THE CHOOSING Read online

  The young slaves backed towards the table, cowering by the wall. As if on cue, the door swung open and a large guard stood in the doorway. He carried a sword sheathed in a well-used scabbard and a dagger in his boot. Clutched lovingly in his hands was a short, wooden-handled whip.

  He must have been listening through the door, Feenix thought.

  Feenix stood to her full height and smiled a dangerous grin.

  “I believe I’ll wait for my current set of stripes to heal completely before accepting your generous offer.” There was no way she was going to allow them to beat her senseless again, so soon after gaining her feet. Tactical retreat was the best form of attack. Sometimes.

  Lala nodded to the guard, and he stepped to the side of the door and stood with his back to the corridor wall, watching and waiting for Feenix to make a wrong move. The two young slaves looked at the head slave with begging eyes. With another curt nod, she allowed them to leave the room. The guard closed the door slowly.

  “Prince L’Garn has left orders that you are to remain in this room for now.” As Feenix opened her mouth to argue, Lala continued, “I am to teach you the order of things before you are given your work assignment.”

  “You will answer my questions?”

  Lala folded her arms across her chest. “I will tell you the order of things so that you will know what you may do and what you may not do. It is very obvious to me and Prince L’Garn that you do not know the way of the silvan people. I am to help you learn how to keep from causing yourself harm.”

  She turned and walked over to the table. Feenix merely stood in the middle of the room, wondering if she was dreaming or perhaps in the middle of a fevered hallucination. This elf was going to tell her, Captain Feenix of Port Marcus, how to stay out of trouble?

  “You may sit in my presence, Teela, but only after I give you permission to do so. Otherwise it is not proper for a new slave to take such liberties.”

  Feenix blinked at the old elf. Lala settled herself in the room’s only comfortable chair and motioned to the stool. “I give you permission now to sit.”

  By Mac Lir’s big thumb, the elf actually thought she could tell her what to do? Permission to sit down?

  “Permission to sit down?” Her voice was pitched high in amazement. “You give me permission to sit down?”

  Feenix kicked the stool across the room and it shattered against the stone wall.

  “By Mac Lir’s ears, that’s very nice of you, Lala, to give me permission to sit down. However, I think I’ll pass right now because I’m just a little too agitated to sit.” She towered over the elf sitting calmly in the chair. Feenix forced herself to keep her fury in check and not strangle the little elf. “Is it proper for me to tell you to take a flying leap into an abyss?”

  “Whatever you were before coming to Cragimore,” Lala said to the glowering Feenix, “does not exist here. You are a slave, and if you hope to survive, you will learn to act and speak as one.” The elf stood and confronted Feenix’s rage calmly. “I know what it is like to be ripped from all you hold dear. What it is like to lose friends and family and be forced into labor that is alien and beneath you. But I survived, Teela, and you can too. With my help.”

  “I am not like you, elf,” Feenix ground out between clenched teeth. “I will not survive as you do. I will escape.”

  The look the old slave gave her was sad and weary. With a shake of her gray head she dismissed the woman’s words.

  “How will you escape, Teela? You do not even know the way to the entrance. You were blindfolded when the Prince brought you in. You will never be given duties that will allow you to that part of the caverns.

  “If you are lucky, you will find favor with the prince and he will eventually give you to a master who will not beat you too often and give you totally demeaning duties. If you are not so lucky,” she continued, “you will be beaten every day for your insolence. Then, the best you will be able to hope for is a swift death.”

  Feenix ground her teeth and balled her hands into tight fists. By the god’s beard, how she wanted to punch someone’s face in! She had half a mind to pummel this old slave into a lifeless pulp, but she knew her present situation wasn’t Lala’s doing. It was all that elf-man’s fault. And the fickle god who claimed to have Feenix’s good at heart.

  “You know nothing of me, slave. I am a warrior—a damned good one—and your elf-man prince will not hold me captive here forever. I will escape. And I will take great pleasure out of killing as many elves as possible as I leave!”

  “You are a foolish human. Despite your brave words, you are only a female, after all.”

  “Do you have such low esteem of our sex, Lala, that you do not think we can accomplish the desires of our hearts?”

  “When the desire is to act as a male and to accomplish the impossible, I do not believe it can be achieved.”

  Feenix raked the old elf with hard eyes. “I pray to the gods I never believe that my dreams are impossible. For the day I stop dreaming will be the day of my death. In the meantime, I do not lie. I am a warrior. I will escape, and when I do, Cragimore will not long remain standing.”

  “Brave words for a female. Brave, false words.”

  Neither Lala nor Feenix had noticed that L’Garn had entered the room during their heated words. Both women swung around and faced the handsome prince. Lala silently dropped in a deep curtsy, bowing her head and hiding her face.

  Feenix took two long strides, pulled back her fist, and punched L’Garn full in the mouth.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  She hit him! By the Jewels, the human hit him in the jaw. Pain exploded inside his mouth and he grabbed her wrist as she delivered another punch, this time to his stomach. She ducked as he tried to capture her with his free arm. She swung around and kicked out, using her foot in a totally unmilitary maneuver. Her heel caught him on the thigh, and for a second his leg wanted to buckle.

  No female had ever dared to talk back to him, and certainly none had ever hit him. L’Garn fought his temper as he attempted to subdue the furious human. He did not want to hurt her, but he was beginning to think the only way to stop her attacks was to render her unconscious with a punch to the jaw.

  They fought in silence; only their labored breathing and the occasional grunt of pain from a well-placed punch broke the stillness of the room. Even Old Lala stood back and watched the fight in shocked silence.

  L’Garn could have easily pinned the human. The thought of grabbing a fist full of the long black braid and pulling her head back flashed through his mind, but for some unknown reason he did not want to use her own weakness against her. She was weak from her recent ordeal under the whip, and he knew she was tiring fast. He could bide his time.

  In the meantime, he continued to evade most of her jabs. The ones she landed became less and less powerful. He saw the truth in her eyes. She knew he was just waiting her out.

  “Come on, you scum,” she panted. He watched her try to ignore a stab of pain as she used her back muscles to throw another punch. “I’ll kill you for daring to make a slave out of me!”

  L’Garn ducked a wildly thrown punch to his head, and finally caught her other wrist in an iron fist. Hooking his foot behind her leg, he pulled her off balance and into his arms.

  Even in her weakened and exhausted state, it took a fair amount of strength for him to hold on to her. Wrapping his arms fully around her, he pinned her arms, one down at her side and the other trapped between their chests. She continued to struggle, trying to kick him, but her feet were pitiful weapons without hard boots. He maintained his hold on the struggling woman, waiting for her to tire.

  L’Garn looked down into her face and absorbed a blast of hate and rage that rocked his soul. Their eyes locked in a war of wills that was just as desperate, it seemed to him, as the physical battle that held them both. In fascination, he watched as her eyes changed from deep blue and filled with rage, to a softer hue that swirled with confusion mixed with some unexplained emot
ion.

  Rage and hate he understood.

  This was something completely unknown to him.

  Her feet came to a gradual stop. Her body grew softer and a little more pliable as she relaxed in his arms. Strange that, as her body became softer, his body became as hard as stone. He could not pull his gaze away from her eyes.

  Unbidden, her human scent assailed his nose and the hairs on the back of his head stood on end as a wave of premonition or anticipation washed through him. His heart slammed against his chest as if he had just raced up a mountain. He felt her breath change and catch in her throat.

  Why should this human affect him in this way?

  With an angry growl, he filled his hand with the silky braid and jerked her head back. Instantly, the long smooth column of her tanned neck, the beauty of its clean lines broken only by the silver circle of the slave collar, lay under his gaze; awaiting his assault. A low moan escaped the woman, but she remained acquiescent in his arms.

  He had intended to force her to acknowledge his mastery, to feel his determination to have her as a slave, but he did not want to hurt her, only intimidate her. However, with the long expanse of her neck before him, he stilled. She swallowed, and he watched the movement in amazement. Such a slender neck. He could easily snap it with his hand.

  Without conscious thought, he bent and placed his mouth on the base of her throat, exactly over the tiny pulse that he saw fluttering beneath her tanned skin. His tongue felt the faint beat of her lifeblood racing through her body. Her taste was exquisite, foreign and exotic. And forbidden.

  The woman growled low in her throat. He felt it through his lips and the tip of his tongue rather than heard it. The taste became a need to sample more.

  L’Garn nibbled and savored his way to her jaw and chin. As his lips progressed up her neck, his grasp on her hair loosened, and she slowly brought her head up. He nibbled her chin. She tipped her head and captured his lips with hers.

  Again his heart slammed into his chest, and this time it felt as if it would burst. There was nothing timid and innocent about her kiss. This was a female who had been kissed often and knew exactly how to extract a male’s soul with the touch of tongue and lips. Need and hunger lay in wait for him as he explored the taste and texture of her mouth.

  Unbidden, Lala’s presence made itself known to him. He broke the kiss roughly, although his instincts screamed for him to linger in the woman’s arms. He had to regain control of himself and the situation.

  “Do not ever dare to hit me again, Teela.”

  He could not seem to catch his breath, and as a result, his voice was rougher than he intended. He watched her eyes change yet again. The anger was back. Her body became rigid with rage and she moved with unexpected speed, jerking free of his relaxed hands.

  She spit in his face, then wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her gown.

  “Don’t ever touch me again, elf-man, unless you want to die.”

  L’Garn pushed her roughly away, then wiped the spittle from his cheek.

  “No amount of spitting will help, Teela. You will always have the taste of me on your tongue, and the knowledge that I am your master in your heart.”

  Before she could reply, he turned to Lala and barked an order regarding the new slave’s duties.

  Then he left the room before he did something he would regret for a very long time.

  Why was it that at every encounter with the human, he became more confused rather than more enlightened? Perhaps he had made a mistake in capturing her? He hated to admit it, but he did not know how to school her into obedience without punishment and pain.

  Frustration and anger made his head pound. He would throw himself into the preparations for battle with the Sea Elves. That should keep thoughts of the human at bay for a while.

  ~*~

  Feenix stood in the room and watched the prince storm out in anger. What, by Mac Lir’s brass bells, had she been thinking? Had she actually kissed that insufferable scum? Again she wiped the back of her hand across her swollen lips. The taste and smell of him lingered on her lips and in the air.

  The room wavered before her eyes. Her muscles refused to obey her, and the nerves covering every inch of her body screamed in pain. Her brain decided that the best way to stop the clamoring of pain was to shut down her body functions. Feenix pitched forward.

  Lala was there to catch her. She led Feenix to the side of the bed and helped her to sit.

  “Are you determined to die, human?” The old slave checked the wounds on Feenix’s back and made annoyed sounds as she worked.

  “He deserved a punch in the mouth and much more. I’ve been itching to hit him from the first moment I laid eyes on him!”

  Lala smoothed some salve on a wound and continued her lecture.

  “It seems to me you are begging to be killed. Was the whipping not enough to teach you obedience? Must you also hit Prince L’Garn and then kiss him?”

  “I didn’t kiss him, he kissed me!” Feenix jerked away from Lala’s touch. “And it was the worst kiss I’ve ever had!”

  Lala gathered up the medicine and stood. “It seemed to me that you enjoyed the kiss very much, Teela. If you have plans to become L’Garn’s concubine, you will have to refrain from hitting him. Males do not like it when a female hits them.”

  “I don’t have any plans except to escape from this dank hole! And I will, just as soon as you let me out of this room!”

  “You will be leaving this room soon, and then we will see how you will manage this escape of yours,” the old slave said as she put away the salve and picked up the chair that had been knocked over in the fight. “His highness has given orders that you are well enough to begin light duties. The guards will be here momentarily to replace your fetters.”

  Feenix jumped up, ignoring the pain in her back. “By the god’s blue eyes, what fetters? I will not be chained again, slave! I will kill you before I let you put chains on me again.”

  “As you killed the prince?” the slave asked as she opened the door to admit two large elves carrying swords and clubs.

  Feenix backed up a step. If she could just get her hands on one of those swords, she knew she could fight her way clear of the room.

  “And then what, Feenix?” a voice deep within her mind asked. “Are you going to fight the entire Night Elf population all by yourself? I think not.”

  The smell of rosemary drifted to her senses, and she recognized the detached voice of Rendolin Hiloris.

  “Cooperate for now, captain. Learn all you can and let us know. It will make your rescue certain.”

  Damn elf! She hated it when he was right. She would cooperate—for now. But she wasn’t going to like it one little bit!

  The guards grabbed her and forced her against the wall. The barely healed cuts on her back burned in protest. A chain about the length of two arms was threaded through the ring attached to her collar. Then each end of the chain was attached to metal bracelets on her wrists. The chain was not long enough to allow her to put both hands down at her side. However, the ring on the collar allowed the chain to slide so she could extend one arm to its full length, but the other arm was forced to remain bent to allow the length of the chain to accommodate the other arm. With each slide of the chain, a grating vibration banged through the base of her head, setting her teeth on edge and making her temples hurt.

  The whole process took more time than the guards had expected, for Feenix was not about to let them put the fetters on without a fight. The process was also painful. The guards saw no reason to be gentle, especially after one of Feenix’s feet almost connected with one of the elf’s most tender bits of anatomy.

  Finally, the guards stepped back and Feenix steadied herself against the stone wall. The weight of the chain attached to the collar bit into the soft flesh of her neck. The manacles were already chaffing her wrists. The god had a lot to answer for, she fumed to herself.

  “Now, Teela,” the head slave said to her. “I will show you the main
slave quarters. Your feet have not been shackled because his highness did not think you would be foolish enough to try to run. However, I will not hesitate to have the guards put them on, if you force me to.”

  “How considerate of the swine prince,” Feenix said with mock pleasure. “Remind me to thank him the next time I see him.”

  “A slave does not indulge in sarcasm. Follow me, Teela.”

  For a moment, Feenix almost broke and ran. The panic of being below ground with her movements restricted almost overwhelmed her good sense. By the god’s left toe, how she hated to be at the mercy of another being—especially an enemy.

  “Peace, Feenix,” said Rendolin softly into the turmoil of her mind. “You are not alone. We will do this together, captain. Tell me all that you see while I hold the spell. When this is over and done with, you and I will enjoy a tankard of ale and laugh about how together we fooled our enemy.”

  “You’ll owe me a full hogshead of ale for this, and nothing less, elf!”

  Feenix took a calming breath and fell in behind the head slave. Not to her surprise, the two guards closed ranks behind her.

  The small parade left the room, followed the hand-hewn corridor for about thirty meters, and then entered the caverns of Cragimore. Feenix gaped at the huge expanse of the cave before her, but managed to give Rendolin an accurate description, through the mind link, of all she saw.

  The cavern was full of noise and light. It took Feenix a moment to adjust her eyes to the brightness, after days of practically no light at all. The noise was harder to adjust to. It seemed to be coming from hundreds of voices, as well as machinery and a background roar that could only be the movement of huge amounts of water.

  The air was warm and glistened with minuscule drops of moisture that gave the torch light in the cave an unusual glow. The smell of clean water and moist earth was welcome after the stench of the ever-present glowing fungus in the Prince’s room and the hall.

  The corridor from which they had just emerged had very obviously been hewn from the living rock. It was smooth and comparatively straight. However the huge cavern they had now entered was all natural. Torches blazed and smoked around the area, casting light upon a scene Feenix would never have been able to imagine, even in her dreams.