She was breathing hard, her golden eyes bright and wide with shock as she stared back at him.
'Forgive me,' she whispered. 'I meant only...' she shook her head and lowered her eyes from his. Submission? Now?
'Oh, please do tell me what you meant female,' he hissed, taking a step toward her. 'Now that you have my attention once more.'
Her head snapped up immediately and when she spoke again it was with that proud tilt to her chin. Her submission was forced and fleeting, as he suspected it might be.
'I ask that you allow me to sleep outside,' her eyes went over his shoulder, where he knew Iaria waited with her eyes down. 'You cannot expect... you cannot mean for me to be here while you... you cannot.' She shook her head again.
'I cannot?' He repeated. 'You dare tell me what I can and cannot do?'
She said nothing.
'You dare question what I expect of you?'
She swallowed. 'I merely request that you permit me sleep outside, my Lord.' He saw once more the difficulty she had in using the address. He noted also how she spoke as though she had the right to ask. Merely. As though entitled to it. As though it would be unreasonable for him to deny it.
'You think the walls of this tent would shield your modest ears, female?'
She stiffened, her eyes flicking up and over Theodan's shoulder. 'Perhaps not, but I still request it of you.' It sounded more like a demand.
'You are in no position to make requests,' he pointed out, the irritation coursing through his veins.
'It's barbaric,' she fired back.
Despite himself, he smirked. Then he considered having her chained and forced to watch as he took Iaria of Asalla. That, he thought, would be barbaric.
He took a step closer to her and lowered his voice. 'I know you are untouched female, but what I intend to do to her, I assure you she will more than enjoy - barbaric or no. Perhaps you might choose to look upon it as a lesson of sorts?' He smiled.
She narrowed her eyes. 'I will do no such thing.'
'You will do as I command.'
'I will not remain here while you couple with your painted whore!'
'You will hold your insolent tongue!' he roared.
Cassine flinched, as behind him Iaria gasped. He felt her fear then, it blew over him like a soft breeze. Almost as though she knew exactly what she had done. Almost as though she knew exactly what must happen now.
Iaria was discreet, but if word of defiance like this going unpunished got back to his men, then he would not be able to recover what it lost him. He could of course order Iaria's silence, but to do so for such a wilful act of insolence would only complicate the matter further. A show of strength was needed. This female may have defied him in private, he may even have chosen to overlook it in private, but to insult his authority and his chosen female - well that was not an act that could be ignored.
He gave a long Look to Cassine before turning to Iaria. 'Dress,' he commanded, before bending to retrieve the cloth with which he covered himself once more.
Turning back to Cassine, he gave her a look which he hoped conveyed that she had brought this upon herself, then he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her out of the tent, commanding Iaria follow.
Cassine did not utter a word.
Not as he marched her out into the cool night air and down the small incline towards the clearing, not as he found an empty post in the pen and pulled her towards it, not as he called for the whip and the straps from the pen master, and not as he fastened the leather to her wrists.
When he pushed her back against the post she trembled against him, fear and confusion etched into her amber coloured eyes now. He considered what he might do if she pleaded with him, begged him not to do this. Asked his mercy. He considered it yet he was almost certain she would not. And I give you my promise that I will never beg you for anything, Leothine.
He lowered his face to hers, his lips almost upon her own. 'You will be struck seven times,' he told her. 'The first five will be thus: a strike for each letter of the word 'whore'. That word is not used in my realm; for it is not recognised in Leoth. But do not mistake me, female, I know well what it means. You think yourself better than her? You are not. You have not earned the right to insult this woman, and you will not insult this woman.' She blinked with confusion, shame fighting the fury in her eyes. 'That is your first lesson. The sixth strike will be for not holding your tongue in the presence of a loyal servant - a loyal servant of Leoth who learned that particular lesson a long time ago, and learned it well.' Cassine flicked her eyes once more to Iaria, who stood behind him, a calm and silent presence. 'The final strike will be both a warning and a reminder. A warning that I will not be disobeyed and defied like this again, and a reminder that your fate could still be far far worse than you consider it to be at this moment.'
Cassine said nothing, but her eyes glittered with their usual fire. He moved his mouth to her ear and inhaled deeply of her scent. His cöck throbbed desperately once more.
'The sooner you abandon your pride and forget your loyalty to Azura, the less painful these lessons will be for you,' he warned, quietly. 'The sooner you remember who spared you and who you belong to now, the more pleasurable these lessons will be for you.' He could hear her heart beat, her pulse thundering fast against the soft fragrant skin of her neck. His teeth sharpened against his tongue. He could all but taste her on it. He longed to taste her on it. Her pleasure, her flesh, her blood. Which punishment would she prefer if he gave her the choice, he wondered? Him or the whip? 'Tomorrow you will hurt - but tonight you will learn,' He told her softly before stepping back from her.
Glittering and silent, the tears slid down the skin of her smooth cheek. He wondered how they would taste.
Feeling a sudden momentary flash of guilt, he decided that if she could abandon her pride and ask him for mercy then he would give it. Without hesitation, he would give it. He would simply have to deal with the consequences of it as they arose.
'Do you wish mercy, Cassine?' he asked her quietly, strangely moved by the sight of what looked like liquid crystal sliding down her cheek. She stared at him hard, looking deep into his eyes; a place few were brave enough to look. Slowly, her eyes began to transform. Soft wet orbs to hardened glass.
'My word is as strong as your own, Leoth,' she hissed. 'I will never beg you for anything,' she said, chin raised. 'I await my lesson.'
The growl escaped his throat free of his command. Damn this female to every bloody God of Ethis.
He stepped towards her once more and took hold of her, spinning her around so that her front was pressed against the post. He felt her legs weaken slightly as he stretched her hands above her head to fix them into the hook which he swiftly lowered for her size.
Once she was secure he stepped back from her body and drank in the sight of her hanging there. Extending his nails, he reached out and sliced open the back of her white dress. She should have been left here naked as was the custom, but he did not want to display her like that in front of his men. Also, the chill had begun moving with purpose towards the land and she would be in pain enough. He retreated back towards Iaria and turned to face her.
'You are mine to command this night?' Theodan asked her in the customary fashion.
'I am, master.'
He handed her the whip.
'Seven strikes and then return to me.'
And with that Theodan left his consort to mete out the punishment he had long realised he was incapable of delivering.
***
He needed to send his men home. He could see the weariness draped over them, feel the effort each kill took them. They still out-skilled both the Zybar and Azurians, but each kill stole a little more life from them. The consorts kept them sated and revived, battle-ready while they were away from home, but they did not have the power to restore a Leoth's strength completely. Only Leoth could do that. The war was all but won, and he would tell King Torrik the same at this eve's war council. His men were going home.
Smoke filled the sky as the cries of the temple masters filled the air. The needless waste of life and property was beginning to choke him; pointless slaughter and destruction achieved nothing. Less than nothing. Climbing down from Nux, he commanded her to wait as he strode towards the broken temple.
The Golden Goddess stared down at him from her post, lowered lids, hands clasped in front. Azura. The realm's beautiful martyr. Ethis's only daughter was said to have driven men mad with her beauty. Even her own brother. Leoth The Dark had started The deadliest war Ethis had ever seen over his desire for his sister. Azura's own sacrifice had ended it. It was foretold that the Gods would return to reclaim Ethis one day, so why had she not returned to save her precious realm from its fate? Another realm destroyed by another war caused by love.
Love was a dangerous undertaking by all accounts, a madness of the mind; a madness that Theodan hoped he never lived to experience himself.
He took a last look up at the face of the goddess, noting that the curve of her full mouth reminded him of Cassine's. But then, a great many things scattered throughout this land had begun to remind him of her.
He had avoided The Pen entirely as he'd ridden out this morning. He knew not whether it was anger that kept him from her or something else. Guilt perhaps. At moonset, he'd left Iaria sleeping and gone to find Jhaan, ordering him to release Cassine as soon as he had left camp. He'd told him to have hot water, healing salve, fresh clothing and warm food waiting for her in the tent. He also told him to relay that he expected her duties to be carried out as had been discussed.
When Iaria had returned to his tent last night, exhausted and somewhat pensive, Theodan had asked only one question.
'Did she ask for mercy?
Iaria shook her head. 'She was silent. She is strong.'
'She is proud,' he countered, feeling a twinge of respect for the foolish female. 'Too proud to be a slave.
'She will learn,' said Iaria, as she'd straddled him. 'We all learn, master.' She whispered as she bent to kiss the frown on his brow.
After, he'd lain awake wondering if Iaria had guessed the reason behind what he'd done. If she had guessed the real reason he had commanded her to carry out the punishment. If she had guessed how much Cassine troubled and frustrated him. Iaria was perceptive. At times he liked this about her. Other times he did not. He'd slept little as he thought of his insolent little female, chained and proud. Gods, he should unclaim her. He should have her sent back to the slave camp to be taken by another. If he did that then she would be his concern no longer. Some other warrior could have the tiresome task of disciplining her.
The place where Azurians worshipped their Goddess had been beautiful. Its grandeur had been dulled, but its roof of coloured glass still made the light of the sun dance gracefully across the carved marble surfaces of the inner sanctum.
It had been stripped of its ornaments, anything of worth loaded onto carts to be wheeled back to the Zybar ships and taken across the ash sea and divided up among the salivating horde. Zybar was welcome to Azura's trinkets. Leoth cared nothing for them. They meant little. Meant even less as their city burned, their temples were reduced to shells, and their women enslaved. What use was gold now, Sylvan? Theodan wondered. His heir was dead and his heir unborn. Their Crown Princess fled or perhaps dead. Torrik had sent riders out the day of the palace raid to find the missing princess, returning empty-handed two days later. Torrik had their leader slaughtered before sending out another group who he'd ordered not to return without her.
They had yet to return.
The Calate Princess was important. She was to be remarried to his own son and together they were to be re-installed as the new rulers of Azura. Then, by her will or against it, she would bear the Zybar dog a line of heirs, ensuring their rule of Azura in perpetuity.
The Prince of Azura's decision to choose his own wife instead of that which his father and advisors had chosen for him had demanded a heavy price of his realm. His foolishness had cost him everything, had cost his people everything. He wondered if the Prince would consider the Calate Princess worth it now. Theodan almost hoped Torrik's riders returned with her so he could decide for himself.
Zybar soldiers had begun to dismantle the large gilded columns which surrounded the raised dais. Four Zybar pounded a makeshift battering ram against it relentlessly, their aim destruction only. Pointless, wasteful, destruction.
To gain distance from the noise, he walked the length of the temple nave and turned eastward, through another set of gilded columns. It brought him into an empty corridor which echoed with the sound of his leaden footsteps. The light lessened and the air grew cooler, the sound of the pounding ram growing increasingly dull behind him. The light increased as he passed through a section which was open to the air, and above he could hear the screams of women and men outside. Priests and Priestesses begging the Zybar for their lives.
Their begging would do nothing, he knew.
Torrik had ordered the slaughter of every messenger of Azura without exception. In the new Azura, the Goddess would no longer be the entity of Azurian devotion; Zybar would be installed in her place. Zybar: bitter, selfish, and driven by the envy of his more powerful brothers. Leoth may be the most reviled of Ethis' Gods, but he at least had started his war for something he believed in, madness or no.
Theodan kept walking. Through the temple's corridors, corridors which had been occupied a thousand years, but which now echoed with emptiness, a desolate space which would become a relic to its cause.
Soon, the corridor opened up, leading him out into a large inner courtyard which was decorated with bright colourful foliage - a well-tended and cared for topiary that would now wither and die - and several marble statuettes of the Goddess herself.
Each one stood as testament of her femininity and grace, her sacrifice for her people. Naked, cloth draped over one shoulder; bathing, her fingers perched delicately on one shoulder; mid-song; arms outstretched and eyes closed, blood pouring from her wrists. The largest was the centrepiece of a cool blue pool which shimmered from the light of the sun from above. Shaped from the purest white marble, Azura cradled a child at her breast, her face turned down and a soft smile of contentment playing across her lips.
He was almost upon it when it happened.
Sudden and loud; a rush of energy hit his chest and exploded into white behind his eyes. The force was so that he was certain he'd been struck down by the Goddess herself; revenge for what he had helped wrought upon her land. She had come to save Azura after all.
But Theodan was not dead. He breathed still.
With his eyes closed he whispered the words in Leoth, then, softening his body into acceptance as the Visier had instructed, he let the images take over him.
An open field, surrounded by trees, a woman alone dressed simply in white. The dress was odd, not a style he had seen before, in any realm. She turned and his heart faltered, his breathing with it. She was beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. She smiled at him. But no, not at him, through him, beyond him. Because he understood that this woman was gone, that this scene he could see now was a thousand years ago, maybe more. A man came into view, as though he had come from within Theodan himself, and walked towards the woman in white. She reached up to touch his face before he pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately. The sky above began to crackle and thunder and the couple were pulled apart by an invisible force, thrown across the empty meadow. The rain began to pour, angry and hard, the sky split apart. The woman screamed.
Theodan stumbled as the earth shook and the air began to change, the ground beneath his feet shifting and parting like the sky above. He was falling. A great distance. Down into darkness, nothing but deepest darkest black. The sound of a man screaming drew closer until it became a terrible eternal scream. He felt for something to grab hold of, to stop his fall, to help the man, but he could not feel his hands or sense his body, there was only darkness and the sound of unimaginable pain. Until it stopped. Until there was nothing.
Then he was still, everything was still, and he was falling no more. He blinked. Opened his eyes. Tried to remember who he was. Tried to make sense of what he could now see.
A girl, ten namedays perhaps, too far away for him to know if it was the woman in white as a girl, but he felt certain that it was not. She was running, no, being chased, by a boy through what appeared to be a castle garden. He was older but dressed just as finely. He watched from above as the girl ducked, hiding behind a low wall as the boy ran past her. But he was fooling her. A feint. He turned a corner and climbed atop the wall and began to tiptoe towards where the girl was crouched in hiding. As she made her move, the boy made his, leaping upon her with triumphant glee. He took the girl roughly by the hand and pushed her into a cove in the wall and pushed up the sleeve of her fine silk dress.
Then, with his dark eyes on hers, he lifted her wrist to his mouth and licked a slow path up the inside of her arm. The instant he saw the knife Theodan tried to move, wanted to leap down and go to the girl. But he could not. He knew why he could not. Because he was a visitor here. He could only watch as the boy sliced a shallow cut across the girl's wrist in a single practised move. As the blood rose to the surface, the boy bent his mouth and licked his tongue across the wound. The girl made not a single sound as the boy drank from her. She watched, unmoved, as though she too were a visitor. Dropping her wrist from his mouth the boy took a step closer, his dark eyes glimmering with what Theodan recognised as desire. Then he took the girls chin and thrust his tongue into her mouth.
Theodan staggered backwards as his mind re-centred within the quiet temple courtyard. Vision blurred and body weakened. He turned slowly and stumbled towards the fountain in desperate need of the cooling water.
He submerged his head into the fountain and held it under for as long as he was able. When he re-emerged his vision was still blurred and unfocused, his mind still scattered and apart. He could taste blood on his tongue.
The sound of movement behind him demanded his attention. Wiping his face, he turned his head to find Draden a few feet from him, the warrior's shoulders tense and concern clear in his dark eyes. He wondered how much he had seen.
'Anything of worth?' Draden asked.
'There are no visions of worth,' he replied. 'All are a curse.'
'If it were of no import then they would not have shown you it, Theodan.' They had had this conversation many times.
'And your time as The Gods trusted advisor was when exactly, warrior?' Theodan snapped. Draden said nothing but gave him a look that said he held his tongue out of duty only. 'It is done then?' He asked, desperate to change the subject, desperate to leave this place.
Draden hesitated, his eyes growing grave. 'We found something, in the crypt.' His tone was weighty.
'Some thing?' Theodan asked. 'And why does this 'some thing' concern me?' He turned back to the pool and brought some more water to his mouth and face, unable to clear his thoughts of the dark eyes of the blood-hungry human boy.
'It concerns you, commander, as only you can call off these dogs.'
Theodan sighed. 'I care not what they steal or burn, Draden,' he said, tired. 'Let them destroy this forsaken land they seek to rule so badly.'
'Theodan, this will not be borne,' Draden stated, his tone demanding Theodan's attention. 'I will not stand by and watch while they do this. There will be blood upon blood and this alliance will crumble if you do not prevent this.' The look in Draden's eyes pulled at Theodan's resolve. He took a deep breath as the fibrous nerves of his body began to return home, as his mind finally began to clear and settle. Theodan stood and brushed a hand over his face.
'Very well,' Theodan sighed. 'Show me this some thing. After which, we are done with this place.' Theodan followed him on heavy feet and weakened legs down to the temple's crypt, the taste of blood still lingering on his tongue.