I don't know who you are, but it's lovely to see people creep on here early and give me those big fat 5 stars. I thank you all so much.
Cheated
Aurianne found it most difficult to contend with her new found situation from which there seemed no escape, nothing in the young woman's life had prepared her for this. Always she had been free, cared for, respected in her community. Living in a settlement that frowned on slavery and was ruled by fairness, where no one was below the next man. Through the long sleepless night she vowed she would never be a slave, least of all his. She would never obey the demand of this boorish man nor any other, no matter what the cost. She would end her life first.
*****
Morning crept slowly over the landscape seeping into the dark cave and waking the sleeping men. Aran was awake first, he did not linger beneath the warmth of his cape but set to rekindling the fire. He was eager to be gone though he did toy with the idea of bathing in the oasis below, however he did not act on this impulse. He would though after many hungry days of traveling sate his appetite first.
Aurianne just sat observing the large man. He was not displeasing to look at. To be honest he had quite the opposite effect on her, which in itself was quite disturbing. Her captor was a little older than she, but still bore the last fading traces of boyish youth, softening his stoic features at moments. His body was true and strong, no longer that of an adolescent. His harsh existence in the wastes forging the hard warrior and his habits, always under the surface lurked the no nonsense mercenary, with very little room for pity or remorse.
Aurianne could sense all this and more, and she shivered. Though he was fair and golden, there was the presence of darkness beneath, an unbridled savagery. All this combined to make the usually fearless woman want nothing more than to run from this man and never set sights on him again.
His smaller more joyous companion stirred stretching and yawning noisily, and Aurianne could smell the meat cooking, realizing she was more than just a little hungry this morning. Aran met Aurianne's eyes a slight one sided smile curled his stern lips and Aurianne looked away, however he did not, again appraising his fine captive and all his anticipated pleasures.
*****
"I wish to at least take my horse." Aurianne said strongly risking his ire as Aran marched her forward hands tied. He was pushing her ahead of him down the narrow path, towards the herd of animals that drank from the sandy beach of the oasis. Jhary some distance behind humming a merry tune to himself and looking up at the heavily blanketed sky. He was as annoyingly cheerful, as this other awful man was dour and cruel Aurianne lamented.
Aran did not acknowledge her request if he had even heard it. Instead he took his own large chestnut gelding from the herd as his companion fumblingly sought his own mount in the milling press of horses and cattle. Isabou came from the centre of the confusion to nuzzle her Mistress, Aurianne smiled.
At least she still had one friend. She cast her eyes about the canyon, she had not sighted Beauty for some time. Just as well she thought, though she had missed the shaggy black hound. Guessing at last the creature had moved on.
"This one?" Aran said as he threw the rope halter over Isabou's massive head.
Aurianne nodded pleased with her one tiny victory, let there be more she thought. She was most unready for Aran to haul her over the horses back and secure her hands to her legs beneath the great mares belly. It would be an uncomfortable journey ahead. She wanted to protest but knew it would be ignored. He was going to make her life very uncomfortable until she agreed to be what it was he wanted. So be it then, but she would not give into his demands.
The trio climbed from the steep sided cleft up into the biting wind and cold. Not that it was not still cold below, but at least it was sheltered. Today the wind was vicious and beating in their faces. It was a foolhardy day to travel. Jhary sat his mount unimpressed with Aran's judgement. One more day here would not have mattered and possibly it would have been very restful. However there seemed no stopping him.
Aran all but closed his eyes as he faced his mount into the prevailing wind, pulling his hood over his face and let the animal take his lead. The others followed in his wake. Not far Aran thought, tonight I shall be home. He could not wait to see the look on both Bennett's and his brothers face.
Jhary sat, face shielded behind his horses neck, eyes watering with the stinging sand lashing his face. He felt great trepidation to meet the others of Aran's clan, this was madness he ruminated, feeling more panicked with each forward step of his mount. They must indeed be fierce to survive out here. He had seen firsthand Aran's stoic acceptance of the exile and the rigors of the environment, nothing seemed to daunt this mountain of a man that rode before him. Aran's will was greater than his.
Jhary looked up startled, his own horse almost plowing into the rump of Aran's much larger one. He had been very inattentive, not hard to do in this rising dust. He was spending all his effort focusing on breathing clean air. He watched the mighty warrior slide from the animal he was riding and stand very still, his hand reaching across his hard stomach for his blade.
Jhary fought down his morbid fears as he scanned the immediate periphery from horseback. He too drawing his sword. There was no one here, not in this dust storm surely? Aran did not move, he was listening. Though what he could hear, and what had triggered his caution was most mystifying to Jhary?
Their captive wriggled on the third horse uncomfortable and straining to see what the issue was. Jhary looked across at her, she was brave and proud, he was not sure he could have lasted this long tied thus without complaint. The big mare's head shot up, she reared, and a multitude of faceless black clad figures closed in about them.
Aran backed into the bulk of his own mount, sword already poised, and Jhary slid off his own frightened animal racing to join the large warrior's field of protection. As great as Aran's prowess was the battle was all but non existent. Caught out in the open, hampered by the lack of visibility in the driving sand; and overwhelmed by far superior numbers.
Aran was ready, the heaviness of his blade reassuring in his hand, the warmth of his horse against his broad back. He did not even have the time to remove the restriction of his cape, and he did not try. Let them come, let Blacksteel taste their blood.
He prayed his warrior's prayer. There was no tomorrow, only now. He felt the heavy weight of the net before he saw it, becoming almost hopelessly entangled in it the moment it fell over his shoulders and head. He fought wildly to remove it but many hands were dragging him down, the more he fought the more entrapped he became. His sword all but useless to him under such conditions. He cast it to the ground reaching for his poignard that he may be able to continue the fight at such close quarters.
Aran was aware his companion was already down and being dragged away, the horses and his female prize had also fallen into his assailants hands. Aran was angered, and surrounded by a wall of unknown men. His knife sought and found flesh, he heard the grunt of pain as he pushed the blade further into the man's abdomen. He felt satisfied with his kill and pressed for another. His wish was not to be granted, white light exploded before his eyes and he could remember no more.
*****
Aran fought down the strong urge to vomit, his head hurt. It was dark, and he was cold. The dust storm of earlier that day had subsided. The pain and nature of his awakening was nothing he had not dealt with before on the battlefield, but the worst thing by far was the heavy downward pressure across his back, shoulders, and arms which he could not relieve. Not at all helped by the aggravation of his badly bruised shoulder.
He made to move, soon realizing he was securely yoked to a great split wooden beam, his arms roped at intervals to the length of the heavy wood, his wrists shackled to either end in locked iron bracelets. His ankles were bound tightly together, he could not rise if he tried. He sighed and closed his eyes, he so desired to be ill. Attempting to will it away without success, and as he vomited on to the sands he saw dark boots appear before him.
He looked up, a well dressed man clad mostly in black suede accented with silver studding stood before him flanked by many others in the moonless night. He poked at Aran with a plaited leather riding crop. His thinning and receding dark hair reached just past his shoulders, lank and oily.
His frame still powerful, Aran judged him to be a fighting man himself, aged somewhere in his mid forties. He possessed a tight lipped unkind mouth, framed in a very neat dark brown goatee. All but one of the other men who accompanied him wore black head cloths rendering them anonymous.
"You were right Jormugar he is exceptional. A fine animal. I have not seen one this good for a very long time. I do have a use for him. Worth the wait." His voice carried an imperiousness that sparked even Aran's difficult to arouse sense of fear. The athletic, wild man beside him nodded. He had a longbow cast over his lean shoulder, the white of the boars teeth in his ears. One of his only features apparent in the enveloping darkness.
Aran felt entirely crushed only hours from his goal. He looked to the ground he was hurting and too demoralized to hate. The knot of men lingered by him inspecting him in the dark like he was a prize bull. He was bound in such a manner he could do naught to resist their inspection of him. He spat at one who came too close and tried to bite another, all the action did was elicit a laugh from the majority of his captors, and someone slapped him hard on the back with a whip for his behavior.
After some time they departed leaving Aran to his private despair and pains. During this time the warrior realized he had also been divested of every piece of his trademark cache of gold and gems he always wore. Only one item remained, the ruby eyed dragon ring. Whey they had not taken it he could not fathom. The remainder of his fingers and neck quite bare.
