Lila's Locale

The final bit of the Deleted first scene of Savage.

—

Anleeh stepped through the archway into the Zinah quarters. It felt wrong to be so completely clothed in these rooms and so Anleeh stripped down to his leather knee length leggings, adding his clothing to a pile near the door.
He made his way into the great room and then stopped to watch Sesah and Moregon sparring.

In a way it was like watching night and day fight. Moregon was strong and sturdy, thickly muscled, hard to hurt and even harder to fell. Sesah was light and small, with a deadly grace and precision.

Sesah raised his leg and kicked out, catching Moregon in the stomach. Moregon grunted, doubling slightly, but grabbed Sesah’s leg, wrapping his big hands around the other man’s ankle and swinging him, tossing him half way across the large room. Sesah hit the stone floor hands first and rolled, rising once more and raising his hands, positioned to fight again.
Rohaj, a man of few words, grunted. Clearly that was the signal to stop, as both Sesah and Moregon relaxed. Rohaj and Tamlohn stood shoulder to shoulder against the wall of punishment devices. Floggers, canes and paddles outlined their shadows. The dim light of the chamber glinted off Tamlohn’s red hair but left Rohaj as a great pool of shadow. The dark skinned man moved forward as the others did and Anleeh was stuck by their differences.

Rohaj, with his dark skin, shaven head, and ruby and gold piercings was like a dark night, while Moregon, pale with bright gold hair, was a bright afternoon.

Sesah was pale like Moregon but had long dark hair, folded into a knot at the top of his head, quiet, watchful black eyes and an elegant fighting style, unlike anything Anleeh had seen before coming to serve in the Temple.

Without another word they settled onto the floor, seated or lounging on the cushions and bedding which were scattered around the chamber. Tamlohn picked up a bottle from the floor beside him and uncorked it. One by one they passed it around, each taking a deep pull of the heavy distilled liquor. Stretching out one arm to take the bottle from Moregon, Anleeh took a sip, pressing his hand to his belly as the liquid hit his stomach like acid.

“That crap gets worse every time.”

“Drink more, it hurts less.” Sesah looked pained as he said it.

They went a few more rounds with the bottle, until Tamlohn raised his hand to stop the passing. Anleeh cocked his head and considered the former Prima Zinah. The enslavement to the Priestess had been hard, but none of them had been unhappy, or so he had thought.

Since his marriage, there was a lighter set to Tamlohn’s shoulders. Though the responsibilities of Kingship should have weighed him down, he seemed to be reveling in his new-found responsibility. Or perhaps it was just that he reveled in the freedom of marriage to the woman he loved.

Squashing his jealousy, Anleeh waited for Tamlohn to speak.

“It has been hard day.”

They all nodded their agreement.

“We are different now. Many things have changed, in a short amount of time. But what cannot, and must not, change, is our brotherhood.”

“Our strength is in our unity,” Sesah added.

Slowly each man nodded, Anleeh the last to do so.

“I am glad to see we are in accord, but that is not why we’re here tonight. Tonight we are here to support one of our own.”
Tamlohn looked at Anleeh, who stiffened.

“There is no need for us to have met on my account.”

“There is. Do you forget that we too know who you were before and what it means that we ask you to return?”

Anleeh looked away, dipping his head.

“Your rage is something I will never forget,” Rohaj’s voice rumbled from the dark.

“That rage is all I was.”

“No, you were always more,” Tamlohn protested.

Anleeh shook his head. “You don’t know what I was.”

“I, we, know who you are now. And who you are is stronger than who you were.”

Unable to sit, Anleeh rose to prowl through the room, wishing there were windows he could look out of. He finally stopped at the horizontal thick wood post of the presentation bar. Without conscious thought he moved to the center of the bar, his place by rank.

He placed his hands on the bar, bracing himself so that he would not bend over the bar as a matter of habit.

“If you are right, then this will be a test of who I am now. But some of what I was must return, if I am to do what is asked of me.”

“We know this, she knows this.”

“If I become what I was, I will not return.”

“You must return,” Sesah protested. “You are the Chief Justice.”

“If I become what I was, none of that will matter. I will use all I have learned among you and I will become more terrible than I ever was.”

“That will not happen.”

“We will not let that happen.”

“None of you can go in my place, and nothing save that can assure I will remain the man you know.”

“Cryessa will keep watch for you, keep watch over you.”

“And if the Queen finds you to be in trouble, we will come for you.”

“Aye.”

Anleeh turned, surveying the men, his former brothers in slavery, now his brothers by choice. One by one he looked at them, reading resolve and promise in each face.

“Then I will trust that if I return to what I was, you will come for me, and end me.”

More of the cut First Chapter of Savage.

“Have you forgotten what I was when I came to you?” Anleeh asked.

“No.” The Queen replied.

“Your faith is stronger than mine.”

“My faith will be enough for both of us.”

Forgetting their new roles, new lives, Anleeh dropped to one knee and pressed his forehead against the back of her hand, showing his obedience but giving her no response.

“This is a request from Queen to loyal subject. If I must I will make it a royal order, and if that still is not enough, I will make it a plea from a friend for aid in a perilous time.”

Anleeh raised his head to gauge her expression. She was deadly serious. Had it been left at requests and orders from the Monarch, he would have eventually given in but might have managed to bargain a good tussle out of the other men before acquiescing. Her friendship was one of his greatest treasures; he could not deny her the help she needed.

“You are a cruel and underhanded bitch, Majesty.”

Cryessa grinned. “I only do what I must.”

Anleeh kissed her fingertips and then rose, and leering down at her. “How far does that dedication extend, Lady?”

Cryessa looked him up and down and slowly licked her upper lip. “Is there something else I might do to… persuade you?”

“Persuasion is best when it is creative.”

“I pride myself on my creativity.”

“A boast.”

“A promise. You have sampled of my creativity.”

“That I have, but there are improvements that could be made.”

“Improvements? You criticize my technique so soon after raising the subject of your arrival to the Great City? Perhaps you forget your lack of both creativity and skill when first you came under my patient and merciful tutelage?”

Anleeh threw his head back and roared with laughter. “Patient tutelage? I think you gave me four or five days before you expected me to be a cock-master.”

“Precisely.”

Grinning and continuing to toss the innuendo-laden comments that marked their relationship, they made their way down the steps and back into the Palace. Just inside the door, leaning against the wall in an unconvincing imitation of relaxation, was High King Tamlohn.

Anleeh stopped when he saw the High King, his anger trying to reignite, but the embers had been smothered by his time with the Priestess.

“The matter is settled and will be discussed no more.” With a quick stroke to Anleeh’s forearm, Cryessa made her way towards the High King, only to stop as he straightened and moved past her. Anleeh tensed as the other man came near. When they stood no more than a hand span apart, Anleeh met the High King’s eyes, prepared for anger or jealousy. He was not prepared for sorrow.

“Tonight at moonrise,” Tamlohn whispered.

With that the High King turned and move back to the High Queen. She shot a questioning look between them but allowed High King Tamlohn to lead her away.

* * * *

That night, just before moonrise, Anleeh handed the reins of his mount to one of the Temple stable lads. He took a moment to center himself, making a point of dusting off his cloak before he looked at his former home. The Temple stood before him, massive and graceful with its multitude of crescent balconies and warm stone. This building, and what it represented, had once been the only beacon of hope in a land that suffered under a terrible tyranny.

All that had changed when a rebel force from the North swept down like a bitter wind, overthrowing the old King and taking the Temple hostage. Despite the eventual outcome, Anleeh could barely bear to think upon that which had preceded the dark sacrifice of the King and High Queen. As a warrior, he hated remembering the despicable deception of the rebel force. They had first pretended friendship, claiming the usurper-King’s as a common enemy, and when the Temple army gave them trust and fought alongside them the rebels had turned on them.

He along with his fellow Zinahs had raced back to the unprotected Temple, and the High Priestess. Trapped, their army immobilized by the invades, the Temple surrounded and the lives of everyone in the Temple at stake, they had agreed to give in to the Rebel leader’s demand and sacrifice Tamlohn’s life in exchange for their continued safety.

Mouth bracketed by grim lines to match his grim thoughts, Anleeh made his way through the main doors of the Temple, his feet following a path he’d tread for many years with no conscious effort.

He could still hear the High Priestess’ tortured screams as they watched Tamlohn shot down, an arrow to the chest. He could still feel the echoes of her grief from the entire week they had believed Tamlohn dead, and, shamed as he was to admit it, could still feel the jealousy and anger that had been borne when Tamlohn’s imminent death forced him and the High Priestess to reveal their secret love.

But the Goddess had blessed them all; the Rebel leader was Tamlohn’s father, frantic to discover the fate of the son he had seen taken captive in battle many years before. On the day of their wedding, Cryessa learned she was not to marry an unknown Prince of the North, but her And it was on that same day that Anleeh’s slavery had ended.

When he reached the High Priestess’s chambers, Anleeh passed through the door. The spell that guarded these rooms had not been changed, and so he entered with no problems.

Once inside he turned down the private hall that led to the slave quarters. The rune inscribed on the archway at the end of the tunnel had been bricked over. Anleeh had stood with Cryessa as each brick was laid in place.

She had ordered it done to materially demonstrate the changes that had come into their lives with the ending of their slavery, the ending of the Zinahs. What Cryessa had not considered was that she was cutting them off from their home. Only two days after the wedding, reeling from all that had happened, Anleeh had wandered back to the Temple, looking for comfort, and come across Moregon slowly chipping away at the mortar between the bricks.

Then next night when they returned to finish the job, they found Sesah waiting for them. Over the course of the week all save the newly crowned High King had returned, and when they quietly let Tamlohn know what they had done he arranged to meet them, saying not one word to the High Queen.

Anleeh stepped through the archway into the Zinah quarters. It felt wrong to be so completely clothed in these rooms and so Anleeh stripped down to his leather knee length leggings, adding his clothing to a pile near the door.

Edits are underway for Savage and the first round of edits cut out almost 10 thousand words! Yikes! However, that’s good for you, because I’ll post all those lovely deleted scenes for you. For the next few days I will post the first chapter, which was cut.

—-

“Majesties.”

Anleeh bowed low before the double throne, sweeping his cloak out to one side, displaying his most correct and courtly behavior. Eyes obediently on the floor, he raised his voice slightly to be sure they heard his next remark.

“How may I be of service, Majesties?” He bit off the last word. If his overly formal behavior hadn’t conveyed his anger, his tone did so.

“Anleeh, enough.” There was both resignation and anger in the High King’s voice.

Anleeh straightened. “Have I displeased you, my King?”

Rohaj, General of the Temple and Royal armies, standing just behind the High Queen’s throne, took a step forward. Anleeh looked at him.

“Do you threaten me, General?”

“Do you challenge the High King and High Queen?”

Anleeh glanced at the silent High Queen, squashing his guilt. “I have stated my position.”

“You stated nothing, you flew into a rage and stormed out of the room.” This uncharacteristically snide comment came from Sesah who stood in the shadows of the throne room at Anleeh’s left.

Anleeh’s anger swelled and he addressed his next comment directly to the red haired High King. “I am amazed how quickly my brothers have turned against me.”

The High King’s hands clenched into fists on the arms of his throne and each of the other men in the room stepped forward.

“Enough.” The High Queen’s quiet command froze them all.

Anleeh wondered if there would ever come a time when he would not respond to a command from her.

Regally, she rose, her long dress falling in thick folds to her feet, the long sleeves bound tightly down each arm. Atop her carefully styled tresses, the jewel-encrusted crown winked in the light that poured in from the windows set high in the walls.

“Anleeh, come with me.”

With a soft stroke to the High King’s clenched fist, the High Queen descended the steps. Anleeh waited for her to cross the chamber and then stepped aside, prepared to fall into step behind her, but the she halted beside him.

“You walk behind me no longer.” She held out her hand.

Anleeh took a deep breath and, as he released it, looked into the sky blue eyes of the High Queen. Eyes locked to hers he offered his arm.

Together, they made their way out of the Palace and across the courtyard to the stairs that led to the guard’s walk circling the inside of the wall. The steps were too narrow for them to walk together and so she preceded him, heavy skirts held up in ring-bedecked fingers.

She led them to a spot on the wall equidistant between two guard posts, ensuring privacy for their conversation. She leaned against the top of the wall, which was waist high when standing on the walk, on folded arms.

“I know why you object.”

Anleeh turned so that he too faced out, focusing on the view.

“Anleeh, I hope that you know what you are to me, what value you have to me.”

“I am the Queen’s man.” Though he was known for his quick wit and sometimes sarcastic manner, his words were sincere. For all that had happened in their world, his loyalty to the her had not changed.

“No.” The High Queen grasped his arm, turning him to face her. “You are my man, Cryessa’s man. Even when I had no name, that is who you were.”

Anleeh read the truth in her eyes. “Yes, Majesty.”
“Cryessa,” she reminded him.

He smiled. “That I still cannot bring myself to say, Priestess.” He used her old title, reminding them both what their relationship had once been.

“Very well, you may call me Priestess. But do not let the others hear, for they will all start too.” Anleeh grinned wider at having something his former brothers in slavery did not. As if she knew his thoughts, and Anleeh wondered if she didn’t, High Queen Cryessa rolled her eyes.

Cryessa brushed her hand down his arm in a friendly touch. Side by side they stood in companionable silence, looking out over the kingdom. For the first time in a thousand years it was united. The single greatest change that would save the people of this kingdom had been made, but there was still much work to be done.

“It is not without a heavy heart that I ask this of you.”

Gently detaching his arm from her grasp, Anleeh leaned against the wall once more. Cryessa slid one hand beneath his cloak to stroke his back.

“You are the only one who can do this, the only one I trust to do it.. That is why I ask.”

“There are others you could send.”

“There are, but I do not depend on them as I do you.”

“Send one of the other Zinahs.”

“Former Zinahs,” she reminded him.

“As you like, former Zinahs.”

His words were snatched away by a sudden gust; they fell silent as the air howled around them, each hearing their own thoughts in the wind.

“Please do not ask this of me.” His plea was snatched away by the dying wind, as if nature itself rejected those words from one such as he, a warrior and bright man of justice.

“Had I any other way, anyone else who could, I would not.”

“What if I…”

“You will not.”

“How? How do you know? How can you be sure?”

“I know you, in all ways and in all things, I know you.” She smiled and it was like the sun, pure and bright and steady. “I have faith in you.”