by Diana Flame
“You’ve never been kissed, have you?”
“You scalawag!” she quipped. “How could you kiss me when we don’t know each other?”
“I was only saying thank you for saving my life.”
“ARGH!”
Catrain was confused. She knew she needed to leave, but somehow she could not move. Her heart had refused to still and her body was blistering from him touching her. Still, she was angry with him for whatever reason. He moved again and she stepped back.
Her back hit a tree and the knight took the opportunity to trap her. What now? Would he ravage her like this? What should she do?
“I thought you weren’t scared of me,” he grinned. “The last time we met by the river, you were quite fearless.”
His words gave her courage and she replied evenly. “I am not scared of you, you cad.”
“The name’s Rulf, not cad,” he casually replied.
“Goodnight Rulf,” Catrain grinned as her knee came up, but the green night was quick and sidestepped her attack.
“You’re feisty,” he chuckled. “Now go on before nightfall.”
Another surprising feeling came over her as she turned away. Somehow, she felt disappointed or sad that the encounter was over and he’d dismissed her. Perhaps he sensed this in her because he gripped her arm again and turned her to face him.
“What now?” she asked.
“A goodnight kiss,” he whispered, pulling to him again.
Catrain was getting annoyed with him always pulling her like that. One arm circled her waist while the other cupped the back of her head. She was held captive as he stole another kiss. His tongue found hers in a searing caress. When he let go, her knees almost buckled beneath her.
She was still standing staring after him when he whistled and his stallion came bounding into view. She hadn’t moved when he mounted his steed and rode off into the forest.
With her hand to her lips, she savored the myriad of emotions coursing through her. Everything had happened all so quickly that she thought it was a dream. In a daze, she took the path home.
Catrain was out of the forest and in the fields near the village when a lone horseman descended upon her. She’d been preoccupied with her encounter with Rulf that before she could get a handle on the situation, the horseman swept her off her feet, settling her face-down across his saddle. The horse galloped away before she recovered from the shock.
Screaming and protesting, Catrain tried to free herself but to no avail. After riding for some time, the galloping horse came to a halt where she tried to detangle herself from her captor’s grasp. The man’s strong grip pinned her to the horse. Someone tied a piece of cloth across her mouth to muffle her cries for help.
Still lying across the saddle, she could not see her captor’s face, but she saw that the boot of him on the horse and knew he was a soldier. At least she thought he was, as uncertainty and dread assailed her. Her captor could very well be a rebel in disguise. Just that day, they had tried to take her. It must be the rebels, she concluded.
A dark cloth covered her face, while they sat her upright in the saddle. It seemed there were more of them at this location as someone bound her hands while another held her from struggling free.
Someone seated himself behind her, pinning her body to his. His hands came around her to grip the reins of the horse. This was her opportunity. Bucking her head back, she met with something hard – it must have been his forehead. The man behind her cried out in pain.
She did it again, but he must have been prepared for her. The horse was now galloping at a speed and as she reared her head, hoping to smack his face, she met air as his bodyweight shifted with the movement of the horse. Catrain almost tumbled from the animal.
“Keep still, or we will both fall,” he whispered, his lips brushing her ear.
The most chilling feeling ran over her as goosebumps appeared in her skin. It was also a million tiny insects crawled over her that she felt icky, wanting nothing more than to take another bath.
Twisting her body, she tried to buck him head on. With the horse moving at such a speed, her hands bound behind her, it was awkward. She ended up pulling on a muscle in her back.
“Ouch,” she groaned, her cry muffled by the gag.
They rode for a while, then stopped once to water the horses. Her instincts had been right that there were more men there because she could hear them speaking in low tones.
When they crossed the river, she was aware of that too. She’d crossed it enough times to know. Her captor never left her. With her back resting against him, she could tell he was hard and strong. His muscled thighs constantly bulged against hers as they rode. At first, she had believed it to be Rulf, but as they journeyed further, she was certain it wasn’t. Something about the way Rulf had held her was different from this man. Though he was gentle, she didn’t feel the warmth in him the way she had with Rulf. In addition, Rulf’s shoulders were broader, judging from the breadth of the shoulders to her back.
They slowed. A loud click ensued followed by a screech. The drawbridge? From the descriptions she’d heard of the city entrances, she reached such a conclusion. That only meant that she was abducted by the king’s soldiers and not the rebels. Unless of course the rebels had won the battle and invaded the castle! No, Catrain, that can’t be.
If that was the case, that would mean that the Fire Knight was dead. No … I just saw him. He just kissed me! Many thoughts assailed her as she pondered her fate. What would become of Cronada and the king? What would the Gerdanians do with the people and the land?
The horses came to a halt and her abductor dismounted before lifting her from her perch. He was surprisingly gentle unlike those that had gagged and bound her. Still, he was not as gentle as Rulf had been with her.
A nudge at her back indicated that she move along. What she wished for was to run, but with her hands bound and her face covered it was useless trying. Hands gripped her upper arm, guiding her toward her doom, she believed. If she could only see where she was going she could make her escape, but they kept the cloth over her face.
They paused. There was the sound of a click, which Catrain believed to be the opening of a door. Her captor shoved her, causing her to stumble forward. The door snapped behind them as he pulled the cloth from her. She blinked, trying to adjust to the light of the room – or rather cell.
“If you scream no one will hear you,” he warned untying the cloth at her mouth. “You are in the farthest wing, the tower of the castle reserved for royal prisoners.”
Catrain stared at the man in a soldier’s attire. Was he really a Cronadian soldier? Why was she a prisoner? Was she imprisoned because she slapped the Fire Knight? He didn’t seem upset with her. He even kissed her goodnight. She reached her hand up to touch her lips, but she was still bound.
While he stared at her as though she from another world, she decided it was her chance. Charging forward like a bull, Catrain went heading into the soldier. Her head met hands and they grabbed her and held her off.
She would not give up without a fight. Her hands were still bound, but not her feet. She kicked at him, her eyes wide and her nostrils flaring.
“Let me go!” she shrieked.
The soldier grabbed her from behind and held her fast against him.
“Calm down. I wont hurt you,” he said. “If you continue to fight you will get hurt.”
Tried as she might, she was unable to wrangle free. Her breathing was now labored as she had worked herself up into a frenzy.
“Stay still and I promise to untie you.”
He untied her and she rubbed her wrists, waiting for another opportunity to strike. As he loosed her bonds several others came into the room and held her arms, preventing her from moving. Taking note of the one before her, she registered his brown hair and matching eyes. Her suspicion that he was a rebel in disguise was dispelled when she recalled seeing him in the village about a month earlier about the same time that Rulf was injured.
He was with the group sent by the king to encourage the women to come serve the foreign soldiers. About a dozen soldiers now stood in the cell. They all ogled her as though she was some peculiar specie. Catrain snarled at them and they laughed. She lunged at the closest one and three held her back.
“You will get hurt,” the one who had loosed her said. “Behave and we will not hurt you or your father.”
“I will break your neck if you hurt my father!” she tried to shrug off her captors but they were strong. “LET ME GO!”
“We can’t do that,” he said. “We have orders. You will be free soon, so stay quiet.”
Looking around the room, she tried to figure how to make her escape as more blocked the door. If she had a weapon, it would be easy. The soldiers were not wearing their swords and that was a shame. She could have easily borrowed one of theirs. The room was empty except for a small cot and a tiny table. There was nothing there she could use as weapon unless she broke the table.
It was time she changed her tactics. Slumping her shoulders, she exhaled a calming breath. She softened her face as she looked with doe eyes upon the main culprit.
“Set me free, I beg of you,” she pleaded.
It was a mistake letting down her guard and pleading with them. She should have fought to the death. One by one, they filed out without response, latching the door behind them. The room was cold and damp. As the night casted its blackness over the Cronadian Kingdom, with it came chilled winds from the Sea of Zunzt from southwest coast.
Beating the door was her only option to keep warm. The chilled winds bit into her so she kept at it, hoping her movements would warm her blood.
“Set me free you villains!” she yelled, her anger rising. “Set me free or face my wrath.”
Banging the door did warm her until moisture dampened her face. Moist tendrils of her golden locks pressed to her cheeks and neck. Her hands stung while her shoulders ached as exhaustion basseted her. She must have been at it a long time since her voice had started crack.
“Set me free!” she cried, her voice a hoarse whisper.
Exhausted, her fist hit the door one last time as she slid to the floor out of breath. She must have fallen asleep there because she was awakened by voices outside the door.
“What have you done Frederick! She was to be left alone.” Someone said.
“Prime Minister Cronus commanded it,” her captor replied.
She knew his voice because he had spoken to her before leaving her cell. Frederick. She made a note of it that she would remember to pay him back for doing this to her.
“Prime Minister Cronus is not your commander, you have no reason to obey him,” the other soldier replied.
“Prime Minister Cronus is my commander,” Frederick said.
The sound of a thwap was loud enough for her to know that someone was hit. The sound was followed by a whimper and a thud. Catrain wondered who fell. Was it Frederick? Would she be free now?
The door began to open and Catrain closed her eyes, lying quite still. She had to be careful as she wasn’t certain which soldier had been hit outside the door. Strong arms reached under her, lifting her to the bed. A cover was thrown over her and a hand touched her hair.
“Your hair is so golden, I am yet to figure out the color of your eyes. You are truly beautiful, netherbred,” she heard him whisper.
Disappointment churned inside her at the voice. It was Frederick. Rulf, where are you? Her mind screamed. If he knew she was a prisoner in the palace, would he rescue her? Maybe not. Perhaps he knew about this order by the Prime Minister.
Frederick left, returning a few minutes later with bread, stew and an apple. After placing them on the tiny table, he was gone, latching the door from the outside. Catrain sat up. She’d missed her dinner and was starving, but she would never touch their food.
Standing on the cot, she peered out the small window. She was indeed in the far tower of the palace. There was no way down unless she wanted to make dinner for the vultures.
“I wish I was Rapunzel,” she murmured, slumping back on the tiny bed.
Worry lines creased Merek’s forehead as he and Brogue trekked the river as well as the forest in search of Catrain. He’d waited for her the way he had done every evening after the day’s work in the fields. Like every day, he paced the yard ready to scold her for disobeying him and going upstream. He knew she was wayward and she believed she was safe. Although he’d taught her to use the sword and the ways of a warrior, she was still no match for the Gerdanian and Cronadian soldiers.
Brogue armed himself with a bow, slinging his quiver of arrows across his back. Merek, a master swordsman, latched the belt around his hips and secured his weapon. Holding torches high above the head, they searched the nearby fields first before venturing upstream.
“If those rebels arm my daughter, I will cut them all to pieces.” Merek’s voice betrayed the hatred he felt for the enemy soldiers.
Brogue growled. “I am with you brother. Those darn rebels will taste of my wrath!”
However, at the back of Merek’s mind, it wasn’t the rebels he feared most. Since the last month that the foreign soldiers arrived to join forces with the Cronadian soldiers, they sought the women from the villages. His deepest fear was that they had taken her. He knew that once Catrain entered the Kingdom City walls, she would not return.
The warning had come many years before from the lips of the one people feared the most - Esmerelda, Keeper of the Seven Kingdoms. He recalled the witch’s words, “Your greatest joy will one day become your ultimate sorrow. The day will come when the child you so adore will be gone from your sight, unreachable and untouchable.”
He knew what the witch had said was the truth and he’d tried to shield his daughter from such a day. It was inevitable as foretold by the greatest seer in all of the kingdom.
“What is that?” Brogue’s voice broke through Merek’s reverie.
“What?” he asked.
Brogue pointed with the torch over by a band of trees, they’d crossed the river and was standing on the king’s land at the edge of the forest. Merek casted his eyes in the direction in which Brogue shone the torch. Against a tree were three rebels tied together, unmoving.
“They be dead I think,” Brogue declared.
Merek moved close to the rebels, crouching. “Nay,” he said. “They lost plenty of blood though. This one seems to be just unconscious, just a gash on the jaw.”
“Let them be Merek,” Brogue said. “We have to find my niece.”
Merek nodded. “You think Catrain did this?”
“Did she travel with a sword?”
Merek shook his head. “Nay, her sword still hangs on the wall.”
“What if the ones who did this took her?” Brogue asked.
“That means she was taken by our soldiers.”
Weak to the knees, Merek stood to his feet and pushed forward, refusing to believe what his gut told him. Brogue followed as they searched deep inside the forest. Every crevice, behind every tree, inside every ravine was searched. No sign of Catrain.
When the first cries of the following day’s battle sounded across the valley, Merek called off the search.
“I will seek the help of the one whose life we saved,” he told Brogue.
“Are you certain he wasn’t the one who took her?”
“I don’t think he knows her value to that place, Brogue.”
Brogue frowned. “What if he’d seen the necklace? He may figure it out.”
“Nay,” Merek replied, shaking the head. “Only those much older would know its meaning. That lad wont know it.”
“I hope so.”
“Let us hope she is hidden somewhere and will return soon.”
Merek turned to his brother. “When you go to the market today, keep your ears to the ground for any word.”
“Shouldn’t we search the mountains too?”
Catrain’s father shook his head. “I know in my gut she’s in the castle.”
<
br /> “How will we get her?” Brogue asked.
“If the knight can rescue her before they reveal all. That would be best.”
“If not?”
“Then they will come fetch me.”
Brogue snickered, “You mean you will allow them to fetch you.”
* * *
Rulf reined in Osorus and scanned the river. This was her favorite spot, he remembered. The sun was almost set and there was no sign of her. Three days he’d come and she didn’t show. He’d ridden up and down the river bank, gone down stream and now stood in the spot she swam the first day he saw her.
Did the rebels scare her? Shaking his head, he decided that not even the rebels would scare her into not coming to fetch her pail of water and take a wash. She’d faced him unwavering that first day. When the rebels had accosted her, she’d used the sword like a trained warrior.
“No, she is not easily frightened.”
Rulf dismounted and slapped the rump of his steed. An hour was left before it would be dark. He’d been searching the riverbank for hours and still no sign of her. Now he sat, staring at the pool, recalling her naked body as she bathed in it. The setting sun had set her skin aglow and some jewel she wore on a string glistened from the sunlight. Something about the stone was familiar but he could not place it. He pushed the jewel from his mind and pondered her absence.
“Why hasn’t she come?” he muttered.
Something in his gut told him that she was in danger.
Agitated with his obsession of her, Rulf kicked a dry twig. Somewhere inside he was at war. His mind and heart were going in two opposite directions. Without realizing, he whistled for Osorus. The horse came bounding through the trees, coming to a halt directly in front of him.
“Come boy,” he murmured, patting the horse’s head.
As soon as he mounted, Osorus turned his nose in the direction of the village and galloped away. It was as though he sensed Rulf’s inner desires to be there. An invisible force pulled both man and beast.
“No, I should head back to the palace,” he told himself, trying to repudiate the thundering of his heart as he neared Catrain’s house. “The king needs me!”
