By Dear Darling
Merry flames danced in the monstrous fireplace, casting patterns of light over the sparsely decorated walls and the faces of those who inhabited the room. The soft clink of dishes joined the gentle melody of the bangles worn by the pleasure slave dancing in a splash of sand in the corner of the room.
Two men spoke quietly while seated on cushions at a low table, laden with savory meats, stewed suls, rich bosk cheese, steamed vegetables, Turian wine and Bazi tea, barely noticing the gyrations of the dancing girl or the quick and sure movements of the girls who served them.
The fair haired man enthusiastically bit into a plump leg of vulo, then used the bone to gesture towards the other man. His other arm twined around the dark haired slave kneeling beside him in the position of a pleasure slave, pulling her closer until she was almost draped over his lap, smiling down at her with a quick wink before he turned his attention back to the warrior seated across from him.
“Yes, but I would not put it past Trevor of Kargash to come after the sacred dagger. He can be quite ruthless when he wants something, and he has always wanted this dagger, for some unknown reason,” he said, nodding with approval as he noted that the warrior bypassed the sweet Turian wine to drink Bazi tea instead.
“Perhaps you are right, Samuel. For that reason, our guards are on high alert against any attack,” said the dark haired man, a thin scar creasing his cheek from his lip to the outer edge of his eye. He sipped his tea before speaking with thoughtful deliberation, “I wish our spies had returned with information about the dagger, and why Trevor is so intent on having it.”
Samuel nodded absently, looking down as firelight glinted on the moisture coating the tips of his fingers, then waggling them in front of his slave’s pretty face. She flashed him a grin, enjoying the sensual game they played so often, as her slender digits gently curled around his thick wrist to draw his hand to her softly parted lips.
The lushly curved slave wrapped her lips around his index finger, sapphire eyes impish as she met his gaze, sucking the tasty vulo juice from his skin before moving on to the next finger. When she finished, she sat back on her heels, eyes lowered with pretended demureness while her rose colored lips retained a cheeky grin.
He held his hands up to inspect them in the dim light provided by the fire, then gave a great shout of laughter before clutching a handful of raven hair to bring her lips to his in a hard kiss. “Go prepare my furs, Kellah,” he muttered in a voice thick with desire. “I’ll be there shortly.”
She inhaled sharply, flushing with excitement, tossing a “Yes, my Master!” over her creamy shoulder as she nearly ran from the room, her hips swaying enticingly under the brevity of the Turian camisk she wore, long hair barely skimming her exposed back as she hurried away.
The warrior looked at Samuel with a chuckle, saying, “It’s good to see a slave so eager to attend to her chores.” They shared a laugh before the other man sobered and spoke again. “I should be on my way. It’s almost time for my watch. Thank you for the meal, my friend.”
Samuel smiled warmly at the man who was his longtime friend, a thousand happy memories of their childhood together reflected in his mahogany eyes. “You know you are always welcome in my house, Javid.”
The men clasped each other in the briefest of hugs before the battle worn warrior turned away, his footsteps fading into oblivion as Samuel once more sank down to sit on the cushion, becoming lost in thought as he stared down into his tea. He did not notice the kitchen slaves who came and went, clearing away the half filled dishes, remnants of a feast. He did not notice as the flames began to die down until only the coals lit the room.
Only when the sound of high pitched, half crazed giggling and the scamper of bare feet reached his ears did he look up from his musings. His eyebrows flew up in surprise as he took note of the figure in the doorway. He stood, large hands on his hips, as he surveyed the child sized figure with the twisted face. “Who are you?” he demanded.
The child only giggled again and, in the blink of an eye, was gone from the doorway. The man cursed and started after the hideous creature, jogging in order to keep up. He pushed through a gate, one of the nine gates of Turia, to find himself in a desolate courtyard. He saw no sign of the being he had been following, only a gate that was ajar. He swung it further open and went through, then entered a corridor. He strode down between narrow walls, ears straining for any sound from the child.
His pace increased when he heard a faint giggle, turning down one narrow hallway after another until he found himself in a round room, the child before him and seemingly trapped. “Who are you, and what are you doing running through the city in this manner?” he asked between pants of breath.
He growled and started forward as the creature smiled mysteriously, then melted into the shadows. He stopped short, mouth falling open in shock as a man stepped into the light in the center of the room.
“You! What are YOU doing here, Harl?” he snarled, hand quickly clutching the hilt of his sword.
The other man tossed his head back with a deep, rumbling laugh, pushing mousy brown locks of hair out of his face as he spoke, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He held both arms to his sides, palms up and gesturing slightly behind him.
Silently, a crowd of men stepped forward out of the shadows, encircling Samuel. He spun around, snarling as he turned back to the small man, drawing his sword to jab the tip towards his heart. “Tell them to back off. NOW!” he thundered, cords working angrily in his throat.
Harl smiled thinly, looking down his long nose at Samuel, a sneer tugging his thin lips even thinner before he suddenly stepped back to draw his own sword, swinging it in a fierce arc to knock Samuel’s sword away.
Samuel shouted, blond strands falling forward into his eyes as he braced his feet, and swung his sword to the right, cutting through the air to meet Harl’s weapon in a clatter of metal, the sound joining with his joyous shout as they battled. They both stepped back to circle around, eyeing each other warily before again engaging in combat.
His eyes widened as he suddenly staggered back and fell to the ground in a heap of male flesh. The man standing behind him stepped back, sheathing the sword. “The hilt of a sword can sometimes be as effective as its blade,” the man smirked. Harl threw his head back to laugh before placing a booted foot on the back of his opponent, humor in his voice as he spoke, “Sorry to cut this short, old friend, but we have places to go.” Nodding to his men, he issued several short commands before striding away.
Kellah hummed softly as she sat in front of a cracked mirror, brushing the ebony strands of hair over her porcelain shoulders. She lightly pinched her cheeks to add color, and then rubbed the soft petals of talender behind her ears, tucking a single bloom into her hair. She studied herself in the mirror before blowing her reflection a kiss and strolling into the next room, double checking to make sure everything was as her Master preferred.
Her softly sung words ascended into a scream as a heavy axe crashed through the door of the chamber, and a man stepped in over the splinters. He looked her over as she began to back away, grabbing her by the hair, cruelly twisting his hand in the softness of her locks. Tears welled in her blue eyes as he snapped a leash on her collar without speaking. He turned to pass the end of the leash to the man behind him, gave a subtle nod, and left the room.
The strange man holding her leash gave her a toothless leer before spinning to depart from her Master’s chambers, dragging her behind him. He led her down one corridor after another until they came to a courtyard. She screamed shrilly, rushing forward as she spied the shape of her Master motionless on the ground. Her eyes bulged, and she gagged at pressure of the collar against her throat as she reached the length of the leash and was yanked back. Fat tears filled her eyes, making her eyesight watery, before they spilled over to drip from spiky lashes.
She stumbled after the man, her head turned to look over her shoulder as her eyes strained to see if her Master moved. Even when the man snapped her leash to the side of a saddled tharlarion, she still kept her eyes locked to the place where she last saw the seemingly lifeless shape of her love Master.
It was only when the man mounted the beast and began to drag her behind that she noticed the other leashed slaves and smelled the acrid smoke from the burning city. Her feet slid through the cooling granules of sand as she was pulled along. She sobbed violently, eyes turning once more to the city that was growing smaller and smaller with each reluctant step, each footfall taking her further and further away from him and closer to that which was mysterious and unknown.
