Archon’s surveillance tech pointed to a dot amid the green. Archon had given in to technology a little, because time was of the essence. He couldn’t let the human get away. The idea that she was down there on the planet, thinking she had managed to best him was completely insufferable to him.
Archon was not used to being shanked or shamed, and as a result he was very determined to set what he considered to be an unnatural wrong somehow right. He no longer merely wanted the human. He needed her. He craved her, as only a king with a bruised ego can crave possession of a wayward subject.
His head was full of plans to best the human, and things he would do to her when he had her in his grasp. He would fuck her, of course. But that was not enough. There would be more, so much more. He would make her wail in pain and beg for his mercy. He would break her down until she trembled whenever she was in his presence. He would chain her. He would keep her captive. He would toy with her until he grew tired of her - and then he would discard her.
Even as he thought these terrible things, Archon knew his heart was not in all of them. But he had to pretend it was. Even for himself, the illusion of brutality had to be maintained at all times. Mercy was weakness in the eyes of the common man.
“There what is? That could be anything. A tree. Or a shrub,” Archon scowled and squinted at the place he thought the soldier was pointing.
It was taking much longer to locate his quarry than he had imagined it would. The infrared scanners had not been operational during his abduction of the villagers, because the heat from the dragon sent them into overdrive and damaged them. That meant they were limited to much more traditional means of finding a person - looking at pictures taken from orbit and comparing movements across them.
“Enhance,” he said, as much to himself as to anybody else. He tapped on the screen and with each tap, the picture zoomed in and the resolution somehow became higher, until the image of a young human woman with brown eyes and brown hair, her face daubed with orange clay, and a small bone ring piercing her right ear, and another through her septum, was revealed.
There she was. As plain as day, albeit slightly pixellated. He felt a pang at seeing her face again, still contorted in that rebellion. She was looking up in the captured image, no doubt staring at the ship which retrieved him. He expected to see an expression of horror twisting her pretty features, but if anything she actually looked somewhat… annoyed?
Was it possible that the dragon attack and everything in the aftermath including the king’s own attempt to claim her had seemed like an inconvenience?
Archon had seen the faces of the other villagers not only when they first saw the dragon appear, when he had swooped over their village and made his presence known. There was terror in their eyes, not this ferocity which almost matched, if not exceeded his own rage.
In the image, it was obvious that she had managed to lace her clothing back together in a manner of speaking. It looked as though she had cut strips from the back in order to make little ties to hold the front together. She was resourceful. Quick on her feet. A survivor.
The rage of ego he had previously been consumed by started to abate as something more powerful began to creep into his consciousness: respect.
The last place Archon ever expected to find his match was in the eyes of a feral little human rebel who had no right to gaze on him with so little fear. Though the image was nothing but a still frame, a grab from the past, he felt his ardor quicken, a rush of desire which only served to intensify his lust for the hunt.
Unaware of the king’s reaction, the surveillance tech flipped to another frame. In that picture she had turned. A dark image could be seen on her left shoulder.
“What is that?”
“Enhance!” The surveillance tech declared, and once more, the image was enhanced to reveal a tattooed image of what appeared to be a small mammal.
“So that is my prey,” King Archon said. “A girl with face piercings and a dog tattoo.”
Chapter 8
WELCOME TO THE HOTEL VEZGAZ
NO SOLICITORS
NO RELIGIORS
NO SHIRT, NO SHOES, NO SERVICE
NO ELECTRONICS
PROPRIETOR RESERVES THE RIGHT TO TELL YOU TO FUCK OFF
The sign was as welcoming as any sign like it could be. Iris pushed her way into the bar, elbowed her way through the patrons, and finally claimed a place at the bar.
“Gittoutoftheway,” the bar tender growled at the brawny men who had been monopolizing the expanse where alcohol was available. “There’s a lady present.”