122 comments/ 360749 views/ 590 favorites The Last Tritan By: The Last Tritan "How long?" I asked. "About a week," he replied. Assuming the slavers would be busy rounding up the Elorans still within the city, we would have some time before they came searching for this ragged little family, and others like them. "So how about you? What's your name? How long have you been in these woods?" He asked, taking another mouthful from his pile of food. "I think that's enough for today," I said standing abruptly. After so much time alone, I was extremely uncomfortable around others, and had no desire to talk about my most horrific memories. I practically launched myself into the trees, in my haste to get away from the offer of friendship in Jake's eyes. Friends die, and I couldn't afford the risk of caring for these people, only to lose them to slavers or starvation. Almost against my will, I found myself returning on a daily basis, hungry for the knowledge and companionship they offered. I brought them food every day, greatly depleting my stores, until they figured out how to trap their own animals. About a week after meeting them, I arrived in their camp just as Jake was gutting and cleaning a rabbit. My stomach lurched at the bloody sight, and I felt a little piece of my heart crumble in sadness at the waste of life. Though I couldn't expect Jake to let his family starve to death, I was still repulsed by his actions. "Join us for dinner," he said gleefully, holding up the bloody, skinless carcass of the rabbit. I felt the blood drain from my face, and I took an involuntary step back. "No thank you," I said in barely more than a whisper. He frowned upon seeing my reaction, and shook his head. "You Tritans really are soft hearted, aren't you?" He asked, with a genuine smile. "I tried to kill a rabbit once. Couldn't do it," I said laughing nervously. "Well I've done it this time, and you're more than welcome to join us. Please, it's the least we can do in return for all your help," he said, walking toward their makeshift shelter, careful to cover his tracks. I shrugged. "How could I justify eating it, if I am incapable of killing it? It hardly seems fair to benefit from its death, if I don't have the courage to end its life," I said, trying for the first time to voice my discomfort with eating flesh. "Eloquently put!" He exclaimed, as we entered the campsite. Rhonda, as I had learned her name to be, glared daggers at me. I assumed it was for spending alone time with her husband in the woods. I snorted and rolled my eyes - leave it to a woman to try to start a petty rivalry, while on the run from slavers! "So, are you a priestess?" He asked. Either he hadn't noticed the tension between his wife and I, or he was valiantly trying to ignore it. "No." I replied, unable to make eye contact, though I wasn't strictly lying. I was never accepted into the temple, and had no formal training. "No, I don't suppose there are any of them left. None that aren't chained to an Elite, that is." My head bowed in sadness. He was probably right - excluding me, of course. "Anyway, we can't stay in these woods forever. We heard there's safe passage to cross the ocean, as long as we can make it to the coast. You should join us." I smiled, not committing to anything. "Are you ever going to tell me your name, or do I have to keep talking in your general direction?" Amusement lit his face, and I took a moment to wonder at my hesitation in revealing my name. It wasn't like his knowing could harm me in any way I could think of - so what was it then? Assuming it must have been my reluctance to let people get close to me, I staunchly pushed aside my discomfort and took a deep breath. "Mila." My voice was hardly more than a whisper, and Jake's head snapped around in surprise to look at me. "You've been helping us for weeks. I wasn't expecting you to ever tell me. Mila is a beautiful name. Thank you." He rested his hand on my shoulder. I nodded and touched his hand, realizing it was the first time in almost two and a half years, that I had had skin to skin contact, however fleeting. Rhonda came out of the woods, an angry look already on her face. "Jake, come here! I need you," she called in her shrill voice, glaring at my hand touching his. Jake sighed, and obediently walked toward his irate wife. They conversed in angry tones, sending more than one weighted look in my direction. With my patients completely worn through, I retreated to the trees. I headed back to my tree apartment, and settled in for the night. There was no room in my life for a partner, especially not the kind who came with two kids and a jealous wife. I drifted off wondering what Jake had done to inspire such hostility in his wife. The morning chill woke me, and I treated myself to a leisurely breakfast of roasted acorn bread with dried berries and warm water. It may not sound like much, living in the heated splendor of civilization, but I was damn proud of my survival skills. In the entire time I had been living here, I hadn't seen a single other person manage to do the same. I took my time in heading back to Jake's camp, enjoying the refreshing winter air. Hearing voices, I frowned. I was still a five minute walk away from their camp, which meant they weren't making any effort to remain hidden. This I couldn't understand - silence had been lesson two. Crouching in the trees, I advanced as quietly as possible. The realization that I didn't recognize the voices coming from their camp hit me quite suddenly. My blood went cold. Slavers. Hoping there might still be some chance to save them, I slunk closer. I hadn't been this close to slavers since I'd abandoned my fellow Tritans back in the 'rebel camp.' I could taste the fear in my mouth, but I pressed close enough to hear the conversation taking place beneath me. "I had to sedate the woman. Screeching about Tritans running through the trees like squirrels. I haven't seen a Tritan in a year, the idiot." His voice was gruff, and suited his massive frame perfectly. The second man laughed, and picked at one of my 'care packages', filled with walnuts and homemade bread. He took a bite. "Bleh! This shit is awful," he said spitting the offensive bread in the direction of his four bound prisoners. "You'll be happy with your new masters - they won't feed you anything half as bad as that." He laughed, and kicked at the fire smoldering in the center of the camp. I grimaced. The smoke must have brought these two down on this little family almost as quickly as it had been lit. My third rule had been 'no unprotected fires.' They must have lit a fire to cook the rabbit, and not bothered with all the tricks I'd taught them. The sound of crying drew my attention out of my depressing thoughts. "Please, you can't do this to my children. Have a heart," said Jake's voice, cracking brokenly. I shifted slightly so I could see him. He faced away from me, but I could clearly see he had been badly beaten. The left side of his face was swollen, and there was an ominous dark stain on the back of his neck that looked too much like blood for my comfort. As the big slaver moved closer to his prisoners, I took the opportunity to move in the trees, preparing myself for an attack. I figured if I could drop down on top of the smaller one, I would be able to knock him out, and would just do my best to subdue the giant. Either way, I was tired of doing nothing. I tightened my muscles, ready to pounce. Jake's next words stopped me faster than anything else could have. "There really is a Tritan in these woods, I swear it! Free my wife and children and I'll help you find her." The big man guffawed, and hoisted Jake up by his coat. "Take me to this mystery Tritan first, and then we'll talk." "Her name is Mila, and she made that bread! She's been living here since Tritan fell! Please, she's been helping us, and she visits every day. She must live close to here. You have to believe me!" Jake's captors were not sympathetic to his cries, to put it gently. There was a loud crack, and Jake slumped unconscious against his wife. His children sobbed pitifully until they too were sedated. "If there really were a Tritan hiding in these woods, she'd be worth a fortune. Probably the last free Tritan in the world," said the smaller slaver. "It would be nice to knock old Alister off his pedestal." he said with a dreamy quality to his voice. Completely uninterested in whoever this Alister was, I let my thoughts drift back to the betrayal I had just witnessed. I was angry Jake could turn on me after all the help I had given him - and so easily! I was hurting more than I was willing to admit. I waited until the slavers began to pack up for them to make enough noise to cover my exit. As I ran through the trees, more reckless than I should have been considering my proximity to the slavers, I let my anger stew in my stomach. The tear streaked faces of his children flashed before my eyes, and I skidded to a halt. Jake was a man who would do anything to protect his family - even the obnoxious Rhonda. A choked sob escaped my throat, surprising me. Tears? For someone who had just betrayed me? But I knew in my heart I would have done the same thing if it meant I could have saved my parents. Had I made a mistake in not staying to help the Trapper family? Of course I had. If I couldn't fight to save my fellow humans, then why was I struggling so hard to survive? It all seemed like a huge waste of effort if I couldn't do any good with my life. Turning on my heel, I backtracked as quickly as possible, though my attempts to remain quiet slowed my progress. By the time I returned to the remains of the camp, they were gone. It wasn't hard to track them through the snow, as slavers never bother to hide their passing. I followed as quickly as possible, until I could hear the sounds of travelers in the forest. My only chance at a rescue would come at night, when everyone was sleeping. Hanging back, I waited for my chance. I've learned most of what I know about survival by watching the animals, but I may have left out how much trial and effort it took to find out that humans cannot eat everything birds can. On one such occasion I found some 'red berries' hanging from a tree. The birds were in a feeding frenzy, so I decided to try a few. They were quite bitter, but had a pleasant aftertaste, so I grabbed a few handfuls and enjoyed eating them. I spent the following night curled in the fetal position, vomiting until I was sure I had cracked a rib. I was so consumed with my misery I couldn't stand up. This disgusting aside is important, because as I trailed behind the captured Trapper family, I noticed a tree with the horrid little red berries on it. They were dry, and had been thoroughly picked over by the birds, but a plan started to formulate in my mind. Dropping from my lofty perch I proceeded to strip the remaining berries from the branches. When night finally fell, I was waiting on the outskirts of the slaver's camp, as far away from the Trappers as I could manage - if one of the children saw me and called out, the game would be up. When the larger of the two slavers went to sleep, I threw a rock into the forest as hard as I could. It bounced off a tree and the slaver's head snapped up. He stared in the direction of the sound for so long I feared he wouldn't get up to check. "Probably just an animal," he said absently, as he walked toward the opposite side of the clearing. Now or never, I thought as I hurried to the bitter camp coffee he had simmering over the fire. I dumped the powdered red berries into the pot, stirred, and retreated to the darkness. I desperately hoped the coffee's own flavor would drown out the bite of the red berries. If not, I would be forced to try and subdue two men who were each more than twice my size - not an appealing prospect. There was nothing left to be done but retreat to the trees and wait. When the smaller slaver woke his partner for the change of watch, I watched them finish a mug of coffee before I drifted off to sleep. Dawn was breaking when I heard the first sounds of retching - music to my ears. I hadn't been sure if the dosage had been high enough, as these were two of the largest men I had ever seen in my life. When I heard cursing from both men, it was clear the red berries were a force to be reckoned with. I waited until I was sure the vomiting had set in, and made my move. Creeping slowly across their campsite, I looted the small man's prone body for the keys to the Trapper's restraints. He didn't react when my hand brushed his skin, so I slipped the keys out of his pocket, moving as slowly as possible. The Trappers were all staring wide-eyed at me, and both parents had their hands pressed to the children's mouths. I unlocked the two adults, handing the keys to Rhonda and motioned for Jake to follow me. "Follow my lead," I whispered, and handed him a set of cuffs. Cautious of startling the smaller slaver out of his nausea induced stupor, I gently took each of his wrists in my hand and chained them together. Jake did the same with the other, who had woken up long enough to swear at Jake and continue vomiting. "Mila, I-" "Stop," I said, anger bubbling to the surface. "I want nothing more to do with you, traitor. Take your family and run to the coast. Don't stop until you get there. I think it's about a day's hike from here. These two will be sick for the next day or two, so you'll have a head start. Don't waste it." Turning to leave, I glanced at Jake and his family over my shoulder. "Take care of each other." "Thank you, Mila," said Rhonda, her voice stiff. I didn't bother looking back. As aloof as I tried to seem, I knew the Trapper family would stay with me for a long time. I'd fought hard to save them, and I took several very important things away from my first slaver experience. Tritans had become a rare commodity, and slavers would do just about anything to get their hands on me. I was tired of hiding. If I could make life just a little harder for the Caledonians, then maybe I could make amends for the Tritans I'd abandoned when we first took refuge in the forest. But I had a problem; if I looked like a Tritan, I would surely become a target. If, on the other hand, I looked like an Eloran, then I would be nothing more than a nuisance. I'd already decided I didn't want to be taken alive. But how could I change the way I looked? Short of trying to focus my untried priestess skills, and manipulate the color of my hair, as I knew some of the more powerful priestesses could do, I was at a loss. Until I remembered the stains walnut husks left on my skin. The dark brown stains. It took longer than I thought it would, but I eventually developed a walnut soak for my hair that turned it a rich, dark brown. The dye only lasted about three washes, but if I kept coloring my hair every time I washed it, no one would be the wiser. The only downside to constantly dying my hair was the mess I was making of my skin. My hands were perpetually stained with brown blotches, and I'm sure there were stains on my face from running dye. It wasn't permanent, and I didn't exactly have anyone to look beautiful for, so I didn't bother trying to solve the problem. Now more than ever I looked like a crazy nature spirit. I began to actively seek the slavers, and freed many of their captive Elorans. Though I'm not sure how many actually found freedom, I was able to give them a second chance - an opportunity I was never given. Occasionally I would ask how the war was going, but I never told anyone about myself, though they asked often enough. Jake had been my friend, and he would have slapped the chains on me himself if given the chance. It was better to take the temptation out of their way. The news of Elora was never encouraging. They were losing the war, and the Caledonians managed to strike down any rebellion attempts before they had truly begun. Most people tried to take their families and run, which in turn brought more slavers to the forest, and made my life even harder to live. Aside from the new level of risk, my life settled into a predictable pattern; wake up, scavenge for food, find slavers, poison them with red berries, free their slaves. At some point I realized I needed to start honing my priestess skills, even though I knew that could lead to my downfall. Searching my brain for inspiration, I recalled the beautiful male mountain lion I had seen earlier in the year. Thankfully, he had just made a kill and wasn't interested in me, but I did manage to get a good look at the frightening length of his teeth. I had my muse. I survived for another few years in the forest, freeing slaves, and thwarting their hunters, though eventually the seasons began to blend together and I lost track of time all together. Over the years I had to adapt my methods as the slavers became wise to my tricks, and there were a few times I had to walk away from a potential rescue. Eventually they began traveling in groups - I unfortunately didn't notice until it was too late. The sound of screaming woke me early one morning, and before I had taken the time to eat breakfast, I was racing through the trees, determined to help. I had taken to carrying an emergency pouch of red berries with me anywhere I went, so I was confident I would be able to help, and it wasn't long before I found them eating at a camp fire, taunting two women they had tied to a tree. Immediately angered at their crude behavior, I employed my usual tricks to distract the men so I could dose their coffee. I had never run across slavers who had sexually tormented their prisoners, and I was desperately hoping now wouldn't be the first time - I wasn't sure if I could sit back and wait if that were the case. To my relief, they fell for the 'conspicuous sound in the woods' as easily as the others had, and after distracting the remaining guard, I slunk into their camp to work my dark magic on the coffee. Imagine my surprise, when both slavers started vomiting a mere twenty minutes after drinking the coffee. Assuming I must have had a particularly powerful dose of red berries, I slipped into camp, and lifted the keys. Both women eyed me with a mixture of what appeared to be shock, and disgust - I guessed my appearance was about as far away from comforting as possible. But to be fair, I was eyeing them with an equal amount of shock - these were the most statuesque women I'd ever seen. Both had very dark hair and appeared to be incredibly fit. I'd never seen an Eloran like them. "I'm here to help," I whispered, showing them the keys in my hand. The one closer to me nodded and held out her wrists, which I quickly unlocked, and moved to the other. "Thank you," they said together, and I flashed a toothy smile. They blanched when faced with the full wattage of my fierce grin - did I forget to mention I'd augmented my canine teeth to look like those of a mountain lion? Mind you, there wasn't enough room in my mouth for the full six inch length of a mountain lion's impressive weaponry, but I did alright with all four of my canines significantly longer than normal. "Are you the one who's been freeing slaves?" Said the closer woman, drawing me out of my musings as she reached out to touch my arm. I stepped out of her grasp, nodding warily. "Good," she said and smiled with confidence so out of place my gut clenched in dread. A fist slammed into my ribs, completely knocking the wind out of me and drawing a startled yelp from my lips. The sound of cracking ribs was secondary to the deep, masculine voice that suddenly filled my ears. "Welcome to the party, we've been waiting a long time for you." "God, she's a mess. This disgusting little thing has been causing all the trouble?" Said a female voice, as my baffled gaze darted to the women I had just 'freed'. They were standing with feet shoulder width apart, and checking cruel looking weapons. The Last Tritan I'd ignored all the signs that this had been a trap; the rapid onset of the slavers' vomiting, when I'd never seen the red berries work so fast; sleeping in the early morning, when it was smarter for them to move the 'slaves' as quickly as possible; the obviously Caledonian appearance of the women, for that's clearly what they were. They had used my desire to help the refugees against me. And I'd fallen for it. Scrambling to my feet and trying to ignore the crippling pain in my ribs, I made a mad dash for the tree line. Two huge hairy arms wrapped around me before I'd made it ten feet, but I wasn't giving up that easily. I sunk my modified teeth into the wiry forearm wrapped around my chest, and didn't stop until I tasted blood. He cursed in what I'd imagine was a great deal of pain, before loosening his grip enough for me to pull free. I hadn't taken more than twenty steps before I heard the whistle and crack of a whip. Blinding pain snapped across my back from shoulder to hip. I don't remember hitting the ground, but I do recall the agony of my arm being wrenched behind my back. "Don't you fucking move!" A male voice shouted in my ear, as if I could go anywhere with his weight pinning me to the forest floor. "Little bitch fucking bit me!" Said the other man from somewhere off to my left. "Look at these teeth marks!" A moment later there was a hand in my filthy hair, yanking my head up. My stunned gaze met that of the irate man I must have bitten. Without warning his fingers were pushing past my lips, running over my teeth. I snapped my teeth closed on his thumb. "Nice try," he said, as he jammed half his fist in my mouth, putting so much pressure on my jaw it was impossible to retaliate. "Look at these teeth!" "You'd better get a shot when we get back. No telling what she's got," said the contemptuous voice of one of the women, as the fist was removed from my mouth. "Did you guys drink the coffee? She poisoned it," said the other woman, giving me a kick. At this point, the man sitting on my back had backed off a bit, though he still had my arm pinned painfully to my back. Breathing through the pain was nearly impossible, and I could feel the trickle of blood running down my sides from the whiplash on my back. "Here little kitty," she purred, bringing the pot of coffee to my lips. "Eww, Tasha. She's going to be puking for hours, and if we believe the stories, it'll come from both ends. I'm not cleaning that up," the other woman said as she wound her whip. How I could feel grateful to the beast who had just laid open my back, I couldn't understand. "Pack up. There's an auction tonight," said the man restraining me after he'd bound my wrists and ankles and dragged me to my feet. My legs wouldn't support my weight, which didn't seem to be a problem as he slung me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The man I had bitten appeared in my line of sight, and stuffed a filthy rag in my mouth. "I'll let your new owner decide what to do with those teeth," he said, smiling with a cruel glint in his eye. As brave as I was trying to be, I couldn't help the frightened little whimper - and the grunts of pain - as we started the hike through the woods. It took the better part of the day to reach a road. I'm sure I lost consciousness several times, though I couldn't keep count - the pain in my ribs and back was nearly all consuming. Thoughts of my uncertain future kept creeping into my head, the terror of the unknown threatening to drown me. I was jostled out of my pain laced stupor when my captors stopped for a break. They produced wine, cheese, meats, and bread, and left me bound and gagged at the edge of the clearing like a forgotten piece of luggage. It had been more than twelve hours since my last meal, and I was keenly feeling the lack of nourishment. "Are you hungry?" Asked the man with my teeth marks tattooed on his arm. Sensing a trap, I stared back with no expression - there was no amount of deal making I was willing to do for table scraps. At least not yet. "It's your turn to carry her," said the man who had, until now, been my human mule. "Fuck that. She bit me. Make her walk," said my tormentor, turning back to his meal. Thinking I would relish the chance to walk some of the stiffness out of my injuries, I waited with baited breath as my ankle cuffs were unlocked. I couldn't have been more wrong. With every step my back twisted and jolted, irritating the open wound. My ribs spat fire into my lungs, causing pitiful little gasps of pain to escape my lips. It wasn't long before they were pushing me roughly ahead of them, and I was tripping over myself to keep up with their long legged stride. "Thank fuck. I see the slavers," said Mule, as we reached the road. The way he'd said it bothered me - why would he refer to his peers as 'slavers', and not 'the group', or 'the others'.? It wasn't long before I had my answer. "Matthew! We were almost done waiting. I'm glad you've made it, and with the villain in tow! Wonderful, wonderful," said a man wearing an expensive looking overcoat, as he clasped hands with each of my captors. "Our payment?" Asked Matthew, his grip tightening painfully over the whiplash on my shoulder. "Ah, yes. Here we are. As agreed upon," he said handing over a rather large leather bag. Bounty hunters. I'd been duped by hired thugs. I hung my head in shame. "Now, let's have a look at our little woods menace, shall we?" Expensive man said, as Matthew pushed me away. "Oh my! She certainly won't sell for very much, will she? You are a girl, yes?" He asked removing my gag and turning my head this way, and that. My knotted brown hair decorated with braids and feathers, walnut stained face, and tattered homespun clothing must have made quite an impression. I grinned, showing my impressive teeth. The slaver's head snapped back in surprise, and he hastily removed his hand from my face. "Careful, them teeth ain't just for show," said Bitten Man, holding up his arm. I licked my lips. "Feisty - gotcha," said the slaver. "We'll keep her locked down. Anything else?" "Might need medical attention - but the bounty said dead or alive, so we figured a few scratches and bruises wouldn't make a difference," Mathew said, as he separated the cash between his companions. I rolled my eyes at his flippant use of the term 'scratches and bruises.' If he'd meant to say broken bones and lacerations, I might have been on board. "No, no, that won't matter. Auction is 'Take it or Leave it' style. I'd imagine she'll be in the 'leave it' category. This one's headed for the salt mines," he mused. I'd heard rumors of the salt mines, and it was enough to make me sick to my stomach. "No matter. It's worth it to have her stopped. You've done a marvelous job gentlemen - and ladies. I'll be sure to contact you directly if I'm ever in need of your services." With that, the bounty hunters were out of my life, and I didn't spare them a second glance as they walked away. I had a new threat to contend with. "What shall we call you then, dear?" Expensive Man asked, as he pushed me toward a strange looking cage containing several other captives. His hand brushed the lash on my back and I hissed in pain, but otherwise said nothing. "No matter," he said after waiting for my response. "We'll name you Hob." I continued walking as if he weren't speaking, and he continued speaking as if I were listening. "You look like a hobgoblin, and smell like a dumpster, so I think it's a rather fitting moniker, don't you?" I stopped short when I got my first good look at what the other slaves were sitting in. I knew exactly what it was, but the last time I'd seen it, it had been nothing more than a drawing on my father's desk. The magnetic car. Of Tritan design. Intended as a solution to the energy crisis, the magnetic car used the earth's own magnetic field for propulsion - a more noble project hadn't been taken on in years. And now it was being used to transport slaves to auction. I dug my nails into my palms as fury burned through me. "Don't like that name?" He asked, breaking into my thoughts. My brain skipped a beat as I tried to focus on the present. I glanced at him, but otherwise remained silent. "It suits you." With that, he gave me a vicious shove, and locked the door of the magnetic car behind me. The terrified faces of my cell mates stared at me in what I can only imagine was revulsion. "You're the one who was freeing Elorans?" Whispered a badly beaten girl no older than myself. Aside from the bruises on her face, she was quite beautiful with luscious, highlighted brown hair, and sparkling green eyes. I nodded once. After all my time in the forest, I found speaking - unless it was absolutely necessary - to be a chore. My silence would probably be to my advantage, lest anyone recognized my Tritan accent. "You got the rest of my family to safety. They sent me word from across the sea before I tried to flee. Thank you, a thousand times, thank you!" She said, eyes shimmering with tears. "My name's Kyra. What's yours?" I stared at her, plainly baffled by her offer of friendship. Weren't we on route to a 'take it or leave it' auction? I certainly didn't feel like making friends. Thankfully the slaver chose that moment to start the car, and the unique experience of hovering above the ground distracted Miss Kyra from her pursuit of friendship. I'd imagine the trip was uneventful for the other girls, who clutched at each other for support, while I stared at the passing buildings in awe. I'd lost track of how many years I'd spent in the woods, and seeing a flourishing civilization for the first time since my exile was completely overwhelming. The sheer volume of people going about their business made my heart beat erratically, and sweat bead on my brow. The smells threatened to suffocate me and I squeezed my eyes shut trying to mentally place myself in the sanctity of my forest. I took a deep breath, blocking out the sounds of a thriving city, and tried to view my surroundings with a rational mind - it was my only hope for escape. The buildings didn't seem to have any of the war scars I'd been expecting and appeared mostly intact. No one looked twice at a slave transport. It took us the better part of the afternoon to reach our destination, and I'd spent most of that time pressed against the bars farthest from my fellow captives. As we got closer to our destination, the sobs from the others got more and more heart wrenching. I could understand their fear - better yet, I shared it - no one valued freedom more than I did. But I let their terror ground me, giving me the benefit of a calm perspective, and I spent the hours searching for a chance to make a break for it. During this passive observation of my surroundings, I realized two things. One, Jake Trapper had told me Elora was all but defeated, and it appeared he'd been wrong. There was a strong military presence, which got nothing but stronger the farther north we traveled. Two, we were headed toward some kind of war zone, which could only mean one thing. Elites. My situation had just become markedly worse. Not surprisingly, moments after that thought crossed my mind the magnetic car came to a graceful, and silent halt. "Jasper! Good to see you, mate. Slaves for the front line?" Asked a soldier, as he came forward to meet the transport cart. "Indeed, Kyle, and a sorry lot they are, I might add. Except for this one," he replied, stroking Kyra's hair through the bars. "A little rough around the edges, but I'd imagine she's the only one of worth." He sighed, and Kyle laughed. I glared at him through the bars, anger making me reckless. "Good lord, where did you find that one?" Kyle asked in surprise, catching my gaze. The revulsion billowed off him in waves. I smiled, injecting the gesture with every ounce of hate I could muster. I had been the one to make myself look this way - it didn't make any sense to acknowledge any hurt feelings when it was working so well. "Ah, yes. This is Hob. She's the woods menace who's been poisoning my men, and freeing slaves. Say hello, Hob," he said, jabbing me painfully in the ribs. I bared my teeth at him, and Kyle clapped, amused. "She's a right wild little thing, isn't she? Oy! Caleb! Come see this!" He shouted, waving over another soldier. Soon enough there was a crowd of men gathering around our cage, pointing and laughing. I did my best to remain impassive, but with Jasper stabbing his stick at me, it was all I could do not to shriek in rage. "Alright, alright, that's enough," he said, laughing along with the soldiers. "If you want to see her, come to the auction tonight. Nine o'clock sharp!" I curled in on myself as we started moving again, and tried to hold back the terrified sobs threatening to overwhelm me. I flinched as a hand settled gently on my shoulder. "I'm sorry," said Kyra's soft voice. She settled beside me and draped her arm around my shoulders. I found the action strangely comforting, and let her console me for a few minutes as I bolstered my courage. Pulling away, I pressed my hand to my heart in thanks and she nodded, picking up on my way of silent communication. I'd pulled myself together by the time we came to a stop behind a battered building. Here were the war scars I'd been looking for. Most of the windows were either broken or boarded up, and the walls were blackened by fire. Regardless, the sounds of merriment spilled from inside, hinting at a gathering of a great many people. The other girls were hauled out of the transport cage, leaving me alone behind the bars. I'd been planning to make a break for it the moment I was free of the cage, and being obviously singled out make me rethink my actions. I had apparently been left to my own devices - this would surely be my best chance to attempt an escape. I tried everything I could think of - pulled on the floorboards of the cage, and tried to squeeze between the tight spaces of the bars. No luck - though truth be told, my attempts were half hearted at best. It wasn't logical for Jasper to leave me here when an escape could be so easy. I would have to fight my way past Jasper when he returned to open the door. It was the only way out of this cage. The sounds coming from the building swelled, and I waited, muscles tense for his return. When he appeared, his eyes were bright with excitement - until he looked at me. Taking in my defensive posture he slowed his approach, and collected a set of handcuffs. With a deliberately slow twist of his wrist, he unlocked the cage and stepped inside. Panic rushed through my system, and I lashed out at him, dragging my nails down the side of his face. I hadn't had the leverage to draw blood, but there were now angry red slashes running the length of his face. He laughed, though he didn't sound very happy. "I thought so, Hob," he mused, and seized my arm in an iron grip, slapping the heavy duty cuffs on my wrists before I could defend myself. Pulling me close, he produced a thick matching collar, and with a minimal amount of fighting on my side, snapped it closed. I had yet to utter a word, but the temptation to curse and scream until I was blue in the face nearly overwhelmed me. The final insult occurred as he snapped the end of his walking stick to the loop at the front of my collar, and dragged me from the cage. The heavy chains connecting my wrists threw me off balance, and I stumbled, nearly garroting myself on the collar. "Easy, Hob," he said in a tone reserved for soothing unruly children, or wild animals. I exploded in anger, a wordless scream escaping my lips as I lunged at him, intent on ending his life. He stepped out of range, keeping me at the end of the stick as I clawed at the collar, drawing blood. It was disturbingly easy for him to lead me through the door the other captives had gone through, using the stick as leverage. And so, my introduction to the auction house was at the end of a pole I'd only seen a dog catcher use, my cheeks flushed in passion. Jasper followed me onto the small stage as I stared stupidly back at the hundreds of soldiers crammed into the small room. The other women were arranged on the stage to my left, unrestrained. All but Kyra - who was directly beside me - were shaking with fear, tears streaking down their faces. Her beautiful pale face was covered in healing bruises, yet she retained an air of haughty purity. She was creating quite a stir, and I imagined many a man present would love to wipe that look off her face. I was suddenly desperate to warn her of her mistake, but was keenly aware doing so would be utterly useless - the damage was done. Picking out entire conversations in the roar of the crowd was next to impossible, but comments about beautiful green eyes were clear enough. A commotion from the crowd drew my attention away from my fellow captives. There were several serving girls bringing drinks and food around, all of whom also appeared to be on the menu. The men were continually dragging the harassed girls into their laps, or groping them inappropriately, and it seemed two men had chosen a girl to fight over. I instinctively reached for Kyra, wanting the comfort of her touch. Jasper jerked the stick, and I was forced to my knees with an anguished cry. "Shall we start the bidding?" Cried Jasper after passing my lead to one of his men. "This first Eloran treasure has the perfect temperament for a novice trainer..." said Jasper as he pulled the terrified girl to the forefront. His voice faded to the background as I tried to quell the terror screaming inside my head. He proceeded down the line until the woman standing next to Kyra sold for eight thousand dollars. When the stage was cleared of everyone but Kyra and I, Jasper clapped his hands together and shouted over the din. "Gentlemen, this is our main even of the evening!" The crowd quieted, and Jasper hauled me to my feet. "May I introduce Hob. This horrible little creature has been living in the forest for some time, poisoning my men and freeing slaves. But this delicate Eloran rose," he said stroking Kyra's face tenderly. "Has befriended her. And yes there is a female under all this filth," he said and they erupted into laughter. I never thought I'd be bothered by the opinion of other people, but when tears pooled in my eyes at the merciless taunting, I knew I'd been wrong. Kyra's fingers slipped into my clenched fist, and she squeezed, sending me the support she could. "This beautiful girl stubbornly refuses to see Hob's hideous exterior, and seeks to comfort the little beast!" He exclaimed, lifting our joined hands triumphantly. The applause was deafening - Jasper was quite the salesman. "Kyra's charms are matched only by her stubborn will, gentlemen, so she is suitable only for those of you with experience. Wouldn't want to damage such a treasure, would we? Shall we start the bidding at ten thousand?" Kyra's eyes widened in surprise. The bidding was fierce, until a giant of a man stood and shouted, "Twenty-five thousand!" When the other bidders were silent for the count of ten, and her proud face was suddenly streaked with silent tears, Jasper announced her sale. I moved to give her the small comfort she'd given me moments before, but was jerked back by the man holding my lead. She noticed my attempt, however, and managed a fragile looking smile, as she was lead off the stage. It took a few minutes, but the crowd eventually settled enough for Jasper to make his next pitch. Mine. "For those of you who enjoy a challenge, this is your girl!" He said, palming the back of my neck and looking into my face. "She certainly doesn't seem like much, and honestly I should be paying you to take her off my hands, but Hob comes with a nasty little bag of tricks!" He gave the collar a vicious tug, making me gasp in surprise and bare my teeth. The crowd cheered. The Last Tritan "You couldn't pay me to stick my dick in that mouth, Jasper!" Called a man from the front. "Seems too risky, for such important equipment." "She'd be doing us all a favor, stopping you from reproducing!" Shouted the man to his left, and the crowd erupted into laughter again. "Shall we start the bidding at one hundred dollars?" Asked Jasper, and the crowd was suddenly a mix of laughter and astonishment. I hadn't been a part of society for some time, but even I knew that was an outrageously low price for a slave. I lost the battle with my pride as my head bowed under the pressure of the cruelty these people were heaping on me. "I'll give you fifty," came a lazy drawl from the center of the crowd. The room was went silent, except for the sound of my grinding teeth. Fifty measly dollars? I thought, tears burning my eyes until I rapidly blinked them away. Unable to resist the temptation, I looked up to inspect the face of the man who had made the offer, and froze. My priestess gifts, which until now had been easily subdued, flared to life. I sensed the energy of a tightly coiled predator, and knew without a doubt I was staring into the dark eyes of a Caledonian Elite. Rational thought fled, and I pulled back on the stick so sharply Jasper lost his balance. The crowd exploded into laughter as two burly men wrestled me into a kneeling position, and chained me to the floor. "Sold!" Jasper cried, sending me a hate filled glare. "Aww Captain, what the hell?" Asked a man to left of the Elite, as the crowd began to disperse. "We lost ground today, Marco. Tell me why I should reward you lot of ingrates with a good quality slave?" He replied acidly. "But that green-eyed one was so pretty, and you didn't even make an offer." The captain rose from his seat, and approached the stage. I held eye contact, trying to determine if he could feel me the same way I could feel him. "What's your name little slave?" He asked, taking the key from Jasper and unlocking my chains, and cuffs. I instantly came to life, and tried to dash away - only to be caught and pinned by strong arms. Clawing and scratching at any exposed skin I could reach, I struggled until his arms tightened around my cracked ribs. The pain was so intense, I could barely fill my lungs, let alone continue fighting. To his credit, he eased off as soon as my demeanor changed, though I was already shaking. "I asked you a question," he said in my ear. "She hasn't spoken yet, sir," said Jasper helpfully. "Perhaps she's simple." "So, not only were your men out smarted by a girl, she was an incapable one at that? Am I understanding you correctly?" He asked humorously, and Jasper laughed. "A point well made, sir!" He replied with a bow and a flourish. "May I ask what you're planning for her?" "First order of business is a bath," he said holding me at arm's length. "I'd like to see what's under all this filth." "And then?" Jasper prompted, eying me maliciously. "Easy, slaver. I can't tell if I have a diamond, or a lump of coal just yet. Why the interest?" The captain asked as he propelled me toward a door. "She's caused me a lot of trouble over the years, and now this," he said gesturing to the scratches on his face. "I owe her a debt." I refused to make eye contact, lest he see the sudden fear I knew was etched on my face. "Why not settle this 'debt' before the auction?" "It's bad form to sell used slaves! Well, that and I had a deadline to keep," said Jasper, and the captain laughed, opening a door and herding me through it. I let my mind wander, only peripherally listening to the conversation flowing around me as I looked for a means of escape. "If she becomes a pleasure slave I'll let you know. She might be more profitable in the fighting rings, so no guarantees," he said, directing my path. "Though if my men continue to perform like they did today, I'll make her the only pleasure slave they have access to," he added. "It was a bad day Captain Rawlings, have a heart!" Marco cried, clutching his chest. "What do you think it will do for company morale, if she's -" "I will personally ensure you never use another pleasure slave, soldier." He said in a tight voice, cutting off Marco's complaint mid-sentence. "Pleasure slaves are a reward for your efficiency in combat, not something you're entitled to. And because I pay for them and train them, I can also prevent your access to them. Don't fuck with me today, Marco." I chanced a glance at Marco, and was surprised to find him flushed. Captain Rawlings, the Elite, must be a force to be reckoned with. And he was my new owner. Fantastic. The two soldiers said their goodbyes to Jasper, and we continued walking through the burned out streets and empty buildings while I seethed inside. Unfortunately, I was without the strength to continue fighting the captain with every step. It had been hours since my last meal and my diet provided very little staying power considering I ate nothing but fruit, nuts and berries. It was a great way to get instant energy, but I had to eat continuously throughout the day to keep my energy up. When we arrived at an Eloran bathhouse, I was barely keeping pace. The captain pushed open the door and my senses were immediately assailed by the cloying scent of perfume, high pitched, girlish laughter, and worse of all the sticky heat of a public bath. When the humid air hit me in the face like a brick, I stumbled. My palms struck the hard concrete and before I had a chance to react, I was being hauled up by the back of my rough spun shirt. His fingers dug into the whiplash, opening the wound, but I was too overwhelmed to do more than grimace at the pain. When I was standing, the Captain released me, his hand covered in blood. "Shit. Are you injured slave?" He asked, gingerly turning my face toward him. Knowing his ego would probably demand an answer, and betting he wouldn't want to force me to speak until he knew the extent of my injury, I snorted in derision. He stared at me, and I did my best not to fidget under his scrutiny. But the truth was, I was starting to feel dizzy in the heat, and my lips were tingling. Actually, my hands were going numb, and if I didn't know better, it felt like I was going to - Everything went white, and I vaguely remember hitting the floor for the second time in under a minute. When I came too I was being carried. I took a mental inventory of my body, making sure there was nothing wrong with any of my limbs. As soon as I was sure I was capable, I came to life, struggling madly until the man carrying me cursed and I dropped to the ground. My ribs screamed in protest, but I knew this was my second wind and last chance to make a break for it. I started running as soon as I had my feet under me. For such a large building there weren't very many people present, which was both a blessing and a hinderance. My only hope lay in my superior agility from all my years running in the trees. There was a spiral staircase sloping gently to a second floor to my right, and I veered off without warning. The sensation of narrowly escaping capture made my heart flutter, and I poured everything I had into my mad dash. If I attempted to take the steps - like a normal person - I would loose my advantage immediately. They would be able to take two or three stairs at a time, where I would be lucky to make two without tripping. The wide banister caught my attention, and trusting my instincts, I lept onto it. The banister was polished wood, but it wasn't much different from running on branches slick with freezing rain, and was certainly easier than trying to do it silently. There was shouting coming from all around me now - there must have been more people here than I'd thought. I could hear heavy masculine steps from the stairs on my left, and shouted orders coming from the floor below. I'd reached the second floor, and launched myself from the banister. The pain in my ribs had receded into a dull ache, muted no doubt, by the adrenaline coursing through my veins, but I was sure I would pay for this later. A large man wearing nothing but a towel, appeared in front of me, blocking my path. I skidded to a halt, sides heaving painfully. My body jerked in surprise as our eyes met - this man was an Elite Warrior, and far more powerful than Captain Rawlings, which could only mean one thing. An enslaved Priestess was feeding him energy. With wild eyes I searched for another exit. "Nowhere to go, Hob," said the deep voice of the captain from behind me. My next actions surprised even me; I rushed toward the Elite in the towel, and dove between his spread legs, yanking the towel from his hips as I went. I was hoping he would be modest enough that suddenly exposing him would give me the chance to put some more distance between us. No such luck. "You've got a wild one Asher!" He said, laughing in a deep throaty voice I could feel in my chest. There was a window at the end of the hall, and I lengthened my steps trying to make it before the Elites could get their hands on me. This was my very last chance. I slammed into the wall, fingers desperately trying to open the window. It didn't budge. "It's sealed shut, Hob," said the captain, his voice steady. "No!" Came a strangled cry from my throat. My voice was distorted with disuse and terrified sobs. I slammed my fists into the glass, trying to break it. When it became clear the glass was reinforced, and my bones would break long before it would, I spun around facing my captors. My instinct had demanded I seek the highest ground, and it had gotten me cornered like a wild animal. "Easy, Hob, easy," said the captain, advancing on me. Tears spilled over my lashes, and I adopted a fighting stance, though my legs were trembling with exhaustion. He had the nerve to laugh. I sucked in an outraged breath, and bared my teeth. No, I won't be doing this the easy way. "Would you get a look at those teeth!" Said the naked Elite, as Marco joined us in the narrow hall. "Looks like an angry little wild cat." "The rest of the slaves are out of the building," Marco said under his breath to the Captain, who nodded his understanding. He took another tentative step in my direction. "Make this easy on yourself," he said in a reasonable tone. I turned my right fist around, and extended my middle finger. He lunged at me, and faster than I would have believed possible I was struggling in his arms once again. I fought as hard as I could until my whole body shook with exertion, and sweat coated my skin. The Captain wasn't even winded. "General Tilcot, would you mind putting on some clothes?" He drawled. "Don't start without me captain. I want to see what our wild cat looks like under all this," said General Tilcot, plucking at my clothes. The captain dragged me back down the stairs, stopping in front of a large pool of water with waist high stone walls. Marco retrieved a matronly woman from another room, who took one look at me and tisked in disapproval. "What am I to do with this mess, sir?" She said in a shrill voice. "Beau, this is Hob. My newest acquisition. I haven't decided what I want to do with her yet," Captain Rawlings replied as he lifted my hands above my head and fastened them to chains hanging from the ceiling. With my body stretched taught, there was no way for me to favor my injured ribs, and I cried out in pain. Stiffness from my earlier exertion was beginning to set in, and I no longer had the benefit of adrenaline as a painkiller. He shushed me, and drew a wicked looking blade. I glared at him through the tears streaking down my face. He cut through my treasured clothing with little ceremony, not stopping until there was a crumpled heap on the floor and I was naked. Beau gasped when my torso was exposed, and everyone else was silent. I craned my head around to inspect my ribs, and was surprised to see a massive purple bruise spreading across my midsection. "Fucking slavers!" Captain Rawlings hissed, and tossed his blade onto a nearby table. "I overheard Jasper saying he hired bounty hunters to catch her. Must have caused a lot of trouble." This from Marco, who had moved from my line of vision to inspect my back with the others. I felt General Tilcot's approach before I could see him, such was his power. "Would you like my Sasha to heal our little wild cat?" He asked after a moment of gently prodding my wounds. "There's no sense in training an injured slave." "Sasha's services would be greatly appreciated, General, my thanks," Captain Rawlings replied. If there was any color left in my dirty face, it drained at the mention of Sasha. That had been the name of the High Priestess before Tritan fell. She'd been our most powerful healer, and the one to test prospective young priestess. If this was the same woman, she would be able to feel my own modest power the instant she laid eyes on me. How could I possibly use my power, to hide my power? If I did nothing, would she recognize me as a fellow priestess, just as I had known these men were Elite the instant I saw them? There was nothing for me to do but hope, especially in my weakened and restrained state. "Come to the bathhouse, Sasha," General Tilcot ordered, speaking into a masculine looking wrist cuff. It appeared to be pure gold inlaid with precious gems, and I thought it was pretentious to flaunt his wealth when so many others were scrambling for food. The cuff must function as a radio, because a few minutes later a side door opened revealing the very last face I wanted to see. Sasha was the embodiment of pure Tritan. Her nearly white hair hung to her slim waist, and her skin was so pale it appeared translucent, though it was unblemished and glowed with health. She wore a beautiful blue wrap that hung off her slender frame, enhancing her femininity. Golden cuffs circled her wrists and throat, and I realized they were a match to the one on the general's wrist. This must be how they enslave us, though I had no idea how it worked. Her crystalline blue eyes met mine, and the older woman visibly blanched. She knew. "She's thin for a pleasure slave," said Marco from behind me, effectively drawing my attention away from impending doom. "I like it when there's something to hold on to, you know? A woman is supposed to have curves. A man has muscles." He grabbed my hips, testing his grip. "Don't you have something to do, soldier?" Asked the captain. "Nothing more interesting than this," he replied. "Sasha, don't just stand there staring, you foolish girl! Get your ass over here," growled General Tilcot. She jumped and hurried to his side. I hung my head, waiting for her to give me away. "What's her story, my Lord?" Sasha asked, and my eyes filled with tears at the sound of her voice - it had been years since I'd heard a Tritan accent. I couldn't imagine a more inappropriate time to feel homesick. "Not sure, she doesn't say much. She's Captain Rawlings' newest purchase, and it seems the slavers have treated her badly," said the General, stroking Sasha's hair affectionately. My stomach flipped as I watched the display - wasn't he the enemy? Shouldn't she hate him? And if she doesn't will she tell everyone what I really am? "See what you can do for her, pet. I'm sure the captain would like to get to her training." She approached me slowly, hands out. I eyed her suspiciously, trying to determine if she knew my identity or not. Her cold hands touched the bruised skin on my ribs, and I flinched. "It's OK, I'm not going to hurt you," she said softly. I felt it then - the pure energy of a healer flowing into my body. My own gift flooded to the surface as I instinctively tried to lend her strength. Her fingers dug into my ribs sharply in warning. "Try to relax," she said tightly, but I understood her message. This needed to be a routine healing, unremarkable in every way. If I gave her access to my energy, it would be over too soon. I forced my power back, though it wasn't easy, and by the time she had finished sweat was pouring down my face. The pain was all but gone, and I took a deep breath, luxuriating in my ability to do so. "What's wrong with her?" Asked the captain, peering into my eyes. "She's terrified, sir," said Sasha. "But she should be fine after some rest." "You can feel that?" He asked, surprised. "Yes sir. She's making me jittery," she said as the general pulled her to his side. I tried to send her my gratitude with a meaningful look and a nod, but knew it wouldn't be enough. "I'd like to know what happens to this slave, Asher." The general said, preparing to leave. "She's made my morning very entertaining." They exchanged their goodbyes and the captain agreed to bring me along to a lunch at a later date, assuming my training went well. Sasha threw me an encouraging look over her shoulder as they departed, though it did nothing to make me feel better. "Time for a bath, Sir?" Asked Beau. "Yes, and I think we'll keep her restrained for now," said the captain. His hand settled on my lower back, and he guided me into the warm water of the bathing pool. I gasped as my body was submerged - I'd spent years washing with melted snow and freezing cold river water. This was a glorious change of pace. "Feels good doesn't it slave?" Said the captain. I stiffened, snapping out of my momentary lapse in guarded control. He was leaning against the edge of the pool with an amused smirk on his face. "This is called bathing," he said gesturing at me and the hot water as if I were a simple child. "You'll be doing this on a regular basis now." The desire to tell him exactly what I thought of his decree nearly undid me. The arrogance of the man! Beau brought a rough brush to my freshly healed back and started scrubbing vigorously. I tried to pull away from her, but was restricted by my chains. So far I had managed to remain indifferent to my nudity as they were regarding me with the same interest one might show a rabid animal. But the intimacy of being bathed by another, as if I were somehow incapable or wouldn't do a thorough job, was too much. Granted, I didn't appear to have a strict hygiene routine, and hadn't argued when Captain Rawlings had belittled me only moments ago, but this lady was absolutely off her rocker if she thought - The captain dumped a bucket of warm water over my head, causing me to yelp in surprise. Coughing, I tried to rub my eyes as the dye began to run. In the panic of the last few hours, I'd completely forgotten about the life span of my walnut dye. If they succeeded in washing my hair now, I would have roughly three more baths before my lineage would be obvious. "Look at the state of that water, and she's still filthy!" Said Marco with a low whistle. "Captain, I promise to do double duty next week. Please don't make her a pleasure slave. The fighters like being dirty, she'd fit right in." "And last about thirty seconds. Go do something else Marco. You're distracting me," said the captain, as he poured another bucket over my head and Beau finished scrubbing my back. She squirted some pink, fruity smelling soap into her hand and began massaging my scalp. She couldn't run her fingers through my hair though she spent several painful minutes trying. "I may need the other girls in here, Sir. And some scissors," Beau said, tugging at a particularly thick clump of hair. "Are these feathers?" She asked in surprise. "Try your best to brush it out," the captain replied. "And get some wax." He tugged on the tuft of pubic hair covering the core of my femininity, which was also dyed a dark brown. It took several hours, and a score of women working diligently, but I eventually resembled a human being once again. My hair was now a soft caramel, which I found alarming, while the other women fawned over it. The drastic change must have come from Beau's use of soap, which I hadn't had the luxury of using while testing my walnut dye. There was no way of knowing how long my disguise would last now, and I was terrified. The Last Tritan The captain had been present for the entire humiliating ordeal, apparently concerned I would try and attack the other women. I tried to prevent the fury from showing on my face, but knew I was failing miserably. When at last the women were finished with their undertaking, my skin glowed pink and was completely unblemished by walnut stains. My hair had been brushed straight, shortened by several inches, and in some places was completely gone. To say the waxing had been an unpleasant experience was a grotesque understatement, and not one I was looking forward to repeating. I was dressed in thin, silky scraps of clothing that barely covered the essential bits, and made me look like a frilly little doll. "Well would you look at that," said Marco, as Beau lead me from the bathing area. "Our little wild cat's been transformed into a real girl!" He said in a mocking tone, reaching out to touch me. I bared my teeth in warning. "But perhaps not quite civilized," said the captain, following closely. He placed a heavy hand on my shoulder and I immediately tried to pull away. His grip merely tightened. It was enough to restrain me, as I was too tired from the day's events to attempt another rebellion. "What will I call you pet? Hob is a terrible name for a pleasure slave." I feigned ignorance to the captain's question. With an indignant shriek, Beau spun on her heel and slapped me with an open hand. My head snapped to the side, but I was too shocked to make a sound. "Of all the insolent, ungrateful -" She didn't have time to finish her sentence. I lunged at her, fueled by rage, too fast for the captain to react. My fist connected with her face so hard I was sure I'd broken something, but I continued attacking, wrapping my hands around her throat. My retaliation was short lived. A thick bicep circled my throat, squeezing mercilessly as I tried to recover my airway. "Stop!" Said the captain's harsh voice against my ear. I could feel the hard length of a muscular body dwarfing me, and immediately realized I was outmatched. My advantage lay in stealth attacks - not in hand to hand combat where my slight stature was easily overcome, regardless of my skill level. The irrational side of my brain was screaming I should fight tooth and nail for oxygen - logically I understood submission was the only path to freedom. I raised shaking hands in surrender. "Good girl," he said, letting me breathe but keeping me firmly restrained. Marco was helping Beau to her feet, who was clutching a swollen cheek and glaring at me through her tears. "How dare you!" She cried. "Beau." The captain's voice was sharp with a clear reprimand, and I let a taunting smile creep onto my face. "Punish her!" She screamed, then froze. "Sir." She added in a terrified squeak. "Hob's training is no concern of yours," the captain replied in a cold voice. "I'm sorry, Sir! I have no idea what's come over me!" Beau said in a whisper with her head hung in shame. Completely disgusted by her subservience, my lip curled, and I took a step away from her. The Captain noticed and wrapped his hand in my hair, forcing my neck to arch, and my head to rest against his shoulder. "You're forgiven, of course Beau. Take the rest of the day for yourself, and get that eye looked at." She thanked the Captain, and fled the room. "Quite the right cross you've got there, wild cat!" Marco teased. "Get out," said the captain in an icy tone. "Yes sir!" He replied with a salute, and disappeared. "It's time you learned your place, pet," he said, savagely twisting my right arm behind my back. He marched me through the exit and into the brisk air, and didn't let up on my arm until we'd entered the remains of a beautiful old town house. My parents had owned a similar residence before the war, and I'd spent many nights curled up in a comfortable chair as I listened to my father regale us with tales of Tritan politics. Captain Rawlings dragged me to the study, drawing me out of my past as he closed the door with a sharp snap. "Beau has been in my family for thirty years," he said looming over me. I failed to see the significance of this information, so I stared back at him with no expression. "Not once in that entire time has she lost her temper, nor has a single person raised a hand to her." I shrugged, and his gaze darkened. I knew I was playing with fire - I was just too tired and angry to care. His eyes burned into mine as I tried my best to maintain neutral features. I'd been alone for so long that I was no longer able to function among other people in a normal situation - which this was not - and I began to fidget under his gaze. He turned away from me then, the action seeming to dare me to make a break for it. I remained where I was standing, though my legs were shaking and I was honestly unsure how much longer I would be able to continue to do so. "Let's start with your name, shall we?" He said, opening a drawer and arranging a series of cruel looking whips and crops on the desk. The captain stalked toward me, his movements graceful like those of a deadly mountain lion. I stepped back involuntarily, fear beginning to seep into my mask of indifference. "I'll ask you once more, and then things will get very unpleasant for you, slave. What is your name?" The menace poured off him when I continued to disobey, and he caught my wrists in his large calloused hand and pulled me into his chest. The action may have been considered tender, if not for the trembling of our bodies - one in fear, the other in anger. "I like doing things the hard way," he said in a conversational tone, snapping a set of cuffs on my wrists and dragging me to a hook dangling from the ceiling. "It just feels good to accomplish something no one else can, or wants to, in your case." He retrieved a bar with two leather bands at each end, and proceeded to strap it between my spread ankles. My range of motion was severely restricted in this position, and he chuckled as I tested the bonds. "When I ask a question I expect an answer," he murmured, gently removing the scraps of silk from my body, leaving me exposed in the chilly air of his office. Eying his assortment of whips, I was aware his care was probably for the condition of the silk, the value of which was certainly more than he had spent on me. "There are several ways to train a slave," he began in a soft voice. "And it takes many years of practice to find a preferred method, but most agree using a single tail whip is not only hard to use, but dangerous for the slave. Of course, you already know this. You felt the true bite of a whip just this morning." He stepped behind me, and I shivered as he traced a warm finger where the whiplash had been. "When you've trained as many slaves as I have, you begin to see the whip as your most valuable asset. Practice makes perfect, as they say." He retrieved a small white bag from a shelf, ignoring the weapons laid out before me. "However, I've found the most effective punishment for unwanted behavior to be the combination of two very different things. This is a bag of rice," he said, holding the open bag under my nose before dumping the contents on the floor at my feet. He loosened the chain in the ceiling, giving my arms plenty of moving space, and I frowned in confusion. "Kneel," he barked in a voice that brooked no argument. I decided against obedience. He smiled then, seeming to enjoy my show of defiance. Pushing the hair back from my face, he tangled his fingers in my caramel colored locks, and gently pulled. He continued to add pressure to my scalp, until I was struggling to keep my head up, or bow under the pressure. "Kneel," he said again as I lost my battle. With my ankles bound to the bar, I had no way to ease myself into a kneeling position and thumped painfully onto the scattered rice. I grunted as the tiny grains dug into my flesh, and immediately tried to shuffle to a more comfortable position. Struggling only made it worse, and I glared at him with as much silent venom as I could muster. "Uncomfortable isn't it?" He lowered himself to my level, and I bared my teeth as sweat began to form on my brow. I was no longer confused by his actions - this was indeed a cruel punishment. Rising and selecting a whip with a braided leather pommel, he said, "It's been awhile since a slave of mine has needed a good whipping, I hope I haven't lost my touch." He gave the whip an experimental crack behind me and I flexed my muscles in horrid anticipation. The air whistled as he brought the whip across my back hard enough to make me yelp, but not enough to lay open my skin. My back arched as I writhed against the pain, my every movement grinding grains of rice into the thin skin of my knees. "One," he said from behind me, and the air screamed again as he brought a whip down on the exposed skin of my bottom. "Two," he murmured. I gasped and clenched my teeth, determined to bare this punishment in silence. By the time he got to six I was trembling, and tears were streaming down my face. The pain of each new lash was compounding with those that had come before, giving me no chance to recuperate, and my constant struggling had broken the skin of my knees. But I was nothing if not stubborn, and had completely focused on making it to ten, the assumption being my punishment could go no further. "Eleven," he said in a dispassionate voice, and I knew then he intended to continue until I'd lost our little power struggle, or I was beaten bloody. "Stop," I said in a broken whisper, hoping my accent wouldn't be noticeable at this decibel. "Your name?" He ran his hands over the bruised skin on my back, bottom and thighs. I shook my head, moaning in pain and fear. "I can keep this up as long as you'd like, pet. It's up to you." "I don't remember!" I cried, panic flooding my system. Cold steel bit into my wrists as I fought with the ferocity of a trapped animal to free myself, though some part of my brain was aware I was wasting precious energy. "You are a puzzle aren't you?" He said, stroking my hair back when I had calmed down. The action infuriated me, but I was utterly spent, and sagged in his arms when released from my chains. "I don't believe you of course, but I've gotten everything I needed for tonight. Now, what do I expect when I ask a question?" He prompted. "An answer," I whispered, disgusted by my weakness. "Good girl. We'll work on respectfully addressing your betters tomorrow." My eyes widened at his words - if I had been predisposed to voicing my thoughts, I would have been speechless. I'd been taken to a small concrete room with no windows. It smelled strongly of cleaning products, and the floor was cold on my bare feet. Given the heavy air-tight door, I assumed this had been a cold room for food storage before the war. The captain gave me a push and I stumbled into the small room, clutching at my naked skin. The fact that I couldn't remember how he'd gotten me here spoke volumes about my mental state. "Are these sleeping quarters to your satisfaction?" He asked with a smug grin on his face. I glared at him and turned away, my entire body aching with exhaustion. "Slave!" He barked, and in the small room his voice was a clap of thunder. I hadn't noticed the whip wound around his waist, but very nearly screamed when he began to uncoil it. "Yes," I said hastily, my voice almost unrecognizable as human. "Yes what slave?" He said, and gave the whip an experimental crack. "This is fine?" I said being intentionally dense. There was still the risk he would recognize my accent, so I was trying to keep my sentences to a bare minimum. "I would like you to think on lesson two tonight," he said, leaning against the door frame. "You may only address me as sir. So I'll ask again, are these sleeping quarters to your satisfaction?" "Yes sir," I whispered, hanging my head, though the room was anything but adequate. "Good girl," he praised. I dug my nails into the skin of my palms, trying to maintain my air of subservience. He stared at me for a while longer while I fidgeted, and I had the impression he was trying to feel me out. I could feel the color drain from my face as a terrifying thought occurred to me - if the more powerful of the Tritan priestesses could manipulate energy the same way an Elite could, why wouldn't the opposite be true for the more powerful of the Elites? If he could feel my energy, it would only be a matter of time before he realized I was Tritan. I cleared my throat in an attempt to break his concentration, and to my horror I felt a sudden lessening of strength in the small room. "Do you have something to say, pet?" He drawled. "No sir." My voice was barely audible, but I saw a smug look flicker across his features, no doubt at the use of my 'respectful address'. He stepped into the room, filling it with his essence. "So pretty," he mused and stroked a finger over my lips - I was too terrified to move. "You'll make a wonderful pleasure slave, once we adjust your attitude." He left me then, closing the heavy door behind him, plunging me into complete darkness. I collapsed on the floor sinking my teeth into the meat of my thumb to keep the screams trapped in my throat. I was totally convinced he could sense my Tritan heritage - it was just a matter of how long it would take him to realize it. I couldn't use my gifts to heal the welts on my back or the cuts on my knees, as I'd been planning to do, for fear it would be the clue he needed to solve the puzzle. No, I would have to suffer through the lingering pain, and try to get some sleep. With that thought firmly in mind I crawled to the closest wall and pressed my burning, wounded flesh against the cool surface of the concrete. I was instantly relieved, though not entirely, and hugged my knees to my chest in an attempt to conserve body heat. I had two things to be happy about, as dire as my present circumstances might have appeared. First, he'd tossed me into this dark room no doubt hoping the seclusion would help break my spirit. He couldn't have been more wrong, and I cherished his error in judgment. There was nothing I knew better than how to be alone. Second, and most important, I had successfully managed to hang on to my identity for one more day, all I needed was an opportunity. I lay on my side curled in the fetal position and let my tired mind ponder how much my life had changed in so short a time. Quickly realizing those thoughts were not conducive to a good night's sleep, I tried to strengthen my resolve for the stress tomorrow would bring. The last thought to float through my mind before sleep claimed me was most disturbing of all. What if the point of tonight's little session hadn't been to learn my name, but to force me to speak? * * * Thanks for reading! I hope you've enjoyed it so far, and please feel free to let me know what you think - I can handle it ;) Next chapters posted soon!