Lycan Alpha Claim 3

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  Joseph was of sound mind. They all were.

  Bracus nodded. Time to be about it. The Band carefully looked about them, and Bracus gave the special call. The war call.

  The shrill, ringing tone carried on the light breeze like music on the wind.

  CHAPTER 21

  “Well, well... my little Princess and her friend are here. How convenient for me,” Prince Frederic said, a knowing smile overtaking his face.

  Charles pulled Clara behind him with a firm hand on her wrist.

  Clara told herself that they were doing nothing wrong, that the Prince knew what they were about. She had told him they traveled this day for trading with the Kingdom of West Virginia. But his face... his face told a different tale.

  “Did you think me so stupid that I would not check on your plans? Your travel plans with this fool,” he said in a voice that shook with rage.

  Charles stiffened.

  Clara tried to step around Charles to address the prince, but Charles said, “Do not.”

  “Prince Frederic, you knew of the Princess's plans to trade this day. What has provoked your ire?”

  Clara bunched her hand in the fabric of Charlesʼ shirt, the heat of his body seeping into hands that had grown cold.

  “We left a sentry behind,” Prince Frederic said as explanation.

  Clara's thoughts turned to Clarence. One of the Prince's guard must have come upon Clarence.

  Clara, once so adept at containing her expression, had allowed some of what she was feeling to show on her face.

  The Prince smiled. “I see by your expression you understand what I mean. Search them.” He waved a dismissive hand in their direction.

  The salt.

  Charles's thoughts raced. How could he extradite them from this situation? Obviously, the sentry had come upon Clarence and communicated this to the Prince. And although he may not exactly know their plan, he must assume it did not include him or the kingdom that Frederic coveted.

  Prince Frederic had four guards with him.

  Charles knew he must protect Clara at all costs. He gave over the knapsack to the guard. The hilt of a hidden dirk lay at the small of his back. The element of surprise might be enough. He had been in training these many years to eventually be in the royal guard. He would need every ounce of that training now.

  ****

  Prince Frederic approached Clara slowly, a shark testing the waters. She stayed behind Charles. The guards ransacked their things.

  One of the guards lifted the flask. Opening it, he gave it a sniff, moving his palm back and forth over the top.

  He lifted his head. “Salt, Your Highness.”

  Prince Frederic came very near Charles and Clara. Charles’s eyes followed each step. “Now what, pray tell, might you want with salt? Diluted salt at that?” His eyes narrowed.

  “To breach the sphere is to be executed, as you are aware, Princess.”

  He looked her over very carefully, taking in her royal attire and her crown.

  “Very wise to wear your proper royal garb. But it will not save you, for I know what you are about. Your costume did not fool me.”

  And with that, he reached his hand out, wrapping it around Clara's wrist, moving the bones together within the steel band of his grip.

  Charles shouted, “No!” He released her other wrist. Charles smashed the flat of his palm in the Prince's face, and blood sprayed in a graceless arc.

  He did not hesitate, grabbing the dirk from the small of his back, slashing in a tight, backhanded arc toward the neck of the closest guard as the other guard grabbed his free arm. The first guard lay upon the ground, his mortal wound spilling his lifeblood upon the dirt floor of the tunnel. Charles grappled with the guard who has hold of his weaponless arm and buried the dirk in his upper chest. Staggering back, hand on the hilt, the guard gave a surprised, wide-eyed glance at Charles, who dismissed him. His full attention shifted to the remaining two guards. He was now without the dirk.

  “I think we shall have some sport. Guards, detain this man and make him watch while I teach my betrothed the lessons herein.”

  Clara struggled in earnest, knowing the beating she had suffered would pale in comparison to what she was afraid he meant.

  Frederic shoved Clara down to the dirt floor, where she landed on her back, the wind whooshing from her lungs. She struggled to get up. Her corset stays were like unyielding bones that stymied her progress.

  He slapped her so hard across the face that her vision dimmed and an impenetrable fog clouded her head. She was vaguely aware of Charles struggling with the other guards. She heard the meaty sounds of his fist connecting with their flesh. But the prince was a distraction as he lay atop her, lifting the hem of her dress to her knees, trying to work it higher.

  He meant to rape her with Charles as witness.

  Clara bucked and fought.

  He struck her again, pinning her wrists above her head with one of his hands, unlacing his breeches with the other. Clara lost all semblance of sanity, screaming wildly for Charles, blood trickling from her nose.

  ****

  “Did you hear that?” Matthew asked the others.

  Bracus nodded, changing his speed from jogging to sprinting. They moved toward the sphere tunnel in a lethal wall of menace, throat slits fully open in deep red slashes of flesh against their throats. Arriving outside the slightly bulbous outcropping of the sphere tunnel, they were not able to believe the sight that greeted them.

  Bracus's breath caught in his lungs. A man lay atop the Princess, undoing his breeches with one hand while she screamed for someone and struggled to free herself. But even Bracus could see she was no match for the one who rode her.

  Philip growled low in his throat. “Gather the flasks!”

  Bracus nodded, shouting, “All of them! Throw everything on my command.”

  “Now!” Bracus's shout penetrated the interior of the sphere.

  ****

  Charles was prone on all fours surviving a well-placed kick to the ribs, crawling to help Clara when she screamed for him, the plea a stab to his heart. The abhorrent prince was trying to have his way with her. He must reach her. A powerful yell sounded from Outside.

  Prince Frederic froze on top of Clara, his undergarment a thin barrier between himself and the Princess he wished to defile. Looking over the top of her head, he saw men, huge men, like the rumored Vikings of his ancestry. The gills in their necks looked like slashes from a knife, opening and closing with their breathing.

  Charles and the guards were transfixed when water hit the sphere. A moment passed with the liquid cascading down the outside, hissing and smoking. A tear formed, and the fresh air of the Outside reached their lungs for the first time.

  Clara was in a dim fog, her dress about her hips, the Prince poised above her when she saw a foot connected with his jaw. He flew several feet away from her. She lay stunned, a dull ache rooting her shoulders in the awkward position above her head as she watched the scene unfold.

  Huge men flooded into the confines of the tunnel, working without mercy on the remaining guards, slitting their throats and dumping their bodies to the ground like garbage. The one who lay on his back with a hilt sticking out of his chest like an exclamation point breathed shallowly while one guard came upon him, twisting the hilt while he screamed in agony. Finally, the man removed it and slit that guard's throat, turning his head to look at Clara while simultaneously wiping the bloodied blade on the guard's clothing. It was him, Clara thought with a shudder, the savage who frightened her.

  He gave her a grim smile and walked toward where she lay. Her breath came in large gasps. She was frozen to the ground, unable to move. She would die here, surrounded by savages on the dirt floor of the tunnel.

  She craned her neck. Her vision swam, and she saw Charles being approached by two savages, their thick thigh muscles bunching as they squatted in front of him.

  She screamed, not caring for her own safety but thinking only of him, “Spare him! He is my
friend. Please, spare him...” she cried in a pathetic whisper through a wash of tears.

  A fierce face loomed in front of her vision. It was the savage she had seen through the sphere wall, the one who looked upon her with tenderness, as he did now.

  “Fear not, Princess. No harm will come to you.” Bracus helped her arms down to her sides and lowered her dress. His expression was one of contained rage as his gaze wandered to Frederic, who lay unconscious beside her.

  Her head swiveled back to Charles. Two savages knelt beside him, awaiting their leader’s command. Her eyes met Charles's, and he hung his head, realizing that their fate was in the hands of the savages.

  Bracus looked down at the Princess, and the black spot in his heart spread like spilled ink as he looked upon her injuries, which led his gaze to the large male who lay breathing a few feet away. He knew in his guts that this was the male who had committed the first abuse. The other, who lay on the ground near Stephen and Joseph, looked as though he had defended her.

  “Bracus.” Philip stared down at him, but his eyes strayed to the Princess.

  “We must go. Let us dispatch these two and take our leave quickly, before more arrive.”

  Clara lifted a trembling arm, shaking from lack of circulation and laid it on Bracus's forearm, her touch light as a feather.

  He looked down at the small hand, fascinated by its size, but his expression remained stoic. This female was killing him.

  The Princess said, “Please, I beg you. Do not harm him. He is my dearest friend. Take me, and leave him, please.”

  “Clara no! You know not what their intent is!” Charles shouted, trying to get to his feet, but the guards held him in position.

  “Do not harm her! She has done nothing,” Charles said to the group at large.

  Matthew replied with a smirk, “That is not our intent, sphere-dweller.”

  Charles and Clara both heard the note of disdain in his voice. He looked at them as if insulted that they would think he would harm the Princess who lay vulnerable and injured at their feet.

  Stephen looked down at Charles. “It was our plan to take her, not you. It was happenstance that you were here... and the others.” He shrugged as though their deaths had been collateral damage, and not of great importance.

  Bracus knew that time was short. He stood. Bending over, he hauled the Princess to her feet.

  Clara was suddenly on her feet, free from her horrible position on the ground. But the movement had been too fast, and she swayed. As she felt her vision narrowing, her body filled up with heat. It began at her feet and rushed to her head. She knew she would faint.

  “No you don't, Princess,” the savage said, swooping her right off the ground. Clara wasn't sure this was an improvement as her face lolled against his huge chest and his arms folded her into his body as if she were the size of a child. To him, she probably was.

  “Do not take her!” Charles yelled, struggling against the guards.

  Bracus gave Stephen a terse nod, and he slammed his fist into Charles’s temple. His body slumped to the floor in a heap.

  “No!” Clara screamed, struggling in the grip of the savage, but to no avail. He had terrible strength and stood immune to her movements.

  Suddenly, the savage did not trust what was in her face. “Be still. You needed rescuing.”

  Clara cringed back from him in fear, and Bracus's eyes narrowed. Her response did not make sense. Why was she so afraid?

  “Cease this. We mean you no harm,” Bracus told her.

  She stopped and looked up into Bracus's face. His intense hazel eyes were warm with sincerity, and it was all too much.

  Clara slumped into unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER 22

  Bracus looked down at the Princess’s still form and couldn't believe she was finally in his arms. He checked his expression to escape notice. She lay so light in his embrace. He hugged her tighter to him, and her head rolled against his chest.

  He looked over at the large male with yellow hair who still lived. Rage shimmering within Bracus. Killing the man now would be best.

  He looked at Philip, who nodded and prepared to land the killing blow, but Stephen interrupted, “Do not.” Philip's hand hesitated. “He looks to be someone of importance.”

  They took in his regal attire, heavy gold rings, and thin band atop his head.

  Bracus made a noise in the back of his throat. What a loathsome man. “He does not deserve to live.”

  “I agree. But, if we wish for our negotiations to move forward, killing a person of importance may not assist our cause,” Stephen said.

  He was right, but there was something primitive in Bracus that wished to end the life of he who had used violence against the Princess.

  He wavered.

  Finally, he walked over to the man and ground his heel into his groin with crushing force. A low moan escaped Prince Frederic.

  Bracus smiled. That had felt good.

  The Band laughed. It would be some time before he tried to take a female by force again.

  The Band silently made their way out of the tear in the sphere wall.

  Joseph turned around once they were out. “Look upon it.” He pointed to the slit.

  They watched it begin to repair itself. The Evil Ones had thought of a contingency for a sphere breach. They wished for no intermingling of the two Peoples. Well, Bracus thought, they would have a surprise.

  The Band closed in around him and kept their senses alert

  *

  They reached the forest border, and relief washed over Bracus.

  They mounted their horses, and with the evening meal almost upon them, they found a mossy area by the stream and lay the Princess down upon it. She barely stirred. Bracus did not like the deep shadows beneath her eyes and the pallor of her wounded face. He brought out his knapsack and rifled through it until he came upon a blanket, the one he had chosen especially for its tightly woven properties. He spread it over her. As it was made for him, he was able to take the excessive length and use part of it to bundle up as a makeshift pillow.

  The Band drew together and looked down at her.

  Stephen spoke first. “She looks weak.”

  “She is, dolt.” Philip frowned, massive hands pegged on his hips.

  “It would be interesting to find out what her intentions were this day. Where were they going? Were they traveling with that guard?” Joseph reasoned out loud.

  Bracus shook his head. “I do not think so. Did you notice the one who was committing violence against her? His clothing was different. They are not from her home sphere.”

  Bracus watched the slight rise and fall of her chest, having never laid eyes on a woman this small. She was very close in stature to young Evelyn who tended the well. But how brave she had been! With huge, strange males all around, she had pleaded for the life of her friend. He looked more closely at her. She wore the strange clothes again, and a bejeweled crown sat upon her head. He shook his head.

  “So frail.” Matthew bent down close to her still form. He picked up her hand, the full size of it taking up only his palm.

  “Don't touch her.” Bracus spoke to Matthew in a low, clear voice.

  Matthew looked at him, carefully putting Clara's hand down where it had been, his eyebrows rising as he straightened to his full height.

  “Why, Captain?”

  Bracus realized his mistake too late. He did not want any male touching her. “I do not wish her to awaken and find your ugly mug above her.”

  The Band laughed at the joke, and the tension drained like water through a sieve.

  Philip clapped Matthew on the back. “Come, let us find food. It has been a long day, and I, for one, wish to end it with a full belly and the stars above me.”

  Bracus chose Joseph to watch over Clara, instructing him to give the alert if she awoke. He nodded solemnly. Joesph understood better than the others because he wished for Anna to love him. He would be more careful with this new female.

  B
racus walked away. But the need to stay by the Princess's side was an unbearable pull that no amount of shaking would loosen.

  CHAPTER 23

  Clara opened her eyes slowly. She was cold. She did not know at first where she lay. A damp, lightweight blanket covered her from foot to chin, and she discovered one lay under her head as well. She cautiously turned her head to the left. The huge savage lay beside her. At her right was the other savage, the one who made her heart race with trepidation.

  Her mind flooded with memories of the last moments before she fainted: Charles struck down, the guards killed, Prince Frederic on the floor, unconscious. That they had not killed her was a mystery. They probably wanted details about her kingdom. They would not get them.

  It was the least she could do.

  Clara removed her crown, laying it behind her head, symbolic of her dislike of being a Princess. It could stay where it lay. She sat up quietly and looked at the sky. The stars glittered above her like diamonds in black velvet. Taking a deep breath, she was assaulted by the dryness of the air, cool on her lungs. She stifled an urge to cough. The air was so strange Outside. The Record Keeper had been mistaken.

  She breathed, and she lived.

  Her people did not need to be confined to the sphere.

  Clara looked at the savage who lay beside her, his chest rising and falling with each breath. Her eyes traveled to his gills, and they fascinated her. They flowed apart and together with synchronicity.

  She shook her misgivings away. She need not dally. Now was the time for escape. She spied her knapsack at the base of her bed and quietly crawled to the end of the bedding, careful not to rustle or make noise. She looped the knapsack over one shoulder as she stood, then round the other. She backed away.

  As she was turning, she noted that there were five males, all the biggest she had ever seen in her life. She knew that they were humanoid, but not entirely. With the gills and the hugely muscled physique, she was not absolutely certain what they were.

  She moved away slowly, gaining distance, placing her feet in areas where the brush was least and she could traverse it more silently. She looked above her, noting the full moon, so bright outside the sphere it hurt her eyes. The air a bitter testimony to her freedom.