The Price of Power Read online

  Vendel Rising: Vol 3

  The Price of Power

  L.A. Warren

  JEM Publishing

  Vendel Rising: Volume 3

  The Price of Power

  by: L.A. Warren

  Copyright © 2018 L.A. Warren

  VENDEL RISING: Volume 3

  The Price of Power

  All rights reserved.

  This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this ebook ONLY. No part of this ebook may be reproduced, scanned, transmitted, or distributed in any printed, mechanical, or electronic form without prior written permission from L.A. Warren or JEM Publishing except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Image/art disclaimer: Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.

  Editor: Eanna Roberts (www.penmanshipediting.com)

  Cover Artist: Ellie Augsburger (www.creativedigitialstudios.com)

  Interior Design/Formatting: JEM Publishing

  Published in the United States of America

  JEM Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, businesses, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: NUMBER

  Created with Vellum

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my one and only—my amazing and wonderful husband.

  Without your care and support, my writing would not have made it this far.

  Contents

  Part I

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Part II

  Prologue

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

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  VENDEL RISING Series

  About the Author

  Connect with L.A. Warren

  THE END

  Part One

  Prologue

  New Terra Histories by Malita s’Lissa s’vlor

  If someone thinks they are crazy, are they? I have no answer. But perhaps, it is only when someone stops asking that they truly are insane.

  July 4, 2136

  The braklav defeated me.

  It transformed me.

  The High Tender molded me to obey him and serve Gregor, my master, Emperor of the Vendel, and my enemy. I did whatever it took to please Gregor and endure my High Tender’s wrath.

  The birth of my strange sisters, Whimper, Shriek, and Malice gave me strength. When my trials became too much to bear, my sisters protected and sheltered me.

  They suffered so I might survive.

  They broke so that I did not.

  They gave me strength when I was at my weakest.

  They endured so that I might one day fight.

  In breaking me, the High Tender gave me the means to defeat him, but that is another story.

  I want to tell you how I met my new friends, because that is a story of legend…

  Chapter One

  Gambit, Day 150

  Elise Comwell awoke stiff and sore, but worse was soon to happen. She had committed a great sin by sleeping through the awakening bell.

  Again.

  She had also missed her mandatory morning workout.

  Damn! Alice would’ve been waiting. I need her.

  Elise curled into a fetal ball, but it didn’t help. Alice was the only reason she made it through each day.

  What am I going to do now?

  Today promised to be the last day of braklav torture. Over the past cycle, Alice had run a discrete distance ahead and encouraged Elise to press on despite the pain, not to mention what was happening to her mind.

  While Shriek and Whimper took control during Tender Training, only Alice could coax Elise out of the darkness following it.

  Not only had Elise missed her brief meeting with her friend, she had racked up an infraction with the WOR-guards. The braklav was an instrument of torture that left no marks, the whipstick wounded fragile flesh. There was no escaping the brutality of the Vendel.

  A brief shower did nothing to ease the kinks in her muscles. Aware of the time, and the inevitable encounter with a WOR-guard, the hot water only made her muscles clench with anticipation of the lashes to come. She toweled herself dry, padded to her bench, and dressed.

  Dead woman walking.

  You’re being overly melodramatic, Malice yawned. We’re not dead yet.

  Shut up, Malice! Shriek called out from the corners of her mind. She’s not as strong as you.

  Is that what you think? Malice cackled.

  I’m falling apart, Malice. They’re winning.

  You’re wrong, my sister, Malice muttered.

  Tender Training drew interest from everyone. The WOR-guards scrutinized her every move. What they looked for she had no idea. The other women hovered at a distance and watched for signs of defeat to creep in, perhaps terrified that Elise would cave against the pressure of Tender Training.

  You’re their hero, Malice said.

  I know, but I’m losing the war.

  Your code keeps them together and reminds them they are human. Not slaves. The Vendel dehumanized you. They assigned you numbers, but you gave them back their names. If you give in, what hope do any of them have to resist? Malice’s voice dripped with venom, the threat in her words clear. You cannot give up!

  I know! I’m trying.

  You’re letting them win!

  Leave me alone.

  No. You can’t afford to be weak.

  I’m tired, Malice. I’m tired of fighting. It is hopeless.

  You don’t have a choice, Malice hissed. You must win.

  I can’t do that when everyone is watching me so closely. I can barely breathe!

  Then become invisible again, sister. You must bend beneath their strength. Remember the willow? Bend against this storm. Give them what they want. Surrender, so that we can win.

  Will the WOR understand my surrender?

  They must. You are their leader. Tell Alice. She will explain.

  Elise took a deep breath, held it, and slowly blew it out. It helped to steady her for what was needed.

  Surrender stared at her with the weight of ponderous judgement, but it would only be a temporary capitulation. She only needed a short respite. Mayb
e.

  Shriek? Whimper? she called out to her other sisters, the two who endured torment and pain. Give me one more day, only two more hours and I promise to let you rest.

  Shriek shuddered and Whimper cried, but they agreed as she explained what she planned.

  With her shoulders pushed back and her spine as straight as she could make it, she marched out of the bathhouse and approached the first WOR-guard she could find.

  “Sir, I must report an infraction.”

  Elise wasn’t allowed to speak to the other women, but she hadn’t been forbidden from addressing the WOR-guard. Up until now, she chose to ignore them. Seeking one out would trip all kinds of speculation.

  The alerted WOR-guard scrunched his face.

  She took a deep breath and hung her head. “I slept through the awakening bell, missed my exercise routine, and didn’t make first breakfast.” She kept her voice contrite and stared at the large man’s chest, refusing to meet his eyes.

  “Excuse me?” His brow arched, confused by her report. “You did?”

  It was difficult not to smile at his confusion. No one self-reported to a WOR-guard, not when it resulted in a session with a whipstick.

  “High Tender Marcus has instilled in me that my actions reflect on Gregor. I wish to please him and failed. I deserve correction.”

  The man didn’t answer, but his knitted brows and his pursed lips told her everything she needed to know.

  She continued in a rush, struggling to get her words out before he could come to a decision. “I’ll tell him myself later during Tender Training. I just thought it would please Gregor if I came forward on my own and accepted the consequences for failing to follow the rules.”

  “10-2, each infraction is punishable by ten lashes.”

  “Yes, sir.” This was the price to be paid to be meek. Malice told her to bend. Well, she would bend beneath the whipstick. A harsh implement, but the whipstick couldn’t break her like the braklav. She would endure.

  “I can’t administer that many at one time,” he explained.

  Her eyes lit up at his dilemma.

  The man tapped his wrist device and spoke into it. Within a few minutes, a small group of WOR-guards surrounded them.

  “What’s going on here?” a second WOR-guard demanded.

  “She’s admitted to three separate infractions.” The first WOR-guard snapped to attention.

  “She reported herself?” The second WOR-guard lifted his brows. Disbelief edged his voice.

  “Yes, sir. I can’t administer thirty lashes at once.” The first one ran a shaky hand over his head. He eyed her nervously. “I can’t ignore it either.”

  The second WOR-guard glanced at Elise. “You didn’t have to report this, 10-2. Explain.”

  The command in his voice made her jump. “Sir, I’ve spent the last ten days with High Tender Marcus in Tender Training.” She paused as they exchanged knowing glances. All these men knew what she’d been subjected to. “I could’ve kept silent, but that would’ve made Gregor mad. I want to make him proud. I need to.” Elise was surprised at how convincing the words actually sounded. By the looks on their faces, they bought it. “I hope to show him I’ve learned not to hide my mistakes.”

  The second WOR-guard paused to consider. He tapped a finger on his chin and then turned to the first. “Administer twenty lashes and suspend the rest.”

  The first WOR-guard looked relieved.

  Elise swallowed her revulsion as she willingly knelt to accept the twenty lashes from a whipstick.

  Step aside, sister, Shriek said. I will bear this.

  Elise felt guilty allowing Shriek to bear this burden, but Whimper pulled Elise to the side.

  This is Shriek’s strength, Whimper whispered. We shoulder the burden together sister. It’s how we survive. Let Shriek do her part.

  The WOR-guard’s arm drew back. Elise turned away and headed to the darkness of her mind where Whimper joined her. Shriek took control of their body and absorbed the pain. After the last lash, Shriek crawled into a corner, trembling.

  Thank you, Shriek. Elise resumed her place while Whimper turned to comfort Shriek.

  The WOR-guards put their heads together and whispered as they departed. “Can you believe what he’s accomplished?”

  “That’s why he’s the Master Tender. She was worried about displeasing him. Bless the empire, but the emperor is going to be relieved when he hears of this. Make sure the emperor is informed about what happened here.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  That’s the point boys. Spread the word. Little 10-2 has caved. I am the willow. I will bend. And when it’s over, when ruin and devastation surround me, I will stand unbroken and whole.

  Tinkling laughter filled her mind as Malice approved.

  The touch of the whipstick left her back aflame. Shriek endured the agony of the lashes but the residual pain would be hers to deal with until it eased.

  It was time to meet Gregor and the High Tender for WOR-skill training. A new hurdle loomed.

  The High Tender would need to be convinced with her capitulation. Whimper had already laid down the foundation from previous sessions, but he would test it again. Which meant Shriek was not yet done.

  Gregor would be next. He’d be easier. Or at least, Elise hoped that would be the case. His cool detachment that had begun with the onset of Tender Training worried her, because he hadn’t touched her since it started. The heat between them had vanished. That electric charge had fizzled and faded away.

  It was time to bring back that spark.

  Elise walked into the classroom that the High Tender and Gregor had appropriated for their morning drills. High Tender Marcus sat at one of the round tables while Gregor paced. He stopped short at her entrance.

  “You’re late.” The aggravation in his voice was a bad sign.

  She dipped her head in acknowledgment. “Forgive me, Gregor. Good morning.” The High Tender greeted her with suspicious eyes. “Good morning, High Tender.”

  “Good morning, s’vlor.”

  Not once had the High Tender used her name, whether as Elise or as the annoying 10-2. To him, she was nothing more than an object. His patronizing, cool tone held the barest hint of question though. She wondered if he had heard about her encounter with the WOR-guards.

  Elise fought the urge to respond. Whimper demanded she answer the High Tender’s unasked question. She ignored Whimper with great difficulty. It was a dangerous step, but calculated. Her quarry was a different man.

  She stepped to Gregor and bowed her head in acquiescence. “I overslept.”

  Gregor stiffened.

  She glanced at the High Tender and continued before either could speak. “I reported myself to the WOR-guards and they administered correction. I told them I would let you know.”

  “You did?” High Tender Marcus stood and came toward her. The braklav twirled in his hand.

  Gregor held up his hand to halt the High Tender. “You reported yourself?”

  “Yes, Gregor.” Elise kept her eyes focused on his boots and crossed her hands to the front in supplication. “I earned thirty lashes for everything. They delivered twenty.”

  Gregor said nothing, but made a gesture for her to spin around. She complied and jumped when his hand brushed her back and his fingers traced the lines of twenty lash marks. She dared not move and held her breath.

  He moved the hair away from her neck and traced his finger along the curve of her jaw. It was the first intimate touch since Tender Training had begun.

  “Today is your last session with Lord vlor’Vardhal. Tell me, opés, what have you learned?”

  Whimper screamed.

  Shriek crumbled.

  Malice hissed.

  Elise struggled to hold them together. The path to invisibility had never felt so uncertain. She had to make this work.

  Turning, she clutched at his shirt. Tears streamed down her face and her body shook. “Gregor, I will please you.”

  How much of this is r
eally an act? Malice giggled. You’re convincing even me.

  She managed to choke out the words. “Please forgive me, Gregor.”

  She collapsed against him. Ten days of torture, and the disgust at being beaten by the High Tender, broke upon Gregor’s solid chest. Elise poured everything into that moment and clung to him for forgiveness, for strength, for absolution.

  Please, believe this. God, I almost believe it!

  His body went rigid. Had the cruel emperor become resistant to her surrender? The unmoving wall made her heart lurch.

  It’s not working! Shriek screamed.

  Elise sniffed back her tears and wiped her face with her hand. Her hands clutched his shirt and she lifted her head.

  She whispered, “I’m sorry. I will make you proud, I promise.” She averted her eyes with the smallest bit of submission.

  He held perfectly still, implacable, solid granite resisting her efforts to erode his stony exterior. Like the wind upon the rocks, this mountain did not move.

  Elise let go in failure. This passionate man had withdrawn from her completely. It was imperative that she make him see her as human—desirable—and she was failing. The first rule of warfare was to dehumanize your enemy; because it was easier to destroy an object than a person. He’d destroyed his little opés. But could he destroy a lover?