Tales of the Southern Kingdoms (One Volume Edition) Read online

  No! Ramesh swore he'd bring the beautiful rebel back. He'd tame him and break him and make him his bed slave for the rest of his life! If only he had his father's power...

  Something dark started calling him, whispering promises in his ears.

  ***

  "Manjeet!"

  Ashlee rushed into his arms and he held her tight, closing his eyes, drunken with her perfume. He was free! Happiness was overwhelming.

  "Oh, honey, I thought you'd never come back!" she whispered. "I was terrified at the thought they might kill you! Are you all right?"

  "Yes," he pulled back to look her in the eyes. "I'm fine." All pain was forgotten in the joy to be with her. He kissed her passionately and again lost himself in the world of love.

  The wedding was simple and their love grew with each day... and each night, each kiss, each caress or whisper or moan or giggle.

  Until Ramesh came, with an overwhelming number of community members: they now wore blood red turbans and had scimitars. Something must have changed in their setting, as they looked fierce like the king's army.

  The village thought they were under attack, but the leader's smirk told them maybe it wasn't so.

  "What do you want?" Manjeet asked, squeezing Ashlee's hand.

  "You belong to the Sect," Ramesh answered. "Our Goddess is bloodthirsty now."

  Manjeet gulped down his terror. "Your father let me go. I'm exiled."

  "The Goddess wants you. She punished my father for letting you go. The High Priestess Chandra and myself are in charge now. And the Virgin Seeress spoke: the Goddess wants more blood."

  Ramesh had always been cold and calculating, so the lack of sorrow and hint of triumph in his voice didn't surprise Manjeet. But the fact that a good leader had been killed and his worst enemies were now ruling, that was very bad news.

  He let go of Ashlee's hand, desperate and defeated. He couldn't risk her or her family, her people. He looked her in the eyes, knowing he'd never forget her.

  "I must go, beloved," he said.

  "Don't. They'll kill you," she said, serious.

  "They'll kill you too if I resist," he replied. "Don't wait for me this time. Remarry..."

  "Never."

  He held her tight and kissed her, then turned his back on her, her village, their brand new home.

  Two guards grabbed him and dragged him away. He could feel Ramesh's lustful eyes piercing his back.

  ***

  Ramesh stared at the fountain of dark liquid to the right of the temple entrance with a frown. He knew it was that thing calling him, feeding on his emotions and giving him power. When they had built the Temple of the Goddess, that fountain had been left in a corner, untroubled. Nobody dared touching it.

  Without thinking, he plunged his hand in the liquid. It was warm and purred as his fingers wiggled in it. He could hear sighs and moans of pleasure, as if a woman was enjoying his touch.

  He took out his hand. It was dry. He licked it, but there was no taste. What was in that fountain wasn't water. And it was powerful. When he had plunged his knife in his father's heart, he had felt invincible. The voice of the Goddess had praised him and given him strength.

  "I want Manjeet," he whispered, filled with lust. "I want him all for myself."

  "He's full of light," the husky voice answered. "You can only destroy him."

  Well, he wanted to tame him and break him, so what was the difference? Besides, Chandra wanted to sacrifice him on the Goddess altar...

  "His blood will give you more power," the voice assured.

  "Enough power to get rid of Chandra?" he asked, interested.

  "Yes."

  He stared at the liquid one last time. "If I can't have him, I might as well use him to gain control of the Sect," he decided.

  The disembodied voice chuckled. "You're wicked, Ramesh. But you're the best to teach your people the power of sex and blood..."

  ***

  "The Goddess wants you, Manjeet. You shall join her in the Afterworld."

  "I hate you," Manjeet whispered, glaring at Chandra, held still by two muscled guards.

  She scoffed, while Neha repeated in the same, toneless voice of her visions, "The Goddess wants you. And the people want you dead."

  "Since when do we do human sacrifices?" Manjeet asked with a frown.

  "Since you upset the Goddess and made her bloodthirsty," Chandra replied. Her white clothes had been replaced by a blood-red sari with a black bodice. Everybody in the underground city now wore red and black instead of white. "She requested Puddra first."

  "And you performed the sacrifice?" he asked with disbelief.

  "No, Ramesh did," she scoffed. "The power generated by his father's death was unheard of. The statue of the Goddess turned all black."

  This explained the new colors of the people clothes.

  She walked to him. "Surrender," she whispered in his ear. "And I'll save you."

  "Never," he replied through clenched teeth. He had enough of being her toy. He didn't want to know the new direction his community would take, not with Ramesh and Chandra at the head.

  "You're a fool, Manjeet," she said coldly, backing away. "You shall have the end that you deserve."

  They took him to the temple, where indeed the statue of formerly gray granite had become totally black. Ramesh waited by the altar with his sadist smile, and Neha offered him a drink. He was about to refuse, but her eyes, now focused on him, were pleading, so he nodded. She put the chalice to his lips and as the sweet juice went down his throat, he knew she had drugged him.

  Drums and horns, chants and prayers started clashing in his head. Unaware of his surroundings, numbed and dazed, he let them take him to the altar. The statue of the Goddess loomed over him and seemed alive.

  He saw Ashlee, but she vanished before he could call her. Deaf and blind he slid into oblivion, wondering where this new custom would take his doomed people.

  ***

  Ramesh stared at Manjeet lying drugged in front of him. He licked his lips in anticipation and raised his knife, then plunged it.

  The blood was sweet on his tongue.

  "And now, let's party!" he announced, aroused by the surge of power the spilled blood had given him.

  "Ramesh, are you out of your mind?" Chandra protested.

  He laughed at her, drunk with the power. "I think it's time our Seeress loses her virginity," he said, grabbing Neha's hand. The girl whimpered, trying to free herself from his grip.

  "You will not touch her," Chandra put herself between him and the terrified Neha.

  "She's mine!" He screamed with rage.

  Lightning struck the High Priestess, creating a hole in the ground. Neha jumped back, and so did he in front of the new feature of the temple: the Goddess Pit opened on eternal fire. Red and black. Blood, fire and darkness. No more light and boring white clothes. The power of sex and blood.

  Ramesh started laughing, exhilarated.

  The Sect started chanting the glory of the Bloodthirsty Goddess, feeling her power. Lust filled all hearts and the orgy started.

  Only Neha seemed immune to the call. Her eyes darted around, trying to look for a way out. Ramesh was on her before she could move, and forced himself on her.

  "Welcome to the Temple of Pleasure," he whispered in her ear when he was done, ignoring her tears.

  "You... wicked bastard..." she tried to push him away, managing only to excite him again.

  "When I'm finished with your training, you'll be more expert than an old whore," he promised her.

  He could feel her light and it was intoxicating. But there was also darkness in her, which was even better. He'd have her babies and create new rules. And eventually the outside world would belong to him.

  The Slave

  Kushan was curious to meet the slave sent in by his brother-in-law Arjun of Rajendra. Not that he needed another woman in his Concubines Garden, but it was a common gift among kings, and Ajrun had sent a note saying he'd probably be surprised by this particular
woman, because she came from a country none of them had ever seen.

  So Kushan was curious to meet his new slave – and ready to forget her the morning after.

  He found her asleep on the canopied bed, which was not only uncommon, but also unheard of. Hadn't she be told what her duties were? Wasn't she in the least worried or curious about her destiny?

  She looked common enough, dressed in the southern clothes of slaves and concubines, and for a moment he wondered what her day clothes had been in her own country. Then again he felt offended by her lack of respect: she was a slave, she was supposed to eagerly await him with open arms (and legs)!

  He sat on the bed, frowning, and patted her shoulder to wake her up. She rolled on the other side with a sigh.

  "What the..." At loss with words, he leaned over her to check if she was indeed still sleeping, and saw her eyelids slowly open.

  "Wake up!" he ordered, his patience gone. "Do you understand me?"

  She slowly turned to look at him. Her eyes were the color of the sky, and she stared at him undaunted. "If you speak slowly, yes, I understand you," she said with a slight accent.

  "Good. Have you been told your duties?"

  "Yes," she rolled on her back, sort of offering herself.

  "And weren't you told to wait for me?"

  "I'm sorry, the journey was long and uncomfortable, but this bed is the best I ever lay on."

  She kept her eyes on him way too boldly.

  "You shouldn't look at me," he snapped, uneasy.

  "Sorry." She averted her eyes with a shrug. "I wouldn't be staring if you weren't such a pleasant sight."

  "What?" he exploded, outraged. How dare she? "Where do you come from?" he demanded. He had never heard of a place where women were so outspoken.

  "The Queendom of Maadre," she answered.

  "Oh." He was too puzzled to comment. What was that strange word supposed to mean?

  "You heard of it?" she looked surprised.

  "No."

  "That's what I thought." Now she sounded relieved. She looked outside of the window, thoughtful. "It's beyond the sea, on the side of Rajendra and Akkora. Not even King Arjun had heard of it. We have one Goddess and our queen is her descendant."

  A Goddess! Kushan remembered his father's frown when he had told him the story of his childhood friend Puddra, who followed a different faith. His father had had to chase him from Zarquon and lost a friend, so he forbid him, his son and heir, to have such a friend: they were of royal blood, semi-gods, they shouldn't need friends. Not something a young boy wanted to hear, but Kushan had accepted it and told the same thing to his own son and heir Neeraj a couple of years earlier. He also told him about the Sect, and Neeraj had noisily sighed, but obeyed.

  Disturbing news had come lately from the Sect, they weren't the same people his father had exiled anymore. Puddra was dead and his son Ramesh ruled a growing community of bloodthirsty, sex crazed members.

  "My father dealt with a minority adoring a Goddess," he said a little suspicious about the slave. "They're hiding somewhere in the mountains now."

  "That's not us," she assured. "Ours is our mother, literally. Our first queen, Amazonia, was her daughter."

  "A ruling queen?" he couldn't believe his ears.

  "That's why we call it queen-dom instead of king-dom," she said, looking at him as if he were dumb. It seemed very obvious to her, but he had never heard that concept before.

  This explained her behavior, though. A country ruled by women. No wonder she was so outspoken and could look him in the eyes without blushing.

  "Well, you're in my kingdom, now," he said. "And you're my slave."

  "Of course." Again she seemed to lie down as if offering herself, but her eyes were teasing. She averted them, smiling to herself. Was she laughing at him? Well, he'd show her who was the master! He really wanted to subdue her, now. And taste her.

  He leaned to kiss her lips, brushing them with his. She grabbed his head and pulled him closer, opening her mouth for a much deeper kiss than what he had intended. She tasted good, and she definitely knew what to do with her tongue. He found himself breathless in her embrace and pulled back, panting.

  She sort of followed him covering his neck with butterfly kisses while her hands explored his torso through his night caftan, as she slowly moved down.

  "What are you doing?" he panicked. Only the most skilled courtesans could do that to him, and she had barely arrived. She was obviously no virgin, but she still needed his permission to do what she was attempting to do. He was king and semi-god, he was supposed to order her around. She shouldn't follow her own initiative. She was a foreigner, the Gods only knew what she could do to him! His slaves had always been well instructed, but this one seemed to need taming first.

  She pulled back, stared at him and lay back down. "Sorry." She averted her eyes, looking bored.

  He decided he wouldn't let a moody foreign slave deter him from having his pleasure. But by the way she looked at him afterward, he wondered if he could have had more by letting her follow her way.

  ***

  Bekah was bored. Life in the Concubines Garden was boring. Kushan had been boring in bed, or at least had been during his first night – and hadn't come back since. She was probably too much to handle for him anyway. He wasn't used to Huntresses – and he'd be the perfect prey.

  If she had met him back home, she'd have hunted him down; and if she had found him in someone else's Apartment, she'd have requested him immediately. He was darn good looking and well endowed, she could have lots of fun with him in bed! Except he was king and she was a slave, so she had to find a more subtle way to capture him.

  But first, of course, she had to lure him back to her bed, which didn't look easy. There were dozens of beautiful women in the Garden, and a queen, pregnant with her fifth child. Kushan came every day to visit his favorite concubine, Meghana, almost a second queen herself, but never bothered with Bekah.

  Bekah had seen Meghana and the other women dance. She truly loved the southern steps. The dancers were so sensual in their bodices and swirling skirts, she decided she wanted to learn a new skill. At least she'd keep herself busy and wouldn't be so bored in the royal palace of Arquon.

  Meghana was the best of the dancers, so she thought to ask her. "Can you teach me to dance?"

  "No." Meghana upturned her nose with scorn. Was she jealous? She saw the king every day and she was jealous of her?

  Bekah shrugged. She didn't like those meek women's company anyway, so she went outside and imagined to have her bow and arrows. She planted her feet on the ground and stared at her target, a blossoming cherry tree, imagining to be at an archery contest. Better keep herself exercised anyway.

  She took the air-arrow, pulled the air-rope, aiming her air-bow and shot. Center. She shot again. Miss. She noticed the branches of the cherry tree went over the garden walls. She smiled, preparing another shot. Hit.

  "What are you doing?" Meghana sounded shocked. She had moved from her cushioned carpet to check her, though. She probably couldn't imagine Bekah with breeches like men, which was what she wore when she went hunting in her home country. Hunting uncatchable men, not animals. She loved to tame those savage runaways.

  "Shooting arrows," she answered, aiming again. Miss. "You don't want to teach me dancing, I thought I'd keep myself busy with my normal exercises."

  Which reminded her she had her own personal dance. Time to get rid of the air-bow and get hold of the air-sword!

  "Do you want to see mine?" she continued, winking at the stunned Meghana. "It's called the sword dance." She grinned at Meghana and the other startled women who had followed her, swinging her invisible sword as if she were dueling with someone, and slowly retreating towards the cherry tree.

  "You're crazy!" Meghana looked horrified.

  "No, I'm bored," she replied. "Therefore I'm leaving."

  "But you can't!"

  "Watch me."

  Climbing a cherry tree was as easy as back home. S
ome friends had nicknamed her Monkey because she was so fond of climbing trees. She quickly reached the wall and jumped down on the other side, chuckling at the sound of the women's alarmed screams.

  ***

  Meghana looked devastated. She blamed herself for the attempt made by the foreign slave to escape from the Garden. It took Kushan two good hours to calm her and reassure her it wasn't her fault. The foreign slave had been captured and returned to the Garden, no harm done.

  "But will you punish her?" Meghana pleaded, still teary from the unsettling event.

  "Of course," he promised.

  He lightly kissed her and left, thinking about the foreigner who had dared trying to escape – a woman, alone! – and had given him such a deep kiss he could almost still taste it.

  He could have ordered his chief eunuch to punish her, but he decided to do it himself. He had avoided her for a week and kind of dreaded seeing her again, but her escape attempt forced him to remind her she was his property now.

  He went to her room and found her brooding.

  "Why did you try to run away?" he asked, stopping by the door and observing from a distance. She didn't have any weapons, but she looked dangerous. No, she was dangerous, because he had no idea of how to handle her.

  "I was bored," she shrugged. "Meghana refused to teach me to dance."

  "She says you know a very strange dance."

  "Your soldiers are more likely to recognize it."

  "My soldiers?"

  She scoffed and stared at him. "My lord," it sounded like a mockery, "I can use a bow and a sword better than most men. In fact, I could ask you to set me free if I win a duel with a man of your choice."

  "No." He was adamant. "Women don't touch swords."

  "In this country. In mine, the army is all female. Men don't touch weapons unless in the Arena. They do only the hard labor. Or, if they're good looking," her look of appraisal put him in that category, apparently, "they are used for reproductive purposes."

  "What kind of country is yours?" he asked, outraged.

  "It's the Queendom of Maadre," she shrugged. "We treat men like you treat women. Sometimes worse, as most consider them animals. They are not allowed to show their faces and bodies in public..."