Both of them moved out of Garan’s sight. Praise the Wing! he thought, relieved. He heard them undress, making all kinds of strange noises as they fell on the bed. He shut his eyes and endeavored to block out the sound of their lovemaking.
What he had heard had left Garan reeling. Laidan was in this man’s hands, safe for the moment, but not for long. They had killed Thurdon with poison. He wasn’t sure about the power they mentioned and Laidan’s state. Perhaps she had been poisoned too. He struggled against his bonds. He needed to relieve himself and he was hungry as well as still slightly light-headed from the blow he’d received.
Sometime later the door to the closet opened slowly. Garan jerked his head around and saw a thin, shabby old woman enter. There was silence in the room beyond; he realized he must have been dozing because he hadn’t heard Lenk and his lover leave. The old woman knelt and undid his gag, then held a cup to his lips and bade him to drink. While his gaze flicked around the room, he took careful sips of the water, wishing it were dragon wine. She stayed crouched beside him and reached out the door to pick up something. “You’ll be wanting this too, I expect.” It was a chamber pot.
He nodded and ignored any embarrassment he might have felt while the woman undid his trousers and helped him relieve himself. He was bursting. “Oh my, you are a biggun’,” she said as she did up his pants again before leaving the closet. A few minutes later she returned. “Can you eat?” she asked.
“Who are you?” he asked in a croaky voice, hoping he wasn’t still blushing from her comments.
After a quick look behind her, she leaned forward. “I’m a house slave, Mart’s the name,” she replied just above a whisper. “Well? Will you eat? He wants you well enough to talk. I’m to tell him when you’ve eaten.”
Garan nodded. “Thank you. Is she …?”
Mart looked over her shoulder again, nervously checking that no one was near enough to hear her. “You mean the young girl who was with old master Thurdon?”
Garan couldn’t help the look of hope that spread over his face. “Yes, have you seen her? Is she well?”
Mart flapped a casual, dismissive hand. “She’ll live. From what I can tell naught’s happened to her. Lenk be coddling her and cooing at her too. He’s not even sated himself between her legs yet, which is mighty strange if you ask me. Not like him at all.” She paused to spit, as if just saying the words brought back memories. “Even if he beats her that’s nothing that the best of us haven’t had happen sometime or other, some of us more than others. We’re all slaves … just some of us don’t know it.”
“Has she spoken?”
Mart scrunched up her face in an attempt at a smile. “Sweet on her, are ya? Want me to let ya go so ya can have your fill, do ya? Well, I’ll not be party to that. No, I won’t. I’ve had to refuse five guards already this morning, all promising me favors and lavishing praise on me, just so they can gawk at her and hump her stupid. Won’t have Lenk beating me up for ya. Had my share of beatings.” She winked at him, an oddly nervous gesture. “You don’t know, do ya? Bewitched she is. Addled, on account of her master dying. They say her eyes were glowin’ when they found her with the old gent. They say she’s poisoned him.” Mart nodded her head slowly. “Oh yes, she’s imp … imrapacated in the old rover’s death. Lenk’s given her protection.”
“She’d never hurt Thurdon. She loved the old man like he was her father.”
“Really? They say she was his whore. But I don’t believe it. Never caught that old man fondling the slaves nor anyone else. Good man, he was.”
Garan kept his eyes locked with Mart’s. “Let me go to her. I’ll stay and talk to Lenk. I have nothing to hide or fear. Please, let me tend her.”
Mart shook her head and backed away. “Sorry, lad. I likes ya. Likes yer pretty eyes and hair. By the size of ya you’d even be fun to bed. Can’t help ya, though. Slave’s gotta live. And I’m old, ya see. Not so young anymore that I can let a pretty face sway me from my duty. Only thing I’ve got worth anything is my loyalty to the house.”
Garan nodded, realizing he had reached the end of the woman’s goodwill. “Thank you, Mart. You’re a good woman. Tell Lenk I’m ready to talk.”
Mart backed out. Garan waited for nearly an hour before guards came to drag him from the closet. He was hauled to a room across the hall and secured upright to a pillar before the guards left. Immediately his eyes were riveted to Laidan, who was reclining on the couch, chest rising and falling as if in sleep. In that green dress she looked like a princess. It made his eyes water thinking of how beautiful she was, and how truly sweet she could be when she was pleased.
Mart came in and kept her eyes averted from him. She went straight to Laidan with a pink robe over her arm. Garan strained to see what she was doing and when he realized that she was undressing Laidan and putting the robe on her, he felt his face heat and looked away.
Without a word Mart left with the green dress over her arm. Laidan lay against the cushions with her eyes closed. The pink robe was tied around her waist with a belt. Through the slit in the robe, the soft curve of her breasts was visible and so was a glimpse of pale thigh. He swallowed once. She looked so vulnerable dressed like that.
Lenk entered the room in a leisurely fashion, not even casting his gaze toward Garan, although Garan was sure the prince was aware of him. He strode over to Laidan and caressed her cheek. She didn’t move or respond. “Such a beautiful, sweet creature. Don’t you think so?”
Lenk left Laidan’s side, strode over to Garan and whispered, “I may let you watch from the closet when I take her to my bed. You will enjoy it when she cries out my name as I thrust my seed into her.”
“Bastard!” Garan struggled against his bonds.
Lenk smiled an ugly smile. “So there is a reason that you are here. Not just a spy for the observatory. You came for her …”
“Let her go. Untie me. I have been sent to bring her back.”
Lenk’s face was spread with mock surprise. “Laidan? But she is to be my wife. I’ve decided to make her my princess. It will be so exhilarating to see the blooded sheets on my wedding night. I’ve never taken a virgin before … so rare they are … or perhaps I should sample her now?”
Garan found his cheeks awash with tears, whether from relief that Lenk hadn’t harmed her or because he was helpless to prevent it if the prince chose to do so. They had not defiled her or even beaten her. Yet. “No, you can’t do that. If you keep her others will come for her.”
Lenk’s eyebrow rose. “Really? What a strange thing for the observatory to do. Not in all its history have they dared to interfere in Vanden’s internal affairs. By marrying her I’ll protect her from allegations of poisoning, of witchery. She is not a Skywatcher, so what business is it of the observatory? If they meddle I’ll have to do something about it. Perhaps without supplies …”
Garan wished he hadn’t spoken, hadn’t risen to the other man’s bait. “You depend on the gems you get from us. You couldn’t withhold—” Garan’s voice betrayed his fear.
“Gems? Oh—the gems!” Lenk stood up and dusted off his trousers. “The ones that can’t even buy us dragon wine? Those gems.”
Garan frowned. There was a ring of truth to the usurper’s sarcastic words. “Can’t buy dragon wine? But everyone drinks it, don’t they?”
Lenk was nodding. “As we run down our supplies so too will your friends on the mountain. Perhaps I could trade your girlfriend for some. I have a powerful friend who will come here soon—says he has wine. He’d be interested in a certain gift that Thurdon gave her.”
“No,” Garan yelled.
“Until then I may as well exploit her treasures myself. Unless you want to tell me about Thurdon’s power and how I can access it?”
Garan gaped. “I know nothing of this power you speak of.”
“How typical. Don’t think you are safe—with that powerful manly build and those violet-colored eyes and fair complexion you’ll fetch a pretty price yourself on the fl
esh market. So I say let your friends come. They can and will do nothing. Trithorn Peak will cease to exist without our trade.”
Garan fought savagely against his bonds, growling out his frustration while Lenk looked on, unmoved by his struggles. Then, giving Garan a withering smile, Lenk punched him in the ribs.
“Watch and weep … you overgrown lout,” Lenk said before turning back to Laidan. Lenk sat her up and placed himself next to her with his arms across her shoulders. Her head lolled toward Lenk and he whispered to her and tangled his hands in her hair. It was such a mockery of intimacy. Garan saw that Laidan’s expression was strange, flat, and her eyes were unfocused … Something strange about the eyes—light emanated from them. It was true then. His breath caught at the sight.
Garan couldn’t help but rise to her defense. “Don’t hurt her, please. Ask me more questions … anything. But leave her be.”
Lenk stroked her cheek and kissed her lips gently, like an attentive lover. He locked gazes with Garan when he lifted his head. “Hurt her … why would I do that? I will teach her to enjoy me. She will be my pretty little whore.” He whispered to her again and, tipping her face in his direction, she opened her mouth and he kissed her deeply, passionately. Garan’s heart thudded. How many times had he dreamed of kissing her like that? How the sight of Lenk with her twisted his gut with spasms of anger. It wasn’t jealousy. No, that bastard was defiling her. The usurper prince had his hands on the back of Laidan’s head, and she was unresisting as he thrust his tongue into her mouth. It was as if she wanted Lenk to penetrate her that way, to thrust his will into her with his tongue. No, Laidan. Stop! he silently raged. Watching was unbearable, so Garan tried to look away, but he was transfixed by the sight of the prince edging open Laidan’s robe, of him grasping her exposed breasts.
“Oh, so luscious,” Lenk said as he took a pink nipple into his mouth while he groaned with pleasure. A quick flick of his tongue as he let her breast go and he turned to face Garan again. “Do you wish this was you? Don’t look away, young Skywatcher. You might learn some skill from me.”
Garan hit his head against the pillar when he tried once again to pull free of his bonds. “Please stop!” he said, panting. “I’ll tell you what you want to know. But don’t defile—”
“You have nothing to tell me, or so you said. Everything I want is in this little package here.” Reaching down he nudged Laidan’s thighs apart, sliding his hand upward. “Watch me while I taste her …”
Just then there was a loud bang as Tuan burst unceremoniously through the doors, sending them crashing against the wall. “My lord! You must come at once.”
Lenk withdrew his hands from Laidan and she fell sideways back onto the couch. “Damn you, Tuan. What is it now? Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“It is urgent, my lord. Otherwise I would not have disturbed you.” Tuan’s gaze flicked to Laidan and he shrugged. “I’m sorry.”
“Magol curse it!”
Lenk stood and met Garan’s gaze. “I’ll be back, Skywatcher. And then you will be sorry you interfered in my business. You’ll watch while your pretty little maid willingly and unprotestingly becomes my whore.” He rolled his left shoulder once and clenched and unclenched his fist before heading out of the room. “Guard the door!” he yelled at a one of his men in the hall before slamming the door behind him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
A River of Rebels
Garan let out a shaky breath, glad that Tuan had called Lenk away. Laidan didn’t move or react to Lenk’s absence or Garan’s presence. This worried him, and so did the general situation in Vanden. If only Fillbe had been alive. Now it was left to him to save Laidan and he had proved himself inadequate.
Garan’s mouth was dry and his parched tongue failed to moisten his cracked lips. Despite this his head was clear. He squeezed his fingers into a fist. In some positions, the blood flowed freely, bringing on a burning and tingling sensation. He stifled a groan as he breathed through the pain. Yet his discomfort was slight compared to what Laidan must be feeling—fear, humiliation, sorrow for the loss of Thurdon. He wondered at the cause of her lethargy, her unresponsiveness.
He glanced over to where Laidan lay and strained to obtain a better view of her. She was still and unmoving. A moan from her gave him hope. What did Lenk want with her? Was a desire to possess her sufficient reason for Lenk to go against the observatory? He had mentioned power, something about Thurdon. Laidan’s eyes did glow unnaturally—was that a sign of power? Surely she was innocent of any involvement in Thurdon’s death, so was it this power he wanted?
Suddenly Garan became aware of the sound of boots pounding down the halls and up the stairs of the manor house, and this was soon followed by yells from outside the window. The quiet after the commotion brought all manner of suppositions to mind. Had they left? Were they dead? Time passed and there was no further noise in the house. He began to think that now was an ideal time to escape. Through the window he could see that it was nearing dusk as shades of bright pink and red streaked across the heavens.
The sky signs portended a dust storm, perhaps on the morrow. As long as there was no rain all would be well, for the two together would hamper their escape. It was best not to be in the open when the conditions were ripe for acid rain. Garan was confident that they could get away, if only he could rouse Laidan. She was unbound and, therefore, in theory able to aid in her own release.
A distant crash echoed outside in the grounds, making Garan start. Was that the gates collapsing? This thought was confirmed when the sounds of many voices shouting and intermittent screams and yells echoed outside. Although he welcomed the diversion, he had a growing concern that the danger they were in was increasing rather than decreasing.
“Laidan!” he called to her. She didn’t respond. “Laidan!” he nearly yelled. “For the sake of our lives, please wake up.”
He saw her leg jerk, and then her right arm. Then her body seemed to convulse. His spirits began to lift. Something slammed against the doors to the room, putting his nerves on edge. Swinging his head around to stare at the door, he chewed his lips, watching, waiting to see if they would break through. A few tense breaths later, the doors held and the disturbance moved on. With his ears trained to decipher the noises in the house, he heard the sound of breakage, boots tramping on floorboards, intermittent crashes and low pounding on the walls interspersed with the sounds of general chaos outside.
Struggling against his bonds he called, “Laidan, if you hear me, please moan or do something. You have to untie me.” A groan of frustration escaped him as he ceased his pointless writhing. With a calm sense of authority he said evenly, “We have to flee.”
Indeed, it seemed clear now they had no choice but to flee, if they wanted to live. Laidan did not respond. The hope that had arisen when he’d seen her move dissipated. Not long after, faint whiffs of smoke swirled in the air, causing Garan’s anxiety to increase further. When the smoke grew thicker and stronger, he became more desperate, tugging against the rope and calling to Laidan with rising hysteria. He thought to provoke her by calling her names he’d used when she was young. “Useless, scrawny, little brat!”
More screams, closer now, prompted even greater urgency. The bellowing of orders and the sounds of weapons clashing followed soon after. A loud retort some distance away shook the building. In less than five minutes the air was filled with smoke. Garan was now sure the manor house was well and truly on fire. He turned to see smoke roiling under the door. Garan coughed.
“Laidan. Please!”
There was a faint moan from Laidan, then another. Her hand moved; she lifted it to her head. Frustration and hope warred within Garan.
“Laidan, can you hear me?” he asked half-disbelievingly, his voice sounding calm to his own ears. When he got no response he said in a louder and more urgent voice, “Laidan, we are in extreme danger. Get up!”
“Garan?” she said faintly, her hand fluttering from her face to the settee. At first he couldn’
t quite believe he had heard her voice. She coughed once.
“Laidan!”
Groggily, she sat up and coughed again. The pink robe parted, revealing two small white breasts. “Is it really you, Garan?”
He swallowed painfully. “Yes, ’tis me. Can you stand? Can you walk over here and untie me?” Her eyes transfixed him. They were like twin beacons of light, especially noticeable now the sun was setting. She seemed unaware of him and her state of undress. If she stood, she’d be next to naked. Garan closed his gaping mouth and trained his eyes on the floor, blinking back the tears from the stinging smoke.
“I think so,” she said. “Why are you tied up? I can’t remember clearly. There is so much light. I can hardly make you out.”
Garan had another look at the darkened room. “Light?”
Her eyes, then? Wing dust! “Can you see the pillar? I’m here. You need to come behind me and untie me. Hurry!”
“Garan, I can barely see.” She coughed, waving a hand in front of her face. “Is that a fire? Is something burning in the town?”
“Us, if you don’t hurry. The manor house is on fire. I think rebels or some other group have attacked Lenk. We need to get out of here now before we get caught up in the mayhem.”
Laidan blindly groped and stumbled her way toward him.
“What about Lenk?” There was a slight catch to her voice when she mentioned her captor. “He’ll be angry if I’m not here.”
“I’ve not seen him for a while,” he answered, noting her slow progress without looking at her nakedness. She was nearer now. “There, stop there and go behind. You should be able to feel my hands and the ropes.” He felt her fingertips brushing against his wrists.
“I can feel the knot. I really can’t see it well enough to untie it quickly.” She coughed again, deep, choking coughs, which made her cease untying. Garan was breathing shallowly and his eyes were stinging. The smoke gathered up on the ceiling, leaving the air relatively breathable below. Already he was assessing the room to see how they could escape with fire outside the door. It had to be the window and the river. Could Laidan swim? It hardly mattered; it was the only way out.
Shatterwing: Dragon Wine 1 Page 20