Thralls of a Dread Lord (1.65T)
Welcome to my weekly serial. This is a rough draft that I am working on, for your reading pleasure.
It is a fairly grim tale, so be warned.
Here is the first post from this series.
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He strained against the ropes, but he knew very well that it was hemp woven with spidersilk thread and it would take him some time to break free.
“This is for your own good,” said Uyage, kneeling down in front of Retaak as he struggled. “You will try to run off with Albyursia and bring the wrath of Ushochhushi down upon us all. I know your heart Retaak. I know you… like… this elf. But the Kaasukak cares little for your feelings, Wildborn.”
“She does not deserve whatever fate Ushochhushi has in store for her,” growled Retaak. “I’ve seen the way he treats his slaves.”
Uyage shrugged. “It is not the way of thralls to change the world Retaak. You have struggled against the way of the Dread Lord your entire life and it has gained you nothing but pain and misery. Ashoktyaar is dead. Ushochhushi holds us in thrall to him. We must bring her to him.”
“We could choose death,” said Retaak, looking away.
“You are brave enough to face that,” said Kuzat. “But would you ask us to do so as well?”
“I would,” said Uyaashie, wincing as the mere thought of breaking her compulsion caused a drop of blood to drip from her nose. “I would try… at least… I owe Albyursia my life. But I cannot ask others to face death and dishonour for my feelings.”
“They are not wrong,” said Albyursia, her face somber. “All things come to an end Retaak, and I have lived a very long time. It would be a shame for you to die trying to save me when you cannot. If it were in me to kill none of you could hold me, but murdering just to live is unconscionable to me now. Be at peace, mighty one, do not despair of me until I am well and truly gone. Fortune has a way of spoiling the best laid plans.”
She leaned close to him; her eyes, brilliant and bold, fixed his. Her mouth moved, very slightly, but he heard no words.
“Come on,” warned Uyage.
At that, Albyursia leaned in and kissed him. It was deep and warm and wonderful. When their lips parted he was tingling as if intoxicated.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said.
“I do,” said Albyursia. “I have closed too many doors, Retaak. There are so few left for me to go through.”
Her words hung silent between them. He did not understand their meaning. She did not explain.
The four of them, Uyage, Kuzat, Uyaashie, and Albyursia left him there, tied to a tree in the remains of their camp. Retaak knew that by the time he pulled free of the ropes he would have no chance of catching them.
But he knew where they were going.
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