by Chris Lange
BLIND TO MEN
Chris Lange
Blind to Men
©Copyright Chris Lange 2014
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the author, Chris Lange
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story contains 140 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 4 pages.
The day has come for Anya to reclaim her life. Protected by an Amazon, she must go to legendary Palance, the city of her dreams. She has to leave her home without even knowing she was cursed at birth. She is blind to men. She can't see them, and they can't see her. Except one.
Dedication
To my family for their unconditional love and support
Table of contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Chapter One
It started with an overheard conversation.
A woman spoke to her mother in hushed, urgent tones. Ear pressed against the wooden boards, she listened intently, praying not to fall deaf. That happened sometimes, as if some words escaped her hearing, or refused to pass through her ears. Frustration gripped her each time the sudden deafness came about, yet she had never been able to prevent its erratic occurrences.
Coming home from the fields, she’d spotted a big, white horse tied to a post. Someone was in the house, a highly unusual event as nobody ever visited. So, she had crept into the attached shed.
Concealed behind sturdy boards, she couldn’t see the woman talking to her mother. She held her breath to follow the conversation. The stranger's voice sounded low and grating, very unlike the lilting notes she and her mother used.
"Anya has been ordered to go to Palance. If she doesn't show at court in a few days, you know how it will end."
Palance! The name alone sounded magical. The legendary city she'd heard so many tales about, the place where royalty dwelt. A shiver of excitement spread through her, and she wondered if she would ever lay eyes on the beautiful city. Her mother's urgent reply cut through her daydreaming.
"We'll run away. We'll hide forever if we have to, but I won’t let anything happen to my daughter."
Should she feel scared? A brief silence ensued, soon broken by the harsh voice of the stranger.
"That's wishful thinking. You can't hide from the . . . You know it's pointless for . . . will find her anywhere."
By the mighty gods, she had fallen deaf again. The desperation in her mother’s tone didn't leave room for ambiguity though, and apprehension constricted her throat. Why would her mother be so frightened? Who was she afraid of? Who searched for them?
Spying a chink in the wood higher up, she climbed on an overturned bucket, careful not to make a sound. The crack was too narrow to see anything. She flattened against the boards and strained her ears.
"What else can we do? Do you think I'll just sit and wait for her to—" Her mother sobbed and breathed hard before resuming. "The creators help me, I can't even say the word!"
"Don't be upset, my lady. The curse can be broken."
The stranger's rough undertone made her skin tingle and gooseflesh rose all over her body. Why did the visitor address her mother so formally and how come the title didn’t seem to surprise her although she'd been born a peasant?
Weirder still, she had the feeling the two women were on friendly terms. But what curse were they talking about? And who? As a cramp slithered up her calf, a note of hope entered her mother's voice.
"Thank the mighty gods! Please, speak your mind."
"To break the spell—"
Her foot slipped on the damp bucket. Arms flailing but unable to regain her balance, she fell down heavily and landed hard on her behind. The door flew open before she could move, and the visitor burst in the shed.
Flinching, she raised her eyes to the tallest and strongest woman she had ever seen. Even her face looked peculiar: unsmooth and irregular features, fair hair cut short, jaw much too square, nose too long, right cheek scarred.
She was indisputably the ugliest female in the Four Kingdoms, yet when their gazes met, she felt all funny inside, her stomach fluttering for no apparent reason. The blue eyes drilled into her as the woman smiled slowly, unhanding the hilt of the sword strapped on her side.
"Anya, I presume?"
An odd apprehension prevented her from answering. Worry etched on her soft face, her mother rushed forward.
"Are you hurt? Dear creators, what were you doing in there?"
"I'm fine, I was only…. Well, I..."
She blew out a long breath, structured speech and simple words eluding her under the stranger's sharp gaze.
"Your daughter was listening in on us."
Although in the process of getting to her feet, she caught the knowing look that passed between the woman and her mother.
"Anya, we have a visitor. This is Kylor, child of an old friend of mine. Now, get some milk, and wash your hands before breakfast."
Thus dismissed, she nodded while rubbing her behind. The stranger’s eyes never strayed from her, a darker shade of blue glittering in their depths as she brushed dirt from her buttocks. Somehow, the intense stare felt too hard to hold.
Averting her gaze, she smoothed her dress, grabbed the overturned bucket, and left the shed. She circled the house to get to the barn, questions bubbling in her mind, threatening to drown her.
Who was this woman? Why had she come to the farm? She carried a sword, could she be an Amazon? For that matter, why didn't she wear a dress but some fabric that seemed loosely sewn around her chest, and tight around her legs? And above all questions, what kind of a name was Kylor?
She dropped the bucket beside her. An instant later, a violent shove sent her sprawling in the dust. She hit the ground hard, pain flaring up her hands and knees. Dizzy, she uttered a sharp yell, but was instantly turned over by something—someone—unseen. Heart trying to get out of her body, lying on her back, she darted her gaze around to assess the situation. No trespasser. She was alone.
A heavy weight landed on her stomach, pinning her down. Something vicious groped for her neck before grabbing it. Mouth wide open, she tried to gulp down some air, but the pressure felt like an iron collar clamped around her throat, squeezing it. Her head span. She choked while the invisible force crushed her windpipe.
Engulfed in terror, she panicked as life seeped out of her body but the pain didn't relent. She was dying for no reason. Although her eyes were open, a black veil descended on her, obliterating the familiar landscape. Gone was the farm, shed, and golden fields glowing under the sun. Only darkness and suffering surrounded her. The last image she'd see would be one of her house.
Just before the black void took over, she glimpsed Kylor running toward her. The tall woman looked like a bull charging. Sword sheathed, arms pumping, she closed the dis
tance and lunged at her.
She wanted to close her eyes yet kept them open when Kylor collided into an invisible wall above her body. The woman grunted from the violent impact then rolled over while appearing to grip a mass in her arms.
"Anya, get inside!"
Suddenly free from the iron collar, her throat convulsed as she took a deep breath. She coughed, hacked, but inhaled to her lungs' content. With a push, she sat up and uttered harsh, whizzing sounds. The black veil disappeared, colors and shapes finally coming back to her in a rush.
"Get inside now!"
Kylor's shout jolted her. She knelt a few feet away, pummeling the ground with her big fists. Before she could figure out the woman's weird behavior, her mother was by her side, helping her up. She leaned on her arm to relieve her weak legs. Together, they hurried back to the farm.
"Mother, I think I've just had a fit. What's going on?"
"We don't have time for that now. Kylor will tell you all you need to know later." Chest heaving from the run, her mother took her hands. "Anya, you must go to Palance."
Her instinctive reaction was joy. She would get to see the legendary city, perhaps even the queen and her Amazons. Although pleased beyond measure, her recent encounter with death stilled her boisterous happiness.
"Why?"
"You have to see the . . . the queen."
The slight hesitation didn’t escape her notice. Her mother had been about to say something else, but thought better of it. There might be no cause for alarm, yet a pang of fear struck her heart.
"I can’t go to Palance on my own, I don’t know the way. I'll get lost, and roads are dangerous."
"Hush, baby, don’t be scared."
Her mother brushed a lock of hair from her face, but the loving gesture didn't slow her heartbeat.
"Kylor will be escorting you. She’s a great warrior and the best protector for you at this time."
A shiver travelled up her spine. How could she be expected to travel with a complete stranger? To spend days and nights with someone she’d just met? What would they talk about? Or do?
Having a protector was all well and good, but why in the name of the creators should she follow a person who carried such a big sword and punched the ground instead of helping her up?
Beyond reasoning or rationality, the strange emotion that rose in her each time she looked at Kylor, at her hard blue eyes and large calloused hands, was most distressing. Her pulse quickened. She didn't mean to plead, yet she heard her begging tone when she grabbed her mother's forearm.
"I don’t want to go."
"You must. You can't stay here."
Chapter Two
Kylor's rough voice made them jump. The odd woman had followed them into the kitchen without their noticing, but who was she to give orders? Her mother instantly cast the visitor a questioning glance.
"Dead?"
The ominous word fell between them. While she motioned to the door, the stranger's tone sounded bland.
"Yes. . . . must have seen the bucket Anya was carrying. More will come, we have to leave now."
"Who's dead? More what?"
Nobody answered her question, but tears tumbled on her mother’s cheeks as she rushed to hug her.
"Please be strong, my baby. Be strong for me."
Although frustrated by a situation she couldn't fathom, she nevertheless felt urgency in her mother's pleading face. They’d never been separated and she had no idea how they would fare without each other.
"I'll go. Don’t cry, Mother, I promise I’ll be back in no time."
The stranger's tall shape moved to the kitchen door. Without glancing back, she crossed the threshold.
"Anya, it's time to take our leave."
She didn't have the luxury to stall any longer. A lump tightened her throat as she stepped outside before her mother faced her.
"I understand you don’t know Kylor, but on everything I hold dear, I swear you can trust her. Whatever she asks of you on this journey, I want you to do it. Do you hear me, Anya?"
She couldn't have sounded more desperate, worried lines creasing her brow as she squeezed her hand.
"Whatever she asks, don't forget that you have my blessing."
With this recommendation, she released her fingers. If her mother said so, then it would be so. Swallowing the hurtful knot constricting her breathing, she nodded.
"I'll do everything she asks of me. I promise."
Sunrays falling on her golden hair, the visitor she was bound to spend the next days with came to stand in front of her mother.
"Take care of my daughter, Kylor. She's precious, and she is my greatest love in this world."
Incredibly, the stranger went down on one knee before enfolding her small hand between her large palms.
"Upon my life, my lady."
She kissed the ring on her mother’s finger with reverence then she stood up quickly, and bowed.
"I'll die before anything happens to her."
Kylor took hold of her arm without further delay, led her to the horse tied to a post, and helped her up before mounting behind her. Emotion gripping her stomach, unable to resist the stranger's leadership, Anya stared at the beautiful woman who had given birth to her and raised her.
"Go, my beloved daughter. May the mighty gods be with you."
"Goodbye, Mother, I'll be thinking of you."
They smiled at each other, tears blurring her vision, her muscles tautening with the imminence of departure. But when Kylor clucked her tongue to prompt the horse forward, she wrenched her gaze away from her mother’s distressed face and addressed a silent goodbye to the only world she knew.
"Kylor!"
Her mother pointed toward the nearest hill, face constricted. With the visitor's arm around her waist, she craned her neck past the woman's shoulder and spotted a dozen horses on the crest. Riderless.
When Kylor leant a little against her back to urge their mount on, she bent over to press her face on the horse's neck. She gripped its soft mane between clenched fingers and closed her eyes, her body attuned to the other woman’s.
The drumming of hooves on dry ground obliterated all sounds of pursuit. Tree leaves rustled as a harsh wind wailed in her ears. She'd never ridden so fast, or so intently. Kylor's heavy body offered her protection but against what? Why in ether's spirits were they fleeing from wild horses at such reckless speed?
They galloped deep toward the forest, obviously in an attempt to hide as much as escape. When clusters of thick trees and dense underbrush finally slowed them down, Kylor straightened. Their bodies uncoupled. The sudden coldness striking her back prompted her up while she heard the woman's assessment over the noise of the horse's hooves.
"We got away, but they're not far. Hang on!"
They rode all day, never leaving the woods. By nightfall, she felt a little sore and frustrated as to why they had to ride so hard. No point in asking. Perceiving she wouldn't get an answer from her strange companion, she sighed with relief when she spotted the edge of the forest.
A drizzle began to seep through their clothes as night came upon them. Silently, they entered a village, following narrow, muddy streets, and soon dismounting in front of an inn. They took the horse to the stables, across the street from the lodging house. Unsaddling it with care, Kylor retrieved a haversack tied to the pommel.
"Now hush, Anya."
Her words sounded like a warning, although she kept her voice low. They crossed the street and climbed the three steps to the door before she added as an afterthought.
"And don't touch anything."
Inside the inn, Kylor asked a small, dark-haired woman for lodgings and dropped a few coins on the counter. The whole exchange was brief, somehow too rushed to be comfortable. Or maybe her new companion was just used to spending nights in unfamiliar establishments.
As soon as the innkeeper grabbed the money, Kylor took her hand to lead her upstairs to a small, clean room.
"We'll stay here tonight. I'll call for ho
t water, or for whatever else you need, but don't go out."
Before she had time to thank her, the strange woman had gone. She came back a short while later with a young maid, both carrying wooden buckets and spilling water on the floor. While they emptied their load into the tub, she happened to see the odd glance the servant gave Kylor.
The look reminded her of the way her mother sometimes longed for warm, rich, creamy milk. But why would a girl feel thirst when looking at a woman? The thought was ridiculous. Her job done, the maid seemed reluctant to leave. She ignored her but closed in on her companion.
"I'm Ash. Call for me if you need anything."
Her lashes fluttered like a sparrow's wings while she grazed her fingernails on the front of Kylor's shirt.
"I’ll be happy to oblige."
"Thanks, but we'll be fine."
Kylor didn't comment on the inappropriate touching. She tossed her a coin instead, and backed away from the girl.
"Leave us now."
The maid obeyed, her pretty features contorted with disappointment, and shut the door. Left alone with the stranger, she looked at her awkwardly. What could they talk about? Conversational topics eluded her so she decided to put the hot water to good use. A hot bath was exactly what she needed. As she began removing her dress, Kylor stormed out of the room while muttering under her breath.
"Mighty gods, give me strength."
That woman was very, very peculiar. What in the creators' names was she fussing about now? Shrugging, she slipped into the tub, the warm liquid soothing her stiff muscles. Exhausted and a bit sore after such a long ride, she closed her eyes to picture her mother’s sweet face. Her nice smile, always a little sad. Her soft, brown eyes. The tears on her cheeks when they parted . . .
The sound of a door banging and of creaky hinges shattering the quiet room roused her from her doze.
"Here, this is for you."
Kylor dropped a shirt on the back of the chair beside the tub before placing a mouthwatering tray on the table. The moment of peace seemed over. She felt like sighing but got to her feet instead.
Once out of the tub, she briefly dried off with a large cloth then donned the garment. The large shirt fell to her thighs, clinging to her still damp skin. She raised her head just in time to catch an odd look on the woman’s face. A look of hunger. What an incongruous expression given the large amount of food on the table.
