"And for that, we thank you. You will be installed in your mate's house directly afterwards." Kelly started to splutter, but Ophelia charged on. "Now, everyone close their eyes and take a deep breath."
Ophelia didn't have to use the alpha whip in her voice to get you to do things. She sounded so eminently sensible and confident, you found yourself doing it anyway.
I felt it as soon as I clasped hands, a weird buzzing hum that only grew more intense when the circle was completed.
Show us this truth of yours, Ophelia said.
Very well. I just hope you adhere to the human concept of not shooting messengers.
Our consciousnesses arrowed up and out of the prison building, spearing towards the tall fences at the centre of Sanctuary. We brushed past the alarms and locks, went hurtling through thick trees, down the paved path towards the gate. Dogs—like the ones I'd seen through the fence line—jerked their heads up as we passed but the many soldiers milling around the gate paid us no mind. I saw the barracks, the training rooms, everything just before we dove into the pool of bright blue light that swelled between the huge standing stones.
This is my first view of an alien world, I thought, but I didn't get to enjoy or dwell on it. We skimmed over grasslands and forests, the view beginning to blur as we sped faster and faster. Then we came to the settlement, a dark stain on the surrounding green landscape. Tall buildings made from stone had been created in narrow streets, all hidden behind a heavily fortified wall. Black-clad warriors of the ilk I'd seen in the vision strolled the ramparts, though their clothes were now of well-tailored leather rather than furs. Some toted the crystal spears I'd seen in my vision, others had longbows hung across their bodies, but there were others who were more worrying. I scanned the soldiers, many of them holding some form of firearm, and it was like looking at the history of guns in some kind of extremely realistic diorama. Old fashioned flintlocks were held alongside what looked like World War II rifles, a few were even frighteningly modern. The other thing I noticed, as our view of the Volken settlement grew, was the sheer numbers. This is not enough men? I thought.
Too many women, too many mouths to feed. We settle in one place, farm rather than make war, Sylvan said. Let me show you. We dove down past the blocky buildings and under the cobblestone road, past a layer of dirt and stone to a haven below.
I'd expected cages, or a concentration camp environment at least, so to say I was unprepared for what was there was an understatement. I felt the surprise of all the women when they took in the rich surroundings. It didn't necessarily follow any specific interior decor rules, more a random accumulation of what looked like beautiful and expensive items from many different cultures. But there were plentiful well-appointed rooms, expansive beds covered in silks and satins, and plush couches swimming with cushions. And the women were just as decorative. Each one of them was dressed finely and had the kinds of well rounded limbs and shining hair that spoke of being well kept. And beautiful. While the women of Sanctuary were no slouches, those here had the same kind of supermodel looks as the guys.
"Bring cage 3's contents to Lian's daughters. They've gone into heat again." A man in an impeccably tailored black suit of steel reinforced leather armour gave an order to several men who didn't look like they were Tirian. They seemed somehow smaller, weaker, and more ordinary looking. "The little bitches are screaming down the walls again, and I have no time for that."
"M'lord, cage 3 has only just returned from mating." A man wearing a stained white coat and toting what looked like an old school medical bag stepped forward. "I'm not sure the subjects will survive being put to the women again."
His lordship considered the advice for a moment. "And who would you suggest? Lian has twelve daughters, and the bloody cows seem to heat sync."
The man blanched, obviously not prepared for this question, his eyes darting as he stammered, "Well, uh...perhaps cage 5?"
"Make it so. And, Doctor, I don't want to hear any more whining about the state of the breeders. Keep them alive, or you can join them."
The man nodded, ducking his head to hide his expression, a curious mixture of surprise and anger. "Come, come," he said, gesturing to the other servants. "We need to get cage 5 to the bitches' box."
We followed the doctor down a winding set of narrow corridors, the decor considerably less pretty down here. It was dark and dank, with condensation dripping from the stone ceilings. The group of them walked past spacious metal cages which a glance inside revealed multiple men. They were Tirian, you could see that from the fine bone structure and bodies, but the usual strong musculature was wasted here, leaving only very lean, hard frames. They looked as if every spare inch of flesh had been whittled down to leave only the essential. And whittled they had been. Many lay in heaps on the stone floors or against the walls, like they'd been dropped or thrown rather than resting.
"Get them into decontamination before they go to the box," the doctor said. "Lian is a lord here and will not be pleased if his daughters return with lice."
The slight men each pulled what looked like a cross between a cattle prod and a magic wand from the wall. One fished out a large ring of keys from his pocket and strode over to the cage marked 5.
"No!" a prisoner said when they arrived. He slammed his fist against the metal bars, something that had the jailors pausing. "Rhydian is sick. He can't go, we'll not go until he gets some help!" The key holder made a hesitant step forward, but the man bashed the bars again. "Get that fucking miserable excuse of a 'doctor' over here now. He's been coughing up blood for days."
Grey, Ophelia's voice said. It was completely disembodied, but I didn't need to see her face to hear the pain in it. That's Grey and Rhydian. You sent them to this!
And how many of the older ones are men you sent, Mother? We've all used this as a means of maintaining control in Sanctuary. None of our hands are clean.
And where is Max? Your own brother? Show me, Max.
Ophelia appeared to be able to direct our vision, as we instantly began to rise, just as the doctor hurried over to the cage.
"I propose we make a series of strikes against the mine. They have large numbers of their troops here, and we can begin a fairly risk free campaign of reducing those numbers before the major assault. We can pick off their troops in relative safety and also cut off their major income supply."
We hovered over a large room, a huge table placed at its centre with a map dominating its surface. Men in the same kind of leather and steel uniform that his lordship had worn stood around it, with one exception. I knew it was Max as soon as I saw him. He looked thinner, there was a little grey in his brown hair, and his eyes were green rather than grey, but the resemblance to Finn was clear. He sat o
n a simple wooden chair, his wrists bound by manacles, the lines on his face made it seem that the frown he wore was a common expression.
"This is correct, prisoner?"
The men all turned to Max, one stepping forward when he didn't respond.
"You made an overture to your jailor, said that you would provide information in exchange for medical treatment for one of your number, and your cage being excused from the next heat cycle. I believe, Lian, it is your daughters who are due to come into heat next?"
A dark haired man with a thick beard nodded. "Yes, all twelve of them, if they are to be believed."