Tales of Erogenia: Book 3 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4:  Cats

Seven cycles of the sun found Zenaria and her fellow slaves exhausted almost beyond endurance. Bitten by flies, exposed to the unrelenting sun and enervating wind, and forced to march tied to the cruel horizontal yoke, every step became pure torture. Added to that the repeated blows of the slavers' rope ends; and the occasional encounter with poisonous snakes, the march became a nightmare. Even at night they were yoked and exposed to attacks by scorpions and monstrous centipedes. All that kept them going were the frequent rest and water stops. Queron and his brutal companions seemed to have a fine sense of just how hard they could drive their captives without causing total collapse.

In spite of her exhaustion, Zenaria could not help noticing that the slavers constantly checked behind them as if they were being followed.

"The Urulana," Zenaria thought. "Of course. Queron has the Urulana Princess. It is only natural they would pursue."

There was not much she could do with the knowledge. The painful position of her arms left her helpless to do anything more than place one foot in front of the other and then collapse whenever a rest was offered.

Communication between the prisoners was limited. The slavers did not allow conversation, and they were usually too tired to do more than flop down each time they were given a chance to rest. Zenaria was, however, able to study her fellow captives; especially the Urulanan Princess who she learned was called Sulia. Although she was equally helpless it was clear that she tried to be an example to the other slaves, holding her head high and attempting to stare down any of the slavers who met her eye. That small act of defiance was usually followed by a beating, usually delivered by the slavers' fists as they were reluctant to mar her splendid body in any way. "You don't damage the goods," as Queron put it.

Zenaria would have been equally defiant, but Queron soon figured out a way to force her cooperation. Instead of beating her, he beat Varden, forcing her to lower her eyes in order to keep her lover from being punished on her account. She spent most of the day looking at the feet of the slave in front of her; fearful that her defiant gaze might bring pain to Varden. Only at night were she and Varden able to hold a whispered conversation, and by then they were usually so fatigued that they quickly fell asleep.

On the night of the seventh day, however, Zenaria was wide awake, listening in fearful fascination to the campfire conversation of the slavers. After the brutal rape of the Urulana warrior, the slavers had tempered their violence - but only because they wanted to keep their captives in condition to continue the gruelling journey. But the farther away they got from the white mountain, the more the slavers looked at the other Urulanan women.

"I think it's about time we got them accustomed to their future," Gron said. "We've shaken off any pursuit. The Urulana don't even know which way we've gone. We should enjoy the fruits of our labours. Our customers will thank us for it. The Urulanan bitches will be more cooperative."

"Not yet," Queron argued. "We want the slaves to keep up. It's taken the one we fucked until now to get her legs back. We don't want to slow down. Wait a few more days."

Gron grabbed his crotch. "I say we're far enough away. Giving a couple of them some of this won't hurt as long as we share it between the other five. You can keep the two virgins."

Zenaria listened in horror as the slavers casually discussed raping the Urulana prisoners. It was as if they were talking about what they intended to cook for supper. It sent chills down her spine to realize that they could have been talking about her if Varden had not restored her virginity. She was almost sick with anger as the argument continued.

Cowards! she thought. They deserve to die, and I can do nothing to help.

"Let's vote on it," Daget said. "It's the way we've always done things."

There was a general chorus of agreement. It was obvious that even before the vote what the answer would be. A few feet away Varden growled in anger, but like Zenaria he was helpless to do more that express his frustration.

Zenaria heard Queron vote no, then the vote went through the slavers. One by one they voiced their agreement with Gron, their voices interrupted only by the usual animal screams that filled the night. Especially one animal scream that sent shivers of recognition down Zenaria's spine.

Without thinking, she reached out with her animal sense and found something she recognized. It was another mind; but one so unlike hers that the images she encountered were almost incoherent. They were violent, sensual images, filled with blood, smells, and primal urges. They were so intense that she almost shut them out of her mind. But they were familiar images as well; images she had shared many times with the giant snow leopard she called Jaree. She forced her mind to relax; to become part of the violent sensual world of the great hunting beast.

"Sister," she sent, "I need you." Images flooded her mind again; savage, bloody, almost erotically cruel images that she had to fight through. "Sister," she sent again. "Help me. Help your sister." She sent images of fire, ropes, and pain. Of vicious brutes threatening her cubs; of the slavers and their dark slavering, brutal faces.

She got a single, almost painfully sharp reply: "I come."

The reply was in fact nothing that could be determined as speech the way humans thought of it, but as series of images that somehow conveyed consent and friendship; or at least as much friendship as a cat could muster. Zenaria waited every muscled tense. She had done all she could now all she could do was let events transpire.

The voting was over. As Zenaria had already foreseen the slavers had chosen to enjoy their female captives immediately. Like vultures on dead meat, they descended on their helpless female victims.

"No," Sulia protested, as she watched her female companions dragged toward the light of the fire. Each of the women struggled pitifully, terribly aware of what was going to happen to them, but like true warriors they battled in silence while their princess raged.

"Cowards!" Sulia screamed. "Hyenas, jackals! Take me instead!"

Queron walked over and stood in front of her. In spite of his opposition to the rape, he had been quite content to take part in the lottery that followed, in which each man took straws to determine when it would be his turn. He looked down at the helpless Urulanan Princess and licked his lips. Then he bent and straddled her nude body, pressing her into he ground and eliciting a grunt as his weight pushed the air from her lungs.

"Don't ever think you might not join them, princess. Valuable as you are, I'm almost tempted to take you as my share - instead of selling you for gold." He motioned toward Zenaria. "I've already got one prize virgin. It might be fun to listen to you scream on your first night." He fondled her breasts as he spoke, squeezing and kneading the firm flesh, and ended by twisting her nipples so hard that Sulia winced. "Now shut your mouth or you're like to find something in it you hadn't counted on." He finished with an obscene gesture and went back to where his men were readying their night's entertainment.

One of the young women had already been untied from the yoke that restrained her. Four slavers held each of her arms and legs while another performed a lewd and suggestive dance in front of her, playing with his swelling phallus and taunting her as she was held for his pleasure. She fought bravely, her firm young breasts quivering and her body arching as she attempted to hold off the inevitable; but other than her heavy breathing she made not a sound.

Unable to turn away from the sickening scene, Zenaria watched, her pulse racing as the slaver moved between the woman's legs. "By the Moon, Sun and the Snow Leopard, please hurry," she murmured.

A blood-freezing scream answered her cry, and a mottled gold and black shape hurdled the thorn boma and plunged into the camp. It tore into the surprised and terrified slavers almost before they knew it was there.

In her sending, Zenaria had tried to differentiate between the slavers and their captives, but she knew that the terrible beast raging through the camp would not necessarily be able to tell the difference between friend and foe. But alone among the captives, she had been hoping and anticipating the attack, and she moved as soon as the leopard pounced.

While the screams of the slavers sounded in her ears, she rolled to her feet and headed toward the closest fire. There were two of them, one at each end of the camp to deter animals. Reaching it she fell on her back so that the right arm of the yoke was in the flames. She stifled a cry as the fire seared her flesh, forcing herself to endure the pain while the ropes holding her wrist and elbow burned. In a few seconds the ropes gave and she wrenched herself away. Using her free arm she quickly untied the ropes holding her other arm and those holding the yoke around her neck and then got to her feet.

After so many days with the yoke tied to her neck and arms she swayed unsteadily, but she fought off the dizziness. In the middle of the camp, the leopard was creating havoc, but that might not last long. Even a beast as powerful as a leopard could not hope to kill all of the slavers before they killed her. She needed to free the other prisoners.

Snatching up a knife one of the slavers had dropped, she ran to Varden and cut him loose. Then she moved to the Urulanan prisoners, freeing one of the men and handing him the knife. Without waiting to see what he would do with it, but hoping he had the good sense to free the others, she ran to join Varden who was already moving toward the slavers.

Weapons were not hard to find. The slavers near the campfire had abandoned theirs when the leopard attacked and Zenaria picked up a sword and a knife. By now the slavers had formed a defence against the raging leopard, forming a wall bristling with knifes and swords. On the edge of that wall the leopard screamed and struck at them with her claws trying to find a way past their defence. Without hesitation Zenaria and Varden joined the fray.

Her first blow took off the hand of the slaver nearest her and her backhand ripped across the throat of a second. She used the knife to block a blow from another of the slavers and then stabbed her blade into his belly. Beside her, Varden was swinging his sword two-handed, each blow taking off a limb or cleaving a skull. He seemed oblivious to the return blows aimed at him.

Their frenzied attack broke the ranks of the slavers and the leopard charged into the gap, taking down two men, ripping and tearing at them with its teeth and claws. Trapped between Zenaria, Varden, and the leopard and the boma they had erected, many of the slavers fought desperately, but a few panicked, attempting to break through their own thorn barrier. The result was predictable with the slavers being treated to a dose of what had happened to Zenaria. They were ripped to shreds by their own defence.

And then several of the Urulana arrived, led by Sulia. The last of the slavers broke, attempting to flee but unable to get past the thorn barrier. At that point the remainder threw down their weapons and begged for mercy.

They were ignored, the freed captives showing no mercy. One after the other, they were cut down until only Queron, Daget, and Gron remained, somehow having managed to get themselves as far away from the actual fighting as they could. At this point Sulia's anger seemed to wane. "Not those three," she shouted. "I have something special for them."

Zenaria held her blade as did Varden and the others. Somehow Zenaria also managed to calm the leopard who came to her side like a giant house cat, a purr rumbling in its throat in spite of the numerous wounds that marred its beautiful markings.

Sulia and the Urulana warriors stared at Zenaria in wonder. "You command the beasts," the tall princess said, her voice filled with awe.

Zenaria, however, was exhausted, the efforts having drained her reserves of strength. Most of the Urulana were in a similar state, and Zenaria motioned to the three slavers and the others caught her meaning. Quickly they were bound, and Zenaria felt safe in putting down her sword. But she wasn't about to completely relax. "We must watch them," she advised.

"I will arrange a guard," Sulia said. She spoke quickly to the other Urulana who quickly worked out a roster for watching the prisoners. All of them were exhausted so each was given only a short watch. That done they attended to preparing as meal. The slavers had not exactly starved their captives, but they had kept them on short rations to insure their cooperation. Now they raided the slavers' stores and made up for a week of fasting.

They ate quickly, too fatigued to engage in much conversation and retired to their sleeping places, too tired to bother with anything more than the ground the slavers had forced them to sleep on.

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Zenaria awoke early. She had fed the leopard as a reward for her service, but sometime during the night the animal had returned to the wild, leaving no trace other than the ravaged corpses of its victims. Several of the Urulana were awake as well, having been arouse by the noise of the scavengers as they circled the camp trying to find a way through the boma in search of a meal.

"We cannot stay herewith," Varden said. "Let us abandon this place and I will attend to thine injuries."

Zenaria had to agree. Already the bodies were beginning to stink and she wanted to be away from the sounds of the circling scavengers. Although still suffering from their ordeal, they prepared to leave the camp. First, however, there was the little matter of the three slavers to deal with.

"They are rapists," Zenaria said. "They should be impaled."

Having witnessed their brutal treatment of the Urulana women, Varden did not disagree. But Sulia had an even better idea. She took out her knife and called to her warriors. "Help me bind them. We will leave them alive, but they will wish we had not."

The punishment was carried out with savage efficiency. The three slavers were tied to three sides of a tree, their arms over their heads. Then the punishment began. The slavers first begged for mercy and then begged for death. Sulia's blade worked quickly, shedding very little blood, but it was gruesome work and even Zenaria had to look away when the Urulanan Princess made her final cuts. The shrieks as the bloody stumps of their manhoods were cauterized were truly horrifying, but no more than they deserved.

Stony-faced she and Varden followed the others through the gap in the boma and left the hyenas to feed. The screams of the slavers faded in the distance as they moved farther and farther away, finally stopping altogether. Zenaria wondered if it was because they were too far away or whether the hyenas had finally done their work.

They did not go far. Even in this remote part of their territory the Urulana had no trouble finding water and they settled in a cluster of rocks where they could easily defend their camp. They had hunted along the way, bringing down two of the cow-like herd animals, which Zenaria learned were called gnus. She learned the names of the other beasts as well, filling in a proper vocabulary for the huge variety of animals of the plain.

In the new camp, Varden worked his healing magic. He wanted to deal with Zenaria first, but she insisted that he deal with the woman who had been raped, and the other Urulana first. While the Urulana looked on in amazement he healed the woman - her bruises and minor cuts sustained in battle disappearing. Zenaria knew that she was going to get a surpise as was every other woman Varden healed, when they found out they were once again virgins. She wondered what kind of reaction there would be when they discovered what his healing had done.

Eventually it was Zenaria's turn. Her main injuries were the burns she had sustained in freeing herself. The few cuts she had received in the fighting were minor and would heal of themselves, leaving honourable scars. But she knew that Varden's healing powers were indiscriminate and all injuries would be healed. However, she was not about to deny herself the opportunity to receive a month's healing simply for a display of battle honours. She suspected that she would need all of her skills and strength, and she let Varden heal her for the second time in just days.

The healing left Varden exhausted and an object of awe to the Urulana. "Surely he is a great shaman as well as a warrior," Sulia observed. "The spirits were with us when we were brought together."

Varden blushed. In spite of his rather conservative attitudes, Varden was not one to boast of his abilities and he was modest to a fault, attributing his abilities to his faith in his rather staid deity. She and the knight had not gotten along at all well when they first met, even if Varden had saved her life twice in just a few days. He seemed terribly good at that and was now up to three rescues, much to Zenaria's exasperation. However, she allowed him his moment of glory, even going so far as to add her praises to Sulia's.

"He is blessed in many areas," Zenaria smiled. "Sadly his recent labours have probably left him too tired to display his other talents."

Varden's colour deepened and Sulia regarded Zenaria strangely. "Are you not sister and brother?"

Now it was Zenaria's turn to blush. "It was a story we invented to deceive the slavers," she confessed. "Varden and I also have been thrown together by chance."

"We will discuss this further in my home. You must return to with us to the Mountain of Fire."

Zenaria was not certain what the Urulana Princess meant, but she nodded her agreement. "We would be honoured, princess."

It was interesting how things worked out. She and Varden had been trying to reach the impressive mountain before being captured by the slavers, hoping that there might be a settlement there. Now it seemed that they were to be taken there as honoured guests. Sometimes things did seem to be ordained by the gods.

Continued in Chapter 5

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