Inamorata Tales Ch. 02

The big man with the tightly cut black beard stood silently and patiently like a soldier before the figure in the chair. His smooth, shaven skull gleamed dully under the flickering light from the crackling fire as he waited and, eventually, the figure spoke.

'The plan?'

'We will first summon him to Hercot.'

'Hercot? That will not be easy...'

'The papers are genuine, not fakes, and they bear the correct seals. He will not question their validity and so he will not question their contents.'

There was a brief pause as his words were digested. 'Let's hope not, hmm? It would be... inconvenient if he did. And then?'

'He will journey to Kirris in the expectation of meeting the daily train that will take him round The Wilds and straight to his destination. It is the only route that will get him there in time.'

'And how will you get to him on that?'

'We won't have to because the train will be gone before he arrives.'

'Really? And how will you accomplish that particular trick?'

'Leave that to me, but, rest assured, one way or another it will not be there for him to board.'

A shrug. 'You know the ways of such things better than I, Crew. So what will he do then?'

'He will take one of two alternate routes; join the caravan or go on horseback. Those are the only paths open to him that will get him to Hercot in time.'

'And if he takes the caravan?'

'He can't take the chance of one of the wagons breaking. If one stops, they all stop.'

'So he will ride.'

Crew nodded. 'He will ride. The only question is which route he will take.'

'And I take it you have that worked out, too?'

Another nod. 'I do.'

'I am in your hands, then. Try not to drop me, there's a good man. Everything rests on your success in this matter, as you know.'

The man nodded and then paused for a second or two. 'And we cannot enjoy the younger girl as sport?'

A heavy, impatient sigh followed the question. 'No. She must be found with her master and you know how it must look when she is. If she has been... defiled, then questions will be asked and that we cannot afford.'

'And the other? Still the same?'

'She must not only die but she must never be found and you would do well not to treat her lightly. Take her deep into The Wilds before you dispose of her and leave nothing to chance.'

'Very well.'

----------------------

The three rode as fast they dared over the overgrown and unpredictable terrain. They rode in single file, two women and, between them, the man whose protection was their sacred, sworn duty. The lead rider, a tall and elegant woman with fair hair named Rayne was ahead of the other two by a short distance, riding scout. At the back came Naiya, an olive skinned, dark haired girl some years younger than Rayne, who rode closely behind their master, Jarren. Though both women were accomplished in handling a horse, their man was not so adept and was struggling a little with the pace his two girls were trying to maintain. But Rayne was unwilling to ease back too far until they were out of The Wilds.

In fact, if they'd had their way, they wouldn't have been there at all. Why the council was being convened in such a remote place when it usually conducted business in a more suitable city such as Port Hollus, the girls didn't know. Neither did they know the contents of the folder that had galvanised their master into such an immediate, almost panicked rush to attend. That the meeting was to be held in six days time was all he would say. They had hurriedly packed a few bags, travelled to the rail station and spent three days travelling to Kirris, right on the edge of The Wilds. And on the far side of those untamed and largely lawless lands lay their destination, the fort town of Hercot.

The plan had been to continue by rail, taking the longer, safer route round The Wilds, but the train they would have caught had left early, though no-one knew why, and they had missed it by several hours. To most of their fellow travellers this meant an overnight stay in Kirris and then they could catch the next day's train, but to the girl's dismay, Jarren would have none of it.

'We cannot spare the time, Rayne. It is another two day journey at best, probably closer to three and I simplymust notmiss this meeting. The circumstances under which it has been called are... extraordinary and exceptionally troubling and there is no question of me being even an hour late.'

'Then we should take seats on the caravan, my master. There is safety in numbers and our instincts tell us both that we will likely have need of it.'

But, again, he had shaken his head. 'And have to stop every time some fool breaks a wheel or gets bogged down? We could be out there for a week! No, we shall avoid the caravan trail altogether and take the old trading route and we will do so on horseback. That will keep us away from trouble, I have no doubt; it's almost never used now. That is the way we shall travel and that is the end of the matter.'

Rayne turned to Naiya with an anxious, imploring look, seeking support and finding just a shrug as the younger girl blithely accepted Jarren's judgement.

On horseback, the journey could be completed in two days if they rode at a steady pace and only rested briefly overnight. Though Rayne was far from happy, she could see that this was the best way, but it felt little more than the lesser evil. So, after securing the three best mounts available, bedrolls and supplies, they had set off.

And, as Kirris grew smaller behind them, none of them noticed the bird that flew high overhead with a message wrapped around one of its legs.

The trader's route was in rough condition, overgrown in some places and eroded in others, and though the hazards were easy enough to spot they were forced to keep their speed down. Other than that, they rode untroubled until the sun began to set and, when the road was too darkened to see safely by the withering light of the half moon, they made camp. The girls slept in shifts, with one awake throughout the night, sitting away from the dying embers of the fire, concealed in the black night.

At first light, they ate, packed up and set off again.

'Can I ride scout?' Naiya asked as she swung up onto her mount.

Rayne shook her head, about to speak, when Jarren cut in.

'Yes, you can. We need to pick up the pace and I think I'll ride a little better with you close behind me, Rayne.'

It was nonsense but that was the end of the discussion, regardless.

A few hours later, Naiya, now riding ahead as scout, crested a rise. The track dipped down ahead of her into a tree lined gully, before curling away out of sight. She spurred her horse on, turning the corner below as her companions came over the rise behind her. Rayne swore as the younger girl again disappeared from view, something she herself would never let happen and she wished that her master hadn't been so indulgent.

A half minute later they rounded the same bend.

'Naiya!' Jarren called out.

Ahead of them, laying motionless half in the thick grass at the side of the track, was Naiya, her horse waiting a little way ahead.

Before Rayne could do anything, Jarren spurred his horse on.

'No!' she called out in vain as she raced after him.

'Stay on your horse! Stay on your horse!' she cried as Jarren pulled up beside the stricken Naiya and, to Rayne's utter dismay, jumped down to her.

In a flurry of scattered pebbles, Rayne yanked her horse to a stop besides the kneeling Jarren.

'Get back on your horse, master!' she yelled at him, her horse pacing impatiently as it sensed the anxiety of it's rider.

He looked up at with a deep frown. 'Don't be ridiculous! She's hurt-'

'Get back on the horse! Please!' she almost screamed. 'We have to get out – '

And then there was a short whistle before something heavy cracked into the side of Rayne's head and she keeled over to fall in a heap to the soft grass.

As she pulled herself to her feet, Rayne felt blood trickle warmly down the side of her head. Instinctively she turned to her master as the men concealed in the trees ran out, drawn swords glinting in the morning light.

'Run!' Rayne yelled, pushing Jarren towards his horse as she stood to face the attack, drawing her matching daggers from their scabbards. She shook her head to clear the fog that threatened to fill her world and then counted.

Six.

As Jarren fought to get his foot in the stirrup of his horse, the first of their attackers went for him, sword raised above his head.

Rayne put herself between him and her master in a second, the long, curved cross guard of one dagger clashing with the descending blade, stopping it dead. She twisted her wrist, throwing the man off balance and turning him to the side and she buried her other dagger into his neck slashing it aside in the same motion, an arc of blood spraying from the fatal wound. Even as that one fell to the ground, Rayne turned to the next, tugging her dagger free of the bone, swinging it across and blocking the clumsy thrust of his sword.

With the arm now high, Rayne plunged her other dagger into the stomach of her attacker, twisting it round and up, the steel almost gutting him such was the ferocious strength of the blow.

Four.

Jarren was on his horse now, turning it face the road.

Another of the men raced to him, the others suddenly deciding that rushing for her wasn't that wise after all. There was no time to close the gap, Rayne realised and she tossed the dagger in her right hand into the air, catching it by the blood soaked blade and then, with a flick of her wrist, sending it like an arrow through the air. A second later and the man dropped like a puppet whose strings have been cut, crumpling to the floor with the dagger buried in the side of his head.

Thinking her attention was taken, another one went for Rayne, drawing his sword back and plunging it down towards her. She dodged to the side as he closed, one foot lashing brutally out and connecting solidly with the front of his knee. There was crunch and the man howled in pain, dropping to one knee, dropping his sword to clutch the shattered kneecap.

Jarren was off now, his horse kicking up stones as he dug in.

Ride, love, as fast as you can.

Almost casually, Rayne knelt and, with her eyes fixed firmly on the remaining two attackers, picked up the dropped sword. She didn't look as she rested the tip of the blade on the chest of the now pleading man and then simply drove it downwards. She felt the briefest of resistance as the blade sliced through flesh and bone alike and Rayne heard his dying breath gurgle in his throat with great satisfaction.

She turned her gaze to the fleeing Jarren just in time to see the hefty rock that flew from the trees hit him in the head. He fell forward in the saddle and rolled off lifeless.

There's more!

'No!' Rayne screamed and ran towards the fallen man, skidding beside him. She cradled his head, feeling the blood trickle through her fingers with a sickening lurch in her guts.

She barely even registered the big man that walked up behind her to crack the pommel of his sword across the back of her head. The world went black and Rayne slumped forward.

----------------------

'Wakey, wakey,' said a gruff voice in the dark.

Rayne cracked her eyes open to see a bright, blurry world and, eventually, the figure standing in front of her came into focus.

He was one of the evillest men she had ever seen. Standing well over six foot, broad and muscular, with a small, tight, black goatee, he towered imperiously above Rayne as she was pulled roughly to her feet. She saw that he held Naiya's belt with her short sword and dagger in one hand. Even when stood, Rayne still had to look up to meet his cold, pale blue eyes, and what she saw there sent a shiver of dread up her spine.

There is no give in this man. I cannot reason or bargain with him. Our fate is sealed.

She quickly took stock of her situation; hands tightly bound in front of her, ankles now with a hobble tie between them and the man who had hauled her up had a sturdy pole that was tied to a noose around her neck. There were men walking from even further down the road towards them and Rayne guessed that they had been there in case one of them had managed to make a run for it. She took it all in, understanding that this was no random ambush by simple robbers.

The big man smiled thinly as he looked down at Rayne.

'I was told not to treat you lightly,' the man said in an almost admiring voice, nodding his head to the line of four bodies laid out in the grass behind him. 'You're an exceptional fighter, girl, truly. Never quite seen anything like it. In another time and place, I could have made use of you.'

Rayne said nothing, instead looking around in vain to find her master. She saw him a little way up the road where he had been struck from his horse by means Rayne still couldn't fathom. Jarren had two men with him and, stumbling with hands bound, he was shoved back towards her. Hearing noise behind her, Rayne struggled to turn and saw Naiya being led, hands bound, by a man with his fist wrapped in her hair. The younger girl looked at Rayne with wide, terrified eyes as she was led before the big man and turned to face Rayne.

'She's a nice little thing, this one,' said the man with a smile that looked like a yellow picket fence. He man smiled sadly, shaking his head. 'Crying shame to waste her, Crew.'

The big man, Crew, said nothing, ignoring him, instead looking at Rayne, seeing the tenseness in her, the rage she couldn't express and the panicking fire that burned in her eyes at what she knew was to follow.

'He should have listened to you, shouldn't he girl?' the big man said mildly and Rayne nodded in understanding at the implications of his words.

'Yes. He should have,' she whispered.

A flick of his eyebrows, a shrug and the big man turned to the groaning, barely conscious Jarren as he was kicked to his knees in the grass.

'Lay out his bedroll, put him on it and unfasten his clothes,' Crew said and the men did so. Lifting the luckless Naiya by her hair again, Crew dragged her to Jarren.

'Stand over him,' he said and, when Naiya had done so, he pushed her down until her legs were splayed across her master's middle and she sat astride him. Crew turned to face Rayne, seeing the tears building in her eyes.

'Please,' she whispered, the grief of anticipation building in her heart as it pounded in her chest. 'Not him, not my master. I beg of you, please. Not him.' Her voice cracked with fear and despair.

'You failed him, Inamorata, but not as much as your friend here. Creatures such as her only ever think of themselves, happy to see a man become his own worst enemy rather than stand up and say what must be said to keep him from harm. She's unworthy of the name and we both know it. She's not even fit to be sport for my men.'

He tugged Naiya's dagger from its scabbard, dropped the belt and remaining sword, yanked her head back by the hair to expose the throat. Naiya gave a pitiful scream of pure terror, and then Crew dragged the edge of the blade hard across her throat. A thick glut of blood sprayed from the gaping wound, spraying Jarren hotly. He cried out then, shocked to his senses and a babble of words spewed from his mouth, begging and pleading.

Crew didn't even pause. He dropped to his knees, letting Naiya fall forward on top of Jarren as he knelt and pulled the short sword free. He stood, gripping it in both hands and pointing it down before plunging it through the dead Naiya and in to Jarren beneath her. He cried out in shock and pain, eyes wide, his head turning to Rayne imploringly.

Rayne wailed a long, low lament of absolute, wretched pain. She felt the blade as it plunged into her master, felt it as surely and keenly as if it had been plunged into her own flesh. Her legs gave out and she dropped to her knees as if felled.

Jarren looked at her with astonished eyes as Crew pushed the blade down as far as he could, until it would go no deeper. He stood, leaving the blade skewering the two together, his eyes devoid of any emotion.

'I'm... sorry... love...' Jarren managed to say as blood bubbled between his lips. Rayne, could only nod, tears running down her cheeks like a river as she watched the man she lived for, the man she was sworn to serve and protect, die before her eyes.

'Bit fucking late for regret now,' Crew said contemptuously, a sneer on his lips as he again walked to Rayne. He motioned for the man holding the pole to lift her to her feet.

'Now... what shall we do about you?' he asked Rayne thoughtfully.

'Kill me,' she said in a dead voice, her eyes red rimmed and burning with white hot hatred.

'Life not worth living now he's gone? Want to join him in the next life? That it?'

Rayne glared at Crew and shrugged. 'Eventually, yes, but not before you lay dead at my feet.'

Crew laughed but a cloud passed over his face as he met Rayne's unblinking gaze.

'Ooh... feisty one. I'd have enjoyed breaking you,' he said but there was a flicker of fear in his words.

'Then try. You and me. Cut my binds and do your worst. You don't even have to give me a sword if you think it'll help,' and there was a dead cold in Rayne's voice.

Crew smiled, his bravado returning as he regained his composure. 'Not today, little one.' He turned to the two men who had brought Jarren over and Rayne saw that one of them had her belt and daggers tucked into the back of his trousers.

'You two, go with him,' and Crew nodded at the one holding Rayne's neck pole. 'Take her well into the woods, where she'll never be found. Bury her deep.'

----------------------

Sunlight lit the forest in shafts as the men pulled the horses to a stop.

'This'll do, I reckon,' said the leader.

Rayne was tied securely in the saddle of her own mount and the men cut the rope before simply shoving her off. She crashed into the damp, leaf covered forest floor.

She lay there quietly, numbed and dead inside, her heart feeling wrenched apart in her chest, and listened to the three men digging her grave. In her head, over and over, she saw Jarren reaching out to her, looking for a salvation that would never come. She heard his last words, saw the fear and pain in his face and then, as she wept softly, saw the light in his eyes dim and then go out once and for all.

'Get her up,' said a voice and Rayne was only vaguely aware of being dragged bodily upright, her legs barely supporting her. Rough hands undid the noose and pole from her neck, there was a shove in the back and she stumbled forwards, losing her footing and tumbling to the pile of earth by the freshly dug hole. Curiously, almost detached from what she saw, Rayne looked into her grave.

You failed him, Inamorata.

She clutched herself then, fingers spread wide over her stomach and remembered.

No, I didn't fail him, Crew. I would have given him the one thing he wanted more than anything else if you'd not taken him from me. I didn't fail him.

Calm settled over her like a blanket, warming her blood as she felt it course through her veins. Rayne felt dead inside, hollow and empty and almost barren. Almost.

There is still life in me.

And on the heels of that;

This is not over yet and nor am I.

And she knew what she had to do.

She rolled upright then, a wicked grin on her face, hooded eyes regarding the three men who stood around her with a lust the like of which they'd never seen before.

She played her eyes over them one by one and, as she did, let her knees splay apart, opening her legs as far as the rope between her ankles would allow. The men gave her their full attention as Rayne pushed her bound hands between creamy, smooth thighs.