Darkness Risen (The Ava'Lonan Herstories Book 4) by Ako Emanuel

nor would he have known how to use them if he
did. He was made to walk, prance, genuflect, and display himself, through pain
and pleasure, but mostly pain, until, little by little, his will wore down.
    The worst, for reasons that he could not explain nor
name, had been this turn, the first time that Fekniri had tried to mount his back.
He had made sure that he was always aware of the panquin, that he always hated
it, that he never got used to it, though for what it was it should have been
extremely comfortable. It conformed to him like a second skin, having been made
and tailored to exacting and exhaustive measurements of his back and body. It
moved with him as nothing he had crudely made had ever done. It should have
been a pleasure to wear, and hard not to get used to. But being aware of it was
actually easier than he imaged, for the thing itched incessantly, no matter
what the tailors lined it with. He blessed the itch, however, and squirmed
under the thing.
    Then the Train’Marm stepped on the mounting block
beside which they had positioned him and threw her leg over his back...
    Varo lost his mind. He bucked so hard that he
twisted an ankle and broke half his chains. Fekniri went flying, fortunately
for her - if she had not, she would have been crushed beneath him, for he
writhed on the ground on his equine back as if a swarm of jak’spanya were
stinging beneath the panquin. He trumpeted in inarticulate rage, slithering as
if he could rub the panquin off his back. The high polish was marred beyond
repair and the strap actually broke, so furious was his temper and gyrations.
Had he not hurt his ankle, he would have been up and leaping away, breaking for
freedom. He tried it anyway, on three legs, knocking over two handlers and
three grooms and getting as far as the high fence of the yard before the shock
of a whip felled him...
    Gavaron watched with dispassionate fascination.
Strange, that Varo would share the fury over the desecration of a memory that
he did not possess.
    Unfortunately, Fekniri had only been stunned in the
fall. He would have preferred that she break her neck. She appeared, walking
gingerly, just as the grooms finished cleaning him up again, his little rampage
having left him filthy and disheveled. She watched as they strapped on a new
panquin and bridle and resecured his arms before him. Varo flexed his arms,
testing the bonds. Gavaron went to work immediately, degrading the leather,
especially of the hated bit.
    He had just begun to work on the new panquin strap
when he noticed that they were bypassing the exercise yard.
    Not eager to try it again? Gavaron thought
with a sneer. I don’t blame you. Next time you might just fly right into a
pole.
    Abruptly Fekniri stopped and gestured to one of the
handlers. The man produced a black velvet bag and approached, clearly intending
to place it over his head.
    Again, Varo spooked.
    He tried to rear up, tossing his head, but the
thicker chains on his legs, ones that Gavaron had not had time to weaken,
prevented him from reaching full height. He bucked, straining against his
tethers, and the ones on his arms snapped. The men gripping the reins and
assorted chains on him were jerked off-balance by the sudden vehemence of his
reaction, but, wary from his earlier performance, were ready for him. For a
moment, Varo had the upper hand. Then they pulled him down by weight alone,
handlers converging from all sides to lend a hand. The choke chain pulled
tight. Varo struggled mightily, striking out with one fist while grabbing at
the choker with the other.
    Pain! paralyzed him, freezing him in mid-buck. His
muscles spasmed, and then he could no longer stand. Consciousness and breath
slipped away with frightening speed...
     
    the light
turned...
     
    ...Varo floated slowly to awareness. He was on his
equine stomach, and rebound tighter than ever. He was also blind-folded and
gagged.
    He struggled involuntarily. Somehow, he knew he was
within walls, that many others