The story up until this point in Chapter 4:
Illyria is sharing a memory with Z’nnek to explain why she must be returned to the sun-kissed lands to right egregious wrongs.
The other sexual playthings, men and women, were all adorned with scars and bruises in addition to the chains and phallus brand of their slavery. They were Elysians, Azzarreans, and many other races. Their tormentors pulled on the chains that dangled from uncomfortable-looking piercings that connected all their erogenous zones. At least two of the victims had fresh, bleeding wounds.
No one else, not even the victims, seemed to object to the abuse.
But I did.
My spurs jangled a warning through the pavilion as I strode through the jumbled furniture, kicking clothing and other debris aside. I grabbed a fistful of the blond sadist’s hair, rolled him over my hip, and heaved him across the room. I didn’t bother to watch him fall.
The free highlands have always rejected the Elysian custom of slavery. We have never kept slaves. Any who escaped to the highlands were free men and women. Woe unto any slave stalker who ventured into the hills seeking a reward for an escaped slave. I’d put down one such bounty hunter myself last year. I’d dreamed of someday leading the Temple to abolish such customs in Elysia.
So, it wasn’t the slavery that surprised me. Not really.
I wondered what Z’nnek would think of me and my naive memories.
Tales of depravity among the priesthood in Elysia, which were spread by traveling minstrels, had seemed absurd, exaggerated. Temple Judges shouldn’t have allowed it. Most highlanders dismissed them as fanciful rumors born of bardic imagination. I certainly had. Who would tolerate being abused so? And why? The stories and innuendo in songs and poems had been mild by comparison with this flagrant abuse here and now. Romantic tales of bedslaves sold in Azzar and elsewhere who seduced royalty and priests for emancipation were nothing like the reality. Life, it seemed, wasn’t always the way it was written in a book or sung to a pretty tune.
The Temple Guards took my full attention as they recovered from their surprise. They drew their weapons and weaved their way toward me through the mess. Somewhere out of sight, a man howled. The stench of burning flesh briefly overpowered the acrid incense. I drew my spatha and unhooked my bola, setting my back to the nearest tent wall. I idly twirled the bola and grinned at the nearest guard.
If you liked this brief selection, read or listen to the entire book to enjoy Illyria rise from the grave to queen of the underworld.
Raven Queen, Arise is available wherever ebooks, audio books, and print novels are sold.
If you’ve read the book, please do me a solid and review the book!
