Training the Warrior (19 page)

Two hours later, the cross bar at the top
of the cell showed signs of cracking. The chains dug hard into the metal. Attor
continued to struggle. His forearms were drenched with blood. Shifting, but
still trapped within the ulna bones, the outer edges of his blades sawed
through the tissue covering his sheaths. Sweat and blood trickled down his
sides, soaking the sarong wrapped around his hips. His roars of pain
accompanied each one of his mighty tugs. He breathed hard, as if tiring from
his efforts.

Once he pressed his sweat-soaked forehead
against one of the cell bars to rest for a moment, Taelor growled at him. “Finish
this or I will!”

Pale tan-colored eyes opened to glare back
at him with murderous fury. Attor’s roar of pure rage was frightful, even to a
seasoned warrior. Both Taelor and Jarrok backed off a couple steps while
keeping a tight hold on the chains. Attor lurched away from the bars, throwing
all his weight against the chains. Pulling and roaring in a mad fury, he lifted
one leg and pressed the bottom of his foot against one of the bars, increasing
the power of his leverage. The smell of blood flooded Taelor’s senses along
with the noise of metal groaning.

At first, Taelor thought the loud cracking
sound he heard was from the metal bars giving way, but the dreadful howling
roar coming from Attor ended his concern. His giant nephew hung helpless,
dangling from the chains. Bone-white blades, similar to his own, protruded from
Attor’s forearms. They were larger than most and had the telltale royal
re-curve. Blood covered the floor as well as him and Jarrok. At least the
sarong hanging from Attor’s hips had shielded them from his first ejaculation.

While Jarrok loosened the chains, Taelor
bolted into the cell to ease his nephew to the floor. “Well done, Young Attor.
Welcome, brother,” he greeted the new warrior. Attor grumbled out a few words,
then moaned before he lost consciousness.

“Did he just tell you to eat shit and die?”

“He did.” Apparently, Attor had an enormous
amount of the royal attitude. Taelor scowled at his partner.

A wolfish grin spread across Jarrok’s blood-splattered
face as he declared, “I’m starting to like this one.”

Refusing to engage his partner in a battle
of insults, Taelor snarled, “Go tell the security officer to notify my sister.
We’ll need the female, Allya, as soon as possible.”

He grabbed one of Attor’s wrists, careful
to avoid the sharp blade, and pressed down firmly against a stiff tendon on the
outside edge of the warrior’s hand. The blade snapped back in place, safe
within its sheath. Taelor did the same for Attor’s other arm blade. He had to
admit, at least to himself, he started to like the young warrior too. He hoped
he wouldn’t have to kill him.

Since there was no way to shackle the newly-bladed
warrior inside any of the cells, they stretched Attor out on the floor in the
middle of the cell block at the end of the hall. Taelor cuffed his wrists and
looped a chain between the two cuffs to stretch Attor’s arms above his head. He
bolted the ends to the cell bars on one side of the corridor. Jarrok copied
him, securing Attor’s ankles to the opposite cell. A thin mattress was the only
barrier between Attor’s naked back and the metal floor.

Taelor went to his own cell and retrieved a
dagger from his small pile of weapons. He hurried back to his nephew. He
kneeled on one knee, grabbed the thin waistband of Attor’s sarong and sliced
through the material, removing the soiled garment. The smell of blood and male
sex permeated the entire area.

“The handlers don’t get enough credit for
what they do,” he muttered, trying to hold his breath.

“Agreed.” Jarrok’s voice was muffled.

A third voice, male, interrupted them. “The
female you requested is waiting outside, Dharjen Taelor.”

Taelor glanced back at the security
officer. The Tauran male gaped in horror at the sight before him. The poor spacer
had been on duty the entire time Attor suffered through the blading. Seeing the
result was too much for him, apparently. Two blood-splattered warriors standing
over another one, who was naked and covered from head to toe in sweat and blood,
they weren’t a pretty sight.

“Leave the brig. On your way out, send the
female inside.”

The man rushed back to the control station
in a great hurry to obey Taelor’s orders.

Attor growled once more. The tone had
changed. Now he wasn’t growling in pain. The rage took hold of him, faster than
they’d anticipated.

Taelor swept his gaze over the young warrior.
He felt a pang of guilt. They hadn’t thought about trying to clean some of the
grime off of Attor’s body. The female wasn’t going to be impressed.

Attor let out a roar of pure fury. He was
waking up in every way.

“Where is that—”

“I’m Allya,” a female voice interrupted
Jarrok’s question.

Startled, they both jerked around to face
her. She’d approached so quietly Taelor hadn’t heard or smelled her. In his
defense, he’d been distracted. Instinctively, Taelor’s nostrils flared, trying
to scent her. His partner did the same. They couldn’t control the reaction. It
was natural for all unmated warriors.

She ignored them while trying to peek
around their bodies to catch a glimpse of Attor. Taelor shifted away from
Jarrok and motioned for her to come closer. As she eased nearer, her eyes
widened in surprise and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. He heard a small
gasp.

“It’s Attor. But…” She continued to stare
at the male who obviously didn’t resemble the young warrior she’d known before.

“I apologize for his condition,” Taelor
said. “The handlers at Fortress are more skilled. We have water and blankets if
you wish to…”

Allya seemed to recover from her shock,
saying, “I’ve read the instructions many times. Thank you, Dharjen Taelor. I’ll
try to help him.” She stood straighter, almost in a perfect imitation of his
sister, and said, “Please allow me to have privacy with Young Attor.”

“With pleasure,” Jarrok blurted and headed
down the cell block toward the control room.

Taelor gave the female a polite nod and
followed his partner as fast as he could without running. He had no desire to
oversee the next part of Attor’s ordeal. Allya had the young warrior’s life in
her hands quite literally.

He caught up with Jarrok at the control
station. “Go find a hydro-shower and clean up. Hurry! I’ll stand watch until
you get back.”

Jarrok swiped a hand over his blood-splattered
chest and loin cloth. His boots were also speckled with Attor’s blood. “Hope
this ship has a chem-cleaner,” he said as he walked out the door.

Taelor ran his hands through his hair,
smearing the blood that had fallen on top his head more evenly into his long
mane.
Gacking mess.
And like Jarrok, his clothes needed a good
chem-cleaning too. At the most, warriors took a couple clean loincloths with
them on missions. They threw the dirty ones away if they were soiled with blood,
which was usually the case. There was always a ready supply of substitute
clothing for them on spaceships. If not, it was easy to scare the pants off
Tauran spacers and most Tauran soldiers. In fact, it was great fun. Under
different circumstances, he and Jarrok would be tormenting as many spacers as
they could on the
Avenger
right now. A ferocious growl coming from the
back of the cell block interrupted Taelor’s pleasant thoughts. The newly-bladed
warrior’s growl ended with an ear-splitting howl of fury.

Determined to distract himself, Taelor
studied the view screen on the control console. He scrolled through several
commands. After selecting navigation, he searched until finding the right
screen. The time to destination appeared—five point two five hours.

Attor roared again. There was no hint of
pleasure in the sound. There was only rage.

* * * *

No longer crying, Laeness screamed curses
at him. She wasn’t used to taking orders from anyone. Taelor blocked out the
noise, preferring to wait in silence until his sister quieted or passed out. He
should be so lucky.

They’d arrived at the citadel by shuttle
almost two hours ago. Attor was in a room not far from where they waited. The teachers
had been working with him for the past four hours. So far he hadn’t come out of
his rage.

Immediately after the
Avenger
entered orbit around Fortress World, four warriors had stormed into the brig.
Taelor had never felt so relieved. The older warriors were all skilled handlers
sent by the head mistress to collect Attor. What surprised him the most was how
they dealt with the young warrior. One handler shot him with a stun gun.
Afterward, they carried him out and loaded him onto a shuttle without any
trouble. Attor was at the citadel long before he, Jarrok, Laeness and her
entourage could leave the
Avenger
on another shuttle.

After they arrived on Fortress, the news
from the head mistress hadn’t been encouraging. Despite the efforts of several teachers,
Attor wasn’t responding. They were told to prepare for the worst outcome. That
was what started his sister’s tears. Their quarrel began when he refused to do
as she demanded. The fight was delayed when she screamed at him. Taelor figured
it took two to have a disagreement, so he’d shut up and refused to speak until
she’d calmed down.

Once quiet descended, Taelor glanced warily
at her. She sat on one of the plush lounges, which were scattered strategically
around the large room. Allya comforted her. Out of curiosity, Taelor inhaled,
analyzing the various scents. Most were female. This was a room several teachers
used daily. The faint smell of female and food lingered in the air.

“Taelor, please don’t let them destroy him.”
His sister’s plea was soft spoken.

“I won’t interfere with the head mistress’
decision, Laeness. She won’t make the recommendation without just cause. We
must respect her knowledge.”

“It’s your vow, isn’t it? You can’t
disagree with them ever!”

“Laeness, my vows have nothing to do with
Attor’s fate. If the teachers can’t save him then he’s as good as dead, anyway.
Do you not understand?”

His sister simply stared at him. Her blank
expression worried him. It gave him a familiar warning chill, which usually
served him well during a battle. She was plotting. Her brown eyes narrowed and
her expression hardened to stone.

“If he must die then I request he do so
with honor as a fallen warrior, Taelor. As the warrior who has been his closest
brother, you must be the one to strike the blow.”

“No!” It was his turn to yell, but he knew
he’d lost the battle. His sister was right. “Laeness, don’t ask this of me.”

“Do your duty, brother.”

He couldn’t believe his sister told him to
kill her son. A moment ago, she’d been trying to get him to protect Attor. She
was driving him crazy. No matter how distasteful, if the head mistress decided
Attor should die, he’d have no choice but to kill the young warrior. It was
dishonorable to expect someone else to do the deed when he was available. It
was his duty.

“Taelor, I don’t want to lose my son, but
if his mind is gone then he’s lost to us forever. I can’t bear to think how he
might be suffering. You must go and stay with him…until the end. Don’t leave
him.”

Taelor blinked and then bowed his head
solemnly. “He will die with honor, Laeness, by my hand alone.”

At last they’d finally agreed on something.

Chapter Eleven

Part Three: The Taming

Lydia reclined on a lounge positioned close
to the balcony edge overlooking the training grounds. The balcony was one of
the highest in the citadel and afforded a broad view. It was her favorite place
to while away a few hours. She was free . Her one whole day of vacation in two
weeks and she was determined to enjoy it thoroughly—alone. No demands, no
responsibilities, she was able to let her mind and body rest.

Since she was a fully-qualified teacher,
most of her duties weren’t physically demanding. The Giver of Pleasure had the
active duty in training while the Giver of Punishment played a more passive
role. Lydia had the high honor of being considered the most talented teacher in
the art of punishment. On occasion, she’d switch duties with one of the pleasure
givers, but most often her teaching skills were required for warriors in their
third week of training. Third weekers were the most challenging. She’d spent
the last two weeks training two young warriors who needed her desperately, and
there were three more entering their third week tomorrow.

Lydia couldn’t help wondering if the
numbers of young warriors were growing. She’d heard an interesting rumor making
its way through the teachers a few days ago about an increase in the number of
young warriors arriving on Fortress. That information coupled with the fact the
head mistress was interviewing a new group of initiates for the second time
before the year was over made her believe something was odd. There was no doubt
their workload had increased during the past two years, making Lydia thankful
she kept her body in shape by rigorous training in the gym, but despite all the
exercise, she was mentally exhausted. The quiet solitude of the balcony was
sheer heaven.