The Dothan Chronicles: The Complete Trilogy

by Charissa Dufour

  “Get them mounted,” ordered Pelor as he climbed into his own saddle.

  It was easy for Bethany to mount her little donkey, despite her hands being bound behind her back. Erin, on the other hand, endure a hard and painful process to get onto Éimhin’s tall back. Bethany cringed with each groan that escaped Erin’s pursed lips.

  By the time he was in place on Éimhin’s back, he was moaning softly while sweat dripped off his face.

  “Please, Pelor. Let me treat him. I won’t cause problems. I promise.”

  “Your promises mean nothing to me. Gag them,” he added when she opened her mouth to respond.

  A second later, one of the men shoved a dirty strip of cloth into her mouth and tied it behind her head. They did the same to the scarred knight, though he didn’t seem to mind the treatment. He was drooping on Éimhin’s back, while the horse pranced in place and jerked its head up and down. The perceptive animal was growing agitated.

  Bethany wanted to sooth him, she wanted to fix Erin’s injured arm, and generally save the day, but how could she with her hands tied behind her back?

  The locals handed the leads to Éimhin and Dinner up to Pelor, who tied them to his saddle.

  “My thanks, gentleman. You have served Wolfric well and I will be sure he hears of your good deeds.”

  With this final statement, Pelor urged his horse into motion and there was nothing for them but to follow along.

  Cal sat slumped on Éimhin’s back. His shoulder throbbed with each jarring step of his horse. He looked down at Bethany, ignoring the stiffness in his neck. She looked tired. He could see tear streaks through the grime on her face. He couldn’t blame her. They were going the wrong way, away from her home, and he had no idea how to get out of the situation, hurt as he was.

  When Cal was just beginning to drift into an uneasy doze, their captor pulled his horse to a stop next to a shallow stream.

  “We’ll stop here,” he announced before dismounting and tying his horse to a nearby tree. “Well… get down!”

  Bethany managed to slip off Dinner’s back with her hands tied behind her back. Cal looked down at her, his eyes drooping with fatigue and pain. Pelor removed their gags, and they stretched out their aching jaws.

  “Sir Pelor, Erin needs help dismounting.”

  “Then help him.”

  Bethany ground her teeth together. Their captor was tugging on the very end of her patience. In different circumstances, Cal would have enjoyed her struggles to maintain her calm control.

  “Will you untie my hands?” she asked calmly.

  “Nope.”

  “It’s okay, Bethany. I can manage,” Cal whispered.

  “First name basis, eh?” asked the other man.

  Cal grimaced as he leaned against Éimhin’s neck, pulled a leg over the horse’s rump, and slid to the ground. His knees nearly gave out and he had lean against the animal’s side for a second until the red-hot pain in his shoulder subsided slightly.

  “C’mon you two. Up against the tree,” Pelor ordered, withdrawing a long dagger when they didn’t immediately move.

  Cal nodded to Bethany to precede him to the designated tree. He would do whatever he could to stay between this man and Bethany, even if they did know each other from her days in Dothan.

  “Pelor, please let me see to his arm. You have my word, I will not try to escape. Just let me fix his arm.”

  “Your word means nothing to me. Now up against the tree.”

  “But he’s in pain. There’s no reason to torture him like this. You can tie him to the tree while I do it.”

  “And you?”

  “Tie a rope around my neck…”

  “No!” snapped Cal, her last words penetrating the haze of his pain. Was she crazy?

  “It’s okay,” she said soothingly.

  Cal glanced at the other man and watched him think through his options.

  “Fine,” he finally said. “Knight, sit down against the tree. Princess, come here.”

  Cal ground his teeth together as he slid to the ground against the tree and watched the other man tie a noose around Bethany’s neck. His hatred for the other man was near his bursting point. Bethany trained her eyes on him and gave him a hesitant smile. Whether he liked it or not, the truth was he needed two working arms if they were going to escape, and Bethany knew this.

  At least he had hidden the new coins in a secret pouch in Éimhin’s saddle. If they did manage to escape, they would be doing it with money, making the second leg of their long journey that much easier. But first, they had to find a way to escape.

  With Bethany under his control via the rope around her neck, Pelor dropped to his knees, untied Cal’s hands, and tied him to the tree, leaving only his bad arm free of the bindings. He stepped away, keeping a firm hold on the rope tied to Bethany’s neck.

  Bethany knelt beside Cal, and without warning, pulled the injured arm outward, popping the shoulder back into place. Cal gasped with the pain of the sudden movement and swallowed the bile rising in his throat. It hurt just as much to relocate it as it had to dislocate it in the first place. The hours of having it tied behind his back hadn’t helped matters.

  Bethany turned to look at Pelor. “Can I fetch some water from that stream?”

  Pelor nodded his ascent and followed her to Éimhin’s side, where she withdrew one of their empty water pouches and a scrap of cloth. She went to the little creek, Pelor in tow, and filled the water pouch and wet the cloth. With these in hand, she moved to Cal’s side and began cleaning his face. She pulled his torn tunic to the side, and placed the cool, wet cloth across his swollen shoulder. Bethany pressed the opening of the pouch to Cal’s lips and helped him drink, before pouring some over his shoulder and the cloth.

  “All right, that’s enough,” said Pelor suddenly, giving a gentle tug on the rope.

  Bethany grimaced and Cal had to fight the urge to struggle against his own ropes. Now was not the time, he told himself.

  “Now, deal with the horses,” Pelor ordered. “I assume after all these months you’ve learned how.”

  Bethany nodded her ascent before moving first to Éimhin.

  Pelor tugged on the rope. “Mine first.”

  From where Cal sat, he watched Bethany stretch her aching throat. A fresh wave of fiery rage swelled in his chest as he watched the man jerk Bethany around by a leash as though she were a dog. She obediently moved to the other horse and began removing its tack, rubbing it down, and watering it in the creek.

  When this was done she moved on to Éimhin and, finally, to the little donkey. By the time she was finished, Cal could see the sweat pouring down her face. Sweat caused her tunic to cling to her flesh. She undid the ties that held the sleeves to the vest of the jerkin and slipped out of them.

  “Anything else, master?” she said with a fake little bow.

  Big mistake, Cal thought from where he sat.

  Pelor jerked the rope until she stumbled against him. He grabbed her shoulder and squeezed. Bethany let out a slight murmur of pain before clamping her lips shut.

  “Remember little princess: Today, I’m in control.”

  Cal watched as Bethany glared up at their captor. “You’re in control.”

  “And don’t forget it. Now go sit down by your boy and keep quiet.”

  Bethany obeyed, sitting down next to Cal so that her arm pressed gently against his injured shoulder, holding the joint in place. It hurt, but he knew the joint needed to be stabilized. Pelor bound Bethany to the tree, being sure Cal’s injured arm was tied down within her bonds.

  The other man built himself a fire and cooked his dinner, pointedly ignoring them.

  “What happened, Pelor?” Bethany finally asked. “Why are you now working for Wolfric?”

  “I work for whoever pays me,” he said, not even looking up from his meal.

  “Even Wolfric? Who’s done so much harm, who’s killed so many people?”

  “If he pays in gold.”

  “Don’t try,�
�� whispered Cal.

  “Listen to your boy there,” agreed Pelor.

  “This world has changed us both, Pelor.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Lyolf sat beside Athelyna, enjoying her amazement of the local Zemês as much as he was enjoying the brief respite from their travels. The Lurran woman’s mouth spent most of the time open as she stared at some unusual custom or animal. Upon first arriving at the Zemê camp, she had been enthralled with the camels. After two days with the Zemê, she had grown more accustomed to their unusual desert habits, but Lyolf had lost none of his joy in watching her. She still liked to query the locals about the unusual foods they ate and how they prepared them.

  Tomorrow, though, they would begin their journey across the Central Wastelands, guided by a Zemê caravan. It was this or hire a boat to transport them, but a boat was slower and more dangerous for the horses. Besides, Cred and his family couldn’t afford the fare, and Lyolf wasn’t about to be separated from Athelyna.

  Lyolf knew that she knew he was thoroughly enamored with her, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. At first he had done his best to hide his infatuation, but the more time they spent together the more his intrigue evolved into something more. Lyolf was even beginning to form plans in the back of his mind, plans he tried his best to ignore. He knew she had every intention of continuing on to her family, but he couldn’t help but hope that she might be persuaded to stay in Nava with him.

  “Have you tried these, sir,” she said, holding up a dried date for him to inspect.

  He chuckled. “Yes, I’ve had them. And please, no more ‘sir’. Just call me Lyolf.”

  She smiled at him, a feint blush appearing on her tanned cheeks, before popping the date in her mouth and chewing. Lyolf watched her chew, enthralled with the muscles in her cheeks and neck.

  Chewing should not be erotic, he thought to himself. And yet with her exotic looks, Lyolf found everything she did attractive. With something much like pain, he pulled his eyes away from her and stared at the fire.

  He had to keep his cool.

  She seemed to realize he wasn’t watching her anymore. At first, Athelyna began fiddling with the sleeves of her tunic, and when that didn’t draw his gaze away from the fire, she stretched out her long legs and began sifting the loose sand through the toes of her bare feet. For a split second, Lyolf’s eyes dropped to her wiggling toes before turning back to the fire.

  Lyolf let out a long yawn and stretched.

  “It’s late,” he said. “And we all have to be up early. I will say goodnight.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Lyolf saw Athelyna glare up at him as he climbed to his feet.

  What did she expect? he wondered. Assuming she’s interested in me, does she expect me to woo her in front of the others?

  Lyolf walked away from the fire to where his horses stood munching on fodder provided by the Zemê. They used a special blend of plant life found in the desert that would promote health in the animals, even when their food and water supply would be diminished. He patted his warhorse before settling down in the sand, his head propped up on a bedroll—it was too warm for blankets here—happy to think Athelyna might actually have warmed up to him.

  Lyolf woke to the sound of others moving around him. The sun was barely even brightening the dark sky on the horizon. He stood up and dusted the sand off his clothing. He had bundled up his armor, being too warm in the central lands to wear it; they would be safe enough from attack with the Zemê. The dangers of the Central Wasteland were things like thirst and poisonous snakes.

  As he loaded up his warhorse, Athelyna appeared beside him, dressed in a traditional Zemê robe, her feet clad in sandals. Her hair was covered with a headscarf that wrapped around her face, covering everything but her eyes. It was a very enchanting look which Lyolf found difficult to ignore.

  She leaned against his horse and watched him finish securing the last of the tack.

  “Are you so determined to ignore me?” she asked in a coy voice.

  Lyolf finally looked directly at her. “What is your game?” he asked without meaning to.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do. When we first started traveling together you wanted nothing to do with me. I practically had to beg to get you to tell me about your people. Now you seek me out and… well… and it seems like you’re trying to seduce me.”

  She batted her eyelashes at him.

  “Is it working?”

  Lyolf stared at her for a long moment before responding. “I do not know you well, Athelyna, but I know this is not you. What’s going on?”

  The woman looked down at the sand, blinking furiously. Lyolf took hold of her chin and forced her to look up at him. He wasn’t surprised to find her eyes wet and tears just beginning to brim over her lids.

  “Do you not like me?” she asked, sadness welling up in her eyes behind the tears.

  “I think you know perfectly well that I like you. You might not know just how much I like you.”

  “How much is that?”

  “I want to keep you in Nava as my lady.”

  “You mean…?” She trailed off.

  “Marry you, yes.”

  Athelyna didn’t respond, though her eyes were wide with shock, her tears forgotten.

  “Now, what are these games?” Lyolf asked again.

  She tried to look back down at the sand, but he kept her chin up. After a long, agonizing wait, she spoke. “Brid told me that you… wanted me.”

  “True enough,” he admitted when she didn’t continue.

  “And that Aardê lords take what they want… and that if I didn’t give you what you wanted, you wouldn’t protect us. But then you never… took it. So she told me to seduce you.”

  The revelation came out in short bursts of hurried words. It suddenly all made sense to Lyolf, and he felt foolish for not realizing it in the beginning. He let go of her chin so that she could hide her eyes from him.

  “That foolish woman,” he said, more to himself. “Athelyna. I want you for my wife. Aardê lord I may be, but I do not force myself upon women, nor do I barter with sex. You are safe with me, whatever you choose. Just know this: If you choose to stay with me in Nava, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy.”

  Athelyna didn’t respond.

  “Would you like to ride with me or return to Cred and Brid?”

  “May I?”

  “Of course.”

  He lifted her up into the saddle and climbed on behind her. With both of them in the saddle, they would have to take frequent breaks, especially while treading over the soft sands of the wasteland, but he wouldn’t trade the opportunity to wrap his arm around her waist for the easiest journey in the world.

  “I… um… I didn’t return to Cred and Brid last night. They may think…”

  “That you were with me?” he supplied.

  She nodded.

  “We can leave them to their misconceptions if you’d like, if that will make your life easier.”

  She nodded again, and Lyolf felt glad she could not see the grin spreading across his face.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Bethany rode in the back of their little caravan as they entered the daunting city of Topaq. Though she had studied the Bumi culture, and even met a few during her short life, she had never visited the city that once housed their royalty. It was one thing to meet a Bumi woman within Wolfric’s castle, dressed in a way to meet a king; it was a different matter entirely to see row upon row of scantily clad women milling around the marketplace.

  The Bumi lived in the hottest region of the peninsula, and their chosen clothing style fit the climate. Most women wore plain gowns without sleeves of any sort. The loose fitting garment was pulled tight by decorative roping wrapped in intricate patterns around their waist, starting just under their breasts and winding down to their hips. The wealthier women wore decorative headdresses adorned with veils of sheer material.

&n
bsp; The men’s clothing varied more depending on rank than the women. Bethany quickly noticed that the poorer men wore trousers cut off at the knee and loose tunics, much like her brothers wore during one summer with record-breaking temperatures. The more prominent men wore loose robes, with sleeves that opened wide, flowing gracefully as they walked. The robes were kept in check by belts: the wealthier the man, the more impressive the belt.

  The great city sat on the edge of the Bumi Inlet, with a natural port brimming with sailing ships. The sacking of Topaq had been one of Wolfric’s greatest victories, giving him control of most of the Bumi Inlet, and all the trade routes that went with it, not to mention the Bumi’s famous fish and salt industries. Everyone wanted Bumi fish and Bumi salt with which to preserve it.

  Pelor took them by way of the Cascina Bridge, allowing them to enter Topaq from the west. The enormous city was surrounded by tall sandstone walls. Their captor led them through one of its many gatehouses, nodding casually to the men who jumped to attention at the appearance of a soldier who outranked them. Overall, though, Bethany got the impression that those on duty in Topaq did not view it as a difficult assignment. There seemed to be a general laziness about the troops she saw walking the walls and guarding the gatehouses. In comparison, Pelor looked as though he deserved a promotion.

  In their week of travel, Bethany had not been able to ascertain why the once-faithful knight had decided to work for Wolfric. Many times she had pushed him to the point of gagging her again. Eventually, she learned when to give up on the topic. Angering him wouldn’t help them escape.

  Then again, he hadn’t given them many opportunities. Pelor kept Erin tied up at all time and only allowed Bethany freedom when he wanted her to do some chore for him. Even then, he kept a rope tied around her neck. Erin had tried once to free them, but Pelor had woken to the first sounds of him shifting, and the only result of his efforts was an added rope around his own neck. This new rope was attached to Pelor’s horse during the day and Pelor’s own leg during the night. Their captor took great pleasure in hinting at the possibility of his little mare spooking and breaking Erin’s neck.