Rianna ground her teeth into his palm, biting down hard until the metallic taste of his blood filled her mouth. With an angry grunt he let go of her and she turned and plunged the knife she’d kept hidden in her hand deep into his flesh. The man gave a shrill scream of pain as he looked down in disbelief at the knife embedded to the wooden hilt, only inches from his burgeoning prick.
She turned and ran, darting between two of the seated men, nimbly evading them when they reached out to catch her. She had barely run a few paces before she was grabbed by many hands pawing at her, pulling her back. She fought hard, squirming and screaming, but her cries for help were stifled by a wad of foul-tasting rags, which were thrust into her mouth. Before she could spit them out, she was gagged by a roll of fabric, which was pulled so tight it dug into the corners of her lips.
She lost all sense of time and space as she was manhandled into the centre of the group and flung down on to a blanket. Countless fingers clawed at her, pulling her arms and legs apart like a starfish stranded on a desolate beach. Rianna was too caught up in her terror to hear the sounds of running feet, the furious shouts of Leon’s men coming to her rescue, followed by the clash of weapons as they fought the mercenaries who were equally determined to stop them.
Her attackers tore her shirt to shreds, ripping the tattered remnants from her body, then tried to pull off her breeches, which proved to be far more difficult to remove. She fought, squirming and wriggling, using every ounce of strength she possessed until fire filled her lungs and scorched her throat. Naked and helpless, tears sliding down her face, she felt hands touch her intimately in a multitude of places. They roughly caressed her breasts, pulling at her nipples, while callused fingers stroked her belly and explored between her thighs. Despite her fear and disgust, she became aroused. Terror made the blood course through her veins as a wild, strangely invigorating need consumed her senses. She loathed what they were doing to her, yet she welcomed it. Rianna had no chance to question her body’s strange response as fingers were thrust inside her, her violator grunting with pleasure when he found how moist and slippery she already was.
He thrust deeper into the wet opening and Rianna whimpered into her gag as she unconsciously lifted her hips. Feverish with the lustful fire that ripped through her flesh, she felt arousal increase as a multitude of hands stimulated her basest senses. The cruel pleasure expanded until, to her chagrin and relief, her vaginal muscles contracted in a violent climax.
Tears of self-recrimination and disgust stained her flushed cheeks as she stared wide-eyed at the men crowded about her. Rianna shivered in apprehension as they parted and a man stepped between her splayed legs. His breeches were round his ankles and his stubby red cock stood proudly out from a nest of black hair. Bile rose in her throat, yet her body trembled at the thought of something so crudely substantial invading her most intimate parts. The smell of sweat, leather and sour wine filled her nostrils; panic consumed her and yet she still had the overwhelming need to climax again and again.
Nothing made any sense any more and she moaned, wishing she could lose herself in the dark depths of unconsciousness. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, as she felt the hot head of the man’s penis pressing against the aching opening of her empty pussy. Yet there was no brutal thrust, no cock sliding deep inside her, just a dull grunt before something extraordinarily heavy fell across her, almost crushing her with its weight. The cruel hands released her, no longer clutching at her ankles and wrists as the weight was lifted from her body and she heard a gentle, sing-song voice ask, ‘Are you hurt, my lady?’
Rianna glanced down at the crimson smears of blood on her stomach and legs. ‘No,’ she murmured, as she saw the man who’d been about to violate her lying on the ground, the hilt of a dagger protruding from his back. ‘Thank you,’ she said weakly as Chang wrapped her in a blanket and lifted her into his arms.
‘Is she hurt?’ Niska asked, her pale eyes alight with anger, as she met Chang by the entrance to her tent.
‘I do not think so,’ Chang replied quite unemotionally as he carried his burden into Rianna’s portion of Niska’s tent. ‘I reached the lady just in time,’ he added, laying Rianna down on to her mattress.
‘Before they fucked her senseless.’ Niska’s face was a mask of frustrated fury. ‘You should have let them do it. What was she thinking?’
Rianna had her eyes closed and she was shivering uncontrollably. Tanith kneeled down beside her and pulled back the blanket, biting her lip with concern as she saw the blood smeared over Rianna’s stomach and thighs.
‘It’s not hers,’ Chang said flatly as Tanith wrung out a cloth in warm water and began to dab nervously at the crimson stains. He looked at Niska. ‘I doubt you would have wanted them to violate her. She’s delicately bred. They would have ripped her to pieces. Then she would have been no use to us.’
‘I suppose you are right,’ Niska agreed. ‘But how could she have been stupid enough to leave the safety of my tent?’
‘Why would she have been wandering around the camp in the middle of the night?’ Chang added, with a troubled frown. ‘I warned Lady Rianna only this morning to keep well away from my men.’ He shook his head. ‘I confess I do not understand women.’
‘Rianna will have to be kept confined in future,’ Niska said thoughtfully. ‘I cannot allow this to happen again. Did we lose any men?’
‘I’ve yet to count the full cost. Horod is checking now.’ Chang watched Tanith gently cleanse between Rianna’s bruised thighs. ‘A number of Captain Leon’s soldiers heard her screams and rushed to her rescue. At least two were mortally wounded in the resulting fracas,’ Chang said in a low voice. ‘Come let us leave your maid to her task,’ he added, escorting Niska out of Rianna’s earshot.
‘The loss of any of Leon’s men is of little concern,’ Niska said curtly. ‘It leaves us less to turn to our cause, or be rid of. Yet I fear some of our men may have been wounded or even died, which will deplete our forces.’
‘We’ve more than enough to reach Vestfold in perfect safety,’ Chang assured her. ‘You just need to ensure that nothing like this happens again. I presume I have your permission to punish those involved?’ he asked, pausing at the entrance to Niska’s tent.
‘Notwithstanding Lady Rianna, of course.’ Niska pursed her lips. ‘I’ll deal with her myself.’
‘I expected you to do so.’ There was just the faintest glimmer of Chang’s inscrutable smile as he added, ‘A dozen lashes will suffice for the men who dared attack the noble lady.’ He touched the ornate hilt of the dagger stuck in his belt. ‘Although I’d as soon slit their throats. My authority needs to be impressed on all the men, not one of them must be seen to disobey my commands. I issued a number of specific orders before we set out. They included instructions to stay away from all women – even those we came across on our journey north.’
‘I will take pleasure in witnessing the punishments,’ Niska said with a cruel smile. ‘I find whippings so stimulating. Speak to me later, Chang. Let me know when they will take place.’
‘As you wish.’ Chang bowed very formally, then strode off.
Niska was still angered by Rianna’s stupid behaviour, but she did pause to wonder if she could find a way to use it to her advantage. She had been in the forest leaning against a tree, fornicating with Leon, when Rianna’s first distant scream had punctuated the still night air. Leon had been so caught up in his imminent climax that he hadn’t heard the sounds and Niska had believed it to be Tanith screaming. She had thought that a good fucking by a few of the men would teach Tanith to be more cautious about wandering around the camp in future.
Leon had heard the screams that followed, and he’d flung on his breeches and gone to investigate, while Niska had returned to her tent and found Rianna missing. By then a pitched battle was in progress between the members of Leon’s troop, who had gone to Rianna’s aid, and the mercenaries trying to stop the soldiers interfering with their compatriots’ pleasures. Only Chang’s timely inte
rvention had stopped the slaughter.
Niska sighed with relief when she spotted Leon, apparently unhurt, striding towards her clad in nothing but his breeches. His expression was tense and his features tight with cold. Oddly enough she had grown quite fond of him of late, but she would still toss him aside without a second thought once his usefulness was at an end.
‘Is Lady Rianna harmed?’ Leon asked.
‘Be assured she is not.’ Niska took hold of his icy cold arm and led him inside her tent and over to a brazier, which glowed redly in the dim interior. ‘She’s upset, but apart from that unharmed,’ Niska said as she draped a fur-lined cloak around his shoulders.
‘Did they . . .’
‘No,’ she interjected. ‘Chang and his men reached her in time. They’d stripped her, but as far as I know none had yet violated her.’
‘Prince Tarn would never have forgiven me,’ Leon said shakily.
‘It is not your fault.’ Niska could understand the guilt he was feeling. Leon still remained loyal to Prince Tarn. Not for long, however, she thought, as she gently touched his tense cheek. ‘This only happened because Rianna stupidly chose to wander around the camp in the middle of the night.’
‘Why would she do such a thing?’ Leon asked. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Neither do I,’ Niska agreed. ‘Chang warned her only this morning to keep well away from his men.’
‘I have to see her.’ Leon swivelled around agitatedly. ‘I must see for myself that she is unhurt.’
‘Of course you must.’ By now Tanith would have given Rianna something to calm her and make her sleep, Niska thought. Even if she were awake she would be too confused for her words to make any sense. ‘First dress yourself. I had your garments brought back to the camp.’
Niska watched Leon pull on his boots and thrust his arms into his doublet, not even bothering to wait to fasten it as he strode into Rianna’s portion of the tent where Tanith had just finished tending to her. Tanith rose to her feet and carried away the soiled cloths and a basin of bloodstained water as Leon looked down at his charge. Rianna’s eyes were closed and she appeared to be asleep. There were no scratches or scars on her face and neck; the damage was hidden by her blankets, well out of Leon’s sight.
‘She looks well enough,’ Leon exclaimed with relief as he kneeled down beside Rianna.
‘Leon, is that you?’ Rianna murmured sleepily as she opened her eyes. ‘You came,’ she added in a low, breathy voice.
‘Of course I came, my lady,’ Leon said gently, then glanced up to Niska for reassurance.
‘You see she is unharmed,’ Niska said.
‘Leon,’ Rianna called out agitatedly, then mumbled something else but her words were near incomprehensible.
‘Speak slower, my lady,’ Leon urged, while Niska tensed nervously, digging her nails in the palm of her hand, hoping Rianna didn’t say anything untoward. ‘I did not hear what you said,’ he added, leaning closer to Rianna.
‘I wanted you,’ Rianna said in a faint, very slurred voice as she reached out for him, twining her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. ‘I had to tell you . . .’
‘Tell me what?’ Leon asked in confusion, so close to her now that their lips were almost touching.
‘I needed to speak to you.’ Rianna agitatedly ran her hand over his bare chest where his doublet gaped open. ‘Tell you that I needed you,’ she muttered shakily. ‘So much . . . it’s not Niska, it’s me you should . . .’ Rianna faltered, clutching agitatedly at Leon. ‘Promise me, my lo . . .’ Her voice trailed off as her eyes fluttered then closed.
Leon unwrapped her limp arm from his neck. ‘I don’t understand.’ He stared down at Rianna for a moment, then rose awkwardly to his feet.
‘It is perfectly clear to me.’ Niska took hold of his arm and led him into the main body of her tent. ‘Jealousy prompted Rianna to seek you out. She was coming to your tent, intent on seducing you and trapping you in her web of deception. Can you not see that?’
‘She intended to try and seduce me?’
‘Yes. It is obvious, is it not? Why else would she be creeping about the camp in the middle of the night?’
‘It is beyond belief.’ He shook his head. ‘She is betrothed to Tarn.’
‘I warned you about her, Leon.’ Niska was certain that Rianna had played right into her hands. ‘She is not to be trusted. You have to see her true perfidy for yourself.’
Sarin’s horse slowly picked its way down the steep, stone-strewn slope until it at last reached fairly level ground. The trek across the mountains had been hard. The narrow, icy path had been difficult to navigate and had even fallen away in a number of places. Ahead was a ribbon of flat land edged with a thin line of pines where the last wisps of a morning mist lingered. Behind the pines he could see a thick forest, where stark leafless branches reached up towards the clear blue sky.
‘We are in Kabra,’ Sarin announced with a triumphant smile as Zene reined in her horse beside him.
‘We are indeed,’ she agreed. ‘And we will have to seek out a village soon. Our supplies are running low, we barely have enough food, and no feed for the horses.’
‘Here in Kabra we can take anything we want,’ Sarin said confidently. ‘No peasant would dare deny the needs of a Percheron nobleman.’ He shaded his eyes from the bright sunshine and stared ahead. ‘See that thick plume of smoke in the distance. It is probably a charcoal burner. There’s bound to be a village close by.’
Zene frowned. Her relationship with Sarin had altered dramatically ever since the incident when he had more or less forced himself upon her. She’d reluctantly accepted that he was the leader now, and she had already been obliged to defer to him on a number of occasions. ‘It will be strange,’ she said. ‘To be in a land where women have little or no control.’
‘That is as it should be.’ Sarin chuckled cheerfully. ‘You’ll soon learn to accept it, Zene. Who knows, you may even come to enjoy being cherished and protected by a man.’
‘I doubt that,’ she replied. ‘Let’s go.’ She dug her heels into her chestnut’s flanks. It surged forwards and settled into a fast canter, easily navigating the gently undulating ground. Sarin followed, his huge black stallion leaping forwards, enjoying the prospect of a fast canter after hours of picking its way down the treacherous slopes. The stallion easily overtook Zene’s mount and galloped ahead towards the forest.
Leaves were beginning to sprout and some of the trees were already festooned with cascades of pink and white blossom. Carpets of bluebells covered the ground and as they moved deeper into the forest the blooms were crushed beneath the horses’ hooves, scenting the cool morning air with the strong smell of spring.
Sarin had been right about the charcoal burner. They skirted his smoky clearing and entered a village of houses with low thatched roofs. Most were made of wattle, but a few of the wealthy villagers had houses built of stone. The inhabitants paused to stare curiously at the two riders, with Zene’s unusual appearance causing the most interest. The village women wore long gowns of blue or grey, covered by shapeless tunics in a profusion of different colours. Unlike Zene, who wore her long copper curls unbound, theirs were tightly plaited and fixed close to their heads.
‘Is that how women dress here?’ Zene wrinkled her nose. ‘They look most unattractive.’
Sarin found it amusing that a warrior such as Zene should even care. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said out of the corner of his mouth. ‘I would never expect you to dress like that,’ he added, repelled by the women’s work-weary faces and shapeless garments.
‘Thank the gods,’ Zene muttered.
All of a sudden they found their way barred by a small group of men armed with long wooden staves.
‘Why do you enter our village, strangers?’ the man leading them asked. He wore dung-coloured garments like the other men, but his were of a far better quality. Judging by his wrinkled face and the white streaks in his dark hair, he was a village elder.
‘Strang
ers?’ Sarin repeated in confusion. They did not sound at all welcoming. He drew himself erect in his saddle. ‘Do you not recognise a nobleman of Percheron?’
‘Percheron.’ The leader spat on the ground. ‘You’ll get nothing from us. Most of you scum have already fled.’
‘Fled?’ Zene asked, then stiffened as they all turned to stare at her.
‘Yes, fled.’ The man grinned as his eyes fastened on Zene’s shapely legs and the generous amount of bosom that was revealed by her low-cut top. ‘Did you not know that Prince Tarn drove the Percheron army from our land?’
‘My army is in retreat?’ Sarin exclaimed.
‘Apart from a few stragglers,’ the young man standing by the leader’s side said. ‘You should have left with them.’
‘Stragglers? How long ago did the last ones depart?’ Sarin asked.
‘The last soldiers to travel through here were not stragglers,’ the leader said and shrugged his bony shoulders. ‘They were a small troop of soldiers who’d been given a promise of safe passage by our king.’ Pausing he stepped closer to Sarin, his strong body odour became very apparent, as he stared insolently up at him. You seem unduly interested in them, stranger?’
‘If my country’s army is in retreat, I would perhaps be safer travelling with them,’ Sarin pointed out. ‘Tell me what you know of them, and which way they went.’
‘For a price.’ The man held out his hand, which shook slightly. His knuckles were red and swollen. ‘Pay me for the information, and we’ll allow you to continue on your way. Otherwise . . .’ he said and grinned evilly at Zene, whose hand now rested very pointedly on the pommel of her sword.
‘Zene.’ Sarin glanced at her. ‘Pay him.’
Reluctantly she removed a coin from the pouch at her waist and tossed it to the man, who caught it neatly despite the shakiness of his hands. ‘I do not know what good it will do you,’ she muttered. ‘It’s the coin of Freygard.’
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