These creatures were completely under his control. It was sick.
316 spoke up, “Sir, I found trail. And wagon. Can I have reward?”
Zens turned his attention to Scar Snout. “Certainly.” His smile gave Marlies the chills.
Scar Snout hopped excitedly from foot to foot, like an eager puppy. “The lake! Can I see pretty lake again?”
So, somehow, Zens gave them pleasant dreams.
“I won’t have tharuks stealing from prisoners. That rucksack and the stone were mine.” Zens stretched a hand out in Scar Snout’s direction, fingers splayed. “Disloyalty cannot be tolerated.”
The eagerness died on the little tharuk’s face. Its eyes widened.
How had Zens known? Had 555 told him? Or had he seen Scar Snout’s memories?
Slowly, Zens’ hand tightened into a fist in midair. The tharuk’s furry hands clutched at its neck. It gurgled and choked, then slumped to the floor.
Zens laughed, his thick corded neck rippling. “Triple Zero,” he said, “Clean up, please.”
“Gladly,” 000 answered, voice dripping with relish. The enormous tharuk strode to the wall and selected an axe. Striding to the small tharuk, it hacked off its hand above the number on its wrist. Dark fluid pooled on the floor around the stump, near the tharuk’s scarred snout.
Near the shiny end of the cavern, 000 pulled a lever, and the entire wall was flooded with yellow light. It was a glass wall, filled with fluid, holding trophies of Zens’ kills. Hands. Feet. And smaller things —ears? Fingers and toes? 000 threw Scar Snout’s hand over the top of the glass. It landed in water, its inky trail swirling as it bobbed on the surface, then sank.
Marlies retched, depositing her gruel and undigested bread at 555’s feet. The tracker was oblivious, stuck in its dream world.
“Ah, weak stomach, little rider?” Zens crooned.
As tall as most men, Marlies had never been called little before. She rose from the floor. Now that she was closer, the malice in his gaze froze her marrow. Zens’ irises were yellow, ringed with deepest blue. He smiled slowly, like a predator showing its teeth to transfixed prey.
She was not prey. “So, Commander Zens, we finally meet.” She had to survive to find Zaarusha’s son. Marlies planted an image firmly in her mind, holding it there.
§
“Tell me what you know.” Zens mentally probed the woman’s mind and found the holding cave. Gray stone, water dripping down the back wall. Clever, then, and a talented mind-blocker.
Zens had broken many riders. It only took a session or two of persuasion to get them gibbering the realms’ secrets. This one would be no different. He flicked his hand, sending the woman flying across the cave and smacking into a stone wall. She slumped to the ground, dark hair splayed around her and her bandaged arm at an odd angle.
“Ready to talk?” he mind-melded.
No answer. She could hear him. He knew it. But he only got that same dank cave. Zens tugged on the air with his hand.
The woman slid across the floor toward him. Her head graunched and bumped on the stone. That should help her talk. He lifted his hand so her body rose into the air, all the while battering at her mind. Then he flipped his palm and slammed the woman face-first into the stone. Blood dribbled out from her face.
Still that same cave in her head.
This one had tenacity. What secrets was she keeping? Zens scratched his chin. He didn’t have forever to mess about; he had to get back to developing his new beasts. Therein lay his hope. They would help him conquer the dragons of Dragons’ Realm, not this stupid rider.
Then again, now that he’d softened her up, perhaps it was time to up his mental game.
§
Gray stone. Water dripping onto green moss. Sunlight angling in. Hard damp floor, cold. Marlies kept the cave in her mind, not daring to focus on the pain, the agony, the—
Stone walls. Hard floor. Gray, everything gray, even the bread. No, focus on the cave.
A chill started in her head, flowing down her neck and over her torso. Zens. She pushed the image of the cave back at him. The moss was lush and green, verdant—a sign of life in this awful bleak hell—so she kept the moss, the dripping walls, in her head. She would not let it budge.
“I know you can hear me. Can feel me,” Zens’ words slithered inside Marlies’ head. “Let go of the cave. Relax.”
A rush of cold engulfed her mind. Her head and neck. Her torso. Oh, gods, so cold, she was going to die. Marlies gritted her teeth. The cave. She kept it solid, despite him hammering her.
Then fire came. Flaming across her face, making the skin sear and bubble. The sensation was so strong, so real, Marlies bit her lip to stop herself from screaming. The stench of charred skin filled her nose. No! Cave. Gray. Stone. Moss. The fire washed across her, turning her body to cinders, leaving her gasping. Cave.
Then Zens spoke. “Take her away. No food or water for three days. That’ll weaken her.” His boots crunched on stone. He yanked her hair, pulling her face up from the floor.
Cave.
“Until then, little one,” he sneered. Dropping her head, he left.
000 snapped its fingers and woke 555, who picked Marlies up, tossing her over its shoulder.
“Zens says this one is cunning,” 000 said to 555. “Put her in a cave with a barred door.”
555 carried her away, and still, Marlies kept the cave in her mind.
Sure enough, as they headed down the corridor, Zens tried battering her mind again.
The Creature’s Ploy
Hunger gnawed at the creature’s belly. For a week now, he’d thrown the human’s putrid rats into a pile at the rear of the cave, where they’d lain stinking. Soon, live rats
