chapter three
Underfoot
Searing pain slashed into Ayla’s unconscious as the white-hot lash of a whip ripped her from the dream. She shrieked and rolled towards Deetra, back arched and teeth grinding.
A guttural voice boomed inside the cabin, severing the last threads of the memory of her Mother and the temple. “Where you supposed to be, slave?”
The whip came down again, then again, flaying the dress right off her back. A strangled cry escaped her throat. The burn spread through her entire body, blotting out any other sensation. Spasms in her neck and chest choked off her breath. Her feet kicked as the skin on her back split open. She barely registered the trickles of blood running down her body.
Deetra rolled on top of her, becoming a living shield. The whip cracked again. Blood freckled Ayla’s cheek as Deetra’s body went rigid from the lash.
The minotaur gave a low growl and ripped Deetra off Ayla, then shoved her out the door. “You, stay out there.”
He turned back to her, his form eclipsing the sun at his back. His horned shadow fell over her. Ayla shook her head and gripped the blankets in her fists as he leaned down. Pressing the blanket to her face, she pleaded, on the edge of sanity, “Please. No more. I'm beg-” A memory interrupted her muffled pleas - her mother in prayer.
Cup them … as if drinking water.
She opened her eyes. The blanket slid away and she stared at her hands. Goreskin yanked her off the floor by the arm. Her shoulder popped, wrenching another cry from her abused throat. The blankets came up with her, still stuck to her backside with dried blood.
Deetra appeared in the doorway. She grabbed Goreskin around his thick bicep. “Take me! She can't -”
Goreskin dropped Ayla, who collapsed without the support, and silenced Deetra with the back of his hand. Deetra stumbled, holding her face, and collided with the door jamb. He pointed outside.
“Out! Now!”
Ayla cupped her hands under her chin, as her Mother had shown her. She closed her eyes and the words of the prayer rose to her trembling lips. She whispered to the Goddess, voice hitching with sobs. “Mother, Goddess of the Night, your daughter is in need…”
The minotaur leaned in close. His breath fanned her short black hair away from her face as she finished the prayer.
“… and begs, humbly...”
Goreskin shook her but it was too late, she had completed the prayer. The fear melted away and her senses restored, like coming up from underwater. The scent of heady oils lingered on her hands as if the Goddess herself had breathed through Ayla’s mouth. She opened her eyes and Goreskin dropped her arm like it was a poisonous snake. He cocked the whip back, threatening another strike.
“Get back, or I’ll -”
A smile touched Ayla’s lips and her tongue darted out, licking away a drop of Deetra’s blood.
“No. You won't.” Her voice echoed powerfully around the small cabin.
Goreskin’s muscular arm dropped to his side, the whip impotent in his grip.
“Put it down.”
Goreskin hesitated - resisted. He blinked and shook his horned head to clear it. Ayla stalked towards him and, incredibly, the minotaur backed up until he bumped into the wall. She reached out towards him with a triumphant smile, seeing that he now shied away from her touch.
She was in control now, and she knew just what she was going to do with it.
Ayla ran her fingers through the fur on his chest, whispering the prayer again. Then she saw the fear in his eyes and laughed.
“Put it down.”
The whip hit the floor with a thud. From the corner of her eye, Ayla saw Deetra take a step forward. She held out her hand - an unspoken order to stay put.
Ayla’s hands slid down to untie the sash that held up his kilt. It came loose and fell to the floor with a clang. A minotaur dagger, a short sword by human standards, lay half exposed from its scabbard. She kicked it behind her with her heel. Deetra’s shadow passed over the back wall as she knelt in the doorway to pick it up. The sword hissed out of its sheath.
Leaning in close, Ayla smiled up at Goreskin, whose breath now came in short, panicked gasps. He pressed his back against the wall, palms flat against it at his sides, bull-head bowed to look at her. The half-beast swallowed hard as she rubbed her cheek over his fur, like a kitten demanding affection. Whispering the prayer a third time, she invoked her Mother’s dark voice.
“Close your eyes, cow.”
He did, and Ayla signaled Deetra with a hurried wave behind her back. The heavy sword was placed in her hand. With surprising swiftness and a bloodthirsty sort of joy, Ayla slid the blade across the thick skin of his throat. His eyes shot open as the resulting fine spray of blood hit her upturned face.
Ayla wiped at her eyes in a panic and she stumbled back, blinded, as Goreskin choked and sputtered. She cleared her eyes just in time to see him drop to his knees, one hand on his throat, blood pouring between his fingers. He reached out and grabbed the hem of her dress. Ignoring the minotaur’s last pitiful plea for life, she pinched blood out of her nostrils and glanced back at Deetra, who stood mute- expression paralyzed with shock.
Ayla ripped the dress from between Goreskin’s fingers, then crouched down and looked into his eyes as the blood pooled on the ground between them. She spat in his face and stabbed him just above his drooping kilt. Her face, tight with dried blood, cracked into a grim smile.
His eyes opened wide and he made another pathetic, wet gurgling sound. Ayla grunted with effort as she dragged the blade up, tugging and sawing her way through his muscled abdomen, holding him against the wall with her shoulder. His guts splattered onto the floor like laundry from a hot wash bucket. Dripping with his blood from her hands, face, and dress, she stood and sneered at him as he looked up at her helplessly.
“For my Mother.”
Ayla withdrew the oversized dagger and stepped to the side. Goreskin fell on his face, into the rapidly expanding pool of blood.
Deetra stared, unblinking.
Ayla dropped the blade onto the beast’s back. “Let’s -”
Goreskin’s head lifted from the mess and he fixed one hateful eye on them. Ayla stepped forward and pressed her heel to the back of his head, forcing his nose into the puddle. Red foam appeared around his snout. His hands flexed as he tried to swim away in the shallow puddle. She pressed down harder, giving him her weight, and held him down until his hands stopped moving and the bubbles tapered off. The Goddess’ voice played in her memory as he died.
I can give you the power to crush him under your heel.
Deetra stepped over him. She stood in front of Ayla and searched her gory face in wonder before meeting her eyes.
“How?”
Ayla wasn’t ready to explain. She needed time to think.
“We need to get out of here.”
Deetra bent to pick up the sword then gaped at her, still speechless. Ayla turned to looked out the door. No one was working the fields now, but that would change soon enough. She gently placed her hands on her friend’s cheeks, eyes beseeching .
“We have to go.”
“I -”
She kissed Deetra on the corner of the mouth. “No time. I’ll explain later.”
Deetra blinked and touched the spot Ayla had kissed. “Ayla, listen-”
“I can listen and walk. We’ll need to figure out something for shoes.” She headed for the door but Deetra didn’t follow. Ayla stopped and turned back. “What?”
“I can’t come with you.”
“You have to. If they find this…and you…”
Deetra closed the distance between them. She met Ayla’s gaze, her light brown eyes full of purpose, and spoke with rising panic in her voice. “If I don't report to the vineyard soon, they’ll come looking for me.”
Ayla pulled Deetra another step toward the door. “Then we have to hurry.”
“Ayla, wait.”
“No. You’re coming.” Ayla tugged again, but Deet
ra didn’t budge.
“If you and Goreskin are missing, no one will think twice. If I go to work, it will be hours before anyone realizes something's wrong.”
“I can't do this without you.”
Deetra pushed her toward the door. “You have to.”
Ayla shoved Deetra’s hands away. “I'm not leaving you.”
“You said it yourself. If we go together, we’ll be caught in a day.”
Deetra was right. If the Masters of the plantation started looking for them right away, they wouldn’t make it two miles. Minotaurs stood over seven feet tall, with long powerful legs. They couldn’t ride horses, but they didn’t need to. At just a walk, they moved faster than most humans at a jog. She wracked her brain for another way, any solution that didn't involve leaving Deetra behind to suffer for her crime.
There wasn’t any.
Ayla dropped the dagger and threw her arms around her only friend. “I'm sorry.”
Deetra returned the hug, squeezing her tight. “Don't be,” she said as she swept Ayla’s long black bangs back over her ear. “Just tell me how. How did you make him obey?”
Ayla shook her head against Deetra’s chest. “My Mom, I think. In my dream, she healed me, taught me a prayer.”
Deetra broke the embrace, held her at arm's length, and gave her a long look as if taking in the sight of her one last time. She wiped her nose on her forearm and stooped to retrieve the dagger.
“I don't know what that means. But there's no time. Do you know where you’re going?”
Ayla looked down the road to the south, away from Hillside.
“No. But I know where to start.”
“Stick to the road until high sun. You should have until then. After that, they’ll use the dogs. Get clean and get out of that dress as soon as you can.”
Ayla nodded and swallowed past the lump in her throat. Deetra directed her out of the door and pushed.
“Now go.”
She ran.