Revealed (52 page)

The door opened and an imp, one of the lowest of the
Shmeel
tribe, stepped inside.
 
“Your pardon, Master,” it squeaked, rubbing its dirty grey claws together nervously. “But the prisoner is here.”

“Is he? Excellent—bring him in.”

The imp winced as the words sliced its mottled greyish skin and black blood flowed sluggishly from the wounds. It was wise enough, however, not to say anything. It only bowed and opened the door wider. “Come,” it said, nodding at those who were waiting in the hallway. “The master says bring him in.”

Two burly trolls of the
Xa
tribe dragged a tall, lanky male with white blond hair into the room. He was wearing the traditional clothing of Tranq Prime, Draven noted—a purple furred
tharp
and boots to match. They made quite a contrast with the prisoner’s pale skin.

“What are you doing? Take your filthy paws off me,” the male demanded angrily. “I am a Licklow of the largest grotto on Tranq Prime. Release me at once.”

“We release you…if Master says. Not before,” growled one of the trolls. The other simply champed its tusks menacingly, drool running down its beefy chin to fall on its bare chest.

Draven made a motion to the trolls. “You heard our guest—he wishes to be released. Do so at once.”

“Master says, we obey.” The trolls let go of the prisoner at the same time but since they’d been holding him about a foot off the ground, he fell in a heap at Draven’s feet. He got up at once, dusting himself off and glaring at Draven.

“I don’t know who you think you are but I am
very
displeased by my treatment here.”

“I’m so very sorry!” Draven exclaimed. “You must forgive my subordinates—the undertribes are so
crude
.
You there,”
he said, directing his attention to the already wounded imp.
“Get our guest a drink at once.”

The imp winced as more wounds opened on its filthy hide and scuttled to do Draven’s bidding. It poured a stream of blood-colored wine into a jewel encrusted cup and ran to offer it to the prisoner. He took it gingerly, Draven noted, making sure not to touch the imp’s skin, and sniffed suspiciously before taking a sip.

“It’s good, is it not?” Draven smiled charmingly. “Pressed from the grape over a thousand years ago. An excellent vintage and well aged. I, on the other hand, am going to have quite a different libation.”

Rising, he took his own cup, the twin of the one the prisoner held, and walked toward a cabinet at the center of the room. Inside, bound, gagged, and naked was a female
Varian.
Her three full breasts thrust outwards from her chest, their dark blue nipples tight with need.

The prisoner put down his cup and stared, wide eyed, as Draven stroked each breast in turn, taking his time in choosing his vintage. The middle breast seemed the fullest so Draven placed his cup beneath it and palmed its smooth, pale blue surface almost tenderly.

“Wine is all well and good,” he told the Tranq Prime male as he gave the full breast a savage squeeze. The
Varian
female moaned with pain. Draven ignored her and squeezed again, forcing the breast to flow. “However, sometimes one wants something a little stronger. A little…sweeter.” He pinched the nipple to get the last drops of rich purple milk and then took a sip. “Ahh,
delicious
. Even better than
Lagosian
wine, I think.”

“Did you just say
Lagosian
?” The Tranq Prime male frowned. “But
Lagos
is a dead planet. It was despoiled by the Hoard over a thousand years ago.”

“
Exactly
.” Draven nodded and shut the cabinet, muting the
Varian’s
cries. He strolled back to stand in front of the prisoner. “
Now
do you know where you are?”

The male’s skin went suddenly even paler. “I…it can’t be—not Hrakaz! I thought I was still somewhere on
First World
. The last thing I remember is falling and then…”

“One of my underlings caught you and brought you here.” Draven smiled and took another sip from his cup. “It saved you from splattering all over the desert floor—you’re quite welcome for that, by the way. Although you may not be too quick to thank me if you can’t answer my questions.”

“What questions?” the male demanded, drawing himself up and lifting his chin. “And what gives you the right to question me?”

“Well, I
did
save your life,” Draven pointed out pleasantly. “I wouldn’t think you’d mind answering a few questions. You know—just as a favor, between friends?”

“But, I—” the prisoner began.

“However, I can see you’re determined to be stubborn.” Draven put his cup on the ornately carved table by the couch and smoothed his thumb and forefinger along his perfectly trimmed mustache and down his goatee. It was a habit he had when he was feeling thoughtful…or bloody. “Such a shame,” he sighed. “I
do
dislike unpleasantness.”

“Now, wait a minute…” The prisoner’s bulging blue eyes were suddenly filled with fright.

“Hold him,” Draven told the trolls. “Body and head.” They grabbed the male’s arms before he could move and one of the trolls gripped his white blond hair with its thick, sausage like fingers. It pulled tight until a squeak of pain was forced from his lips. “Very nice.” Draven nodded and took a step toward the prisoner so that they were face to face.

“Stop!” the male gasped. “Please…”

“All in good time.” Draven smiled gently. “Now,” he said, cupping the male’s sweating cheek lightly in his palm and positioning his thumb over one bulging blue eyeball—the left. “You have a choice, my friend. You can either lose one eye…or both.”

“I…I don’t understand.” The prisoner was obviously trying to keep his courage up and failing miserably. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that you’ve been rude to me several times already in our brief conversation,” Draven told him sternly. “That alone will cost you an eye. However, if you think you can behave yourself and answer all my questions in a civil tone, I
might
spare you the other. Just because I’m feeling generous today.”

“What…what do you want to know?”

“Maybe I can tell you what I
already
know and you can fill in the blanks.” Draven smiled pleasantly and stroked the prisoner’s trembling eyelid lightly with the ball of his thumb. “What do you say?”

“Yes, yes. I say yes,” the male promised hoarsely.

“Good. Aren’t things more pleasant when we all use good manners?” Draven stopped stroking and rested his thumb more firmly on the male’s eyelid. “Now, it is known to me that
First World
has recently gotten itself a new ruler. A new
Counselor
 
to watch over and protect it. Yes?”

“Yes, yes!” The male nodded and Draven felt the eyeball roll under his thumb like a marble. “Same off-worlder bastard that stole my female,” he went on. “He came and challenged the blood bond for her—took her away.”

“Dear me, that sounds like a rather unpleasant business.” Draven shook his head and made a
tsking
sound with his tongue. “But as to this new Counselor , my spies have been monitoring
First World
—they saw him come. Saw his wings manifest just in time to save the girl—now
that
was a good catch, wouldn’t you say?”

“I…”

“A rhetorical question, I assure you.” Draven pressed a little harder on the male’s eyeball, eliciting a muffled shriek, and continued. “Anyway, it’s an understatement to say I wasn’t pleased to see him come—but I wasn’t exactly
surprised
either. There’s a prophecy, you see. There’s
always
a prophecy when it comes to the Kindred.” He made a bored motion with his free hand. “But this one speaks about the lost son of the Counselor
 
coming home to rule once he sprouts his wings and finds his
Lyzel
, etcetera, etcetera, ad naseum.” He made another circular gesture with his free hand.

“Now,
I,
of course, have a small score to settle with the new Counselor . Mostly because of what his father did to me quite a few years before your time, my friend.” He smiled and pressed the eyeball again. The prisoner tried to flinch back but the troll behind him held him in place. Draven was pleased—you could go on all day about how stupid the
Xa
tribe was, but no one could match them for brute strength.

“Please.” The prisoner was shaking now and sweating much more freely. Draven couldn’t tell if the clear liquid running from his eye was sweat, tears…or something else. “Please, I beg you.”

“And
I’m
begging
you
to be quiet and let me finish my story.” Draven pressed harder. “How many times do we have to talk about manners? It’s very rude to interrupt.” He sighed. “Well, as I was saying, I have a score to settle with the new Counselor
 
but
First World
is
not
my only interest. Far from it.”

He waited, but the prisoner said not a word.

“So rude,” Draven admonished him. “You could at
least
ask what my interest is.”

“I didn’t know…I thought I wasn’t…wasn’t supposed to,” the male whispered through trembling lips. “S-sorry.”

“I’ll forgive you
this
time,” Draven said, removing his thumb.

The male nearly sobbed. “Thank you.
Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” With careful precision, Draven placed the tip of his thumb and index finger at the corners of the much-abused eye. The bulging blue ball rolled frantically in its socket, filling with fear once more. Before the prisoner could start whining again, Draven went on.

“As I was
saying
, there is more at stake than simply
First World
.” He nodded at the Tranq Prime male encouragingly. “And you say…”

“What…what’s at stake?” the male gasped hoarsely.

“Very good!” Draven was pleased that the prisoner had taken his cue so well. “What’s at stake you ask? Only the entire
universe
, my friend. Of course,” he added thoughtfully. “It will take us years and years and
years
to conquer every known civilized planet, but we can start with the Kindred worlds and move on from there. We have the time
and
the numbers. The undertribes multiply so fast. Why, did you know that among the imps and trolls, the females are actually born
pregnant?
It makes fucking quite unnecessary—not that it stops them.
”
He laughed. “It’s most amusing is to see a troll fucking an imp. The size different makes it quite a challenge as I’m sure you can see.” He nodded at the tiny three foot imp standing to one side and then to the eight foot trolls holding the prisoner’s arms. “But I digress…”

Digging his finger and thumb into the corner’s of the prisoner’s eye, he pinched lightly, drawing a strangled gasp. “What I wanted to ask,
friend,”
he said, smiling into the wide, terrified blue eye. “Is exactly how
you
got here. You see, my spies saw the Kindred ship come—right through the fold, as always. Folding space…a useful technology if you want to move a huge ship with many armed warriors from one fixed spot to another,” he mused. “But it requires enormous amounts of energy and it’s not
quite
as useful if one aims to move many smaller ships to many
different
points in the universe at different times. For that, we need something else. Something else entirely.”

“I came by wormhole,” the prisoner gasped. “Wormhole, I swear it. That’s why I didn’t come through the fold.”

“Yes, my friend, but I’ve checked the star charts over and over. You
didn’t
come through a known, existing wormhole. You came through a small and extremely stable rip in the space-time continuum that was never there before. And as soon as you exited it, it promptly disappeared.” Draven pinched harder, putting stress on the fragile, slippery structure beneath his thumb and finger. “Can you explain that to me?”

“New…ship,” the prisoner groaned. “Got it from…Trissian navigator. Don’t know…how…it works.”

“Ah yes, a Trissian,” Draven mused. “Still known for their thieving ways, I see. But the question is, who did
he
get the ship from?”

“Said he…modified it himself,” the Tranq Prime male whimpered. “Got the plans from a spy probe during…a raid.”

“And
who
was he probing?” Draven massaged the eyeball cruelly, pinching hard to tug the bulging blue eye from its socket.

The prisoner gave a hoarse scream. “I don’t know! I don’t know! I swear to the Goddess,
I don’t know!”

“Mmm, that’s unfortunate for you, my friend,” Draven murmured, still tugging at the reluctant left eye. “Because you see, we’ve examined your ship and the mechanism seems to have burned out. It’s a twisted hunk of junk—there’s just no way to find out how it works—or
worked
, anyway.” He dropped his hand abruptly and wiped his fingers on his immaculately tailored
Frenez
skin
slacks. “I’m growing tired of this. Is there really
nothing
else of use you can tell me?”

“I’ll tell you anything,” the prisoner babbled, blinking his wounded but still intact left eye rapidly. It was leaking clear fluid and Draven doubted the male would ever have full vision in it again, but that wasn’t his problem. “Anything at all,” the prisoner repeated, sobbing.