Crimson's Captivation

by Melange Books, LLC

  “It does not. I love Crimson no matter what.”

  “Are you sure?” Sena demanded.

  “I am, Sena. She’s my love, and my love has deepened since she slipped away.”

  Sena released the young man, but kept her knee in his back. “Very well, we have work to do. We shall test the depths of your love, Viktor. We shall parade your affection through hell and see if it’s strong enough to survive.”

  Viktor stood and collected his pike. “Release him. I’m ready to rescue my girl.”

  * * * *

  Later the next morning, Kieran and Caspian arrived at Tor’s palace at the request of Tor’s dispatched letter. The letter didn’t allude to the fact that one captive was dead, one had turned, one had run away, and one was in a deep sleep near death. Kieran grasped Tor’s elbow and led him toward the courtyard.

  “This is a mess. Which servant escaped?” Kieran asked Tor.

  “Sergen, the big one. He has taken my daughter with him.”

  “When?”

  “Sometime during this last night. I checked the stables before you arrived. They left on horseback.”

  “I see. I will have Caspian search for your escapee and your daughter. Sergen is not from this area, so he will follow your daughter’s lead. Where might she go?”

  Tor thought for a moment. “I doubt she would head north—too much war and she knows the danger. She would head south toward Odessa.”

  “Very well. I would like to see your daughter’s bedroom,” Kieran said as he and Tor walked back into the main foyer. “Caspian!” Kieran shouted.

  Caspian appeared as a silent mist and he startled Tor. “Yes, my brother.”

  “I’ve told you not to do that around the mortals. Follow me. I have a mission for you.”

  Kieran immediately recognized Crimson. She lay on Darya’s bed, her breaths were shallow and her stomach barely rose. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and closed his eyes. He had thought of Crimson, but not like this. She looked helpless. “She’s alive, but just. What happened?”

  “I think she poisoned herself with the yew tree,” Tor answered from the doorway.

  Kieran released her arm, leaned in and smelled her breath. “Yes, the sweetness on her breath confirms your suspicion. Instruct your caretakers to flush her with fluids. She may make it.” Kieran then went to the chair next to the bed and picked up a nightgown. “Is this your daughter’s?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  Kieran motioned for Caspian and gave him the gown. “This is his daughter’s scent. She’s heading south and using gold and silver as trade. Find her and the escapee she ran off with.”

  Caspian brought Darya’s nightgown to his nose and inhaled her scent. He smiled as he inhaled her sweat and bath oils. “Smells like honey,” he said under his breath.

  Kieran recognized Caspian’s crazed look. He grabbed Caspian by the arm. “And Caspian, she is not to be harmed, am I understood? Not a scratch. Not even a kiss or a careless touch.”

  Caspian sulked. “Yes, and the escapee?”

  “Do what you must.”

  Caspian relished the thought, took one final inhale of the nightgown, and faded into a fog that moved toward the window where he disappeared.

  “You’ll have to excuse my brother,” Kieran said. “He’s a bit of a show off. He doesn’t understand the business of our family.”

  “Will he find my daughter?” Tor asked.

  “He already has,” Kieran responded as he walked back toward Crimson. “He already has.”

  “Then no apology needed,” Tor said as he exited the room.

  * * * *

  Caspian easily found the scent of Darya outside the palace and covered ground with amazing speed. As he got closer to her, the scent became fresher and stronger, almost pulling him toward her.

  Two towns to the south, her scent literally emptied out of an inn and although it was strong, it mixed with the other humans in the inn and the nearby tavern, which made it difficult to pinpoint her location.

  His first thought was to slip into the Inn as a mist, and then suddenly appear among the crowd and scare everyone off, but he thought better of it. Scents linger. He pushed open the door and walked up to the innkeeper who was cleaning his desk. “I’m looking for a young girl?”

  “You’re in the wrong place. You want the bordello down the street.”

  Caspian forced himself not to smile. “No, a young girl and a large man are here. They would’ve paid in gold or silver.”

  “I see,” the innkeeper coyly replied. “Is she yours?”

  “Yes,” Caspian lied.

  “Too bad. Very pretty maiden and the man she’s with is far bigger than you, far stronger, too.”

  “Let me worry about that,” Caspian said with a tinge of anger.

  “Are you a fool?”

  “No.”

  “Hmm,” the innkeeper mumbled. “Normally, I wouldn’t give out such information, but since you’re not a fool and only a fool would approach that man, then no harm.” A sneer of delight stretched across the innkeeper’s face. “They’re upstairs in room three.”

  Caspian reached into his pocket and flipped the innkeeper a copper coin. “Wait here, old man. I’ll be back down with the girl in no time.”

  “Young man …”

  “Yes?”

  “Room three is called the lover’s room.” The innkeeper laughed out loud and returned to his chore of cleaning his desk.

  Caspian found room three upstairs and stood outside the doorway. When he was sure no one was looking, he turned to mist and slipped under the door. On the other side, he wandered to the corner of the room and retook his normal form. He saw Darya lying in bed. She was asleep with the bed covers only covering her legs. Her breasts were exposed and her breaths were deep and content.

  Caspian walked to the side of the bed, where he stood over her and admired her beauty. He leaned toward her, took in her scent with a deep inhale, and noticed the satchel of gold and silver on the floor. He was certain that he had found his mark.

  Just then, Sergen entered the room holding apples and pears and saw the stranger standing over Darya. He dropped the fruit, rushed Caspian, and caught him off guard. The two tumbled over Darya and crashed into the wall on the other side of the bed.

  Darya awakened. It took a moment or two for her to realize what was happening and then she let out a blood-curdling scream. Sergen had Caspian pinned to the floor and as long as Caspian was in the grasp of another, he couldn’t turn to mist. Caspian struggled to escape, but Sergen would not let go and Caspian took two heavy blows to the side of his face. The first punch broke Caspian’s nose. The second punch was perfectly placed and knocked him out.

  There were pounds at the door and Sergen yelled to Darya, “Don’t answer that door!” He ripped the curtain from the window with plans to use the fabric to tie the stranger’s hands, but when the sunlight landed on the stranger’s exposed skin, its skin bubbled and scorched and filled the room with a smell of burning flesh.

  “I need a stake!” Sergen yelled.

  “A stake?” Darya asked as she pressed her back against the headboard. Everything was happening so fast that she didn’t know how to react.

  “This is no man. He’s a shadow!” Sergen shouted. Sergen grabbed the bedpost, it wasn’t sharpened, but it would have to do. He ripped the bedpost from the frame and let the bed collapse to the floor. He stood over the stranger, held the wooded stake above his head, and rammed down with such force that the stake went through Caspian’s chest and embedded in the wooden timber floor beneath.

  Darya screamed again. Then everything was quiet. All she could hear was Sergen’s heavy breathing. She peered over the edge of the bed to look at the body. “Is he dead?”

  “Yes,” Sergen responded as he sat on the edge of the collapsed bed.

  “Who was he?”

  “A hunter from the auction house. We mustn’t move south anymore. We should head west toward France. Get dressed.”
>
  Darya inched toward Sergen from behind and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. She kissed him on the back of the neck. “France,” she whispered. “Why didn’t I think of that?” She reached between his legs. “Are you sure you want me to get dressed?”

  Sergen stood and made his way to the door. He opened it and scared the other patrons away. He returned to Darya, kissed her full on the mouth, and said, “France isn’t going anywhere, but let’s at least get another room.”

  Sergen went downstairs and found the innkeeper all smiles. “I require another room.”

  “Of course,” the innkeeper said. “I told him not to mess with you.”

  Sergen grasped the innkeeper’s throat and pulled him closer, almost lifting him off his feet. “If another looks for me and I even have the sense that you gave information, I will kill you. Am I understood?”

  The innkeeper could only nod. Sergen let him go and the innkeeper fell into his chair. He rubbed his throat and coughed out, “Pick any room. I don’t want to know which one.”

  Sergen and Darya went to a nearby room where they made love. When they were leaving the inn, Sergen made it a point to state they were heading north within earshot of the innkeeper.

  Outside, Darya asked, “North? I thought we were heading to France, my love?”

  Sergen smiled and lifted her onto her horse. “We are.”

  Chapter VII

  ~ Kiev and Risqué Tales ~

  Viktor struggled with his choices. He wanted to head south toward Kiev, but he also wanted to head west to meet up with King Charles and his men. “Sena, what can you tell me of Kiev?”

  “Only that I’ve escaped and that Tor’s palace is most likely crawling with hunters.”

  “Hunters?” the young soldier asked.

  “Yes. The auction house will dispatch hunters to find captives that have escaped.” Sena showed the three men the mark on her inner left wrist. “I belong to Tor.”

  Viktor studied the branding. “Does Crimson have one, too?”

  “She does.”

  “How many men?”

  “These aren’t men, young prince.”

  “How many?”

  “Maybe one. Maybe ten. I suspect the strongest of the hunters will be there. Kieran and Caspian are to be especially feared.”

  Viktor recognized the name. “Caspian? I know this creature. Ran across his path in Sweden. Why would Kieran be at Tor’s?”

  Sena stopped in mid-stride before she answered. “Kieran? He’s Caspian’s big brother. Also, you may as well know, Kieran has an affection for Crimson.”

  Viktor frowned at Sena’s suggestion. “Sena, if you were in my position, what would you do?”

  Sena smiled from the bow of a tree above the three men. “I? All the king’s horses and all the king’s men. But it does not matter what I think. I will fight Kieran regardless.”

  “You will? Why?”

  “Someone must.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Viktor said. “We shall join with King Charles and make our way toward Kiev.”

  “Wise choice,” Sena shouted from a high bow in a far away tree. “Wise choice!”

  They traveled west the remaining portion of the day, camped that night, and early the next morning they found themselves near the town of Koknese. According to the letter from King Charles, he and his nearly one hundred men would be camped between the small town and the Daugava River. Viktor ordered his men to ride abreast of him at the distance of earshot while they searched in a grid pattern.

  “Shouldn’t be hard to find a camp of one hundred men in such a lightly populated area,” the young soldier suggested, and Viktor agreed.

  An hour later, the young soldier came upon a camp, but from a distance, it looked small, maybe ten men or less. He thought of circling wide to avoid the camp, thinking they were most likely a roving band of marauders or local hunters from the nearby town. But he followed orders and made the loud turkey call as agreed to. Viktor found the young soldier first and they waited for the other soldier and Sena.

  When the rest of the party arrived, Viktor dismounted and walked his horse toward the camp. The closer he got, the more convinced he was that this couldn’t possibly be the king’s camp. There just weren’t enough soldiers.

  Viktor shouted when he was near the perimeter of the camp and he heard the bustle of men moving. Suddenly, a soldier appeared in front of him.

  “Who are you?” The red headed soldier demanded as he pointed his silver tipped pike at Viktor’s chest.

  “Who are you?” Viktor retorted.

  The two men stood there for several seconds without saying a word. Then King Charles appeared on the path behind his commander. “It’s okay, commander. He’s Viktor.”

  Viktor’s face lit up with a smile. “My king,” he started, “it is an honor.” And Viktor bowed to one knee.

  “The honor is mine, young Viktor.”

  Viktor rose and made the loud turkey call and his two soldiers met up with him. They, too, bowed to the king. Viktor pulled a letter from the satchel on his horse and approached the king. “Sir, I have news from Commander Karl Rehnschiöld.”

  The king read the letter and frowned.

  “What is it?” the king’s commander asked.

  King Charles folder the letter and stuffed it into this coat pocket. “It appears since our victory in Narva, little ground has been gained.” The king’s frustration etched across his face. “We need to rescue Crimson and make our way back to Riga as quickly as possible. We should move.”

  “Sir,” the commander began, “we should forget this rescue. We only have nine men between us. It is madness to head further into enemy lands.”

  “We have one other,” Viktor said. “Sena!”

  Sena was stealthy above them in the tip-top of the tree. She skillfully landed on the branch above them. Her sudden appearance startled the king and his men, and the king’s men rushed her with their pikes, but Sena scampered up the tree to safety.

  “That is Sena. She’s with us and she knows where Crimson is.”

  “Yes, she’s in Minsk. Held hostage by someone named Gaten or Kieran,” the king said as he turned and began to walk back toward his camp.

  Viktor and his men followed. “I’m afraid not, King. She is further south.”

  “How far south?” the king’s commander asked.

  “Kiev!” Sena shouted from above.

  Sena’s revelation knocked the wind out of the king’s men. They stopped and looked at each other as if the word ‘Kiev’ was Swedish for impending doom.

  “Kiev?” the king questioned aloud. He grabbed Viktor’s arm and pulled him in. “You trust this creature?” he whispered. “How do you know she’s not leading us into a trap?”

  “I do trust her, sir,” Viktor replied. “She and Crimson were kidnapped by the same person and sold to Tor in some imperial palace near Kiev. Her revenge is with Kieran, not us.”

  The king sat on a log near the campfire and warmed his hands over the last remaining embers. He was silent as he thought. He knew the rescue of his sister, even if she were only his half-sister, was noble, but he had lost many men just to make it this far. His commander was right about Kiev; it was in the depths of enemy hands. The news from Rehnschiöld troubled him the most. His army should be well into Russia by now or marching deep into the south.

  No one said a word as they waited for the king to make a decision. The king stood and asked to speak with Sena, alone.

  Sena bravely jumped from the tree and joined the king on the far side of the camp. “Sena, you are a creature, correct?” the king asked.

  “Yes, by choice.”

  “And it’s safe to assume you and Crimson were forced …” The king stopped in mid sentence as he tried to delicately broach the subject.

  Sena sensed his unease and interjected. “King, it’s far worse than what you’re imagining. But, yes, we were forced and drugged and marked. We were sold as slaves.”

  “I see,” th
e king said. “My sister, Sophia, mentioned this, but to be honest, I thought they were risqué stories the ladies of her court shared.”

  Sena sighed. “Some stories, sir, are easy to tell, but much harder to live.”

  The king nodded in understanding. “Very well. We shall tear into Poland and rescue my sister. Promise me one thing, Sena.”

  “Yes?”

  “If I fall, promise me you will fight to the death to kill this Kieran.”

  “It shall be my pleasure.”

  “Commander!” the king yelled. “Prepare to move. We head toward Kiev!”

  * * * *

  On the second day at Tor’s palace, Kieran having not heard from his brother, set out to find him. Two towns to the south, he came upon the inn and entered. He didn’t have to ask, he could sense that his brother had been killed here, and in the parlor of the inn he let out a scream that echoed across all of Poland.

  Kieran approached the innkeeper, who was hiding behind his desk. “Innkeeper! My brother’s killer, which direction did he go?”

  “Who?” the innkeeper tested among chattering teeth as he cowered into a ball.

  Kieran, in a fit of rage, tossed the innkeeper’s desk across the room. He knelt and grabbed the innkeeper by the throat and lifted him into the air. “Once more, fool. What direction did he go?”

  “To the north,” the innkeeper managed to get out. “To the north.”

  Kieran studied the innkeeper’s eyes. He was telling the truth, but the truth didn’t stop Kieran from snapping his neck in two.

  Chapter VIII

  ~ Love Survives All ~

  Several days later, King Charles, Viktor, and Sena arrived on the outskirts of Kiev. There had been a number of close calls on the trip south. Several enemy soldiers died at the hands of Sena and she proved to be an excellent guide. They had only lost one soldier during the trip.

  The king and Viktor’s men had the sense they would not make it back to the safety of their fellow legion of army men, or Sweden, for that matter. But they were in good spirits after having learned that their mission was to bring down a system of slavery that plagued their women.