Tylywoch ~ 27

 Tylywoch ~ 27 Captives III 

By Len Morgan

   When Vadeem entered the cell, it was dark cold silent, and empty.   "Galyx, It's me Vadeem," there was no answer.   He took a lamp from outside into the cell "Bengora's Blood!" he swore angrily, the cell was most definitely empty. He went out into the passage.   "Call for additional men, he's gone, we will have to search the entire area."

"How could that have happened do you suppose?" the Surbatt corporal smirked.

Vadeem hit him full in the face, and he fell to the floor in a semi-conscious state.

"I gave you an order Corporal, jump to it!"

He staggered to his feet yelling "You heard the captain, call for reinforcements, Now!" The two soldiers headed for the stairs at the double, the corporal six strides behind them.   Stealth quad took them out on the second flight but they never knew.   The corporal died seconds later, none the wiser. 

For the second time in forty-eight hours, Vadeem found himself a captive of the Tylywoch.

"This is getting to be a habit," he muttered through clenched teeth.

"The tables are turned," said Galyx appearing from nowhere. Vadeem was manhandled into the cell and the door slammed shut.

"Hey your not leaving me here are you?" Vadeem shouted at Galyx's retreating back. 

"Not afraid of the dark are you" Galyx taunted.

"Glamhorten is looking for you." He answered ignoring the jibe.

"How would you know that?"

"She sent me to get you."

"She owns you?"

He nodded "No!   aaagh  fee-oow!"

"Take me to her."

"Not a good idea aaagh!" said Vadeem in obvious distress "bitch!  "She will turn you if you go to her aaah! ah ah aaah.   She's p-un-nishing me f tell-ing…  ya ah aaah!!!"

"Save your breath and your strength friend, I know what she is capable of.   Just take me to her."

"You wittard!   I'm trying to save you!" he shook his head and left the cell, followed by Galyx. 

.-…-. 

"They're outside," said Galt "He has a dozen guards with him."

"Open up merchant!" an authoritarian voice yelled. banging hard on the door.

"Whoever is out there, go away and return in the morning during normal hours of business, between 7 & 7."

"Open or we will break the door down!   We are Guardians of the Empire, from the palace, on official business."

"Please do not start breaking things or you'll answer to my wife!   That door is ironwood from the Northern Mayam provinces, it would cost a fortune to replace it!   Have a modicum of patience I'm on my way."    The door was unbarred and a sleepy Galt peered out at the late callers, dressed in a long nightgown.   "How can I be of service to the Empress?" he inquired.

 

"You have an assistant…"

 

"Yes, Weilla, excellent worker strong, conscientious, honest, and cheap…"

"We do not require a character reference thank you," said Wilden "where is she?"

""She’s abed and asleep where every honest hardworking soul should be…"

"Take me to her," he demanded.   Four stayed at the door, the remainder followed Wilden inside.   "You four come with me, the rest of you search this place, you know what to look for."

Galt led them down to the cellar,

"There she is," said Wilden "Take her!" 

.-…-. 

She was dozing, when the dream recurred.   As always it was her mother's face, clear and detailed, yet on waking she could not even recall the colour of her eyes. 

The voice gave warning, "Beware the thirteenth warrior 'kebu master' for therein lies your demise." 

She awoke perspiring and distraught, tired, not refreshed by her slumbers.   She was frustrated by her inability to decipher the dream, was it a symbolic message or a warning from beyond the grave… 

Taleen stirred beside her, conscious of the agitating ripples in her mind; so finely was he attuned to her.  She threw back the bed coverers and admired his naked young body.   Fit healthy bronze and hard, he'd been hers since birth, ever since she'd poisoned his mother, shortly after cutting his cord.   She dove into his mind and turned him onto his back.   She smiled on witnessing his stirring; he always did that even as a child, he became hard whenever she entered his mind.   He slept on untroubled by her presence

as she roamed his mind, the busy routes and byways so familiar to her, like a well-thumbed map.   She smiled as she arrived at the twin houses of pain & pleasure.   She entered and he responded predictably - they always slept naked in the Blutt fashion - he rolled towards her his mouth and tongue lapping the perspiration from her neck and breasts as she desired.   She enjoyed physical pleasures with all her slaves, but most of all Taleen, he'd been her intimate since his early years, they were so close that she could experience the pleasures of sex in his mind, from the masculine perspective, and concurrently from her own feminine side.   She liked that, an instance of complete control, she looked down at him lapping between her loins, controlling and guiding his unconscious actions, he did her bidding at the speed of thought, as superior to the common carnal act, as a luxury fruit cocktail confection is, to plain oatmeal.

She lay still, closing her eyes, enjoying… 

She sensed the servant's approach and eased Taleen gently back to his side of the giant-sized circular bed.   There was a gentle knock.

"Wait!   I'm coming out!"    She spoke directly to the servant's mind, but it would seem to him as though she had called to him through the door.   She quickly skimmed his mind and discovered that Vadeem and the guards had returned with Galyx.

 

Jumping from her bed she donned a sheer full-length black silk kimono.   Taleen stirred, so she sent him soothing messages and he settled back to sleep.  She padded barefoot, to answer the door.   The servant delivered his message nervously and left.   She approached the adjoining room, scanning its occupants as a matter of routine.   Something was wrong.   Vadeem was agitated.   She didn't recognise any of the guards, or Galyx, whose mind appeared barren, blank, and unfathomable.   She didn't like that.   She was aware that Vadeem had been talking about her, probably to Galyx, but she didn't know what he’d said.   The guards minds were trained and disciplined, but they couldn't shield against her, so instead they all projected thoughts of happiness and well being, but the discipline told her, they were Tylywoch! 

"Where in Bedelocq's name was Wilden he should be back by now!" casting her mind around the city in ever-increasing circles she was unable to locate him, was he dead?

She cast her mind wide, "All slaves, To me - NOW!"

"She's calling for help, she knows something is amiss, she knows your TylywaaaaaaagH!"  He fell in a heap as if poleaxed.  

Glamhorten used the distraction to make her entrance.   "Galyx" she said in a husky distinctive voice, a welcoming smile on her face, "I have been so looking forward to meeting you.   Am I to fear you?"

 

"That could have been a very costly error of judgment on your part," he said nodding towards the unconscious Vadeem.

She turned to face him, eyes blazing with flecks of orange and yellow playing across the orbs.   "Come here!" she commanded.

Galyx was taken aback by the power of her word and stepped towards her.   One step led to another, each successively harder to resist, but his mind remained impassive and blank.  

.-…-. 

Wilden awoke in complete darkness, the only sound he was conscious of was his own breathing.   At first, he thought he'd been blinded by Glamhorten in a fit of pique for some real or imagined transgression on his part but, he was able to move his eyes without pain, it felt different.   There were ghostly shadows of grey passing before his retina, if he squeezed his eyes tight shut he could see flashes sparks and patterns of light. "Thank Bedelacq," he said and therein realised his hearing was intact, the lesser of his fears.   He tried moving his arms, they were bound at the wrist, as were his ankles, on moving he realised he was cold, he was naked and cold.   He fought manfully to loose his bonds, he struggled until they were badly chafed without success, they wouldn't yield.

He listened again for an age but heard nothing.   He shouted and yelled at the top of his lungs a lot of the sound was absorbed, but what came back was deflected from close by.   He was in a small room or a crate, but the absence of outside influence…   Then suddenly it came to him in a rush of panic, it was a coffin!   He had been buried alive!

There had been a dozen guards accompanying him when he entered the premises.   He recalled following four of them into the cellar to apprehend the girl, then the lights went out.  

"Guards!    To me now!" he'd yelled up the cellar stair well.   He'd heard the rush of approaching feet.   "In here" he yelled.   They had rushed down the stairs in answer to his call, then silence.   There are twelve of them, he'd thought before the world went black and he lost consciousness.    He again tried to loosen his bonds, without success.   He called out again then tried mind contact with Glamhorten or anybody but, if he was more than a few feet below ground it severely restricted the range over which he could communicate.   His mind slipped back to his period of training when she had punished minor infractions by locking him inside a wooden trunk, for hours until she judged from his mind that he'd learned his lesson and displayed sincere contrition.    But, he always knew she would free him eventually, now nothing was guaranteed.   He redoubled his effort to escape, soaking the ropes in his own urine in the hope it would soften, stretch or loosen his bonds.   He didn't want to die like this!   He didn't want to die slowly fighting for every breath…

He slept and woke alternately, not knowing if he slept for minutes or days.   At odd times he lapsed and found himself at the mercy of his own mind, and being unable to escape, was near to panic and likely to go completely mad.   Instead, he became calm and resigned to his fate.   He was going to die, that was inevitable, be it now or in fifty years.   He examined himself critically, physically, mentally, emotionally, and in retrospect.   Surprisingly his mind and his conscience were clear.   He awaited comment from his constant companion the guiding voice that had been with him since that first night in Blutt central, it was absent.   His mind flew back thirty years.   That first night he had slept on his stomach, naked on a thin blanket in a wicker basket, it had seemed a luxury.  He was warm and dry and the bedding was soft and resilient.   For the first time in months, he’d slept without constant fear of attack in the night from one of his own, or from the seekers.   He slept soundly and well.

.-…-. 

He awoke instantly alert and ready, as the older boy approached him in the early hours to begin his training.   He didn't move, instead, he waited for the second timid tap on his shoulder before sitting up.

"It's time."

Wilden rose from the pallet, as the boy scurried behind him, talking all the while as you would to a highly strung horse.   He gently rubbed something onto the dry blood-encrusted welts on Wilden’s back.

"Salt helps wounds to heal without scarring, mistress doesn't like scars." He explained, wiping off the extraneous crystals with a soft cloth.   He then applied a soothing balm, massaging it into the wounds.   "This will make your skin supple, so the wounds do not burst open when you stretch suddenly.   Don't make any sudden moves over the next few days." He warned.   "Your duties are simply to see to her needs.   You will go to the market each morning to obtain fresh produce.   We need vegetables milk herbs and meat; she is particularly partial to fresh bloody meat.   She likes her steaks rare, seared on the outside, and warm on the inside.   Vegetables must be cooked but crisp and herbs are used for tisanes and teas.   We will have to fight to get the best produce; the strongest always take the best, whilst the rest of us get the pick of what is left.   Come on!"

Wilden followed him to the market and was surprised to note that all the boys hurried to queue for meat.   So, he went to get their vegetables and was pleased to see he had a wide choice.    He walked in and took the best that was available, and more than he needed.

"If we have to cook for her, who cooks for us?" he asked.

The boy looked at him as if he was stupid.

"What is your name?" he asked the older boy as he demonstrated the finer points of boning a joint of meat.

"Slave," he said, “I am Slave!”

"My name is Wilden…" he began offering his hand.

"It's better not to get close to people" the boy explained ignoring the proffered hand. 

"Why?" he asked.

"People come and people go." Was the cryptic reply.

Two weeks later, another boy was serving, 'Slave' was gone.   Wilden never saw him again. 

"Slave!   Where is my food." She called.

He ran to pander to her needs, then, and from that day on…

(to be continued)

 

Copyright Len Morgan