The beat of a drum controls my movements, controls my very essence. I'm on a stage in a rundown tavern I own, a far cry from the palace I grew up in, wearing only a jeweled belt from which a length of silk hangs. I make my living as an adventurer, although many could also call me a whore, and my career has seen me already travel the world. I always return to the free city of Nahoy though, where the streets know me just as Shana and no one has knowledge of my past. The drum ceases and so too does my dance, ending with one leg bent and the other extended out in front while also bending at the waist to let my breasts hang. Lewd cheers fill the tavern and as I straighten, brushing hair from my face, I scan the crowd. Everyone falls silent, all of them trying to get my attention, but I halt upon a man unusually well-dressed for the tavern and so standing out, crooking a finger.
He stumbles forward as those near him give ungentle shoves. I have a different lover after each dance, perhaps four or five over the course of a day, but men are still a covetous breed. The man steps onto the stage, his sandals slapping the wood, and I take one of his hands, leading him into my room. A polished sheet of metal rests against one wall and I shiver as I look at the people visible, at how the man completely dwarfs the woman. She is bronzed, with supple limbs and a beautiful hourglass figure, as her belt falls to the floor. Her smouldering eyes meet mine, violet and intense, and when she tosses her head dark hair tumbles down the length of her back. The dark man behind is all lines, firm where she is soft and suddenly dominant while she seems submissive. His eyes trace over my body through the mirror and he starts disrobing when my reflection nods.
I'm pushed onto the bed, feeling it creak as he also climbs on, and gasp when he inserts his shaft into me. It's bigger than I thought, reaching deep, and he grasps my hips before setting a rapid pace. My dancing has got me excited, it's the thrill of teasing the room, and it isn't long before I shudder through an orgasm. His pace doesn't change though, pistoning in and out, and my upper body strength soon abandons me, head resting on crossed arms. A roving hand touches the brand on my left shoulder blade, the gods know I screamed when it was applied, and then the hand at my hips tightens.
"The mark of King Kravana!"
I stiffen with fear and repressed memory as that name is uttered. Kravana had been a noble in my homeland of Rakhpanna until he seized the throne, slaying my family and taking me as a slave in the process. Violently I force a change of position, ending up straddling the man's hips with his shaft still inside me.
"What of it?" There's a look on his face, triumph mixed with a hint of sadness, and I rock my hips, drawing out a gasp. "Who are you?"
In response though he bucks, a white-hot pleasure overtakes my mind, and I moan as our releases come simultaneously. He slithers from beneath me with heavy breath and I drop to the bed, thighs parted and skin adorned by a layer of sweat.
"Call me Aseel. I represent a party interested in Kravana's removal." There's a glimmer in my eye when I look up and Aseel smiles. "I'm hoping to engage your services."
He quickly speaks of events in my homeland, of how Kravana has revealed himself to be a tyrant and now threatens neighbouring countries. Some things I know, wanderers hear all sorts of rumours, but others discomfort me. Reaching under the bed I retrieve a crumpled linen cloak and tunic, shaking them out before draping both over my curves, and a pair of boots. With a press of a concealed button a hidden door in one wall opens, revealing the way I can come and go without notice, and I lead Aseel out onto the streets of Nahoy as I lift the hood of the cloak over my head.
It takes two weeks of hard riding cross-country for me to reach the Imshel Desert where the first of Aseel's agents, a hand-picked band of slavers, are waiting. In the shade of an oasis their wagon sits, four women chained to its sides beneath an iron cage, and I find myself gently trembling. A leering slaver cuts away my clothing and footwear, rolling the linen into a ball, before then shoving all of it into his pack as I'm forced into the cage. During the trek across the sands I learn a little of my sisters-in-bondage, that they are abducted princesses who have come via the port city of Vehoy, Nahoy's fallen twin, from countries in the west. Great lands such as Tatyn, Antissa and Magnea that are considered exotic by the peoples of the deserts.
Civilization starts emerging from among the dunes on my fifth day in the cage, little huts for use by those who are lost and isolated watch-towers whose garrisons can see for uncounted miles. Eventually the city of Neshwada, Rakhpanna's capital, is visible, the sight of its spires and domed towers making my heart ache. The wagon enters through a wide gate and is on the main road, on a path leading straight to the palace. Bustling crowds fill the streets, traders yell in a bid to attract customers, and a thousand hands let merchandise pass through their fingers. More than a few hands are stuck into the cage, reaching for the helpless flesh within, and so all five of us end up huddled in its center. The wagon continues until in the shadow of the palace and then stops while a junior minister glances at us, eyes narrowed slightly as his gaze passes over me, before he hands a bulging coin-pouch to the slaver chief. We're unlocked and shepherded from the wagon by a squad of royal guards, still huddling together, and the minister snaps his fingers as he starts walking, looking over his shoulder to make sure we're being brought along.
I remember the passages we're being led along, remember secrets behind tapestries and at the back of alcoves. I falter though as we pass what had been the chapel, its marble altar now stained a faded crimson and with manacles at each corner. A statue of an imperious looking nude woman looms over it, cold eyes staring at a point only visible to her, and a distinct aura of malevolence fills the chamber. Worshippers of Atzimatl are said to send a soul a day into her embrace, to show their victims the heart just cut from their chest, and I wonder how many have died on the altar. Further along the corridor we are conducted to a non-descript door, unfamiliar no matter how hard I try, and the minister sends us all through.
We come into a room I do vividly remember though, a small servants' waiting room attached to the royal bedchambers that was my play area as a child. Another minister, of a far higher status than the first, takes possession of us here and soon we stand just outside the king's personal chambers, our guard escort still watching us. I feel mild panic, surely I'll be known the moment I enter Kravana's presence, but try to calm myself. Eventually we are summoned, commanding voice rolling out from the innermost chamber, and I shrink back as Kravana gazes upon us, the corpulent schemer I escaped from now a towering figure of striking hard muscle. Swiftly he bounds from the bed and seizes Derga, the blonde Tatynite unable to react as he roughly gropes her, before hurling the woman back.
"Give her to the eastern lords."
Derga is dragged away by a guard, fear on her face as her feet scrabble hopelessly for purchase, and Kravana turns to the rest of us. He does the same to Lina, Phaedra and Iphis, sending them all away as playthings for honoured guests, before then standing in front of me.
We are alone except for a guard but I'm anxious as Kravana looks closely at me, knowing I'll never be so close to him again but have not yet been given anything to kill him with.
"There's something about you. Something familiar…"
I don't let him finish his thoughts though and decide to improvise, snatching the sword from its sheath at his waist before shoving it fully into his guts. As the guard takes a step forward behind me I spin on my heel, stolen blade tearing open the guard's throat, before dashing for the servants' door. Once in the corridor beyond I hasten to the nearest alcove, pulling the candle-holder there to open a secret passage. The passage seals after a moment, I hear the click of the candle-holder locking back into position, and I let myself slump against the passage wall, heart racing within my heaving breast. The hidden corridor leads to the palace gardens just as I remember, emerging near a small gate that allows access to the wider city, and I glance around before running for it.
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