Again, almost all of the conversation in this part takes place in R'ren'nkh'ia-go, but to save my time and fingers - and your eyes! - I'm not going to put the speech into italics as I usually do.
Defeat (pt 1)
Half-closed eyes stung, as much from the blinding sun - blazing from above, reflected from the sands below as though from a mirror - as from the sweat that trickled down his eyelids before evaporating.
He had at least taken the time to slather sunscreen liberally over himself before setting off, and carried an almost full water-bottle. There had been two: one of them now lay, empty, a day's journey back towards the High King's enclave.
He'd flown through the afternoon, all night, and now into the early afternoon of the following day, grimly determined, deciding he could only afford to stop and rest when he'd caught up with Zha'haabron. Although he couldn't tell exactly where his bondmate was - the entire group were ki-suppressed to be on the safe side, and the High King had even trimmed their mental bond to a minimum - that shouldn't be too long now: he was approaching the borders of Gh'grigon's territory...
He cried out as something ripped into him, ripped through him, exiting his body in a spray of blood. Hand pressed over the entry wound just above his hip, he paused for a second, trying to see where the shot had come from: a second too long as others drilled through the muscle of his upper arm, his thigh, his shoulder, clipped his temple...
It was that last that brought him down, plummeting from the sky to land solidly on hard packed sand, breaking several ribs as he did so. His last sight, before blacking out, was of the desert-robed shr'en'an with their motley assortment of antique weaponry approaching his bleeding body.
Zha'haabron's reconnaissance team were ready for action - had been ready for the last five days, night-time target practise with wrist-mounted firearms instead of their more usual laser rifles, and hard sparring sessions, having honed them all into a truly deadly force. Even better, they were now a team, close-knit and familiar with each other's strengths and few weaknesses. They should have no problem in taking the enclave and clearing the way for Zha'haabron to combat the va'ha'da, backed up by the five warriors he'd brought with him.
Now they just had to gain entrance to the enclave itself.
Ish'ayi frowned. "Ideally, Ssii'iin, we would have one of us enter incognito to learn the layout, the best entrances, anywhere we could be trapped - or trap them. But it's unlikely any of us" he gestured at the company "could pass for simple nomads!"
Zha'haabron nodded, smiling. Superbly-trained mercenaries, perhaps, but never traders or wanderers.
"The broods may be able to assist."
Chy'eedon inclined his head.
"How, Ssii'iin? We have no means of communicating with them."
"We do. My host-sib is one of the captive zn'hre."
There was a startled silence, then Ish'ayi leaned forwards, a pleased smirk quirking his wide mouth.
"Indeed. Then, my Ssii'iin, might I urge you to contact him as quickly as you can? The sooner we can execute this raid, the easier it will be. We don't want to give them time to organise their own forces."
Zha'haabron nodded, turning his attention inwards, eyes half-closing.
**Brother?**
There were a few seconds of silence, then -
**Heart-brother... You are closer**
**We come to retrieve you**
He *felt* Zha'hiirad's chuckle.
**And to remove the va'ha'da**
**That too. We need to know where you are, and the layout of the enclave. Can you help?**
**Our knowledge is limited. But the little ko'ish'n comes and goes more or less freely - I will have her describe it to me when she visits, tomorrow**
Zha'haabron's heart sank.
**Not today?**
**She has already been here today. Gh'grigon only permits her to visit once a day. And even if I asked for her to come, it would not be permitted. I dare not rouse suspicions, or annoy the Ssii'iir**
Zha'haabron sighed silently.
**It cannot be helped** He paused momentarily, then turned to other practical matters. **And for yourselves - what is your condition?**
**Weak, malnourished, in pain**
**Serious injuries? Anything needing immediate attention?**
There was a barely perceptible hesitation, then:
**Nothing serious. More than anything, I think we want to be warm. And clean - there has never been anything to cleanse ourselves with here**
Zha'haabron frowned. **How long have you been there?**
There was a long pause.
**I... don't know. We have no way of marking the passage of time**
The voice was weakening: he could *feel* his sibling's exhaustion.
**Rest now. We will speak tomorrow**
A tired *nod*, and his host-sib was *gone*.
The shr'en'an were watching him intently. He smiled tightly.
"Nothing can be done until tomorrow. I suggest we rest now."
He was cool, almost cold, and happily so. It helped make the torment of his wounds a little more bearable...
Radittsu's eyes shot open and he jerked upright, only to collapse back with a cry as pain exploded through him.
"Ah, good. Awake at last."
He turned his head carefully in the direction of the horribly familiar voice.
Dhr'ovaanon stood beside the bed. The va'ha'da leered at him.
"Do you know him?"
This voice was unfamiliar. The Saiyan squinted past Dhr'ovaanon to the massive, heavily scarred lizard behind him, frowning slightly, forcing down his awareness of his pain as he tried to focus on his plight. Was he imagining it, or did the va'ha'da have a faint likeness to Gh'heegonan?
The scarred lizard approached the bed as Dhr'ovaanon trailed a claw down the side of Radittsu's face, breaking the skin and leaving a blood trail behind.
"Oh yes. I know this pretty little thing. The High King's plaything." He leaned down, blowing hot air over the Saiyan's face as Radittsu closed his eyes in revulsion. "I've tasted his flesh. Tight, tight and hot. Nice little plaything. Perhaps," he licked across Radittsu's mouth, his saliva sticky and bitter, "we can play again. Would you like that, pretty thing?" A clawed hand squeezed the Saiyan's genitals roughly. "I would. I have new games to play..."
"Dhr'ovaanon, enough."
Reluctantly the va'ha'da pulled back, slowly, his claws leaving bloody tracks at Radittsu's groin. The Saiyan closed his eyes in despair - he knew this newest voice. Zha'geekaan.
A rough, clawed hand gripped his chin.
"Look at me."
He kept his eyes closed. The hand clenched, bruising skin against bone.
"Look at me, or I'll have your eyelids cut away."
Reluctantly, Radittsu opened his eyes.
And... suddenly...
It felt almost like a ki-blast, but did no damage. As his eyes, wide with shock, met Zha'haabron's sire's, he knew that the va'ha'da had felt it too...
Zha'geekaan stared, then a slow smile dawned...
"By all that's sacred... He did it, didn't he?"
The big lizard touched a forefinger to the Saiyan's brow - and Radittsu knew what it was to be Zha'geekaan. He smiled, slowly and savagely, at his twin.
Zha'geekaan leered back, fangs bared. "He *shared* me with you, didn't he? He let me into your mind..."
**... She says that the main entrance is heavily guarded - but there's a side entrance, one that Zva'ha'shna devotees use to leave the enclave for their ceremonies. Ti'lais thinks that maybe the shr'en'an and va'ha'da don't know about it - she's never seen it guarded. It's inside a store room, but she doesn't know where it comes out. She'll have to go through it and try to guide you in visually**
**Very well. Tell her to be outside at sunrise tomorrow. Can Ti'strees be there to guide us to the main concourse once we are inside?**
There was a brief *silence*, then, **She thinks so. She'll make sure of it**
**Good. Then Ti'lais herself can guide a party down to you** He *smiled*. **We will have you free very soon, brother. All of you**
There was another of those odd, awkward pauses, then Zha'hiirad *smiled* back.
**I have never been free. It will be - interesting**
Hands clenched together in anticipation, Zha'haabron wished his host-sib farewell and closed the *connection*.
Chy'eedon was pacing impatiently: the High King gestured to him to be seated.
"The broods estimate that at present there's a force of about seventy shr'en'an warriors in the enclave. That would appear to be Gh'grigon's normal complement: right now the va'ha'da are resting, gathering their strength, and - Ti'strees believes from the gossip - waiting for reinforcements from other enclaves."
Ish'ayi nodded pensively. "Makes sense. We've intercepted a few messages, coded and on a variable frequency, which we think were aimed at other chiefs. We couldn't pick them up clearly without giving away our own position."
Zha'haabron inclined his head. "As long as we can gain access, kill the va'ha'da, rescue the zn'hre and escape before their reinforcements arrive, nothing else matters at this stage. With this enclave defeated, and the three main dissidents destroyed, clean up operations should cause us few problems. Trade embargoes are easy enough to instigate and control, and would very likely do the job for us. But that will be for the council to discuss, later. For now, let's review our plans. And let me stress again, Dhr'ovaanon and Zha'geekaan are mine - you are not to try to engage them in combat..."
"So he's on his way here?"
Radittsu nodded. "With a highly trained force. Thirty shr'en'an warriors, plus another five trained by him and me. They can fly, and they use ki-attacks - you'll need to watch out for them. Take them out as quickly as you can."
Zha'geekaan nodded. "And Zha'haabron himself?"
The Saiyan frowned. "I don't want any harm to come to him. He's mine."
The big lizard chuckled. "Ah, jealousy. Such a useful commodity. Very well. I promise you no harm will come to him. On condition you do as we demand."
Radittsu sneered. "And would you accept such a condition?"
Zha'geekaan hissed a short, dry laugh. "No."
"Then don't expect me to do so."
The lizard shook his head. "You really are my other self." He glanced up slyly. "Should I prepare the narcotics and the fetters?"
Radittsu stared at him for a moment, then smiled, slowly. "Oh yes. I think I would enjoy that..."
Sunset, and Zha'haabron was restless - partly anticipation, partly missing his bondmate. Standing outside the cave they were using as a base, he risked a low-key *communication*.
**Zk'vissin?...**
For a minute or two there was no answer, then,
*Zha'haabron? Is something wrong?*
**No. I'm sorry - did I wake you?**
*S'all right...* Zha'haabron *felt* the Saiyan wince as he moved, and frowned.
**You're hurt?**
A moment's silence.
*It's nothing. I trained too hard.*
But there was something not quite right. He had the sudden impression his bondmate was lying to him.
**Are you sure?**
*Yes. When are you coming home?*
**Soon**
*How soon?*
**A few days**
*I miss you.*
**And I you**
*Love you, beloved...*
As the *voice* tailed off into silence, the zn'hre cut the *communication*, frowning, trying vainly to work out what was wrong...
"And you didn't tell him you were here?"
Radittsu snorted. "Of course not!"
"Good. That provides us with an element of surprise. Now, this is what I want - what I'd like - you to do..."
Midnight, and the High King's forces were on the move, their desert combat skills at full stretch as they made their way to Gh'grigon's enclave, arriving a little before sunrise. Zha'haabron hovered above the area, scanning the ground, awaiting Ti'lais - and growing tense as sunrise grew closer and there was still no sign of the brood.
Then - a flash of colour, a winking light. The High King dropped lightly down to land beside the ko'ish'n, beckoning the watching warriors to him. As they made their way swiftly and silently from the rocks in which they'd hidden, Zha'haabron turned to Ti'lais and hugged her briefly.
"Well done. We are in your debt."
"My Ssii'iin, it's not over yet. We have to get the zn'hre out - they're in a terrible state... Zha'hiirad..."
He laid a hand over her lips, silencing her as his warriors assembled before him, then pushing gently at her shoulder.
"Lead us inside."
Biting her lip, she lead them down a narrow crevice in the rock until they reached a low door, so inconspicuous it would be invisible even in full daylight. One by one the R'ren'nkh'ia-jin slipped inside.
The storage room was small, a tight squeeze for them, but they weren't to remain there for very long. Now that they were inside the enclave, it should be safe for the shr'en'an to move about freely - they'd be unlikely to be questioned. Zha'haabron was a different matter.
Following Ti'lais, three warriors headed down to release the captives, while Zha'haabron held a brief, whispered discussion with Ti'strees with Ish'ayi and Chy'eedon listening closely. Ti'strees had explained that although this particular part of the enclave was quiet, there was much more activity towards the central halls and the court - mainly because the three va'ha'da seemed to be holding some sort of early meeting in what they were now calling the throne-room. Ish'ayi frowned.
"Ssii'iin, you'll have to let us clear the way first. We don't want to alert them before we have to, and anyone seeing you will most certainly raise the alarm."
Zha'haabron nodded reluctantly.
"Very well. We will wait here: Ti'strees, go with them and report back here when they've reached the throne-room."
She bit her lip nervously. "But Ssii'iin, they can't get rid of everyone! You could still be caught."
He smiled and stroked the fine down over her head.
"Unlikely, little one. The only beings here who might be able to hurt me are Dhr'ovaanon and Zha'geekaan: no-one else is powerful enough. I'd simply prefer to maintain the element of surprise. It will make this whole operation run much more smoothly."
She nodded uncertainly. "All right. I'll come and get you when they're ready."
"Thank you."
Two of Zha'haabron's elite unit remained with the High King: the others went with the main group. And a tense half an hour later, the little ph'ti'pa returned, slipping into the storage room, her eyes wide, face pale.
"They've secured the entrance to the throne-room." She swallowed. "A... all of the warriors they met are either dead or wounded."
Zha'haabron closed his eyes for a moment, grieving for the loss of life - then gazed at the brood.
"Give us precise directions to the throne-room."
She swallowed again, and complied. "Left out of here, up one level, second right..."
Zha'haabron had her repeat it to ensure they all knew where they were going, then patted the ph'ti'pa's shoulder.
"You should wait outside, now. It would be safer." As Ti'strees nodded and hastened to the exit, the zn'hre turned to his fellow warriors.
"Let's fly..."
Flying in a confined space was never easy - but it made sure they reached the entrance to the throne room at maximum speed and with a minimum of difficulty. At the door Zha'haabron paused and gazed round at his warriors.
"Excellently done. But we will take it from here. Please ensure no-one enters the hall - I don't want any of you to be hurt."
Accepting their brief confirmatory nods with one of his own, he turned, flanked by his special unit, and entered the throne-room.
Zha'geekaan lounged on the chair on the dais at the rear of the room, Dhr'ovaanon leaning against its back. Zha'haabron frowned. Neither seemed surprised to see him.
"Hello little viper. Have you come to give me back my throne?"
Zha'haabron gestured his warriors to stay back near the door, then prowled into the centre of the room, glancing around it, frowning.
"Where's Gh'grigon?"
"Oh, around." The big lizard waved a negligent hand. "You don't need to worry about him. Not yet, anyway. He'll be here soon." He depressed a button on the armrest of the 'throne': there was a metallic clunk behind them. "There. The doors are sealed. We won't be interrupted."
Not that that would be much security against ki blasts. Unworried, Zha'haabron inclined his head. "You know why I'm here."
Dhr'ovaanon giggled. "Why, to kill us of course!"
"If you can." added Zha'geekaan, smirking.
Zha'haabron stared at them. There was something definitely wrong...
Gasps from behind him had him whirling round in time to see two tz'een, their faces impassive, withdraw the hypodermic darts they'd jammed into the necks of the shr'en'an. The last warrior hissed and grabbed for them, breaking both their necks, but it was too late. Writhing in agony, the four warriors choked on their own blood as they died.
Anger a slow hot fire building in him, Zha'haabron turned back to the va'ha'da, aura crackling as his ki surged upwards and outwards, growing with his fury. He raised his glowing hands.
"You are dead."
"Oh, I don't think so." The voice was calm. Zha'haabron twisted to see Gh'grigon standing at the side of the room - with Radittsu held tightly to his chest. There was a thin, barbed knife at the Saiyan's throat: his eyes were closed, his body bruised, injured, streaked with dried blood, his expression anguished. "At least, not if you wish your bondmate to live..."
"Ssii'iin!" the final warrior hissed a warning, and Zha'haabron turned to see him pointing downwards - then falling, gurgling, as Gh'grigon's thrown knife pierced his throat and spine. Frozen for a vital, fatal second, Zha'haabron didn't react quite fast enough, his ki blast incinerating the little gn'ick'lehe at his side, but not before the tiny lizard had plunged a syringe full of an icy liquid into his thigh.
The effect was almost immediate, numbing the High King's body completely and disorientating him as it affected his sense of balance, sending him crashing to the ground. Gh'grigon walked over to him, Radittsu at his side. His vision spinning, the zn'hre stared up at his bondmate.
**B... belo... ved...**
The Saiyan crouched down, one hand stroking Zha'haabron's face.
"I'm sorry it had to be this way. But just think of all the fun we're going to have..." The hand continued downwards, ripping the High King's bodysuit from him.
"Can I play first?" Dhr'ovaanon was drooling, his eyes fixed on the powerful blue body now helpless on the floor. Radittsu scowled.
"He's mine."
"Oh, I know, little plaything. I just thought it might be nice to try a different sort of fetter from the usual."
Radittsu inclined his head. "Such as?"
The insane va'ha'da reached behind the throne and held up four metal spikes, flattened at the blunt ends. "How about these?"
It's not a nightmare. This is really happening. Why is it happening? Rhoi'i'dat'hzziu, zk'aida, why are you doing this?
Helpless, his body already beginning to shake with the effect of the narcotic, Zha'haabron could do nothing as they stretched out his arms, unable even to scream as Dhr'ovaanon hammered the spikes between the bones of his forearms and into the stone flags beneath.
Agony exploded through him, blinding, nearly unbearable: part of the mix had been a compound to increase his sensitivity to pain, another part to keep him conscious. Zha'geekaan gazed down at him pensively, then smiled.
"I always liked him best when he was ready and waiting for me. Let's try this..."
They spread his legs wide, so wide he could feel the strain on his hips, and flexed his knees so his feet were flat on the ground - then Dhr'ovaanon drove the remaining spikes through both feet, pinning him immovably to the floor.
Zha'haabron did lose consciousness then, for a few blissful seconds. But it didn't last. His eyes opened, to see the three va'ha'da leering down at him - and, behind them, his bondmate. Radittsu's mouth smiled, but there was horror in his eyes.
Forcing himself to ignore the pain - focus, disregard it, you've done so in the past - Zha'haabron gazed at the Saiyan.
**Zk'vissin... Please, come back to me. I love you**
Radittsu swallowed hard, unseen by the lizards, and shook his head slightly. Zha'geekaan turned and laid a heavy arm companionably across his shoulders. His voice was low, seductive.
"Look at him. So beautiful, so helpless, spread ready for you to take your pleasure. I know you want to. You know you want to. Take him. Take him now..."
A sharp, blinding pain was trying to split Radittsu's head in two. Part of him had watched the va'ha'da crucify his zn'hre, wanting to scream with sheer horror and despair. Another part wanted to violate that powerful body, own it, control it.
And now Zha'geekaan was inviting him to take the High King. He wanted to. Gods he wanted to! But... something made him fight it down, piercing his own palms with his nails, refusing to give in.
He'd hurt his beloved enough already.
Dimly aware that he might be condemning them both to a slow, agonising death, he shook his head. Zha'geekaan regarded him narrowly.
"Perhaps you need a little more encouragement... Watch..."
He gestured to Dhr'ovaanon - who flung himself onto the zn'hre, ramming into the shuddering, helpless body...
Frozen, Radittsu watched for a long moment. Then growled, gathering ki...
And leapt to his beloved's side, grabbing the insane va'ha'da by the scruff of the neck, yanking him from the suffering body and hauling him upright - and driving powerful fingers into his eyes.
Dhr'ovaanon shrieked as he was blinded, hands clutching at the liquid jelly bubbling on his cheeks. Smiling coldly, Radittsu slammed him to the ground.
"I said he is mine!" Strong, ki-powered hands reached downwards and ripped his genitals from his body, smiling grimly as dark blue blood fountained from the torn flesh.
Zha'geekaan stood frozen, staring in disbelief. Radittsu rounded on him.
"MINE!!!"
And the Saiyan flickered to stand behind him, picking up the heavy grey body, slamming it down across his knee and snapping the spine, audibly, then throwing the screaming, paralysed lizard to the ground.
Gh'grigon cowered at the side of the room, unable to believe what he'd just seen. Radittsu stood in the centre, breathing heavily, his eyes fixed and staring, oblivious to his bleeding bondmate, the high-pitched screaming from the crippled lizards, the pounding on the double doors, the demands for entry from the shr'en'an outside...
© 2001 November 19th Joules Taylor
