The SAVAGE Series, Books 1-3: The Pearl Savage, The Savage Blood and The Savage Principle

by Blodgett, Tamara Rose

  The group rounded the corner and Clara's heart fell to her feet: it was Prince Frederic and his royal guard.

  ****

  Bracus and the others lined up at the swell of the hill where the forest met the open valley below, quivers filled and riding high on their muscular backs, the bows strung to their sides.

  It was some distance but he thought he could make out the tunnel which led from the main sphere. The place that the sphere-dwellers used to trade goods with one another and travel.

  Philip turned to him. “Why do we go here? Should we not acquire her at her chamber? That is where you have seen her before.” he said, his face set in puzzled hard angles.

  Bracus shook his head. “No, we enter at the place that has the least of them.” He pointed to a point one-third from where the main body of the sphere met the travel tunnel, steam escaping in lazy spirals. “We will infiltrate here,” he unsheathed an arrow, pointing to a place that bowed out slightly from the tunnel.

  Matthew summarized the plan, “We will enter there, retrace our steps, overtake their lone guard and enter the main body.”

  Bracus nodded.

  Stephen said, “We may meet resistance on our approach.”

  “Yes,” Joseph said. “But, Bracus has said we will escape from her chamber, and they would be reluctant to follow; too busy with filling the hole we have created.” He held up his flask with the salt mixture that each Band member had. Things may occur out of the scope of their expectations, better to be prepared.

  Joseph was of sound mind. They all were.

  Bracus nodded, time to be about it. The Band carefully looked about them and Bracus gave the special call. The war call.

  The shrill, ringing tone carried along atop the light breeze like music on the wind.

  CHAPTER 21

  “Well, well... my little Princess and her friend are here, how convenient for me,” Prince Frederic said, a knowing smile overtaking his face.

  Charles pulled Clara behind him with a firm hand on her wrist.

  Clara told herself that they were doing nothing wrong, that the Prince knew what they were about. That she had told him they traveled this day for trading with the Kingdom of West Virginia. But his face... his face told a different tale... and she knew not what it was.

  “Did you think I was so stupid that I would not check on your plans? Your travel plans with this fool,” he said in a furious voice that shook with rage, sparing a glance at Charles, who stiffened.

  Clara tried to step around Charles to address the prince, but Charles said, “Do not.”

  “Prince Frederic, you knew of the Princess's plans to trade this day, what has provoked your ire?” Clara bunched her hand in the fabric of Charles' blouse, the heat of his body seeping into hands that had grown cold.

  “We left a sentry behind,” Prince Frederic said as explanation.

  Clara's thoughts turned to Clarence. One of the Prince's guard must have come upon Clarence...

  Clara, once so adept at containing her expression had allowed some of what she was feeling to show on her face.

  The Prince smiled. “I see by your expression you understand what I mean. Search them,” waving a dismissive hand in their direction.

  The salt.

  Charles thoughts raced, how could he extradite them from this now? Obviously, the sentry had come upon Clarence and communicated this to the Prince. And although he may not know exactly their plan, he must assume it did not include him or the kingdom that Frederic coveted.

  Prince Frederic had four guards with him, all of similar size to Charles, he noted with grim uneasiness.

  He must protect Clara at all costs.

  Charles gave over the knapsack to the guard, the hilt of a hidden dirk lay at the small of his back, the element of surprise may be enough. He had been in training these many years to eventually be in the royal guard, he would need every ounce of that training now.

  ****

  Prince Frederic approached Clara slowly, a shark testing the waters, and she stayed behind Charles, the guards busy ransacking their things.

  One of the guards lifted the flask, opening it, he gave it a whiff, moving his palm back and forth over the top, smelling the contents.

  He lifted his head. “Salt, Your Highness.”

  Prince Frederic came very near Charles and Clara, Charles eyes following each step. “Now what, pray tell, might you want with salt? Diluted salt at that?” he said, eyes narrowing.

  “To breach the sphere is to be executed, you are aware, Princess.”

  He looked her over very carefully, taking in her royal attire, her crown, the vestiges of which lay awkwardly upon her.

  “Very wise to wear your proper royal garb. But it will not save you, for I know what you are about. Your costume did not fool me.”

  And with that, he reached his hand out, wrapping it around Clara's wrist, moving the bones together within the steel band of his grip as Charles shouted, “No!” at the same time releasing her other wrist, Charles smashed the flat of his palm in the Prince's face, and blood sprayed in a graceless arc.

  He did not hesitate, grabbing the dirk from the small of his back, slashing in a tight, backhanded arc toward the neck of the closest guard at the same time the other guard grabbed his free arm. The first guard lay dying upon the ground, his mortal wound spilling his lifeblood upon the dirt floor of the tunnel. While Charles grappled with the guard who lay hold of his weaponless arm and buried the dirk in his upper chest. Staggering back, hand on the hilt, the guard gave a surprised, wide-eyed glance at Charles, who dismissed him. His full attention on the remaining two guards and now he was without the dirk.

  “I think we shall have some sport. Guards, detain this man and make him watch while I teach my betrothed the lessons herein.”

  Clara struggled in earnest then, knowing the beating she had suffered would pale in comparison to what she was afraid he meant.

  Frederic shoved Clara down to the dirt floor, where she landed on her back, the wind whooshing from her lungs. She struggled to get up, the stays in the corset like unyielding bones which stymied her progress.

  He slapped her so hard across her face that her vision dimmed and in her head swelled an impenetrable fog. She was vaguely aware of Charles struggling with the other guards, even so far as to hear the meaty sounds of his fist connecting with their flesh. But the prince was a distraction as he lay atop her, lifting the hem of her dress to her knees, trying to work it higher.

  He meant to rape her, with Charles as witness.

  Clara bucked and fought.

  He struck her again, pinning her wrists above her head with one of his hands, unlacing his breeches with the other and Clara lost all semblance of sanity, screaming wildly for Charles.

  ****

  “Did you hear that?” Matthew asked the others.

  Bracus nodded, changing his speed from jogging to sprinting. They moved toward the sphere tunnel as a lethal wall of menace, throat slits fully open, deep red slashes of flesh against their throats. Arriving outside the slightly bulbous outcropping of the sphere tunnel, they were not able to believe the sight which greeted them.

  Bracus' breath caught in his lungs, prisoner. A man lay atop the Princess, undoing his breeches with one hand while she screamed for someone and struggled to free herself. But even Bracus could see she was no match for the one that rode her, a male of similar size to some of the smaller Band members.

  Philip growled low in his throat, “Gather the flasks!”

  Bracus nodded, shouting, “All of them, throw everything on my command...”

  “Now!” Bracus' shout penetrated the interior of the sphere.

  ****

  Charles was prone on all fours surviving a well-placed kick to the ribs, still crawling to help Clara when she screamed for him, the plea a stab to his heart, the abhorrent prince trying to have his way with her. He must reach her, he thought, when he heard a powerful yell from Outside.

  Prince Frederic froze on top of C
lara, his undergarment a thin barrier between himself the Princess and what he wished to defile. Looking over the top of her head he saw men. Huge men, like the rumored Vikings of his ancestry. The gills in their necks like slashes from a knife, opening and closing with their breathing.

  Charles and the guards were transfixed when water hit the sphere and a moment passed with the liquid cascading down the outside, hissing and smoking. A tear formed and the fresh air of the Outside reached their lungs for the first time.

  Clara was in a dim fog, her dress about her hips, the Prince poised above her when a foot connected with his jaw and he flew several feet away from her. She lay stunned, a dull ache rooting her shoulders to the awkward position above her head as she watched the scene unfold.

  Huge men flooded into the confines of the tunnel, working without mercy on the remaining guards, slitting both their throats and dumping their bodies to the ground like garbage. The one who lay on his back, hilt sticking out of his chest like an exclamation point breathed shallowly while one guard came upon him, twisting the hilt while he screamed in agony. Finally, he removed it and slit that guard's throat, turning his head to look at Clara while simultaneously wiping the bloodied blade on the guard's clothing. It was him, Clara thought with a shudder, the savage who frightened her.

  He gave her a grim smile and walked toward where she lay. Her breath coming in large gasps, she was frozen to the ground, unable to move. She would die here, in this tunnel, surrounded by savages on the dirt floor of the tunnel.

  She craned her neck, her vision swimming and saw Charles being approached by two savages, their thick thigh muscles bunching as they squatted in front of him, a battered heap before them.

  She screamed, not caring for her own safety but thinking only of him, “Spare him! He is my friend... please, spare him...” she cried in a pathetic whisper, her eyes swimming through a wash of tears.

  A fierce face loomed in front of her vision and it was he... the savage she had seen through the sphere wall, the one which looked upon her with tenderness, as he did now.

  “Fear not, Princess, no harm will come to you,” Bracus said while lowering her arms down to her sides and lowering her dress. His expression was one of contained rage as his gaze wandered to Frederic, who lay unconscious beside her.

  Her head swiveled back to Charles, the two savages kneeling beside him, awaiting the command of their leader. Her eyes met Charles' and he hung his head, realizing that their fate was in the hands of the savages.

  Bracus looked down at the Princess and the black spot in his heart spread like ink spilled as he looked upon her injuries, which led his gaze to the large male who lay breathing a few feet away. He knew in his guts that this was the male that had done the first abuse. The other, who lay on the ground near Stephen and Joseph, looked as though he had defended her.

  “Bracus,” Philip said, staring down at him but his eyes strayed to the Princess.

  “We must go. Let us dispatch these two and take our leave, quickly, before more arrive.” He cast studious glances around them.

  Clara lifted a trembling arm, shaking from lack of blood circulation and laid it on Bracus' forearm, her touch light as a feather.

  He looked down at the small hand, fascinated by its size, this female was killing him, but his expression remained stoic.

  The Princess said, “Please, I beg you, do not harm him, he is my dearest friend. Take me and leave him, please.”

  “Clara no! You know not what their intent is!” he shouted, trying to get to his feet, but the guards held him in position.

  “Do not harm her! She has done nothing,” Charles said to the group at large.

  To which Matthew replied, “That is not our intent, sphere-dweller.”

  Charles and Clara both heard the note of disdain in his voice and he looked at them as if insulted that they would think he would harm the female which lay vulnerable and injured at their feet.

  Stephen looked down at Charles. “It was our plan to take her, not you. It was happenstance that you were here... and the others,” he shrugged. Like their death had been collateral damage and not of great importance.

  Bracus knew that time was short. He stood, and bending over he hauled the Princess to her feet.

  Clara was suddenly on her feet and up from her horrible position on the ground, but the movement had been too fast and she swayed, feeling overcome physically with all that had transpired. As she felt her vision narrowing, her body filled up with heat. It began at her feet and rushed to her head, she knew she would faint.

  “No you don't, Princess,” the savage said, swooping her right off the ground. Clara wasn't sure this was an improvement as her face lulled against his huge chest and his arms folded her into his body as if she were the size of a child. To him, she probably was.

  “Do not take her!” Charles yelled, struggling against the guards and Bracus gave Stephen a terse nod and he slammed his fist into Charles temple, his body slumping to the floor in a heap.

  “No!” Clara screamed, struggling in the grip of the savage, but to no avail, he had terrible strength and stood immune to her movements.

  Suddenly, the savage that she did not trust was in her face. “Be still. You needed the rescuing from what we saw.”

  Clara cringed back from him in fear and Bracus' eyes narrowed. Her response did not make sense. Why was she so afraid?

  “Cease this; we mean you no harm,” Bracus told her.

  She stopped and looked up into Bracus' face, his intense hazel eyes warm with sincerity and it was all too much.

  Clara fainted.

  CHAPTER 22

  Bracus looked down at the still form of the Princess and couldn't believe she was finally in his arms. He checked his expression to escape notice. She lay so light in his embrace. A fragile thing. He hugged her tighter to him and her head rolled against his chest.

  He looked over at the large male with yellow hair who still lived, rage shimmering within Bracus. Killing him now would be best.

  He looked at Philip who nodded and prepared to land the killing blow but Stephen interrupted, “Do not.” Philip's hand hesitated, hovering over his breastbone. “He looks to be someone of importance.”

  They took in his regal attire, heavy gold rings and thin band which lay atop his head.

  Bracus made a noise in the back of his throat, he was a loathsome man. “He does not deserve to live.”

  “I agree. But, if we wish for our negotiations to move forward, killing a person of importance may not assist our cause,” Stephen said.

  He was right, but there was something primitive in Bracus that wished to end the life of he who had laid violence against the Princess.

  He wavered.

  Finally, he walked over to him and ground his heel into his groin with crushing force. A low moan escaped Prince Frederic.

  Bracus smiled, that had felt good.

  The Band laughed. It would be some time before he tried to take a female by force.

  The Band silently made their way out of the tear in the sphere wall.

  Joseph turned around once they were out, calling out to the Band, “Look upon it,” he said, pointing to the slit.

  They watched it begin to repair itself. The Evil Ones had thought of a contingency for a sphere breach. They wished not for an intermingling of the two Peoples. Well... Bracus thought... they would have a surprise.

  The Band closed in around him and kept their senses alert for intruders from other clans or the fragment.

  *

  They reached the forest border, relief washing over Bracus.

  They came upon their horses and with the evening meal almost upon them they found a mossy area by the stream and lay the Princess down upon it. She barely stirred. Bracus did not like the deep shadows that lay beneath her eyes and the paleness of her face. He brought out his knapsack and rifled through it until he came upon a blanket, the one he had chosen especially for its tightly woven properties. He laid it over her. As it was made for h
im, he was able to take the excessive length and use part of it to bundle up as a makeshift pillow.

  The Band drew together and looked down upon her.

  Stephen spoke first, “She looks weak.”

  “She is, dolt,” Philip said, frowning at him, massive hands planted on his hips.

  “It would be interesting to find out what her intentions were this day. Where were they going? Were they traveling with that guard?” Joseph reasoned out loud.

  Bracus shook his head. “I do not think so. Did you notice the one that was committing violence against her? Their clothing was different. They are not from her home sphere.”

  Bracus watched the slight rise and fall of her chest, having never laid eyes on a woman this small, she was very close in stature to the young Evelyn who tended the well. But how brave she had been! With huge, strange males all around, she had pleaded for the life of her friend. He looked more closely at her. She wore the strange clothes again and a bejeweled crown sat upon her head. He shook his head, the mystery of it all deepening.

  “So frail,” Matthew said, bending down close to her still form he picked up her hand, the full size of it taking up only his palm, his fingers free of it.

  “Don't touch her,” Bracus spoke to Matthew in a low, clear voice.

  Matthew looked at him, carefully putting Clara's hand down where it had been, his eyebrows raising as he straightened to his full height.

  “Why, Captain?”

  Bracus realized his mistake too late. He did not want any male touching her. “I do not wish her to awaken and find your ugly mug above her.”

  The Band laughed at the joke and the tenseness left like water through netting.

  Philip clapped Matthew on the back. “Come, let us find food. It has been a long day, and I, for one, wish to end it with a full belly and the stars above me.”

  Bracus chose Joseph to watch over Clara, instructing him to give the alert if she awoke. He nodded solemnly. He understood better than the others because he wished for Anna to love him. In turn, he may be more careful with this new female.