Wendigo III I Conqueror: I lead you away from the hall and the festivities there, watching as you stop and begin to cleanse yourself in a cool splashing fountain. I am tempted to join you there, but I wish more to sleep off the effects of the heavy corn liquor I have consumed with the others, while breaking the spirit of young Moctezuma. I take you in my arms, finally beginning to explore every part of your magnificent brown body with my eyes, my fingers, my tongue. The flash of your ebon eyes pierce my passionate Andalusian heart as no other being has in the past, and I almost believe I could love you....an emotion to which I had only come close with the Great General. Though I have been angered by the Great Generals' taking of a native slave wench,I understand that it is necessary for the sake of the campaign, therefore, my taking of a suitable native companion is also necessary. You open your arms to me, and allow my mouth to take yours, unafraid. Amusingly, many of the natives of this strange land are terrified of being eaten and had to be gently treated and soothed before becoming accustomed to being loved with the mouth. I wonder, not for the first time where you could have come from that is so far removed from this land...........As I sink once again into the delight of your body I feel an unfamiliar yearning to be one with another human being. My eyes close of their own accord as once again you allow me to soar to the very heights of passion. I spurt a glorious load to fill you completely, and my seed begins to leak from your body. I try to keep my dwindling cock inside your tight boyhole, but as the palace that was once the property of Moctezuma quiets and the effects of the liquor wear on, I find myself drifting away. II Slave: I feel the heat of your man root dissipate as you slumber. Ah, Rubio. Alonso, you have said to me over and over is your name, and I pretend not to comprehend. Outlandish as the name sounds, it is also beautiful to my ears. I work my way out from under you, careful not to waken you, and stand staring down at your pale face with its golden growth of hair. My hand rests on the ornate grip of your sword , and I realize I cannot bring myself to slay you. The palace is very still now, aside from an occasional shriek of pain or pleasure....or both, from someone far away. I take a blade of obsidian from the belongings of the former occupant of the room and slip it into its sheath. I can see the glow of the fires from the street and the sacked dwellings around the city. I tie a square of dark material about my waist and slip to the window without waking you. I watch the shadows below for guards, much aware that one sleeps just outside the door. Thoughts of my homeland roil about in my mind, and I wonder if I will remember exactly how to return there. I wonder if any of my people, my mother and my little brothers and my father, survived the raid by the wendigo so long ago. Even the doubts are enough to spur me on to return there and to find out. Looking over the balcony and down the terraced gardens, I can see that the section of the snake wall closest to the palace is unguarded with no one visible in the street or garden in between. I realize that this situation could be too good to be true, but I make up my mind to try it anyway. Throwing all caution to the four winds of the mountain, I slip onto the balcony and down the vine covered trellis outside. Once among the foliage I crouch listening. There are no sounds. I race to the wall and clamber over it, knowing only I wish to leave this hellish place and return to my own people. I push the face of the golden haired conqueror away from my mind, for if I do not I will not make good my escape. Something warns me of movement, though in truth I see no one. I freeze there, lying on my belly atop the wall until a group of laughing, drunken spaniards pass beneath me. The fine hairs upon the back of my neck prickle in warning. My breath is coming in uneven gasps as I survey the short distance between the snake wall and the canal. Finally, I drop to the other side and race for the water. The next thing I am aware of is a sharp blow that wakens a constellation inside my head, and then a heavy weight upon my back and shoulders. There is a force grinding my face into the mud of the bank of the canal I can hear gruff, unfamiliar voices speaking in an unknown tongue. My purloined blade is in my hand and free of its sheath. I hear a deep grunt of pain and slash again blindly, hoping to hit my mark once again and break free. "Damn! He cut me!" I heard someone growl in a bastardized combination of mexica and the language of the conquerors. "Get that pigsticker away from him!" "Where'd you think you were going, bendecco?" The same oily voice slurred in my ear. I could feel heavy hands ripping away my loincloth, and a rough hand grabbing my manmoon. "Eh, little boycunt? Did you think to escape so easily?" The heavy, calloused hand exploded against my backside as though it were a slab of dead meat. I rolled, fighting...my blade sliced once more, then exploded away from my grasping hand. My wrist went suddenly numb as from a stunning blow. The weight on my shoulders and head grew. My mouth was full of mud, and I could feel my bare nether parts being lifted. Both my knees were kicked under me, exposing that vulnerable area to the night air. My arms were then securely pinned behind me, being nearly wrenched from their sockets. I recognised the telltale laughter and the sounds of metal skin being removed as I had heard it before in the throne room of the palace, and I caught a whiff of unwashed flesh. While I retched, an unexpected anguish exploded inside me as something hard was shoved without preamble into my nether hole. My hips were securely held by rough hands, and I could hear drunken laughter and taunting cheers all around. I caught glimpses of flickering firelight out of the corners of my eyes. The pain and pressure subsided with the warm release of manseed inside me. Then, another, bigger serpent entered my tender lair, and then another, and another. It seemed to go on for hours, though I was certain it was just a matter of moments for each one. "I think he's learned his lesson." I could hear a familiar voice saying. "Let him up now." El Rubio! Gasping, I raised my head, spitting mud and blood, and regarded those around me. You knelt down beside me and offered your hand. Freedom and my own land now seemed just a glimmer of a sweet dream in the midst of a nightmare. I push you roughly away, and spit mud in your direction. I hear a woman's voice speaking urgently in your language. Vaguely I recognise the form of the Coatlicamac woman who acted as interpreter and concubine to your lord General. "Tell him that he will come with me.........." El Rubio said to the sourfaced translator, in that same bastardized tongue that was not spanish or Mexica. "Try to make him understand that he has naught to fear from my men or me as long as he attempts nothing else so foolish as another escape." The woman knelt down beside , wiped the filth from my face with my discarded loincloth, and repeated word for word what was said in the language of the Mexica. I raised my chin, trying to salvage some shred of long dead pride, as she threw her feathered cape, a rare extravagance purloined from the wardrobe of Moctezuma himself, around my shoulders to shield my nakedness from the salacious continued scrutiny of the soldiers. I regarded her in awe and wonder at the kindness such a great lady, could show to a slave like myself. "See me, boy, and learn from my words...." She said softly. "Mine is the name spat upon and reviled by those of my own people. I have as little regard for them as they have for me, for they sold me as a slave to these men who would be gods. I will tell you this now and for your good. You have been chosen by the lord El Rubio to walk beside him for a time. You may do this willingly or as his slave. Either way, you will walk the path he has chosen for you, as have I with his lord the Great General. Know you, that the lord El Rubio will be returning to his land and to his king very soon. If you please him it may be his will to free you then............" She hesitated a moment and then continued. "You have been ill-used by these people, the Mexica, but the time of the One World is ended. Pick yourself up, boy and change your situation as I have changed mine." I feel the cleansing water of unmanly tears spill from my eyes for the first time since my return to the city. For the second time since I was ripped from the longhouse of my people by the wendigo hunters. Through the curtain of my own mud-gobbed lashes I could see you standing beside your lord General, and I knew the truth of the woman's words. I realize that none of the tortures inflicted upon my body by the highpriest or any of his designates had had the power to bring me to this emotion. I am beyond shame, but I am also relieved.....even glad that my escape attempt was thwarted. I do not comprehend my emotions as I kneel there in the mud with the kind hand of a renegade woman upon my back, her wise words echoing in my ears. I force my wrenched arms to support my weight as I kiss the ground before you, in recognition of my acceptance of my fate...a thing I had never done before. "Remember, boy.... it is your duty to live. You are of more use to your faraway people alive than dead. One day, if you live to flee, you may be able to prepare your people for the coming of the gods from the sea." The Lady Ce Malinali continued. "And they WILL come, no matter how far away your home is from here." "At least he didn't slit your throat while you slept." The Great General laughed, and clapped El Rubio on the back. The blonde soldier grinned wryly. "No, but he had me worried for a time."
