Helena was exhausted. The ache in her body could be felt in every inch of skin, every unmoved muscle and rattled bone. Her head ached constantly and she fitted in and out of consciousness. The blow to her head had been minor but in combination with her vision, little food and water she was left weak.
The rider seemed tireless. At first she had tried to speak to him but he had ignored her. He had ridden the entire night and into the next day. When the horse began to tire she hoped he would stop but her hopes were dashed by the fresh horse tied to a tree with a nearly gone supply of food and water. He left the old horse tied to the tree with the little bit of food that was left and sighed.
"You better be worth the price of this horse if he is died when we get back here," he told her as he lifted her onto the horse in front of him again and spurred the rested horse forward. It was the only other time he spoke to her.
This horse took them through another day and night. Both mounts were strong and seemed accustomed to the long ride. Once he had spurred it forward the horse would gallop along until he could run no farther and then walk forward until it felt rested enough to do it again. The horse seemed to control the pace more then the man.
It was at a point when the horse was walking to catch its breath when she heard the sound of breaking branches and deep repetitive chanting in a sing song language from far off in the woods. There was no way to silence that many men traveling through such thick growth. Smiling the man spurred his exhausted horse forward. She tried to sit up a little higher in his arms to see better but whimpered as a sharp spasm shot through her back.
There was a whistle ahead of them as they drew nearer and the man called out in that same sing song language that she could hear being chanted. The chanting stopped as she listened to a message get called back through the men one voice at a time until the person passing the call on was far enough away she had to strain to hear it. Helena frowned up at him in confusion. It sounded so strange and fluid compared to the guttural language of her people and she wondered from how far the army had come. And more importantly, why did they come?
Helena lay helpless in the man's arms, afraid to try and move again as she watched them ride past faces. Men marched through the trees, breaking branches and sending animals scampering away. They all wore travel worn clothing and leather armor with their shields, weapons and bags strapped to their backs. She made eye contact with some of them as they passed on the horse. Some looked curious; others hopefully and there were even a couple who seemed disinterested. Their faces were dirty and many covered in battle scars. Most of the wounds were old but a few she saw had been recent enough to be red and stark.
It seemed an eternity of passing faces at a steady walk before she heard the sound of horses approaching them through the trees. She turned her head slowly and grimaced as a pain shot through her neck. The man behind her pulled back on the reigns and the horse stopped, lowering its head in exhaustion. As the horses head lowered she caught her breath causing a chuckle from the horseman.
"It is about time I hear some surprise in you," he mumbled.
A group of five men on horse back rode towards them. Each man wore finely polished armor of steel. There were dents and even holes from previous battles but the armor was still polished and the larger indentations from heavy blows had been hammered out. All of their eyes were on her face as they weaved around the men and trees. But the man who rode out in front of them was who had made her gasp.
He had long auburn hair with golden highlights tied back in a long braid down his back that bounced when he rode. His hair was longer then Helena's and looked better cared for. His armor was golden and shimmered along with his hair in the sun that peeked through the branches above him. He sat high on his mount, guiding the reigns with one gloved hand and a life spent on the back of a horse. But his eyes made a shiver run through her. The intensity of his green eyes as he looked at her with almost an eager look made her grip her apron in her fingers where they rested in her lap. There was no way to mistake him for anything but a King.
When he passed the men looked up with admiration and moved aside with a bow of their heads before continuing their march. He was a tall man with a broad chest, slender waste and well muscled legs. He made the armor he wore look light. It was obviously designed for riding with gapes to allow the encasement on his chest to move as he did. His legs were only covered where they were not protected by the horse's body. His arm pieces were strapped on rather then attached to each other to allow easy movement.
Pulling his mount to a stop next to the rider he looked down at her, "This is her?"
The moment he spoke Helena's eyes went wide and her heart stammered into a race that left her light headed. It was the voice from her vision. He was the man who had, or would, be standing over her in the darkness with his knife and torturous fingers.
Helena hid her face against the rider's shirt, ignoring the pain in her back at the change of position to hide the fear and embarrassment on her face.
She heard him chuckle as the rider answers, "Yes King Draven. She did not seem surprised when she woke in my arms on the ride."
The King examined her a moment and then looked back at Arnas, "Pursuit?"
Arnas shrugged and there was a slight wince of pain around his eyes, "I did not see but I am sure there will be one soon behind me. Her King seemed quiet smitten with her. However, I did have the advantage of at least a few hours head start and a fresh horse."
"The King of Allusia poses no threat. He rules over a small village and is only there to guard the pass." Turning his mount to face the other riders that sat waiting on their horses, he addressed his Lieutenant. "We camp here for the night. Send out riders to find fresh water and double the watch. No one rides out alone from this point on."
The man nodded and raced off on his horse towards the front line.
Draven smiled in triumph at Arnas, "You did well my friend. I knew I was wise in picking you for this task."
Arnas nodded his head, his muscles cramping from the movement. He could not wait to surrender his body to the talented hands of his slave. "There is more news my King. She has warned her village of our approach and they leave tomorrow to travel East through Aralt Pass."
Draven waved a dismissive hand, "They are of no importance now. The item I required from them is here now."
Helena could not take her eyes off of him and when he turned his attention back to her, her eyes went a touch wider. She was in shock at everything that was happening and found herself floundering to respond to the slightest event. The fact that he had just referred to her as an item rather then a person scared her. And how did the rider so much about her people and what they were doing?
