“Don’t free them until I let you know it’s okay,” Cal tapped his temple.

“I will not risk their lives,” Tlaloc loomed like an elephant in a suddenly cramped office.

The acrid smell of burnt carpet filled the air.

Don Wynn probably paid a lot of money for that.

The massive obsidian axe stood like a flag planted deep into the hardwood floor.

Cal opened the window with a gesture.

Rain lashed down from the dark sky.

Lightning flashed.

Thunder cracked.

Not red, which meant—

“It is a natural storm,” Tlaloc scowled.

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Yes, you were, contemptible person. You were going to warn me about expending my power too soon.”

“The demon is somewhere out there. Can’t lock it down. I’m pretty sure—”

“Yes, yes,” Tlaloc waved a ham-sized hand.

“The rangers are landing in about fifteen.”

“I know not to strike your flying lizards.”

“I’ve given all of Don’s guards the night off.”

“Lucky them,” Tlaloc growled.

“Once you free the women and girls, see that they take off safely. Then finish everything here. We won’t be coming back.”

“He will be punished for his evil.”

“I’m largely indifferent to how you do it… just… no torture, yeah?”

“His death will be quicker than he deserves.”

“On that note, good luck.”

“It is in our hands. Do not fail the people. Break their chains.”

Tlaloc stomped out of the office.

The floor groaned in protest.

Shrewed and Drake squeezed against the hallway wall to let him pass.

He stopped and glared down at them.

“Show no mercy to all those that hold chains.”

Lightning and thunder shook the skies as if in response.

“Um… yeah,” Drake gulped.

“We’ll do our jobs. You do yours,” Shrewed nodded.

The rain god continued down the steps and into the living room.

The mansion was all but empty except for the collared women and girls.

They gathered in the living room under orders to relax.

The thought sent a paroxysm of anger through Tlaloc.

Muscles bulged as he clenched his massive fists.

It had been years since he had broken his own collar.

Soon he would grant them the same gift.

As for the slavers?

They faced a red wrath.

Doom would fall on them like rain drops in a storm.

----------------------------------------

Eric watched the bank of security screens showing everything in and around the king’s castle.

The main hall was filling with VIP guests.

As were the secondary halls and outdoor tents set up across the estate’s massive grounds.

Vehicles lined the roads leading up to the outer gates and the road to the inner gates.

“Damn rain’s making it hard to see,” one of the security tech’s muttered.

“That’s no excuse. The king’s expecting this to go smoothly. You don’t want to be the one that screws something up!” Eric snapped.

The tech sheepishly bowed her head.

Eric’s fingers twitched toward the small container in his pocket.

The stress was getting to him.

King expected too much.

High alert?

In the middle of the biggest celebration in their nation’s young history?

And it had to go perfectly?

“Fuck…” he muttered.

There was the king’s surprise to also worry about.

He had counseled against it.

Too many dangerous people that could be triggered by it.

It was just asking for trouble to do it in the middle of a dinner party surrounded by hundreds.

Eric wanted to just handle all their potential problems quietly, after the party. Get them drunk or something then grab them quietly.

But, no… King just had to show who was the alpha.

In retrospect losing the convoy was a bigger blow than Eric had realized at first.

“On top of it all, there’s a demon running around…”

“Sir?”

“Nothing!” he snapped. “Listen up!” he gazed across the security command center. “Make sure you guys are watching everything like your lives depended on it… because they do. The slightest thing that looks weird, you bring it up!”

He slammed the door on his way out.

“Fuck…” he gave in and popped a tablet. A small one. Just enough to take the edge off and level him out.

His next visit was to the oracles and those weirdos freaked him out on the good days.

----------------------------------------

“No animal companions allowed on the grounds,” the guard said.

Demi silenced Cara’s violent retort with a gesture. “The invitation said otherwise.”

“Yeah, sorry, they should’ve told you that at the second gate, but since you’re VIP’s they must’ve waved you straight through,” the guard glanced at the limo the Slaver King had sent to so ‘graciously’ escort the Watch directly to their honored table inside the king’s main hall. “We’ll provide you an escort to where they’re supposed to stay.”

“No,” Cara hissed. “I’m not leaving them. They’re going to put them in cages so they can kill them easier.”

“Damn shame,” Trevor shook his head ruefully, “I guess we’ll just have to leave and go back home.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” a smiling middle-aged woman with short blond hair approached along with a well-armed escort. “You must be the Watch? I’m ‘Kim’, CEO of the New American Republic. The king sent me to welcome you on his behalf. He’d do it himself, but you know how it is… he’s a busy man and there is a ceremonial protocol that I insist must be followed.”

The escort fanned out, not quite surrounding the Watch.

“Young lady,” she smiled at Cara, “I assure you that we will take great care of your animal companions. We are well aware that they are more than pets. As you can see,” she gestured toward one of her guards.

The man grinned. The giant Malinois next to him growled.

Licorice returned it in kind.

Goldy squawked something rude at Kim from her perch on Cara’s shoulder.

The woman’s eyes narrowed while Cara soothed the eagle’s ruffled feathers.

“If you’ll follow,” she gestured toward a pair of guards, “they’ll show you to the animal fun zone.”

“Rino, Kare, go with her,” Demi said.

“That won’t be ne—”

“Kim, is it? Why don’t take us to our table,” Demi said.

The fake smile slipped for a fraction of a second.

“Right this way,” she gestured to the grandly decorated entrance, “you’ll be able to check your weapons inside.”

“Of course,” Demi said.

They went armed and armored even though they knew that they were going to be searched.

It would’ve been more suspicious had they gone unarmed.

There was a line to get into the hall, but Kim got them through without waiting.

Richly dressed nobles and other VIP-types eyed them with a mixture of disdain and curiosity.

The entry way stretched out for about fifty yards.

Stanchions created a maze leading to multiple security stations on both sides of the wide space.

“Man, this takes me back,” Jake nudged Hillary with his prosthetic hook, “you wouldn’t now, but this is just like how everything used to be. Airports, conventions, games.”

“If any one of these bastards feels me up they’re losing that hand,” Amber said.

“This way,” Kim led them to a station that didn’t have a line waiting.

The guards placed plastic bins on the table.

“Weapons inside, you’ll get a ticket to pick them up later,” the guard said.

“How do I know it won’t go missing?” Jake placed an axe into the bin.

“We lock them up,” the guard gestured to the curtained area behind the station. “The king guarantees their safety. In the unlikely event that your weapon is damaged or lost, you will be compensated more than its worth.”

“How do you know—”

“I have an appraisal Skill,” another guard raised her hand.

In a way, walking into a trap was a good thing.

The Watch didn’t need to pretend that they weren’t nervous because it was expected of them.

And so, they turned their hastily obtained weapons over with what appeared to be genuine reluctance.

The slavers didn’t force them to take off their armor.

Indeed a few of the guards made snide remarks about them being uncomfortable for the rest of the night.

Most importantly, the slavers didn’t even ask for their phones and tablets.

“Follow me to your table. It’s quite close to the central dais where the king will be dining,” Kim smiled.

“I’ll wait for the rest of my people,” Demi crossed her arms.

“Of course,” Kim nodded. “I’ll leave them to guide you,” she gestured to a pair of guards. “The hall is quite large. Filled with over a hundred tables. I wouldn’t want you to get lost.”

“Thanks.”

Outside the grand hall Rino kept her senses tuned to their maximum sensitivity.

The rain was a problem, making it harder to see, hear and smell.

Fear.

From Cara walking ahead with Licorice close to her side and Goldy on her shoulder.

The two cats, Cinnamon and Chocolate, were the picture of languid boredom from where they sat on the huge, black dog’s broad back, but a sniff told Rino that they were ready to throw themselves at the closest guards.

Speaking of which, they were the most afraid of them all.

She glanced back at the two behind her, flashing sharp canine teeth.

That’s right.

They had watched the championships.

They knew what she could do to them.

At the head of their little escort, Kare skipped around the frightened guards asking inane questions.

“Wow! You guys put a tent over all the paths? That, like, must’ve been a lot of work,” Kare said with awe.

“Um… not really. We’ve got a lot of essential workers,” the guard shrugged.

“Oh, yeah! It must be nice that you can make them do all your work for you! And you don’t even have to pay them!”

“Uh… I guess,” the other guard said.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

“Hey? What happens if you guys, like, screw up? Do you get to become essential too?”

The guards stammered, but luckily for them they had reached their destination.

It was an enormous tent, like something out of the circus Rino had vague memories of attending when she was a kid.

It stank of musk.

Dozens of animal companions where already inside.

And none of them were happy to be consigned to cages while their human companions got to enjoy the party.

Licorice’s lip twisted.

Goldy glared balefully at the attendant that approached as soon as they entered the tent.

The two cats remained above it all.

Rino smelled Cara’s fears as the young woman bombarded the attendant with questions and demands.

Until the other woman finally had enough and snapped.

“They won’t fight if you have them trained properly! And would you take off their weapons and armor. The king guarantees that they will remain safe until you return to reclaim them. Any damage or loss will be compensated beyond their value.”

“Oh, you’d want them unarmed and defenseless, wouldn’t you!” Cara snapped back.

“They have teeth and claws!” the attendant said flatly.

“Be nice,” Kare warned.

Though to which one was unclear.

Rino itched to get back with the rest of the pack.

They were vulnerable in the grand hall by themselves.

She leaned down to whisper in Cara’s ear. “No choice. Trust them to take care of themselves.”

Cara looked like she was going to argue for a moment before bending down to huddle with her animals.

Words were spoken.

Barks.

Meows.

Screeches.

Rino helped the young woman disarm and remove armor from her pets.

“Don’t worry. They’ll be okay. They’re strong and smart,” Kare patted Cara on the head as they watched Licorice, Goldy, Cinnamon and Chocolate led into cages.

----------------------------------------

“The fuck?” Sgt. Mouthy said around a mouthful of something pretentious, expensive and not at all filling.

“Sarge?” Prim said, a spell at her fingertips.

“Relax, ranger. You don’t want to be the first one to start blasting. And I just recognized someone I haven’t seen in six years and across big ass ocean. She doesn’t look a day older,” she muttered.

Prim followed her sergeant’s gaze to a table at their nine o’clock.

The Watch.

She recognized a few of them from Hanna’s seminars.

“Um… who?”

“Why don’t you ask Neckbeard and Cake, they know,” Sgt. Mouthy snorted.

“Perv,” Wichita elbowed the latter.

“What’s the big deal, lots of women wearing fancy dresses,” Chandra eyed the sea of rich people dining all throughout the massive hall.

“Yeah, it’s whatever,” Neckbeard shrugged.

“You’re staring the worst,” Wichita said.

“I was just trying to figure out why that one young lady is the only one at their table not in armor of some kind. Instead, she’s in a little black dress,” Neckbeard explained.

“Cause she doesn’t need armor,” Prim said.

It seemed pretty obvious.

“Ah, distraction,” Neckbeard nodded sagely.

“Worked on you two,” Wichita said.

“What I want to know is where is the king?” Chandra nodded at the large, circular stage in the middle of the hall.

It was completely empty.

“Dinner’s halfway done.”

“More like a third. Three courses down out of nine, plus dessert,” Tuxedo Cake studied the menu.

“You kids always babble like a bunch of babies? You scared or something?” X-Ray grunted.

“No, shut up!” Chandra snapped.

“Then why you ain’t eating,” X-Ray said.

“Like you are,” she countered.

“Not cause I’m scared. Cause I don’t want a heavy stomach.”

“Look around,” Sgt. Mouthy began. “You can tell who’s expecting some trouble by how much they’re leaving on their plates.”

“What about those guys?” Chandra glanced at three, dirty, disheveled men a few tables away.

Sgt. Mouthy’s hand flashed a sign.

Shut up about them. Danger.

There had been a lot of that.

Somehow the sergeant knew which tables they had to watch out for and which ones contained allies.

The ratio leaned heavily toward the former, but Prim was surprised that they and the Watch weren’t completely alone.

She had tried and failed to find the Furies.

That meant that their table must’ve been on the opposite side of the central platform, obscured from her view.

“I hate waiting,” Neckbeard said glumly.

“Hey, ese, least you trying out some good food,” X-Ray said.

“You just said not to eat,” Chandra said.

“Eating and tasting is different.”

“Oh,” Wichita snapped her fingers, “that’s why you’re spitting some of it out. Disgusting, but it makes sense.”

The dinner continued as expected for the next few courses.

Hundreds of voices lent to the vague buzz of conversation hanging in the air.

The lights suddenly dimmed, silencing them all.

A bright spotlight shined down on the empty stage.

It moved with a great groaning sound.

Prim’s hand snapped up.

Her nerves were too tight.

She almost thought it was a monster.

As the circular platform opened she’d learn that it was much, much worse.

----------------------------------------

Waleed huddled with his friends.

He rubbed the stump of his missing pinkie finger.

They stood in an enormous garage filled with expensive cars.

The kind he had only seen on TV or in pictures when he had been a child.

To think that such things still existed…

They stared out the open door into the dark and stormy night.

Rain lashed the ground while lighting flashed and thunder boomed, periodically causing some of their number to jump and cast about with wild eyes at an attack that only existed as ghosts in their minds.

It didn’t help that the towering, bronze, god of a man hadn’t explained anything.

He had merely grunted that they were to put on warm clothing and rain coats before going to the garage.

It hadn’t helped that the first thing he did after he followed them was to plant that enormous, obsidian axe into a Ferrari, cleaving it almost in half.

The man had remained there, standing with arms the size of Waleed’s thighs crossed across a chest about thrice the size of his own.

He clung to Cal’s promise of safety.

A light in the sky appeared.

Faint.

Flickering in the streams of rain.

They knew it from the moment they had spotted it.

“Praise Allah,” someone whispered.

“Magus,” Waleed whispered.

She came out of the darkness, untouched by the rain.

“My friends,” she smiled.

Her eyes looked so tired.

“I’m sorry for abandoning you for so long.”

“No, you saved us. It is we who are ashamed for being too weak to prevent the Americans from using us against you,” Waleed said.

Each reached out to clasp the magus’ hands and arms, to embrace her.

The ten eyes roamed over them protectively, widening when they fell on missing fingers.

“I carried hope that the odious man had faked—” she hook her head, “I’ve truly failed you all…”

“You will take us to safety?” Waleed hadn’t liked the look in the magus’ eyes.

“I cannot. Others will see to you. I have been promised. The king owes me, us, a debt. I intend to collect for you and our friends no longer with us.”

They protested, but it was fruitless.

“I regret that we aren’t strong enough to fight by your side,” he replied with tears in his eyes.

“There are few who are… for this battle. Go with Allah, live. I will see you when the task is done.”

The magus turned to the towering man.

“I will keep them safe until it is time for them to leave.”

“My thanks.”

“Fight well, magus. Let those that hold chains burn under your many-eyed gaze.”

The magus floated back into the sky, swallowed by the dark storm.

Long minutes passed.

“We must hold on to our courage.

“The magus fights for us. Should we not do the same?”

“We’re too weak. We all remember what happened when we tried to fight the American slavers.”

Waleed half-listened to his friends’ whispers. “What are we waiting for?” he finally worked up the courage to ask the man.

The man loomed over him like a dreadful statue.

“That.”

They heard it before they saw it.

Great wings beating against the wind.

A terror out of any nightmare descended.

A scale-armored beast stared down at them with reptilian eyes.

A huge mouth grinned, revealing dagger-like teeth slavering with hunger.

Broad wings folded on clawed talons as the beast planted them, holding its body off the wet ground, spiked tail lashing behind it.

It was then that Waleed noticed there were things hanging off the beast’s torso and riding on its back.

What he took for spines moved and took shape.

People.

They unhooked themselves from harnesses and rushed toward the open garage.

A tall, lanky young man smiled at them before bravely stepping up to the tower of muscle. “You must be Tlaloc,” he nodded, “I’m Sgt. Spiritwalker, Rayna’s Rangers. We got their transport out of this shithole.”

What?

Waleed looked from the sergeant to the huge beast and back. “I’m sorry, excuse, but did you say that—”

“I was told there would be another,” Tlaloc rumbled.

“They’re dropping some people off. They’ll be here in a bit. Where’s the rest of them? The… uh… collared,” Sgt. Spiritwalker said.

“They will be out shortly,” Tlaloc turned and stomped back into the mansion. He had received the signal. It was time.

“Hey, listen, guys, I know she can look scary, but Belladonna is the nicest wyvern we’ve brought with us,” Sgt. Spiritwalker said.

Waleed nodded.

“So, um, I’d suggest you get on board,” he lowered his voice conspiratorially, “even thought its raining, riding on the back is way better than being harnessed below. So, let’s get you guys harnessed up.”

Inside the mansion, Tlaloc regarded the two dozen women and girls with the hateful collars around their necks.

They were already wearing their warm clothing and raincoats as per Cal’s last commands.

He approached the closest one.

She smiled vacantly.

He gingerly grasped the thin, metal collar with his fingers.

The warmth pulsing through it sickened him.

He did what he had itched to do since the first day he had set foot in this vile nation.

The magic lightning coursing through his body flared into the collar, counteracting its magic.

He burned it out with all his rage at being forced into a life of chained servitude.

The collar tore like tin foil in his fingers.

The woman blinked.

Tears welled in her eyes.

He stepped back in an attempt not to frighten her further.

He remembered what it was like to be freed from the collar.

The woman gasped, her head darting to the others in the living room, to him. Like a frightened rabbit ready to bolt.

Tlaloc held up his hand.

Thunder boomed and lightning cracked.

When the smoke cleared, Bitterman stood in his place.

“Please, I know what you’re going through,” he pointed to the discolored scar around his thin, wrinkled neck. “There is no time if you want freedom. Explanations for later, yes, niña?”

“Okay,” the woman nodded.

“You know them and they know you,” he gestured to the other collared women and girls.

“Yeah, I mean, yeah. I remember. It’s a nightmare. I don’t know. Is this real? Was that the nightmare? Or is this it?”

“Calm,” he soothed. “I must transform again to free them. You must keep them calm.”

Tlaloc quickly freed them one by one.

Screams turned into quiet weeping for some once the first woman he had freed managed to explain their situation.

He led them to the garage.

More rangers on their flying beasts had arrived.

Sgt. Spiritwalker exchanged a nod with Tlaloc.

The affable young man explained the way to freedom was being borne aloft into a storm on the wings of scary looking beasts.

That had gone over well, but in the end it was not a surprise that the formerly enslaved would take any chance to leave the place that had violated them for so long.

Wyverns and drakes leapt into the storm bearing frightened passengers until only two remained.

The youngest, Tabitha, clung to the leg of the first woman, Tlaloc had freed.

Her knuckles were white around the clothe.

Tears filled her eyes.

“Jeez, she’s got the snot and everything, poor girl,” one of the rangers whispered.

“Might have to hit her with a sleep spell,” another responded.

“Probably for the best.”

The last drake grumbled at being forced to wait in the rain, finally having had enough it walked over and stuck its head into the garage.

The little girl screamed.

“Damn it, Maverick!” the rider shook his fist.

He unhooked himself from the saddle and jumped down, approaching the little girl like he would a skittish rabbit.

“Hi!” he waved. “My name’s ‘Valentine’, this is my friend, ‘Maverick’, she doesn’t like rain.”

The little girl buried her face in the woman’s side.

“She’s… we’re… not comfortable with all these men around,” the woman said.

“What? There’s like half dudes, half ladies,” Valentine said before fully understanding what the woman meant. “Aww, shit, sorry. Well, uh… Maverick’s a girl,” he tried, “she knows that people aren’t food… unless they’re bad guys… yeah, um, she’s definitely going to eat a few of these slavers after we take you to a safe place. Doesn’t that sound good?”

Tabitha looked at the drake, who for her part kept her mouth closed.

The little girl nodded.

“So, I think it’ll be less scary for you if, my friend over there, Panda,” he pointed to another ranger, “made it so you can sleep through the flight.”

“It’s okay,” the woman smoothed Tabitha’s hair. “I’ll be with you the whole way.”

“I’m going to tell you a story,” Sketchy Panda said. “It’s about a brave little rabbit…”

Tlaloc felt the soothing magic in the young man’s words.

Tabitha’s eyes drooped quickly.

By the time the short story finished she was out in the woman’s arms.

Valentine took the girl and strapped her into the saddle in front of the woman.

“No harm will come to her,” Tlaloc loomed over the slim young man.

The ranger swallowed the lump in his throat. “If that happens, it means the me and Maverick are already dead.”

“Good.”

He watched them climbed into the storm.

His will entered it.

The wyverns and drakes, the rangers and their passengers, would be just that much stronger and braver.

“That’s pretty cool,” Sgt. Spiritwalker said. “How much mana does it cost?”

“I don’t know magic as you do.”

“Okay, well, we have our orders. The mansion is clear, yeah?”

“Of all that matter.”

“Hey, it’d be cool if you could boost all of us. It’s going to be a bloody night.”

“Rely on your own strength first.”

“Just a thought.”

Sgt. Spiritwalker gave the signal and two dozen rangers melted into the night, concealed by the rain and darkness.

Tlaloc returned to the mansion.

The basement door.

There was no more need for the act.

The door splintered at a light touch.

He descended into Lord Don Wynn’s foul basement dwelling where he had performed hundreds of deranged acts on countless women and girls.

The fat man lay in his bed where Cal had put him in coma.

“You don’t deserve this mercy.”

He reached down and crushed the man’s head.

He wiped the filth off his fingers on the man’s sheets.

He reached out and called his axe.

It crashed through the ceiling.

He threw it straight up through several floors to hang high above the dead lord’s mansion

A thought pulled him to it.

His body tore through the hole, widening it.

There he stood, upon a platform of hardened rain water.

“All those who hold chains, dies,” he intoned.

Red lightning lanced into the mansion, tearing it asunder.

The rain god leapt away.

He ached to punish this degenerate nation, but even he understood the wisdom of their plan.