Part 4

The Ostlacchin raked appraising eyes over his victim, debating with himself what particular pleasure he felt inclined to indulge in today.
       Doyaal moved stiffly, wary of cracked bones and trying not to re-open the gashes on his torso. The arm curled around his ribs, and the left side of his body, were covered with tiny bleeding wounds from his hours on the barbed floor. Holding himself upright with some difficulty, heavy-eyed with exhaustion and pain, he obviously hadn't slept. He looked, Bedemnos thought to himself, perfectly beautiful.
       "So what are we going to do with you today, little slave?"
       Doyaal glared up at the slaver, loathing and rebellion in his eyes. He had not yet uttered a sound, not when the m'taurs had beaten him, not even when Bedemnos had run vicious claws down his back, slicing deeply into his flinching golden flesh, relishing the sight of the hunter's blood. A prize indeed. Breaking him was going to be so much fun...
       But was there a way to increase his enjoyment? He pondered for a moment. That Jaling he'd had picked up, the one destined for the harem of the Branician Overlord... Pretty, but proving recalcitrant, and unfortunately the orders were to provide an unbroken Jaling - his lordship wanted to save that pleasure for himself. But perhaps letting him watch would persuade him to behave. After all, Bedemnos had a reputation to maintain. Delivering a disobedient slave would never do. He gestured to one of his attendant m'taurs...

Doyaal watched with something closely approximating grim amusement as a struggling, swearing creature was brought into the chamber. The Jaling was a fraction of the size of the m'taur trying to carry him, but was nevertheless giving the massive creature a lot of trouble. The m'taur grunted loudly as the sinuous tail lashed across his eyes and a flailing paw caught him in a sensitive spot, and practically threw the smaller being down before Bedemnos.
       Okula scowled up at the slaver, and broke into a stream of the most inventive invective Doyaal, for all his broad experience, had ever heard. It would have been funny if the situation hadn't been so alarming - but the Aethan obviously had no notion of the peril he was in, and that in itself was dangerous. Bedemnos lazily reached down one huge hand, grabbed a handful of luxuriant golden mane and hauled the Jaling upright.
       The princeling screamed and caught the slaver's wrist, sliding long, razor-sharp retractable claws into his skin. Bedemnos bellowed, more surprised than hurt, and flung the Jaling backwards. Instinctively, Doyaal caught him before he could hit the wall, flinching as the smaller body collided painfully with his ribs.
       Okula looked up at the hunter with some surprise and considerable annoyance.
       "Put me down!"
       Doyaal complied, and the two stared at each other for a moment or two. In the flesh, Okula was lithe, long-limbed and supple, a tawny skinned spitfire with lustrous blue eyes and a sensual mouth, currently downturned into a sulky but still attractive pout.
       "Who are you?"
       Before Doyaal could answer, Bedemnos's coolly amused voice boomed out.
       "He's your lesson."
       The Jaling's head whipped round to glare at the slaver.
       "What d'you mean?"
       Bedemnos regarded the Aethan with bemusement.
       "He is here for my pleasure. You will watch how he amuses me, and you will remember. Because if you do not learn compliance, you will take his place."
       Okula glanced uncertainly at Doyaal.
       "What does he mean?"
       Bedemnos laughed. "You really have no idea why you're here, do you?"
       For the first time, the Jaling's air of defiance faltered. He looked around the chamber, finally noticing the chains hanging from the roof and the walls, the dried blood on the floor. He paled.
       "What.... what are you going to do?"
       Bedemnos gestured to the m'taurs, who moved ponderously forward and yanked Doyaal's arms upwards, fastening metal cuffs around his wrists. The hunter bit back a cry as the movement sent a stab of pain through his ribs - but struggling was useless, and only led to more suffering, as he'd discovered over the last five days.
       Bedemnos approached slowly, pacing a slow circuit around the hunter. He nodded to one of the m'taurs, who silently caught Okula's wrists and held him still, ensuring he had a clear view of the action...
       The slaver reached forward leisurely and ran a claw down Doyaal's back, re-opening and deepening one of yesterday's gashes. The hunter jerked away from the contact, his head snapping back, face a silent mask of pain. Okula stared, horrified.
       "Stop it! You're hurting him!"
       Bedemnos glanced at the Aethan. "But of course. That's the whole point." He swung his attention back to Doyaal and moved his hand slightly to one side, raking three new parallel slashes down the golden skin and into the silky pelt, licking his lips as blood welled up and spilled down the hunter's side.
       Doyaal was panting, willing himself not to cry out, eyes tightly shut, forcing himself to disregard the pain as Bedemnos ripped three new gashes down his back. Should he call for help now? While Okula was with him?
       He shuddered as a flabby tongue licked up his torso, forcing the edges of a deep slash apart - then pulled forward sharply as the acid in the slaver's saliva began to burn into his raw flesh. The chains stopped him from moving far, and Bedemnos chuckled. He straddled Doyaal's back and held him still, claws sinking deeply into the hunter's shoulders, and methodically began to lick and gnaw at each wound in turn.
       Over and above the caustic agony of the lacerations striping his torso and the bruising weight of the Ostlacchin on his spine, Doyaal was conscious of something hard and thick and damp rubbing heavily along his back - something that grew steadily larger and heavier as Bedemnos worried at his flesh. The slaver was growling deep in his throat, his weight shifting backwards along the hunter's body, little by little, in a rocking motion. With sudden horror Doyaal realised what was about to happen. Forcing himself not to panic, his tongue pressed hard, twice, against the implant.
       It was several seconds before anything happened, then the cruiser banked sharply, sending Okula and his warder reeling, and dislodging Bedemnos from his captive's back as the hunter was flung sideways, scrabbling for purchase on the tilting floor and bracing himself against his chains. The slaver scrambled furiously to the intercom.
       "What..?"
       "We're under attack!"

Doyaal closed his eyes with a silent, heartfelt sigh as Bedemnos and his attendants bolted from the chamber. He waited until the door clanged shut behind them, then twisted painfully to the Aethan. Okula was sprawled where he'd fallen, shaking his head dazedly.
       "You OK?"
       Okula nodded, a paw rubbing the back of his head where it had impacted with the floor. He stood, unsteadily, and loped to Doyaal's side, frowning up at the cuffs around his wrists.
       "How do these come off?"
       Doyaal stared at him for a moment, startled by his composure but grateful for it.
       "I think..." It came out as a dry rasp. He swallowed and tried again. "Locking mechanism on the top. Needs two hands to remove the pin." He glanced doubtfully at the Aethan's paws. "Think you can manage?"
       "I can try. I'll have to climb up though."
       Doyaal bit his lip as the Jaling slid nimbly onto his back. There was no way Okula could avoid causing pain, and even though he was as careful as possible, the hunter was white and sweating by the time he'd fumbled the first restraining pin from its docking. Doyaal shook his arm, trying to restore circulation, then took a deep breath and reached for the other cuff, pulling out the pin as the Aethan held the metal stationary between his paws. As the cuff came loose the Jaling leapt lightly to the ground and grinned at the 'taur.
       "What's the next step?"
       Rubbing at his wrists, Doyaal nodded to the door. The self-lock had operated as it had closed behind Bedemnos, effectively sealing them inside. The cruiser rocked again, sending the captives staggering. Okula steadied himself with a hand to the hunter's flank, glancing upwards in some alarm.
       "What's happening?"
       "You're being rescued."
       The Aethan stared at him in complete confusion. Doyaal ran his hands around the doorframe, trying to gauge its strength. He sighed and turned his back to the door.
       "Where's Beauday when you need 'im?"
       "What are you..."
       Before he could finish the question, Doyaal had given the obstruction a hearty double-hoofed kick. It shook but didn't give.
       The hunter rested for a moment, holding his arms across his jarred ribs, then tried again. This time there was an encouraging metal-rasping sound. But the exertion was taking its toll. Pain, weakness, lack of any nourishment for the last five days and now the effort of trying to kick down the door made him light-headed and unsteady on his hooves. Okula caught his arm as he staggered.
       "Rest a minute."
       Doyaal shook his head. "No time. We gotta get out of here."
       He took several deep breaths and lashed out again. This time they clearly heard metal tear - but the effort drove Doyaal to his knees, gulping for air. Okula pushed at the door, turning excitedly to the hunter.
       "It's nearly there. One more should do it." He paused, his nose twitching, eyes wide in alarm. "M'taurs."
       "Where?" Gasping, Doyaal staggered upright.
       "Near. Perhaps two corridors away."
       "Move away."
       As the Aethan scurried clear, the 'taur gathered himself for one last strike, desperation giving him the force he needed. The door sheared away from the frame.
       Stumbling, faint, hardly able to see, Doyaal allowed Okula to lead him swiftly along the corridor.

They weren't to know it, but they were heading away from the rescue party.
       And towards Bedemnos...