The Bound - Novella: Hers To Save Part One

by Michelle Connor

  Prince Dayton looked at him with concern. “You’ve been acting different, is something else going on?”

  “Where is the weapons store?” asked Herveus, turning to look at Merek.

  CHAPTER 16

  Eight men waited for Herveus, warriors all. Heavily armed, the high sun reflected off their weapons. Adjusting the sword at his side, he approached, anticipation already filling his veins.

  Paul stepped forward to meet Herveus, holding the reins of a tall black horse. "I thought he would suit you, Abastor is swift, but unpredictable." His lips quirked up. "If we ride hard we can make it there by nightfall."

  Herveus took the reins as Abastor pranced back and forth. He softly scratched the horse's forehead until the beautiful beast calmed. Putting his foot in the stirrup, he leaped up and could feel the horse’s powerful muscles move under it's flesh. "Let's go."

  They often dismounted and led the horses, avoiding fallen boulders and loose rocks along the narrow path. A mountain on either side stretched to the skies, blocking most of the daylight. Words of swift vengeance and encouragement drifted on the wind from the watchers along the way, spurring the fire in his blood to pump faster.

  The light blinded Herveus briefly as he stepped out from between the hidden crevice, feet touching the gently swaying grass. He wiped the small drops of moisture that leaked from the corner of his eyes and re-mounted Abastor, kicking the horse's dark flank.

  The landscape blurred passed, greens and browns blending together as the sound of galloping hooves thundered all around him. Paul moved his horse alongside Herveus's, pointing off to the side. Seeing the stream, he nodded his head in understanding, heading that way. Men and beasts alike drank from the cool waters, stretching aching muscles.

  Some of the warriors took out weapons, sparring with each other. Herveus envied their easy solidarity. He worked alone and found it difficult interacting with others. The brothers joined him, the three of them watched the other men taunt each other as the clang of metal filled the air. Turning grim eyes Herveus’ way, David rubbed the scar on his face. "We need this. When our home was attacked we had no warning. Many died, including our father, before we got to raise our weapons in defense."

  Paul embraced his brother. "We won't let them keep killing without answering to our steel, Brother. The blood of our enemies will soon soak the ground."

  Herveus' heart ached as more memories flooded his mind; a warm embrace, tears wiped away from cold cheeks, and the feeling of love. The metal sang as he pulled out his own sword. "Who is man enough to spar against me?"

  "I am." The youngest of the warriors stepped forward; laughter greeted his reply.

  Sweat dripped into Herveus' eyes as he let the movements of his body quiet his troubled mind.

  #

  The moon watched them from the sky as the men jumped to the ground, taking cover among a glade of trees. All of them wanted retribution, but caution was still needed. Eyes watchful, the only sound was the soft whines of the tired horses. Smoke could be seen in the distance, rising to join the darkness of the twilight sky.

  As one, the nine men crept closer to their destination, the sounds of screams reaching their ears. Their foes hadn't killed all then, they kept some to play with. Eight of the warriors would later speak of being ridden with an unsettling calmness, as if the Valkyries themselves walked among them, collecting the souls of those they killed.

  #

  The smoke filled Herveus lungs as he took in the devastation of the once peaceful village. He counted fifteen soldiers so far, enjoying the spoils of their easy victory, the dead scattered among them. He clenched his hands around his knives. Soon they will feel their flesh parting.

  Like ghosts, Herveus and his men swept among the enemy, whose guard was foolishly down; several bodies dropped to the ground by well-placed thrusts. Breathing heavily, he looked at the young man in front of him. The royal crest covered in the blood of the innocent. "Why?"

  "We loyally follow the king's orders, prince's lapdog, have you come to punish us?" The young man pointed his red stained sword at Herveus, as more men stepped out of buildings.

  Herveus could see madness swirling in the boy's brown eyes. He couldn't be more than seventeen summers old. He put his knives away, and with regret he pulled his own sword free. He was used to killing, but this felt different, a sickness was spreading through the kingdom and it needed to be stopped. He tried to shut out the din of battle around him and the sound of the crying villagers. Defeated, they had been broken. Even now they were too scared to move when escape could be within their reach.

  Herveus advanced forward, deflecting the sword swung at his head. Pivoting right, he slashed at his enemy; overbalancing, the boy stumbled backwards. Taking advantage, he thrust forward, his sword piercing flesh. Grimacing, the warrior slumped forward, eyes wide. Herveus pulled his weapon free.

  He turned, taking in the battle around him. His men were formidable fighters. Herveus' eyes became captured by that of a young girl huddled between two dead bodies. Dress torn down the front, eyes glistening with tears, his heart ached for the once unsullied soul. Herveus gasped. Feeling a sharp pain, he looked down. A battle-stained sword protruded out of his body. The sword was pulled free, he felt himself falling. He heard his name being called from a great distance away, as he lay sprawled on the blood-soaked floor. He was overwhelmed by the copper smell of blood and the excrement of the dead. He felt cold as he managed to turn his head towards the tear-stained face of his distraction. Smiling, he closed his eyes, feeling no remorse.

  #

  He skulked in the shadows watching to see which way the tides would turn. He wasn't a coward, but why fight when a knife in the back would suffice. He had killed many in the darkness, even before the king turned mad.

  Slipping into the clothes of one of the dead villagers, he blended in. All those who knew his face where dead, and the survivors too dazed to know he wasn't one of them. The king would reward him handsomely for the information he would gather.

  To be continued...

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to my husband, Allan who read the same words over and over whenever I made changes and I apologize for all the mornings when he would wake up, and I would still be awake typing.

  Thank you to my children, who put up with hours of writing and all the drives where I would carry a notepad and pen with me.

  Thank you to Rosemarie Cawkwell who read over and helped me with the early drafts, your help was invaluable.

  Thank you to my editor Brian Tedesco for adding the polish to my work.

  Author Website.

  http://michelleconnorauthor.co.uk/