Sins 02 - Sins of Violance

“You cannot disturb him now.”
    “He will want to see me,” Ari said firmly, stepping forward. “Tell him a lost daughter has returned to beg for his mercy.”
    The girl’s eyes flickered upwards, meeting Ari’s green ones with a glimmer of hope. Perhaps they had heard tales of an escapee, Ari thought, perhaps she had provided them with some kind of dream of a future where freedom didn’t mean certain death in the wilderness.
    The guard turned, his hand raised to strike her for impudence. Ari stood tall to face him, waiting for the blow.
    “Enough.” The deep voice came from within, and Ari shivered in recognition. “She may enter.”
    The guard paled and dropped his arm, pushing Ari forward to the door, keeping his eyes lowered.
    Ari walked in, and there he was, the man she had feared all her life and dreamed of since the day she had run from this place, wounded from his Blessing. He stepped from the shadows, his wide chest bare and oiled emphasizing the tattooed Mark, the symbol of his domination. He was still magnificent, his height and strength giving him an advantage over any man who would challenge him in the pit. But there were more scars on his body now and touches of grey in his thick hair. This was a man on the far edge of his prime and for a moment, Ari saw that he was just a man who could die, not the eternal monster of her childish dreams.
    “Ariadne.” His voice was a filthy caress, for no one but he had ever spoken her full name. “I thought you dead many years ago.” He stepped forward, his dark eyes compelling, and then his voice hardened. “Kneel.”
    Ari found her body obeying him without resistance and she fell to her knees as he approached. His fingers lifted her chin, caressed her lips and then twisted into her hair, pulling it tight.
    “Why do you return now, I wonder?” He tugged her head back, pulling a knife from his belt and holding it against the flesh of her neck. Ari’s heart raced and her pulse beat against the blade as she sent a desperate prayer to the Goddess. “And who is the traitor telling of your sister’s Blessing?” He stroked the knife gently over the delicate skin, raising a bead of blood that trickled down into the top of Ari’s dress. His eyes watched it as it ran over the swell of her breast, then he let go, pushing her roughly forward. “No matter, I will find out after the ritual is complete, for you cannot disrupt this sacred time. Tonight you will witness your sister’s torment.”
    He snapped his fingers and from the shadows stepped three women, their bodies tattooed with serpents, their hair twisted into tight rings on top of their heads.
    “Meet my Furies, Ariadne.” He started to walk away and laughed over his shoulder. “Did you really think I would remain here in my eyrie without protection? They were chosen from the death pits, the ones who remained standing after the Purge, so don’t imagine your survival skills are of any use here.” He turned to them. “Bring her.”
    As the Minotaur strode away up a staircase, Ari started backing away from the Furies. She moved into a defensive posture as the women undulated closer, their bodies sinuous. She could see in their eyes the crazed dilated pupils of junkies, addicted to the drugs and violence that kept this city of ruined souls alive.
    “I want to follow,” Ari said, still backing away, fighting to keep her voice even. Her eyes darted to each, judging their distance. “You don’t need to drag me.”
    “Where’s the fun in that?” one of the Furies said, her lips drawn back in a vicious grin as the three of them edged forward. Ari tried to block their attack but they were too many. A blow to the kidney opened her up for a punch to the stomach and she fell to her knees, winded and gasping for air. One Fury held her head up by her hair and another readied her fist to strike.
    “Not her face,” the other said, her voice tinged with fear. “He won’t like that.”
    The Fury satisfied herself with another gut punch and Ari crumpled in pain. Together they dragged her up the staircase, emerging onto a platform that perched atop the tower, with views of the surrounding ruined land. A cool breeze blew across the deck and the Furies raised their faces to the sky, drinking in the fresh air that was denied them in the depths of the stinking city. But they held Ari tight, their fingernails digging into her flesh, two of them with knives drawn. The sun was about to burn the horizon,