Rite of Passage

The Denebian Empire

Rite of Passage By

Victoria and Matthew Hewitt

Text Copyright 2010, 2011 Victoria and Matthew Hewitt Cover Artwork 2011 by David Howard Johnson All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Manufactured in the United Sates.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

ISBN:145638161X ISBN-13:9781456381615

For information address Dalata Press, Inc. Publishers P.O. Box 5243 Paris, Kentucky 40362 www.dalatapress.com

May no child have to endure what I, my sisters, my husband, and others of the twentieth century had to. Drunken fathers, weak mothers, and discipline, that was beyond cruelty. So this is dedicated to all those children who broke the vicious cycle of violence and loved their children, with their whole hearts, and had the inspiration to aspire to something greater, ordained by God.

Especially for my sister, Loretta Ann and Matthew’s brother, Melvin Leroy.

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-1Shimmering leaves danced above the pathway; shifting right to left, then the branches swayed to make a rushing sound that leapt to the next tree, the sputtering foliage becoming minions to the trek. Gerald Terrell was not paying attention to the dirt path in front of his horse, but instead to the warmth of the breeze and the consuming excitement of the season’s awakening. It was his cousin shouting at him that broke up his attentiveness. “What?” he spat back, pushing his dark hair away from his blue eyes and smiling, despite his companion’s tone. He studied his friend, who was just one revolution older than he was, and, despite the nine trips of Deneb Five around the system’s star signifying his life time, his maturity marked him as twelve Terran years. Besides this, his cousin was bigger, his looks all direct-line Terrell, darker, his blue eyes shocking, and, as he grew into manhood, he would be incredibly handsome.

Revealing his easy flight to temper, Jason ground, “Watch where you are riding. You have run your horse into mine more than once.”

Gerald frowned, glancing behind him to see some ten guards that rode around a cart that was being pulled by a team of two. In it were a driver and a woman, the hood of whose cloak shielded her looks, her small form bundled in the warmth of blankets. Gerald drew back to Jason, considering that he was dressed for Devin, all in black, the tunic matching his breeches and the polished lack of color of his riding boots. The only stark contrast was the blue sash about his waist that indicated he was Lord Terrell’s son. Instead of responding to his chastisement, Gerald goaded, “Your father’s going to kick your ass when he sees you dressed for Devin.”

Jason glared, and then stolidly responded, “I am not dressed for Devin.”

Gerald disagreed. “You’re dressed all in black, which indicates that you honor Master in solemn reverence. And you know,” he said, peering at him as he slid his hands up the reins of his horse, causing the animal to toss his head, “how your father feels about Master.”

“Coincidence.” The finality in Jason’s voice caused his friend to chuckle. “I mean it,” he defended. “I forgot it was Devin.”

“You know what your father’s--” Jason cut him off. “My Lord may do as he will. Think what he will, but,” he said, shouting at him, “I am not file:///N|/projects/RiteOfPassage_April_2011/RiteofPassage_htmlformat.htm[4/11/2011 10:34:58 PM]

dressed for Devin!” The volume of his voice caused birds to flee from the trees, the horses becoming animated as they did.

Jason jerked his mare back and alongside the cart. Settling his irritation, he asked the young woman there, “Miss Elizabeth, are you comfortable?”

Elizabeth reached her small hands to the fur-lined hood and dropped it back, her blue eyes shining with hesitation, her delicate and drawing features creased with concern. “Yes, Master Jason,” she pushed reluctantly through her soft round lips. “I’m,” she said, touching her light brown hair, which was bound up and held by a diamond clasp, “I’m all right.” She studied the boy, considering that he showed attention when he didn’t have to. After all, he was direct line, Lord Terrell’s youngest son, and it was well known that the women of the House of Terrell were well cared for, but under strict restraint.

In addition, a male even affording them idle conversation was a rarity. With the thought, her eyes filled with tears, so she quickly looked away from him.

“Have I upset you?” he inquired, taking the reins in one hand and putting his other to his thigh. Since there was no response, he tried to decipher why she seemed upset. “Do you miss your mother?”

She drew her attention to him, considering that was a rather odd question for a Terrell male. “My, my mother?”

“Yes…” he pressed, matter-of-factly. “I should if I were torn from mine and thrust into a new situation that was not of my choosing.”

Elizabeth broke into a soft laugh, her features lighting with amusement.

“What?” Jason examined her pretty features as she apparently made fun of him. “What have I said?”

“Well, Master Jason,” she giggled, catching her breath as she gently folded one of the blankets from her lap. “I’ve never heard any Terrell male ever admit affection for his mother. Aren’t you worried someone may tease you? Consider you weak?” She noted how he clenched his jaw, looking now towards the backend of Gerald’s horse. “Master Jason?”

“Why should I?” he demanded, as he looked hard at her. “There is no shame in loving the woman who bore you.

Even less given a female can do something a male cannot. And this, I should be ashamed for?”

She continued to passively smile, as she admitted, “Yes, I miss my mother. And my sister. And I…” Her words trailed off as she shook her head.

“Go on,” he urged, given she had clearly forced back her next words.

“What,” she started, and now turned, enough so that she could be fixed to where he rode next to the cart, “what is your uncle like?”

He appeared puzzled. “My Uncle Vincent to whom you are bonded?”

She said nothing, just offered a slow nod in response.

Jason considered, briefly drawn to the now thickening surroundings of the Deardon Forest. “He’s,” he said, shrugging, “direct line. The head councilmember. What is he to be like?”

“Is he,” she asked, her countenance pleading, “gentle? Kind?”

Now he smiled as he shook his head. “I am ill equipped to be the judge of a man from a woman’s perspective, but I can say that from my perspective he is more tolerant than my father.”

“He is as old as my father,” she softly said. “I can’t fathom why my Lord and my father chose this bonding. After all, I’m Satarian and Dranten line, my father just a lesser councilmember to a small planet within the Empire.”

Jason considered the choice and observed, “You are very pretty.”

“Thank you.” She blushed. “But certainly that can’t be his reasoning.”

Jason boldly informed, “Probably not. However, my father’s mind is not often defined. Yet, he does nothing without purpose.”

She simply nodded, then observed, “Master Jason, why aren’t you armed?”

He killed the desire to wince at the words, given he did not carry a short sword, only a dagger in the sheath of his boot. He wanted to respond with an explanation, that his father had not assigned him a master of arms, but had his older brother, Michael. Jason should have begun his training when he was five revolutions old, but for some reason did not hold favor with his father and Lord Terrell enough to be afforded the tutelage. “I have no need of a short sword. I can throw a dagger well enough.”

She batted her drawing blue eyes, appearing more mystified than critical. “Oh, but, little good that does against multiple enemies.”

His features darkened. “I know this,” he growled at her.

“I didn’t mean to offend you, Master Jason,” she softly purred, considering she may have befriended the boy and did not want to lose what little condolence the relationship may bring in her newfound role. “If a dagger serves you well, it serves you well.”

Instead of harping on the subject he referred to her father by saying, “Councilmember Ryan’s planet holds some value to the Empire.” He settled on the discussion of her joining with his uncle. “It is close to the Galactic Council border, file:///N|/projects/RiteOfPassage_April_2011/RiteofPassage_htmlformat.htm[4/11/2011 10:34:58 PM]

to which my father has joined the Denebian Empire. He may become very important to the monitoring efforts of our galactic military forces.”

“I know nothing of such things,” she admitted, thinking the boy was well educated. “My concern is of a more personal nature. You see…” She stopped, given Gerald had reined his horse back towards where they rode.

Gerald grinned at Elizabeth, and then settled on his cousin. “Ya know,” he chastised, using the Devin dialect of Denebian, which the young woman would not understand. It was only learned by direct line males, and despite the fact that Gerald was a bastard and not all-direct line, his father, Head Councilmember Vincent, insisted he learn it. In addition, his father was less than lenient with him, so he learned, and rather quickly. “You shouldn’t be talking to a virgin female of the household.”

Jason glared, considering that Gerald knew that Lord Terrell had forbidden his older brother, Michael, and him to learn the Devin dialect. “You admonish me for dressing for Devin, and then you speak to me using Master’s language?”

Gerald laughed, rather loudly. “Told you you had dressed for Devin,” he said, continuing to chuckle.

Still in the Devin, despite his father’s command, Jason responded, “And I am not alone with her. There are guards here and I have said nothing inappropriate!”

Gerald winked at him. “She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she?”

Jason glanced to the young woman, who smiled, then said without turning away, “Yes. She is.”

“Little young for my father, wouldn’t you say?”

Jason broke away, studying his friend’s eyes, and then flashing a winning smile. “What is wrong, hate that you will have to call her mother?”

Gerald grimaced, then blurted to Elizabeth, “How old are you anyway?”

Appearing trapped, she stammered, “Well, I’m…I’m fifteen revolutions old. Why?” Still showering disapproval, Gerald growled, “What do you know about being joined? Being a good mate for my father?”

“Stop it, Gerald,” Jason ordered, noting that Elizabeth seemed as if she would cry.

“I know nothing,” she admitted.

“Then what did you do,” Gerald continued, despite his cousin’s words, “to gain such a high rank?”

“Nothing.” Her lower lip trembled.

Jason now reached over and slugged his friend in the shoulder. “You are going to make her cry!”

Gerald shoved him back, adding in the Devin, “Probably let your father fuck her, Jason. That’s what I’m betting.”

“You should be hard pressed to offer such words when you yourself are a bastard!” He watched his friend’s expression crash, and then sighed since Gerald kicked his horse to quicken the animal’s pace so that he was once again in front of the small troop. “Gerald, I am sorry!” Jason knew if he was to insult his cousin that was the worst thing he could do. His friend would do anything if he could be all direct line Terrell. Jason began to send his horse after him, and then paused as one of the guards had come abreast of his own. Looking to the common male, he asked, “What?”

The man cleared his throat, his hazel eyes defining him as an inferior and not part of the ruling family. His dress too was not rich, no more than brown breeches and the same color shirt, laced with a vest over it. The guard was well armed, a dagger and a short sword on his person. He also carried a broadsword on the back of his saddle and an axe fixed to the side. “Master Jason, we’re nearing Altosa. Conversation may not be wise.”

Jason nodded, as the guard referred to a region where the enemies of the Terrell family resided. Mainly the Mandia tribe populated this area, but some fragments of Dasean could also be found. They were well matched in arms, though if superior weapons were allowed in the Denebian Empire, Jason felt he could neatly wipe them out with simple laser defense. This would end their problems with them and rather quickly. Sending his horse next to Gerald’s, he glanced at him to find that he had been battling visible distress. Jason leaned closer and offered with a good deal of sincerity, “I am sorry.”

Gerald looked at him, despite the fact that his eyes welled with tears. “No, you’re not.”

“I am,” Jason argued.

“You’re not!” Gerald’s shouting resonated off the now dense surrounding brush.

“Shhh!”

“Don’t you tell me to be quiet,” Gerald continued. “You’re not my father! In fact, I get sick of you always thinking you can tell me what to do, Jason! So, stay away from me--” Jason’s horse went straight up on his hind legs as the brush around them parted and the loud cries of the mountain men broke the argument. He fell from the saddle, the animal bolting and heading down the path and away from them at a gallop. He pulled his dagger, turning and seeing his cousin still on his mount and the marauders engaged with the guards, who were sorely outnumbered. He grabbed the reins of Gerald’s horse and yelled, “Get help!” He slapped the animal on file:///N|/projects/RiteOfPassage_April_2011/RiteofPassage_htmlformat.htm[4/11/2011 10:34:58 PM]

the hindquarter, causing him to leap forward and head quickly in the direction of the main castle, Devisha. As he heard Elizabeth scream above the clash of steel, he turned, finding one of their enemies had made it to the cart and was wrestling with her. Her words were filled with pleas as the male slapped her then tore her cloak away, pushing her down to the floor of the transport.

Jason stood indecisive, briefly watching the guard battle the tribesmen that outnumbered them two to one, until another group of mountain raiders entered the scene of mayhem on horseback, increasing the odds even more. His mind made up, he went towards the cart, starting to climb up behind the male who had now torn the front of the young woman’s gown open, revealing her rounded breasts. He was fixed here, for too long, given the man looked back at him.

The attacker growled, “What do you want, whelp?” He raised his fist, hitting Jason in the side of the face and sending him to the dirt, on his back.

The wind was knocked out of him, forcing Jason to crawl to his hands and knees and try to shake off the dazed feeling. He peered up, fixed with the male, who unfastened his dirty pants to let loose his maleness, grinning at Elizabeth, his toothless smile lending to his look of lechery. Jason searched for the dagger that he had lost in the soil, grabbing the hilt, and then leaping to the sideboard. This time the Terrell boy did not hesitate, but stabbed it into the back of the man’s neck. The exposed male fell forward onto Elizabeth, but instead of assisting her, Jason jumped to the driver’s place.

Finding the driver dead from a short sword through his chest, Jason shoved him to the ground then gathered the reins.

Snapping the leather on the horses’ backs, he yelled, “Ha!” The animals leapt to pull the cart, making it lurch onto the path as they cantered over the rough terrain and towards the main castle. Jason glanced back, seeing that Elizabeth had successfully pushed the dead male off her. But now she sat with her legs under her, her upper form bare, her skirt torn as well, and she appeared horrified as she sobbed. Jason settled on her again for too long, and the cart’s wheel grazed a fallen log that knocked it off its axle, the transport jolting to a stop, throwing the young woman to the floor. Jason grabbed fast to the sideboard to stop himself from being catapulted from the seat. He jumped into the back, grabbing the cloak she had worn, and then taking hold of her arm. “Come on!

They will be here soon!”

They came from the cart, Elizabeth’s tears still uncontrolled, her exclamations of discomfort loudly voiced since the boy dragged her into the dense brush. She pulled back, too encumbered to find words with which to tell him to slow down and that the sticks and brush were cutting into the soft skin of her ankles and calves.

Jason jerked on her hard, then had to stop, given she threw her weight into resisting. He turned to face her and dropped the cloak, then grabbed her upper arms and shook her. “You must keep up! What that man would have done to you, they all will if they catch us! Do you understand?”

Choking through tears, she admitted, “No. What, what, was he…”

Realizing she had not a clue that the mountain man had intended to rape her, he explained, “Well, he was going to, going to…” He stopped. “We do not have time for me to issue you a lesson on sexual intercourse. Now, come on!” He grabbed her hand and then took up the cloak to drag her after him. They went for a good bit of time, Jason listening hard for anyone who may be in pursuit, but he heard nothing except the wind through the trees.

He stopped, given that advancing any farther would leave them exposed in a clearing. Letting her hand go, he shook out the covering then faced her, finding her crying again, her cheeks dampened by the moist distress. He fixed the cloak around her, allowing himself to linger on her bare bosom and sensing a definite arousal, so he started to talk. “You must try to be quiet. I know you are afraid, but if they hear you, they will come after us. The mountain men know you are a Terrell woman. They will hold you for ransom.” He urged her to settle on the ground, and then he sat next to her, thinking he should give her something with which to dry her face. He unfastened the blue sash he wore that signified him as Lord Terrell’s son, and then handed it to her. He grimaced as she blew her nose on it. “Please, Miss Elizabeth…”

“What,” she continued to cry as she looked at him, “what’re we going to do?”

He shook his head, considering aloud, “The guards were outnumbered. They are probably all dead. If Gerald was able to get away, he will reach Devisha before darkness. In addition, my uncle will send a search for you. If not…” He evaluated his words, saying, “Next day we must try and make it to Devisha on foot.”

She shook her head, reaching to her skirt and sliding it up to her knees. Her feet were bare and bruised, as she had lost her shoes in the escape, with numerous lacerations on her ankles and calves.

He shook his head. “Well, I guess we wait.” Watching her put her arms around herself and shiver, he apologized, “I could only get your cloak.”

“That’s all right.” She pulled the warm covering closer. “But I’m hungry.”

“That cannot be helped,” he said, observing how she shifted her weight, bringing her legs to the side of her, which left her feet and ankles exposed. He lingered here ever so briefly.

Looking around at the shielding trees and brush, she drew a deep breath, asking, “What’s that you said to me?” file:///N|/projects/RiteOfPassage_April_2011/RiteofPassage_htmlformat.htm[4/11/2011 10:34:58 PM]

He puzzled. “I do not understand.”

“Sexual…” Her brow furrowed as she attempted to remember his words.

“Intercourse,” he supplied.

“What is that? You’re a male,” she informed as if he didn’t know. “Have you had sexual intercourse?”

He shook his head, reluctantly admitting, “No. But I would like to.”

“Should I want to too?” Her words were shrouded with naiveté.

Shifting his weight in the soil, he leaned back, palms to the ground and behind him; he crossed his legs and studied her. “I suppose a woman should want to.”

Batting her eyes, she asked, “What is it?”

Realizing she was not only a virgin, but clueless as well, he could not help but push out a slight smile. “Well, it is when a man and a woman…” He hesitated, wondering if he should even be discussing this with her. “Well, you see, a woman has babies, and in order for this to happen a man and a woman need to--” “No! I know this!” Her eyes became bright. “I know this…kiss, am I right?”

He laughed. “No, Miss Elizabeth. If that were the case, I am sure we would be over-populated. Though kissing is part of it.”

Appearing offended, she folded her hands neatly in her lap then spouted, “Are you making fun of me, Master Jason?”

“No, no,” he said, still laughing. “You do know that men and women are different, right? I mean physically.” Her expression a complete blank canvas, he informed, “You see, women have children. And these children, well, she pushes them out of her through her vagina. However, before she can get with child a man needs to impregnate her. He does this with his…” he stammered. “Well, with his…” He pointed with his whole hand below his waist. “His member.”

Now her eyes became filled with horror. “He does? And that’s what that man was going to do to me?”

“Yes,” he admitted, thinking he should have said nothing, since she appeared as if she would cry again.

“Will,” she spoke through impending tears, “will Master Vincent want to do this to me?”

“If you and he are to have any children, yes.”

She put her face in her hands, her hair having come from the clasp; it fell down and over the cloak.

He noted how she shook with the effort. “It’s not bad, Elizabeth. My uncle has a good reputation with women.

You’ll enjoy it, I am sure.”

“I don’t want to do it,” she mumbled into her hands.

He took her wrists, bringing her hands from her face and assuring, “It will be all right.”

“I don’t see how. This will bring about children and when my mother had my youngest brother, you could hear her scream throughout the castle.” Reflecting for only a moment, she slid her hands from his grasp on her wrists, and then put her palms in his. “Will this intercourse hurt?”

“I…” Not knowing the answer to that, he said, “It shouldn’t.” He pulled away, returning her soft smile.

“I have no friends here,” she informed him, in hopes he might say that he was her friend.

“You will,” he assured, knowing what she sought, but it was inappropriate for a male to be friends with a woman.

“I promise. Moreover, I am sure my mother and you will get along fine. She will help you with those things that trouble you. Also, my uncle and she were raised together, given she was a ward to my Grandfather Trent’s house, just as Gerald is a ward to my father’s house.”

“But--” He raised his right hand as she began to speak, straining to hear and recognizing the shouts of men in the distance.

He held his breath, knowing they came from the main road and hoping they would continue past, but distinctly receiving the words that indicated their enemies had found some sort of evidence that would lead them to their hiding place. He quickly grabbed her shoulders. “Listen. You must stay hidden. No matter what you hear. You must not be captured. And if you are, you must find a way to kill yourself before they take their pleasure from you.”

She nodded, her lips quivering with distress. She grabbed his hand as he stood, shaking her head as he looked at her.

“Let me go,” he softly advised, then drew from her. Taking a shuddering breath, he stepped boldly towards the voices. He pushed the brush away from his face as he stepped closer to the sound, and he hesitated shortly before moving into a clearing where twelve tribesmen caucused.

Jason’s presence brought one mountain man to hit his comrade in the shoulder, and then slowly point to the single Terrell. The male turned, his eyes narrowed and darkened. The dirt on the raider’s face was just as thick as that on his hands and neck. His clothing too was filthy, covered with dirt and in need of a clean wash, just as the rest of his companions’ were. He smiled, ever so slightly, as he drew his sword and stepped closer to where Jason stood. “Yer Lord file:///N|/projects/RiteOfPassage_April_2011/RiteofPassage_htmlformat.htm[4/11/2011 10:34:58 PM]

Terrell’s youngest whelp, ain’t ye?”

“Am I?” Jason sarcastically asked.

The male came near, putting his foul smelly breath close. “Now don’t be glib with me, boy, or I’ll give ya a whipping and send ye cryin’ back to yer father.” Stepping around Jason and studying his dress, the male asked, “I thoughts yer father doesn’t align with Master?”

“He does not,” Jason admitted.

“Then whys you dressed for Devin?”

“An,” Jason said, shifting his weight and grinding his jaw, “oversight.”

The male chuckled. “Don’t lie to me.” He pressed close from behind. “You honor Master in solemn reverence, don’t ya?”

“What is it to you?” Jason forced himself not to flinch as the dirty male ran his hand over his backend.

“Is don’t like Terrells that align with the Beast. Bad things happen with the creature.” Moving his mouth to Jason’s other ear, he said, “Ya knows the legend. Find a Terrell who can wear Master’s medallion and he’ll be able to join with him, then Master will direct him to kill off our kind.”

“You are…” Jason pointed out, folding his arms, “short sighted. Master has no concern for such pathetic miscreants as yourselves, especially when his design is to unify the galaxy under Denebian rule.”

“A miscreant?” The male chuckled.

“Yes.” Jason’s tone was challenging. “Do you need for me to define it for you?” He cried out as he was kicked in the back and sent face down in the dirt.

The mountain man put his booted foot on the back of Jason’s neck, his friends laughing as Jason tried to break the restraint. After he gave up the fight, the abuser asked, “Where’s the Terrell female that was with ya?”

“My cousin,” Jason said, barely able to release the words since his face was pressed hard to the ground, “my cousin took her back to Devisha!”

“Ya wouldn’t lie at me, would ya, whelp?” He pressed even harder with his heel.

“No!” Jason yelled, unaware that the leader had motioned for one of the men to join them. Jason fought as the comrade grabbed his wrist, stretching his left arm out, as another of the men secured a heavy piece of wood that he could use for a club. “You’re all cowards!” Jason shouted at them. “Giving a man no way to fight!”

They all laughed, their amusement becoming louder as the club was lifted then delivered to the boy’s forearm.

“Fight?” The mountain male chuckled then egged, “You fight? You’re not even armed.” He took his foot from Jason’s neck, satisfied that he sat up, his legs under him as he cradled his shattered arm. “You best tell your father,” the man began as he indicated for his comrade who wielded the instrument to step behind the Terrell, “that Is don’ want any of yer kind in Altosa, near Altosa, or the Dearden Forest. Yous got that, whelp?” The leader gave his comrade the go ahead to swing again. He did, pursuing a home run as he laid the club to the middle of the boy’s back.

Jason went down again; the fall as painful as the strike given, he landed on his shattered arm. He lay there, trying to subdue tears to no avail. He struggled, not just in sitting up, but somehow making his feet. Before he had steadied himself, the male took aim at his lower leg, and then sent him to ground again.

“No ones told you to gets up!” the spokesman ordered, motioning to him and saying, “And ta be sure ye can’ again…”

Jason tried to crawl away towards the shielding of the brush as the instrument was again laid to his leg and then the middle of his shoulder blades. He clutched the soil with his free hand, digging his fingers in to attempt to haul himself to perceived safety. Just as he was about to make it, one of them grabbed his ankle, pulling him back, the pain excruciating since it was done by his broken leg.

Another yelled above his pain, “Hey, Seanneen, I didn’t knows a Terrell could howl that louds!”

The group laughter caused Jason to pull his face from the dirt and look towards the brush, mouthing the word, “Go,” since he saw Elizabeth pressed close in hiding, her blue eyes filled with desperation.

She put her fist to her mouth in an effort to cover her distress, watching the leader raise his hand up, then motion to one of his men. “Is hes dead?”

The man knelt down, grabbing the boy’s short black hair and yanking backwards. His eyes were closed, his breathing unsteady. “Naw, just decided to take a little nap.”

They continued to laugh, the man with the club raising the stick over his shoulder and taking aim for Jason’s head.

His comrade was looking right at him as he readied for the strike, but his expression of glee was silenced as the man disappeared in a green flash; the stick, still poised for an odd moment, fell to the ground into a pile of black powder that had once been his comrade. “Master!” he shrieked. The males all dropped their weapons, six running towards the brush away from where Elizabeth hid. The remaining men tried to make the same spot, but the sound of wings cutting the air file:///N|/projects/RiteOfPassage_April_2011/RiteofPassage_htmlformat.htm[4/11/2011 10:34:58 PM]

caused them to look up in horror.

The dragon-like creature crashed through the overhead branches, showering the attackers with a storm of broken twigs, leaves, and heavy limbs. They covered their heads as the Beast gathered itself, settling to landing on its hind legs, roaring as it did. The piercing shrill sent small woodland animals to flee and birds to take flight in a heavy flurry of dispersion. Master laid its leathery ears back, screeching again as it focused its piercing red eyes on the leader of the group.

The male screamed as a green fire ate him from the ground up, engulfing him, his terror not silenced until his head had disappeared. The remaining men fell to their knees, hands clasped as they babbled for forgiveness from the Gondor.

Setting its large front talons in the dirt, the filtered sunlight illuminating the shimmering sleekness of his green scales, it reared up, the remaining mountain men being consumed from an unseen source by the burning luminescent fire.

Once they were gone the creature slinked closer to the boy. Looking down at him, it reached one of its talon-front feet out and wrapped them around his good arm then brought Jason to lie face up. Sliding its nostrils near to him, Master drew in breath as if in evaluation then nosed Jason in the shoulder. The creature suddenly looked up, its eyes going to slits as it saw movement behind the bushes. It jumped the boy with a simple widening of its wings, settling near the intruder, who stumbled from hiding.

Elizabeth screamed as she tumbled to the dirt, then gathered herself in order to crouch low to the ground. She fixed the cloak hard around her as she prayed, “Master, Master, I beg your tolerance. I meant not to interfere! If you deem me fit to send me to the lower world, I will go,” she ushered as her tears came forth. “But, I beg you, I meant no harm. I’m a Terrell,” she said, indicating her blue eyes. Her breath increased in rapidity as the creature just studied her. Elizabeth felt desperation as the survey was done with intelligence, and a certain critical air. “That’s right, Master Jason told me to go. I should. I should…” she stammered, indicating the way behind her. “I should…” She backed up, fleeing as Master roared.

She continued to run, her tears now streaming down her face, her fear of the mountain men replaced with her greater fear of Master; the Denebians’ deity. It was believed Master had established the Denebian Empire some twenty thousand revolutions earlier. However, Master had not been seen for a great while, in fact for over two hundred revolutions when he had joined with Lord Matthew to unite the fifty-four habitable worlds that were spread across the Orion Arm. In addition, with Master and Matthew joined, the unification had been bloody, wiping out entire lines of Terrell. Hence, some lines aligned with Master and others wanted to see his demise. If he could even be killed.

She continued to run, having found the main path and finally seeing the forest trees thinning, graduating to marsh and littered hills, decorated by much more scanty brush and foliage. Abruptly it ended, and she stood on the edge of the cliff and looked out on a wide, verdant plain. She caught her breath. It was beautiful. She had never been to Deneb Five, but she had heard of its great beauty, its incredible landscapes, which she had never imagined. From her perch, she could see the Portal City, some modern buildings, including Galactic Council Central prominent in the forefront, with the modest, medieval spread of shops and residences beyond. Then she drew to the other end of the Devin Plain and there she saw the large, foreboding structure of the black stone castle that was named Devisha. The late fading starlight lent long, tall shadows succumbing to the stark Devin Plain.

She shivered as the wind swept over her, now drawn to the edge of the scene and to a group of riders and men coming towards her along a path that bordered the cliff. At first, she considered running, then focused harder to see a banner, a black cloth with a stark white “v” for the councilmember to Vantar being held by one of the guards as they rode.

It was the head councilmember’s insignia. The man she was bonded to. She considered succumbing to long drawn sobbing for fear or joy at being saved from the mountain tribesmen, but instead she found the courage to gather her clothing around her and hold her head high as they approached.

Before Vincent pulled his horse to a stop, he looked beyond the woman, noting she was alone, disheveled, and as she curtsied, he saw her expression was filled with hesitation. He settled the horse he was on, waving his hand in the air and towards the pathway, and saying, “Ten of you find Master Jason.” The men spurred their horses forward. Vincent clenched his jaw, his demeanor reticent as he looked down on her, his features and stunningly handsome qualities calculating. His dark blue eyes examined her with a critical air. He dismounted and pulled a blanket from his saddle roll, then approached and secured it about her shoulders.

Elizabeth swallowed her disquiet, forcing herself to look up at him and consider that the boy, Jason, had many of his same physical attributes. “Thank you,” she hedged, “Master Vincent.”

“Yes,” he assured. Then he asked, “Master Jason?”

She kept back the knowledge she had, instead giving, “He saved me, by sacrificing himself. The mountain men beat him, so that I could get away.”

Clenching his jaw, given he was fond of his nephew, Vincent responded, “I see.” Dropping his sight to her coverings, he reached out, and, despite the fact that she shuddered, he took hold of the opening then revealed the fact that her bodice had been torn open. file:///N|/projects/RiteOfPassage_April_2011/RiteofPassage_htmlformat.htm[4/11/2011 10:34:58 PM]

She closed her eyes as he did not quickly cover her up, but slowly shielded her. Upon opening them, she looked at him, finding critical examination.

“Have you been compromised?” he barked. “And if so, by whom?”

“I…” She hesitated, and then recalled what Master Jason had said, so ushered with ignorance, “There was a mountain raider who tried to put his member in my vagina.” She cried out as Vincent slapped her across the mouth, tears bursting forth since the action was unexpected.

“Where did you learn such words, young woman? You should know better!” he said, continuing, “You’d better not use such language again or it’ll be more than a mere slap you’re crying from.”

“I didn’t know!” she choked, her hand shaking as she touched where she had been slapped. “Master Jason told me that’s what the man wanted to do! I didn’t know!”

He shifted his weight, considering he may have been hasty, but instead of apologizing, he pressed, “I take it he didn’t.”

“No, no.” Looking up at him, she revealed that her blue eyes swam with hurt. “Master Jason saved me. I didn’t even know what the man was going to do until Master Jason, he--” “That’s enough,” he commanded, considering if Jason were alive he would need to have words with him. He should know better than to speak to a virgin of the household about such things. Reaching for the reins of his horse, he stepped it forward then faced her, putting his hands to her waist then lifting her to ride sidesaddle. He swung on behind, waving the remaining guards with him. “How many raiders were there?” he continued to question her as they rode.

He had not even welcomed her, she thought. Not even expressed that he wished for her happiness. She informed, “Many. More than the men we had with us.”

“And you say Jason was beaten?” Seeing Devisha in the distance, he kicked his horse into a jog.

“Yes, with a club. I felt so sorry for him,” she added rather softly.

“It’s no concern of yours,” he abruptly let out as they made the castle gates, which were open. The courtyard was large, to the right a sixty-stall barn that did not service the entire castle, but specifically the Terrells.

After Vincent helped Elizabeth down from the horse, she looked up at the massive black stone structure that was Devisha. It appeared to be four stories, two battlements, both on the same side. The rest was sprawling, running nearly to the back castle wall. She realized that Master Vincent had started towards the double entry without her, so she hurried after him, having to catch her breath in order to keep up with his long and determined stride. Once inside she was greeted by several servants and she immediately noted that Vincent had taken his cloak and handed it to the first. She was fixed with the undeniable fact that he was clothed entirely in black. But it left her confused; after all, he was Lord Terrell’s brother, and it was well known that Lord Robert did not follow the ways of Master despite the fact that he was direct line. And Vincent’s attire clearly was a signal that he didn’t share the same feelings. She unconsciously fiddled with the sleeve of her gown under the cloak and lifted it just enough to see the black of the material from beneath it. She too would have worn black, but not knowing the head councilmember’s position on Master, she had just stowed a black wristband.

“Woman,” Vincent snapped at her, causing her to jump from her examination.

As she drew to him, she considered he was not only handsome, but also well fit, evidenced by the way he filled the clothing he wore. “Yes, Master Vincent?”

“You’ll go with this servant. She’ll show you to your chambers.” He turned on his heel and headed down the hall and towards Lord Terrell’s office. The entry was airy, the dark stone causing the castle chill to linger, and with no tapestries on the walls, it was worse. His father had worshipped Master, and the hall had once been lined with renditions of the Beast and previous Ladies and Lords who had secured the power. But now it was in stark contrast to the past.

Vincent came to a set of double doors, where four guards were posted. They acknowledged him, the first pushing the door open. He said nothing as he stepped inside, settling to move to a couch that was positioned near to the fire, with two chairs opposite. The furniture was warm and decadent. He sat on the couch across from his brother, Richard, councilmember to Aldebaran XII. He too was direct line, bold, rugged, but it was clear by the set of his countenance he was never tolerant. Next to him in the opposite chair was William Terrell, of the Dranten line, which lent to a lighter coloring, his eyes bordering gray, his hair blonde, tinged red under certain lighting. He was not clothed for Devin but wore a highly decorated mauve tunic; the symbol of his family, a climbing vine, circled both wrists; gold inlay decorated the collar and the front.

Vincent was not drawn to either man, nor did he acknowledge them, instead resting on his brother Robert, Lord Terrell, and the leader of the Denebian Empire. It was more than clear who Jason’s father was. The man was compelling, though his eyes held a certain viciousness, a coldness that warned anyone of crossing him. He stood at end of the table that was between the furniture. He had rested one arm across his middle, his right elbow supported there, and he held his index and thumb to his lips in a clear sign of consideration. The other men were quiet, so Vincent assumed that something had file:///N|/projects/RiteOfPassage_April_2011/RiteofPassage_htmlformat.htm[4/11/2011 10:34:58 PM]

been said that prompted pause from their leader. He too was not dressed for Devin, though he was informal, wearing a white shirt and brown breeches, and the red sash around his waist that indicated his position in the Empire.

Robert pronounced, changing his position by folding his arms in an expression of denial, “The ability to manipulate the space time continuum has already reached its limit in technology. I won’t believe it.”

“Cousin.” William let out a frustrated sigh then secured some paperwork from the table. “Our operatives don’t lie.

They’re convinced that this is exactly what the Thunusians are attempting.”

Richard cleared his throat, and then said, “We could pay them for the data.”

“Thunusians?” William guffawed. “We don’t even know what they’re about. Even the Galactic Council has just recently started diplomatic contact with them. And we’re supposed to go around our new ally?”

The youngest of the three brothers came back, “Look, if they do have a way to get more speed from their craft by manipulating the space time continuum--” Vincent interrupted. “It’s well known that the Thunusians typically sell their information.”

Robert sat close to where Vincent was leaning forward and gave, “Wait, wait, but didn’t we hear that they’re having problems with a government that borders them?” He snapped the fingers of his right hand as if remembering, saying, “Who told me this?”

“Councilmember Ronald,” Vincent smoothly supplied.

“That’s right, brother.” He motioned to him. “And if this is the case, if they’re overthrown…”

Richard shrugged. “We could lend them assistance.”

“No,” Robert disagreed. “That would be going around the Galactic Council.”

Vincent grimaced. “It seems of late as if we can do nothing without their approval.”

Robert looked hard at him. “You’ll recall, Head Councilmember, that to join was not my decision alone, but we took a vote of Council, which was maintained.”

Vincent held steady. Given this was a point of contention between them, he informed, “Under duress, my Lord.”

Robert’s eyes narrowed, and he growled, “Get out.” The other two of his family members knew he meant them, so retreated. Robert stood, moving to a small wet bar on the other side of the room. He grabbed a glass and a bottle, filling the first with the smooth alcohol Denebians referred to as fantash. He turned to face Vincent, his tone becoming laden with threat. “I’m going to tell you this only once, Councilmember: you’d best come on board regarding the Galactic Council. If not, I may be forced to make you disappear.”

Vincent peered at him from under his brow. “Why? Call me a traitor and you may have my head, my Lord. You know this.”

Robert laughed, and then took a drink. “While you maintain forty percent of Council support, even over me? That would be foolish. But let’s not argue over it, because you know I could make you disappear and quickly.”

“I do.” Vincent fixed his sight to the table, clenching his jaw ever so briefly.

“You’re dressed for Devin,” Robert criticized.

Vincent now looked at him. “As your brother, Lord Terrell?”

Robert waved his hand that held the glass. “Why not?”

“You may be able to shove the Galactic Council down my gullet, but your lack of devotion to Master I dare not inherit.” He noted how Robert’s eyes darkened, his jaw line tense. “For neither you nor your Terran friends can ban my life force to the upper world, once I’m dead. However, Master can. So, if the most I can do is honor him during Devin, I shall, and you can’t stop me unless…” Giving a slight smile, he antagonized, “You wish to make me disappear.”

Robert visibly flinched at the last, stepping towards him in two strides as he abandoned the glass by throwing it to the side. He leaned close, putting his hand on the back of the couch to meet him head on. “I don’t like it, Vincent,” he said between his teeth. “You’re my head councilmember. The keeper of my treasury. You should align with me!”

Vincent just slowly shook his head, finally expelling in a hushed tone, “Not if following you aligns me against Master.”

“Aah!” Robert yelled, turned from him and then quickly faced him, his fists clenched. “You’re influencing your nephew too much! I had word from one of the guards that he was dressed for Devin before he went out this morning.”

Vincent stolidly replied, “Jason has his own mind. I have no control over what he puts on his back.”

Robert suddenly changed the subject. “What of him anyway? And the woman?”

“Miss Elizabeth?” Vincent queried, knowing whom he meant. “She is unharmed, but has expressed to me that Jason was beaten and she believes dead.” He waited for a reaction but saw none. In fact, Robert went to retrieve a new glass. “I have sent ten men out to search for him. Should I send more?”

Robert stood in front of the wet bar, his hand fixed to the crystal container as he paused from filling it. His blue eyes were set here for several minutes, and then he pushed out, “No. Recall your men.” file:///N|/projects/RiteOfPassage_April_2011/RiteofPassage_htmlformat.htm[4/11/2011 10:34:58 PM]

“So,” Vincent purposely reached for clarity. “You wish for me to end the search which has just begun? You want me to have my men return?”

Unmoving, Robert said, “Yes.” Vincent stood to move closer to his brother. Sliding his palm to the edge of the cold stone surface of the wet bar he dropped his tone, then uttered in the Devin, “Robert, what has Jason done so blatant to make you hate him so completely?

You give him no counsel, little protection, and even abandon his training. He’s your son. Please, help me to understand.”

Robert only turned his head, just enough to look at him, then succinctly reiterated, “Recall your men.”

Not liking the answer, Vincent forced himself to respond, “By your leave, my Lord. May I withdraw?” Since Robert indicated he could, he bowed then turned to do just that. Once outside of the room he was forced to stop quickly since Gerald nearly collided with him. “What’s wrong with you, boy?”

“I’m…” Gerald said, looking up at him and squeaking, “Sorry, Father.”

“You’re always sorry, Gerald Reginald,” he shot, slapping him in the arm and commanding, “Stand up straight. The only time you have even a sense of who you are is when your cousin is with you.”

“Yes, sir.” Gerald remained meek, swallowing then bolstering, “Where’s Jason?”

“I don’t know,” Vincent admitted, looking beyond him and to the dark hall. “Dead, maybe. I don’t know.”

“Dead?” Shaking his head, Gerald vehemently denied, “He can’t be dead.”

“What makes you say this?”

“I don’t know.” Jason’s friend shrugged. “He just can’t be.” Running the words through the next, he put out, “But the searchers will find him, right?”

Saying more to himself than to him, “There is no search.” Vincent left Gerald standing in the hall, blinking at the information.

That would mean Jason was left out there all alone, with mountain raiders just waiting to skin a Terrell alive. Gerald turned as he heard the office door open and saw Lord Terrell emerge. He had been ward to his house even before he could remember, and his father Vincent, Gerald was afraid of, but Robert terrified him. “Uncle,” he greeted, putting on his best smile. Robert surveyed him with little more than disdain, so Gerald, trying to gain approval, spouted, “See…” Widening his arms, he pointed out, “I’m not wearing black.” He caught his breath since Robert did little more than motion with the middle and index fingers of his left hand, to come closer. The boy did, his smile now fading. “Yes, sir?”

Robert fixed his eyes to his. “One can hide the true color of their feelings in their heart. Don’t you think so, bastard?”

Wiping his sweaty palms on his breeches, Gerald uttered in no more than a whisper, “If you say so, my Lord.”

“And such secrecy lends credence to a coward.” Robert shifted his eyes over Gerald’s features, seeing that the ease that had been there moments before had vanished completely. “Call me uncle again, Gerald, and I’ll have your tongue cut out. Understood?”

Gerald slowly nodded, swallowing his distress as he turned from him. Feeling the distinct pressure of tears, he headed for the main stairwell, cupping his hand to the side of his face so that the guards would not see him cry. He climbed three other floors until he reached his chambers. He pushed open the door, slamming it then falling face down to the bed. He shoved his arms under his head, pressing his eyes to force back the crying to no avail. He was a bastard. Only half Terrell. Only half direct line. In addition, it plagued him, unless he was with Jason. He never treated him like a bastard.

He treated him better than a friend did and far more than a brother, given the relationship was mostly void of any sibling rivalry. Now if Jason was never found, he would suffer greatly, given it was more than once his cousin had stuck up for him and taken the beating rather than him.

He reflected on Robert’s words that were indirectly a way of telling him he did align with Master, but was too much of a coward to admit it. “I’m no coward,” he mumbled. “I’m not.” Sliding to his feet, he surveyed the small chambers then went to the dresser that was at the end of the bed. He pulled out a drawer, and then withdrew a black tunic. Shedding his upper clothing, he fastened it on, finding it snug, given he had not worn it since last season. He wiped his eyes, straightened the clothing, and then walked out of the room. Well, no one else was going to look for Jason, but he was. He didn’t care what his father did or what his uncle thought. Jason was his best friend and he wasn’t going to allow him to die out there all alone. At least he could give him some company.

Gerald made the lower castle, starting to turn towards the main doors, and then was drawn to someone calling him.

He saw a man walking towards him; the male was Lady Terrell’s lead guard. He was green-eyed, brown haired, as tall as Vincent was and well fit. Gerald estimated him to be close to Lord Robert’s age, so had some seniority in Devisha’s guard.

Trying to remember his name, he stammered, “Yeah?”

The male came closer, dropping his voice and ushering, “Please, come with me. Lady Terrell wishes to speak with you.” file:///N|/projects/RiteOfPassage_April_2011/RiteofPassage_htmlformat.htm[4/11/2011 10:34:58 PM]

Gerald nodded, and then followed, not far to a sitting room that was almost directly across from Lord Terrell’s office. He stepped inside of it, seeing his aunt on the couch, needlework in her hand. She smiled at him and Gerald considered that Jason’s mother was beautiful. Her face was kind, her blue eyes lighter than her son’s, but they were large, like a fragile fawn’s, her features also soft.

She laid her hand flat on the couch and invited, “Gerald, come speak with me.”

He clumsily stepped around the table, and then lowered himself next to her.

“Tell me,” she softly began, pulling a stitch through the cloth. The motion revealed a black band of material under her sleeve that she quickly righted into hiding. She gave a nervous smile. “Your uncle would be none too happy if he found me wearing this. Or knew.”

Knowing she meant that he would beat her senseless since though her dress wasn’t for Devin if it could be, it would be, he agreed, “Yeah.”

“What of…” Keeping her emotions at bay, her voice trembled as she asked, “What of Jason?”

“He’s lost. One of the guard overheard Miss Elizabeth say that he had been beaten with a club and was dead.” He noted how her lips quivered, though her eyes remained dry.

“Vincent has sent men to search for him?”

He shook his head, and since she continued to sew, he verbally inputted, “No. There’s no one looking for him.”

Putting his hands firmly on his thighs, he stuck his chest out and announced, “But I’m going. I don’t care if I go alone or not. I have to try.”

She settled her work in her lap, and then turned enough to examine his conviction. Then she softly called, “Edward.”

The man who had retrieved Gerald stepped up so that she could see him. “Lady Terrell?”

“Gerald Reginald has taken it upon himself to go after his cousin. Because he is Vincent’s son, and you know the head councilmember would be displeased if he lost him, you pursued him.” She never looked at him as she spoke, only at her hands, which she held in her lap. “You and another man.”

The guard pointed out, “Milady, if I were to pursue, I would be lax in my protection of you.”

She looked up at him, her blue eyes now brimming with tears. “Edward Quinnlain,” she whispered. “If I lose my youngest son, I will no longer need protection, for I would just---die.”

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-2-

“We’re not going to find him, are we?” It was probably the twentieth time Gerald had asked the question since they had left Devisha.

The first time, Edward had been kind, but now, it was becoming irritating. “Must you keep asking that?” the man growled at him, causing the second guard to chuckle.

This male was a large hulk of a man, with deep brown eyes, below his short-cropped hair of the same color; his countenance, though, did not fit his size. He was young, kind, and ambitious. He had just recently been promoted from the Portal City guard to castle guard, which he was proud of, but happier still given he already had a young wife and two children.

“Mendon,” Gerald snapped, pushing brush away from his face as they had abandoned their horses some time ago and now searched on foot. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”

Clarence shrugged as he squashed another large clump of foliage under his large foot. “You’ve asked it quite a bit.

You’re sounding like a whiny child, Master Gerald. My two revolution old son is less annoying.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll shut up,” he grumbled, coming to a sudden halt as Edward raised his hand. They heard men’s voices straight ahead of them.

Edward parted the brush slowly, enough to give him a view of the group. “Mountain men. Eight,” he softly informed. “They look like Dasean.”

“Who cares what tribe they’re from?” Gerald admonished, trying to peer past Edward. “There are only three of us.”

Clarence softly chuckled. “Three? Are you joking? Do you even know how to draw that thing?” Tapping the sheath that held Gerald’s short sword, he continued his amusement.

“I’ll have you know, I’m not all that bad!” Gerald attempted to appear angry. “I can take care of myself!” he said, motioning to where there was a horse with a crude harness, fixed to a litter. “Look, there.”

“How much would you wager,” Clarence asked, “that they have found Master Jason?”

“That would be a good bet,” Edward agreed.

“They may just be looking for him too,” Gerald voiced in denial, causing both men to look hard at him. “Okay, maybe not.”

Edward motioned with one hand to the tribesmen on the edge of the small clearing. “I can take out him with my

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dagger and the other two by the litter.”

Clarence offered, “I’ll get the four on the other side.” He raised an axe in one hand.

“That leaves me the guy in the middle,” Gerald announced. “Closest to us, right?”

Edward nodded.

Clarence started to move away from them then paused, and said to Gerald, “Stay out of my way. Once I start swinging there’s no telling whose head I’ll chop off.”

“Sure,” Gerald swallowed, and then followed the men. At the edge of the clearing he stopped, hearing the whine of steel and watching Edward let his dagger go and make his mark right between the eyes of one of their enemies. Gerald looked at his own foe, pulling his sword and standing frozen as Clarence yanked his axe out of the chest of his first victim, while plunging his dagger into the forehead of the second. The mountain man smiled at Gerald, his grin wide as he laughed, taking out his own weapon. Gerald raised his blade, poised it with two hands and found that his palms were sweaty. He readied for the assault, but it never came, as the male fell forward dead, Clarence’s axe plowed into the middle of his shoulder blades. Gerald blinked, looking around to find Edward pulling his dagger from the first man then wiping the blood off of it and onto the enemy’s clothing. He did the same with his short sword.

Clarence stepped up to his last kill, fixing his boot to the man’s shoulder then yanking out the axe from his back.

He laughed, looking at Gerald and expelling, “That was pretty good, boy. And you stared him dead!”

Edward laughed with him as he sheathed his blade.

“I would have got him eventually,” Gerald said.

Edward passed him to go towards the horse and litter, smacking him on the arm and ushering, “We didn’t have that much time. Now come on.” Lady Terrell’s lead guard walked closer, seeing Jason in the litter, his color gray. He took a deep breath then knelt on one knee by him, reaching out and pressing his fingers to his jugular.

“Is he dead?” Gerald had dropped to his knees on the other side of where Edward was, unable to keep the desperation from his voice.

“Close,” Edward reluctantly admitted, leaning back and putting his hands to his thighs as he considered. He took the boy’s wrist, knowing the arm was shattered, and, from the angle of his right knee, he knew that was broken too. Again moving closer, he grasped Jason’s jaw, turning his head and finding blood on his lips.

Clarence motioned to the injured boy, and then told them, “This is pretty extensive. Even if we could get him to the Galactic Council medical facility in the Portal City, what’re his chances?”

“Not good,” Edward admitted.

Gerald glanced first to one man and then to the other. “What do we do?”

Edward rested his green eyes on Clarence. “You know there is only one thing to do.”

“We will die for it,” Clarence pointed out. “If Lord Terrell were to find out.”

Edward shook his head, again examining Jason. “That’s to say if we could even get there.”

“Or find it,” Clarence agreed.

“Find what?” Gerald hurried, still shifting back from one guard to the next.

“I’ll take responsibility for this,” Edward said, ignoring Gerald. “I’ll go. You return to Devisha and let Lady Terrell know we have found him.”

“No,” Clarence disagreed. “You’ll need protection until you reach the bog. Then I’ll go.” Indicating Gerald, he said, “The master swordsman is going to be of no help.”

“Hey!” Gerald spat. “And what in the Beast’s name are we doing?”

Edward stolidly replied, “We are going to take him to the Master Healer of Fendon.”

Gerald appeared puzzled. “The who of what?”

“The Master Healer,” Clarence explained. “He cares for Master when he’s only animal.”

Gerald exclaimed, “But, if I go into the bog, being a Terrell, and if I’m not worthy, Master will kill me!”

Edward informed, as he stood, “That’s why you’re going back with Clarence.”

“No, I’m not,” he said, getting to his feet.

“Master Gerald.” Edward’s tone was chastising. “If you’re not the Terrell who can wear the medallion of the Beast and join with him, and you step past the boundary of the bog, he will kill you.”

Motioning to his friend, Gerald announced, “He can’t! So, Master will kill him.”

“Maybe, but Master Jason will die anyway if I don’t try. I must attempt to reach the Master Healer.” Edward went to the horse that was attached to the litter. “I’ll head that way, Mendon. You and Master Gerald go and get our horses.

The large male just nodded then gave Gerald a small shove in that direction.

Edward glanced back, finding that the litter was rudely constructed, but was holding together well. He considered it file:///N|/projects/RiteOfPassage_April_2011/RiteofPassage_htmlformat.htm[4/11/2011 10:34:58 PM]

was probably often used to transport the tribesmen’s kills. As he made the road, he went across it, away from the Dearden Forest and towards the Devin Plain. Ironically, the trek would take him within sight of Devisha, but he knew there would be no help there. No, Robert would gladly watch his youngest son die, for what reason no one had yet discerned. However, it was clear to every guard who worked for the Terrell family that for some reason Jason didn’t have his father’s favor.

Once through the dense brush, Edward jumped to the back of the horse and directed him down a steeper pathway, pulling hard on the reins to steady him so that the transport would not slip. When he reached another downgrade that would take him towards the bog, he found Gerald and Clarence waiting for him.

Clarence acknowledged him, and then pointed towards Devisha. “It’ll take you the better part of the night with the litter. Once on the Devin plain you should be safe enough.”

Edward agreed, “May Master keep you.”

“And you,” Clarence returned, watching him take the litter and horse slowly in the other direction away from Devisha.

Gerald still was fixed there, even though Clarence had turned his horse towards Devisha. He realized he was being left, so reined his own around, kicking him to make him catch up to the guard. “So, you’re new in the castle guard?”

“It would appear so,” Clarence responded, without turning to look at him.

The boy sighed with slight indignation. “If you’re so new, why did Edward pick you to go with us?”

Clarence frowned, given he had no desire to speak with the Terrell, but apparently he would persist. “My brother is a castle guard, my father was, and two of my uncles still, but for Masters Stephen and Richard.”

Gerald shook his head and grinned. “You know that still doesn’t explain why Edward picked you. You don’t align with Master, do you?” Not giving him a chance to respond, he hurried, “Everyone knows that Edward does. That’s why my uncle hasn’t made him director, even though he holds seniority in the guard.”

Now Clarence did rest a curious expression on him, shifting his weight then dropping the reins. He took his axe from the side of the saddle, and then turned it some, fastening it again.

“You know,” Gerald harped, “you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to. I’m used to it.”

Instead of responding to his comment, Clarence asked, “How do you know so much? A boy, albeit eight revolutions?”

“Hey,” Gerald smiled, “did you know on Terra that’s about ten and a half years?” Not stopping there, he continued, “And I don’t know. Jason told me.”

“I care little for Terra or the Galactic Council and it’s rumored that Master Jason is given no consideration by Lord Terrell, so how would he know this?”

Gerald shrugged, watching Devisha loom larger in front of them. “He knows a lot of stuff. I don’t really know how. He just does.”

Noting he spoke about his cousin with a great deal of pride, Clarence questioned, “Do you know why Lord Terrell is displeased with his youngest son?”

Gerald shook his head. “No. Neither does Jason.”

Clarence just grunted, settling to silence as they came to Devisha. The courtyard guard was changing shifts. He acknowledged several men then gave, “Master Gerald, I need to put these animals up. Go into Devisha and tell Lady Terrell that Master Jason has been found.”

“Sure.” He climbed down, waving his hand and saying, “Nice talking to you.” He walked towards the entry, moving inside and considering it was about time for late meal. He headed for the dining room, thinking as he passed Lord Terrell’s office that he was safe, since the doors were open, but it was empty. This caused him to smile, and then whistle softly, oblivious to his surroundings since he dwelled on the fact that Jason had been found. He was so encumbered by his thoughts that he overlooked the two guards that were his uncle’s at the dining room door, but he did hear Lord Terrell’s distinctly deep voice, but not soon enough to stop himself from being seen at the entry.

He stood there, looking like a deer in the headlights since Robert had already leveled a caustic expression on him.

“Well, are you going to stand there like a fool, or come in?” he snapped at him.

“Stand here like a fool?” the boy barely shoved out.

Vincent was on Robert’s left and had turned around to see to whom Robert spoke, so he ordered, “Gerald, come and sit down.”

“Yes, Father,” he reluctantly agreed. He settled across from the women and one chair away from Michael, Jason’s older brother, at the end of the table. Michael looked nothing like his younger sibling. Not having earned the mark of the direct line, he was more feminine. Though tall, his frame was less than adequate, his looks lighter, his hair the color of his mother’s, his features softer, though permanently marked with a forced sneer.

He mouthed at Gerald, “Bastard.” file:///N|/projects/RiteOfPassage_April_2011/RiteofPassage_htmlformat.htm[4/11/2011 10:34:58 PM]

Gerald looked away from him and across the table to where Elizabeth sat, the young woman gently picking over her food; he was not lax in glaring at her. He now looked at Lady Deloris, who smiled and then he nodded to, causing her eyes to fill with gratitude.

Robert saw the exchange, since his wife sat to his right. He examined each in turn then barked at Gerald, “I haven’t seen you since last rotation. Where’ve you been?”

“I…” He shifted nervously in the chair, fiddling with the base of his tunic as he remembered he had changed his clothing and was now wearing black. “…around.”

“Around?” Robert viciously interrogated. “Where?”

“Just around, my Lord, around,” he explained, waving his hand in the air, “here.”

“I haven’t seen you either,” Michael chimed in. “And when I was taking instruction, your master of arms was looking for you. He said he couldn’t find you anywhere.” He stuffed a hunk of bread in his mouth and sputtered, “I said anywhere.”

Gerald looked hard at him. “I was around.” He noted that his father and his Uncle Richard were both looking at him.

Robert smacked his hand to the top of the table, aggressively biting, “How would you like to go around with me, boy?”

“No, sir,” he swallowed, knowing what he meant. Now is about the time Jason would step in to defend him, but he wasn’t here. “I wouldn’t like that at all.”

Robert threatened, “Then if you don’t want your ass whipped with a strap you’d best start talking.”

Gerald broke away from him, seeing that Elizabeth thought his predicament amusing. “There’s nothing funny. So stop laughing at me!”

Vincent was drawn to Elizabeth as his son spoke, so gave her a hard stare, which caused her to drop her sight to her plate.

Gerald responded to Robert, clearing his throat first then unconsciously fingering the side of his plate. “If you have to know I went looking for Jason.”

Robert leaned back in the chair, sliding his hands to the arms of it as he critically examined him.

“I was, I mean, no one else was going to look for him and he’s my cousin.” Feeling the pressure of tears since Robert said nothing, he admitted, “I thought, maybe I could find him.”

“Did you?” his Uncle Richard asked. The question caused William to look up from his plate.

“No,” he mumbled, looking away from Robert.

“Did you go alone?” Robert pressed through a tight jaw.

“Yes,” he lied. “Sure, I went alone. If I didn’t I might get someone in trouble.”

Robert drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair, the gem in the ring of office on his right index finger dancing under the light.

Deloris examined Robert, knowing that expression. He didn’t believe the boy and at any moment, he would make him tell the truth. “Husband,” she meekly called. But he did not turn to look at her, still fixed with Gerald. “My guard told me Gerald had gone and knowing that you did not want Jason found, I sent Edward after him.”

He settled on her, his expression unkind. “Who told you I didn’t want the boy found?”

Opening her mouth to respond, she realized she had made a huge mistake. “Is,” she tempted, “not sending a search for him and recalling one in the process an indication--” He abruptly snapped, “Shut up!”

Vincent looked at Deloris, watching her bring her hand to her face and eyes to her lap. Then to his brother, who again paid attention to Gerald.

Robert changed his tone, slowly edging the next out, “Where’s Quinnlain, Gerald?” Now the boy visibly paled.

“Gerald?”

He shook his head, not looking at him.

Lord Terrell had stopped drumming his fingers when confronting his wife, but now took up the ritual again as he examined his nephew. “All right, Gerald, you’ve made your decision.” Standing, he indicated Gerald follow him.

Gerald slinked out of the chair, biting back tears as he considered he hated being Robert’s ward. It was like having two fathers, especially since his own was on Deneb Five a great deal of the time, rather than his councilship planet of Vantar. Jason had told him that Vincent held a great deal of power in the Empire and he ran it through his older brother.

Of course, Gerald had sworn not to say anything, given his father could easily view the judgment as treason. He wished Jason were here. He always knew what to say to Robert. It never was anything that deterred him from being whipped, but it was often sarcastic and landed his cousin on the floor more than once. Nevertheless, Jason persisted. Moreover, it always file:///N|/projects/RiteOfPassage_April_2011/RiteofPassage_htmlformat.htm[4/11/2011 10:34:58 PM]

saved Gerald. Gerald knew Jason was afraid of Robert, but dared not allow his father’s chastisement to damage his honor any. In fact, he had told Gerald innumerable times he was going to be whipped or beaten anyway, so why not say what he wanted to?

He felt like his boots were filled with lead as he followed his uncle into the office, reluctantly closing the door behind him. “I really don’t know where Edward is,” he meekly said as Robert moved to his desk. Instead of being fixed to him, he rested on the strap his uncle had retrieved. It was not simply just a piece of leather but had small shards of stone that caused welts to form rather quickly with the use of it. The whipping Gerald could probably stand, but the fact that the application left him unable to sit or ride for five rotations he could not. “I don’t,” he whispered as Robert moved towards him, the tears breaking as he did.

“Stop wasting my time,” Robert ordered him, tapping the end of the strap in his opposite hand.

“Yes, sir,” Gerald mumbled, reluctantly grabbing the fastener on his breeches, fumbling to unfasten them given his tears had clouded his vision. After he had reached success he moved to the back of the couch, knowing that was best, given he had to force himself to remain still. He had once not and his uncle had just hit him randomly, not even caring if he struck him in the face with the cruel leather. He settled there, closing his eyes, clenching his fists, and then gritting his teeth.

Robert saw him prepare for the onslaught, raising the strap above his shoulder, then letting it go. He had no sympathy for the boy, who was his youngest son’s best friend and unbeknownst to him an actual mistake. Robert had drunk too much one night and unable to cover his wife, in his stupor, Robert had given her to Vincent. No, he had ordered Vincent to fuck her. Gerald was the result. She was sworn to secrecy, as was Vincent, other than telling others that Gerald was a bastard out of a serving woman, despite the fact that he was direct line. Now he oversaw the boy who had somehow settled to be his youngest son’s comrade.

In addition, he hated Jason. For more reasons than he would care to account. The first being that when he was conceived his wife had told him that Master had come to her in a dream and told her the child she carried was special.

Then when he was born, he was all direct line, as he was. And after Gerald and with Michael’s lack of his mark he started to doubt who fathered him. He was no fool, Deloris and his brother, Vincent, had always been more than fond of each other. He would daresay that Vincent loved her, but kept it hidden.

He paused from the whipping, the boy’s backend marred with large welts from the delivery. Watching him shake as he sobbed, he barked, “Where’s Edward, Gerald?” All he could do was shake his head, so he continued the whipping, despite the boy’s pleading with him to be tolerant.

Special. His son was special. Clever, quick, and though he knew Robert would retaliate, Jason was never lax in challenging him. It infuriated him. Oddly enough, it was rarely Gerald who was in this position, it was typically Jason.

However, Robert found ways in which to put his youngest in trouble, even if he wasn’t. Deloris’s words plagued him, given she implied that Master had some interest in the boy. Again, he paused, steadily asking, “You’d best start talking, bastard, before I whip your hide permanently off.”

Gerald had shoved his fist to his mouth in an attempt to stifle his prolonged distress. He considered that his legs felt numb, his butt was on fire, the places on the back of his thighs that had been whipped stinging painfully. Before his uncle could resume the beating, he stood, hiking his breeches to shield himself. “Please, my Lord…” he admitted, almost falling as he stumbled backwards and away from him. “We found Jason, we did.”

Robert clenched his jaw, his eyes daggers, as he looked at him, reserving no aggression. “Quinnlain is with him?”

Gerald simply nodded.

“Where!” he shouted.

“I can’t…” he started, shaking his head, given the knowledge would surely cause Robert to kill Edward. He yelled as his uncle grabbed for him, clenching the back of his short dark hair in his fist then dragging him by it to where he had been before. Overcome Gerald tried his best to shield himself with his hands as he was viciously whipped, the instrument cutting into his fingers until they bled.

Jason alive. Robert could have hoped to end the power of the Beast without having a possible surrogate for the creature. People puzzled with Robert’s position, given he was direct line and his father, Trent, had been a devout follower.

However, his father had not fallen victim to the Beast’s wrath, but Robert had. And along with it, the death of the only woman he had ever loved. He could never forgive Master, despite the fact that he and she had trespassed into the bog where the creature resides. They knew the penalty, but until Jason was born, he could never understand why Master had killed her and left him. But, when the boy came and Deloris told him of her dream, he knew. And he would never allow any son of his to pursue the power of the Beast.

Pausing from the exertion, he yanked hard on the boy’s hair. “Tell me!”

Gerald gasped, shoving out in a scream, “The Master Healer’s!” file:///N|/projects/RiteOfPassage_April_2011/RiteofPassage_htmlformat.htm[4/11/2011 10:34:58 PM]

Robert’s stomach dropped cold as he slowly released Gerald. Marcus of Fendon, the Master Healer and keeper of the medallion, servant to the Beast. For Quinnlain to risk this, the boy must have been near death. There would be no retrieving him from there. He would have to wait until they came back on their own.

Gerald had collapsed to the floor, cradling his hands, small droplets of the blood spattering on his breeches and the dark rich carpet.

“Get up,” Robert ordered. “You’re bleeding on the floor.” Observing how he fumbled to reorder himself, he added, “And get out.”

Gerald obeyed, barely able to handle the door since the knob became slippery with his bodily fluids. He was unable to contain his tears, painfully climbing the stairs and walking towards the ones that led to his chambers. He stopped, since from Lord Terrell’s chambers emerged his aunt. Deloris’s expression filled with concern as she saw him. Clarence was one of the guards at the door, so she ordered, “Hurry, get me something to bandage his hands.” The man trotted away from them and hurried down the stairs. She slipped her arm around the boy’s waist then urged him to come with her as she cradled his injured hands in her other.

They entered the chambers. They were large, the bedroom secondary to the outer one. They stayed here, and she brought Gerald closer to the fire and allowed him to kneel near to a chair. She retreated, her bare feet gliding over the short, warm, blue carpet that backed the decadent outline of the comfortable room.

She went to a large bath, where she dampened a towel and secured several rags. When she came back to him, she saw that he was crying even harder as he attempted to wipe away the blood from the white chair that had stained the cloth.

“Gerald, Gerald,” she purred, stopping him. “No, you’re making it worse.”

“I’m sorry,” he choked.

“Do not be sorry, baby. It is all right.” She laid one of the towels over the stains and then sat there. Laying another on her lap, she set his hands there in order to survey the damage. “Tell me of Jason, Gerald.”

He sniffled, wincing as she urged him to straighten his fingers so that she could wipe them off. “He was beaten real bad.”

Satisfied that none appeared broken, though several lacerations were almost to the bone, she nodded, ushering, “Mm, hmm.”

“Edward, he said Jason would die if he didn’t do something right away. So he took Jason to the Master Healer.”

Deloris stopped her attention, scanning the boy’s features and asking, “The bog?”

He agreed. “Aunt, I’m telling you, Jason was bad. When we found him, we thought he was dead.”

“You’ve--” She stopped speaking, given Clarence had entered the room with material for bandaging Gerald’s hands. He set it on the table next to where she sat and then he retreated. “You’ve---told your uncle?”

Trying not to well with distress, he admitted, “Yes. Jason’s going to hate me. Now Edward will be killed, and Jason, well, I can’t even imagine what Lord Terrell will do to him.”

Again, she purred, “No, no, Gerald, Jason won’t hate you. He’ll understand. And as for Edward, he knew the risks.”

Since there was a soft knock on the door, she sang, “Come in.”

Vincent stepped past the barrier, and, moving close to them both, he looked down at his son.

“Vincent,” Deloris did not hesitate with admonishment. “You should have intervened with this. The boy is lucky he still has all of his fingers.”

Vincent smiled softly at her as she looked up at him, and then said to Gerald, “You know I’ve told you before when you’re whipped, not to try and shield yourself.”

“I know, Father. But,” he told him, his lower lip quivering, “he wouldn’t stop.”

“And how does your hands being placed in the way help in this?” He folded his arms and looked hard at him.

“Stop crying, Gerald. You’re no longer being whipped.”

“But it still hurts,” he argued. “I won’t be able to sit or ride for rotations!”

“That’s no excuse,” Vincent pounded. “You react like a woman.”

Deloris sat back and said quite smartly, “Now, there. All better.” She reached out, putting her arms around Gerald’s shoulders and hugging him. “You are a good boy, Gerald. You know how intolerant your uncle is and I am sorry for it.”

She broke the embrace, smiling and suggesting, “Now you go to bed. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

He climbed to his feet, reaching down and kissing her on the side of the face. “All right, Aunt.”

Deloris busied herself in folding the material as Vincent sat down on the couch across from where she was. He fixed his sight to the fire and said nothing, but was drawn to her as she did.

“Edward took Jason to the Master Healer’s and Robert knows.”

He tightened his jaw. “That may not have been the smartest thing. The healer may not accept him and Master may kill them both.” file:///N|/projects/RiteOfPassage_April_2011/RiteofPassage_htmlformat.htm[4/11/2011 10:34:58 PM]

“Gerald said Jason was close to death,” she pointed out as she peered at him.

“Hmm.” Leaning forward, he put his elbows on his knees and folded his hands.

“What’s bothering you, Vincent?” she asked.

He shook his head and said, “Just matters within the Empire, that’s all. I fear a division in the House of Terrell with Robert’s persistence at banning the worship of Master. I fear this will interfere more readily with the political necessities that need to be addressed with our new ally and others.”

Studying his handsome lines, his pensive nature, she assured, “You’ll figure it out, Vincent, as you always do.”

He smiled at her. “Not always, sister. But Robert is wrestling with his own demons and we may be left behind.

There’re governments out there, Deloris,” he iterated, becoming passionate, “that if we could tap their knowledge we could be even greater. If we could somehow focus on a market and capitalize on it.”

“You said the proposal for designing planetary defense system was promising.” She set the bandages next to her.

He shook his head. “That’s small, compared to what we could do,” he said, chewing on the words. “If Robert could stay focused. And not succumb to some of his councilmembers’ whims.”

“Like William?”

“Exactly.” He straightened, and leaned back in the couch. “But William and others pursue their own wealth, instead of that of the good of the Empire, with no repercussions.”

“And what would you do if you were Lord Terrell?” she issued softly, considering that if he were, she would be his and not Robert’s.

“Honestly, I don’t know. But something should at least be said.” He shifted his sight over her features, which were what they always were for him: loving. “Don’t you think?”

She laughed. “What I think is that I am a woman and too ill equipped to be the judge of Lord Terrell’s actions or that of any other man’s.”

“Always truly Denebian.” He pondered his next words for a moment. “And the true diplomat; so tell me, what role in Jason’s discovery did you play?”

She admitted as she smoothed her hand over the off-white skirt of the gown she wore, “One that would earn me at minimum a beating.”

“Your secret is safe.” He stood, and then stopped as she called to him.

“Vincent, what do you think of Miss Elizabeth?”

That caused his expression to turn sour. “She’s tainted with the Dranten line and annoying.”

“Oh, Vincent, she is mainly Satarian in heritage, you know this!” She disagreed. “You must pay her some attention.

You know Robert will expect it.”

He drew a deep breath, leveling his sight on her and giving, “All right. She’s not you.”

“I wish,” she quietly informed him, “you would stop saying such things to me, Vincent. I am Robert’s. You know this. If he were to even suspect that you hold such feelings for me--” “Of course he knows!” He waved both hands as if giving up. “That’s why he wants me to join with that chattel!”

Deloris shook her head. “You are the head councilmember. What you consider movable property will give you an heir to the head councilship.”

“I have my heir,” he said, referring to Gerald. “You know this.”

“Robert would never approve. For him to admit that he gave me to you. That I conceived a son? That Gerald is ours!” In her exclamation her blue eyes went wide, her voice raised ever so slightly. “Robert would never admit such a mistake!”

“Maybe, but…” Shaking his head, he glanced at the door then back to her. “I would have it otherwise.”

She looked across the room and to the balcony windows, seeing the fading light of the outside. “As would I, Vincent.”

He reached out, laying his hand to her shoulder. Briefly touching his fingertips to her collarbone, he withdrew and said, “Stay well, sister.”

Without looking at him, she muttered, “And you, Vincent.”

He withdrew, glancing at the stairs that led to the upper part of the castle. He took them, two at a time, forcing down any weak emotions that wanted to surface. He climbed the last and then turned to the left until he reached Gerald’s door. He pushed it open, seeing his son still dressed, lying on the bed in the fetal position, his hands away from his body and cradled on a pillow. The room was cold, the fire having died and Gerald having left the small window above his bed open. He went to this, closing it, and then took a folded blanket from the end of the bed. He started to put it over his son, finding that his eyes were open, just staring to the wall. After he had settled the blanket, Vincent sat behind him on the bed.

“I have some advice, son.” file:///N|/projects/RiteOfPassage_April_2011/RiteofPassage_htmlformat.htm[4/11/2011 10:34:58 PM]

“I know,” he hoarsely said. “Keep my hands out of the way, next time.”

“No, Gerald, that’s advice, but I’ve already given it.” He then explained, “You must learn to read people. And keeping information from Lord Terrell will only get you beaten or worse. When he’s at his breaking point, he is quiet, critical, and judgmental. It’s best just to give him what he wants or suffer the consequences.”

“I’ve compromised Jason,” he mumbled. “My uncle’s going to kill him.”

“Edward, maybe. Jason, no. After all, he had no control over Quinnlain’s decision.”

Gerald snorted his disagreement. “Yeah, right. You know he finds some way to blame Jason all the time whether or not it’s his fault. I bet he’ll even blame him for being attacked in the first place. He’s a prick.”

Vincent shifted his weight, slapping Gerald in the back of the head, though he restrained the force, given his condition. “You know better than to speak such words about your leader.”

“I don’t care,” Gerald mumbled. “I hate him.”

Vincent stood. “Get some rest, son.”

“Yes, Father.”

Vincent left, shutting the door softly then heading down the first flight of stairs. He hesitated. Elizabeth was supposed to be in chamber twenty-four, on this floor. Drawing the cool air into his lungs, he released it slowly. Deloris was right; if he paid her no attention, Robert would notice. Worse than this, he would check with her guards. He headed down the dim causeway and towards where he saw two guards at the door. They acknowledged him as he stopped, Vincent eyeing them as they were part of Councilmember Ryan’s staff. He put his hand to the barrier to push it open and stepped into the room, which was warm given the high fire in the fireplace.

The young woman had been sitting on the bed and immediately came to her feet at the sight of him. She quickly reached for the blanket throw that lay next to her and brought it in front of the thin nightgown she wore, her eyes wide with concern.

His said nothing to her, just held his hand out to the loveseat that was positioned in front of the fire. He watched her follow his direction, settling at one end then covering her lower form with the blanket. Not that he could see anything given the dressing covered her to her wrists and was buttoned all the way to her neck. He was sure the lower part went to the floor.

Elizabeth clutched her hands in her lap, and then briefly touched her mouth where he had struck her. She then settled to the same position, her eyes fixed to her small fingers.

Vincent studied her, seeing that her soft brown hair was quite long, falling over her shoulders and going to her waist. She was absolutely more endowed than the majority of Denebian females, given most were fine and petite, and though she was not much taller than many, she was definitely shapelier. He took solace in this, as even Deloris was a fine, small woman.

Elizabeth continued to stare at her lap, wondering why he would even be here and even more curious as to why he said nothing. She knew it was entirely inappropriate for her to start conversation with a male member of the household, so she remained fixed. She was startled as she felt him press his fingertips under her chin, and then urge her to look at him.

He examined her blue eyes, which were also darker than most other Terrell women’s were. The structure of her face was long, with high-defined cheekbones and soft round lips; these trembled with a lack of assuredness as he studied her. It just struck him that she was quite beautiful. He drew his hand away. He should have a conversation with her. That’s what he should do, but what would they discuss? They had nothing in common. At least with Deloris he could discuss their son, Robert, Master, but this woman knew nothing of any of those things. “Are you,” he hedged, “comfortable?”

She simply nodded.

“It was probably quite frightening being attacked.” He tried a different subject, but again she just gave him silent agreement. “The boy you were laughing at is my son.” He sighed hard since she said nothing. Therefore, he tried again, “He tends to be impetuous and doesn’t always think things out. You see, Master Jason and he are best friends and he well believed his words to Lord Terrell may endanger him.” Since she again said nothing, he snapped, “Can’t you speak?”

She looked at him. “Yes, Master Vincent. I can speak, but I fear I may say something wrong again.”

Instead of taking the blame upon himself for slapping her, he told her, “Jason was out of line speaking to a virgin female of the household the way he did. I had no idea the words were not yours. I should be cross with him.”

“I asked,” she blurted, since she liked the boy and would hate to get him into trouble. “I mean,” she hedged, given his eyes held no emotion. “I didn’t know what the tribesman wanted to do to me. I didn’t know,” she stammered since his expression gathered with a degree of disapproval. “That…men and women are different.”

“What do you think? Of course they’re different.” He didn’t really mean to sound chastising, but it came out that way.

Feeling as if he was no more forgiving than her father, she agreed, “Yes, Master Vincent.” file:///N|/projects/RiteOfPassage_April_2011/RiteofPassage_htmlformat.htm[4/11/2011 10:34:58 PM]

Then he fired, “If Jason does come back to Devisha, if you do see him again, you’re not to speak to him of such things.”

“Yes, Master Vincent,” she whispered, trying to swallow any impending distress as she looked at the fire.

“He has begun to have an interest in females. Unfortunately, he does so freely and with brazen confidence.” He waited for her to have an epiphany, but she said nothing. “In fact,” he stamped, “you’re not to speak to him at all.”

Her mouth open, she brought her sight quickly to him. “Not at all?”

“No.” “But, he’s--he’s the only friend I have here!” She appeared exasperated.

“It’s,” he admonished between his teeth, “unseemly for a young woman to have a friendship with a boy. You’ll find such solace from the other women in this household.”

Now moisture did fill her eyes. “But he’s done nothing inappropriate!”

“He’s spoken to you, improperly!” His words came out as a shout. “And apparently befriended you in less than a rotation!”

“It wasn’t all his doing!” she came back at him, crying out as he grabbed her forearm and jerked her over his lap.

The blanket had fallen away; he raised his hand, swatting her hard three times on her backend.

Elizabeth crawled from his lap, her rump stinging painfully.

“Don’t argue with me!” He raised his voice over her crying then stood. Turning from her, he opened the door to leave, slamming it behind him. He made the second floor, seeing that Lord Terrell’s guards were by the Lord and Lady’s chamber doors. He raised his fist, pounding on the closed barrier. He heard his brother respond for entry so he swung the door open, allowing it to fall just as heavily as he had Elizabeth’s door.

Robert was by the desk in the room that was set towards the windows, his eyes fixed to the computer monitor.

Deloris was still sitting where she had been before, now reading. Without looking up, Lord Terrell said, “Wife, leave us.”

After she had retreated, Vincent spouted, “I like her not at all, brother!”

Robert stood, grabbing the glass of fantash he had off the desk then moving to the couch. He sat down, put his feet on the table, rather slowly, and then crossed his legs.

“You heard me, I know! I refuse to join with her!”

Robert shrugged. “All right, I’ll move William in your place.”

At a total loss for words for a moment, Vincent finally pushed out, “Replace me? On what grounds?”

Robert set the now empty glass heavily on the end table then stood. He moved closer, moving right in front of Vincent. He leaned so that their eyes were locked. “For compromising Lady Terrell and in so doing, getting her with a bastard child.”

“By your design!”

Robert pulled away and sneered, “Now, who’s going to believe that?”

Vincent simmered, as he watched him walk back to the computer. “No one,” he admitted. “Given Gerald will clearly show the register of her and my DNA and you will frighten her into lying to the rest of your council.”

“Exactly.” Robert folded his arms, looking at the data on the computer. “I’ve seen this information from our operatives. It appears as if the Thunusians are testing a new light speed device. They’re using neutrinos to boost acceleration. They’ve designed a collector.” He stopped, given he saw Vincent walk past where he was then stand by the windows to look out into the darkness. Robert pushed himself from the monitor then stood next to him, putting his hand on his shoulder and soothingly giving, “Vincent, Vincent, you must look at the positives. She’s a sweet young thing. Half your age. She’ll give you many sons and, given her virgin status, you can train her as you will.”

“I have no desire to train her,” Vincent said through a tight jaw.

“You would like for me to help?” Robert chuckled.

Vincent shoved his hand off him. “I need nothing from you, brother”.

“All right,” he said, indicating the monitor. “Then should we discuss the Thunusians?”

“No,” Vincent said with a degree of finality. “I’m tired. It’ll have to wait.”

Robert put his hands on his hips as he watched him depart, shaking his head and smiling slightly. He walked to the bedroom, pushed open the door and found it empty. The bathroom door was closed, so he went that way. He went past it, fixed with the semi-transparent shower doors and his wife’s form. She was a slight Terrell woman, but her curves were balanced just enough to make one overlook her thinness. Her hips and backside were rounder than most, her breasts pert and firm, their pinnacles alert. She had not heard him come in, so he just stood enjoying the sight of her meticulously cleansing herself. As she shut off the water, he pulled a towel from a shelf above the toilet, and then turned as she stepped out.

Custom directed she dropped her eyes to the floor, not looking up even as he put the soft towel around her file:///N|/projects/RiteOfPassage_April_2011/RiteofPassage_htmlformat.htm[4/11/2011 10:34:58 PM]

shoulders.

He leaned closer, brushing his lips over her face and to her ear, softly asking, “Are you getting wet for me?”

Deloris shuddered. She hated many things about her husband including his temper, his treatment of their youngest son, his treatment of her, but this, this she loved about him. The man’s sexual prowess was staggering. Any woman who had been honored by him would resoundingly agree. He always pleasured her as if she meant something to him, though she knew that was the farthest thing from the truth. “Only for you, my Lord.” She slipped her arms to his strong shoulders as he put his hands on either side of her face and cradled her there as he kissed her.

He gently brushed his lips over hers, tenderly caressing her by sliding his fingertips down her spine, then to her backside, feeling her quake against him as he did. As he moved the contact of his warm lips to the side of her face, then down to her collarbone, she swallowed her cry of delight since he gently explored her eager bosom, then followed to her middle with his mouth. This was the only avenue in which her husband would go to his knees in front of her, but she encouraged the change of position by touching her hands to his hair as he used his own hands to open the outer folds of her womanhood then kissed her more personally. It took everything in her power to follow custom and not let loose her verbal acceptance, since he went tenderly, but eagerly, pressing his palms to her backend as he fed off of her. Since he focused his attention on her now eager receptor, she felt the impending orgasm build and her vaginal tract expel beginning moisture.

He rubbed the front of her thighs, breaking off his attention just before she began pulsating with satisfaction, also pressing his mouth to her soft skin. He knew by her shuddering acceptance she wanted him to continue, but instead he stood, putting his hand firmly under her chin and pressuring her to look up at him. He took his middle and index fingers, tracing the line of her soft lips for several minutes as he studied her eyes. “Do you,” he deeply asked her, “think of Vincent when I touch you?”

“No,” she said, catching his fingertips with her tongue as she spoke. “No never, my Lord.”

“I don’t believe you,” he told her simply.

Deloris scanned his features, feeling her anxiety rise, as this was often the approach he used to become cross with her.

“Did you have anything to do with finding Jason?”

Visibly swallowing her disquiet, she denied, “No, husband. I swear.”

“If Quinnlain returns with the boy, will he say the same?”

“Yes,” she whispered. She watched him step away from her, her fear contained, at least outwardly. She followed him from the bath, observing how he drew the shirt he wore off slowly, his eyes for the bed, and the tension in his jaw evident. As he sat down on the edge of the furniture, she came closer, going to her knees in front of him in order to pull off his boots.

He watched her, how her long hair draped over his legs, her smooth back arching as she pulled with effort, her backside tight with strain. After she set down the second, he observed her turn to him, sliding her small hands up on his legs, finally reaching to where she could let loose his maleness.

She did so slowly, concerned since his member was not at its usual attention. No, he was still thinking of her answers, evidenced by his semi-erect consideration of her. So, she scooted forward, pressing her lips to his pinnacle, then sliding her tongue around it as she caressed him with her hand by wrapping it as far as she could, given his girth, then moved the restriction in unison with her mouth. Normally he would touch her hair, applying pressure gently to her back and neck as she pleased him, but she felt no such contact this time. She also thought that her efforts were less than fruitful and she had no doubt his blood flow was directed to his temper and not his member. She pulled back from him, considering climbing into his lap, given she was probably still damp from his attention to her, but then noted how he sat, his palms flat behind him, his expression dark. She could not control the fact that his look made her afraid, so she reluctantly asked, “My Lord, have I done something to displease you?”

“Are you lying to me, Deloris?”

She hesitated. “About what?”

“About Jason, what else!” he shouted at her.

She shook her head, the tears now brimming. She forced, “No, my Lord.”

He stood quite suddenly, turning from her as he reordered himself. He started for the door then came to a halt just as quickly as when he had stood.

She held her breath, praying to Master he would just go. However, he didn’t, but returned then pointed to the bed.

She climbed there onto her back, succumbing to the tears of fear that she had been holding back. As he grabbed her ankle, yanking her closer so that she was sexually open and vulnerable, she knew pleading wouldn’t work, so guarded her womanhood with both of her hands only to cry out since he slapped them. file:///N|/projects/RiteOfPassage_April_2011/RiteofPassage_htmlformat.htm[4/11/2011 10:34:58 PM]

“I’m going to ask you again, did you have anything to do with finding Jason?”

She continued to lie, saying, “No, my Lord.” She released a yelp of distress as he exposed her reluctant clitoris; unfortunately, the way he paid it attention was pleasurable, making her quiver, despite her desire to try to fight any sensations she may experience. Her expressions became more delighted, since he slid two fingers into her vaginal chamber then found the place where that if he gently pressed upward, would increase her pleasure. He watched her stiffen, her eyes wide at the upcoming wave of satisfaction. Before she reached it, he slid his hand from her womanhood, keeping his two fingers entrenched in her pathway. He asked, “Did you have anything to do with finding Jason?”

She just shook her head, her breath quickening as he laid his hand flat to her abdomen. “No, Robert, please,” she begged him since she felt the familiar pressure of restraint there. She screamed as he pressed his fingers upward forcefully, and what had been pleasure now became pain. He did it for several minutes, watching how she clawed his hand as he pressed it downward while bruising her inner wall with the strength of his fingers. Maintaining the insertion, but releasing the pressure, he watched her form collapse deeper, her crying unrestrained. “You know the question.”

“No, husband, no,” she looked at him and begged, still pressing her palms to his hand in an attempt to deter him.

If he knew that she had superseded his orders, he might kill her by labeling her a traitor.

“I have to be sure,” he whispered. Setting his hand more firmly, and then shoving four fingers in her, he applied the same pressure, observing how she writhed, her expressions filled with discomfort as she urinated. Again he maintained the abuse until he was satisfied she surely would have given in by now. Removing the intrusion, he raised his hand. Slapping her sharply on her femininity, he leaned across her and threatened, “I better not find out you’re lying.”

“No, my Lord, no.” She vehemently shook her head then struggled to sit up as he started to retreat. Before he did completely, he turned to her and ordered, “Have a servant clean up this bed. I don’t want to be lying in your pee tonight.”

As he disappeared into the other room, she wrapped her arms around herself, dropping her sight to her lap and finding the dark of bruising had already begun on her abdomen. The visual just made the tears return full force, and she desperately wished that Vincent were here to hold her.

file:///N|/projects/RiteOfPassage_April_2011/RiteofPassage_htmlformat.htm[4/11/2011 10:34:58 PM]