Barbarian Tales
Episode 1
Mistress of the Sword
by L'Espion
Chapter 3: Captive
Shailaja lost track of how many leagues she and
her captors travelled. Exhausted from
her struggles, and with her head down over the back of Halvar, she soon became completely
disoriented. Her painful and degrading
journey seemed to go on almost interminably and every bump in the road threatened
to have her heave the contents of her stomach onto the ground that moved beneath
Halvar’s feet. However, she did not give
up hope. By now her absence would have
been noted and the other members of the hunting party would be searching for
her. The Kaltarans were all superb
woodmen and it would not take them long to pick up her trail. But then she remembered that Cleron was part
of the hunting party as well. No doubt
he would do his best to delay it as much as possible. However, she knew that her mother and father
would not be delayed for long. Once they
worked out that she had been ambushed and abducted, they would be after her no
matter what Cleron did; and any further attempts to hinder them would simply
throw suspicion upon the Emperor.
Somehow or other she would be rescued.
Her confidence in that event, however, was
quickly shaken when she realized that she was no longer moving and that her
captors were moving to remove her from the back of Halvar. Denov picked her up once again and tossed her
over his shoulder. “You two take the plenya
and lead a false trail,” he said to the other two men. “Then dump the animals and use the lake to
make good your escape. We’ll meet again
in Prithia.”
“Let’s hope so,” Veron replied. “I’ve no wish to be caught by the
Kaltarans. They won’t be pleased that
we’ve made off with one of their precious warrior women.”
“You know your orders,” Denov replied. “If you’re caught use the deathwort.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Denov
sneered. “But I don’t fancy taking
poison.”
“Just remember that the lives of your women and
children are in Cleron’s hands. Do as
you were ordered or they’ll die before you do.”
The conversation revealed to Shailaja that her
abduction had been well planned; almost too well planned. It appeared that Cleron had arranged for her abduction
even before he had asked for the marriage alliance, revealing a level of
cynicism and ruthlessness that few would have predicted. It also meant that any chance of a quick
rescue was much less likely. That fear
was confirmed moments later when she heard the sound of running water.
From her awkward position over Denov’s
shoulders she could see that they had stopped just in front of a wooden
bridge. However, Denov did not carry her
over it; instead he walked down the side of the bridge toward the water. Shailaja suddenly knew where she was, having
crossed the bridge before on previous hunting trips; and just as suddenly she
gained an inkling of her captors’ plans.
While two of them laid a false trail for any pursuers Denov would take
to the water. Just a league upstream was a long narrow lake
that pushed west into the formidable barrier known as the Mountains of Storms. If she was taken into that region she would
be almost impossible to track.
There was also another reason to be concerned
about the route they were taking. The Mountains
of Storms were rarely travelled even by Kaltarans. They were the known range of the feared snow
walkers and were thought to be inhabited by even fiercer beasts. It was a place that most Kaltarans stayed
well away from just on principle. With
her mouth gagged, however, Shailaja could not have given warning even if she
were so inclined.
Denov reached the water, and shifting his
weight, lowered Shailaja into a small boat.
He set her in the centre of the craft facing forward, and took up a
position in the stern. Using a paddle he
pushed the boat out into the swift flowing stream, keeping close to the edge
where the current was least strong. Dipping
the paddle strongly he began to push the boat upstream. Shailaja could see another reason why the
stream had been chosen. The terrain on
either side was rugged and thickly wooded.
Anyone pursuing by land would be easily outdistanced and it seemed
unlikely that any pursuers would soon determine that she had been taken by
water in any case.
She stared helplessly as she was carried
farther and farther away from rescue.
Her only consolation was that riding in the boat was far more
comfortable than being slung over the back of a plenya. It also gave her a chance to study the
shackles on her ankles. They appeared to
be made out of a single piece of metal that had been bent so that it would fit
around each of her ankles. A metal bar
held by a simple pin had been closed over the bent iron to tightly clamp her
ankles. It was a simple arrangement, but
one Shailaja could do nothing about unless she could somehow free her
arms. She guessed from the feel of the restraints
that clamped her just above the elbows that her arms were held by a device
similar to the one that clamped her ankles.
She also saw that struggling would do her not the slightest good. Unless someone helped her remove the shackles
she was a prisoner and would remain that way.
From behind her came the voice of Denov. “I’ll remove the gag as soon as we are far
enough away that there is no possibility of anyone hearing you if you scream
for help. Until then enjoy the ride.”
Shailaja would have liked to have told him that
a Kaltaran warrior did not scream for help, but that was not possible. Until he removed the gag she had no choice
but to do what he suggested.
It took Denov what Shailaja guessed was two
turns of the glass to reach the lake. It
stretched before them for as far as she could see, bordered by heavily treed
mountain slopes. Her spirits sank as she
realized that Denov could put in at almost any point along the shore, making
him almost impossible to track.
True to his word, Denov leaned forward and
untied the gag. Shailaja immediately
spat it out, glad to be freed from the odious device. Her mouth and throat were dry from having
been forced open for so long and her leather tunic was wet from the drool that
had flowed from her open mouth. She
found that the first part of her ordeal had left her desperately thirsty, so
much so that she would have had trouble shouting for help even if she had
wished to. Surrounded by water on all
sides she could do nothing except watch the banks go by and hope that something
would happen that would help her escape.
Unfortunately, nothing did. Denov paddled slowly down the lake, keeping
to the south side. From the way he kept
looking toward the shore, Shailaja guessed that he was looking for something. Then about half a league ahead she saw a thin
plume of smoke. Denov saw it too and
turned the boat toward it. As he neared
the shore several figures stepped from where they had been hiding and walked to
the edge of the lake.
“Hail, Denov,” one of them called. “I see your expedition went well.”
“It went perfectly, Surbin,” Denov
replied. “I expect the Kaltarans are
still blundering about in the bush looking for their missing princess.”
The men on the bank laughed and then helped
pull the boat onto the bank. “This is
the princess?” Surbin asked, giving Shailaja a hard look. “I can certainly see why Cleron wants
her. Have you had a good look at her
yet?”
“Cleron wants her untouched,” Denov
replied. “I have already had to warn Veron
away from her.”
“I just want to see if those jutting breasts
are as impressive as they look pushing out her shirt,” Surbin laughed. “Nothing more than that I assure you.”
“I don’t favour being anywhere near the Emperor
if he finds out we’ve been looking over his prize,” Denov answered. “What’s to stop her from telling him?”
Surbin turned his gaze back to Shailaja. “You might be right, but I’ve got a hunch
that Cleron wants this one broken.
Stripping her down would be a good first step. And if she’s like any Kaltaran I’ve ever met she’ll
be too damned proud to say a word about it.”
Two men stepped forward and helped Shailaja
from the boat. She found herself
standing facing Surbin. In spite of her
helpless situation she looked coldly into his eyes, saying nothing.
“Her arms and ankles are chained,” Surbin
commented, “but she stands like an empress almost daring me to do something to
her.”
“Perhaps she expects to be an empress once
Cleron is through with her,” one of the other men said.
“An interesting thought,” Surbin replied. “Then we’d be able to brag that we’d looked
upon the breasts of an empress.”
Shailaja heard this discourse with growing
anger and frustration. She could feel
the eyes of every man upon her, examining her impressive figure, particularly
her breasts which were thrust forward due to the painful pinioning of her
arms. She kept her gaze steady,
refusing to look away from Surbin who seemed to be the leader of her
captors.
“A proud bitch,” Surbin sneered. “I’d really enjoy breaking her.”
“She’s Kaltaran,” Denov replied. “What do you expect? They’re all a stiff-necked bunch.”
“She’s getting me stiff, just looking at her,”
Surbin said, lowering his hand to his crotch suggestively. “I can’t see that there would be any harm in
seeing what the emperor is getting.”
“Alright,” Denov said resignedly. “Just as long as looking is as far as it
goes.”
“No worries there,” Surbin grinned. “I value my cock too much to take any chances
that the Emperor might want it cut off.”
He moved as he spoke, reaching for the ties on Shailaja’s shirt.
“Touch a Kaltaran warrior and you will pay with
your life,” Shailaja hissed. Her throat
was so dry that the words did not come out with the force she would have chosen.
“Surbin laughed. “Well, she can talk. For a few heartbeats I thought you’d captured
a mute.” His fingers went to the ties of
her shirt and within a heartbeat he had it open, revealing her breasts.
“Impressive,” Surbin gawked, “it’s a real shame
to keep these hidden.” He reached out
and pinched each of Shailaja’s pink nipples.
“By the gods, they are as ripe melons.”
Shailaja’s reaction was not what she would have
wished. She flushed bright red, the
sudden colouring flowing from her face to her neck and then to her breasts and
belly. Fortunately she was spared
further humiliation by Denov.
“Enough,” he ordered. “You have seen her, now leave her for the
Emperor. He will not be pleased to learn
that you have dared to fondle his prize.”
Reluctantly Surbin stepped back, but no effort
was made to close Shailaja’s shirt.
Instead it was left as it was for the further pleasure of her
captors. There were eleven of them in
all, a sizeable group to escort a single prisoner, but then they were deep in
Kaltara and somehow had to get her to the Emperor without being caught.
As it was early afternoon, there was no further
activity for the rest of the day.
Instead, to Shailaja’s relief the twisted iron band was removed from her
ankles. It made escape no easier as it
was hard to visualize dashing off into the rugged mountain landscape with her
arms locked behind her. And in any case,
Denov continued to act as her personal escort.
He shepherded her toward a tent that seemed to have been especially
prepared with her in mind. It had been
erected using a living fir tree as a centre post. All of the branches had been trimmed from the
trunk, leaving it immovably secured to the ground. Hanging ominously from it was a heavy chain
attached to an iron collar.
Shailaja was ushered into the tent and the
collar quickly secured to her neck and locked in place by a large padlock. “That should hold you, princess,” Denov
stated. “I would advise you not to
attempt an escape in any case. The tent
will be watched on all sides and even if you do get out there is nowhere to
go. Now, kneel before me and I will
remove the arm shackles.”
Shailaja did not like the way the last command
was phrased, but she was more than eager to have the painful and humiliating
arm restraints removed. She knelt as ordered
and breathed a sigh of relief as her arms were freed. Immediately burning pain filled her arms as
the circulation returned. During her
time in the irons her arms had gone numb right down to her hands, and the
return of blood to her limbs was very painful.
However, she showed none of this to Denov, nor did she comment on the
fact that for her the wilderness about them offered few terrors. She had grown up in the woods and would have
little difficulty living off the land in the warm summer weather.
However, Denov’s warning about escaping proved
unnecessary. The heavy iron collar
prevented any attempt at escape. Perhaps
in time she might have worked out a way to break or pick the padlock, but she
wasn’t given that time. Instead she was
carefully watched, one of her captors sitting in the doorway where he could
keep an eye on her at all times. There
was one positive development and that was that she was brought food and
water. She was also able to close her
shirt, depriving her guards of their main entertainment.
However, there was little else she could
do. Finishing her food and water she sat
on the floor of the tent with her back against the centre pole and tried to get
some much-needed rest. Sleeping on the
ground was not the best, but exhaustion soon overcame her and she slipped into
a restless slumber.
She awoke long before morning and sat waiting
to see what awaited her. As Denov had
warned a guard sat in the doorway of the tent.
He grinned at her as he noticed she was awake. “Did you sleep well, princess? I hope you got plenty of rest. You’re in for a long ride today.”
Shailaja made no reply. She wished that her captors would stop
referring to her as a princess. Kaltarans
had no hereditary ranks, relying upon merit to choose their leaders. Politically Kaltara was a loose
conglomeration of clans, each choosing its own leader. Her parents, the Hasta were elected as
Warleaders by the other clan leaders purely on their ability to lead. As the daughter of the Hasta she enjoyed no more
advantages than the average Kaltaran warrior and was given no special
privileges. However, none of that
mattered now. Her family could not help
her if it could not find her, and her abduction had been so cleverly planned
she doubted that there was any proof that Cleron was behind it.
It took another turn of the glass for Denov to
show up. By that time the sound of
awakening birds showed that dawn was not long off. “Shackle her and take her to see to her needs,”
Denov ordered the guard. “Then bring her
back to the camp for breakfast.”
Shailaja did not even think of resisting as the
guard placed the irons on her arms once again.
Her bladder was almost bursting and resistance would have been futile in
any case, and would probably have simply given her captors a little more sport. Still, it filled her with shame to have the
guard pull down her leather trousers for her in order that she could relieve
herself. She found it almost as shameful
when she was led to the centre of the camp and fed by hand, her captors taking
no chances.
“She’s a fetching beauty,” the man spooning porridge
into her commented. “It’s too bad we
can’t have a little sport with her before we get her to Cleron. After all, how would he know?”
“He’d know alright,” Denov smirked. “According to our best sources the Princess
Shailaja is a bit of a rarity. A
Kaltaran slut who still has her virginity.”
“Why don’t we strip her and find out for
certain?” the man asked. “We could be
having a little fun on the way. It will
take us at least two weeks to get her to Cleron.”
Denov growled in exasperation. “This is my last word on the matter. Cleron has ordered that the Kaltaran princess
be brought to him as she is. I will
inform the Emperor of anyone who attempts to go against his orders.”
The last threat seemed to work. If anyone disagreed with Denov’s position
they kept it to themselves and went about the business of breaking camp. Within a turn of the glass they were on their
way.
This time Shailaja was placed on the back of a
plenya. In spite of the fact that her
arms were once again shackled and stretched behind her back, she was able to
keep her seat without difficulty. She
had been riding since infancy and needed no reins to guide her mount. Denov, however, took that out of her hands by
having her ride directly behind him, the reins of her plenya tied to the back
of his saddle.
They travelled that way for the next ten
days. Through good fortune the
unpredictable mountain weather remained warm and clear and as a result they
made better time than Denov had expected.
Shailaja recognized little of the country through which they travelled,
not having come that way before, but knew that every day brought her closer to
Cleron. For her it was a hard
journey. She spent dawn to dusk in the
saddle, her arms cruelly pinioned behind her.
Had it not been for her extraordinary physique such an ordeal would have
been crippling. As it was she arrived
stiff and exhausted at each day’s chosen campsite and offered little resistance
to her captors.
“I had heard that the warrior women of Kaltara
were something to be feared,” Denov sneered.
“But I’ve seen more spunk in a kitten that I’ve seen in you.”
Shailaja noted that he sneered this remark
after she had been chained to the centre post of the tent once again. “Release me from this chain and give me a
sword and you will see just how much like a kitten I am,” she retorted.
“I’d love to give you my sword,” Denov jeered,
motioning toward his crotch. “Perhaps
after the Emperor tires of you I might get a chance.”
There was little Shailaja could say to
this. For most of the ten days she had
been a prisoner she had been subjected to the jibes and insults of her
captors. There was no way she could reply
to then with any dignity, and for the most part she had given up trying.
“I have a little bit of news for you,” Denov
continued. “Something to look forward
to. We have arrived at our
destination. Now we wait for the
Emperor. He should be here in a day or
so.”
Shailaja felt her stomach flip, although her
expression remained unchanged. Finally,
after ten days of being a helpless prisoner she was about to meet the man who
had ordered her capture. It was
something she had thought about during the boredom of her captivity. And now it seemed the event was finally here. She could not help a feeling of intense
nervousness as she contemplated her fate.
Cleron had left no doubt of his desire for her and his reputation for
cruelty was legendary. The thought of
being completely at his mercy was more than frightening, but she showed no
emotion, holding her fiery nature in check.
Her reaction seemed to annoy Denov. “Scared to death aren’t you?” he
taunted. “We’ll see just how much of a
warrior you are. I’m betting you’re just
going to be another frightened virgin.”
His taunt came a little too close to the
truth. Shailaja feared no man, provided
she was allowed to face him with a sword in her hand, but the thought of facing
Cleron unarmed and shackled made it difficult to control her fear. However, there was nothing she could do
except wait. She was a warrior of
Kaltara and she would face her fear with the courage of her ancestors.
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