Many of the buyers had asked after the black-haired beauty, no matter what the three of them had done to hide her. Most didn’t care that she couldn’t hear or speak, but Duard wouldn’t sell her or else the price was so high the buyers went on to less appealing, yet cheaper bargains.
And often in the camps at night, while the slavers drank and gambled, they talked of what they’d do to Naia if they ever got the chance. It made Aiden’s blood run like liquid fire. It caused Le to turn ever more pale and drawn. Thankfully, they’d somehow kept the worst of it from Naia herself, but Aiden wondered how long Duard’s protection would last.
He knew, beyond a doubt, that he himself would die protecting Naia. Somewhere in the last weeks, he’d ceased thinking of himself as King. Dorland was years and miles behind him. Now he was only Aiden, a man struggling to survive and maintain his sanity. And somewhere in this hell, he’d found what he’d never dreamed he would – a woman he loved.
Carona, Adison, Lyell Vito, and even Alasdair were faint memories at best. The fact that he cradled one woman in his arms while he was married to another no longer bothered him. He’d never really considered himself married to Carona in the first place. Neither of them had been satisfied with the arrangement. For the first time in his life, he allowed himself to dream of a world in which he could love Naia and shower her with his adoration, a world in which he was free. And without these dreams, Aiden would have lost his mind long ago. Without Naia and Le, he would have found a way to kill himself.
He pulled Naia closer to him. Somehow they had to escape before Le succumbed to the abuse or the slavers took Naia away. Aiden didn’t think he could survive either of these eventualities. To watch them dig a shallow grave and dump Le’s small body inside, or to sit chained and allow them to rape Naia one after another...Aiden shuddered violently.
Naia stirred and caressed his arm in sleep. Her caring and elegant pride had bolstered his courage whenever it threatened to weaken.
He bore their abuse, the lack of food and water, the numbing walks where his legs were no longer a part of his body, but he couldn’t bear the humiliation or the knowledge that the slavers were walking them back and forth over the same land countless times, tracing and retracing their steps, searching for those who would do the unspeakable – buy another person’s life.
It was the weariness that finally wore one down, even more than the lack of food and water. How many times had Aiden found himself close to tears and hysterical laughter at the same time. And he wasn’t alone. Almost daily now one of the other slaves would snap and begin ranting. A beating was often the only way to bring them back under control. And when night came and the giant Elvert brought around the leg shackles, how many had started fighting and not stopped until they were a bloody mass at the giant’s feet.
Chains rattled in the night and a slave began her horrendous hacking. Aiden didn’t understand how the slavers got away with their grisly work. A slave chain made an incredible amount of noise, even in the dead of night. Chains were always clanking and rattling, coughs and sputterings filled the air, and then there was the continual moaning of those in pain, a pain so deep only death would relieve it.
But they were never caught, never even pursued. Was it that they moved in circles no decent man would dare or was it simply that Kalas Eldralin was so near-sighted, he refused to acknowledge the hidden, corrupt truth slinking across the underbelly of his kingdoms? Aiden knew he had been and he cursed himself daily for it.
He rubbed his cheek across the tangled mass of Naia’s hair. How often had he wondered what the ebony strands would look like properly cleaned and combed. Even with all the filth, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and he wished he had the words to tell her so. Someday...someday he would make sure she understood she’d saved his life when he didn’t think it was worth saving. She’d taught him to live when he’d been only sleeping before. But most important of all, she’d taught him to love, to put someone else before his own interest – and he never dreamed himself capable of that, no matter what the circumstance.
* * *
Le stumbled and dropped to his hands and knees. As Aiden bent to pull him to his feet, he noticed for the hundredth time the deep indentation of the skin around his wrists and the open wounds where the shackles bit into him. And the dirt – the dirt grinding right into the open sores. How the boy wasn’t taken with fever escaped Aiden. Maybe it was the plants Naia was so determined to find and hide from the slavers. The plants she crushed to get the resin she rubbed into all of their wounds each night. It was never enough to soothe them completely, but perhaps it fought infection.
Aiden pulled the boy to his feet and let him sway against his chest. Aiden was sure he wouldn’t recognize his own body any longer. He’d never been overweight, but he’d also never realized how much excess one carried around. There was no excess now. Every muscle had hardened.
For some reason, the miserable marches had the opposite effect on him than it did on everyone else. Instead of reducing him to a shivering bundle of nerves, it had strengthened him – made him lean and powerful and deadly. Anger gleamed in his dark eyes now, causing the slavers to back away from him, and consequently Naia and Le. He felt it was just as well for if they continued tormenting him as they had at first, he would have committed murder many times over until they were forced to kill him.
“Get moving," snapped Hogan, at a safe distance astride his horse. His scar shown stark in the blazing sunlight and his wide-spaced eyes squinted against the glare.
Aiden patted the boy’s shoulder. “Not much farther, Le.”
“Tis always farther and when it ends, tis always another day.”
“And with another day comes renewed hope that we’ll be free again.”
“Aye, but tis the waiting that’ll kill one in the end.”
Aiden didn’t answer, he couldn’t. Instead he looked behind him at Naia. She stood with her head bent, her tangled mane of ebony hair covering her face. Aiden didn’t like the stoop of her shoulders. Even her resilient spirit was beginning to give under the abuse.
As if she felt his look, she lifted her head and drew a breath, thrusting back her shoulders. He gave her a proud smile and nodded his head, slipping a shackled arm around her and pulling her close beside him. She let her head drop against his chest for a moment, until they were forced apart by the movement of the train.
They went another hundred yards or so before Le’s knees gave out yet again and he sank to the ground. Aiden bent to haul him up and felt the whispered flick of a whip over his shoulders. He straightened immediately, his dark eyes taking on a murderous light.
Hogan met the look and gave the whip an idle flip of the wrist, which sent it writhing over Le’s back. Aiden’s arm shot up, blocking the blow, and the whip curled around his forearm. With a furious yank, he unhorsed Hogan, sprawling him in the dirt; however, before he could get a grip on the weapon, Elvert cuffed him in the chest and sent him sprawling on his backside. Immediately Naia was over him, burying her face in his neck, protecting his body with her own.
Aiden felt the dull eyes of the slave train on him and then the predatory gaze of the slavers waiting for a good beating. He draped a manacled arm over Naia’s back and glared at Elvert, waiting for his decision. The sight of Naia draped over Aiden had stopped the giant in his tracks.
Before he could recover, Duard reined in beside them. He looked at Hogan pulling himself out of the dirt, the riderless horse, and Elvert looming over the huddled figures.
“What’s happening now?”
Hogan came to heel like a mindless pup. “He grabbed the whip from me, pulled me from my horse.”
Dark brows rose. “Then you’d best keep out of his range, don’t you think?”
Hogan looked up in astonishment. “You can’t be serious! The beast needs a good whippin’!”
Duard regarded Aiden. “I don’t think a beating will do anything but make this animal meaner than he already is. He looks like a
rabid bull. And I thought he’d have gone a lot sooner than this.” His eyes followed Naia’s slender form, taking in every curve. “So the defective little mouse has taken to His Lordship.”
Aiden caught his breath in alarm. Beside him Le lifted his head and fixed Aiden with a horrified look. Aiden couldn’t meet the stare. As Le feared for more than a month, Duard had finally taken notice of Naia.
The man lifted his gloved fingers and stroked his neat beard. “By the talk around the campfire each night, you men think the Nazarien mouse is quite attractive, even under all that filth.”
Aiden’s arm tightened reflexively. Naia felt the tension and lifted her head to look at him. He couldn’t meet her stare either.
Hogan frowned and looked to each of the slavers, who shrugged. “Beggin’ your pardon, Duard, but what?”
Duard’s smile was slow and vile. “You’d like to get between her thighs.”
Hogan appraised Naia. “I’d like that, yes, sir. We’s all been wanting a piece of that.”
Duard chuckled, then unexpectedly, he dealt Hogan a kick that had him sprawling again. “See you keep your paws off her or I’ll cut off each of your manhood and feed it to my dogs.”
Hogan looked up with wounded pride and the other slavers dropped their gaze. Only Elvert seemed pleased by the threat. Aiden didn’t like what he sensed was coming.
“It’s time we headed for home and laid low awhile. You start them moving in the right direction come morning and we’ll hook up again two days later. I got word Talar Eldralin’s bastard’s on the prowl and I don’t want to tangle with him.”
Aiden’s head cocked in interest.
Duard stroked his chin again, his eyes fixed on Aiden and Naia.
Why, in Eldon’s name, was this spawn of hell giving slavers and slaves alike such information, unless he hoped to tip Aiden’s hand, make him do something careless so he’d get himself killed. Obviously Duard hadn’t expected him to live so long. Someone in Dorland must be getting anxious for Aiden’s head on a pole, but why didn’t Duard just kill him then?
“When you get to my homestead,” continued Duard, his eyes roving over Naia’s body, “see that the Nazarien mouse is brought to the main house and secured there. I think it’s time I sampled the goods I’ve protected so carefully.” Then his glittering eyes fixed on Hogan again. “But I find her used, you’re a dead man.”
Hogan swallowed hard, then nodded like the inane fool he was. Duard reined in his horse and turned it around. “Get this line moving again before Eldralin’s bastard sniffs it out.”
The slavers rushed to comply. Aiden worked his way to his feet, untangling himself from both Le and Naia’s chains. He watched Duard ride away into the distance and thought of all the ways he’d ever heard to make a man die slowly. Suddenly he realized he was holding Naia against him, too tightly. He eased his hold, but either she’d understood more that had gone on, or she sensed Aiden’s anxiety – either way, she buried closer into his side, making Aiden’s heart catch. Eldon help him, he had to protect her...someway.
* * *
Naia lay awake that night long after the other slaves had gone to sleep. By the tension in Aiden’s body, she knew he was also awake. How she wanted to talk with him, but in the blackness of an overcast night that was impossible for her. She’d never thought her lack of speech was an impediment before she met Aiden, she’d never known the use of it and therefore couldn’t understand why everyone insisted on making those strange shapes with their mouths continuously, but now she understood.
She felt shut off from everything and frightened. She’d been frightened before, but she knew something had changed tonight.
She tried to draw a deep breath, but the tightness in her chest prohibited it. Her gaze shifted around the campfire. The slavers were there as always, drinking heavily. She didn’t know how they managed to get up again in the morning. Nazarien didn’t drink. Nazarien didn’t believe in drinking.
She was glad they were drinking though. It kept them away from her and she knew what they wanted. The enormous slaver also kept them off. For some reason he didn’t want her hurt. She was grateful for even this twisted kindness. Most of all, however, she knew the deadly look in Aiden’s eyes had the greatest effect.
Since Aiden had come, things had been easier for her and Le. She felt guilty about this however, for she’d give anything for his freedom. Le said he was the King of Dorland. If true, how he’d survived such torment so long baffled her, but he had and he’d even grown stronger under it. And he kept her strong.
Since he’d come, she’d actually slept at night, secure in his protection, warmed by the comfortable weight of his arms. She wished now he’d go to sleep. He hadn’t slept well in far too long – she could feel the tension in every inch of his body.
She needed to be close to him, but it was also a frustration. She felt a pull between her and Aiden, one she’d never felt before. Her interaction with people had always been her family. No one else paid her much mind. She adored her brother and his massive friend, Nakoda, her mother, Shandar. She could spend hours talking to Amaroq alone. Zander, one of the warriors, treated her with something close to kindness, but the rest of the Nazarien avoided her because they considered her defective.
Aiden and Le were the only people besides her family that didn’t look at her that way, that treated her as one of them. More than that, Aiden treated her as something more. With him she felt more feminine. And she was more aware of her filth. She hated it and she knew she shouldn’t lie so close to him, but she couldn’t stop herself. When he reached for her at night, she went willingly, enjoying the comfort they gave each other.
She didn’t have the words for what Aiden meant to her. It was somewhere on the line of what Le meant, but different, deeper. Once Le had tried to attach a hand signal to it – a touching of the heart. That worked with Le. Aiden required a more flamboyant sign, a more emphatic display.
At first, she admitted, she’d been attracted to his sunbright hair. She liked the way the ends curled around his face. She liked the depth and kindness she saw in his brown eyes when he looked at her or Le. She didn’t like the hatred or raw animal fury, but she understood it. She’d felt it herself so many times – it was the need to kill and she’d been surprised to find it so strong within her. She felt protective over him. Whenever they lifted their hands to harm him, she found herself throwing her own body between them. Her logical mind told her she shouldn’t, but her irrational heart told her she could do nothing else.
Yet she knew they’d never let Aiden live, just as she knew her own time was growing short. Once Duard decided Aiden was of no further amusement, he’d take him away. Duard had intended that all along, only Aiden had proved stronger than Duard thought. She knew she couldn’t bear losing him. The feeling was so strong that she prayed nightly for his escape, even if it meant they’d never see one another again.
She thought about her own fate. Soon Aiden’s threat and the protection of the giant would end. Then the men would come after her. The moment they started to paw her with their filthy hands, she would provoke them until they killed her. This she knew beyond a doubt. And she knew that today a time had been placed on her life.
Aiden hadn’t told her what happened and even Le had avoided her insistent questions. She made hand signals at him all evening until it had grown too dark for either of them to see. Finally Aiden had taken her hands in his own and made a few brief signs – ‘Enough, go sleep.’ Then he’d pulled her against him and forced her to lay down. She hadn’t been satisfied, but couldn’t fight it.
She smiled to herself now. How quickly he’d picked up parts of the language she and her brother had created. No one, except Le, had ever been that interested. The Nazarien only learned her language and used it when it was absolutely necessary. For the most part, they expected her to read their lips. Most of the time they were giving commands, not expecting her to have anything to say about it. But Aiden seemed to want to communicate with her t
he way Amaroq always had. That alone would have made him dear to her. And his frustration when he didn’t understand was amusing.
Of course, all of this meant nothing. Even if a miracle happened and they survived this, nothing could ever happen between them. She had to go home to her family. Just the thought of them made her desperate with worry, and Aiden would go back to Dorland.
He was King of Dorland and she was an insignificant Nazarien woman. She hadn’t even been important enough to warn when the attack came. And no one had come looking for her since.
She didn’t allow herself to dwell on that thought. It hurt too much. She couldn’t believe her brother wouldn’t have come, but then he’d never been allowed outside of Tirsbor his entire life. Maybe he couldn’t come, maybe they wouldn’t allow it. But she’d expected Shandar to come or her mother – her mother wouldn’t allow her to disappear without trying to find out what happened to her. Her family had always protected her, defended her, forced the rest of the Nazarien to leave her alone. Without them, she would have been cast out of the order.
Le and Aiden were the first outsiders to looked at her as a whole person, not as a defective burden. Aiden also felt her worthy of protection. He made her feel like a complete individual, proud and intelligent and whole. The way she spoke wasn’t strange or wrong; it was simply different. And the fact she couldn’t hear didn’t seem to anger or disgust him. It seemed to be a part of the individual she’d forgotten she was, except when she was with her family.
She liked feeling the way she did when Aiden looked at her, pride shining from his eyes as happened when she met the next day’s challenge or when she defended him at her own expense or when she soothed their cuts and abrasions with the Stamerian she was so careful to find and hide daily. She wanted to be with Aiden. She wanted always to wake to his golden hair and bright smile, she wanted to snuggle into the warmth of his arms – she wanted him as she’d wanted no other.
She exhaled and felt her eyes grow heavy. The days were so long, the nights so short. Even if she wanted to stay awake, she couldn’t deny the escape sleep provided. And as every night since her capture, she closed her eyes wondering what horror the next day was bound to bring.
The World of Samar Box Set 3 Page 107