Chapter 2: Death of a Prince

Shailaja’s journey to Prithia began the next morning, although not at all peacefully.  She had managed to get a few hours sleep, but was not at her best when Kaylan and his men came for her.  She had already been served a breakfast of oat porridge and venison and was on her feet when the door opened.

 

She knew what they wanted before they entered and decided to make it as miserable for them as she could.  The first man stepped into the room with his sword drawn, but he might as well have been holding a broom.  She stepped forward catching him by surprise as he no doubt expected her to back away from his drawn blade, and slammed her palm into the middle of his chest.  She followed this blow with a quick fist strike to the throat.  Either blow could have killed as they were delivered with the full force of her body, however, his leather breastplate and metal gorget saved him, the impact of the two blows merely serving to knock him back through the doorway and onto his backside.

 

She was not fighting to escape.  Given the odds and the fact that she was trapped, she knew that was impossible.  However, she had a point to prove, and that was that a warrior of Kaltara could not be treated in so shameful a manner without consequences. 

 

Given the outcome of the battle it might have been better had she submitted meekly, but it was not in her nature to behave in so craven a manner.  Her attack had the temporary affect of halting any further attempt by her captors to enter the cell.  Instead Kaylan appeared in the doorway.  “So you can fight,” he grinned, seemingly not the least bit disturbed over what she had done.  “I was beginning to think that the merchant had exaggerated your ability.  However, further resistance will simply result in your being severely beaten.”

 

“I have little to fear from a coward who fears to challenge a warrior openly, but instead uses hired scum to perform his treachery,” Shailaja replied contemptuously.  “Enter if you will, but you do so at your own risk.”

 

Kaylan’s face clouded with anger at this direct challenge to his manhood and without another word he forced his huge bulk through the doorway.  The advantage should have been entirely his.  He outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds and was taller and blessed with a longer reach.  In addition, the space in which she was confined measured barely three paces by four.  However, she did have a few factors in her favour. 

 

The first was the fact that although he was big, strong, and fast, she was faster.  The second was his overconfidence.  Like many big men he felt that his size and strength gave him all of the advantage that he needed.  He was also fully armoured, a factor that certainly added to his overconfidence. 

 

He had, however, seen how easily Shailaja had disposed of the first of his warriors, and in spite of his assumed superiority he came in with his hands held high, fists clenched, and ready to defend against any attack.  As a Nahnian prince, however, it was important that he did not show her too much respect.  To do so would diminish him in the eyes of his warriors, and so he did not quite give her the respect she deserved.

 

He came in a little too fast and too high, leaving his legs and abdomen unprotected.  Shailaja was not so foolish as to waste her time trying to drive her foot through his armour plated belly, but the inside of his thighs was a tempting target and one she took full advantage of. 

 

She struck hard, driving her foot into the inside of his leg just above the knee, the toe of her boot jamming into the bunched muscle just as his weight came down on it.  The blow had the desired result, not only causing excruciating pain, but destroying his balance, causing him to come crashing down to the floor of the hut. 

 

He recovered surprisingly well, but not well enough to avoid her next blow which was a straight kick to the head, followed by another and another in rapid succession.  She would have hit him again had not the rest of his warriors spoiled her fun.  They came boiling through the door like a bunch of aroused bees and she was forced to turn her attention to this new attack.  This time, however, she did not fare as well.

 

She got in one or two blows and probably caused some damage, but the men who attacked her showed almost no finesse, simply hurling themselves at her and trusting to the fact that she had only her hands and feet as weapons.  They took the blows she gave and then simply overwhelmed her. 

 

Kicking and punching, she was borne to ground and subjected to a thorough beating.  She tried to block as many blows as she could, but as she was being punched by five of six men, it was impossible to block all of the blows.  She tried to protect herself, by remaining on her back, but was struck repeatedly everywhere they could reach.  She was saved from serious harm only by the fact that so many were trying to hit her that no one could get in a really good blow.  All the same, she was soon rendered almost senseless and gave up trying to defend herself.  The beating would doubtless have gone on until she was severely injured had not Kaylan recovered and called them off. 

 

Kaylan did not save his rebellious prisoner out of any consideration for her.  In fact, his actions afterward clearly indicated that he had no concern for her at all.  But she was no use to him dead or so badly beaten that the Prithian emperor would not pay him the reward, and so he ordered a halt to the beating.

 

By that time Shailaja had little knowledge of what was going on around her.  She was vaguely aware of being picked up and carried outside.  Too battered to walk, she was carried further until her captors reached a two wheeled cart.  She was lifted up and pushed onto it, landing in a pile of loose straw.  She did not understand the significance of this until later as she was barely aware of her surroundings.  She only remembered Kaylan’s voice just before her senses faded.  “Make yourself comfortable, princess; this is going to be your home for the next few days.”

 

She understood what he meant sometime later when she finally awoke.  She was first aware of jarring movement as the cart bounced over every rock and bump in the road.  It was a sensation she would become used to over the next few days.  She next experienced pain, but not just a single sensation of pain, but pain in so many places that it felt as if her body was composed of layers of bruises.  She could not move a single limb or raise her head without a thousand throbbing needles being inserted into her flesh.  It even hurt to move her fingers. 

 

The pain, however, did serve one purpose; it prevented her from falling into a state of insensibility once again.  She was forced to take stock of her surroundings and became aware that she was riding in the back of a cart of the sort normally used to transports goods.  It was certainly not intended for the comfortable transport of people.  But there was little she could do about it as she found that a crude cage had been lashed to the bed of the cart and that she was within this cage. 

 

She soon determined, that crude as it was, it was impossible for her to escape its confines.  Unless someone let her out she was there to stay.  It was a terrible indignity and she felt like no more than a caged animal.  But there was worse to come.  Reaching full awareness she realized that she had a raging thirst, a characteristic that was common to most people who have suffered injury in battle.  Fortunately, she discovered that someone had hung a water skin from the top of the cage, and forcing her arms to move she retrieved it and held it to her lips to drink.  It was a tribute to her strength and powers of recovery, as well as her resistance to pain that she was able to move at all, but she managed it and drank deeply.  It was then that she became aware of another sensation, this one almost as unpleasant as the injuries she had suffered. 

 

Her bladder was filled to bursting and to her shame she found that she had already relieved herself while she slept, soaking her breaches through and leaving her even more miserable than she would have thought possible.  However, with her typical resilience Shailaja channelled her shame into thoughts of vengeance.  That she could be brought so low angered her to such an extent that for a short time she was filled with an all consuming rage that drove all other thoughts and needs from her mind.  However, it did not last long; her bursting bladder would not allow that.

 

Stifling a cry of pain she forced herself to her knees and gripped the bars of the cage.  She could not stand up as the top of the cage was so low that she could barely sit without her head grazing the bars, but in the swaying, bouncing cart, standing was not something she was inclined to do.  Just a yard from her was the driver.  “Stop the cart,” she demanded, putting all of her effort into not screaming in pain as she spoke.

 

Slowly the driver turned his head.  Shailaja saw that he was not a warrior like the rest of Kaylan’s men, but a probably someone hired for the job of carter.  “Now why would I want to do that?” he asked, above the noise of the road.

 

“Because if you do not you will be travelling with the stench of my filth in your nostrils,” Shailaja answered.  “But perhaps you would prefer that to stopping.”

 

By this time the fact that she was awake and speaking to the carter caught the attention of one of Kaylan’s warriors.  He moved his horse alongside and demanded to know what she had said.

 

The carter obliged him with an answer and the warrior grinned.  “I should just leave you there to enjoy yourself, but the prince might not like it.  Wait here, I will speak with him.”

 

Shailaja had no idea where he thought she might go, but it didn’t matter.  She slid back into the straw and enjoyed the ride, trying not to cry out at every bump.  Within a short time Kaylan dropped his horse back to join her.  He regarded her with clear displeasure.  “After your recent act of stupidity I should just let you foul yourself, but that would not do for what I have planned for you, so we will stop just ahead.  There is a stream where you can attend to your needs and clean yourself up as well.”

 

Shailaja was forced to hang on for another agonizing quarter turn of the glass before the cart halted where a small stream plunged down the mountainside and rushed across the road.  There the door of the cage was opened and she was allowed to stumble to the ground. 

 

To her chagrin she found that she was unable to rise and had to be helped to the side of the road where she struggled to remove her breeches.  She was in full sight of Kaylan and his warriors, but in her desperation she hardly cared.  Finally, seeing that her best efforts were not enough Kaylan ordered one of his men to assist her.  “Strip her,” he ordered, “and make sure she gets a bath before we proceed.  Then return her to the cage.  Keep her clothes; it may make her more cooperative.”

 

Painful and humiliating as it was, with the help of her captors Shailaja was able to attend to her needs.  Bathing was another manner, but the warrior helping her took her under the arms and unceremoniously dumped her into the plunge pool where the waterfall had hollowed out a small basin.  Fortunately, it was deep enough that she was not injured but the chill water took her breath away.

 

Although bathing in frigid waters was nothing new to Kaltarans, Shailaja was left gasping for breath.  But calling on her training and her last reserves of strength, she stood up to the cold and cleaned herself as best she could.

 

One benefit of the cold water was that it soon had her so numb that the pain of her injuries was eclipsed.  However, it soon became more than that as the cold began to seep deeper within her.  Fortunately, Kaylan was not about to be deprived of the prize for which he had laid out the equivalent of five hundred silver pieces and she was unceremoniously hauled out of the pool and stood naked and shivering beside the pool.

 

“Put her back in the cage,” Kaylan ordered.  “We’ll take a break and eat here before we push on to the campsite.” 

 

They remained by the waterfall while Kaylan his men ate a quick lunch.  Shailaja was served some it; a chunk of jerked venison and a piece of waybread washed down with cold water.  “Better for you than wine,” Kaylan observed.  “I want you healthy by the time we reach the lake.  I have plans for you.”

 

Shailaja could imagine what his plans might be, but his words let her know where they were going.  They were now travelling north toward Nahn.  From what she could remember of her geography the route would eventually take them along the shores of Lake Ellam where the travelling would be easier.  The lake was enormous, stretching for over a hundred leagues along the western flank of the Dragon’s Tail.  The boat traffic that used the lake was much faster than the road and she suspected that Kaylan intended to take her aboard a ship and complete part of the journey by water.  She had already been imprisoned once aboard a ship and feared that she would not be so fortunate as to escape twice.  It alerted her to the fact that she had to do the best she could to restore her strength in the hope of escaping before they reached the lake.

 

In this Shailaja was helped by the gods.  As in all mountain regions the weather could be capricious and Sulla, the god of storms smiled upon her and sent a sudden mountain storm that made the road they travelled impassable.  The storm blew up so suddenly that they barely had time to get the cart off the road and into the trees before it struck.  Rain poured down in sheets, cutting visibility to just yards and drenching all of them before quick shelters could be erected. 

 

Shailaja was left to last while Kaylan and his men hastily stretched sheets of canvas between tree trunks.  Fortunately, the yeggers, although startled by the blinding lighting and crashes of thunder, had the good sense to remain where they were rather than dashing off into the storm and taking her with them.  Eventually a sheet of canvas was stretched over her cage, leaving her to sit on the wet straw and contemplate her fate.

 

Too miserable to sleep in spite of her pain and exhaustion, Shailaja sat on the floor of the cage and waited for something to happen.  The rain pelted down, drenching her crude shelter.  It didn’t take long before water was leaking through the canvas roof and her miserable situation was made even worse.  After some time the lightning and thunder died down, but the rain continued falling steadily, turning everything around her to a watery landscape.

 

From her vantage point she could see that the road was now a river.  Any attempt at travel would be impossible if not suicidal.  It finally dawned on her captors that the sudden mountain storm was a bit more than temporary and they decided to set up a more permanent camp.  It took a little longer for Kaylan to realize that he could not leave Shailaja where she was.

 

“I need you healthy when we reach Prithia,” he explained as he opened the cage door.  “That means I have to let you walk around.  You’ll camp with us until the storm blows over and then we’ll find some other way to accommodate you.”

 

With the help of Kaylan she joined the rest of his men around a fire they had managed to get going in the shelter of the giants roots of a huge fir.  Concealed in the gnarled curve of one of the great roots, the fire was out of the rain and they had managed to find some dry wood under the spreading branches of the other trees. 

 

Shailaja was allowed access to the fire, and warmed by its heat she soon felt much better.  However, she was carefully watched by Kaylan and his men.  In truth, there was little chance that she would attempt to escape.  The brief exercise in walking from the cart to the fire had caused her so much pain that she knew escape was impossible.  She would have to wait until she recovered from the beating she had suffered and hope that an opportunity would present itself.

 

For three days it rained and they stayed where they were.  During that time her strength steadily improved and her bruises healed.  On the third day the sun returned, but they waited one more day to give the road time to dry out and to allow the tents and other pieces of canvas time to dry as well. 

 

The delay went a long way toward restoring Shailaja’s health.  And she also learned a bit more about her fate from one of Kaylan’s warrior companions.  The man’s name was Torlen and he took a personal interest in informing her as to what awaited her in Prithia.

 

“You’re a fetching enough, bitch now that you’re healed up,” he commented as he set down the bowl containing her evening meal.  I can see why Sered is so interested in you.”

 

Her curiosity piqued and with nothing better to do, considering her drab existence, Shailaja rose to the bait.  “And who is Sered?” she asked. 

 

“You’re surprisingly stupid for someone who fights do well,” Torlen sneered.  “Do you really mean to tell me you don’t know the name?”

 

“It means nothing to me,” she answered.  “Why should I know it?”

 

“Sered is the Emperor of Prithia, you fool.  The son of the man you murdered.  He has taken a very strong interest in you.”

 

It was interesting news; more interesting than she was willing to admit to the oaf who was taunting her and so she said nothing.  But Torlen was not about to let her get off so easily.  “He has let it be known that he intends to complete what his father began.  He wants you brought before him in chains and is determined that you will serve as his personal slave.”

 

Shailaja was not quite sure what the role of personal slave involved, but she had little doubt it would be a life of abject humiliation.  She resolved to either escape or die in the attempt before she was brought before the vengeful emperor.

 

On the fourth day they set off again.  Once more Shailaja was placed in the cage and forced to endure the jolting and bouncing of the cart.  Her clothes were not returned although she was allowed to keep the blanket, and she huddled in the straw, the blanket wrapped about her, and tried to make the best of it.

 

It was a damnable existence for a warrior.  Used as she was to freedom and exercise Shailaja found the tedium of the cart ride and the confinement of the cage almost unendurable.  To be forced to suffer two whole months of such treatment was a torture so great she could hardly contemplate it.  Instead she focused on thoughts of freedom and plotted her escape.  To this end she studied her captors, watching their every move and hoping to learn enough about them that it might give her some small advantage.

 

Kaylan kept a close eye on her and seemed to know what she was thinking.  On the seventh day of her capture he pulled his horse alongside the cart and spoke.  “Do not think of escaping.   You ride in the cage for now because you are too weak to walk, but I have noted how quickly you heal and know that you will soon entertain such thoughts.  Be assured that before you are well enough to survive on your own steps will be taken to ensure that you complete your journey to Prithia.”

Shailaja was given no hint as to what those steps might be and she did not ask.  But she was relieved to learn that she was not to spend the next two months in the cage. 

 

It was the next day that she learned what Kaylan had in mind.  They had come to a place where a fast flowing river boiled out of the mountains.  Here a timber bridge had been constructed to bear traffic to the other side and a village had sprung up on the north end of it.  There was, of course, the usual toll collector, but that did not affect Kaylan.  Instead he was instantly recognized and welcomed into the village with a good deal of bowing and scraping on the part of the village-folk. 

 

Shailaja was an important object of attention as well, although she hardly welcomed it.  But she could not stop the villagers from swarming around the cart to have a look at the caged redheaded warrior.  The fact that she was nude almost certainly added to the attraction.  The people resembled Kaylan and his men in that they were dark-haired with olive complexions.  For the most part they appeared to be woodsmen or hunters and trappers of some sort.

 

However, the town also had a blacksmith and it was to this man that Kaylan directed the cart.  “Make a set of irons for her,” Kaylan ordered.  “I want something that will allow her to walk, but keep her from running away.”

 

The smith came out to study Shailaja.  “That’s an impressive piece of woman-flesh you’ve got there, my prince.  I’ll work something up that will keep her by your side.”

 

“Excellent,” Kaylan replied.  “We are staying by the mill tonight.  Have the work finished by tomorrow morning.”

 

The mill was a large wood frame building housing various pieces of machinery for cutting and shaping logs.  On one side of it was a building where sawn timber was stored.  It was really just a roof supported on eight log pillars, but there was enough room under it to provide Kaylan’s expedition with shelter for the night. 

 

Kaylan took no chances.  He let Shailaja out of the cage, but returned her to its unpleasant confines as soon as she had attended to her needs and eaten her supper.  The next morning she was taken to the smith.

 

It was not a visit Shailaja would have paid willingly, but Kaylan did not let her out of the cage.  Instead the cart was wheeled over to the smithy where the smith waited, a set of heavy shackles slung over his shoulder. 

 

“These should do,” he said.  “There is no lock, but once I hammer them on they should stay.”

 

Kaylan had all of his warriors with him, and they were needed, as Shailaja was most uncooperative.  It took four of them to remove her from the cage, pin her arms to her sides by binding her with rope, and then drag her to the anvil.  Even though she was not at full strength she put up a good fight and got a few hard kicks in before she was properly restrained. 

 

Once at the anvil a heavy shackle was placed on her right wrist and while one man held it in place on the anvil, the smith hammered it closed and then locked it with a red-hot rivet.  The same was done to her left wrist, leaving her shackled by a long length of chain.  It allowed her to move her arms and use her hands, but it placed her under the control of anyone who held the chain. 

 

“From now on you ride,” Kaylan said.  “We will make much better time without the cart.”

 

Allowing Shailaja to ride meant returning her clothing, or at least most of it.  Because of the shackles she could not put on her cotton shirt, but she could replace her breast band and sling a cloak about her shoulders. It did not conceal her assets from the admiring eyes of her captors as much as she would have liked, but it was an improvement on total nudity.

 

As Kaylan had promised, from then on she rode.  A horse was found for her, and although it was not the quality of the beasts Kaylan and his men rode it could keep up with them well enough.  The length of the chain connecting her shackles allowed her to handle the reins of the horse herself, but there was little chance of escape.  Kaylan wound the centre links of the chain around his saddle horn preventing her from entertaining any ideas of galloping off.  Any attempt to do so would simply have resulted in her being yanked from the saddle and deposited painfully upon the ground. 

 

That day and the next few they made much better time.  Shailaja had to admit that in spite of the humiliation of the shackles she found the arrangement much more suitable.  She was able to ride and was spared the jarring and shaking of the cart.  At the end of the day, in spite of a certain soreness due to the fact that she had not ridden for awhile, she felt much better than she had after a day of riding in the cart. 

 

Kaylan must have thought so too, as her day did not end with the setting up of the camp.  Instead, he remained on his horse after she had dismounted, still in control of the length of chain.  “It is time to properly restore your strength,” he said.  “And to that end you need a bit more exercise than a ride can provide.  You and I are going for a run.”  With that he kicked his horse into motion, forcing her to run after him to prevent being dragged. 

 

After so many days of inactivity Shailaja’s body was not used to such vigorous exertion, but she quickly adopted the long easy stride she had used for most of her life and followed after him. 

 

Kaylan did not look back until he had forced her to run several hundred yards at a relaxed pace then he turned in the saddle to observe her progress.  She could not help noticing that his eyes were drawn immediately to her breasts as they moved to the rhythm of her body.  He smiled in obvious enjoyment and then turned back to force his horse to greater speed. 

 

Soon he had her running flat out to avoid the painful indignity of being dragged down the road and it was not long before she began to reach the end of her endurance.  Sweat poured down her forehead, running into her eyes, and the rest of her body was spotted with droplets of moisture as well.  She was not yet fully recovered, her body still marked from the beating she had received, and the sudden exertion after more than a week of inactivity soon had her panting for breath.  Fortunately, Kaylan saw this, and dropped his horse to a walk and eventually brought it to a halt.   

 

From his lofty perch he regarded her with poorly disguised lust and his comments made his interest more than obvious.  “I can see what Cleron saw in you.  In spite of your unusual colouring you are a most impressive woman; perhaps the most impressive I have seen, if your martial skills are truly as remarkable as have been reported.”

 

“That is a strange compliment from a warrior who sees no shame in an act of betrayal worthy of the most common of bandits,” Shailaja gasped, barely able to speak.  “Put a sword in my hand if you care to test my skills and you will see if the reports are true.”

 

“I see no reason to debate matters of honour with you,” Kaylan sneered.  “You are my prisoner and you will do well to mind your tongue when dealing with me.  I will treat you as I see fit.  My only concern is that you reach Prithia and the emperor in good health, and I see that you are well on your way to that.  Tomorrow we will repeat this exercise and continue with it every day after that until you are fully restored.”

 

With that he kicked his horse into motion and took her back the way they had come, but this time more slowly.  Even at the reduced pace, however, Shailaja had to admit that when she finally reached the camp she was truly in need of rest. 

 

The next day the exercise routine was repeated, and so it went for the next five days, until it became obvious that Shailaja had regained most of her former conditioning.

 

By now the painful bruises that had covered most of her body were gone and she glowed with good health.  True to his word Kaylan made sure that she recovered and she was well fed each day, eating the same food he and his men consumed.  Thus it was that on the seventh day of her nightly exercise she was surprised when he turned his horse early and headed back to camp.

 

“I see that you are nicely warmed up,” Kaylan observed, grinning down at her.  This evening I have another form of exercise in mind for you that will require all of your stamina.”

 

Shailaja knew immediately what he meant.  It was hard to ignore the way his eyes devoured her body each time he gazed upon her.  Already flushed from her exertion, her complexion darkened even more at the indignity Kaylan threatened. 

 

“What right have you to suggest such a thing?” she raged.  “To take a warrior against her will is the height of dishonour.”

 

Kaylan’s eyes went to her heaving breasts.  The short run had indeed warmed her up, and her torso glistened with sweat.  Her nipples were hard against the fabric of her breast band, simulating a state of arousal she did not yet feel.  But something stirred within her as she drank in Kaylan’s bulk.  Once again she wondered what it would be like to have that mountain of a body pressed against hers, and now it seemed that willingly or not she was going to find out.

 

That vision occupied her mind all the way back to camp where she discovered that Kaylan’s men had everything ready for the pleasure of their leader.  A tent had been set up apart from the others and any ideas she had about resisting were eliminated as they closed about her as soon as Kaylan halted his horse.

 

Still panting from her run, she was forced to her knees and the chain connecting her wrists arranged in such a manner that she was rendered helpless.  Her arms were pulled behind her back and a metal link used to shorten the chain so that she could not move her wrists more than a span.  Then she was force-walked to Kaylan’s tent, a man on each arm, and two more close by. 

 

As befitting his princely status, Kaylan’s tent was as large as the tent used to house all of his warriors.  Shailaja was pushed through the doorway and then onto her knees in front of their valiant leader.   

 

“Even panting like a dog, and bathed in sweat you are truly magnificent,” Kaylan said, as he stood over her.  “As a matter of fact, you may be even more magnificent because of it.  If you were not so valuable I would consider offering you a place as my swordmate.”

 

“I would prefer a liaison with a scullion to one with you,” Shailaja growled.  She strained at the chains attempting without success to break loose from the link that shortened the chain. 

 

“You have no idea how much that excites me,” Kaylan responded, his eyes moving to her quivering breasts.  “And in spite of your protests I have seen the interest in your eyes when you look at me.  I know that even now your body heats with the thought of what awaits you.”

 

“That is not true,” Shailaja protested.  But unfortunately, Kaylan had it right, and the weakness of her words betrayed her true feelings. 

 

“Even now your body betrays you,” Kaylan gloated.  He moved forward as he spoke and knelt before her.  “I will have you and I will leave you with a special gift for the Emperor of Prithia.”

 

“A gift?” Shailaja gulped.  “What do you mean?”

 

“We have a month together before we reach Prithia and I claim my reward.  That is more than long enough to get you with child.  You have been my prisoner for almost a moon and I doubt that any drug you have taken to prevent conception will still be in effect.  When you are finally taken before Sered you will be carrying my child.”

 

Shailaja swallowed in fear.  What he said was undoubtedly true.  She had held herself apart from men for almost a year and had refrained drinking the brew made from the leaves of the senna bush.  Her womb was almost certainly fertile ground for Kaylan’s seed.

 

“You cannot do that,” she protested.  “No warrior should have a child forced upon her.”

 

“As I have said,” Kaylan grinned, “you are my prisoner and I will treat you any way that I please.  And it pleases me to honour you with my seed.”

 

“Are you too stupid to realize that the Prithian emperor will have me executed?”  Shailaja objected.  “I will not live long enough to carry your child to term.”

 

“I think not,” Kaylan answered.  “I know that Torlen has told you of Sered’s interest in you.  He wants vengeance and what better way to take it than to force the murderer of his father to serve him on her knees and back?  You may die or you may not; but not until the emperor has taken his full measure of pleasure from you.”

 

The callousness of Kaylan’s reply left Shailaja without words.  That he would first force a child upon her and then turn her over to a man who had relentlessly pursued her for over five years revealed a character completely devoid of any qualities beyond those of satisfying his own distorted view of the world.  And she was completely at his mercy. 

 

As Kaylan finished speaking he pulled away her bandeau, allowing her breasts to fall free.  He cupped each of them in his large hands and gave them a gentle squeeze that soon turned into a painful mauling of her tender flesh.  “Seldom have I seen or touched more perfect breasts.  Had I known Kaltaran women were so beautiful I would have made an effort to capture one before this.”

 

He stepped back, and while Shailaja watched helplessly, he stripped off his armour and then his clothing.  His movements were quick and sure and she felt her excitement mount as each piece of equipment and clothing was discarded.  Eventually he stood before her clad in nothing more than his breeches.    

 

“I have noticed your eyes upon me,” he said.  “Am I as pleasing as you imagined?”

 

Shailaja could not deny that he was.  He was massively muscled; his chest broad and deep, his shoulders and arms powerful from years of weapons training.  Each muscular thigh was like the trunk of a tree and between them, still hidden but a clearly visible bulge between his thighs, was a member to rival Sturm’s.  Shailaja swallowed, unable to answer, and thus gave Kaylan the answer he wanted.  She gave only token resistance as he finished removing her clothing, her breathing increasing and her body experiencing the familiar warming.

 

“You protest and struggle,” Kaylan grinned, “but you have wanted this since the first time you laid eyes upon me.  And now it is my pleasure to give you what you want.”

 

He pulled her to him, laughingly avoiding her attempt to knee him where it would do the most good, and used his own knees to push her legs apart.  She struggled mightily, unwilling to be used again by a man without her agreement, but succeeded as usual only in exciting him more.  Kaylan threw aside his loincloth revealing a manhood throbbing with life and every bit as large as she knew it would be.  She could not help a gasp of appreciation and a moan of anticipation as he bent her backward using his great strength to easily overpower her.

 

Helpless, she whimpered in pleasure as he nuzzled her breasts and cried out as he took her engorged nipples into his mouth.  He sucked them hard, raising them into stiff, throbbing points. And then his hands found her tender mounds, massaging them mercilessly, bringing both pleasure and pain.

 

Shailaja arched back, supporting her weight on her hands and offering her upturned nipples and swelling breasts for further punishment and pleasuring.  Kaylan eagerly complied, his tongue rasping her nipples and his teeth pinching the sensitive flesh, eliciting gasps of delight from her lips.

 

Although shamed by her response, she could not control it, pressing her body against his and moving her legs further apart in invitation.  However, she had not completely fallen under Kaylan’s influence.  “Do not do this,” she gasped.  “It shames you as a warrior to take another warrior against her will.”

 

“I see no warrior before me,” Kaylan sneered, “just a woman desperately in need of that which lies between a man’s legs.”

 

Kaylan spoke truly.  Her desire was almost overpoweringly strong, but strong also was the fear of his promise to place his seed within her.  There was no greater shame than to be forcibly impregnated by an enemy.  “Do not do this,” she pleaded.  “No warrior should be forced to bear the child of another.”

 

In answer he bent his head to her nipples once again while at the same time moving his hand between her thighs.  There was no holding back her cry of passion, or the response of her body.  It made her protests seem foolish, especially when Kaylan parted her legs further and then gripped her backside, pulling her toward him.  As his heavy member touched her petals she moaned in anticipation. 

 

Slowly he rubbed his member against her, stimulating her to the point of uncontrolled desire.  She longed for him to take her, but struggled as if fighting to escape.  “Would you like me to stop?” he asked as his moved his body in such a manner that his maleness parted her petals and drank of the dew within. 

 

“Yes,” Shailaja replied through gritted teeth, and then when he complied groaned in protest. 

 

“I think you lie,” he stated.  Suddenly he moved his hips forward, and gripping her bottom tightly, entered Selene’s Grotto.  Her unbridled cry of pleasure proved the truth of his words and the falseness of hers.

 

“You … dishonour… me,” she gasped, and then whimpered in desire as he claimed her further.

 

As Shailaja had noted, Kaylan’s weapon rivalled that of Sturm, and he made good use of it, driving deep within her while she writhed beneath him.  She continued to struggle, but her moans, whimpers, and groans, combined with incoherent prayers to Marana gave the lie to her resistance.  Soon her body was moving with his. urging him to take her deeper, harder, faster.  And Kaylan was more than willing to comply.  He used her hard, driving deep within her until she screamed in pleasure and pain until finally they both lay exhausted, their passion spent. 

 

Kaylan, however, was far from finished.  His stamina matched any man Shailaja had ever known and he soon recovered and took her again.  And then again.  Each time she rose to the challenge, matching his every movement, until finally satiated, they slept the sleep of fleshly exhaustion.

 

Morning found Kaylan awake and moving, but it was a different matter for her.  Not since Shailaja had been used by Sturm had she been made so sore by a single man, and in spite of the fact that she found the sensation entirely pleasurable, it was also a reminder of her shame and Kaylan’s promise to force her to bear his child.   

 

Kaylan loosened her chains so that she could dress and then escorted her outside.  The rest of the warriors were already awake and had prepared breakfast.  They exchanged knowing grins with Kaylan and directed lascivious leers in her direction.  Shailaja refused to look at them, staring straight ahead.  That a warrior should be given such scornful treatment filled her with anger, but there was little she could do except ignore the ache between her legs and make her way down to the small creek to wash.

 

She bathed under the watchful and very interested eyes of her ever-present guards.  She felt no shame at her nudity, but the bruises on her thighs and the bite marks and bruises on her breasts were marks of shame she could not hide and attested to the hard use she had received.  It hardened her resolve to escape and take vengeance on those who had wronged her.  She vowed to Mirana that before she was finished she would repay all those who had wronged her.

 

Shailaja mounted up as before with Kaylan holding the chain that bound her wrists.  There was no escape unless she could find a way to wrest it from him, but he had it secured to his saddle so she rode as before, and waited for her chance.

 

It came sooner than anticipated and in a most unexpected manner.  The road they travelled was much narrower than the one the caravan had taken toward the high pass.  In places the trail narrowed until it was barely wide enough for a single rider to pass.  At such points anyone approaching would have had to retrace his steps in order to make way for Kaylan’s party.  However, they were fortunate enough not to encounter any other traffic in these areas.  In fact, they encountered little traffic at all.  It was that fact that made Shailaja realize that Kaylan was travelling by a rather obscure back road, as the path they rode was hardly suitable for wagons.  She wondered at this and could come up with no other reason than the possibility that Kaylan wished to keep his prize captive out of sight.  This was confirmed when the trail merged with one that was much more heavily travelled and they began to encounter other traffic.

 

“Put this on,” he ordered handing her a heavy cloak outfitted with a hood.  “And make sure you tuck your hair in and wear the hood up.”

 

Shailaja had not thought of it before, but if she was indeed worth her weight in gold, then she was a prize many might want.  Kaylan and his men were skilled warriors, but there were only six of them and if anyone else realized who she was they just might make an attempt to take her from her present captors. 

 

She did as she was told, folding the cloak about her so that it hid her body, and raising the cowl so that her face was shadowed.  To anyone giving her a casual glance she was just another tall rider.  Among Kaylan’s warriors she would not be too out of place in spite of her lack of weapons and armour. 

 

It seemed to work.  Although most others they encountered gave the six mounted warriors a strong look, no one challenged them and for the most part Shailaja was ignored.  That was fine by her, because although she was still a prisoner at least she knew the quality of her captors.  She had no wish to fall into the hands of someone who might treat her worse.  Kaylan had used her heavily, but at least she was spared being used by the rest of his men, even if it did mean he intended to get her with child.

 

They rode until mid-afternoon and then stopped at a stream to water the horses and give them a chance to rest a bit before pushing on.  “There is a small town ahead,” Kaylan proclaimed.  “Tonight we stay in an inn.  It will be enjoyable to take you in a real bed.  I expect I’ll be able to last a little longer.”

 

Kaylan seemed quite pleased, but this was hardly good news for Shailaja.  The more often Kaylan used her the greater the chance his seed would take root in her womb.  She had no intention of allowing him to take her to Prithia, but if he did she could well imagine the emperor’s reaction when he discovered that she carried another man’s child.  However, things were about to take a dramatic turn.

 

In spite of the fact that she was shackled and Kaylan held the end of the chain that shackled her, she was closely escorted.  Two warriors rode to her left while Kaylan was to her right.  Another rode directly behind and two went before. 

 

However, Shailaja knew it was still a long way to Prithia.  Guarding her this closely would be almost impossible for the entire distance and she bided her time.  They rode steadily throughout the day, slowly dropping in elevation as they got closer to the lake.  They now encountered more and more traffic going the other way, but as before most paid them little attention.  The ease of their passage and the closeness to the lake relaxed Kaylan and his companions.  They laughed and joked as they rode and Shailaja did nothing to change their mood.  Let them think her the helpless captive, subject to their every whim.  They would learn differently if the situation changed in her favour; and change it did.

 

Coming toward them was a large herd of yeggers.  Normally the three-horned beasts were docile in nature.  However, they are also lacking in intelligence and when frightened they can react in unexpected ways.  As was normal when moving yeggers they were linked together in pairs by a heavy yoke.  Each yoke was then linked to the yoke of the pair behind it.  This not only made them easier to control, but it kept them from wandering all over the road.  There were well over a hundred of them and they were being led by several men on horses as well as flanking riders.  The drovers eyed Kaylan and his party warily as they approached, but seeing no hostile action on their part they took no action. 

 

Such was not the case with Shailaja.  She acted almost instinctively, turning her horse toward the nearest rider as he passed.  She had no intention of hurting him, at least not very much, but he had something she wanted; the sword sheathed at his side. 

 

She was on him before he even realized what she was doing.  A blow to the head dizzied him, and then her hand found his sword and she jerked it free of its scabbard.  Her actions caught everyone by surprise, including Kaylan, who must have thought her docile after leading her quietly for leagues at the end of the chain he held. 

 

With a blade in her hand she spurred her horse directly for Kaylan.  There was little choice.  He still held the chains that shackled her wrists and if she wanted to be free she had to force him to drop them; by killing him if necessary.  As for his companions the choice was theirs.  If they chose to fight she would kill them as well.

 

Kaylan saw her coming and tried to pull in the chain, but Shailaja was too close for this to work and with a curse he let go of the links and drew his sword.  The contest appeared entirely one-sided.  Kaylan was a huge man and possessed of enormous strength.  He was also heavily armoured and rode a superior horse, but Shailaja was quicker and had the advantage of catching him almost at a standstill.  She hurtled into him, her horse catching his in the shoulder and staggering his mount, giving her the chance for a quick strike.

 

Kaylan carried his sword in his right hand, which was on the side of his horse that was away from her.  He struck, but was at the end of his reach and she easily caught the blade of his sword on hers.  In spite of the fact that her wrists were still chained there was enough slack between them that she could wield her sword effectively.  Due to the two-handed technique she had learned from Den and practiced assiduously, she was carrying her sword in her left hand.  It allowed for a powerful counterstroke; one that Kaylan could not avoid.  At the last second he ducked beneath the blow and instead of striking him full on the helm, a blow that almost certainly would have been fatal had it landed, the blow was deflected, glancing off his helm and striking his right shoulder.  Nevertheless, the impact numbed his shoulder, making it impossible for him to hold his sword.  As his blade fell from his fingers she wrenched the chain free from his saddle and turned to face the rest of his men.  Kaylan’s warhorse lurched forward, carrying him away from further damage. 

 

Shailaja could have followed, but she was busy with the other warriors.  She paid no attention to Kaylan as his horse carried him to safety.  Thus it was that she did not learn of his fate until a few heartbeats later.

 

It took her that long to deal with the remaining five warriors who were no doubt horribly surprised to find that their once compliant captive could fight better than any of them.  She struck one of them from the saddle with a left handed blow and then switched her sword to her right to deal with an opponent on that side.  The maneuver caught him off guard as he had thought her exposed and unable to respond to his attack.  It was apparent to her that none of her opponents were familiar with fighting an adversary who could swing a blade with either hand. 

 

The defeat of two of their number had the remaining three warriors reeling in shock.  “She is bewitched.  A demon,” one of them shouted.

 

In spite of their fear, however, they were all true warriors.  None of them ran and she had to battle all of them to ensure her escape. 

 

Fighting on horseback is quite different from battling on foot and it was fortunate that in her years with the Ravens Shailaja had been in the centre of many a cavalry charge.  Her opponents were skilled warriors, but they lacked her experience, and Shailaja had met few who could match her in battle in any case.  She charged directly into them, taking advantage of their momentary hesitation following the death of the first two of their companions.  A single blow took Torlen out of the saddle.  Another was unhorsed when she broadsided him with her horse, and the third she disarmed and then struck from the saddle with two quick movements of her blade.  It was a simple matter to deal with the warrior on the ground after that.  Finished with her brutal work she turned her attention to Kaylan and a possible attack from the men herding the yeggers.

 

Fortunately for her and for the drovers as well, they made no effort to attack her, but stood watching as she rode toward them.  None of them were warriors although there were a few who might have been good in a tavern brawl.  In spite of the fact that she had attacked one of them and taken his sword they remained where they were. Although several raised crossbows as she rode toward them.

 

“Lower your weapons,” Shailaja shouted.  “I have no quarrel with you; only with the men who kidnapped and abused me.”

 

Perhaps it was the fact that she had just defeated six Nahnian warriors in only a few hundred heartbeats, or that none of those she faced were true warriors, but none of those escorting the yeggers made the slightest move to oppose her.  Leaning out of the saddle she appropriated two blades from those she had defeated and then tossed the sword back to the man she had struck.

 

“I apologize for my actions,” she said, “but I was set upon and made prisoner by those I just defeated and when the chance for escape presented itself I took it.  I will see that you are compensated for any injury or slight you have suffered.”

 

This offer was readily received.  Typical of all merchants and most men Shailaja had known, they put their love of coin ahead of their sense of honour, and they were quite happy to accept the slight insult she had offered them in return for personal gain. 

 

What she was most curious about was Kaylan.  The injuries she had dealt him were not enough to have killed him, but Marana was not smiling upon him that day.  She had not seen what had transpired after she had disarmed him, but she learned from one of the drovers that his horse had surged forward, carrying him into the line of yeggers.  Startled by what seemed to be an attack, the normally passive draft animals panicked and acted to defend themselves. 

 

Yeggers are huge animals, standing as tall as a horse’s head at the shoulder and in body they resembling gigantic cattle.  Their heads are also cow-like, but have three horns, two of which spread out to either side of their heads just above the eyes and then jut forward like those of most cattle.  The third horn lies between the two and curves upward.  To be caught on those horns is a painful if not fatal experience. 

 

Unfortunately for Kaylan that was his fate.  He was hurled upon the horns of one of the yeggers and without a thought the powerful beast launched him skyward.  No doubt still suffering from the blow Shailaja had dealt him, he landed hard, the impact breaking his neck.  It was an ignominious end for a warrior and one that Shailaja would not have wished upon him in spite of what he had done to her. 

 

He was still alive and able to speak as she knelt over him.  “So you have won,” he grunted.  “I should have guarded you better.  Now I will never see the son I seeded within you.”

 

He was not to know it, as those were his last words, but his seed had not taken.  His eyes glazed over and assumed the stare of the dead.  Slowly Shailaja got to her feet.  Events had not worked out entirely to her satisfaction.  Kaylan was dead, but not by her own hand, and his death had been most inglorious.  However, what she needed now was freedom from her chains, and that was something else the drovers were able to offer her.

 

“Remove these chains,” she said, turning to the drovers, “and you may have the horses and gear of the slain warriors.  I will keep just one horse and one set of armour.”

 

The drovers approved of the offer and within a short time Shailaja was free of the chains.  By good fortune they carried with them a hammer and chisel and were able to shear the rivets closing her manacles.  She kept a wary eye on them as they used it, fearing that they might try to take advantage of her, but no one seemed interested in assuming such a risk and within a short time she was free and on Kaylan’s horse.  She also took his armour and weapons as due to his size they fitted her best. 

 

Thus mounted and equipped she turned her horse back the way she had come.  A few days’ ride away was the treacherous caravan owner who had betrayed her.  He had something of hers that she wanted and she intended to get it back.  Iznad would learn to his sorrow what it meant to betray her.

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