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Episode
II Return of the Dragon
Melissa crouched behind a low screen of dwarf
willow. Immediately behind her
were Dragoth and the two serving girls.
She was better dressed now, her shredded clothing having been supplemented
by a simple homespun linen dress she had purchased at a fisherman’s
hut. Fortunately, her habit of
sewing a few gold coins into her baldric had allowed her to pay for the dress
along with a few necessary supplies and a hearty
meal. The single gold coin she
had given the astonished fisherman’s wife had more than paid for the
purchases, representing as it did several years’ income, but Melissa
had felt the deal well worth it.
When she and her companions had stumbled upon
the hut they had been close to
exhaustion. Tired and hungry,
they had asked for assistance and been given it without making any promise
of reward. The fisherman’s
wife had fed and clothed them, and given them a place to sleep in the loft
of her hut; bedding down Dragoth in an adjoining shed in order that Melissa
and the two serving girls could have a little
privacy. She had bundled her
own children out of their places in order to make way for their guests and
had even addressed Melissa as “My Lady.”
Somehow she had determined almost
the instant she had laid her eyes on Melissa that the red-haired stranger
who had stumbled onto her doorstep was someone
special.
“Not,” Melissa had supposed, “that
it was altogether that difficult to note her special
qualities. Women who wore swords
were not all that common, and it was obvious from the onset that Dragoth
and the two serving wenches deferred to
her. Still, Melissa had been
pleased to reward the fisherman’s
wife. She would have a real surprise
for her husband when he returned from the sea.
They had departed from the fisherman’s
wife on foot. The goodwife had
informed Melissa that horses could be obtained in the nearest village, which
was just a few leagues distant.
Still worried about her missing companions, Melissa and her companions
had set out in the morning, hoping to make the village before
nightfall. The goodwife had sent
them on their way with a good breakfast and had packed a lunch for them as
well. Thus equipped they set
out.
While on her way, Melissa pondered the fate
of her missing friends. Che Sha
and the two Silvani girls had proven themselves quite
resourceful. Surely they must
have survived the storm, but there was always a nagging
doubt. What if they had
not? It was something she did
not care to think about. And
then there were the two missing
maidservants. Although she had
only known them for a short time, Melissa felt responsible for
them. If there was any chance
they had survived the sea she would track them
down. The question was where
to start? She couldn’t very
well walk every league of beach, and then there were the numerous offshore
islands. Her companions could
be almost anywhere. The best
plan seemed to get to a larger coastal town where she could buy or hire a
ship and begin her search. In
the meantime, she could always ask anyone she met along the way if they had
heard of any shipwrecked sailors or women being washed up along the shores
of Sandor.
The walk to the town had given Dragoth a chance
to converse with her. She had
grown to like the bluff captain. He
was somewhat crude, but gave a straight answer, and although she felt she
could not really trust him, she found him an entertaining
companion. As they walked he
regaled her with stories of the sea and a little about the history and geography
of Sandor. He also made use of
the opportunity to question her about herself and her
companions.
“Begging yer pardon, yer ladyship,”
the captain said, “but I couldn’t help noticing when we was back
at the beach that ye seem to have a bit of a
tattoo. And a mighty impressive
one it was.”
Melissa stared at the captain, amazed at his
effrontery. It was most indecorous
of him to comment on her previous semi-nude condition.
Catching her look, the captain quickly
backtracked. “Begging yer
pardon, my lady. I meant no
offense. I’m just a rough
sailor don’t ye see.
It’s just that it be unusual for ladies to have body
decoration.”
“There are some things about me that
are best not revealed, captain,” Melissa replied
evenly. Her dragon tattoo, extending
from its tail at the small of her back to its head between the hollow of
her breasts, was both a source of pride and
consternation. It was the symbol
of the Shang Dragon Warriors, the most deadly and feared fighters and assassins
of the great Shang Empire, but it was also a symbol of her subjugation and
defeat. The tattoo had been carved
into her skin when she had finished her Dragon Warrior training and it signified
both a great accomplishment and the humiliation of complete subservience
to her Shang masters. It was
also possessed of arcane powers; powers that Melissa had experienced but
had no idea how to control. For
her it was a subject best not discussed; especially with a man like Dragoth,
whom she liked but did not trust.
“I apologize again, my lady, but you
and yer companions are a bit of a curiosity.”
Melissa did not
reply. She was still fretting
over her missing companions. There
was no need for Dragoth to know any more about them than he already
did. Dragoth changed the subject,
instead speaking of matters nautical.
He had seen the coin Melissa had given the fisherman’s
wife. Carelessly, she had not
thought to conceal it. Now he
attempted to turn the subject to matters of compensation for his lost
ship.
“That ship was me pride and joy,”
Dragoth mourned. “More like
a daughter to me than a ship. She
and I had been together a long time.
Twas a sad ending being driven onto the rocks like
that.”
“I have been meaning to ask,” Melissa
said, changing the subject, “why did you not go with your crew, but
helped us survive instead?”
Dragoth
shrugged. “Well, your ladyship,
it were a puzzlement to me when you and yer lady friends brought those barrels
on deck. Then I sees that the
barrels are a better bet that the boats, so I pitched in and helped and also
saved me own skin.”
“An honest answer, captain. I shall try
and help you get another ship.”
Dragoth opened his mouth to reply but before
he could speak, Melissa held up her hand.
“Wait,” she whispered, “there is something going on
up ahead.” Crouching down,
Melissa had led her little band behind the screen of willows where they now
peered out at the scene before them.
They had reached the seaside village the
fisherman’s wife had spoken of, but it was hardly a picture of marine
tranquility. It appeared that
most of the citizens had been forced from their homes and businesses into
the market square. Surrounding
them were more than a hundred mounted men, and despite the fact that they
were on horseback, it was obvious from their armour and dress that they were
Sea Warriors.
Melissa crept as close as she could and
listened. One of the Sea Warriors
was speaking. From his fine armour
and flowing cloak, and bird’s wing helmet, Melissa judged that he was
probably the leader of the expedition.
“You are behind in your taxes,”
the man said. Like most Sea Warriors
he was heavily bearded, his facial growth tucked under his chain mail
shirt. “Two weeks ago you
were ordered by King Zirhan to present him with twenty gold
pieces. You have presented the
royal tax collector with only five.”
“But that is all the village has,”
an older man said. Melissa took
him to be the village elder.
“We are but a poor fishing
village. Fish cannot be sold
for so large an amount.”
“Have you no other
wealth? Your furniture, jewellery,
farm animals?”
“But we would have nothing left!”
the elder protested.
“You need a lesson,” the Sea Warrior
sneered. “If you will not
pay in gold you will pay another
way.” He motioned to the
other Sea Warriors and they immediately began to move among the frightened
villagers.
Melissa saw what he was doing at
once. Anger coursed through her
veins in a pounding flood as she watched the Sea Warriors separate the women
of marriageable age from the other
villagers. There were almost
fifty of them, ranging in age from their late twenties to barely pubescent
maidens. The wing-helmeted leader
dismounted and began to move among them.
“No you cannot do this,” the elder
protested. “Many of these
women are promised. That is my
own daughter and she has a husband and a
son.”
The Sea Warrior
laughed. “Then she will
not require any training as a whore when she serves my
men.”
“No,” the elder
repeated. He moved forward as
if to stop the Sea Warrior. With
a sneer the wing-helmeted warrior raised his
hand. Immediately one of the
other warriors rode forward.
Raising his sword he brought if down in a vicious
arc. The elder’s head flew
from his body, landing with a thump four body lengths
away. The torso remained standing
for a heartbeat and then spraying blood like a fountain, it crumpled to the
dust of the street.
Ignoring the villagers’ cries of horror,
The Sea Warrior leader began to move among the young women, many of whom
were weeping and cringing in abject
terror. Almost as if he were
selecting from among cattle he partitioned the young women into two
groups. When he had finished
twenty girls between the age of fifteen and twenty summers had been set
aside. Ropes were looped about
their necks and they were led off to one
side. “Twenty pieces of
gold or twenty women,” the wing-helmeted man
said. No one dared point out
that he had already received five pieces of
gold.
Melissa had to exercise the utmost self-restraint
not to rush forward. One woman,
even a Dragon Warrior, against a hundred heavily armed men would stand no
chance. This was a different
situation from the time she and Che Sha had decimated the ranks of the Sea
Warriors on board the tusked ship.
There, she and Che Sha had been helped by the deadly archery of the
two Silvani rangers. And there
had been no way for the enemy to get behind
her. This time she faced over
a hundred mounted warriors. She
would simply be surrounded and attacked from all
sides. Since many of the Sea
Warriors had bows her life expectancy would be less than a few
heartbeats.
She ground her teeth and
watched. Dragoth sensed her
anger. “My lady,” he
whispered. Ye’ll be doing
them young women no good if yer punched full of
arrows.”
Melissa
nodded. She had no intention
of allowing the young women to be led away into
slavery. Memories of her own
ordeal as a captive flooded into her
mind. She could not allow such
a horror to be perpetrated on anyone else.
Seemingly satisfied that he had made his point,
the wing-helmeted warrior mounted his
horse. Ignoring the lamentations
of the villagers he spurred his horse forward the rest of the Sea Warriors
following. In their wake, the
twenty young women stumbled forward, most of them clutching at the rope about
their necks to prevent it from cutting their flesh as they were jerked
forward.
Melissa rose from her hiding place as the
column disappeared. It never
occurred to her not to follow. Her
missing companions would have to wait.
She had trained them well, now they would just have to depend on their
own resources. She fumbled with
her baldric for a few heartbeats and then handed Dragoth a handful of gold
coins. “This should be enough
to get you a new ship. Look after
my servants for me should I not return.”
“My lady,” said Dragoth said, bowing
his head in respect. By now he
knew enough not to try and convince this strange red-headed woman not to
go after the Sea Warriors. A
few days ago he would gladly have sold her and her companions into slavery,
but now he wished her well. He
would carry out her wishes provided she did not return.
Without further conversation or any goodbyes,
Melissa moved down the road merging into the dust left behind by the
horsemen. Dragoth watched until
she was out of sight, and then turned to his
charges. “Come,” he
said. “We need to find me
a ship.”
Melissa did not stay on the road very
long. Roads in Sandor happened
more by chance than planning, and wound about every hill, pond, forest or
any other obstacle. It was much
faster to cut across country. It
was not as easy walking as it might have
been. Her homespun dress constantly
snagged on nettles and branches as she moved through the
woods. It would have been far
easier in the man’s clothing she habitually wore, much to the astonishment
and sometimes outrage of those she met.
Finally, after disentangling herself from a particularly pernicious
blackberry bush, she removed her dress and taking out her knife made a few
alterations.
She slashed the lower part of the dress down
the middle on both sides and using a strip of cloth cut from the hem she
fashioned a pair of crude trousers by winding the strip around the outside
of each leg. It wasn’t much
of a tailoring job, but now at least she could step over and around obstacles
without snagging herself on them.
Her alterations finished, she set out once
more. The entire operation had
taken her only a short time and the sun was barely past
Melissa watched, her anger barely under control,
as the episode at the first village was
repeated. Apparently the hundred
odd Sea Warriors’ mission was to move from village to village enslaving
every young woman of marriageable age.
Twenty more helpless young women joined the
column. This time even while
the maidens were being selected,
She continued to
follow. There was no
hurry. The forty tethered women
moved at a slow walk. She
had no trouble keeping up with them and was even able to stop at a farmhouse
and purchase some lunch. She
kept well out of sight, not wanting to attract the attention of sixty mounted
warriors. She had a plan, but
she would have to wait until the column halted for the
night. She could only hope that
the enslaved young women would not suffer too much before she was able to
act.
By late afternoon the Sea Warriors had eighty
captives. Melissa expected the
Sea Warriors to make camp, however, they surprised her by stopping in the
last village. Their prisoners
were herded into the market square and the villagers were forced to attend
to their needs while the Sea Warriors surrounded them and kept
watch. While the villagers were
engaged in feeding their “guests” the other Sea Warriors busied
themselves by evicting their unwilling hosts from their
homes.
Melissa waited until it was
dark. She made use of her time,
locating a charcoal burner’s hut and blackening her clothes and
face. Then, she stealthily stole
into the village.
This was what she had been trained
for. Her Shang masters had prepared
her well for this sort of work, schooling her until she was a ruthless and
emotionless killing machine. It
had taken a momentous event, namely the threatened rape of Che Sha by her
own brother, in order for her to recover her true
nature. That did not mean, however,
that the skills burned into her were not still there.
One of the most difficult things for her to
ignore had been the cries of the women the Sea Warriors had chosen as their
bed partners. Most of them were
the older captives, those who had already been deflowered by their husbands
and who were, therefore, less valuable than the younger
virgins. Now there was less noise,
most of the victims being too exhausted to continue protesting after the
fifth or sixth rape, and many of the Sea Warriors having turned in after
satisfying their animal lust.
Melissa took out the sentries
first. There were not many of
them. The Sea Warriors had
encountered little opposition in their depredations and had grown
lax. The first man never even
suspected he was not alone until Melissa severed his spinal cord, jamming
her knife into the base of his neck.
She caught him as he fell, cushioning him on his way to the
ground. Then she moved on to
the next man.
It took her less than a quarter hour to finish
the sentries. Then she crept
into the village, using the buildings to conceal her
movements. She headed for the
house of the village elder. It
was there that the wing-helmeted Sea Warrior had made his
headquarters. It was a
two story structure, with the upper floor slightly overlapping the
first. The shadows of the overhang
provided convenient shadows. The
lower floor was lit by candlelight and through the expensive glass window
Melissa could make out four guards tossing
dice. There was no sign of the
Sea Warrior commander, but she had a very good idea where he
was. When he had entered the
building he had taken the daughter of the elder he had killed with
him. Moving to the back of the
house she took advantage of a rose covered trellis and climbed up the corner
of the house until she reached the second
story.
She found herself in an unoccupied
bedroom. She had no difficulty
finding the Sea Warrior leader. The
sounds of his victims led her straight to
him. She paused outside the door
of the room and listened. What
she heard had her bursting through the door almost
immediately. Inside the Sea Warrior
who had worn the winged helmet looked up in startled amazement as Melissa
entered.
Her gaze swept the room, taking in the scene
in a fraction of a heartbeat. The
Sea Warrior was hunched over the elder’s daughter, his rigid member
impaling her while she struggled helplessly to
escape. Tall and blonde-haired,
her face and body were covered in bruises, especially her breasts which appeared
to have been given a severe mauling.
Crouched in a corner was a much younger
girl. Her clothing was badly
torn and she tried without much success to cover her budding breasts and
the other parts of her seminude body.
She was sobbing uncontrollably.
The Sea Warrior stared in stunned
surprise. What he saw was the
figure of a woman dressed in darkened garments whose face and hands had been
smeared with soot. Her long hair
was tightly braided and tied close to her
neck. But what was most astonishing
was the fact that she held a soot-blackened knife in one hand and a sword
in the other. He looked into
her dark brown eyes and saw death.
Melissa killed the Sea warrior with a single
thrust, the blade of her sword entering his left eye and piercing his
brain. He fell without a
sound. Without a word she crossed
the room and heaved his body onto the
floor.
“Get up,” Melissa said to the
elder’s daughter. “Look
after the girl. I’ll deal
with the scum downstairs.”
Wordlessly the blonde girl looked at her, then she moved to do
Melissa’s bidding.
Melissa took a few seconds to sort through
the Sea Warrior’s weapons.
Selecting a couple of daggers she tucked them into her
belt. “No noise,” she
said. “I’ll be back
soon.”
She exited the
room. Taking the knives from
her belt she tested each of them for balance, and then silently she headed
down the stairs. She was almost
to the bottom before one of the Sea Warriors at the table looked
up. She flicked her wrist, burying
her knife in the man’s neck.
Even as he fell, his hands clutching at his throat, her left arm was
moving, hurling the second blade toward the next
man. The knife caught him in
the eye. Screaming in agony he
hurled himself backward as Melissa drew her sword and knife and leaped from
the stairs into the centre of the room.
The table overturned as the two remaining
men leaped up. One of them had
time to draw his sword, Melissa caught his blade on her own and then duckling
under his guard, drove her knife into his
chest. Punching through his chain
mail armour the thin blade entered his
heart. That left just the forth
man. Melissa stopped for a second
to kill the screaming Sea Warrior with the knife in his eye, cutting his
throat neatly with her dagger, then went after the last
man.
For some reason the last Sea Warrior had not
called out for help. By the time
he opened his mouth it was too late.
Melissa reached over his panic-stricken effort to block her thrust
and took him in the throat. She
made sure of him by driving her dagger under his
sternum.
She stepped back and
listened. The entire event had
lasted only seconds. Outside
there was only silence. As she
had hoped with the sentries dead, there was no one to hear any disturbance,
and the few men that were awake were too busy violating their helpless captives
to pay any attention to a momentary
distraction.
Wiping off her bloody blades and retrieving
the knives she had used, she headed back
upstairs. The elder’s daughter
looked up as she entered. She
was holding the younger woman in her
arms. Melissa
nodded. “The way is clear
downstairs. I have work to finish,
but make your escape now in case I do not
succeed. Head for the woods,
the Sea Warriors will not follow you there.”
The elder’s daughter nodded dumbly, and
then asked, “Who are you?”
“I am the Red Dragon,” Melissa
answered. “Now
go. Pay no attention to what
is happening in the camp. I will
try to rescue the others.”
Without waiting Melissa returned to the
downstairs. She picked up two
more knives that she felt would be useful for throwing and a
crossbow. Pausing for a second
she turned as the two girls came down the
stairs. “Take this,”
she said handing the older girl the
crossbow. “Use it if you
have to, but try to avoid contact.”
Then she headed out into the camp.
It was convenient that the Sea Warriors had
chosen to billet themselves in the homes of the
villagers. Except for the sentries,
all of whom were now dead, no one was about to see
her. She moved to the next house
and peeked in through the shuttered
windows. It was completely dark,
but she could hear the sound of snoring.
How many men there were was hard to tell, but from the noise, there
were at least four or five. She
took out two knives and moved to the
door. Silently she eased the
door open. It creaked
slightly. Taking out an oil-soaked
rag she had brought with her she applied oil to the hinges deadening the
sound. Then she moved
in.
It was pitch dark in the room, but it caused
Melissa little concern. Her mind
flashed back to her Dragon Warrior
training. It seemed so far removed
in time and place from her present situation, that it was almost a dream,
but it had happened. She had
been placed in darkened room with six
men. Each of the men had been
chained in place and given a knife.
The men had been promised their freedom if they killed
her. In stygian blackness she
had to find each man and kill him before he killed
her. She had done that, along
with the other two men hidden in the room who were free to
move. She had not been told about
them.
She had experienced no feeling of guilt over
the deaths of eight men who were merely fighting for their
lives. That had been burned out
of her in the first years of her Dragon Warrior
training. She killed without
thought or mercy and felt no remorse, but that was behind her
now. She had recovered her
humanity. No longer was she a
mindless murderer. Now she killed
for her own reasons, but when she killed the old training took
hold. And it was in full force
now. Moving through the darkened
room like a ghost she found each sleeper by his breathing and calmly silenced
each man. It took her only
minutes. Wiping her bloody knife
on the clothing of the last man, she left the house and moved on to the
next.
She was almost to the threshold, when the
door opened. A Sea Warrior stepped
out, no doubt to answer a call of nature.
He stared at her stupidly for a second, probably unable to make out
her darkened form in the shadows.
Melissa killed him before he even understood what she
was. Then, after hesitating for
a heartbeat she entered the house and continued her grisly
task.
Methodically she worked her way through the
village, meeting opposition only in the few houses where Sea Warriors were
still raping their female captives.
It helped that she met no enemies in the
streets. The only persons she
encountered were frightened villagers who had been evicted from their homes
and who were huddled for warmth in
outbuildings. None of them saw
her and her passage went unremarked.
At last she reached the fish drying sheds
near the waterfront. The sounds
coming from the shed told her what was happening long before she reached
the entrance. The Sea Warriors
had herded the remainder of their captives into the
building. Sixty young women were
huddled under the drying racks while a half dozen Sea Warriors took turns
raping three of the older women.
Nearby another five men watched, supposedly on guard; laughing and
joking among themselves as they commented on the charms of the terrified
women who were being violated.
Melissa knew that she should
wait. There were too many in
the room for her to tackle with the certainty of winning, and there were
other Sea Warriors elsewhere in the village that she had not yet
dispatched. But the spectacle
of what was being done to the frightened young women brought back too many
horrific memories. She could
not let any woman suffer like that.
She checked her weaponry. By
now she had an impressive collection of throwing
knives. She had chosen those
with the best balance and discarded others as she moved
along. She took a deep breath
and charged into the room.
There was no chance of catching the Sea Warriors
off guard; two of them were watching the
door. They were the first to
die. A knife in each hand, she
gutted the first even as he started to draw his sword, and stabbed the other
in the throat as she darted past him.
Then she hurled her knives with deadly accuracy into the two warriors
carrying crossbows. She was more
afraid of these ranged weapons than anything else and taking them out cleared
the way for an all out melee.
Warriors charged toward
her. Drawing her sword, Melissa
killed the closest warrior with a quick thrust of her blade, stabbing him
through the throat over top of his guard as he belatedly brought up his
sword. The next man was better
prepared, but it made little difference, Melissa slid her blade along his
and drove her foot into his midriff.
Knocked off balance, he was unable to stop the knife blade that found
his throat a second later. Then
the fight dissolved into a confused melee with warriors coming at her from
all directions.
Melissa whirled among them like some demon,
her long braid flying loose and whipping about her
head. She gutted one man, blocking
his axe blow with her sword and ripping her knife up through his
abdomen. Then she spun forward
and ducking under the blade of the next man, she used her forward momentum
and struck with all her strength.
The fine steel of the blade, forged by her father, took the man’s
leg off below the knee. Screaming
he fell to the ground. Ignoring
him she tornadoed into the remaining men hacking and slashing at all within
reach.
Some instinct made her turn at the last
second. As she had feared, the
sound of the fight had attracted the remaining Sea
Warriors. They charged through
the door behind her, the first man hurling a spear at her unprotected
back.
Bringing up her sword, Melissa deflected the
spear, sending it thudding into a post supporting the roof of the drying
shed, but the momentary distraction cost
her. She felt rather than saw
the vicious sword cut that would have beheaded her, but she was too late
to fully block the blow. Bringing
up her knife hand, she was able to turn the edge of the blade so that the
flat of the sword caught her rather than the edge, but the blow struck her
just above her left ear, and sent her staggering.
Melissa’s vision
swam. She could sense the Sea
Warriors closing in for the kill, but they were just vague shapes coming
at her. Fighting on instinct
she blocked one blow and then another, but a third got
through. The blow was numbing,
the haft of a spear striking her sword arm just above the
elbow. She tried to raise
her weapon, but her sword fell from nerveless
fingers. Backing frantically,
she stumbled over something behind her.
She realized as she went down that it was one of the captive girls
she had tripped over. Desperately,
she raised her knife as the rest of the Sea Warriors came at her like
wolves.
Dazedly a voice sounded over the yells of
her opponents. “Take her
alive. I want her
alive.”
She blocked one blow and then
another. Her head was clearing,
but there were so many men coming at her that she could not get to her
feet. Coolly, she rolled away
from the men closest to her, making it to her knees, but now she was completely
surrounded. Swords and spears
menaced her from every side. A
spear shaft came down across her left wrist knocking the knife from her
hand,. It was then that
Melissa realized that the Sea Warriors were not trying to kill
her. She tried to rise, but a
dozen spear and sword points hovered less than a hand’s breadth from
her body. To move was certain
death.
“Tie her,” said the
voice. Rough hands seized
her. Still not fully recovered
from the blow to her head, Melissa resisted feebly as the haft of a spear
was thrust against the small of her back.
Then her elbows were bent around the spear shaft and her wrists tightly
bound across her belly. Lifted
to her feet she found herself surrounded by armed
men. One of them pushed his way
through the crowd.
Melissa vaguely recognized the Sea Warrior
who confronted her. He was one
of the men who had ridden close to the man with the winged
helm. No doubt he was one of
the higher ranking officers in the expedition.
“What do you want her for Sklar?”
asked one of the men holding Melissa’s
arms.
“I want to know who she
is. She just killed half a dozen
men and all the sentries are dead.”
He turned his head toward a man standing next to
him. “Dak, check out the
billets. See if you can find
out why none of the others showed up.
They should all be here with the amount of noise we’ve been
making.”
“Right Sklar,” Dak
replied. He jogged out of the
shed.
Sklar looked Melissa over
intensely. Like most of the Sea
Warriors he was heavily bearded and above normal
height. “Get me a wet
cloth,” he ordered.
A minute later he was handed a dripping
rag. Reaching out he used it
to wipe the soot from Melissa’s
face. “What are you?”
he asked as Melissa’s perfect features were
revealed. He grasped her long
braid and released the bindings allowing her hair to spread like a veil over
her body. At that moment Dak returned.
“They’re all dead,” he announced,
his voice shaking.
“Everyone. Even
Grak. And the villagers and the
women captives are gone.”
“Dead?” Sklar
repeated. Sixty men
dead?” His voice reflected
his incredulity.
“That’s not possible.
Who could have done it?”
His eyes bored into Melissa.
“Talk to me, you redheaded bitch,”
Sklar commanded. “Who did
this? Who else is with
you?”
“No one is with me,” Melissa
replied. “I don’t need
help to deal with scum like you.”
Her voice was calm even though inside there was a dull lump of fear
in her stomach.
She rolled her head with the punch as Sklar
struck her. She had been expecting
it. Unable to avoid the blow,
she took it as best she could.
“Don’t lie to me you redheaded
whore. Who came with
you? And where are they
now?”
Melissa did not
reply. She had said all she was
going to say.
Sklar took out his
knife. Seizing the coarse material
of her dress he cut through the bodice and stared in stunned surprise at
the tattoo between her beasts.
“By the sea demons,” he
muttered. “What’s
this?” He used his knife
to cut away the rest of her clothing, leaving her standing naked and helpless
before the assembled Sea Warriors.
Sklar ran his eyes over her body, drinking
in every supple curve. But it
was the incredible dragon tattoo that drew his gaze again and
again. Beginning in the small
of her back the red ink of the imaginary beast curved its way between her
shoulder blades before diving under her left arm and swooping down to below
her navel before rising again to finish between her
breasts. The beast was so finely
inscribed that it seemed almost alive, its coils seeming to move as she breathed
and shifted her supple body.
Sklar took a long slow
breath. “What are you?”
he asked, changing the question slightly.
Melissa remained silent.
“Take her outside,” he
ordered. “I’m going
to loosen her tongue.”
One man took each end of the spear
shaft. Using its leverage they
easily forced her from the shed.
Most of the Sea Warriors followed, only a few remaining behind to
keep watch over the remaining female
prisoners. By now the early light
of morning was breaking over the village.
The sun was not yet up, but most of night’s shadows had
retreated. The village was deserted,
the terrified villagers having taken advantage of Melissa’s work to
escape into the surrounding countryside.
“At least I accomplished something,”
Melissa thought. She was angry
with herself for being so easily
captured. She knew that she had
been wrong to dash into the shed where the Sea Warriors’ victims were
being held. She had abandoned
the first of her teachings; that of not letting emotions cloud her
judgment. Her Dragon Master would
be very angry with her if he knew, but she had never been able to control
her emotions when it came to the violation of helpless
women. Perhaps it was because
of the sexual brutality that had been visited upon her or perhaps it was
just the way she reacted to such violent
degradation. Whatever the reason,
it had now trapped her. As she
was paraded through the village she cursed her humanitarian
instincts. She could help no
one if she were captured, and now she faced rape at the very least and probably
cruel torture as well. As she
was led forward she looked frantically for some way to
escape.
There was
none. She was led to the center
of the village. There, in the
market square was a pillory. She
was led toward it and then with her arms still bound she was bent forward
and her head thrust through the centre
hole. She was keenly aware of
the way that this exposed her body to whatever Sklar wanted to do with
her. She kept her face immobile,
hiding her emotions, but her condition could hardly have been more humiliating
or perilous.
Her full breasts swayed sensually, fully
accentuated by the curve of her back as her head was locked into
place. She was bent forward,
exposing her long legs and smoothly rounded
backside. Her legs were slightly
spread to keep her balance, revealing the tight pink slit between her legs
and the inviting bud of her anus.
Her back was arched due to the pressure on her back of the spear
shaft. To a rapist or torturer
she could hardly have been a more inviting
target. Unfortunately for her,
Sklar fit both of those categories.
He raped her
first. He had found this to be
a most useful way of breaking most women, but that was not his main
motive. The red-headed warrior
was the most sexually tempting woman he had ever
seen. The luscious curves of
her body concealed a layer of muscle that gave her a panther-like grace and
beauty. He would have fucked
her even had he not wanted the information she
concealed.
Placing his hands on her hips he ran his fingers
up the smooth flesh of her body.
She was covered with a thin layer of sweat, partly as a result of
her recent physical activity and partly out of
fear. As he touched her she felt
her body tense, the powerful muscles tightening beneath his
fingers. She was
afraid.
Good. She would be much
more afraid before he was through with her.
“Ready to talk?” Sklar asked
rhetorically. He doubted that
she would break so soon and he didn’t really care if she
did. He was going to fuck her
anyway no matter how cooperative she was, but he went through the motions
of an interrogation. The woman
did not answer. Her only response
was a slight stiffening of her body as he cupped her
breasts.
They were as ripe and firm as the finest sponge;
yielding under the cruel pressure of his fingers, but springing back as she
released them. He tightened his
grip and thrust into her.
The only sound his victim made was a slight
grunt as he forced his way in. It
was clear that in spite of her beauty she had not had a lover for quite some
time. She was as fresh and tight
as a virgin. He grinned as he
shifted his hands to her hips. He
would soon loosen her up and if he didn’t then the rest of his men
would.
Melissa bit her lip as Sklar penetrated
her. The pain was
intense. It was a long time since
she had been with a man and her pleasure palace was as fresh and tight as
that of any maiden. Sklar was
a big man and one who wanted to hurt her.
His thick shaft parted her vulva and ripped into her like the ram
of a war galley. She bit back
a scream, her teeth drawing blood from her lower
lip.
Sklar stroked slowly into her, his penetration
increasing with every thrust.
Melissa’s heavy breathing grew increasingly more agitated as
he ravaged the tender pink flesh of her love
canal. Burying his lance deep
within her, he savaged her, driving again and again into her before finally
spewing his vile spunk inside her.
Melissa gasped, her ragged breathing revealing
the pain and stress of her ordeal.
She feared rape more than torture.
Torture only brought pain.
Rape brought both pain and the threat of
impregnation. That danger was
always there. The thought of
being forced to carry the brutal Sea Warrior’s child filled her with
dread. And then the ordeal was
over, at least for the moment. She
had little doubt, however, that the other men surrounding her would be denied
their opportunity.
Sklar jerked himself out of his
victim. As he stepped back from
her he angrily slapped her backside.
The redheaded bitch had refused to be
broken. He thought to have her
screaming by now, but she hadn’t even
whimpered. But there were other
ways to break a woman. He pulled
up his pants and strode over to a willow
grove. Selecting a branch the
thickness of his thumb he cut off a five foot length and began to peel off
the bark. The villagers had numerous
uses for the willow, from baskets and furniture to medicine, but Sklar had
a more brutal use in mind. He
swished the withe through the air.
It made a most satisfying sound.
Melissa heard the sound of the willow
flail. She had been raped and
now she was to be beaten. It
was almost a relief. She was
much better at withstanding pain than the humiliation and brutal intrusion
of rape. She had no illusions,
however, about what was to happen to her.
She was completely helpless and open to whatever part of her naked
body Sklar wanted to target.
“Alright, bitch,” Sklar said, stepping
to within striking distance.
“Now will you tell me who came with
you?”
“I came alone,” she
replied. Her voice was
steady. “I needed no one
else to deal with men who can only fight women and those who have no
weapons.”
“Redheaded witch,” Sklar
said. “I am going to enjoy
stripping the skin from your
backside.” He raised the
willow switch and brought it down across Melissa’s rounded
buttocks.
Crack! The
sound of the blow echoed in the morning
air. A bright red stripe appeared
across Melissa’s ripe backside and her body shook from the
blow. She clenched her
teeth. She had endured worse
pain than this. She was a Dragon
Warrior; a mere beating could not make her cry out.
Half an hour later she was not so
sure. Sklar had striped her backside
repeatedly drawing blood where the red withes
overlapped. She was breathing
heavily as the pain mounted, but she had not uttered a
sound. “Bitch,” Sklar
muttered. The redheaded demon
continued to defy him. He waved
two men forward. “Lift
her,” he ordered.
Melissa winced as each of the Sea Warriors
seized her legs. She was lifted
so that she was parallel to the ground.
Her hands were untied from the spear shaft and inserted alongside
her head into the pillory. Then
her legs were spread wide and Sklar proceeded to use the willow with to peel
the skin from her inner thighs.
If the first beating had been painful, this
one was agonizing almost beyond measure.
Not only were her inner thighs exposed, but also the tender flesh
of her vulva. Sklar made this
area a special target.
The first blow took her breath
away. The second brought a barely
suppressed whimper to her lips. By
the fifth blow her entire body jerked in
pain. Sklar
smiled. Soon now the bitch would
break. He brought the willow
with down again cutting the unbelievably sensitive flesh of her nether
lips. A muffled cry escaped the
lips of his victim. Sklar raised
the withe again and then cursed. He
was as hard as iron, his throbbing member bulging against his
pants. The beating would have
to wait. She was ready to
break. Maybe this would finish
her off. Wrenching open his pants
he stepped between the bloody thighs of the gasping
woman. In seconds he had buried
himself in her warm depths. She
moaned and he drove hard into her.
He would break her. No
woman could resist him.
“Sklar, who gave you the right to take
her again before any of us have had a
chance?”
The voice was
Dak’s. Sklar gave the redhead
a couple more thrusts and turned his
head. “I’m in charge
now that Grak’s dead. I
gave myself the right.”
“You have no such right,” Dak
protested. “We share all
equally. It is the Sea Warrior
way.”
Sklar plunged deeper into his moaning
victim. “Then you shall
have her,” he replied. With
a final thrust he grunted as he spurted his seed into the woman’s
womb. He was angry, but Dak was
right. The Sea Warrior code gave
all men an equal share. He stepped
back and let Dak have his way.
After Dak each of the other Sea Warriors took
her, some of them more than once.
It was twilight by the time the last of them
finished. Melissa hung exhausted
from the pillory, no longer able to support
herself. Her breasts and inner
thighs were covered with bruises and blood ran from her ravaged vagina and
the bloody welts on her buttocks and
legs. Sklar walked up to her
and lifted her chin. “Ready
to talk now, bitch? My men and
I have only just begun to enjoy
ourselves. Talk or there will
be no rest for you tonight. Now
tell me who helped you kill my men.”
Melissa did not
answer. There was no point in
lying to Sklar just to avoid torture.
Even if she created a make believe army to account for all of the
dead men in the village Sklar would not stop his
questioning. Next he would want
to know where they were and how to find
them. Of course, she could keep
on making up lies forever, just to keep Sklar amused, but that was not her
way. A Dragon Warrior did not
lie. To do so was dishonourable,
and Melissa had absorbed and retained that part of the creed that had been
drummed into her.
“It’s your choice then,” Sklar
said. “You will spend the
night with me.” While Sklar
had been amusing himself with Melissa, Dak and several other men had been
searching the countryside. They
had brought back several villagers who had not fled far due to the fact that
they were too old or had small children with
them. He turned to two of them
who were standing next close by.
“Clean her up,” he
ordered. “I like my bedmates
free of blood.”
Two older women came
forward. Gently they released
Melissa from the pillory. Sklar
assigned only one guard. It appeared
that he feared no danger from his battered
captive. Taking her under the
arms they dragged her to one of the houses and lay her on a
bed. While she lay there one
of the women bathed her wounds while the other heated water in a large hanging
pot in the fireplace. An older
man came and went bringing in a steady supply of
wood. While the woman daubed
at the swollen weals on her body the other woman offered her
water. Parched from her long
ordeal, Melissa drank greedily, finally quenching her
thirst.
Melissa made no sound as the bloody welts
on her body were cleaned, but she gasped in pain as the two women helped
her into a copper tub full of steaming
water. Gently they bathed the
filth from her body and after they were finished they helped her from the
bath. All the time the single
Sea Warrior guard had remained in the room watching with increasing interest
as the filth was stripped from Melissa’s
curves.
“Get out,” the warrior guard ordered
the two women. “I’m
going to take this bitch first.
Can’t see why Sklar should have her to
himself.”
The two women scuttled from the
house. The warrior set down his
spear and approached Melissa who was still half submerged in warm
water. “You and me are going
to have some fun, you redheaded witch.
Sklar can have what I leave
him.” He reached down and
grabbed her right arm. It was
the last thing he ever did.
The stiffened fingers of Melissa’s left
hand struck on either side of his nose, penetrating both his
eyes. He opened his mouth to
scream, jerking his head back and the palm of Melissa’s right hand crushed
his throat. She stepped out of
the water ignoring the man’s death
throes. Picking up his spear
she steadied herself. The all
day rape and the brutal caning had taken a great deal out of
her. She was too weak to take
on the Sea Warriors in an all-out melee, especially as she had counted forty
of them remaining. And she did
not have her father’s sword.
It was a minor point, she was trained to use
a multitude of weapons as she had just demonstrated, but her father’s
sword was much more than just a blade.
In her hands the sword became part of her, an extension of her body
as the creator, the finest sword maker in Dakmora had
intended. She was not about to
leave without it. First, however,
there was the matter of finding where it
was. She suspected Sklar had
it. He would certainly be the
one to acquire so fine a weapon.
And he was going to come for her in just a few
moments. Melissa blew out all
of the candles in the room except one, and then she
waited.
Sklar came with an
escort. Two other Sea Warriors
accompanied him. Melissa let
them all get into the room before she
struck. She had dragged the dead
guard over to the bed and rolled him underneath
it. She lay on top of the bed,
naked and seemingly vulnerable, her eyes closed as if in
sleep.
“Time to wake up bitch,” Sklar said,
approaching the bed. Melissa
feigned unconsciousness, observing him through the narrowest of slits in
her eyelids. He reached down
to wake her and she drove the guard’s knife into his
ribs.
She had timed the thrust
perfectly. The Sea Warrior lieutenant
stiffened in surprise as the cold steel penetrated his liver, but more
importantly, his body screened Melissa from the other two
men. It wasn’t until she
came off the bed that they realized something was wrong.
Her movements were slow and stiff, but still
fast enough to deal with the other two men before they could call
out. She had been lying on top
of the dead guard’s spear. She
came up with it in her hands and stabbed one of the remaining Sea Warriors
in the throat. Dropping the spear,
she leaped across the room, and using her knife once again, drove the blade
to the hilt into the other Sea Warrior’s
chest.
Breathing heavily, Melissa almost
collapsed. Adrenaline and the
mystical inner strength of a Dragon Warrior had carried her through this
brief battle, but she had nothing left.
If anyone had heard the disturbance and investigated she would be
able to offer only feeble resistance.
It took her several minutes to
recover. To her relief no one
seemed to have noticed the small amount of noise that had
occurred. No doubt if they had
it was probably attributed to what the three men were supposed to be doing
to her. Regaining a little of
her strength she got to her feet and rolled Sklar
over. The Sea Warrior leader’s
eyes were wide open, a look of stupefied disbelief on his
face. As she had suspected he
was wearing her sword. She retrieved
it and looked about for something to
wear. There was very little in
the house that was suitable other than the clothing the dead men were
wearing.
“Why not?” Melissa
thought. It wasn’t her first
preference, but it did have one major
advantage. If she wore the helmet
and clothing of one of the warriors it would help to disguise
her. She needed time to recover
from her ordeal and escape from the village was her only
alternative.
She dressed as quickly as she
could. Her injuries made any
movement painful, and her body was stiffening
up. She would have to hurry and
find a place where she could hole up until she
healed. Finished, she blew out
the candle and slowly eased the door
open. Outside the street was
deserted. Apparently the Sea
Warriors still had not learned the necessity of posting adequate
sentries.
She stepped into the street and headed for
the edge of the village. In her
Sea Warrior attire she hoped that even if she was seen the observer would
think that she was one of his companions going out to relieve
himself. She was twenty steps
away from the door when a voice from above accosted her.
“Sklar, how was
she? I’ll bet she moaned
when you stuck her this time.”
Melissa froze, she had been mistaken for the
Sea Warrior lieutenant; not a surprising event considering that she was wearing
his clothing and helmet. Slowly
she turned, keeping her head down to avoid being
identified. The man who had spoken
to her was perched on the roof of one of the
houses. The Sea Warriors had
learned something from her attack.
Instead of posting their sentries in the streets where they could
be stalked they were on the rooftops, probably within sight of one
another. Caught off guard she
had blundered out into the open.
There was only one thing to do and that was to keep on
going.
She turned back the way she had been heading
and walked on as if no one had spoken to
her. She couldn’t reply,
her voice would give her away. If
she could just gain the outskirts of the village she could blend in with
the trees and make her escape.
“Sklar!” the guard called
again. “Didn’t you
hear me?” Melissa kept on
moving.
“Alarm!” the guard
shouted. “There’s an
intruder in the village!”
Melissa broke into a run, forcing her agonized
body to move in spite of the pain, but the sound of feet close behind her
told her that it was useless. She
would have to stand and fight.
Drawing her sword she turned to face her pursuers.
“By the sea demons,” cursed the
man who was closest to her.
“It’s not Sklar, it’s the redheaded
witch.” There were a half
dozen men closing on her. At
the words of the pursuer they slowed and came at her cautiously in a half
circle. It was obvious that they
remembered how she had fought in the fish drying
shed.
Melissa backed slowly
away. She was in no condition
to fight one man let alone six. The
episode in the house where she had killed Sklar and his two companions had
finished her. She had no more
to give, already she could feel her tired legs
shaking. Any battle would be
a short one and she would be the loser.
Her opponents seemed to sense her
weakness. Ringing her, they hemmed
her in so that no matter what direction she moved she would be forced to
fight. Melissa raised her sword
and waited.
The attack came from the front as she had
anticipated. She had expected
her adversaries to come at her from the front as that would enable those
behind her to attack her back while she was
distracted. Normally such a ploy
would have failed, but Melissa was too
slow. Even as her attackers feinted
and retreated she knew she had lost.
She could not avoid the blow that came at her from
behind.
A spearpoint penetrated the back of her right
thigh. With a gasp of pain she
went down. Immediately the other
five men pounced on her, knocking her sword and knife from her hands and
pulling her hands behind her back.
Quickly they tied her and then dragged her to her
feet. “We’re not finished
with you yet,” said one of the men who she recognized as
Dak. “What are you doing
wearing Sklar’s clothes and helmet?”
The answer came a few seconds
later. “Sklar’s dead
and so are three others,” said the Sea Warrior who had been sent to
find Sklar. “They’ve
been butchered like hogs.”
Dak turned on her
disbelieving. “You witch,”
he raged. Stepping forward he
drove his fist into her stomach putting all of his weight behind the
blow. To his chagrin and utter
amazement, Melissa hardly flinched.
He shook his hand. Hitting
her stomach was like striking a brick wall.
“Demon bitch,” he
cursed. This time he struck her
in the face. Melissa could not
avoid the blow and it rocked her head
back. Dak struck her again, this
time with his other fist. The
other men needed little encouragement, raining blows on her from all
directions. Eventually she could
not tense her stomach muscles and doubled over as the wind was driven out
of her. Knocked to the ground,
the men surrounded her and kicked her savagely until finally Dak drove then
away.
“Enough,” he
said. “I’ve got something
special planned for this whore.
This time she will tell what she knows.”
Dragged to her feet Melissa was stripped of
her clothing. Then Dak ordered
her hauled to the market square once
more. “Hold her here,”
he ordered. Then he strode
off.
He needn’t have bothered to ask the other
men to watch her. Melissa was
barely conscious. The savage
beating had broken two of her ribs and she could barely
breathe. As well, both of her
eyes were mere slits surrounded by puffy
flesh. The rest of her body was
covered in bruises and still bore the bloody welts of the willow
wand. She would have fallen if
the men guarding her had not held her
erect.
Dak returned a short time
later. Through the puffy flesh
around her eyes, She saw that he held something in his
hands. What he had brought would
normally have sent a twinge of fear through her, but so battered was her
consciousness that the instruments of torture he held in front of her face
barely registered. “Demon
cursed whore. Now you shall know
real pain.”
“Uuugghh!”
Even in her barely conscious state Melissa felt the intense agony
as Dak shoved the point of the huge fishhook through the underside of her
left breast.
“Aaagghh!”
She screamed, her resistance
to pain broken as the barbed hook, used for catching large fish, was forced
through her pliant flesh until it ripped through the top of her breast, emerging
just above the roseate nipple.
“Scream whore; it’s going to get
worse,” Dak sneered. Then
he pierced her other breast.
Melissa screamed again, this time her wail
ending in a broken sob, but Dak was only just getting
started. The end of each hook
ended in a steel loop. Dak threaded
a length of heavy twine through the loop of each of the hooks and then tying
the two lengths together tossed it over a horizontal support
beam. Then he pulled tightly
on the line.
“Eeeeaaagghh!” Melissa shrieked in agony as she forced herself
onto her toes as her breasts were cruelly stretched by the
hooks. Her body shaking, it took
what was left of her remaining strength to keep the barbed hooks from ripping
through her quivering and bloodied
breasts.
“Let’s see how long you last,
whore. Sooner or later you will
weaken. Then we’ll see how
well you withstand that pain.”
Melissa teetered
helplessly. Already she could
feel the hideous pain of the hooks tearing through her
flesh. Her legs shook as if they
were made of jelly. She screamed
again as her knees buckled.
The world disappeared into a red
miasma. Around her everything
vanished in a whirlwind of pain and
confusion. Bodies seemed to hurtle
past her and she fell. But somehow
she didn’t fall. Something
was holding her up. Calm words
were whispered in her ear and then blackness descended.
She awoke to a universe of
pain. There was not a part of
her body that did not hurt. But
she was lying in a quiet place on a feather soft
bed. A moment of panic seized
her when she realized that she could not see, but then a quiet voice soothed
her.
“There. Everything
is alright. You are safe
now. Do not worry about your
sight; your eyes are swollen shut.
In a few days your vision will return.”
“Who… are…
you?” Melissa’s voice
creaked like a rusty hinge. A
gentle hand lifted her head and held something wet to her
lips. Eagerly she lapped it up
only to discover that she had been offered only a few
drops. “More,” she
groaned.
“You shall have as much as you want,
but I can only give you a spoonful at a
time. Your lips are too badly
swollen. In a little while I
shall try some warm broth.”
The wet object was raised to her lips
again. This time Melissa recognized
it as a spoon. She sipped the
cool liquid again and again until finally her thirst was
slaked. Then she lay her head
back down and slept.
When she woke for the second time the same
calm female voice greeted her.
“Ahh, you are awake again.
This time we will try some broth.”
Melissa did not answer.
Her mouth felt like her tongue
had swollen to the size of cow’s and her face and jaw
ached. A few minutes later her
head was raised and warm liquid was spooned into her
mouth. She swallowed as much
as she was able and then lapsed back into
sleep. She wanted to speak to
her host, but slumber claimed her before she could remember what she wanted
to say.
The third time she awoke she managed a
question. Two questions
actually. “Who are you and
where am I?”
“I am
Sophora. You saved me and my
sister from the Sea Warrior brute that was having his way with
me.” The girl’s voice
was matter-of-fact, but Melissa detected a note of anguish and anger in
it. You and I are guests in the
home of the village elder.”
“What…”
Melissa began, but a finger was gently laid upon her
lips.
“Do not talk, just
listen. I will tell all that
happened.”
“When you saved me and Tathia, we did
as you asked and fled to the woods, but we did not go
far. I made sure that my sister
was safe and then returned. On
the way I chanced upon a few of the villagers who had hidden in an outlying
farm and told them what had happened.
They were afraid to return, but when I told them that I was going
back to help the one who had rescued me, several men among them, shamed that
a woman had more courage than they, came also.”
“We crept to the edge of the village
and watched. At first we saw
nothing, but then we heard the battle break out in the drying shed and saw
the sea barbarians run toward it.
You know what happened after that, but there were too many sea barbarians
for us to handle. I had the crossbow
you gave me, but most of the others had only a few knives and axes and we
lacked the training of the barbarians so we could do
nothing.”
“That changed shortly, however, when
the rest of the villagers escaped.
Now we had the numbers if not the training to do
something. I wish we could have
helped you sooner, but we are fisher folk and lack military
skills. It took all day and much
discussion to formulate a plan. however, if we were to be successful we needed
a diversion. Sadly, it was you
who provided that diversion. As
you were tortured by the Sea Warrior chieftain we closed upon
them. It was I who placed a quarrel
in the heart of the sea barbarian who was molesting you and then I ran to
your side to prevent you from falling.
You were grievously hurt, but I have been told that your wounds although
painful are not life threatening and most will heal without
scarring.”
The girl finished speaking and took a deep
breath. Taking Melissa’s
hand in hers she continued.
“Now you sleep again.
When you next wake we will try some heartier
food. You must eat to get
well.” Obediently, Melissa
relaxed and slept again.
It took several days before she was able to
move about on her own, but her wounds healed quickly, much to the amazement
of her caregivers. “That
is not possible,” Sophora said.
“Those injuries should have taken months to
heal. What are
you?”
“A friend,” Melissa replied, tightening
her baldric. At her request she
had been provided with clothing that allowed her proper freedom of
movement. By Sophora’s standards
and those of most of the villagers, it was scandalous, resembling as it did
male attire. But they went along
with her request. She wore loose
fitting black breeches tucked into knee-high black leather
boots. A black blouse was tucked
into her breeches and girdled with a bright red
sash. As usual she wore her sword
over her shoulder and a brace of knives were tucked into her belt along with
a few special weapons she had asked the village blacksmith prepare to for
her.
To the villagers she was a disturbing and
bizarre presence. Her red hair
alone set her off from the local inhabitants, most of whom had blonde or
sandy hair. And then there was
her dragon
tattoo. To many it was the sign
of the devil. Not all of the
villagers had seen it, but many had and those who had not were enlightened
by the others. As each story
about her was told it grew in the telling until after just a few days her
reputation had reached mythic
proportions. Small wonder that
as she ventured into the streets of the village for the first time since
her capture that most villagers looked at her askance.
Waiting for her was a
horse. In spite of the entreaties
of Sophora and others she had decided to move
on. She could not help the villagers
much more than she already had without their cooperation and she did not
think that she was likely to get it.
The villagers had responded to an immediate threat when they had come
to her aid, but expecting people whose major preoccupation was fishing to
follow her into battle was naïve in the
extreme. Besides, she still had
to find her companions. Mounting
up she headed down the coast, toward the region where she had been
shipwrecked. Somewhere she was
sure her friends waited for her. To
think otherwise was out of the question.
Raising her hand in farewell she cantered out of
town.
Sophora stood in the middle of the road
and returned her wave. Then the
young woman disappeared as Melissa rounded a
bend.
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