as cold as she had expected. She was used to the frigid waters of her northern home and this was pure luxury. She swam for a bit enjoying the silky smooth feel of the cool water on her skin and then ducked her head and swam underwater until she reached Varden. Surfacing, she placed her hand on his head and ducked him under.

He fought back to the surface and returned the favour holding his hand on her head until she was almost level with his knees. She could not resist grabbing hold of a convenient appendage. She surfaced laughing. "Now I have you right where I want you."

"Be careful with that, princess. You wouldn't want to break it."

Zenaria could feel his shaft rapidly getting harder and was having second thoughts abut a long swim. There was another form of exercise she suddenly found much more inviting. Releasing Varden, she swam slowly toward the shore and beckoned the knight to follow.

It only took a heartbeat to realize that something was wrong. With a rising sense of alarm, she looked about for their clothing and weapons and saw nothing. Then through the trees, six men stepped forward, all of them armed and three of them holding crossbows. They were almost immediately backed up by more than a dozen others who ranged themselves in a semicircle behind the first six. Zenaria noted that three of them were armed with bows as well.

She and Varden were trapped. Even though the knight was still in the pool there was no place for him to go and he would have been an easy target for any archers stationed on the bank. She stood naked in front of a score of armed men and was helpless to do anything about it. But surrender was not on her mind. She had been enslaved once before and was not about to let it happen again. She would let them kill her first.

Varden stepped out of the water behind her. Moving beside her he placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. "Zenaria…"

"No," she said quietly. "I will not let them take me."

One of the men stepped forward. He was a little taller than most of his men and like all of them heavily bearded. He grinned through his dark hair. "Your man is right. Attempt to fight or escape and we will put more quills in you than a porcupine."

Zenaria replied before she realized that she had no trouble understanding everything the man had said. Apparently the spell of tongues that the evil magician, Junal had placed on her and Varden was still working. Either that or by some incredible twist of fate the people of this strange land spoke the same language she did, and that did not seem likely.

"You are slavers," Zenaria said. "I am useless to you maimed or dead. I will not surrender."

Varden dropped his hand. "I too will fight. You will have to kill us both."

"Have it your way," the man said. He stepped back and motioned to his men.

Two men who had been standing behind the others emerged from each end of the line of slavers. They moved with practiced ease as they hurled their weighted nets. Zenaria and Varden did not anticipate nets. They tried to duck under them, but the nets were thrown expertly and the entangling folds engulfed them before they could move.

Snared in the folds of the nets, Zenaria and Varden fought wildly to throw the entanglements off, but the slavers quickly pounced on them, knocking them off their feet and then pinning them to the ground. The trapped warriors struggled frantically, trying to punch and kick their captors away, but they were easily held down while still more men swarmed forward carrying ropes.

The man who had ordered the attack stood over them while his comrades reached through the netting and looped ropes about their wrists and ankles. Zenaria and Varden struggled; resisting with all of their considerable strength, but their efforts were futile against the strength of the several men who pinned their arms and legs while they were bound.

Breathing heavily both captives were dragged to their feet as the nets were removed. Their wrists had been bound in front of them and a short length of rope connected their ankles. Running or kicking was impossible and although Zenaria and Varden could move their arms they were held by a man on either side of them, rendering them helpless.

The slaver who had spoken to them before surveyed them but made no attempt to touch either of them. Both Zenaria and Varden were taller than him by at least a head and in spite of the fact that they were completely helpless he still seemed a little afraid of them.

Zenaria also had a chance to study the slavers. They were all similar in appearance. Most were swarthy with dark hair and beards that reached down to their chests although one or two had lighter hair and one was even redheaded. They all wore sturdy leather boots, into which were tucked into trousers of blue, red, yellow, and orange. The shirts they wore rivalled the trousers for colour and they wore numerous rings on their fingers and in their ears as well as bead necklaces.

Their colourful mode of dress was only matched by their menacing appearance. They were all heavily armed carrying everything from the usual swords and knives, to axes and spiked clubs, along with a few bows and crossbows. Most wore some sort of light armour as well, in addition to leather helmets.

Zenaria glared unflinchingly at the slaver leader as he examined her. She had experienced such degradation before when she had been taken prisoner by the Sandakar, but found it no less easy now as the slaver leader ran his eyes over her body. She had to force herself not to struggle as he slowly circled her. That resolution lasted, however, only as long as he did not touch her. As the slaver ran his fingers down her back she lurched forward forcing the men holding her to pull back, and then she went with them, slamming the back of her head into the nose of the man fondling her. There was a very satisfying crunch followed by a yelp of pain.

"You bitch!" came a cry from behind her.

There was a chorus of laughter from the other slavers, including the men holding Zenaria. "She got you good, Queron. Looks like she doesn't like your touch."

Queron moved back into view. He was holding his nose as blood streamed between his fingers. "Voln take you," he cursed. He waved his arm toward her. "Jag, Krek; help Plon and Yerbow string her up. She's going to be taught some manners."

The comment resulted in Varden trying to break free, but one of the slavers drove the haft of his axe heavily into the knight's belly, taking most of the fight out of him and leaving him slumped in the arms of his captors. "Him too," Queron ordered. "He can watch."

Zenaria struggled to pull free as she and Varden were dragged up the slope of the pool to a tall tree that stood on its edge. From the way that they were tied she suspected that the slavers had intended to do this to them anyway, but she wasn't about to go quietly to her fate. But step by step she was dragged closer until they had her under the branches.

A rope was tossed over an overhanging branch and attached to the ropes binding her wrists. In quick order her arms were pulled over her head until she was standing on her toes. Varden was strung up in an identical manner from a tree just short distance away, his body positioned so that they could se one another.

Queron moved forward a short whip in his hand. A trickle of blood still ran from his nose and the look on his face was far from pleasant. "I should skin you alive you barbarian bitch, but you might be worth more to me in one piece. Let's find out."

He tucked the whip into his belt and moved so close to her that Zenaria could smell his sweat and determine the contents of his last meal, but there was nothing she could do to avoid him. He started by running his hands over the muscles of her arms. Watching this, Varden bellowed with rage. But Queron paid him not the least notice, keeping up a running commentary as he touched her.

"Muscled like an Urulanan warrior. I didn't think any other races came in their shape and size." He circled her, running a hand over the powerful muscles of her shoulders and back and then moving to her hips and buttocks. She trembled like a horse as he caressed the curve of her buttocks, an action that could not go unnoticed.

"Do you like that, barbarian? Perhaps it can be an everyday part of our relationship."

"You will die for this," Zenaria said, between clenched teeth. The casual examination of her body was acutely degrading. She had endured such an inspection before and all of the shame and helplessness came back with a rush. She couldn't look at Varden and tried to shut out the sound of his rage as Queron's exploration of her body became more and more intimate.

She quivered with anger as he squeezed her breasts and pinched her nipples. "Tits like a goddess," Queron observed. "But the real money is down here."

"You are filth," Zenaria gasped, almost jumping as he cupped her mound of womanhood. Sweat was dripping off her body and she could not control her breathing.

Queron leered at her, sensing her fear and humiliation. His fingers flexed and he grinned as Zenaria jumped. "That is where the money is," the slaver jeered, "but I wish I had found different. Who would have thought such a magnificent piece of flesh would still be a virgin? What's the matter with your friend? Does he drift the wrong way?"

Zenaria almost wanted to defend Varden's manhood by revealing the truth, but she knew that Queron's mistaken conclusion was all that was keeping her from being subjected to a brutal rape that would probably not stop until every one of the slavers had been satisfied. It was something she did not have the courage to face, no matter how much the slaver leader angered her. So she merely glowered at him and held her piece while he continued his humiliating examination of her body.

By the time he was finished, she was flushed with shame. Her arms and shoulders ached from her suspended bondage and her body itched from the bites of the small biting flies that swarmed about and drinking her sweat. But Queron was far from through with her.

"I'd like to know where you got this," Queron said as he motioned to his men and several of them stepped forward. They placed a bundle on the ground that Queron quickly opened, revealing the weapons, armour, and gifts that Zenaria and Varden had thought they had hidden.

Zenaria cursed herself for a fool. The fact that Queron had the treasures they had stashed for safekeeping meant that he had been watching them for some time. She had been so intent on taking in the sights of this new land and watching out for possible dangers that she had overlooked the most dangerous animal of all. Now she and Varden were prisoners of men who would not hesitate to subject either of them to the most brutal and degrading of ordeals.

"Now," he continued. "Where did you get these treasures and why had you decided to hide them."

Zenaria tried to explain. But her story of a powerful wizard who had transported them from his country to the middle of nowhere did not go down well.

"Do you take me for a fool?" the slaver asked. "Your story makes no sense." He shook his whip at Varden. "Tell me what I want to know, or I will flay the skin from your companion's hide."

"I cannot tell you anything more than the truth," Zenaria said. "Torture will not make me change my story as there is no other explanation."

At that point one of the slavers stepped forward. "I told you it was sorcery. I say we enjoy the woman, geld the man and have done with them."

A number of the other slavers seemed to agree. Although Queron seemed to be the leader it was apparent that he did not rule without the consent of his men. But he was not about to have his most valuable acquisition devalued.

"Intact she's worth a fortune. Deflowered she's just another barbarian slave, fit for nothing more than the arena. I'll leave her and the man in the sun for a bit. Perhaps they'll change their tunes when they've had a bit more time to think about it."

---

She had been spared rape, and Gron's timely intervention had prevented Queron from flogging Varden, but by evening she was beginning to wonder if their current ordeal was not every bit as bad. Her shoulders and arms which had merely ached before now burned in fiery torment. The insect bites which had only been a minor irritation now burned as if a thousand red hot needles had been pushed into her skin. She was desperate for water, her lips so chaffed from licking them that they bled, and she was so dehydrated that she could barely stand, her weight resting on the ropes that bound her wrists as her legs refused to support her.

Varden was no better. In spite of his tremendous strength she could see that he too had almost collapsed, his fingers gripping the ropes in a desperate attempt to hold himself up. But she could not change her story. Nothing she could tell Queron would have made the least sense, and finally he got tired of waiting for her to tell him what he wanted to here.

"Cut them down," he ordered. "We'll get it out of them sooner or later. In the meantime we've got other game to hunt."

His apparent change in attitude was not born out of impatience or any desire to spare his victims; it occurred because of a report brought back by one of the scouts. "Urulana," the man called Daget said. "About fifteen; half of them women. "They're tracking the wildebeest. If we play it right we can lure them here and spring a trap on them."

Zenaria and Varden were allowed to lie where they fell, while Queron and his men planned their attack. It was apparent that they had carried out such operations many times before and the fact that they outnumbered the opposition two to one was strongly in their favour. "We'll lure them here," Queron said. "If we position the nets just right they should find themselves in a trap that they can't escape."

The planning went on for quite some time, eventually ending after sundown. Zenaria and Varden were dragged into the centre of the campground. For the first time since they had been captured they were given water but in spite of their rather sorry condition their captors took no chances. A crude framework was fashioned from two thick poles, which were placed parallel to their shoulders on either side of their necks and then tied together with rawhide. The poles constricted Zenaria's and Varden's breathing, but it was made even more uncomfortable by stretching their arms to either side and lashing them to the poles at the wrists and elbows. It was a humiliating and painful position that left both captives struggling to breathe. Guarded by two of the slavers, both captives were forced to make themselves as comfortable as they could as the camp settled down for the night.

Zenaria and Varden eventually fell into an exhausted sleep.

---

Being forced to lie down with their arms spread wide made it impossible to find any position that was comfortable and made it almost impossible to get a proper sleep. They awoke with the birds and lay there until the rest of the camp stirred. Then they were given water and forced to their feet. They were led to the middle of the camp and placed back to back and then their outstretched arms were tied together and they were tied to a stake set in the middle of the camp.

It dawned on Zenaria as the slavers proceeded with their preparation that she and Varden were part of the trap. They were set up so that anyone entering the campground would see them first. Meanwhile the slavers went to setting up the rest of their trap. They cut down saplings and erected barriers of stakes along one side of the camp. When they were finished the stakes and the deep pool on the other side formed a narrow channel the far end of which was hung with the nets the slavers had used on her and Varden. Zenaria guessed was that the trick was to somehow lure the Urulana, into the area and then close in on them from behind.

Their preparations made, most of the slavers slipped off into the surrounding trees leaving Zenaria and Varden almost alone. Zenaria wondered about the Urulana. Who were these people the slavers wanted to trap? She had heard them referred to occasionally by Queron and others and always as if they were people to be feared. With no way of escaping she simply waited to see what was going to happen.

It was an exhausting wait. She and Varden were almost done in. They had not eaten for more than a day and had been given only a couple of mouthfuls of water and the ordeal of being hung up like dead deer had taken much out of them. The say seemed to pass with incredible slowness and then suddenly there was a shout from somewhere out on the plain. The shout was followed by what sounded like war cries. The latter sound moved progressively closer and then two of the slavers burst into sight. They hesitated for a second, looking back toward the sounds of their pursuers and then ran straight across the clearing. A few seconds later they were followed by an amazing group of warriors.

Their skins were as brown as ripe chestnuts and their long dark hair stretched to the middle of their backs. Each was as tall as Zenaria; in fact two or three of them were even taller. They were scantily clad, wearing little more than coverings for their loins. Even their feet were bare. This was made up for in part by the gold armbands and bracelets they wore and the strings of bead necklaces draped about their necks. They slowed and then stopped as they entered the clearing, looking suspiciously around and then focussing their attention on Zenaria and Varden.

Zenaria wanted to scream out a warning, but could only manage a faint croak. She could hear Varden also trying to speak, but he could do no more than she could, and then the trap closed. From behind the Urulanans came the slavers. They were armed with a solid wall of long spears cut from tall saplings. The brown-skinned warriors who were armed only with long spears and knives, backed away, stabbing overhand at their attackers.

It was a bit one-sided and got even more so as other slavers attacked from behind the loose palisade of stakes they had driven into the ground. As in the case of their attack on Zenaria and Varden they did not attempt to kill but to capture. Using long poles to which were attached ropes, they snagged the trapped warriors, drawing them within range and then used clubs to knock them senseless. Within short order five warriors were down and several more bleeding from minor wounds.

The remaining ten edged away from the palisade realizing it was their greatest danger. It broke their front, allowing the slavers with the sharpened poles to surge forward, driving the dark-skinned warriors in front of them.

One warrior refused to retreat. She was powerfully built and handled her spear with such skill that for a few seconds she brought the slavers' advance to a halt. Leaping daringly forward she stabbed at the men hold the long poles, at the same time deflecting any of the sharp points that came her way. But it was one against a dozen and she had to retreat as more slavers came out from behind the stakes armed with nets similar to those that had brought down Zenaria and Varden.

The daring of the tall woman rallied her companions and they came back in a wave, driven by desperation as much as inspiration. For a few heartbeats they drove back the slavers, even drawing blood in spite of the forest of spears that they faced. But the nets flew through the air snaring three of them and throwing the others into disarray. More of the snares struck out catching two more and dragging them toward the slavers. With a roar of rage the tall woman attacked, her hair streaming out behind her as she charged. She made no attempt to protect herself but threw herself at the slavers stabbing again and again as she closed with them.

For a few steps the slavers were again driven back several bleeding from stab wounds. One fell and with a quick movement of her spear the woman ran him through before he could escape. But it was her last act of defiance. A well aimed club struck her on the temple momentarily stunning her and she was immediately swarmed. With the loss of their leader there was little resistance and the rest of the warriors were quickly overcome. Within short order they joined Zenaria and Varden in bondage.

"Not a bad haul," Queron said, "even if we did lose Lahg and Rendel. All the greater share for the rest of us." He was bleeding from a cut on his arm, but was otherwise unhurt. Zenaria noticed a number of the slavers had minor wounds, but nothing too debilitating. It had been a thoroughly one-sided victory and they now had fifteen captives to show for their efforts.

Queron bound his arm and began his examination of his prisoners. "A fine lot," he said. "Fine physical specimens. The men should fetch a Half Talent each, and the women…"

He took his usual time with the women most of whom appeared terrified. Only the tall warrior who had led the resistance showed any defiance. As Queron moved in front of her she spat in his face. He calmly wiped away the spittle and shoved his hand between her legs. "The only virgin in the bunch," he commented. "That is too bad. I will have to find another way of teaching you a lesson."

The woman glared at him. "Do what you want hyena. I am a Princess of the Urulana. I don't fear you."

"No," Queron said, "but if you defy me this is what is going to happen to your friends."

He singled out one of the women. "This one." He turned back to the Urulanan Princess. "A different one each night that you defy me."

"No," the princess protested. "Not her. Take me instead."

"You're worth more intact, princess. But your companions are already used goods. We have a long trek to get to the slave markets and you are gong to give me full cooperation. And this is what is going to happen if I don't get it."

The next few hours were filled with horror as the captives watched the slavers rape one of the Urulanan warriors. At first she tried to be brave and made not the slightest sound, but the slavers were anything but gentle and eventually she made the noises Queron and his men wanted. They she cried out, begging them to stop, eventually falling silent near the end as sheer exhaustion overtook her. It was the most horrific scene Zenaria had ever witnessed and she vowed brutal vengeance on the men who dared commit such an atrocity. But for now, she was helpless and rendered compliant by Queron's threat. He would hold the other female captives hostage for her and the Urulanan Princess's good behaviour. Even if she was not on the verge of collapse she dared not offer any resistance if it meant that the other helpless women would suffer.

---

The night of horror passed. Somehow Zenaria managed to sleep and the next morning she awoke, tired, hungry, and so thirsty she would have drunk her own urine. The young Urulana who had been raped was freed and ordered to tend to the other captives. Although the girl could barely walk, she moved from one captive to the other bringing them food and water. For a short time one of Zenaria's arms was freed so that she could drink and eat. Her legs were also untied and she was walked under guard to the edge of the camp where she could perform her bodily functions.

She was returned to the camp and lined up with the other captives. They formed a long column, each one linked by a rope to the one in front. Their arms tied straight out from their shoulders, they were forced to march, the slavers flanking them carrying lengths of rope that they used to hurry anyone who lagged.

Not that anyone deliberately held up the march. Anyone who slowed down was jerked painfully forward by the person in front of them. The person in front suffered as well and the slavers were quick to use the rope bringing it down hard across their shoulders.

Zenaria received a number of these blows, not because she was too slow, but because the slavers chose to strike her and anyone else they chose out of pure amusement. Varden too was a special target, as was the Urulanan princess. The indiscriminate beating continued until Queron ordered it to stop out of fear that the selling price of their captives might be reduced if they were marked up.

Even without the beatings, the march was a brutal ordeal. Although she was now given enough water the painful position of her arms made movement difficult and she had to force herself forward to maintain the pace the slavers demanded. The sun beat down on her, blistering her fair skin in spite of the tan she had acquired, and with each rest it was harder and harder to force herself to her feet. Fortunately, the slavers rested often, stopping three times before noon to make sure their captives had enough water to maintain the pace. There was a longer stop at noon so that a brief meal could be eaten. In spite of Queron's brutality he was no fool. He wanted to insure that every one of his valuable captives made it to market.

That night they camped before nightfall and set up the same thorn-protected camp that Zenaria had used when she and Varden had camped. They were given water and food and for the first time in a day were allowed to sleep without being tied to the cruel frames. But it didn't matter. Queron was a good judge of his captives. There was not a one; including Zenaria who had the energy to do anything more than flop on the ground and sink into an exhausted sleep. And Queron kept them that way, marching them just hard enough for the next few days that they could do little more than collapse at the end of each exhausting day.

For the proud Snow Leopard warrior Queron's treatment amounted to the cruellest of humiliations. He had rendered her helpless; too beaten to do anything more than place one foot in front of the other on what seemed a never-ending march. But Zenaria knew that sooner or later it would end; and when it did she would find herself a captive in a situation from which she might not be able to escape. Somehow, before they reach their destination she had to find a way to get away. But as each day flowed painfully into the next and she became ever more exhausted and dispirited it seemed that this time she might be doomed.

Continued in Chapter 4

---