Princess of Zenina Read online

  The name rang a bell in his mind. “Zadina, Zadina wanted to buy Charles. Zadina, Marina had said hadn’t got nice plans for him.”

  He reached down picking up the disc from amongst the broken crockery and put the chain over his head. Touching the disc he felt Marina’s mind. On the stairs looking down Charles stood. He added his much louder mind voice to Bromarsh’s. “Marina, Help!” he said “Zadina is stealing the Major.”

  Chilka moved up behind the Major.

  “You’re a bit drunk Major, Halabala will have you washing the dishes to pay for this mess!” Chilka joked desperately. He caught on quickly, play it cool. Pretend nothing has happened, play for time. Chilka with her arm in a sling could not fight this hypnotic Amazon.

  “I think I’ve had one too many,” he said sitting down again. Halabala and her assistants righted the table and spirited away the mess. She could not risk offending Zadina. The table was recovered with a fresh cloth and laid again. Chilka sat down at the table with Bromarsh.

  “We were leaving, weren’t we Major?” said Zadina. “Come along,” said the sultry voice. He tried to find something to say, tried to look away from those beautiful eyes burning into him, but he was standing again, turning to her.

  He wanted to yell “No, I don’t want to go with you,” but what came out was “Yes, we were leaving.”

  He took the offered arm and they walked to the door.

  “Zadina, you should try a real man, not one of your puppets with you pulling the strings. But you’re utterly frigid. Your mind is a cess-pit. Your beautiful body is cold as ice. Leave the Major. It’s me you want to hurt, isn’t it Zadina?”

  Charles sneered in a conversational tone with just a hint of menace from the door.

  “Get out of my way,” she growled.

  “With pleasure; but the Major stays.”

  “He goes with me.”

  “Marina won’t like it.”

  “I care that, for Marina’s likes and dislikes,” she said snapping her fingers. She made to push past Charles, but he stood blocking the exit.

  “Everyone’s listening, Zadina; tell them how you beat me, because I couldn’t please you. How I worked till the sweat ran from me and you felt nothing. Not until you took the whip to me. That’s how you get your thrills. Blood and pain turn you on.”

  “You’ve said enough. Get out of my way.”

  “I take no orders from you; I’m not frightened of you like your pretty Kurgian boys.”

  “Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought.” She lifted her arm bringing the back of her hand sharply down across his face, following through she shoved him brutally out of the way.

  Bromarsh and Zadina were through the door weaving their way between tables cluttering the pavement outside the restaurant, but Charles had delayed her long enough. The hover-car parked in the square bore Marina’s badge. Walking calmly towards them was Marina, still dressed in the hideous green plastic suit. Zadina stopped in her tracks and almost jumped back. Charles and Chilka were close behind. Halabala stood watching from the doorway wreathed in concern.

  “Marina,” said Zadina.

  “Auntie, you’re in looks today, silver always suits you,” smiled Marina.

  “Thank you,” Zadina said stiltedly, now moving forward but not taking her arm from Bromarsh.

  “I see you’ve met my Major,” said Marina with the emphasis on the possessional pronoun.

  “Yes, we’re going home,” said Zadina.

  “I’m sorry you must leave, but the Major was waiting for me, weren’t you, Bromarsh?” Marina said in a hypnotically level tone.

  “Yes” he replied slowly, “I was waiting for Marina.”

  “The Major is under my protection. You can’t have noticed, Auntie he wears my badge,” giving her one last chance to back down.

  “I noticed Marina. He’s going with me, he’ll look better with my tattoo. Do you want to make something of it?”

  “No”, said Marina, “I don’t want to make something of it...”

  Charles gasped, Marina could not back down now, but she had only paused.

  “But I think you do, don’t you Auntie Dearest? So why don’t we get it over with. You won’t look so pretty with your new haircut at the Banquet tonight. But I doubt if you’ll feel like going.”

  “Yes, it’s time Marina. Will here do?”

  They moved into the square. People arrived from nowhere and stood expectantly ringing the central area of the square. The best show in town was about to begin. Marina removed the plastic suit and the golden cross around her neck and Zadina stripped naked too. She casually tossed her bejewelled dagger into a wooden block set in the centre of the square. The crowd thickened as Zadina removed her jewels, handing them to an observer for safe keeping.

  Marina’s hair had been piled on top of her head. Letting it down she began to re-braid it. Zadina’s elaborately arranged hair took longer to unravel, but was braided into a long swinging plait that brushed her ankles, but did not reach the paving stones. Marina’s plait lay on the paving stones behind her trailing for a foot or two. The crowd hummed as they saw the rivals ready for battle.

  Bets were laid but Marina had the shortest odds.

  “If the crowd knew how I’d spent the last few hours the odds wouldn’t be in my favour,” she reasoned, “but fighting after a full meal is not easy either,” Marina thought but blocked it from anyone hearing.

  “How much has she had to drink?” she mentally asked Halabala.

  “Quite a skin full,” was the concerned reply.

  To beat Zadina and be capable of dancing that night, she would have to move fast. She must win, before Zadina shook off the excess of food and wine, especially tired as she was. Marina could not receive any major damage to be able to dance.

  Only twice had Zadina been beaten. Defeat followed Zadina’s attempt to take the throne, from her younger sister Kerina. Then 25 years ago she had forced a fight on a stripling of fifteen, who had lost but not easily. The girl awaited the knife to trim her hair only to find it at her throat. Vlama had bent Zadina’s arm back, preventing her from killing the young Marina.

  Vlama had thrashed Zadina soundly, beating her with fists and feet. Zadina begged her to stop, begged her to finish it. Vlama had picked up the knife and cut Zadina’s plait at the base of the queue. Then turning to Marina, she cut her hair too, throwing the severed plait in the face of the fallen, battered Zadina. Vlama had helped Marina from the square and thrown Zadina’s plait to the crowd, who now cheered Vlama and Marina.

  For 25 years they had avoided fighting, but Zadina had not forgotten her beatings. She had not forgiven her sister or her niece‘s friend Vlama. She had certainly not forgiven Marina. Zadina had tried to pick a fight with Marina many times over the years, but Marina had laughed the challenges off. Calling her Auntie and hugging her. Or pleading a pressing engagement, disappearing. Zadina, annoyed by Marina’s diplomatic evasion, tried harder to force Marina to fight.

  She shrugged off her insults and turned them to jests. Zadina challenged one of Marina’s friends. Marina said she would have to fight her own battle, walking away. Zadina accepted Marina’s friend’s apology, backing down. But Zadina had found Marina’s weak spot.

  Marina and Zadina’s preparations for fighting were complete and they stood wary, waiting for the other to make the first move. Major Bromarsh had been hustled along by Charles, to stand at the front of the crowd. His mind was clearing now from the fog of dullness Zadina had forced upon him. He shook himself and looked at Charles.

  “They’re going to fight, aren’t they?” he asked.

  “Yes, at last, they’ll fight,” he said with both worry and glee in his voice.

  “Will Marina win? Zadina looks very strong.”

  “You’d better pray she does win. If she dies, we’ll belong to Zadina.”

  “But I’m not a slave. This fight is over me, isn’t it? Zadina made me go with her.”

  “Zadina will soon make you one; it�
��s not really over you. Zadina has wanted to kill Marina for a long time and wants me in her power. She hates us both and I loathe her. I wish Marina would kill her, but she won’t. Evil like Zadina should be blotted out. Zadina is High Priestess of Demina; the goddess of the Fertility Cult, Marina won’t dare kill her.”

  “What are Marina’s chances?”

  Zadina swung at Marina, but she sidestepped. Zadina’s nails just scratched the cheek of Marina’s face.

  “Marina is a great fighter. Zadina fights dirty. I hope Marina won’t have any scruples fighting her.”

  Marina did not seem concerned about any moral code. She had dodged around, out of reach of Zadina’s thrusts and swings. Her movements were balletic. The differences between her movements now and those in the Palace would have been hard to spot. However as she placed her feet, it was with more concern about her centre of gravity. People rarely intend to knock you off your feet when you are dancing. Her ducking and diving enraged Zadina, who was finding this more tiring, than she had expected. So far she had not landed a blow. It is easy to feel brave with a load of alcohol in your gut, but even a Zeninan’s reflexes are slower. She did not even see Marina’s first blow coming.

  Zadina was watching Marina’s hands, the kick Marina gracefully swung at her crunched into her right hand, breaking several small bones with its force. Zadina nursed her hand and was more wary, she backed away but Marina’s feet came fast and furious. Another kick caught her in the shoulder. Zadina swerved avoiding serious injury, but her shoulder was visibly bruised.

  She was sobering up. The next kick she blocked with her left hand, concentrating on repairing her right. Marina’s foot swept up again, striking her in the pit of her stomach. Zadina went over on her back doubling up, but she was on her feet, before Marina could follow through.

  The crowd murmured, this was not Marina’s usual style of fighting, but they liked it. Why should Marina soil her hands on Zadina? Her feet were good enough for the likes of her. She was not fit for Marina to walk on, though Marina seemed to be attempting to. Marina particularly did not want to use her hands, as the hand movements of Classical Zeninan Dance were masochistic enough, without a few healing broken fingers.

  That morning she had painted her nails sea green to accentuate her hand movements in the dance. She did not want to break or chip her nails, loathing wearing artificial ones. Once she had broken her nails in a fight, before a competition. She had danced with a few artificial nails. Her embarrassment when one sailed off during a sweeping movement, hitting a judge in the eye, still rankled. Now she could see the funny side of it; but the judge had not been amused and had made slighting comments on those who required additions to nature.

  Zadina hit with the side of her hand to Marina’s neck. Marina blocked with her elbow. Grabbing Zadina’s wrist with both hands she flung her over her back to the ground. Zadina fell heavily, but was back on her feet. “Marina is much better than I expected,” she thought surprised.

  Zadina had watched Marina fight many times, but always against a less skilled opponent. Zadina had frequently argued that Marina had been lucky to win and her skill was overrated.

  What Vlama had said about Marina was true, she had no killing instinct. Going into a fight she considered the feelings of her opponent. She wanted them seen to have put up a good fight to lessen ill feeling resulting from her victory. Her desire to protect her enemy’s face, had won her many friends. Several rivals apologized to her afterwards, seeking her friendship. Marina welcomed them magnanimously and joyfully forgave them. Marina would not exult over a fallen opponent.

  By not making a bravura display out of her fights, it was easy to mark her down as strong, quick and lucky. The clown on the tightrope looking clumsy has more skill than the graceful acrobat who finishes with a flourish. Marina knew she faced a dangerous opponent, one who could beat her, if she was careless. Marina expected to win without being over confident.

  Zadina came in fast, feinting with her injured right hand, which was healing. She lashed out with her left, hitting Marina below the ribs. Marina dodged deflecting only part of the blow. She wobbled on her feet but remained standing. Zadina’s knee aimed a blow at Marina’s stomach but she gripped Zadina’s calf, pushing up and backwards. Zadina went over, hitting the ground hard. She rose but was winded. Marina did not wait, catching up the plait of her own hair. She wound it twice tight around Zadina’s neck, forcing her to her knees. She pulled hard on her plait tightening it, bending Zadina’s back until her spine stretched close to snapping the cord within it. Zadina’s fingers clutched at the loops desperately trying to break the strangling grip. Her face was turning black as she gasped for breath.

  Marina gestured with her right hand calling to the dagger in the block. It struggled out of the wood, flying to her hand. Another fraction more pressure, Zadina’s spine would break. Another minute and she would asphyxiate from lack of air, but Marina did not hesitate, pulling Zadina’s queue of hair from the loops of her own hair, she lined up the dagger to sever it.

  “Stop!” Kerina’s voice rang loud in the minds of all present. Kerina was materialising a few feet away from the fighters.

  “Separate,” she ordered.

  Marina paused, throwing the dagger down. She loosed her hair from Zadina’s neck and stepped away. She bowed to her mother, picked up her clothes, walking to the hover-car.

  “I’ll not stop my daughter again sister, don’t try again. Accept you’ve been beaten,” Kerina said but only her sister and daughter heard.

  Kerina stood over Zadina glaring. Zadina knelt rubbing the livid welts appearing around her neck, still struggling to breathe. Queen Kerina turned and vanished returning to the Palace the way she had come.

  Chilka did not accompany Marina, Charles and Bromarsh home. The atmosphere was awkward, Marina had won the fight, yet no one felt like celebrating. Feeling guilty for avoiding work on such a slight pretext, Chilka headed to the Institute to check on her deputy’s activities. Charles drove them home, Marina sat without speaking, shutting out their thoughts. Reaching home, she went upstairs without talking to them.

  “She’s always down after a fight, Major. Perhaps you’d like a swim in the pool? She’ll want to be alone for a while.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight – Aftermath

  They has a pleasant swim for an hour and then Charles advised Major Bromarsh to catch up on his sleep. Bromarsh gratefully agreed as Charles left him to seek out Marina. He knocked at her bedroom door, entering ignoring the “Go away and get out,” that shouted simultaneously aloud and within his mind. Marina lay on her belly on the bed. The bed was wrecked; the pillows had been hurled in all directions. One had been thrown with such force it had split and tiny flecks of down floated in the air. Some glass ornaments had been flung at the wall, the carpet was littered by tiny shards of glass.

  Ignoring the risk to his bare feet Charles walked to the bed. Marina’s face was wet, she dabbed it with a sodden cloth. He took her in his arms, carrying her lovingly from the room, as her sobs subsided in his arms.

  “Marina hates to be seen, not in full control of her emotions, my whipping will not be long postponed. But I can’t leave her to cry alone,” Charles thought.

  He bore her down stairs, out through kitchens that were unusually empty of servants, but combined many delicious cooking smells. Charles’ mental warning had been taken notice of. Her room would be back to normal when she returned.

  As he walked, he stroked her hair, whispering sweet comforting noises. They passed through the kitchen gardens to a single storey building set into the rock side of a natural tor. Inside was not exactly a palace, more like a tiny museum. Every available space was cluttered with beautiful things. Little carvings in jade and precious stones, exquisite glass spun into bells or butterflies. Brightly coloured feathers from exotic birds arranged artistically together, with delicate porcelain figurines. Primitive bead weaving vied for attention with golden vases filled with strange flowers, hanging baskets of gree
n fronds and huge waxy blooms. The walls were hung with silk brocades woven in elaborate designs in glowing rich colours.

  The whole effect was very strong, a wonderful place to a child, but vulgar in its ostentatious ephemera. This was Charles’ domain; his treasures were presents from Marina’s trips. Things she thought might interest him, some were of great value, but he valued them as tokens from his mistress. He had considered redecorating more tastefully, but it was comfortable and everything reminded him of Marina. He carried Marina to his bedroom, turning the covers down placing her within them.

  He undressed and kissed away her tears. She lay responding half-heartedly to his kisses. She held him fiercely in her arms, forcing herself to concentrate on his love making. After a while Charles found his efforts were paying off as she threw herself into the exercise with violent joy. Charles’s caresses changed swiftly with her mood, bruising her body with cruel care. For a few minutes they lay in each other’s arms unmoving; then Charles picked her up, laying her on her stomach.

  Twisting her arms up behind her, he knotted the bedraggled plait of her hair tightly around her wrists and ankles, pulling her neck up and arching her back. She wriggled, protesting to be released, as if she could not get free, if she had really wanted to. Then he put her across his knee and soundly spanked her.

  “Cry, will you? My Princess doesn’t cry! Let’s hear you cry now,” he whispered as he cracked his hand back down on her rump.

  She giggled, writhing in his lap, contorting her body further so she could sink her teeth into his hip. He yelped, slapping her harder, but she rolled off him onto the bed, lying sprawled with her hands and feet still tied underneath her. He lifted her legs apart, licking and nibbling between them. Reaching with her mind behind her, she unravelled the knots of her hair, freeing her hands and feet. Bringing her hands forward she curled her fingers into his wavy hair, roughly pulling him back onto her.