War-Torn

by J. E. Keep

  She blinked the thought away as she sat on the ground, still feeling woozy from the blows. “You’ve been following me? Or am I just exceptionally lucky? Well... either way I’m lucky.”

  “Luckier than you deserve,” he said, and she watched as he freed his own long, lusciously golden hair from the hood that he still wore. Despite his dislike of her, he remained a strikingly handsome man. That near-flawless face of his marred only by those two scars, which made him look rugged and tough despite his elven heritage.

  He bent down and retrieved some grungy cloth from the two men’s supplies then held it out to her. “Here, you’ve got mud all over your face,” he stated, though the dingy cloth looked barely any more appealing to her refined gaze.

  Her finger reached up to touch her face, sneering as she took the cloth, trying to clean herself up as she glanced back to the two men. “You’re not going to kill him?” she asked with disdain.

  “No,” he stated firmly. “They’re bandits, but they’re still people.” He left that as is, as if it somehow justified sparing the lives of two mongrels like them.

  “They’re still people that are just going to do that to the next person they come across, and they’re not going to be so lucky as me,” she hissed, her eyes narrowing. “They’re a menace. What if it was someone else they caught, huh? Someone you loved?”

  He narrowed his eyes right back at her, that smooth, golden skin of contorted into displeasure. “I don’t deal out death and judgement lightly. These men are desperate. Fleeing slavery, murder, and certain death. If life has made them vile criminals in the process, I mourn for them. But I won’t rush to end their lives.” He gave her a once-over. “If I valued life that cheaply, I’d have left you to die the other day.”

  He closed the gap between them in such a surprising speed. “How many died for your pleasure over the years, huh? How many of my kin and friends had to give up everything so you could grow up in a lavish manor in the comfort of the capital?”

  “Too fucking many,” she hissed back, her clear blue eyes hard beneath the dirt and grime that sullied her pale face. “Too fucking many have been dying for no reason, but that doesn’t excuse what they did to me. The Crown isn’t protecting your people from the beasts it creates.” She motioned her head to the two passed-out bodies. “So how can we protect them?”

  “They’ll have their chance at redemption,” he stated firmly, eyes narrowed at her. “But if you think I’m going to slaughter off the hard-luck cases of the world on your behalf, think again, princess.” He grabbed the rabbit on the spit and offered it to her. “Go on. Eat. They owe you that much, at least. And you’ve not eaten decently in days. You’ll waste away before long if you’re not more responsible.”

  “Already am,” she muttered as she took the meat in her hands, suddenly unconcerned about the messy, ugly picture she made. She was just grateful for food, for company, once more. It wasn’t until she’d practically finished the small beast that she gasped for air, blinking up at the canopy of the forest. “So you think I’m worth a second shot or something?”

  “No,” he stated firmly. He’d spent her time eating arranging the two unconscious men against a nearby tree. “You’re clearly not. I just don’t treat life so cheaply as you do.” He shot her a momentary glare.

  “You’re not responsible for me or my life,” she said as she stood on weak legs, though the food made her feel stronger than she had in a day. “But if you’ve come back all this way for me, I’m not going to argue.”

  He gave each of the men a slap across the face, waking them both.

  “Listen here,” he said to them harshly, that smooth, masculine voice of his taking on an air of command she’d not heard in him before. “You’re alive, but I saw what you did. And don’t think for one moment I’ll let you both go lightly.”

  They stared at him in surprise and the cowardly nature of both seemed to be brought to the fore. It was something drilled into every peasant and plebe in the land after all, and to be put back in their place the old nature took hold.

  “Put your energies to the fight for freedom. And don’t dare let me hear about you out here harming travellers or innocents again, you hear me?” he scolded, the fiery rebel full of his righteousness. “Our kind are slaughtered wholesale each day, and those who linger behind are enslaved. You can fight for them or against them. Your days of preying on them are over.”

  Rosa was rather impressed, but she grabbed for the knife she’d lost, placing it quickly back in her scabbard, “Yeah!” she said emphatically. She was still dirty, looking every bit the peasant, but for the first time, she didn’t care. “You never know who has friends that’ll help’em out. Or be able to help you out,” she added on.

  The anonymous rebel that’d saved her gave a curious look in her direction. He seemed surprised by her words and didn’t have anything to reprimand her for.

  “Here,” he said as he rose up and tossed a knife towards them into the ground just within reach of her feet. “You’ll get your way out of those ropes before nightfall if you keep a clear head. Remember our words,” he said and moved off towards Rosa, taking hold of her arm and scooping up her bag as he took her off towards the north.

  She still wobbled on her feet a bit, but that was hardly any different from how she was walking when she first went into the forest. She’d been getting better, but that blow to her head had made her balance a bit off. “Where are we going?” she asked quietly when she figured they were far enough away from the bandits.

  “Heading in the wrong direction for a while,” he said plainly. He let go of her arm when she seemed to regain her balance, though he kept her backpack in hand. “You don’t have time to linger around anymore. You’ve dawdled too long as is,” he stated firmly, leading her quickly through the forest at a hard-to-follow pace.

  Desperation somehow helped her keep up with him, though she felt her pulse begin to quicken. “I don’t know these forests,” she reminded him. “I was lost. Were you following me the whole time?”

  “Not the whole time,” he said. “But you’re not hard to find. You leave an easy trail to follow.” And the way he said it made that sound so terribly ominous. Though his smooth, strikingly handsome face showed only the clear determination it always held.

  “I’m a lot better in the city,” she said sternly. “I’m just not used to being out here, but I catch on fast.” At least, that’s what her teachers had always told her growing up. “Is someone after me? I mean... I know they are but...”

  He furrowed his brows and looked at her as if she were insane. “Of course they’re after you. Always assume they’re after you from now on. Don’t be daft,” he reprimanded and shook his head, that flowing mane of golden hair shifting just slightly as he led her on.

  “I mean, are they on my trail?” she asked as she moved over a gnarled root, feeling more pleased at herself than she should that she didn’t trip up.

  He shrugged his shoulders but said, “With how obvious a trail you leave, I’d be surprised if they weren’t. Though the incompetence of poorly trained soldiers motivated solely by fear often surprises me.”

  “Where are we going?” She frowned.

  With a look to her he said, “Good question.” He appeared troubled, though he added, “Anywhere you go, you’ll be inviting trouble. But it’s either let you die out here or take a shot at holding you up somewhere.” He sighed, “I’m taking you to one of the outcast hideaways.”

  Even she knew the significance of that. The fabled underground cities of those who spurned the war and civilization were the stuff of popular legend, and had been for ages. Even the nobles wrote stories of such places and the aggrandized tales of what went on there.

  She was shocked, but she tried to keep her face neutral as she moved in tandem with him. Her thoughts were dark, but she had no interest, for the first time, in sharing them. She didn’t want him to leave her again, and that reliance upon another person made her heart feel heavier.

&
nbsp; “You haven’t even told me your name,” Rosa said, her words softer, sounding more kind than usual.

  “Marin,” he answered simply.

  Chapter 8 – The Nobles

  The nobles of the Union all held residences in the capital. Their wealth and power all sprung from the strips of countryside they owned or were technically responsible for, but there was only one safe and civilized place for them to live anymore: the big city.

  The private armies of the noble families were abolished long ago, and they relied — like everyone else — upon the state forces to protect them. The Landsreck, special forces of the state, patrolled its streets and saw to the safety of capital residents, especially the wealthy and powerful.

  For once, though, that played to Duke Samei’s detriment. Following the Queen’s latest soiree he was not headed to his own manor, but that of his daughter. The rival city manor of the Rensford family was large and opulent, and, like his own, it had a handful of personal guards. They were the last lingering remnant of the armies nobles once commanded.

  It would’ve been an impossible feat for the well-dressed Duke to sneak in normally, but now he had something special on his side. More aptly put, someone special.

  She’d barely been married for a month, but she’d learned enough about the large, old-style manor to tell him of a secret back entrance. Duke Samei accessed it through a dark doorway beneath a bridge at a nearby royal park. The place looked like a toolshed, but the hidden doorway behind a shelf was its true purpose.

  Slipping through it, he moved on through the dark brick tunnel. The pathway was crafted centuries before, as a means for the nobles to escape should the people of the city rise up and come for their rulers. His own manor had something similar though better hidden, he thought. However, his mind was on other things.

  As he came to the end of the tunnel, his daughter opened the door to him, showing a rich study behind her. Books, maps, and extravagant furniture filled what must have been his rival Duke’s private sanctuary. “The servants are still away?” he asked out of anxiousness, but he knew they must be. She would’ve warned him right away if they had returned early.

  “Of course,” she hissed as she ushered him in, offended that he’d question her capabilities so. Her long, dark hair was more casually curled around her shoulders, though the gems that sparkled through her tresses were extravagant. Her smile was as dark and devious as she stepped aside and revealed her slinky, gold-and-teal dress that ended at the floor.

  He gave her a look-over. “You changed fast,” he remarked. They’d barely had time to spare since the soiree ended, but she’d managed to find time to change her dress for him.

  “I could barely breathe in the other one, and I already told you, I wanted to wear something golden.” She smiled, lacing her arm into his.

  With a final look about the chamber he locked his gaze back on her.

  “Is he still in the room?” he asked, unable to keep himself from appreciating his daughter’s youthful beauty. That vibrancy she exuded, so starkly contrasted to his own stern, well-aged exterior. He was healthy for his age, but the silver at his temples betrayed the fact that the years had set their hooks in.

  “He is, just as we left him. I almost like him like this,” she said softly, but a trail of malicious hatred ran in the undercurrents of her tone.

  Samei couldn’t help but soften that stern exterior of his, and he reached up, cupped her pristine, youthful cheek, stroked the flawless skin there back towards her ear. “My sweet child,” he said affectionately. “You’ll never be slave to another husband for as long as you live,” he promised, then bent his head down and to the side. He was such a tall, statuesque man, and it took some doing — even with her in her heels — to reach her, but he gave her a sweet kiss upon her sumptuous lips.

  Her nose crinkled and her hands went to his chest, but even as she pushed him away, her eyes sparkled with mischievous delight. “Father, you must behave,” she chided lightly. “We have a guest in my home that we need to take care of.”

  The Duke couldn’t help but crack a wry smirk at her playful nature. Despite his own reprimanding of her, he enjoyed her impish nature. Missed it in his own manor.

  He licked around his lips, tasting what he could of her there before he led her onwards through the halls. It was a distinct style, different from his manor’s architecture. The woodwork was lighter, taken from some exotic southern forest, no doubt. He loathed the place. It had housed generations of his rivals, yet now...

  “This shall all be yours,” he murmured to his daughter beside him as they walked. “A small consolation for having put up with that old fool for so long,” he nearly spat bitterly as they made their way through the sprawling building.

  Months had felt like decades to the young woman, and she patted his hand soothingly. “And I will dress in black to mourn the dead,” she agreed, that smile parting her lips once more as heat flushed her pale face.

  As they came nearer to the chamber he nodded. “That, I’m afraid, is required.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “The old fool doesn’t deserve your tears, real or fake, but he must have them.”

  With that, he pushed open the door and revealed the sprawling bed chambers. The massive canopy bed, the two tall windows with thick drapes on either side. The focus, however, was on the old, hawkish man tied to one of the exquisite chairs off to the side. He struggled to lift his head and look at them, his beady eyes filled with hate and anger.

  “I’m home, husband.” Caprice smiled. “I do hope you missed me. It was the most wondrous dinner, and had you not made me miss the last three with your wicked hands, you could have been at my side.” She sighed wistfully as she walked into the room.

  “Well, my sweet,” said the boisterous Duke to his daughter. “That bruise I gave him seems to have cleared up nicely thanks to the ointment.” A broad, feral grin contorted his devilishly handsome face.

  She inspected the flesh that her father had struck with keen eyes, staying far enough from him that she was protected from his anger. “Ah, and yes, you’ve healed so quickly for a man of your age!”

  Her father unfurled his arm from hers and stepped between them. The old Duke Rensford couldn’t talk, tied up as he was in his underthings, and a gag was placed firmly in his mouth to keep him quiet.

  “Leave this all to me, sweet girl,” he said in a rich, soothing voice. He cupped her two cheeks in his hands and bent down, kissing her forehead tenderly. He lingered there awhile before pulling back up. “You needn’t sully your hands any further on this vile thing.” He smiled adoringly at his daughter, stroking back her curls from her face.

  She sighed as she nodded, brushing past her father and sitting atop the bed. “I’m not going to leave the room, so don’t even try.” Her legs crossed and her hands pressed into her lap primly.

  With a wry smile he watched her a moment. “Very well. You’ve earned the right to do as you like on that matter, my darling.” Samei looked to the tied-up old Rensford. “A man simply cannot stand up to the insistence of his daughter, can he, old boy?” He walked over and gave the old man a heavy pat — which was more like a slap — on the cheek, in mockery of some sign of familiarity between an older male and youth.

  The Duke began to undo his jacket. “This shan't be a pleasant undertaking,” he told the beady-eyed Rensford, who struggled against his silken bonds. “I imagine it could take a while for you to succumb, but...” He shrugged his shoulders as he tossed his jacket beside his daughter, his white shirt beneath on display as he went to the bathroom nearby. “Once we’re done, we’ll have everything you possess,” his voice echoed from the washroom, “and nary a thing to say in contest.”

  The tied-up and gagged Rensford struggled and glared daggers at his “wife,” the scrawny old man trying to break free in futility.

  “Don’t worry, husband,” she chided. “It shall be faster and more pleasant than what you’d done to me, and perhaps you’ll find you can take the same amount of
pleasure in it. Perhaps this will make you hard, even,” she teased as she glared at the older man.

  She was the vision of youth, of a fresh woman just recently wed to a man that was almost ready to die when she married him. Her loving, doting father was just quickening things as far as she was concerned.

  When her father returned from the washroom, his sleeves were rolled up like some common worker. “Time for the show to begin, old fellow.” He dragged Rensford’s chair towards the washtub. The water was running and she could feel it was cold from the increased chill in the room as she followed after to watch.

  Her father simply lifted her husband up, chair and all, then tipped him back so that he faced down towards the flowing water upside-down. Samei gripped the leg of the chair, balancing the older man there as if it were some mechanism for dunking him.

  Caprice looked on, curiously, her head tilting to the side. “What are you doing?” she asked, watching with rapt attention. Her nose crinkled. “If he drowns, won’t he be all bloated?”

  With a malicious chuckle, Samei shook his head and peered back at his daughter over his shoulder. “Only if we left him in the water afterwards. But no. I’m not going to drown him. That’d leave water in his lungs and they’d find it on autopsy.”

  As the pair spoke so casually, the old man fought harder, and his wriggling nearly caused Samei to lose his grip on the chair.

  “Hold on, old boy, your time is coming soon,” chastised the younger Duke.

  “I guess he doesn’t like being afraid,” his daughter cooed, and she tut-tutted gently. “It’s so sad when someone can be so cruel, and so cowardly.”

  “Don’t worry, love,” comforted her father. “It shall all be over soon.” And taking hold with both hands on the old man and his chair, he levered him down into the water so that it poured over his face, upside down.

  The resulting show was not what Caprice had expected. She thought the old Duke had struggled hard before, but now she watched as the chill water poured over him and he convulsed wildly. She could hear his struggled attempts at crying out through his gag and the futility of his situation as her father held him in position.