War-Torn

by J. E. Keep

  Letting loose another of its bellows, the mass of unearthly noises grew louder, as if approaching from all sides. The coming storm nearly about to consume them both whole, it felt like.

  It was as she tried to select a tree to get up in that the big wolven grabbed her in his arm. “This way,” he hissed needlessly, as he carried her completely.

  It would’ve been an amusing experience, if not for the situation. Though as he rushed forwards, she saw a curious and terrifying sight.

  The great elkeer stood a story tall itself, and its antlers added another to its height. Though unlike its shrub-eating cousin, it had a mouth of fangs and a predator’s eyes.

  She never would have thought that great, menacing beast would be the less ominous sight before her, however. For even though she couldn’t make the things out, a swarm of formless black creatures came at it from behind and to the side. They jumped at it, clawed, bit, and let out their hideous cries.

  It was so familiar to her, and she felt her world spin as she stared into the heart of the abyss.

  It was only the recently set darkness that spared her a closer view of the shadowed creatures, yet still her mind reeled.

  The elkeer bucked, its gait off as it bellowed in anguish at the gnashing teeth and claws of the dozens of creatures that mauled at it, and the dozens more that joined in the fray with each passing second.

  Such a mighty beast struggled valiantly, but she knew the inevitable.

  As her world spun and she felt her mind slip from her, Faze pulled her into a burrow of some sort.

  Darkness consumed her world, but it was a comforting kind. It was a worldly darkness. Not like the horrifying abyss of the creatures above that she had witnessed.

  He pulled her to him in the underground hideaway and covered her mouth, forcing his own breathing to still.

  While above she could hear the final anguished cries of the elkeer, the slowing stomps of its passage, until the final crash. The bleat it gave was pitiable, but the gnashing and clawing of those creatures… The sound of it seemed to eat at her brain!

  Faze muttered into her ear, “Stop screaming.”

  She hadn’t realized she was, but the moment he pointed it out, it only seemed rational to scream. The creatures were gnawing at her mind and devouring her from the inside out! The anguish!

  And then her world went black.

  Chapter 40 – The Nobles

  Caprice lay in the soapy water, her hand swiping the salted tears from her cheeks. She cursed herself for her weakness, for letting him get to her.

  Part of it wasn’t even Beren. It was something else, and the feeling of the lapping water at her chest reminded her of why she felt so alone.

  Daughters shouldn’t be so fixated on their father. On how their hands felt, on their scent, on how they made their stomach leap, but as Caprice’s cloth rubbed along her stomach, that was what came back to her. Her father bathing her on that fateful night.

  It had been something she’d revelled in, teased him about, but now she was alone with a man that was so similar to him. Yet he inspired none of the excitement that her daddy did and she gasped as she felt where the cloth had wandered. She throbbed with need and pressed the warm material in harder, trying to quell it.

  She hadn’t decided if she’d go to the study, but something inside her screamed that she had to. That she couldn’t be so stubborn that she sabotaged her own interest. Worse still... what if she sabotaged her father’s interests? Would he still love her as he was rotting in a cell, paying for the crime she’d begged him to commit?

  Her body rocked and the water lapped at her breasts, exciting the light-brown nipples further in the cool air. “Daddy,” she murmured into the empty room, feeling her body coil before the inevitable lightning strike coursed through her.

  Chapter 41 – The Front

  Dawn was rising as the two soldiers made their way through the woods, travelling AWOL.

  They had walked throughout the night without rest, at Levek’s urging. Though one thing kept bothering Caslian…

  “It was so easy,” she said, muttering in disbelief as the sky began to slowly turn a greyish-blue.

  “I can’t believe it either,” Levek said. “Nobody tried to stop us… there was… nothing.”

  Their pace was slower as the reality that nobody would be pursuing them sank in.

  “But why? I was sure at least one man spotted us sneaking away,” Caslian said, her weariness overpowered by her confusion.

  Though Levek seemed to figure it out quicker, with his many more years of experience.

  “They figure we won’t last out here. So why waste their energy?” He asked, his voice rough and tired as they carried on through the trees.

  The night had been uneventful. So close to the front as they were when they started, there was no life. No birds, no crickets even. It wasn’t until they finally made it to the trees that they seemed to slowly escape the realities of the front.

  “Should we stop for some rest then?” Caslian asked, but immediately her eyes were already drawn to something.

  “What is it?” Levek asked.

  There was very little left to see, but for the blood on the grass, and the broken and gnawed remnants of bones. But whatever it was, the creature must have been immense.

  “What happened here…?” Caslian murmured softly in disbelief.

  Levek, however, reacted less with curiosity and more with alarm. And panic.

  His eyes widened and he stumbled away, looking manic as he stared at such a gory sight.

  “What’s wrong?” Caslian asked, coming to his side. He’d been on the front for so long, and had seen and experienced so many atrocities, so his alarm was more frightening than the sight itself. She didn’t get an answer immediately though, just watched as his chest heaved and he seemed so utterly panicked.

  “It was just an animal,” she said, trying to calm him. “See? There’s parts of an antler.”

  Though Levek was so petrified he couldn’t move. He clutched at his head, tore at his hair as he struggled to breath. His panic was intense, the sight of blood and gore affecting him so deeply. It took Caslian so long just to snap him back to reality, let alone calm him down.

  “It’s okay,” she said, looking into his eyes.

  Her gaze slowly brought him back to reality, and not even her disfigured face prevented his fondness for her from bringing him around.

  “Oh Cas,” he said, putting his arms around her as she then cradled his head to her chest.

  On top of everything else, Levek’s tenuous new position only made their lives all the more difficult. They were both so broken, so afraid. Caslian was almost ready to give up herself then, unable to envision how she could shoulder Levek’s psychological burden upon her own, when a sound startled them both.

  It was grunting. A woman’s grunting.

  Levek reached for his belt and pulled out a pistol he’d stolen from one of the commissioned officers at the front.

  Though Caslian saw the way his hand shook so intensely, and wondered what good it could possibly do.

  Once he pulled back upon the hammer and it clicked into place, however, the sound of the woman ceased.

  “I’m armed,” came a woman’s voice.

  “So are we,” Caslian said, taking the gun from Levek’s shaking hand and holding it herself with all the brief basic training skills she had.

  Carefully, gun held out and at the ready, Caslian rounded a bush and pointed her weapon at the source of the voice.

  There before her, she saw a disheveled woman, all in leather, only a pair of long daggers for weapons as she crouched beside a large, beastlike creature. He was human in ways, and yet not, with fur covering him and large fangs.

  Caslian wondered if that was what had killed the antlered creature.

  “Dammit! No!” the woman cried out, sounding so defeated as she plunged a dagger into the ground again and again in frustration.

  Caslian found herself staring in utter
confusion, unsure of what the creature the woman was hauling was, and why she was so distraught.

  “Just let us go, please!” the woman pleaded.

  Levek stood and walked over to Caslian, placing his hand upon the barrel of the gun and slowly lowering it.

  “We’re not going to harm you,” he said, his voice still not as steady as usual, but better than his panicked delirium but a few moments before. “What are you doing, ma’am?” he asked the woman.

  Rosa wiped at her face with the back of her sleeve, crouched down, weary, cut and exhausted.

  “My friend is dying,” she said, looking to the large, furry monster of a man. “I need to get him to help.”

  Chapter 42 – The Matron

  Aleena awaited the end with Vicalus and his people. Though unlike them, she didn’t wait for it sitting down. She would not wait for death with patience and grace.

  She paced, mostly.

  “I don’t want to die in some stinking, piss-drenched barracks as part of the last gasp of a lost people,” she said, agitated and irate.

  “Neither do we,” Ramtok said firmly.

  “Shut up, already,” Vicalus said irritably.

  “No,” Saghar said. “If some of us charge out the front against the siege, while we light the back wall on fire with our torch, then perhaps we can buy time to escape.”

  It was a long shot, Aleena knew that immediately. Nothing burned that damn fast.

  “And who’ll do the charge, huh? My people? Ever the sacrificial lamb?” Vicalus said, balling up his fists with suppressed rage.

  “Chieftain!” came the cry from above, as one of the shifters lowered themselves down, looking less like a man and more like a snake with how he did so.

  “What is it?!” Vicalus said, his rage vanished as he looked on expectantly.

  “They’re coming!” said the man who had been watching from the tower above. “Their guard is returning from their patrols!”

  With that, hope fled all those present.

  What little opportunity Saghar’s proposed plan offered melted away, and even the two Kron seemed a little flattened by it.

  “We’re doomed,” Vicalus said, slumping down onto the floor before the hearth.

  Everyone sank into depressed silence, until Aleena — still struggling to come up with some miracle plan — asked:

  “From what direction?”

  “What does it fucking matter? We’re done,” Vicalus said, falling sullen and into despair.

  Aleena was brimming with rage at the man herself. Far from apathy, she wanted to call him out, tell the whole lot around him that he must’ve murdered Britus when given the opportunity, and botched the whole plan.

  “West and North by North-Northeast,” said the shifter.

  That distracted Aleena from her anger.

  “What? Did I hear you right?” she asked.

  But Saghar was already moving off to the ladder pushing the shifter out of the way to make his way up and peer out.

  “It’s the Kron!” Came Saghar’s cry as he ducked back inside the barracks, eyes wide.

  Chapter 43 – The Nobles

  The fire in the study gave a pleasant crackle, and the Viscount Beren Rensford sat beside it in his black velvet vest with red silken shirt and cravat. He looked strikingly handsome with the way the orange flame reflected off his skin and hair.

  “Come on in,” he invited without even seeing her in the dark hallway outside. He poured her up a glass of wine. “I won’t bite.”

  She’d spent a lot of time recovering from her bath, and had fixed her hair into ringlets that cascaded down her shoulders. They bobbed as she walked, barefoot, over the cool floor. Her stomach was wound into knots, but she felt a certain relaxed calm as well. With each step closer to him, however, that feeling began to disappear.

  He was unpredictable. Cruel.

  And he had no love for her.

  He would use her and spit her out, only to laugh at her foolishness. Yet her shoulders were straight and her jawline was held high.

  The navy skirt was longer in the back than in the front, and the emerald top could have clashed with it horribly, but somehow the two shades worked together. They made her look more grounded in the earthier tones, and she hid her sneer with a smile.

  “Well, I wouldn’t take that bet, for one.”

  He returned her smile with one of his own.

  “Smart girl.” He lifted the wine glass he had for her, though she noted the lack of a seat anywhere in his vicinity. “Lovely dress, by the way. I appreciate you going through the trouble of looking pleasing for me.” And it was hard not to remember the scene with him just hours before in the dining room.

  Her stomach tightened again, but she smiled graciously. She’d had her noble training, of course, but she so rarely cared to use it. She couldn’t stand useless people, and bowing down to them was something she’d never been able to do, no matter how powerful they were.

  She stood in front of him, strategically out of arm’s reach, looking down at him and feeling stronger because of it.

  The young Caprice was beautiful, and she knew it. Her brown ringlets skirted across her fair, naked shoulders, and the emerald shirt was light and airy. It was a contrast to the constrictive corset, but her form was still so attractive even without the aid of the shaping device.

  “So then. What did you have in mind for this auspicious evening?”

  “Come, sit,” he said, offering the wine glass to her, with no apparent place for her to take him up on his offer except the floor or his lap. “Let’s talk.” He looked so pleasant as he smiled to her, his own hair and looks neatly tended to in preparation for their meeting, she could tell. “I’ve even got a present for you. Something you’ll like, I swear.”

  She smiled at him as she remained still.

  “I don’t think I’d take any of your bets, Viscount.” Her dark eyes moved around the room, making a show of it. “And it seems there’s nowhere for me to sit.”

  Caprice knew what he wanted, but her pride still kept her numb. She’d do this. Do what she had to.

  That doesn’t mean it should be easy on him.

  The young Viscount parted his knees and gestured to the floor between them. “There’s a lovely plush rug right there,” he said, and true enough, it was a thick, old rug from some bygone era. An antique in its own right, but looking soft and thick. “Don’t be shy now. Sit and take the wine, we’ve got things to discuss.”

  He was so inwardly smug, that was all she could think. Oh, his smile looked so genuine, so handsomely pure, but how could it be? He was dangling so much over her, it hardly seemed possible.

  Her nose twitched and she regretted wearing the skirt she was in. It wasn’t scandalous, but the front rose up and it was so billowy that sitting would be a task. Still, she gave him the same smile in return, but where his was fiery, hers was cool.

  “How blind I must be,” she said with saccharine sweetness as she let herself sit as gracefully as she could onto the soft carpet. Her legs went to her side and the skirt slid off her thighs, revealing far more than appropriate. Her slender fingers accepted the wine, and she lofted it to him.

  “To his death, then.”

  He looked down to her there at his feet, crooked a brow just slightly then nodded.

  “To his death,” he repeated, taking a sip of his wine.

  There was no rush to get to the point, and he let his piercing gaze study her, roam over her form.

  “You’re a beautiful woman,” he said, taking another sip of wine. “You would make a lovely trophy piece for the arm of a powerful lord.”

  “And isn’t that what I’ve always aspired to be?” A trophy. She was far more than that, she thought, but she tried to hide her ego with another smile. She was sat on a rug at a smug Viscount’s feet. It was too late for pride.

  The smiling fiend put his glass aside.

  “I very much doubt that,” he said, sitting comfortably before her as he took a small little bo
x from the side table. “And perhaps you’re even clever enough to attain more,” he remarked. “Regardless, I got you a gift. Something special, that I think will compliment your beauty nicely.”

  Very meticulously, he opened the box and slowly pulled out a delightful little choker. It was black fabric that then dangled a fat, teardrop emerald in silver. “An old heirloom, one might say,” he said as he let it twist in the fire light so beautifully.

  Yet she was suspicious of any kindness. From anyone, not just him. Her fingers dug into the carpet as she pushed herself up to stare at it.

  She took her time, dragging her tongue over her mouth as her dark eyes moved from it to him.

  “And the catch?”

  “None.” He smiled down to her with a crook in his lips. “And I mean it this time,” he said with some slight amount of mirth.

  Very slowly he bent forward, undoing the choker then leaning in close to her, about ready to place it around her neck. “Lift your hair,” he said softly.

  She hesitated before sitting up straight and letting her fingers lightly gather her curls. He could see as her thighs tightened, the muscles becoming more pronounced as they had to work harder to keep her balanced.

  The care with which he placed that choker around her neck could only be described as gentle or delicate. His hard, masculine hands were tougher than what she was used to, but felt so strong. He clasped it shut, and it felt tight. Not enough to choke off her breath, but the feeling of its presence was unavoidable as it squeezed about her throat.

  “Beautiful,” he said appreciatively, touching the large emerald and affixing it just above her breasts as his fingers grazed her skin. “A gift to keep, regardless of what happens,” he mused aloud as he studied her and the new item.

  She felt herself flush, first in rage, then in embarrassment. Her tongue swept over her lips once more and her hand went to touch the delicate jewel. Her fingers lightly brushed his and she stopped, pulling away. “And what is going to happen?”

  He didn’t shun her touch, however. He lifted his hand and stroked his fingers along her jawline and over her cheek.