Pure of Heart (the New Age Saga Book 2)

by Timothy A. Ray

  He shook his head weakly, not sure what the other woman was getting at.

  “You see, that old fool was told that when he rounded your group up to make sure they brought all your possessions with you, and it seems like there were some items missing, two swords?” the witch purred and he could feel the woman’s magic weaving through his brain, beckoning him to talk.

  He groaned in answer, his mouth still unable to give voice to his thoughts, despite the woman’s continued efforts.

  Sighing, the witch rose to her feet and withdrew a key from her robes. Inserting it into the lock, she undid the door and turned to the rising dwarf. “Ut pernoctabit,” she commanded and Token immediately hit the cell floor and began snoring. “Now, kiss my feet,” she told him and though his entire soul resisted, he felt his body begin to bend over and comply.

  No! his mind cried as his lips touched her bared and outstretched leg. He felt his lips kiss them softly and felt the revulsion of the cold skin’s touch.

  “Now, lay on the bed,” the woman commanded him once more and his body complied, ignoring his instructions to do the opposite. Stop! he yelled within the jail that had become his mind, yet his body stretched out on the bunk, laying prone and awaiting command. Melissa! Help me!

  He knew that he’d been heard but he received no answer. He heard muffled cries from the cell across the way, but his eyes refused to move to follow their sound. They were locked on the witch’s as she slid a finger along her robes and slid them free.

  Trying to regain control of his body, he tried to mentally block the other woman’s control, but the fingers slithering across his thoughts only tightened in response. Why had he not learned from Merlin how to keep people out?

  A tear slithered from the corner of his eye as the now naked, full breasted woman, stared down at him and commanded his hands to remove his clothing. They did as they were bid and his horror intensified. This was beyond violation, he could do nothing to resist, he was powerless.

  “There are other ways, of course, to extract the information I need, but this is the most fun. You see, if your girlfriend over there was allowed to carry to term, your bastard child would be a very powerful adversary for my Queen to deal with. That is why, no matter how much you beg or resist, she will be executed in the next few hours, silencing that threat forever,” the witch told him, sliding his clothes upon the floor and climbing on top of him.

  He couldn’t move his body, but he could feel everything and the sickening violation continued as she slid onto him, her hands upon his chest. “Now, if a child like that can be born to a lowly pathetic elf, what would come from a powerful witch like me?” she asked him, her face contorting with pleasure as her hips began to move.

  Mentally fighting every moment, he willed his hands to push her off, but they betrayed him and lay upon her full and perky breasts, twisting her nipples with his fingers. He could feel the blood pumping, the euphoria spreading, yet still he resisted. He could not let this happen.

  “Oh, do keep fighting, it makes this so much more intense,” the witch cackled, her hips sliding faster and her head thrown back. She fell forward upon him and forced her tongue into his mouth. He gagged as the long slithering muscle probed further than it should’ve been able to reach. Her hips were still moving and to his horror, his body was rising to meet her.

  “Harder,” she whispered, biting his lips and he felt his body increase its thrusts. Her fingers slid across his temples and she dove into his mind as her moans increased.

  Unbidden, the memories of everything that had happened since meeting up with Merlin flew through his mind, every bit revealed and inspected. “Faster,” she commanded and with strength and speed he had never known, his body complied with her request. His meeting with his father, the battle in the forest, the climb up the mountain, the revealing of the swords, all of it was laid bare as his body rushed towards climax.

  Body spasming, he watched in horror as she got off, screaming with her moans. Distantly he could hear the protests from the other cell, but he was lost to his uninvited orgasm and the raping of his mind. She continued on, exploring what had happened when he had been captured, searching for knowledge of where the swords had gone, but it was useless, as the last time that he’d seen them was on the bedrolls next to them. He had no idea why they hadn’t been found.

  Though he was well past spent, the witch looked in his eyes and silently commanded his body to keep going. It reacted to her words and the violation continued as images flowed from the witch of what the executions would be like, watching Melissa begin to burn as Token, Kylee, and Willow were hung one at a time, his Uncle Richard laughing in the background. His soul cried as his body quickened once more, her hips milking every drop.

  Then it was over and her body slid free.

  “See what I mean? So much better than torturing it out of you, and now I know everything,” the witch grinned at him. He hated her with every core of his being as he lay there naked, violated, exposed, and wished for control of his limbs so he could rip her apart. “Tsk, tsk, don’t be like that. You wouldn’t kill the mother of your unborn child, would you? Oh yes, my magic is strong and well-woven. Don’t worry, I’ll look after him. Too bad your son will never know what a worthless piece of crap his father had been. Maybe I’ll save your skull and let him play with it like one of those worthless toys you give your kids.”

  Her robes were sliding back on, her smile wicked as she exited the cell and relocked the door. Grinning, she turned to the two elves glaring at them across the way. “I see why you love him, he is rather young and vigorous,” she spat at Willow, who was staring daggers at her.

  “Goodbye for now, young father-to-be, I’ll be seeing you all real soon,” she cooed, then wiggled her fingers releasing his body back to his control. Instantly his hands dove for his clothes, yet flinched when her laughter echoed loudly against the dungeon’s walls.

  The witch departed slowly the way she came, singing some sick lullaby, but he tried to shut it out. What had just happened to him—.

  I’m so sorry, Melissa’s voice whispered to him as he pulled his pants back on and rolled over, sobbing.

  He couldn’t respond, his soul torn, body violated, mind raped. He had no words, no strength to continue on. Sobs ripped from his body as he placed his head under a pillow and wished for death.

  Chapter 6

  Gallows

  I

  John sat astride his mount, armor in place, sword held ready at his side. Tar Reiz nodded from his position before his knights and he nodded back. Over a hundred Guardians surrounded their King, Captain Reyes taking personal responsibility from his safety by refusing to leave his side; despite John’s admonishments that he would be better served staying behind. Even Bendor was on his cougar mount, a thick axe gripped in his stout hands.

  Brasten was remaining behind with a small contingent of men to defend the castle, the remaining of their forces having ridden out through the eastern gates and forming up to advance. Bendor gave last minute instructions to Roland and Thomas, Brigette armored and insisting on remaining at the dwarf’s side.

  Armor glinted in the afternoon sun as he turned his horse and faced the large force before him. He looked into the nearest soldier’s faces and saw the fierce loyalty in their welcoming expressions. Standards were raised, the colors of Griedlok, Forlorn, and Lancaster flapping in the wind. One of Bordin’s generals signaled that their forces were ready and he acknowledged it with a wave of his hand.

  King Bordin had wanted to fight with them, but John had refused. He needed his father-in-law to remain behind and protect his family should the unthinkable happen. Though the elf guessed it had more to do with his age, he had relented when Jenna had stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm, dragging him away.

  They had already said their goodbyes and he had given his son one last hug before setting out. This would not be the last time he saw them he had promised. Now it was time to see if he would be able to keep it.


  A small group of Guardians had made sure that any enemy scouts on the eastern side of the castle had been dispatched, but their absence would soon be noticed. If they wanted to keep the element of surprise, then they needed to get moving.

  There would be no speeches, no rousing call to arms. Any thundering or clamoring voices of so many would be hard to miss by the enemy. He wanted them to keep silent as long as possible, until it was too late for anything else.

  “We’re ready,” Bendor told him and he nodded at the veteran warrior. Though the dwarf had still argued against doing this, he had finally relented, and put everything he had to see that it was carried out as efficiently as possible.

  He raised his sword in a silent salute to his men and they raised their own in response. Turning his horse, he made sure his shield was in place, then lowered his weapon and started their advance.

  The soft thunder of feet followed him as they began their way forward. Elven druids jogged next to Tar Reiz, refusing to fight from horseback, and their faces showing their anxiousness at what was to come.

  Looking to his right, he saw Serix ride up next to him and nodded his head. “For better or worse, I’m by your side,” the mage told him in a whisper, barely heard over the shifting armor to their rear.

  Was that a good or bad thing? He still didn’t know for sure.

  Yet he acknowledged it and turned his face forward, searching the horizon for the enemy. They would be on open terrain soon, the end of the southern wall fast approaching. Hands tense, he tried to calm his nerves, but his adrenaline was pumping and his heart thundered with excitement. This was the first time he’d lead these men into battle as their King, he prayed it wouldn’t be the last.

  He couldn’t let doubt weigh him down, it would cause inaction and bad reflexes, so he pushed it away and tried to focus on the task at hand.

  As planned, when they reached the edge of the wall Bendor raised his axe and Griedlok’s troops began marching west. They would hit the western side of the army while his hit the eastern. They hoped that by dividing the enemy’s attention, they’d get further than a single thrust down the middle.

  Tar Reiz held up his sword as if to say goodbye, then led his men southeast, where they would sweep around the back and hit the army’s rear. The five hundred knights and twenty druids increased their speed and slowly rid from view.

  It was dangerous to divide their forces, yet he knew it was necessary to achieve the affect he wanted. He looked to his own cavalry and saw Roland nod, leading his men to protect the army’s flank. He had been ordered to hit and strike where they could, but to make sure that none of the enemy got in behind them.

  He pulled up on his reins; allowing the soldiers behind to pass. He had led them this far, and though he had wanted to lead the charge personally, his one concession to Bendor had been to take up position in the center of their forces. The dwarf nodded his approval and led his horse to the center of the formation, taking the lead.

  Growling under his breath, he waited for the majority of his men to pass before spurring his horse forward once more. The Guardians moved with him, Captain Reyes eyeing the horizon and listening for the enemy’s call to arms. Serix sat patiently at his side, eyes riveted on the army around him, in awe of the moment.

  It was a glorious sight and he couldn’t help but feel it himself. Pikemen led the vanguard, infantry in the middle with lines of archers interspaced, ready to begin firing when within range. The ruined city was beyond them now and the first of the enemy lines began sliding into view.

  A dark shape rose from the distant encampment and began winging its way towards them. He could vaguely see his dwarven general raise his axe once more and the horns around him began to sound. The ground thundered as five thousand feet rushed forward, weapons raised, voices bellowing their battle cries.

  “Lancaster!” he bellowed; sword raised high and kicking his horse forward at full gallop.

  Caught in the moment, he forgot his promise to the dwarven general as his mount pushed through the troops racing alongside. Forgotten was everything in the world but this moment, this frozen place in time where flesh would meet metal and the world’s destiny forever decided.

  Horns in the distance blew, but he raced forth regardless, Guardians fanning out to protect their King. The first of their troops drove into the enemy horde, their King not far behind. Blood thundering in his ears, sweat dripping down his face, he spurred his horse even faster and flung himself into the enemy lines.

  The Battle for Lancaster had begun.

  II

  Tristan barely felt it when the guards entered his cell and slammed shackles across his hands and feet. He was drug into a sitting position, his clothes repositioned on his body to better cover his exposed flesh. A hand slammed on the back of his neck, squeezing tightly and forcing him to his feet.

  Token growled next to him as the dwarf was forced awake and kicked forward into the hallway. The three women were similarly roused and his gaze fell upon his girlfriend, the broken beaten heart of his, softly thudding when their eyes met. Sorry and dread filled her eyes, her face swollen from her tears. She mouthed that she loved him, but he could not answer her; his mind broken.

  Eleven guards led their prisoners forward, chains clinking as they began mounting the steps. Melissa was in the lead, Token behind her, Willow at his side and Kylee to the rear. Weapons were unsheathed and held ready if they resisted, yet he found that he lacked the spirit to do so. His mind had been violated, his spirit crushed. There was no more will within to fight; he was resigned to his fate.

  As they left their prison they faced a very large angry crowd of peasants. They wore rags, their faces dirty, nasty grins upon their faces. Vegetables began to fly and he felt an onion impact his right temple. Staggering, he lost his footing and tumbled to the ground. The air was kicked out of him by a guard’s foot and his stomach clenched in agony. Willow’s hands found him, pulling him back up, but someone hit her in the back and drove her forward and free of him.

  He was distant, detached from his body as he stumbled along behind her. Tomatoes and lettuce were flung at them, as was the occasional rock. Kylee suffered a blow to the head, her cheek sliced open by a projectile whipping past. Laughter erupted from the men around them as they slowly made their way to the gallows steps.

  A platform had been built on the right and his eyes slowly turned that way, flinching as another vegetable knocked him sideways after hitting his shoulder. He didn’t feel it, his mind long past caring what happened to him. Selena stood staring down at him and he felt that hot rage of what she’d done suddenly rush through him. Clenching his hands, he prayed for a sword and a chance to get at the bitch, but the guards were closing ranks as they approached their destination, and he was forced to walk underneath her horrible wretched smile.

  A step at a time, they walked up the gallows to their oncoming deaths—all but one.

  Melissa was led to a large pyre that had been placed in the center of the square. The crowd ringed it and were cursing the prisoner being flung their way. At the final step, he was forced to stop as the other three were led along the gallows where the three nooses swayed in an angry wind. Forced to his knees, he had a clear view of everything, and his heart wept for what was about to happen.

  Nooses were fitted around Token, Kylee, and Willow’s heads as Melissa was thrown against the pyre, rope encircling her writhing body as the witch struggled to get free. His eyes looked from Melissa to Willow, her face towards his, her eyes saying everything that he wanted to say himself. He silently apologized to her, his love trying to soothe her terrified face. None of it mattered; they’d soon be reunited in the afterlife. Then they’d be together forever.

  “Citizens of Kershaw!” he heard a croaky voice holler from behind him. His uncle had risen from his wooden throne and was calling for the crowd’s silence. It abated some, yet stones and vegetables still soared through the air, hatred following their tormentor’s projectiles.

  “Toda
y we execute traitors and agents of the Phoenix!” Richard bellowed and Tristan felt like standing up and contradicting him, but to what end? What difference would it make?

  The crowd roared and fresh curses were flung at them.

  “A witch of enormous power has tried to infiltrate our castle and assassinate me! For that, she is hereby ordered to be burned at the stake!” his uncle lied, his voice booming over the roaring crowd. People spat at the tied-up woman, Melissa’s face no longer calm, but filled with stark terror.

  “She planned to replace me with a pretender to the throne, the son of my ungrateful conniving brother!” People began to boo him, but he didn’t care. Just let it be over already. “These two elves and dwarf are companions of this traitorous assassin and one of them carries his half-breed bastard child! Now, people of Kershaw, what is the sentence for befouling our race and mixing with these unholy vermin?”

  A clamor rose from the intensifying crowd as it roared for their deaths, disgust on every face, teeth barred, hands clenching in rage. He looked to Willow once more and saw tears sliding down the side of her face. If only he could get to her. His knees would not move; his body unwilling to try. His heart cracked further as his uncle continued on.

  “For their actions, the sentence of death has been decreed and so ordered. How say you all?” his uncle asked, but didn’t need to worry about their answer.

  Now the crowd was ready to tear up there and rip them apart themselves, their bloodthirsty eyes begging for the chance. Guards surrounded the gallows or they might have gotten it.

  He turned to look at the King, his uncle, and the unbridled hatred in his eyes only made the other man laugh. Selena was smiling by his side, a hand rubbing her stomach. If only—