“That’s what he gets for going easy on you,” Jackson said. “If I were him, I would have put you in charge of the main assault force and sent myself out on the scouting mission.”
“Are you saying I should promote you to field commander?’
Jackson laughed. “Not likely. Don’t get me wrong, Lady Bethany. I’m happy for the extra pay I’m getting as an apprentice and having the prostitutes teach me to read has turned out to be an interesting arrangement.”
Bethany snorted.
“But there’s no way, at my age, I’m interested in field command.”
“You’re not as young as you used to be. Your knees might not give you a choice.” Bethany thrust the pike into the ground. Using her free hand, she pushed against the small of her back. She stretched, wincing as she did. Her broken back had healed, but never quite right. It ached whenever she exerted herself. Sitting at a desk for months had done nothing to help.
“Speaking of someone not as young as they used to be…” Jackson said, grinning.
“Don’t make me demote you,” Bethany snapped back, though she was smiling.
The others of their team began to gather in. There were fifteen of them left, including Bethany and Jackson. She didn’t know all their names, though she recognized a few faces.
She pulled the pike out of the ground and thrust it at a young human man. “It’s Whiteriver, right?”
The man nodded and took the bloodied weapon. “Right, Lady Bethany.”
“Put that with the rest.”
“Yes, Lady Bethany.”
“Thanks.”
She picked up the hem of her tabard and cleaned the first layer of blood off her sword. She tried to keep the stains on the blue section of fabric, but the white was already well-splattered.
“You can tell some fool sitting in Wyllow decided on blue and white as official colours of Apexia,” she said.
Jackson snorted. “The laundry maids must hate you.”
“I’m sure they do.” She put her sword back into its harness and took off her helmet. Sweat, blood, and dirt all dripped into her eyes, making them sting. She rubbed them with an equally dirty hand. She stretched her neck from side to side, the muscles popping, then she put her helmet back on. “Any civilians in this mess?”
“Don’t think so,” Jonas said. He was a young human, barely into manhood. He’d asked to stay with the army and not return to the fields, as he was a city boy and had no real home to go back to.
“There were a couple of kids over by the trees there. Both were armed and had those stupid amulets that make them disappear. Guessing Magi,” Jackson said.
“Fucking kids,” Bethany spat.
“Better them than us, right?” Jonas said.
Jackson spat. “I never feel less of a man than when I have to kill kids.”
Bethany nodded in agreement. “Fucking butchers.”
“Like we don’t have enough shit for our nightmares.”
Bethany grunted. “Alright, everyone. We’re two days overdue at Erem’s camp. We need to get back, because I’m sure there are search parties already looking for us.”
Jackson wiped his gore-splattered sword against his pant leg. “You think so?”
Bethany laughed. “The daughter of Apexia is overdue reporting back from her first mission in months. I’m surprised Allric hasn’t marched the entire army over here to look for me.”
“Sorry, Lady Bethany,” Jackson said sheepishly. “I forgot.”
A wide grin stretched across her face. “You forgot I was the daughter of Apexia? That’s the first bit of good news I’ve heard in months.”
“That’s…that’s really sad, Lady Bethany,” Jonas said. “If you don’t mind me saying.”
“Pathetic, even,” Jackson agreed.
Bethany snorted. “I lead a pathetic and sad life.”
“On the hill!” Lady Kia shouted. “Lady Bethany! On the hill!”
Bethany whipped her head round in time to see the glowing horizon blotted out by cavalry. She’d begun to tug her spyglass from its holster on her belt when an explosion blasted the nearby trees. Flames licked up the damp trees, and Bethany looked away to protect her eyes. The morning air filled with the sound of charging hooves.
“Let’s move!” Bethany ordered.
Bethany reached her horse and climbed into the saddle. As the others mounted theirs, Bethany began shouting orders. “River Archibald Watchtower is the closest help! Go south-west. That way!” She pointed. “Lead them away from the farms as best as you can. No matter what, get to the watchtower and warn them.” She kicked her horse and galloped off.
Days of dodging Magi had weakened them. They were hungry and exhausted. They’d been up most of the night getting to this camp. And then there was the skirmish itself; a fight can take a lot out of even a well-rested, practiced individual.
Arrows rained down and one struck Bethany’s horse on its protected flank. The arrow didn’t penetrate, but it was enough to frighten the beast. Her horse reared up and threw her. Bethany landed with a bone-shattering thud that she felt everywhere. Her horse bolted, as did several others. Bethany instinctively covered her head with her hands and tucked her legs in to protect her vitals. When the volley was over and no hooves had hit her, Bethany jumped to her feet and began running.
Her thighs burned as she sprinted in full armour through the morning mud. She had to reach her horse, or she’d be dead in minutes. The others were galloping toward the watchtower; she’d given an order for them to go and they wouldn’t turn back. This was a sizeable force and the watchtower needed to be warned. That was more important than her life.
The air shimmered and a woman appeared in front of Bethany, startling her. Bethany couldn’t stop her lung-crushing sprint and slammed into the woman and her mad, grinning expression. Bethany was in full mail and the woman standing still; the full force of Bethany’s charge knocked her over, while Bethany stumbled but kept her footing. She left the woman and ran for the trees, where her horse had headed, and where it would be easier to outwit both horse and foot, arrow and sword.
Her lungs screamed for mercy, but she didn’t listen. She began coughing; her body demanded she stop or risk passing out. Bethany just held her breath until her lungs forced her to suck in a hacking, heaving breath. She kept going. She hit a mud puddle at the wrong angle and her ankle jerked. She ignored the pain and picked up the pace as best as she could, the pounding of horses behind her growing louder.
She didn’t dare look and waste precious seconds. Her head was light from the exertion. Stars splattered her vision. Her ankle cried out in pain. Her lungs, dear sweet Goddess, threatened to collapse. Every muscle in her body ached. She didn’t stop.
Further ahead, Bethany’s horse trotted into the trees, a hundred feet or so down a short embankment.
Behind her, the charge of hooves grew closer. If she didn’t make it, she was dead.
“Bethany!”
A horse appeared in her vision and it slowed to match her pace. Jackson reached down a gloved hand and she slapped hers into it. He pulled her onto the horse’s back.
She grabbed his sides as they leaned into the horse’s renewed gallop. She looked behind them. The cavalry was spreading out, combing the area, but the bulk of riders were still set down the middle, aimed at them.
“Go!” She screamed at the horse and Jackson.
Jackson kicked the horse’s flanks and they rushed down to the gully ahead, cleared it, and back on to the rolling fields. “How far?”
“Don’t know!” Bethany shouted over the horse’s laboured breath and pounding hooves. “Ten miles?”
“The horse can’t keep this up!”
Bethany agreed. Plus, the beast was carrying two of them, both in armour. Likewise, the horse was carrying its own partial barding, though more of it was made of padded leather than plate or mail.
“Swing into the trees! We can cut through and try for Erem’s camp,” Bethany ordered.
“Yes
, Lady Bethany,” Jackson said and slowed the pace enough to redirect the horse, swinging them north.
Further to the south, Bethany could make out four or five horses. They were all spread out, but all heading in the same general direction of the river’s garrison. One of the riders was wearing a blue coat: that was Ward, one of the human militia. She had to trust they’d make it and get word to the watchtower.
Then the stomach-wrenching feeling of falling. They both cried out as they fell to the ground. The blinding pain of hitting her head on the rocky ground. The agonized cry of Jackson as the horse landed on him.
The world turned hazy.
****
Scorching flames spread over Bethany’s body. She bucked and writhed, her muscles and skin crying out for the pain to stop. It stole her breath and all she could do was gasp as the molten lead poured down over her face, trickling down to her ears, before drip-drip-dripping off her earlobes. It puddled at the base of her neck, seeping into her clothes and sending spine-shivering agony down her back.
“Stop,” Bethany choked out. “Stop!”
Her pleas were met with laughter as she gained her mental footing once more. This was the third time they’d done this to her. The searing pain continued until enough strength returned to Bethany for her to scream in unabashed agony.
She opened her eyes, projecting every bit of hate she possessed against her captor. “Are you finished yet?” She knew her voice was raw and weak, but she pushed as much defiance as she could into the words.
“I have your name now, whore. Lady Bethany, is it?” the man said. He was mostly toothless and smelled of piss and shit, some of it horse and some probably his own. “You’re a tough little bitch, I’ll give you that. I had to beat you unconscious before anyone would tell me your name.”
Bethany rolled her eyes. In her ragged voice, she asked, “Can anyone in Taftlin think of a better word for women they don’t like than whore? Or is your vocabulary limited to one-syllable words?”
He punched her in the guts, stealing her breath. She rolled on the ground, gasping for air; the act made all the more difficult by her hands and feet being tied together behind her back. Her captor grabbed her by the front of her armour and said, “Listen here, missy. You’re still alive only because the commander said to take officers prisoner, and you look liked an officer. Now I know you are. So start talking, or else we’ll have to try other more pleasant methods.” He laughed. “At least for me.”
Bethany sneered at him. Alluding to and threatening rape—and downright doing it—was standard practice when tortured by undisciplined scum who had no concept of the type of training Silver Knights went through to prepare for these very situations. His threats were laughable and she didn’t let it add to her stress. Besides, she’d be able to break his neck long before he managed to get her out of the multiple layers of gear she wearing. And then they’d beat her to within a sliver of her life and forget all about raping her. And then they’d waste even more of their healing oil to keep her alive, because dead people can’t tell you things.
They wanted her alive, too. That much was obvious, as she’d been beaten several times now and then healed back to a state where she was conscious enough to be beaten all over again. She knew it was healing oil because her body had violently reacted the same way when Lendra used it to repair Bethany’s broken back. Even though her own Power was missing, she was still the daughter of a goddess. The Magic in the oil did not like the Power in Bethany’s blood. She had no idea how much her body could take, both of the beatings and of the oil they poured on her.
“You’re just a frail little girl,” the man said. “Look at you. Your armour is too big for you. I’d break you in half if I thought I could get away with it.”
Bethany sneered. She was an Elorian, for fuck’s sake. Even a half-elven woman was stronger than most humans. Factoring in her training and experience, plus her height, made his little speech all the more pathetic.
She caught sight of Jonas, crumpled on the ground near the fire pit. He was awake, after having taken a vicious beating intended to soften her up. They mistook her gender for a weakness and thought beating one of the men under her command would make her whistle and sing whatever they needed to know.
They were messing with the wrong woman.
Bethany had to keep the man talking this time so she could work the knots. The ropes tied around her wrists were too tight for her to manage without help, however, the main knot attaching her ankles to her wrists was loose from all her struggles and writhing. She needed another minute, maybe two.
“What do you want from me?” Bethany asked, working the knot.
He kicked her shins this time. “I ask the questions.”
“Maybe you should get around to doing that.”
“Shut your hole, whore!”
Another kick, this time to her feet, which probably hurt him more than her.
She looked at Jackson, whose cold stare was on the heavily-armed guard nearest him. Jackson was obviously going to rush him at the first opportunity. Kia’s eyes were wide from shock, as were the others’. They were all inexperienced, that much had been obvious the entire mission. Jonas had some fight under his belt, though he would need to be carried out of here.
Wherever here was.
It was dark outside out and she could hear the ocean in the distance. She vaguely remembered daylight a few times but… of course. The water they’d offered her after her first beating was drugged. She should have known.
Horses approached: from the sounds of it, several dozen at least. With her attacker’s attention drawn way from her, Bethany readjusted her position. She arched her torso back as much as possible without being obvious, which provided more slack in the rope to work. There was some chatter that Bethany couldn’t make out, but she could guess the context. One of the knots slackened and Bethany readjusted herself to keep up the task.
A few moments later, another human man approached her. He was a burly man, with a tangled beard, and…
Bethany’s eyes widen. She knew that man.
“Robert.” Bethany spat on the ground.
“Lady Bethany,” he said, smiling. “You really do look like my wife.”
“Fuck you, beast,” she snarled. Another knot loosened.
Robert laughed. “Yeah, that’s Sarissa’s sister all right. Why did you bring the others?”
The man shrugged. “Why not?”
“Fair enough,” Robert said. He looked down at Bethany. “Well, my darling, I’m rather excited to see you.”
“Fuck you,” Bethany replied. “Rapist.”
“I am,” Robert said, smiling. “Don’t forget it.”
He ground the toe of his boot into her crotch. Which was the opening she was waiting for. The rope connecting her hands and feet gave way and Bethany rolled onto her back. She returned Robert’s insult by kicking him square in the crotch with both feet. Robert doubled over in pain, a steady stream of curses spewing from his mouth.
Hands tied behind her back or not, Bethany was an Elorian. That automatically made her stronger than most humans. Add to that her training and experience, and it would take several men to drop her. With Bethany’s escape, a lot of things happened at once.
Bethany rolled twice to get out of the way of the first attacker’s kick, all the while kicking away the rope from around her ankles. She knew she’d never be able to get her tied hands out in front of her while still in her armour and with only seconds to spare, so she didn’t bother trying. She managed an ungraceful hop to her feet and rushed Robert.
Jackson and Kia rushed the guard he’d been eyeing and toppled him. Bethany tackled Robert with her shoulder and elbow out, hitting him in the torso. Robert tried to grab her by the hair, but she had so little hair that it slipped through his dirty fingers. Bethany wriggled away enough that his hand passed in front of her face and she clamped down hard. Grime and filth filled her mouth and, a moment later, blood, but Bethany held on.
Bethany
’s bound hands protected her kidneys from Robert’s punishing blows and she pulled in as close to him as possible to make it even harder for him to hit her effectively. The rope was still tangled around her ankles, but no longer binding them together, and she held a firm stance. She slammed her head into his nose twice until she was rewarded with a wet snap of bone and blood. Robert roared, which just made Bethany hit him again with her head.
The torturer punched Bethany and she kicked him. Jackson and Kia, both tied together, plowed into him, and all five fell to the ground. They scrambled and fought.
Bethany grabbed a knife that had fallen and tried desperately to cut through the ropes without slashing her wrists. Another man came at her with a sword, and she scurried out of the way as best as she could, still cutting. The ropes gave way and Bethany pulled her hands apart, the mass of knots and ropes still tied around one of her wrists.
She grabbed a shield and defended against the strikes of the man’s attack.
“Marcus, stop!” Robert boomed.
They all stopped. Bethany was crouching on the ground, ankles unbound but now tangled in rope, her hands free and holding a shield. Jackson and Kia had wrapped their bindings around a guard’s throat and were close to choking him out. Jonas was pretty much in the same place she’d last seen him.
Whiteriver was in Robert’s grasp, sword to his throat. “Lady Bethany, call off your people or I will slit all of their throats. Starting with this one.”
“What are your orders?” Bethany demanded. “I assume prisoners of rank.”
Robert twitched his head.
“Well, you have a problem. They don’t get much higher than myself, and I’m sure Sarissa dearest would love to have me at her fingertips.”
Robert grunted.
“If you slit that boy’s throat, I can promise you I will not live along enough to get to Sarissa’s camp, because I will fight you. If you try to rape me, I’ll snap your neck with my fucking thighs if I have to. And if you shove your filthy dick into my mouth, I will rip it off and swallow it whole. If you beat me, I’ll slam my head against the rocks until I crush my skull in. I will do everything I can to push you so that, eventually, one of you snaps and kills me.” Bethany grinned. “I’m sure Sarissa won’t like that.”
Fury (Tranquility Book 3) Page 12
