WARNING: This is a violent story. Please do not read any further if bad language, rape, torture, and nasty characters upset you. Be 18 or be gone.

FEEDBACK: The email address p.phair@comcast.net Or visit my website at http://www.phair1.com

by Phair

Part 12

Dayne sat chained by the ankle to a tree. She watched the soldiers setting up their evening camp. Each soldier did the same task each night and the process went along flawlessly. There would be no chatter until the tents were raised and food was on their plates. Then they would fall into a pattern of gossip and teasing like a group of old women.

"Here girl, chew on this while you wait," the cook offered her a piece of hard bread.

"Thank you, Vince," Dayne spoke softly so the others would not notice the cook’s kindness to her.

Dayne gladly accepted the bread as she had every night of their journey. The cook took pity on her from the very beginning of the march. He knew how hungry she must be after a full day of walking and no food. The Soldiers carried trail rations and ate their noon meal without stopping. Dayne only ate if one of the soldiers shared with her and that didn’t happen too often.

"We be havin’ stew this night. Last meal’s always a light meal," he noted as he returned to the cooking fire.

Dayne felt her appetite flee. The cook was preparing the last meal on the road. Tomorrow they would arrive at the General’s Villa. Her execution would follow shortly after that, she imagined.

"He’s right, it is my last meal," Dayne thought to herself as she examined the half eaten bread in her hands.

Even though she was ready to die the day Reuben found her, Dayne could not keep her fear of death at bay in the days since. Accepting the notion of ceasing to exist was getting more difficult with every footstep close to the General’s Villa. Angry voices drew her attention away from her dark thoughts. Two soldiers began circling each other hurling the most vile words.

"You’re your mother’s son, Silas," one spat.

"With palms as soft as yours, I’d watch my mouth," the other countered.

"At least I’m able to keep my sword as straight as my erections…,"

"That must be why it’s rigid at our backs but wilts before the enemy," Silas interrupted and the surrounding soldiers began to whoop their support for the younger soldier.

A shove resulted. A sword was drawn. The laughter abruptly ended. Dayne’s gaze was fixed on the two men standing toe to toe, sword to sword. Moments passed with only their breathing to be heard.

Silas dropped his gaze. He lowered sword and drove it into the ground between them. Turning his back to the other soldier, Silas went to his knees and bowed his head.

"I’ve wronged you, my brother in arms. Accept my sword and end my life as a soldier of Waur."

Dayne shivered as the other soldier sheathed his sword and pulled Silas’ from the ground. He stepped closer to the kneeling man and raised the sword above the exposed neck. One quick jab ended the argument.

"Stand with me brother and take your weapon," the soldier helped Silas to his feet.

Dayne saw a bit of blood on Silas’ neck. It was so little that Dayne guess the wound was small.

"Interesting show, huh?"

The voice behind her startled her. Dayne scrambled to the end of the length of her chains before turning to see who snuck up on her.

"Reuben," she sighed.

"Nervous?" He grinned.

"Of course," Dayne defend her reaction. "Last night to live can leave you a bit on edge."

Reuben let out a bellow of a laugh, "That’s for sure. Perhaps, though, the situation doesn’t need to be quite so dire."

"What are you talking about?" Dayne was intrigued but not entirely sure she could trust Reuben.

"Oh, I don’t know. You should be afraid because the General might just execute you himself for all the trouble you caused us. We Elosians are not the forgiving sort. In fact, you just witnessed the only way to apologize and live. Every soldier is honor bound to accept an apology offered with a life. They will cut a small x on the back neck as their oath to let the matter end," Reuben squatted next to Dayne to explain the details.

Dayne questioned, "Honor bound to accept every apology offered with a life or just an Elosian’s apology?"

"Every," Reuben smiled. "Unless there is no more room for an x."

The two chuckled at the thought. Reuben reached over and placed his hand on her shoulder. He gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"I can do no more than what I’ve done. Be respectful and submissive. I wish you the luck of your father’s god. You are a child of Waur. Use that to your advantage for a change," Reuben whispered.

"I am Waur’s child," there where tears in her eyes as she claimed her birthright.

* * *

Becca could feel the sweat trickling in steady rivulets over her straining muscles. It made the fresh wounds on her back sting like a flame against tender skin. She was left to kneel in the hot midday sun, holding a clay urn filled with water at arms length and at eye level. Every warble was met with shrieks of insults from Abel.

"Learn your lesson now, girl. Next time you’ll show respect for your owner," the little man was smug. "When she touches you, you stand still and take it. No getting sick!"

A flush of color rose in Becca’s cheeks that had nothing to do with the heat. Even the memory of Pia’s advances threatened to turn Becca’s stomach; the crude language, the rough hands, the biting. Becca’s body rebelled against the assault in the only way it could, she wretched.

"You’re lucky the Master was there to save you. Even luckier he thought it was funny. Mistress Pia would have been happier to beat you to death than transfer you to the kitchen. Try a stunt like it again and there will be no luck left to save you. Understand, stupid?" Abel kicked her in the belly.

Water and urn went flying in the air. Becca crumbled into a ball to protect herself. Water and clay shards rained down on her.

"Enough," Pia spoke in a weary voice.

"Mistress, I didn’t know you were there…," Abel’s explanation was cut off with a wave of Pia’s hand.

"Leave us. Get up, girl."

Becca stood immediately in spite of her pain. Her body ached to collapse but she stayed rock solid straight. She kept her eyes down.

"Look at me," Pia’s demand was instantly met. "I’m curious. Why is a whore so fragile, so frightened, so faint of heart about sex? Why did your body deny it’s own skill in my arms? Tell me, do I repulse you?"

"N…n…no, no, not you, not you…, me, I’m stupid, it was me, not you," Becca stammered.

She started to shake uncontrollably and began to wring her hands. She was certain Pia would beat her to death. The slap across the face was not unaccepted but not as hard as Becca anticipated.

"Calm yourself," Pia let out a great groan from the aggravation. "If you answer me honestly then I promise not to hurt you too much. I’ll even give you the afternoon off to rest your battered bones. Would you like that?" Pia encouraged the correct response with a slow nod of her own head.

"Yes, Mistress. I would like that very much," Becca dutifully replied with only a hint of terror in her voice.

"Good. So, am I so old and haggard that the thought of my touch sickens you?" Pia stood with her hands on her hips tapping her foot as she waited for the slave to respond.

"No, Mistress. You are very beautiful," Becca blushed thinking how similar Pia looked to Dayne. The sight of her Mistress made Becca’s longing for Dayne even greater. "One of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen."

"Then why did you vomit all over me?" Pia snarled and balled her fist in anger.

"Hurt me," Becca cringed as she spoke. "You bit me. Hurt me. Said terrible things about my body. Told me what you were going to do to it. Scared me."

"You’re a whore! That’s how one talks to whores!" Pia raise her hand to strike. "Gets the juices flowing or so I’m told."

"Wait, Mistress, please. You promised," Becca fell to her knees and covered her face to deflect the slap.

"A promised sealed only if you told the truth. But, I think you’re lying to me," Pia grabbed Becca by the hair and forced her head back to stare into her eyes.

"Not a whore. Raped. My father first. Then your husband. Now, you," Becca’s tears streaked a clear path down her dirty face.

"You father?" Pia let go of Becca’s hair and softened her tone. "He must be half of an ass. No man lays next to his daughter. To do so invites idiots into the family line," Pia was disgusted. "I’ll order him castrated."

"Oh, gods," Becca doubled over and gagged.

"What now? I thought that would make you happy. Peasants, you just can’t please them." Pia gave up, "Abel, Abel, get this ungrateful girl to her bed. Give her something to make her sleep. I don’t want to see her until noon tomorrow. She’ll serve at Reuben’s homecoming."

Abel ran to do his Mistress’ bidding.

* * *

Dayne frantically searched for a solution. She could not escape her captors. Their skills and numbers were far to great to overcome. Truth be told, she didn’t want to run away from them or their food and comfort. Still, there was the possibility of a death sentence. Dayne was positive she wanted to live. She no longer prayed for an end to her days. She needed to perform the ritual she saw Silas complete the night before. But, where does an unarmed prisoner get a sword?

The Villa, which had been a speck on the horizon at sunrise was now looming before them. It was by far the largest dwelling Dayne had ever seen. White stone and marble stood like a mountain before her. Time was turning against her.

"Impressive isn’t it?" The cook asked.

He stepped into place next to her in the column of marching men some time before the sun had taken over the sky above. He had even slipped her a slice of cheese and hard bread at midday. Nobody seemed to notice when he shared his water skin with her.

"It’s unbelievable," Dayne whispered her reply. "The General must be very wealthy."

"Cunning is more the truth of it," the cook spit emphasizing contempt for his commander.

"You don’t care much for his ways?" Dayne asked as she tried to stifle a giggle.

"No, I don’t at all care for his ways. Not that I should be telling you such information," the cook grinned. "Don’t want to be roasting my own behind, if you get my intent."

"You’d like to see him…, embarrassed a bit then?" Dayne hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.

"Well, let’s say, the troops be wagering. Somes think you’ll be skinned alive in front of their eyes. They be the General’s boys. Somes think you’ll find a way to save yourself. They be men like me. Ones that is able to still think," the cook winked at her.

Dayne smiled broadly at the man, "Your men might do well if there’s a way for a prisoner to get a sword. It’ll be returned bloodless, I promise." Acknowledging the potential for failure, Dayne added, "Well, some blood but it’ll be all my own."

"Elosians are Elosians are Elosians. Not prisoners, not half bloods. Stand like an Elosian and ask a brother for a blade in Waur’s name and your brother is honor bound to provide a spare if he has it," the cook slapped her on the ass and drifted back into the ranks of marching soldiers.

Reuben signaled for the procession to halt at the gates. Inside the courtyard servants hurried to open the gates and bid the soldiers welcome. Wine skins and sweet meats pressed between hard crusts of bread were handed to the men as they entered. Once inside the enclosed yard, the solid line of men staggered for shade with their drink and food.

"Welcome, I give you welcome to my humble home," General Felix entered the yard wearing only a leather skirt and a ceremonial sword at his hip. "At ease, at ease, take food and spirits at your ease."

Reuben took Dayne by the elbow and brought her to stand in front of the General. Amusement crossed Felix’s brow.

"Lineman, what’s this gift?"

"General Felix, Dayne is the insurrectionist you commanded me to apprehend, sir," Reuben saluted smartly.

"What?" The General’s face contorted in disbelief. "A half blooded woman locked down the village?"

"Yes, sir. I saw it with my own eyes. Her weaponry is quite an accomplishment. Extraordinary, if I may say so," Reuben kept his comments short and to the point.

"Weaponry?"

Reuben pointed over his shoulder to the two tiered arrow launcher. General Felix left them to examine the item.

"He’s gonna kill me," Dayne breathed.

"Not if you’re smart enough for him," Reuben spoke quietly without moving his lips.

The General returned a bit crestfallen, "Impressive indeed but nothing my workman can’t reproduce. Kill her and be done with her."

General Felix started to walk back to the Villa without a second look at his prisoner or Reuben. He was bitterly disappointed the leader of insurgency was not a man he could deal with directly.

"A blade," Dayne tugged free of Reuben’s hold and spoke in a loud but clear voice, "a blade in the name of Waur, my god!"

General Felix stopped in his tracks, "Blasphemy!" He whirled around to face the woman.

"Which of my brothers will give me their blade in our god’s name?" Dayne spoke as she turned slowly eying the group.

Reuben drew his sword. He offered it to her handle first, across his forearm. The razor sharp blade pointing directly at his heart. One wrong move and Dayne could make him a dead man.

Dayne took the sword and lifted the weight of it. She approached General Felix but did not menace him with the tip. She waited in the defensive stance she saw Silas hold the previous evening.

General Felix pulled his weak blade form the scabbard. He lifted it to the attack position. The cheap metal would never withstand even a half dozen blows from the sword Dayne held in her hands.

Dayne lowered her eyes. She lowered the sword. With great effort, she drove the blade into the dirt at Felix’s feet. Turning her back on the General, Dayne knelt and bowed her head.

"I’ve wronged you, my brother." Dayne took a deep breath to strengthen her resolve before she continued, "Please take my sword and end my life as a prisoner of Waur."

Silence followed.

"Damn you to torment," the General hissed as he cut his x into the back of her neck.

TBC

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