Page 5 of Surrender
He finished with sounds she’d heard often enough for the Tellex chip to process them. Lord Balam. Then he bowed again and backed away, leaving her standing in front of the throne.
Lord Balam made an imposing figure. Powerful muscles bulged in his bare chest and upper arms. He had a full head of hair that hung in a tangled mass down to his shoulders, jet black with streaks of gray at the temples. Three vicious parallel scars ran across one side of his chest, as though he’d been swiped by a huge paw. Around his neck he wore a string of claws hanging from a gold chain. Talia wondered which ones had come from the beast that had left its mark on him.
Like the others, he had eyes black as midnight set deep in his face below a prominent brow ridge. Wild bushy eyebrows made it stand out even more. The eyes locked on hers. Talia swallowed, trying not to let her nerves get the best of her. She felt like a doe caught in the sights of a ruthless hunter.
Balam stared at her silently. Then he stood and descended the three steps from the throne. He came so close she could smell the acrid odor of dried sweat on his body. Her nose wrinkled involuntarily.
He saw it. His cold smile told Talia she would pay for the insult.
He barked an order. The leader who’d delivered her stepped forward and untied the ropes around her waist.
Balam opened her cloak. His eyes widened when he saw the purple robe underneath, hitched up above her knees by the gold sash. He growled a single word and stretched out a hand. A man behind him slapped a stone dagger into his palm. Balam’s eyes never left hers as he grabbed her robe and slashed it from top to bottom. Then he turned his gaze on her body.
It was all Talia could do to stand motionless while the savage’s eyes raked over her. She hadn’t been naked in front of anyone since she was a toddler. Even then, her caregivers had taught her to immediately cover herself after bathing. Being on display for this crude being’s enjoyment was a harsh consequence for her momentary lapse in self-control. When she returned to Earth and made a full report, her superiors, instructors in the arts of diplomacy, would no doubt use the story of her degradation to illustrate the danger of allowing that control to slip for even a moment, no matter how fleeting.
But her humiliation had just begun. Balam glanced up at her face. He didn’t seem intimidated by the fact she stood a foot taller than he did. That may have been the reason he’d chosen to expose her body. It was hard to maintain her dignity when the cold air flowing through the palace made her nipples pucker. Right at his eye level.
He flicked the tight bud of one of them with the tip of his dagger. Talia flinched then, when he grinned, cursed herself for making another slip. He said something over his shoulder to the man who’d brought her to the palace, and they both laughed.
Balam met her eyes and spoke a few halting phrases in the Gadolinian language. “You prisoner. I sell for slave. Jamrons, Valans…like Gadolinian whore.”
While he spoke, his other hand gripped his crotch. Stroked the growing bulge in his loincloth. Then he grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around to show her the great hall, now filled with Neanderthal warriors. Standing behind her, he took hold of the tattered remnants of her gown and yanked them off along with her cloak, leaving her naked and shivering.
The roar of the crowd echoed off the rafters above.
Chapter Four
Kylar peeled off the remnants of his gray cloak, wincing as blood welled up from half a dozen slashes on his arms and back. The current wave of Tabun invaders had been even more fierce than the last. They came years ago, when he was only a child, but he remembered it well. He gave a nod to the courage of his ancestors. Gadolinian legends said the Vikings drove the Tabun from Earth through a star portal thousands of years ago.
Gingerly, he lowered himself into the steaming water and lay back with a sigh. The holy ones claimed the raids were retribution for the raping and pillaging his own forebears had done in the distant past, long before coming to Gadolinium. They wanted everyone to weep and wail and pray for deliverance. But he put no stock in their explanation. Nor did he plan to rely on their solution to save his people.
In his experience, Fate was a fickle bitch, just as likely to fuck you as bless you, regardless of how good or bad a life you or your ancestors had lived. When a babe was born, the three Norn, the witches of destiny, chose the moment of the infant’s death. It was predetermined, unchangeable – and it was up to every man, woman and child to make the best of the life they’d been granted, however long it lasted. If there was pleasure to be had along the way, he believed the biggest sin in the eyes of the gods, if they truly did exist, would be not seizing it.
He raised a fist to the heavens and shook it. “I’m still here! No thanks to you, you callous bitch.”
His voice rang out, echoed on the massive stones lining the hot spring. His ancestors had dragged them here from the valley below. Centuries of visitors to the spring, countless hands and feet and bare asses had worn the stones beneath him smooth as the skin of a babe.
He’d made his way alone to the healing waters, needing time to clear his head and think without the constant presence of his warriors – and the townspeople – intruding. A few moments of peace were all he needed. Then he’d head back to the fortress and meet with the squadron leaders, find out how many of his brave comrades had fallen. How many women had been left widows. How many children fatherless.
He didn’t know how his own father had borne the burden all these years. Beloved by his people, King Sigrun gave the same deliberate attention to a petty dispute between two squabbling farmers over ownership of a wayward ram as he did to negotiating a treaty with the residents of another world. He never tired of his role as firm leader and loving father to the Gadolinians.
But, over the past few years, his health had declined. More often than not, it was Kylar who sat in on the endless meetings, shouldered the mind-numbing daily responsibilities. Should anyone spout the opinion that the role of king was a glamorous one, Kylar would invite him to take over just once from dawn to dusk.
Kylar groaned and eased lower into the water. He needed to head back down the mountain and rescue the willful wench who’d been roaming the streets alone, defying his order for everyone to evacuate the city. When he finally got hold of her, he’d strip her cloak off, yank her over his lap, and paddle her bare ass till she begged for forgiveness.
His cock grew hard at the thought of seeing the luscious body he’d felt under that shapeless cloak. The mothers of Trondheim had been parading their daughters in front of him since he sprouted hair on his balls. How had this beauty escaped his notice?
With a sigh, he turned his mind away from her shapely ass and what else he’d like to do to it. Thank the gods for Elwen the dwarf. He’d have to serve his king as he’d done once before, long ago. Small and stout, in a hooded cloak pulled low over his brow, he could wander among the Tabun unnoticed, gather information, and report her whereabouts.
Kylar was fairly certain they’d have taken her to the caverns under the palace where they’d hold her until she could be auctioned off. But Balam was a horny devil, rumored to take the comeliest female prisoners to his bed and have his fill of them before converting them to cash.
He heard a noise behind him and jumped up stark naked, sword in hand, then sagged back. His right-hand man, Haldor, who’d saved his life in battle not once but twice, stood on the path. A giant of a man, he bent his head and bowed, but not before Kylar caught the stricken look in his eyes.
“Pardon me, my lord. I know you gave strict orders that you were not to be disturbed. But I thought you’d want to hear the news as soon as possible. While you’re alone.”
He caught the unspoken message. Whatever Haldor had to say, he knew Kylar wouldn’t want anyone else to witness his reaction when he heard it. It wouldn’t do for the future king to show weakness in front of his subjects.
The news must be bad. Very bad. He took a deep breath then gave a single nod. “Speak.”