Shatterwing: Dragon Wine 1

by Donna Maree Hanson

  She touched Garan lightly on the arm. “Can you see it, Garan?”

  He was quiet for a moment, biting his lower lip, then he bent his head toward her.

  “Not exactly. The river has brought us quite a way downstream and I think we crossed over to the other side. Perhaps if we continue to backtrack toward Vanden, keeping the river on our right, I’ll see it.”

  Just then Laidan’s heart skipped a beat. “Did you hear that?”

  Garan’s head jerked up, his gaze wary. “Quiet,” he said softly.

  Laidan had heard a noise like rocks tumbling together. The leaves of the trees trembled in the breeze. The crunch crunch of pebbles shifting sounded behind them. She swung round again, sensing movement. They weren’t alone. Garan grabbed her hand and squeezed it. He tensed, readying himself to run. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the ground move.

  “Garan,” she said, unable to hide the fear in her voice. Turning full circle, they saw men emerge from the ground, their camouflage cloaks snapping in the breeze.

  Thurdon was mercifully quiet in her mind. She lowered her eyes to hide their glow. Garan’s hand sweated, and he squeezed hers so hard she felt the bones crunch together. They were surrounded.

  Keeping her eyes on the approaching men, she saw that the majority were dressed in guard uniforms from Vanden and others in manual laborers’ trews and aprons. She whispered to Garan, “Are they rebels or Lenk’s men?”

  The circle tightened around them. Garan pulled her close to him, but he neither ran nor readied himself for a fight. The air was so close and the faint residue of the rain soured every breath. She wiped sweat from her brow, glancing up at Garan. Fear was writ all over his face, and his violet eyes were dark pools as he chewed his lower lip. Quietly he said into her ear, “Doesn’t matter which … both are to be avoided.”

  A large man with a scarred face separated from the rest and moved forward, followed by another man, thinner and slightly shorter. “Escapees from Vanden, I see? Just what I’ve been looking for—saw you leave town and thought you’d make nice booty.”

  Garan made himself appear taller. “We are Skywatchers from Trithorn Peak. We have nothing to do with Vanden.”

  The man with the scarred face was staring at Laidan. When Garan spoke, he shifted his gaze to him and stepped closer, rolling his shoulder as if he had an injury that pained him. “We found the place where you dumped your sodden food on the riverbank. Easy enough to track you from there.” He leered at Garan. “Pretty boy … mmm … you’d make a good trade for goods, I expect.” The shorter man, who had some kind of malady that speckled his dark skin with white patches, moved toward her. His eyes were almost black. “An even rarer beauty,” he said, giving her a mocking bow. Laidan wanted to retort, though the pressure of Garan’s hand stayed her. The first man spun around, his stinking cloak hitting her face. “Bring them, Bevan,” he said to his offsider.

  “Yes, Nulf,” Bevan replied, signaling for three others to approach.

  Laidan’s anger at Garan rose when he let the rebels tie them up without a word or a hint of a fight. Then he stumbled like a fool when one of the men shoved him. “Why didn’t we resist?” she asked, hissing the words at him. Their hands were bound in front of them and the three men guarded them as they fell into step behind the rest of the rebels.

  He looked at her with those violet-colored eyes of his glittering with futile anger, but he said not a word.

  “Shut up!” one of the men said before he shoved her from behind, making her stumble. Garan caught her before she fell and she shrugged him off. Thurdon’s presence was gone for the moment, a strange and inexplicable lull.

  Laidan was used to walking. She’d been trekking across the land most of her life. They trudged over the plain until the ground began to undulate with soft brown hills. Garan maintained the pace, but when she glanced at him she noticed signs of weariness around his eyes and mouth. When they reached the top of the first hill, Laidan caught a glimpse of the river. It appeared the rebels were taking them upstream, though further inland from Vanden. She allowed that thought to give her some hope.

  The motley group of men halted the march and broke out rations. Bevan handed them both a small piece of old, hard bread. While sitting down to eat it, Garan leaned toward her on the pretext of offering her his own serving of bread. “They are taking us close to where we need to go. Stay close to me so that we can escape.”

  She refused his bread. There was no wine. Garan’s had been confiscated along with the contents of his pack. “We should have been more careful, then we wouldn’t need to be escaping.”

  His lips quirked into a shy smile. “’Tis too true.”

  A guard paced around them, his clothes ragged-edged and dirty. Garan bit into his bread and chewed, observing the man watching them. Laidan thought he was wary, but not necessarily worried. Nulf, who seemed to be the leader, headed in their direction. Garan frowned and shared a quick, warning look with her. A shiver ran up her spine and her breath caught in her throat. She really didn’t like that disgusting man.

  Nulf’s dark eyes passed over her. Although he focused his attention on Garan, she sensed he was concentrating on her. Garan stumbled to his feet so that he stood a head taller than the leader. “You! Tell me what this Trithorn Peak will pay to have you back. Speak quickly.”

  Garan lowered his gaze. “The observatory will pay handsomely for our return. Our trade is in gems.”

  “Gems … Vanden’s cache? Enough to buy weapons?”

  Garan shrugged lightly. “Plenty of weapons.”

  “I will send a messenger to deliver the ransom demand for you.” Nulf’s eyes met Laidan’s. “You will stay with me.”

  “No!” Garan went to lunge but was struck across the knees from behind. Through teeth clenched in pain, he said, “I’ll not leave without her.”

  Nulf punched Garan in the jaw and bellowed, “Fool. If you want to live at all you will leave her with me and say nothing more. She’s just a woman with a pretty face, snowy white legs and a moist cleft in between. I hear Lenk wanted her, and it would give me no greater satisfaction than to take something he wants. If you are smart you’ll forget all about her.” He turned to the guard. “Bring her to my tent when we camp tonight and double the guard on him.”

  Laidan felt as if the ground had swallowed her up. How dare that smelly, ugly, fat old pig say those callous, disgusting things about her? She ground her teeth together and chanced a look at Garan. He looked so stricken he could barely glance at her. The guard watched them and grinned, showing missing teeth. She thought she might throw up.

  Later, as they trudged through the late afternoon sun, Laidan was feeling done in. She was thirsty. Thoughts of what lay ahead made each step harder to take. Standing to the side was Nulf, watching his men bring up their captives. He noticed her weary state and stopped the march. “Bring her some watered wine. I want her fit, not half-dead from thirst, you fools.” A flask was procured. Nulf snatched the container and thrust the wine toward her. Laidan had no qualms, and quickly put the wine to her lips and drank deeply. Nulf watched her as she swallowed. Garan must be as thirsty as she was—dare she?

  After her thirst lessened and she was more refreshed, she asked, “May I offer some wine to my fellow Skywatcher?”

  Nulf’s gaze shifted to Garan, who stood very still. “You may … if you kiss me first.” He smiled then in a sickening sort of way that made her stomach twist. Backing up a step, she knew her face was bright red. She cast an uncertain glance at Garan, who shook his head ever so slightly, his expression pinched. Nulf snatched the flask and slipped it into his shirt, leering at her. At least his teeth were whole, she thought, though his cheeks were furred with stubble and sweat ran down his neck in muddy runnels.

  “Laidan,” Garan hissed, and struggled with the two guards holding him back.

  Ignoring him, she nodded to Nulf. Last year Garan had tried to kiss her, and she had slapped his face. But the experience hadn’t been that bad,
because she had actually liked Garan then and had wanted to be kissed. But he’d taken her to those dreadful caves and scared her senseless. Before she could draw breath, Nulf grabbed her roughly by the back of the neck and jerked her to him. She was too scared to fight as his lips mangled hers. She tried not to breathe because he smelled worse than acid rain fumes. After mashing his putrid mouth on hers, he stared into her face and grinned at her. “You’d be the one, all right. Lenk’s power maiden. Eyes that glow, they said. But you have no power to stop me, do you?” He shoved her away from him. She was busy wiping her mouth with the back of her bound hands while he chuckled to himself. A quick glance around revealed that all his men had watched him molest her, their gazes bright, wet.

  “Take it,” Nulf said, puffing out his chest. Her hands shook as she reached into his shirt to take the flask. With weak knees, she held the wine out to Garan.

  His expression was unreadable as he shrugged off the guards. Then with an angry glitter in his eyes he took the wine and drank quickly, gulping large mouthfuls before Nulf snatched it away. With another leer at her, Nulf trudged back to the head of the group, accepting with a smile their jests and lurid suggestions about her.

  Garan recommenced walking without a glance or a word to her.

  “The least you can do is thank me.”

  He answered in clipped tones. “I’ll not be thanking you for risking your life and safety. I’ve been listening and watching. These men are bandits with no political cause or morals. Understand?”

  “Can’t we negotiate with them?”

  “Negotiate? What do you expect he’ll do when he takes you to his tent? Discuss moonfall?”

  Laidan felt her face redden further. “I … I … Wing dust! You’ll have to get us out of here before then.”

  The look Garan gave her made her heart sink. “I’m working on it. Although if you would guard your favors instead of flaunting them, I’d be content.”

  “Content? What business is it of yours what I do?” Instantly she regretted saying it. The hurt in his eyes spoke volumes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  Ahead was a copse of trees. Her bladder was excruciatingly full and she couldn’t hold off any longer. Negotiating some privacy with the guard was difficult. However, once the guard agreed, he sent word up the line for the rest of them to wait. With a rope around her waist she went into the trees. Next it was Garan’s turn, and she could hear the guards teasing him about the size of his equipment. When Garan returned to her side, he avoided looking at her.

  After another hour or so of walking, the bandits headed into a narrow ravine, the entrance of which was concealed by trees and rocky outcrops. The water course that had carved through the soft sandstone had long ago dried up. It was the bandits’ main camp, she realized when they walked further in. The lead men dropped their supplies and added them to a big pile of rolled tents, food sacks and casks of wine.

  An exceptionally red dusk was cut off by the shadow cast by the ravine walls. Laidan looked around her, swallowing fear when she saw even more bandits lurking in the dark crannies, their gazes tracking her passage through the defile, making her feel as if she was naked.

  A lone structure stood out in the darkness and, as she drew closer, she saw it was a cell made from wood roped together to form rough bars. The ceiling was low and the three male prisoners within crouched to accommodate their bulk. A smell of excrement and refuse wafted over her, growing steadily stronger as they approached. Her steps slowed, but a shove from behind hastened her along. Hysteria neared the surface as she prepared to beg not to be thrown into the cage.

  Garan struggled against their captors as they tore at his clothes and hair to shove him in. One of the men held a knife to her throat. “Stop, or she dies.”

  Garan went quietly when he saw her predicament. The guards kneed him in the back, sending him sprawling onto the other captives. Laidan didn’t resist either when they shoved her head down to push her through the cage opening.

  Garan righted himself, awkwardly treading on the other prisoners, who shot threats at him. “Sorry,” he said as he sought a corner for them. The other three prisoners left little room for them even to crouch in. Garan pulled Laidan close into the space he occupied, sheltering her with his body. He smelled of sweat and dust, but his warmth was welcome. He touched her hair lightly. It comforted her and then brought tears to her eyes. “Oh, Garan. How are we going to escape now?”

  *

  Laidan woke to rough hands and strong fingers biting into her flesh. All hell was breaking loose in the cage as Nulf punched Garan in the face, sending him reeling back. While he lay stunned, she was dragged from the cage. “Garan!”

  “Come on,” Nulf said, pressing his fetid face close to hers. “You best behave or he’ll suffer for it.”

  From somewhere deep within her, resistance boiled to the surface. “You forget your ransom,” she replied, tilting her chin up. “The observatory won’t pay if you hurt him.”

  He laughed and grabbed her by the elbow to drag her along. “I never stated what condition I’d return him in. What does it matter to you? You won’t be going with him. You have plenty of work here.” He leered into her face and squeezed her breast. She batted his hand away with her bound hands, only to have him laugh at her. “What else is a body and face like yours for? When I’ve had my fill of you, I’ll have to share you with my men. But don’t worry your pretty head, because by then you’ll be well trained and it won’t hurt a bit.”

  Laidan struggled against his hold as he dragged her across the camp toward a rude and grimy-looking tent. His men stood up as they passed, jeering and laughing. His threats horrified her and all her hope for rescue centered on Garan, who was locked in a cell.

  “Save a bit of her for us, Nulf. We don’t need much,” cried a voice to her left.

  “Yes, just a nibble,” said another from behind.

  “Best paint her red, then we’ll be able to aim our darts,” shouted a man who leaped in front of them, only to be shoved aside by Nulf.

  “Nah, she has no hole.” More laughter.

  “Well, you have no rod!” A growl followed that comment.

  Laidan cringed. So that was what Thurdon had meant all those times she’d thought him prudish and overprotective. He had wanted to shield her from attention like this. Vomit rose in her throat. Her legs failed her, but Nulf lifted her under the arm and half-dragged her along with him.

  The sounds of a fight breaking out reached them. Nulf swore under his breath as he shoved her into the tent to fall onto his cot. When she bounded up from the unmade bed, he backhanded her. While she lay there, stunned, he removed her bonds and used them to tie her roughly to his bed.

  “Wait here. I have to deal with that mob first.” He mauled her mouth, grazing her lips with his teeth, before leaving her. Tears came—tears of terror mingled with relief that she had been given some kind of reprieve.

  Outside, the sounds of uproar increased. Nulf yelled over the top of the uproar, making himself heard. “You’ll get your turn.”

  His promises did not do the trick. The fight appeared to be out of hand, for the yells, grunts and the impact of fists were audible for some time. When Nulf returned he had blood on his shirt and a bruise under his left eye. Laidan stared up at the ceiling of the tent, feeling the pain in her bound limbs. Her bare legs were spread apart, anchored to the cot. Nulf stared at her with a wet look of anticipation in his eyes. Laidan’s mouth went dry. She didn’t think she could cope with what was coming next. Nulf took two steps and rummaged through a pile of clothes on a chair. A cup clattered to the ground and he picked it up and splashed in some wine. “Drink this.”

  The cup was filthy. She shook her head even though her throat was parched.

  “None of that. You’ll feel better after you drink this. Come on.” Kneeling down he put one hand behind her head and then tipped the cup with the other so that she could sip. Dark liquid swirled within. The aroma was delicious—dragon wine. She o
pened her mouth. It was pure dragon wine—the best and probably the most potent she had ever tasted. On an empty stomach, she felt a burning sensation in her chest and then the effect coursed through her body. Within minutes, she felt woozy and warm, felt the burning smoothness on her tongue and throat as Nulf tipped some more into her mouth. It was too heady. She closed her lips and tried to turn her face away.

  “Come on, drink all of it. You’ll be all soft and compliant then. Won’t be so a’feared of me either.” He squeezed her jaws open and poured more in. She could barely swallow it, was drowning in it. She so wanted him to stop because the wine was burning through her veins, filling her up with its potency. She started to spit it out. Nulf pulled the cup away.

  “Don’t waste it, you stupid cow.” Nulf drank the rest of it and then bent to lick the wine off her chin and neck.

  Her head spun. Nulf’s wet voice was in her ear. “Nice to see you so relaxed now. This won’t hurt a bit.”

  He groped beneath the dress Garan had fashioned, clawing his way up between her spread legs. His rough fingers probed her soft, moist flesh.

  “No. Stop!” Her voice was raw with panic despite the wine. She didn’t want this animal on her. Not then. Not ever.

  “Shut up, slut.” He stood up and started to loosen his trousers, undoing the dirty brown ties. She fought the haze in her mind, but the dragon wine was strong and she’d drunk so much that she now struggled to maintain focus. Nulf was taking his shirt off, revealing a scarred, furry chest and a bulging stomach. Casting the shirt aside, his trousers round his ankles, he knelt at the end of the bed and tried to take off her clothes. He cursed and tugged but they didn’t shift for Garan had sewed them onto her. Nulf hiked up the refashioned cloak, pushing it over her thighs, sliding it slowly over her hips. She shivered as his breath panted damply over her flesh. Again he began to probe her, more violently and urgently this time. Laidan screamed and struggled against her bonds.