She was sorry Monica wasn’t there to analyze everything and give her feedback—for about two seconds. Then she realized that was an awful thing to wish upon her friend!
Then she began to worry about her own situation again and to worry and wonder if Monica had managed to make it back to the colony.
It was a useless exercise and just plain scary besides.
It might have taken a supreme effort to tear her mind away, however, except that they were hailed from somewhere above them and that brought her attention instantly back to her surroundings.
She discovered that they were nearing a gate of some kind. It looked like a gate that had simply been set in an opening between two towering stones—part of the mountain pass they were on. Then she realized that there was a wooden bridge in front of it and that the stones were too regular to be natural.
They were nearing a constructed structure of some kind.
It looked a lot like the ancient stone Earth fortresses that had been built during the dark ages.
Her belly instantly knotted with fear.
Apparently, her tension immediately communicated itself to her captor. His arm tightened around her. “My intent is not to cause harm,” he said in a low, rumbling voice.
It was almost reassuring, but there was a voice in the back of her mind screaming, ‘Don’t believe him! He captured you, didn’t he?’
* * * *
Drak was thoughtful after he had heard the conversation between his captive, Noelle, and the village woman. Primarily, he was struggling to envision the sort of world she had come from. He kept picturing scenes from his childhood when his mother had been alive, but she had never been completely resigned to staying on Aiper with his father, let alone glad to. She certainly had not wanted to be chosen by his father!
His father had taken a sort of perverse satisfaction in that fact and spoken often and fondly of how hard she had fought him. She had been a warrior and had damned near skewered him. It had taken considerable skill on his part to subdue her even enough to bestow the mating kiss needed to claim her.
For his part, he had always found that necessity distasteful. It was a necessary evil—and something the women of K’naiper expected. They would make damned sure the male was worthy of reproducing before they would allow his seed near their own by fighting with the last ounce of their strength to prevent the mating.
But he had known how his mother felt about it and he had imagined each time he took a woman that that woman had felt as his mother had—that he was a necessary evil in order for her to produce strong off-spring that she could take joy in.
The mothers of his sons had hated him.
His mother had taken joy in him, had looked upon his every achievement with pride. She had smiled at him with love. She had even, once upon a time in his dimmest memories, soothed his hurts with a gentle touch, comforted him with arms that held him and made him feel safe.
All he had been able to see—or to think about—when he had taken women to assuage his manly needs and breed heirs for him was that they hated him and every moment of it. They endured only for the sake of capturing his seed.
That was a good part of the reason he only had three sons. He did not always take part in the chase. He always led the raids but, as often as not, he focused on overseeing the collection of needed supplies rather than claiming a woman. And when he claimed a woman he did not always give her his seed. It might not be as satisfying to withdraw before he had spilled his seed, but it ensured he was not overrun with heirs.
And he only had three sons to hate him for taking them from their mother to teach them what was expected of them as his off-spring.
And yet Noelle claimed that she had chosen to be with the men of her tribe.
Did that mean that Noelle would accept staying—supposing he wanted her to? Did it mean there was some possibility of convincing her to shift her allegiance to him?
Or did it mean there was no chance at all of anything of the sort? Did it mean she had given her allegiance to some male in her own village and would fight him at every turn?
* * * *
The fortress bore a striking resemblance to what Noelle recalled of the design of the ancient castles on Earth. But then again they had been built by people with virtually the same physical characteristics—just mammothly scaled—and the purpose was undoubtedly much the same, as well. All things considered, it shouldn’t have been a great surprise that it was so similar in design.
Despite the frigid temperatures, they were greeted by a startling number of men once they’d been allowed inside the gates. It became abundantly clear almost at once that the man who’d identified himself as Drak, Prince of Alvarone clearly hadn’t been exaggerating his importance but rather downplaying it.
Uneasiness slithered through her as memories flashed through her mind of behaving as if she was his equal or even superior! She was lucky she’d lived this long!
Not that she’d ever had the chance to rub elbows with anyone of political significance or wealth and privilege, but she knew the psychology of those kinds of people. There were always exceptions to every rule, but, in a general way, they tended to be megalomaniacs—relishing power purely for the sake of subjugating all the people around them. They were narcissistic and inclined to become violent and vindictive toward anyone who didn’t give them ‘their just due’.
She considered that thoughtfully as the Prince dismounted and then reached up to help her down.
So maybe, despite his position of importance, this man wasn’t extreme in those personality traits?
Surely he would’ve behaved hostilely toward her if he had been?
He had seemed to get angry when she’d responded sarcastically, but then most anyone took exception to sarcasm. That certainly wasn’t proof that he was a … tyrant. And the men who’d come out to meet them seemed to be genuinely pleased to see their leader had returned in one piece.
She didn’t get a lot of chance to observe. She never actually touched the frozen ground. Drak tossed her across his shoulder like a sack of grain and jogged inside with her. She managed to push the fur back far enough to get a little peek as they entered the main area of the fortress. Here again, she saw strong echoes of what she recalled of medieval Earth. The main door seemed to open into a short hallway and that opened into an enormous room that seemed to be a general gathering area—and actually a general living area. There were tables pushed against the wall and benches and rolls of what looked like bedding materials. There two enormous open fire places and a fire in both—and spits being turned in both that had huge chunks of blackened meat on them.
The smells were enough to knock her socks off!
The first impression that the place was really warm was banished very quickly. The walls blocked the gales of wind whipping through the courtyard outside, but there were still breezes finding their way in that were strong enough to ruffle clothing and hair when it puffed in.
That made her wonder just how horrific the smells would be if not for the excess ventilation the place boasted.
The smell of urine was in the air—and dung. She hoped that was from the animals roaming the great hall—the four legged ones rather than the two legged ones. She supposed the beasts were used to hunt other beasts. They were hideously ugly things to her mind, almost like a cross between a cat and a dog and unflattering to both.
There was a wet/unwashed beast smell emanating from all of the furs brought in from outside as they began to thaw—and probably clinging to everyone from the animals they’d ridden for that matter.
The smell of burning wood and roasting beast were the only things she smelled that weren’t offensive. Those permeated the area and were almost enough to overwhelm the stench of the place with something far more pleasant—but not quite.
Noelle’s stomach growled in spite of the eye-burning fumes of stink—because she hadn’t eaten anything since she’d been captured and not much for days before that. Her stomach might be roiling over the
unpleasant odors, but it had still picked out the smell of cooking food!
“Han!” her captor bellowed, loud enough she jerked all over in reaction. “Bring me food! And get some people and clean this stinking mess up down here! It smells worse than the stables!”
Amen brother Ben!
Not that she’d actually been in the stables, but she couldn’t imagine them smelling worse!
Chapter Six
Noelle was able to clear her mind of everything but impending doom by the time they were halfway between the great hall and the Prince’s suite. Even the distraction of a growling stomach wasn’t enough to focus her mind away from the ‘forced seduction’ she knew was looming before her. Not that she expected a lot of seduction or she had any intention of fighting and making him force her!
She didn’t have a great deal of personal experience with men bent on ‘seduction’, but she knew from sex class that it could be a very tricky proposition even with a man one knew reasonably well who was constricted by the same laws, customs, and moral values. If none of those things were true, all expectation of matching her behavior to the psychology she needed for survival went out the window.
Nothing she’d learned about dealing with human men of Earth was likely to do her a hell of a lot of good here.
Because they were savages beyond all the other things that didn’t match.
Which, unfortunately, brought her mind to other things that might create a real situation if they didn’t match!
Because however unreasonable it might seem that they might not be physically compatible in the right places when everything else seemed to match up, nature could be truly contrary!
What if the males carried the young? Would he have a socket instead of a plug? More importantly, how pissed off and nasty would he get if they discovered there was a physical incompatibility problem?
Of course, it would be completely unreasonable to blame her for that, but could one really count on a savage being reasonable?
He set her on her feet once they reached his suite of rooms.
If he’d stood her on a block of ice, she didn’t think it would’ve been colder than the stone floor! Sucking in a sharp breath at the shock, she looked around for any source of heat.
There was a fireplace across the room but no fire burning. And nothing to burn that she could see, for that matter.
Realizing there was no escaping the torture by chasing the numbing cold with heat, she hobbled over to a fur rug on the floor and stepped on the poor dead beast. It was a relief, she discovered with gratitude, even to put something between her bare feet and the floor.
Trying not to think about the far more comfortable and practical—warmer—clothing and boots she’d had before her encounter with the Amazon women and then the Barbarians from Space, she looked around the room as the Prince bolted the door.
There was a very large bed not far from the fireplace with thick, heavy bed hangings all around—no doubt to cut the gales blasting through the room!
Her goose bumps had goose bumps! Her skin was so tight and pebbled from the cold that it hurt.
The Prince crouched in front of the cold hearth and began clearing the ash by scooping it into a bucket near the hearth.
Well that was a relief! Here she’d thought the bucket must have water in it for heating!
There was a pile of–something that looked a lot like dung—because it was!—by the hearth. The Prince tossed a handful of dried dung in and pulled something from his pocket that he used to make sparks. The shit caught fire!
Noelle was stunned.
It wasn’t as if she didn’t know there were flammable components to excrement! But she’d never thought to see anyone burn it to make fire—to heat their habitat!
Were they cooking over shit fires?
She thrust that thought aside as being too squeamish and absurd! Fossil fuels were from rotted vegetation—and animals—and those fuels had been used on Earth until they pretty much got used up and people had to figure out something else. She supposed people—humans—had probably made dung fires, too, but it was one thing to think of what had been done or might have been done in the distant past. It was … just plain horrifying to face living with that sort of thing!
There was a knock on the door that distracted her.
Drak straightened and strode to the door. A trio of young boys trooped in—two loaded down with short pieces of log and the third carrying a tray that looked like it had food and drink on it.
All three glanced curiously at her and then focused on their tasks. The two carrying wood, dropped the pieces beside the hearth. The one carrying the tray set it on a rough hewn table between the bed and the hearth.
The three boys then bowed to the Prince in a quaintly formal way. “I am glad to see your raid was successful, Father, and that you have returned without injury!” the eldest said.
“We thought you wouldn’t be back for hours, Father,” the middle child said, “or we would have had the fire burning on the hearth and been there to welcome you back.”
“Who’s that, Father?” the youngest asked, pointing at Noelle. “You gonna breed her? She looks kinda scrawny. And kinda weird. What’s wrong with her skin …?”
Very likely he would have said more except the eldest clamped a hand firmly over his mouth.
Drak gave the youngest a stern, tight lipped glare that made the child turn pale. “Terl, take Kadin and Jules down to the great hall to eat with the men.”
Noelle felt her throat close at the expression in the little one’s eyes, but she didn’t see that either of the other two boys seemed frightened of their father. Was he harder on the little one? Or was the youngest just not used to his father’s ways?
He didn’t appear to be very old—maybe five or six—although, truthfully, she wasn’t used to being around small children and it was hard for her to judge.
She couldn’t imagine the Prince spending a great deal of time around such a young child, though, and maybe that was why he was uneasy? His father was an unknown entity to him that seemed intimidating for that reason and also because he was a giant of a man and towered over the child.
Or was she just making excuses for him because she didn’t want to think she’d been captured by a monster?
On the other hand, the child hadn’t seemed to be intimidated until he’d earned a glare of displeasure. So maybe he wasn’t actually afraid of his father because he had no reason to worry unless he displeased his father?
When the boys had left, Drak returned his attention to the fireplace. Carefully adding wood to the fire he’d started until it was blazing and the heat began to compete with the frigid air of the room, he straightened, studied his work for a moment, and then abruptly turned and headed straight toward her.
Noelle stood her ground, mostly because she was too startled by the sudden move to command her feet to move in any direction. She stiffened as he grasped her arm above the elbow and led her toward the bed, but she fought the urge to struggle, wrestled with her reluctance, and when he urged her to sit on the bed, she sat.
He knelt, felt around the floor for something and brought out a manacle. He’d cuffed it around her ankle and straightened before she even fully assimilated his intention.
She gaped at the manacle while he turned away with a complete air of unconcern and strode toward the door.
“There is food and brew on the tray. The latrine is through that small door and,” he paused and turned to look at her as he reached the door, “I would not advise you to attempt to leave the room. There were more men who did not capture a female than those who did. And my men are not above filching the spoils of another if they find them wandering the palace alone.”
Noelle turned to gape at him, but his words barely registered.
He was gone before she’d fully assimilated what he’d said—the warning.
And just how was she supposed to escape when he’d chained her to the fucking bed!
* * * *
A
s conscious as Drak was of his position and his obligations to his men—even to social obligations—he was not especially in the mood to mingle and celebrate with his men when he left his room. After a brief hesitation, he turned toward the tower stairs rather than the stairs leading down to the gathering room.
A great gust of wind ripped the door from his hold as he stepped out onto the ramparts, slamming the heavy wooden panel back against the stone wall. He grabbed it and leaned his weight against it to shove it shut again.
Not but what the place could use a little airing out, he thought irritably!
He did not think he had ever really paid a great deal of attention to the smells that accumulated in the fortress during the frigid winter months. Either that or the stench was particularly bad at the moment for some reason that escaped him.
Unfortunately, there was not a lot that could be done to remedy the situation—nor did anything come to mind that might prevent the problem at the outset. Once the winter closed in and the snow began to fall, they faced a seasonal battle to the death with the elements that did not let up until spring thaw. It was not fit outside for man or beast and therefore all of them stayed inside unless they absolutely had to go out. And, once they were closed up tight for the winter, the smells produced by so many warm bodies in close proximity began to mount.
Bathing was not a high priority for any of them, even in the warmer months, because it invited pneumonia and added to the work load—carrying in water and fuel to heat it—when it took every able bodied man they had to lay in the supplies they needed to survive the long winters.
Not that anyone objected to the hunts! Or the raids for what they could take from their neighbors to fill their larder!
That was men’s work! He mentally shrugged. Even if it was work they enjoyed, it was still work, and dangerous at that.
Maybe what he needed to do once the snow thawed was to put some of the young men together to clean the place out thoroughly while everyone was out rieving?
He shook the thought as visions of rebellion filled his mind. It might make everyone somewhat more comfortable, at least in the short term, but the resentment could be a long term problem that could escalate into all out rebellion.
The Raiders Page 7
