Enslaved (Brides of the Kindred Book 14) (45 page)

Charlie
nodded her agreement and murmured thanks but she couldn’t help wondering
exactly what they were getting themselves into. And even after risking everything
to sneak down onto Zetta Prime, would they be able to convince Trin to leave
her guilt behind and come with them?

I hope so,
she
thought grimly.
Or we’re going to be
going a hell of a long way for nothing.

*
* * * *

Thrace
stared
in frustration at the star charts displayed on the viewscreen of his little
life pod. The nearest stable wormhole was almost a light year away—not far with
a hydrogen scoop propulsion system like the one on
The Alacrity
or on his own ship,
The Empress
—but over a standard cycle’s travel in the short range
pod. And a cycle was too damn long to wait to get back to Trin. He kept seeing
the cold anger in her mother’s eyes and thinking about the purification ritual
she was so determined to undergo.

Painful and disfiguring…what the hell does
that mean? What are they going to do to her? Damn it, Trin—why did you have to
go and leave me here where I can’t protect you?

His
heart ached with the thought of her being abused or hurt in any way. He wished
he could reach out to her and he had tried to—tried reaching her numerous times
through their bond. But Trin had put up some kind of block against him—one he
couldn’t get through. Or at least, that was what it felt like before she left.
Now he was pretty sure she was out of range. Or maybe she had just found a
better way to block him?

“Who
the hell knows?” Thrace
sighed and ran a hand through his hair. And who could blame her if she was
blocking him? Now that she knew what had happened—what his old Master had done—she
might not want anything to do with him. Maybe that was the real reason she had
chosen to leave him behind.

If
that was true, Thrace
told himself, he would set her free and not bother her any more. After all, he
couldn’t blame her if she felt disgusted now that she knew his past. But before
he could do that—before he could cut ties with her completely—he had to be
certain she was safe.

Which
brought him back to his original problem. In order to know beyond the shadow of
a doubt that Trin was secure and unharmed, he
had
to get to her—but how?

He
supposed he could go back down to Yonnie Six and steal a ship—maybe even take
the one that belonged to Lord X while he was busy dealing with Two. But he
might get caught. It would also take time and it had already been a day and a
night since he cleared orbit around Yonnie Six. Since then he’d been studying
the charts ceaselessly, looking for the fastest way to get to her—and not
finding anything.

“There
has to be a way,” he muttered, scrolling through the star charts again. “There
has
to be!”

“There
is a way,”
a warm, feminine voice said behind him.

“What?
What the hell?” Thrace
jumped and looked all around the confines of the small life pod. “Who said
that? Or am I just hearing things?” He saw no one but he felt something…a
presence that seemed to fill the ship. Or maybe he was just imagining it. Maybe
his stress over Trin was driving him crazy…

“Your
sanity is unimpaired,”
the voice said.
“I am the Goddess you choose not
to believe in.”

“The
Goddess? You mean the Mother of all Life—the one the Kindred worship?”

“The
same.”

“Now
I
know
I’m going crazy!” Thrace
looked around wildly. “Why can’t I see you?”

“A
mortal cannot withstand exposure to my glory,”
the
voice explained.
“Only once was a male strong enough to do so and even then I had to
veil myself so as not to destroy him.”

“All
right, well…what do you want?” Thrace
looked around at the seemingly empty air.

“You
have left something unfinished on the planet below you. A dangerous foe to my
children, of which I count you as one, still lives because you did not finish
him.”

“You
mean Two? I left him poisoned and in mortal agony—which was what he deserved. A
quick, clean death is too good for a bastard like him,” Thrace snarled.

“Nonetheless,
you have left a danger untended and I fear there will be much to pay in the
future for what you have left undone.”

“Is
that
what you came to tell me?” Thrace
demanded. “After everything that’s happened in my life, you show up now just to
let me know I should have killed that bastard, Two after all?”

“No,
that is not the only reason. I know you have not had the easiest life, my son.”
The voice was soft and compassionate.
“You have been tried in the fire
but you have not been found wanting. Despite your past you were willing and
able to give yourself to Trin and to love her.”

“Of
course I love her,” he said roughly. “And I’m bonded to her but she’s blocking
me. I can’t feel her anywhere. All I know is she’s gone home to undergo some
kind of barbaric cleansing ritual.”

“It
is a trial that will test Trin’s soul in the same way your first time as a
slave tested yours,”
the Goddess assured him.

Thrace
felt a
surge of panic.

“What
are you saying? What are they doing to her? I
have
to get to her!”

“And
you shall.
But when you see Trin again, she will not
be the same female who left you.”

“What
does that mean? Please, Goddess…” Thrace looked around. “I…I can’t
stand the idea of her being hurt.”

“Some
pain is necessary to help her see the way,”
the
voice said softly.
“But you will be able to heal her—providing she comes to you.”

“What
do you mean,
providing
she comes?” Thrace
demanded. “You’re the Goddess—can’t you tell if she’ll be willing to come to me
or not?”

“There
are many different futures, my son. I can only point my children in the right
path and hope that they take it.”

“Well,
I’m willing to try—willing to do anything to get her back,” Thrace said,
exasperated. “But how in the Seven Hells am I going to get to her?”

“A
way will be provided. You need only take it.”

“A
way? What way?” He looked around but the voice and the presence which had
filled the air around him was suddenly gone.
What the hell?
Thrace
rubbed his forehead. Had he imagined the whole thing? Was his stress over Trin
getting the better of him—giving him hallucinations? But no, the presence of
the Goddess had been so real…

Just
then the hailing frequency sounded from his viewscreen.

“What
the hell?” he muttered again. Flipping on the screen to take the call, he was
confronted with a blonde haired female and a male with long, dark red hair who
looked Kindred.

“Thrace S’ver?”
the male said, addressing him. “Greetings, brother. You don’t know us but we
know you. And we’re here to help.”

Chapter
Thirty-three

“Please,
no more,” Trin whispered through dry lips. “Please, High Priestess, I feel so
weak.”

“You
are
weak or you would not have allowed
a male to penetrate you.” Betina, the high priestess gave her a disgusted look
from under the elaborate headdress she wore. It was jet black, like her long
robes, and encrusted with rubies the size of Trin’s thumb.

Trin
wondered listlessly if her mother’s money had helped pay for the elaborate head
gear. If so, she had made a sizable investment into one of the ugliest articles
of clothing Trin had ever seen. It had stiff folds on either side and was peaked
in front, coming to a point like a bird’s beak which cast the priestess’s
sallow, narrow features into shadow. Her beady eyes glinted from the darkness,
raking Trin with a judgmental stare that made her feel naked.

As
a matter of fact, she
was
naked—abject
humiliation was part of the ritual she was undergoing in an attempt to cleanse
herself from the male influences she had allowed to enter her body. But being
naked wasn’t nearly the worst part of the experience so far. Not
nearly.

Trin
passed a hand over her eyes, trying not to remember…wishing she could forget…

Her
mother had been waiting to meet her at the front door of their domicile when
she came home to Zetta Prime. She hadn’t even allowed Trin to enter the house
for fear she would contaminate it. Instead, she had taken her straight to the Temple of the Goddess of
Judgment, a vast, gray building with tall, imposing walls and numerous hooded
priestesses roaming its echoing halls in bare feet.

The
high priestess, Betina, had taken one look at Trin and dragged her to the inner
sanctum of the main worship hall to stand before the huge, frowning statue of
the Goddess of Judgment.

“Strip
her!” the high priestess had ordered and two gray robed priestesses had
complied, tearing Trin’s clothing from her body and leaving her standing there
naked and shivering in the echoing chamber.

“Oh
Goddess of Judgment,” Betina intoned, looking up at the tall, frowning statue.
“One stands before you who has been Defiled. She has allowed a male to enter
her and in so doing she has become unclean.” She pointed a finger at Trin.
“Admit your sin!”

“I…”
Trin’s voice had come out as a croak. “I…forgive me, Goddess—I have sinned. I
have…allowed a male to…to penetrate me.” She took a gulping breath. “And…I
enjoyed it. I…I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me.”

“She
enjoyed
it!” Betina sucked in her
breath in horror.

“I…could
not help it,” Trin mumbled. “I could not…could not stop the pleasure I felt
when…when he was with me.” She looked up at the statue which seemed to scowl at
her in anger. “Which is why I ask for forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness
cannot be had simply for the asking.” Betina’s beady black eyes narrowed. “It
must be
earned
with sacrifice. Only
through pain and mortification of your body and spirit can purification be
achieved.”

“I
understand,” Trin said humbly. “I will do whatever is necessary.”

“Prove
it.” The priestess pulled something long and silver out of her flowing robes
and handed it to Trin.

Trin
looked down at the pair of heavy, blunt sheers that lay in her palm and then
back up again at the priestess.

“What—?”

“Cut
it off.” Betina motioned to her hair. “Cut it off as a sign of your humility
and your devotion to the Goddess.”

“All…all
right.” Trin had always considered her hair one of her best features but she
lifted the heavy sheers without hesitation and began to cut. She couldn’t see
what she was doing so she knew she must be making a mess of it. But that didn’t
matter now—all that mattered was making up for what she had done.

I deserve it,
she told
herself as long strands of her thick black hair drifted down around her bare
feet.
I have to pay for what I did and
this is the only way.

Her
head felt lighter and the cool breeze sweeping through the echoing worship
chamber chilled the back of her neck when she was finished and handed the sheers
back. She hoped that standing naked before the Goddess and cutting her hair
might be all she had to do, but she was wrong.

The
ritual was just getting started.

After
her hair was cut, Betina brought out a stone chalice, so large and heavy she
had to hold with both hands. Strange markings were carved around the outside
and the inside of it was stained an ominous reddish-brown.

“What…what
is that for?” Trin had asked hesitantly.

“Now
you must bleed for your sins,” the priestess told her. “Bleed the evil from
your body and give your blood to show your remorse.” She withdrew a long,
curving ceremonial dagger with a jeweled handle and pressed it to the inside of
Trin’s elbow.

Trin
stifled a gasp as the blade bit deep and watched as her blood overflowed and poured
in ruby rivulets down her arm and into the stone goblet. After a while, she
began to get dizzy and wondered how much blood she had to give to atone for her
sins. She felt weak and shaky when the deep cup was finally filled and one of
the lesser priestesses bandaged her arm.

But
she still wasn’t done.

“Bring
me the
hrakka,”
Betina demanded. One
of the other priestesses disappeared for a moment. When she returned, she held
a long handled instrument with four sharp, parallel claws curving from its end.

“What…what
are you going to do with that?” Trin asked, eyeing the needle sharp claws in
dismay.

“As
you have allowed defilement and impurity to enter into you, so you must be
marked on the outside to show your evil,” the priestess intoned. As Trin tried
not to flinch, she dragged the sharp claws down her arms and legs, over the
tops of her breasts, her belly and buttocks—even her cheeks—scoring and
scratching every inch of Trin’s body with long, bloody welts that stung and
ached fiercely.

Trin
tried not to cry out but the pain was intense. She shifted uneasily and the
priestess slapped her hard across the cheek.

“Hold
still!”

“I’m
trying,” Trin whispered through gritted teeth. “The pain…”

“The
hrakka’s
claws are treated with an
acidic agent to increase pain and suffering.” She gave Trin a cruel smile. “They
will leave
permanent
marks so that
all who see you will know what you have done.”

“What?”
Trin looked at her wildly. “But my mother said, she told me that only you and
she would know what…what I did!”

“That
was before you admitted to
enjoying
your defilement,” the priestess snarled. “Such disgusting sin cannot go
unpunished. Now everyone who looks at you will know that you allowed yourself
to be defiled by a male. The marks of the
hrakka
will tell them!”

Trin
wanted to cry but she refused, raising her chin instead. Maybe the priestess
was right—maybe she
did
deserve to
have everyone know what she had done—to be marked permanently for her sins and
her shame. And yet…had it really been so bad? She couldn’t help remembering the
feel of Thrace’s
strong arms around her, the way he had whispered her name and said that he
loved her. They hadn’t been hurting anyone—was what they had done really so awful?

I committed sacrilege against the Goddess,
she
reminded herself sternly.
I have to pay
the price.

But
even so, the next step of the ritual was almost more than she could bear.

Betina
led her out of the back of the temple, into the gardens—a vast space covered in
withered purple grass and surrounded on all sides by high, gray walls.

There,
stamping and snorting, were two familiar figures. Trin’s heart sank as she saw
one of the lesser priestesses holding the bridles of her beloved pets, Swift
and Silk. When they saw her, they tossed their heads and Swift let out a ringing
neigh. He pulled free of the priestess holding him and cantered over to Trin.

“Oh,
Swift…” Trin put her arms around his neck and pressed her face to his warm
hide, drawing comfort from him as she had so often growing up. “Oh my good
boy…” He snorted and nuzzled her hair, as if to ask what was wrong and Trin
pressed close to him, breathing in the warm scent of horse hair and sweet hay
and wishing with all her might that they were all back in her home pasture
without a care in the world.

“That’s
enough of your sickening display,” Betina snapped. She motioned at the lesser
priestess. “You—come and pull this one back to stand by the other.”

Swift
didn’t want to go but Trin patted and stroked him and spoke in a low, soothing
voice, telling him to go back, that everything would be all right. But she was
horribly afraid she was lying.

“Why
have you brought my pets?” she asked in a low voice as Swift was led back to
stand by Silk. Her stomach was twisted into knots and part of her already knew
the answer.

“To
show how sorry you are, you must sacrifice something you love,” the high
priestess said coldly. “If the male who defiled you was here, we would demand
you sacrifice his pain to the Goddess. As it is, the death of these two alien
creatures will have to do.”

“They’re
horses
from Earth and I’ve had them
since I was twelve cycles old,” Trin protested. “I raised them from foals. They’re
old but still healthy—you can’t kill them—you
can’t.”

“Why,
because you
love
them?” Betina
sneered at her. “If only you’d loved your purity as much they might have been
spared. But I am afraid they must be given to the Goddess as a sign of your
contrition.” She shoved a dagger into Trin’s hand—the same one she’d used to slice
her arm for the blood sacrifice earlier. “Now do it—cut their throats!”

“No.”
Trin shook her head violently and backed away, letting the dagger drop from
nerveless fingers. “No, you can’t make me! I can’t…I
won’t.”

Betina
shook her head, the rubies in her black headdress winking like drops of blood
in the pale sunlight.

“Weak
and foolish female! Very well then, I will.”

Before
Trin could stop her, she pulled a small but lethal heat-beam from the folds of
her cloak and aimed it right between Silk’s eyes.

“No!”
Trin jumped to stop her but she was suddenly surrounded by the lesser
priestesses, all wearing their hooded gray robes. There was a
zzap
sound and a beam of concentrated
heat and light pierced the mare’s skull, cooking her brain instantly. Silk staggered
and threw up her head with a sound that was more scream than neigh…then she stumbled
and slowly fell to her knees. Her warm brown eyes were suddenly lifeless as they
rolled up in her head and she collapsed onto her side,

“Silk!
No!” Trin broke free and ran to her but there was nothing she could do. Silk’s
eyes were already glazing and there was a neat black hole burned just below the
forelock Trin had loved to stroke.

The
mare she had raised from a tiny foal was gone and the high priestess was standing
over her with a malicious grin on her face.

“She
should have died by the knife,” Betina said dispassionately as Trin wept into
the dead horse’s mane. “Your punishment will be the worse because you were
unable to do your duty.” Then she raised the weapon again and pointed it at
Swift who was pawing the ground uneasily.

“No—
no!
Not Swift too!”
Trin jumped up and tried to stop her—tried to grab her arm and
push the blaster up and away. But before she could get to the priestess, there
was another flat, lethal sounding
zzap
and
Swift, too, gave a piercing neigh and fell to the ground. His big brown eyes
rolled up at Trin as if to ask,
Why did
you do this to me?
And then he collapsed and was silent.

Trin
fell in a heap, weeping in the dirt of the temple garden. How often had she
sought refuge and comfort from her pets? How often had she come home to see
them cantering across the field to her, eager for her touch and the sound of
her voice? When her mother was angry with her or disappointed at something she
had done wrong, they were always there, Swift and Silk, waiting to comfort her
and give her their unconditional love and affection. And now, in the space of a
few heartbeats, they were gone—sacrificed to pay for her sins.

Me—they were killed because of me. It’s my
fault…all my fault…The Goddess hates me…I don’t blame her—I hate myself!

Her
shoulders shook and the sobs tore from her throat. Trin wished it was
she
who lay there dead in the withered
grass. After all—she was the one who deserved death. Not the gentle, sweet pets
she had raised from foals. Not the creatures she had loved from childhood.

The
temple garden was an enclosed space, shut away from the rest of the world by its
high, gray walls. As Trin lay there weeping by the bodies of her mare and
stallion, she had never felt more trapped or more hopeless in her life.