Tuya and Darrakh stayed together deep into the night, her sharing stories that Yaha taught her while he listened and asked questions. They spoke mostly of Isihla, the land of their mothers, of lightseers and shadows, of a white palace on a lake surrounded by sand, of a nation ruled by a strong woman who was the daughter of Norali.
Many, many times she found herself losing track of her words and gazing into his eyes, sharing smiles hidden in the dark from the rest of the world. It was the best night of her life, not that there was strong competition as far as good nights went. Even still, just as nothing bad lasted forever, neither did anything good. As time drifted toward the end of all things, they both knew that Darrakh needed to return, needed to resume the role of tamer in the morning.
The parting embraces seemed to never end as neither wanted to let go. It did not matter if she got tired or if her arms wanted to stay still after the long day of training and holding. What mattered was how happy she felt with his lips on hers, how much brighter she saw a future with him in her life. Dreams of that white palace on a lake and of going home to a place where they would not have to hide their love. Dreams of not being alone in a world where every single man she ever met wanted to hurt her.
They would continue meeting at dark, hiding their love during the day, and Darrakh would do everything he could to avoid suspicions, observing the other tamers to survive as his protector taught him. In the light, things must go on as they always had so that in the night they might find freedom in each other’s love. Tuya looked forward to these good nights and these hard days of working toward the brighter days ahead. She could see them now, holding hands through it all.
The elation burned in her soul, carrying her deeper into the night as she waited for Yaha to return. It sustained her when the worry built up, when the bugs chirped and the creatures of the night moved about and still Yaha was missing. Tuya waited near the mouth of her dark place, scanning the Hollows for Yaha, and not finding her in the region, not finding her mind scent among the millions who resided beneath the Spire. She feared the worst, opening her mind to the cries of the tamed creatures of the world.
At once, thousands upon thousands of voices called out to her, begging and pleading for freedom, too many for her to help with a lifetime of time and infinite energy and will to break the links that bound them. Signals carried across the world, from faraway lands where Gurgaldai’s tamers organized their conquest, partaking in his foul vision to make everyone just one. So much oppression, so much desolation, and her night with Darrakh felt like a distant past, a dream of a world better than the one she found herself in. A million voices screamed out for help and it felt like she was the only one who could hear them, the only one who can help them.
Yet, Yaha was not among them, and Tuya feared even worse. Mahagan men and women, loving bondpairs, people with stories and lives, hopes and dreams, fears and faults, covering the beach tainted red, little Khula crushed in the mud, Sarnai battered by Tuya’s own hands, the images rushed at her, telling Tuya to expect the worst. Again. Again. And again. She was a fool for believing otherwise. A million voices screamed out for help and it felt like she could help no one.
Curling into a ball, crying in the dark amongst the mushrooms, moss, spiders, and snakes, Tuya tried to hope. Her eyes dimmed, tears blurred her vision, and fears scattered her faith that she could ever be free of misery. Yaha did not return no matter how many times Tuya begged Celegana, begged Norali, even pleaded to Yaha’s Zafrir, Dalis, and the Fourteenth. A million voices screamed out for help and Tuya felt like one of them and yet completely and utterly alone among them. And Yaha did not return.
In her deepest despair, she thought of begging Gurgaldai for help, or at least for an answer if Yaha was already killed. She wrestled with the desperation, knowing that Gurgaldai would only use it to chastise her, to control her, to force her to oblige his wicked visions of tomorrow and feed his actions of today. Still, she wanted Yaha returned and knew not what to do beyond running around blind, screaming her name among the millions in the Hollows. That would end with her being caught by tamers, beaten, and raped, probably like Yaha already was. A million voices screamed out for help and Tuya turned them off, silenced them in her mind, unable to bring even one to freedom.
*************
Tuya! Tuya!
It felt like tiny hands jostling her, shaking her when she hurt, and trying to make her move when she wanted to curl up and fade away.
Tuya! Tuya!
Not now, Tuya thought. So tired. Tired of everything.
Tuya! The dark woman needs you!
Tuya jolted upright, scrambled to her feet, blood rushing to her head, dizzying her, she staggered toward her spear. Masarga! Where is Yaha?
Tokhun has her!
Where!
Tuya merged minds with Masarga. Through the little girl’s eyes, Tuya saw Yaha fighting the tamers, kicking and shouting while big Tokhun held her from the back. Tamer Yadakh carried her spear, early morning light shining on them, showing a Yaha covered in bruising and several streaks of blood.
Some tamer shouted, “Kill her!” The other tamers picked up the call. Tokhun fought to hold Yaha still but she twisted and resisted. In the end, he was too strong. He lifted her up and slammed her, head first, to the ground, then pinned her down. “Kill her! Kill her!”
Tuya screamed in her body, screamed for it was too late. No amount of running or wishing would get her to Yaha before Tokhun crushed her skull. Like always, there was nothing she could do but watch another loved one die. Masarga tried to comfort her, this little girl who knew nothing but pain, tried to give Tuya strength. Yet, all she felt was the familiar bleakness, the futility, the deep hole in her that grew bigger each time she lost, and it felt like she always lost, and would only ever lose. Today, it would be Yaha and tomorrow it would be Masarga and the day after Darrakh. Loss was the true nature of her life. Masarga cried and looked away from Yaha, curling into her tiny hollow, as Tuya’s misery seeped to her.
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Great, Tuya thought. All I do is make things worse.
“No! For all she has done, a quick death is too good!” The voice broke Tuya’s heart.
Masarga turned toward Darrakh, peeking out of her hollow to see him drop his furs around his ankles. He stepped out of them and toward Yaha and Tokhun. “I go first.”
Laughter erupted and the tamers hooted and hollered like it was a contentious first blood. The whole gaggle of them hurled insults and threats at Darrakh while Tokhun restrained Yaha. The tamers dropped their hides and volunteered themselves to be the first rapist.
Tuya seized the moment, returned to her own mind, and ran. She ran, ever clinging to the faintest vine of hope. She ran, not allowing herself to contemplate failure. She ran, telling herself that Darrakh was not the evil tamer but doing this to give Yaha a chance to survive. She ran, ran until the cacophony filled her ears, until tamers gathered around a Yaha with the last vestiges of her captain’s uniform torn to shreds, exposing her.
The tamers themselves were in various states of undress, breeders limp or erect, arguing over who would go first and insulting anyone who dared volunteer themselves. If not for their need to always appear the strongest, to dominate, they would have already been taking turns. Monsters that they were.
For all that, Tuya was nearly out of time. Tokhun, a massive man of obvious Gidiite descent, pale-fleshed, muscled, with hair like the red, falling leaves of the season, worked to pull down his hides as he restrained Yaha, and none dared oppose him as the first claimer. Not even Yaha. The mighty windjumper froze on the ground and gave off almost no mental pulse, as if her mind was someplace else and her body left behind.
“Stop this! Now!” Tuya flashed her spear, halting at the edge of the circle of tamers, ready to throw death at Tokhun’s thick neck.
Tokhun eyed her, hungry, his violator pressing into the hairs of Yaha’s groin, his big hands binding Yaha’s forearms to the dirt. “The dark one is ours. Punishment for the death of Tamer Semug. Go back to your cave, beautiful one, before we toss you beside her.”
Tuya clenched her spear. Her anger shifted from loud and desperate, the anger that murdered Semug in a moment of heat, to a cold, bitter hatred, one designed to savor the pain of monsters like Tokhun. She wanted to dismantle this beast, piece by piece, slowly and surely hurting him for his arrogance, his cruelty, his ignorance. Her voice went low, commanding through confidence rather than vehemence. “You will release her or you will die.”
“Gurgaldai commands we do this,” Tokhun said, a tiny fragment of fear leaking through the overarching sense of his glory. “The Great Ezen says you have displeased him and you must lose the one that you cherish. If you try to kill me, you will fail, and you will be thrown beside her and given your just rewards, Chosen.”
Tuya ground her teeth, wanting to kill every tamer, all the way up to Gurgaldai, wanting to sunder them all from this world. What was the point? She could not escape without Yaha’s help. Better to fight now than wait to be taken to the Spire, to live the rest of her life having watched another loved one suffer while she did nothing to stop it. Tuya stepped forward, ready to charge, when a bare, limp Darrakh stood between her and Tokhun.
Seeing him, his green eyes, his face like hers, made her pause. “We must follow the commands of the Great Ezen,” he said. “Fighting us will not change your dark one’s fate. Only his word could stop us now.”
Tuya straightened her back and untensed her grip on the spear. Her mind scrambled for the right lie, one that would keep Yaha safe, one that would not be revealed as false. The best lies sounded truer than the truth and were ones that could not be disproven by scared men. The best lies became truth in the way they reshaped lives. “As his Chosen, I commune with Gurgaldai ezen Celegan every morning. We linked mere moments ago, before I came here. I shared with him my reasons for what I did. He told me that Tamer Semug was too weak for this world, that I did well to kill him and claim my power as his Chosen. He told me to kill any tamer that interferes with me.” Tuya pointed the spear toward Darrakh. “Must I claim my power again?” She glared at Tokhun. “Stop now or experience the wrath of the Ezen and his Chosen. If you obey now, I will not tell him of your failures. Delay, and perhaps you too are too weak for this world.”
Tokhun growled, shoving against Yaha as he pushed himself to his feet, took a few strides from her, his erect breeder swinging in front of him. He glared at her, his lust for her flowing from his mind larger than his violator. Tuya circled around Darrakh, gripping her spear as she approached Yaha, not daring to be more than a moment from shifting into empagong form to ward off their assault.
“What if she lies?”
Tuya spat toward him. “I do not lie, Tamer Yadakh. Why don’t you link with Gurg and tell him you think that his Chosen lies.”
“All khorota are liars,” he said. The tamers murmured their agreement, their minds stayed rooted in their skulls, however.
“Big words coming from you. You who ran away from me yesterday, piss dripping down your leg.” The tamers hooted, laughing, mocking their fellow. “Go on,” Tuya said, shouting over the din, “Question Gurgaldai ezen Celegan, Tamer Yadakh.” Her stomach burned and she wanted to fall to her knees and cry, praying that the tamers were too afraid to seek out their master and risk his wrath. “Do it.”
“Go on, Tamer Yadakh,” one of the tamers said. A new tamer, one Tuya knew not the name of yet, one monster out and another one in. “Do it, piss baby.”
“I will do it.” Darrakh closed his eyes and Tuya loved him more than ever. No stream of tamer consciousness flowed from his pretty head. Darrakh waited, all eyes on him, several moments before he fell to the ground, shouting and begging for mercy.
The other tamers, mortified, sieving fear like a broken bowl, like a little girl carrying a weird rock losing all its water back to their tamer, scurried to their hollows, leaving Tuya with Darrakh and Yaha while every eye in every hollow retreated. Darrakh howled in agony, so convincing that Tuya winced with sympathy for his not-suffering.
“We will leave her alone,” he cried out. “We obey! We obey!”
Yaha pulled at Tuya’s hand, trying to get up. Her face was a ruin of its former sharp, dignified features, all swollen and purpled, her strong body covered in bruises and cuts. Tuya sensed her agony as Yaha’s spirit stopped numbing the pain and returning to life. Things were broken inside of her, some would take time to heal, some could never be healed.
“Come on,” Tuya whispered, taking Yaha’s hand. She had to support Yaha’s weight, and the old woman was no fall feather. Tuya strained, tears misting her eyes not for her exertion, leading Yaha away from Darrakh’s feigned convulsions.
Her beloved tossed around on the ground, frantically spasming, his arms and legs tossing around, his neck whipping to and fro, as he whined and pleaded with obsequiousness incarnate. For Darrakh, she suppressed a smile, trust taking root in her mind, gratitude flowering in her chest. For Yaha, she frowned, helping her limp back to safety, to freedom.