Barbarian Tales
Episode 1
Mistress of the Sword
by L'Espion
Chapter
7: Punishment
Shailaja awoke to the smell
of breakfast. The door to the
cabin was open and from the light coming through it she judged that everyone
had slept late. Remembering her
circumstances, she made no effort to move but lay where she was watching
what was going on. After a few
heartbeats Dain saw that she was awake.
“Ah,” he grinned,
“the warrior awakes. I expect
you are in need of a trip to the forest.”
Indeed she was, her bladder
full to bursting, but she gave no reply to the comment, instead speaking
angrily of her situation.
“You have waylaid and used a warrior of Kaltara against her
will. I demand to be
released.”
“Why would we even
countenance the notion of releasing one such as you?” Dain
laughed. “I’ve never
had a woman that good. Even the
third time you were still as strong and fresh as the
first. It’s going to be
a long winter and you will help to while away the cold and
darkness.”
“That is certain,
brother,” Lahn agreed.
“It was the will of Teloch that brought her to
us. We would be foolish to ignore
the bounty of the gods.”
“You are fools and
cowards to waylay an innocent traveller and to use her as you have done,”
Shailaja retorted. “This
was not the will of the gods and you will be punished severely for what you
have done.”
“Perhaps,” Dain
sneered. “But not by you,
warrior. I do not know the qualities
of the other Kaltaran women that masquerade as warriors, but you are certainly
at the bottom of the heap for all your
size. Now you will come with
me and we will see you to your needs.”
Shailaja’s anger at
these slurs was boundless, but she suppressed it, realizing that it would
serve little purpose to rage at her captors while in so helpless a
condition.
Dain untied the strip of
rawhide from around her neck and loosened the tether tying her
legs. Taking her by the arm he
pulled her from the bed.
Unexpected agony shot through
her as she rose from the bed and took her first
step. A startled gasp escaped
her lips, bringing another laugh from
Dain. “A bit sore are
we? Well, you’ll get used
to it, warrior. It’s going
to be a part of your life for the entire winter.”
He tugged her toward the
door and she followed, ignoring the smirks on the faces of Sheb and Lahn
and trying to ignore the burning in her
loins.
He led her to a spot a few
yards from the cabin where she could attend to her needs and then stepped
away to let her do it. She was
still nude and her nipples puckered in the cool mountain air, something that
drew Dain’s eyes like a lodestone draws iron, but he let her finish
before making any comment.
“Like the sweetest
of berries,” he grinned, raising a hand to pinch her
nipple. She flinched at the touch,
her nipples as sore as her loins from the pinching and biting they had received
the previous night.
“You will heal,”
Dain remarked. “We were
a bit rough with you last night, but the breaking in of a woman needs to
be vigorous to show her who is in
control. Tonight we will be gentler
to give you time to adapt.”
There was little Shailaja
could say to that. Clearly Dain
and his brothers had little fear of her, for all of her
size. And why should
they? She had offered little
opposition when they had taken her.
Perhaps if she had screamed and cried at the top of her lungs they
might have respected her more, but she doubted
it. Women to men such as Dain
and his brothers were things to be used for
pleasure. They were certainly
not the equal of men, and therefore not much to be feared, even if they did
carry a sword.
Shailaja expected to be
taken back to the cabin, but Dain turned her the other
way. “This way,” he
ordered. “We have to get
that stink off you.”
She was marched uphill,
Dain following. Her body protested
at every step, but she had to admit that Dain was
right. She did stink, and if
there was any place she could go to wash off the filth of her ordeal she
would go willingly.
They climbed a bit more
and then just ahead Shailaja heard the sound of
water. A few steps later she
emerged into an opening in the forest where a small waterfall plunged into
a deep pool. She knew that at
this elevation the water would be chillingly cold, but it was nothing that
she had not experienced in her homeland and without hesitation she stepped
into the pool.
It was cold, but she ignored
the discomfort and immersed herself in the pool up to her
shoulders. It would have been
a good deal better if her hands had been free and she said
so. “Bathing like this is
impossible. Will you at least
free my arms so that I can clean myself properly?”
“Not a chance,”
Dain replied. “Those long
legs of yours would carry you away from here like a deer if I let you
loose. And I am looking forward
to being between them again tonight.”
Glowering in anger she did
the best she could, moving over to the waterfall and letting the water cascade
onto her. It was bitterly cold,
but she forced herself to stand for as long as she was able, enjoying the
feeling of being washed clean.
Nothing, of course, could wash away the shame she had brought upon
herself, but there was nothing she could do about that.
She stood awhile longer
and then noticed something that gave her
hope. On the bank, Dain was shifting
from foot to foot, obviously impatient, but he could not reach her without
entering the pool himself. As
long as she stayed where she was she had a temporary respite from her
captors. But she had noticed
something else as well. Wet rawhide
stretches, and her arms and legs were bound with it.
Straining her arms she could
feel the thong binding her arms loosen.
If she could stretch it enough she should be able to get it
off. She strained harder and
felt a definite give just as Dain moved closer to the edge of the
pool.
“How much longer do
you need? He shouted.
“You’re clean enough.
Now get out of there before you freeze your shapely backside
off.”
Shailaja felt the rawhide
thong slide down her arms. With
a flick of her wrists she was free, but the waterfall concealed her
condition. Quickly she bent and
loosened the strip of leather that connected her
knees. She stepped from the waterfall
and splashed into the pool, keeping herself immersed in order to disguise
the fact that she was no longer bound.
If she could just get close enough to Dain she could overwhelm him
before he gave the alarm.
Just at the moment, however,
fortune turned against her once more.
Sheb and Lahn appeared at the top of the trail, apparently having
come to wonder where their brother and their captive
were.
Even at those odds Shailaja
would have chanced it, except for one
thing. Sheb carried his bow and
while she might be able to take them without weapons she would have little
chance against an arrow. There
seemed only one option left and she took it, turning and splashing across
to the other side of the pool.
“By Teloch she’s
loose,” Sheb yelled.
“Dain, you fool, why did you let her out of the
bindings?”
Shailaja surged across the
pool and out, gambling that Sheb would not loose a shaft into her
back. She scrambled up the steep
bank, scrabbling on hands and knees, intending to reach the
trees. Once there she would lose
herself in the forest and worry later what she was going to do about surviving
naked in the wild.
Something slammed into the
back of her head. It did not
knock her unconscious, but it dazed her and she slipped and fell to her knees,
sliding back down the slope. For
an instant, as she slipped partly back into the water, she thought that she
had been struck by an arrow. She
later learned, however, that Lahn had hurled his throwing stick; a weapon
used for hunting rabbits and other small animals, and had made a perfect
throw to the back of her head.
Splashing sounds alerted
her to the fact that at least one of the brothers had jumped into the
pool. She pushed herself to her
knees, but was too dizzy to do more than that before someone surged out of
the water behind her.
“Damned Kaltaran
bitch.” She heard Sheb’s voice just before something struck her
even harder on the back of her head and black spots danced before her
eyes.
She wasn’t knocked
completely unconscious, but was so close to it that she offered not the least
resistance as Sheb once again fixed rawhide thongs to her arms just above
the elbows, this time pulling them so tight that her elbows were just a
hand’s breadth apart.
“On your feet,”
he ordered. He used her hair
to pull her to her knees, the pain in her scalp helping her to shake off
some of her confusion. Then he
pushed her into the water, still holding her by the hair, and forced her
across the pond to where his brothers
waited. The shock of the cold
water shook off the last of her condition and she stood on the far bank while
the tether was once again applied just above her knees.
“You will have to be
punished for that, warrior,” Sheb
growled. “If we are to allow
you to serve us we must have distinct rules and running away is not one of
them.”
“But first some
breakfast,” Lahn said.
“I don’t like doling out punishment on an empty
stomach.”
“If you are trying
to frighten me, you are wasting your time,” Shailaja
retorted. “I can hardly
be punished worse than the shame you have already brought
me.”
“Shame she calls it,”
sneered Dain. “She certainly
moved her backside right well last night.
If that’s shame then all of the whores I’ve ever had showed
an equal amount of shame.”
Once again Shailaja was
afflicted by the curse of her colouring, a flush suffusing her cheeks and
quickly descending to her breasts.
“Look, she blushes,”
Lahn jeered. “I’m surprised
she has any pride left at all after the way she begged us to use her last
night.”
There was nothing Shailaja
could say to that and so she held her tongue, saying not a word more as she
was led back to the cabin. Once
there she was fed, but in a manner most humiliating for a
warrior. She was forced to her
knees and required to eat from the tip of Sheb’s knife, each piece of
meat cut up for her as if she were a very small
child. After that she had to
wait while the three brothers collected their equipment and hers and got
ready for the trail.
To make sure she got no
more ideas about running away the tether was once again placed about her
neck and tied to a tree, preventing her from moving anywhere at
all. She stood there, her skin
tingling in the cool mountain air and wondering what her punishment was to
be.
Shailaja didn’t really
fear pain, what she feared was that she might cry out when whatever was to
be done to her took place. The
waiting made it worse, as Sheb surely knew it would, and then finally everything
was in readiness and the three brothers returned for her.
She saw that Halvar had
been saddled and stood with the mules, and she wondered if she was to be
allowed to ride. If she was then
a single command and Halvar would carry her far beyond the ability of the
three brothers to catch her.
It seemed that she was soon
to find out as the brothers returned to where she
waited. “First the matter
of punishment,” Sheb said as he untied her from the
tree.
Leaving one end of the leather
thong tied about her neck he led her toward the front of the cabin as if
she was one of his mules. If
it was intended to add further to her shame it succeeded, but it was a small
thing compared to what had already been done to
her.
In front of the cabin was
a hitching rail constructed of two posts set into the ground and joined by
a crosspiece. He led her up to
it until the rail was pressed against her
belly. Then pulling on the leash,
he bent her over the rail until she was looking at the ground, her long tangled
hair cascading around her. With
a few quick twists of the leather Sheb tied her in position so that she was
bent over the hitching post; then he stepped back to admire his
handiwork.
“A fitting pose for
a warrior,” he jeered, “bent over so that she can be more easily
used.”
Lahn and Dain were standing
directly behind her and had a delightful view of her bottom and what lay
between her legs. It was too
much for them to ignore and they stepped forward placing their fingers at
the gateway to Selene’s Grotto.
Shailaja started at the
unwelcome intrusion, giving a slight gasp as her petals were
parted. Even worse than the shame
of being placed in so humiliating a position, however, was her reaction to
it. Within heartbeats she felt
the familiar surge of warmth within her as her inner fires once more began
to burn. Once again she had been
easily aroused by the touch of a man, but it was soon to become very much
worse.
Sheb’s hands were drawn
to her swaying breasts which were all too well presented due to the painful
arch of her back. She grimaced
as he pinched her nipples and squeezed her firm flesh.
“What is the matter,
warrior,” Sheb sneered, “is this not to your
liking? You seemed to enjoy it
well enough last night.”
“It is not proper to
demean a warrior so,” Shailaja
gasped. Once again her treacherous
body had betrayed her by turning bright red and she squirmed unconsciously
as Lahn and Dain continued to stroke her petals and caress her
bottom.
“I expect you think
this is your punishment, but it is not,” Sheb
smirked. “It is only the
preparation for that event. If
we are to keep you through the winter we cannot have you attempting to
escape. You must be obedient
at all times otherwise we will spend too much of our time watching
you.”
“Why do you not release
me then?” Shailaja gasped.
“You cannot watch me forever.
I am more trouble to you than I am worth.”
“I could never relinquish
such a prize,” Sheb replied.
“The winter will be long and you will provide a valuable diversion
for three men alone in the snows.
What you need to learn is
obedience. Forget this warrior
nonsense. You are a woman and
therefore created to serve men.”
“If you think me not
a warrior remove these bonds and we shall see,” Shailaja
rasped. The position of her binding
was a difficult one as in addition to being humiliating, it made breathing
difficult. Even raising her head
to speak to Sheb was awkward and tiring, and the continual touching of her
body by her captors had her badly
aroused.
“Perhaps I will,”
Sheb said, “but not just yet.
First you must learn to obey and the lesson starts
now.”
He strode away from her
and out of sight, leaving her to wonder what her punishment might be, but
reappeared a few heartbeats later.
In his hand he held a willow switch from which he was carefully peeling
the bark. “When a woman
is rebellious she must be taught the consequences of her
rebellion. In order for the lesson
to be effective it must be painful but leave her able to do her
duties.”
“That will have no
affect on a warrior of Kaltara,” Shailaja
proclaimed. “Nothing you
can do will be worse than the shame you have already
inflicted.”
“We will see,”
Sheb replied. “But I expect
you will scream all the same.”
He stepped behind her to the chuckles of Lahn and
Dain.
“I’d rather do
something else with her backside than cane it,” Lahn
observed. “But we can always
do that later.”
“Much later,”
Sheb agreed. “We’ve
already wasted enough time with her, but this must be done or she will continue
to plague us.”
There was a swish as the
willow withe cut the air and a sharp sting as it struck her
buttocks. For some tender maid
of the southern realms the blow might have meant something, but if Sheb thought
to make Shailaja cry out with so feeble an effort he was about to be sadly
disappointed.
“Lahn
laughed. “That was dismal,
brother; she didn’t even flinch.”
“Perhaps Sheb used
up too much of himself last night,” Dain
jeered.
“She’ll do more
than flinch before I finish with her,” Sheb
growled. The withe cut the air
again and this time the sting was harder, but nothing to make a warrior cry
out. The punishment was more
shameful than painful and Shailaja vowed
vengeance.
Angered by her complete
lack of response Sheb struck again, this time hard enough that the willow
wand broke. The fact that Shailaja
did not show the slightest regard for what he was doing hardly improved his
temper. “Bitch,” he
cried. “She will feel
pain. I swear
it.”
There was movement behind
her and the chuckles of Lahn and Dain.
“Better cut a much thicker wand, brother,” Dain
advised. “For all her beauty
she seems to have skin like leather.”
A hand caressed her bottom,
no doubt sampling the softness of her
skin. “Doesn’t feel
like leather though,” Lahn laughed.
“Stand back; she’ll
feel this one.” The command
told Shailaja that Sheb had returned although with what thickness of wand
she had no idea. She learned
a heartbeat later as the withe cracked across her naked
buttocks. Sheb was
right. She did feel that one,
but she still made no sound in spite of the sharp
pain. It was no light cane this
time, but a much thicker willow rod.
The blow stung painfully, resulting in a quick intake of breath, but
no other sound passed her lips.
Her defiance brought an
even harder blow. The pain was
great, and it would have been much easier to have given Sheb what he wanted
and cry out, but Shailaja would have rather
died. Clenching her teeth she
waited for the next blow. It
came, and with it severe pain, but Sheb in his anger had struck so hard that
his second switch was also broken.
Tossing away the broken
willow he cursed. “Teloch
take you, I will have your
obedience.”
There was movement behind
her and Shailaja could only guess at what Sheb was doing, but it drew a response
from Lahn.
“Take care,
brother. She will be of little
use to us if she is beaten so badly that she is
crippled.”
“I will have her
obedience,” Sheb replied.
“Without obedience a woman is
worthless.” Shailaja heard
him step toward her and then there was a different sort of swish and the
crack of leather as his belt struck her buttocks.
Sheb’s belt was an instrument
of pain that would not break and he used it liberally, striking her again
and again until the pain was so great she could barely hold back her
screams.
How long Sheb would have
continued to beat her, before he was satisfied Shailaja did not
know. She did know that she was
only a few blows short of screaming in
pain. One blow across the buttocks
is painful. A dozen is
excruciating. The number Sheb
gave her came close to achieving the obedience he
sought.
It was Lahn who saved her,
stepping forward to hold his brother’s arm just as he was about to strike
again. “Hold, brother,”
he said. “I sympathize with
your goal, but she will be of very little use with her backside cut to
ribbons.”
Sheb stared at her quivering
body. Shailaja was now not leaning
over the rail of the hitching post, but on it, her trembling legs barely
able to support her weight. She
was panting, struggling for each breath, and sweat dripped from her
body.
“You are right, she
is as a stubborn as our mules, but there are other ways to punish her that
will bring us more pleasure.”
“Brother,” Lahn
remonstrated. “Should we
not untie her and ready her for the march?”
“Thanks to the time
wasted on the wench,” Sheb replied, “the day is too far gone to
make the next staging post. But
there is still time enough for this.”
Shailaja could not see what
he was doing, but it took little imagination to determine what that might
be. Her guess was confirmed
heartbeats later when she felt him press against her bruised
backside. The touch of his body
was almost as painful as the blows he had been raining upon her and she gasped
in pain.
“Well should you
gasp,” Sheb commented, misinterpreting the sound of
pain. “A bit more of this
and you will be tamed.”
His member parted her
petals. Unlike the first time
when he had simply thrust into her, this time he teased her a little, probably
in the hopes of that the juices of Selene’s grotto would
flow.
But there was nothing within
her that would make that happen.
The fires that had burned the first time that she had been used had
been extinguished.
“You have used her
too harshly,” Lahn diagnosed.
“No woman can be beaten like that and expected to respond as
a woman should. It might be better
to let her recover before using her again.”
“I see no need,”
Sheb argued. “I am satisfied
with giving myself pleasure. If
she does not move well enough she must be beaten
again.”
“It is exactly because
of the beating that she will not respond,” Dain
argued. “You have dampened
her fires by punishing her too harshly.
She must be allowed to rest and recover.”
“She will recover when
I am through with her,” Sheb growled. Without further argument he thrust
hard into his victim.
This action got him the
result his beating had not.
Shailaja cried out at the sudden pain as he took her deep, ignoring
the fact that she was far from ready for
him. But Sheb was not in the
mood to pay any attention to her lack of
readiness. He plunged deep within
her, forcing her body to respond and then used her long and
hard.
In spite of their former
protestations, neither Lahn nor Dain saw fit to let their scruples stand
in the way of their enjoyment. They
both used her at length, leaving her too spent to even raise her
head.
Although it was just after
the
“I see how it arches
her back and presents her magnificent breasts for my scrutiny,” Sheb
countered. “But perhaps
there is something that could be done.
We have several days travel before us and we don’t want her holding
us up.”
“In the meantime,”
Lahn replied, “I will remove that which binds her
arms. The neck tether should
be enough to keep her where she is.”
There was nothing Shailaja
could say to any of this, but she was most relieved when the rawhide binding
her arms was removed. Too beaten
to do more than lay where she was, there was no need of the tether Lahn tied
to her neck, and she quickly drifted off into a deep and exhausted
sleep.
She awoke briefly sometime
in the night with hunger gnawing at her as well as the need to relieve
herself. Her backside throbbed
and the part of her body beyond her petals hurt just as
badly. She had been harshly neaten
and then well used and her body reflected the pain of that use and the
beating. All around her the hunters
snored loudly, but she found that the tether about her neck prevented movement
of more than the width of a few fingers.
Lahn had secured it somehow beyond the reach of her hands and she
gave up trying to untie it after a few unsuccessful attempts and allowed
herself to return to sleep.
She awoke again when the
brothers stirred. It was still
dark, the hunters rising early to prepare for the
day. Lahn came to her immediately
after lighting the fire. “I
will take you outside to see to your needs,” he
explained. “But first there
is a need to secure you properly.”
He produced a leather strap
that was probably intended for use when securing packs to the
mules. Shailaja noticed in the
flickering light of the fire that it had been modified somewhat and wondered
exactly what he was going to do with it.
Loosening the strap around her neck enough that she could sit up,
he placed the strap around her just beneath her breasts and fastened it behind
her back. At that moment she
could have struck out at him but the gesture would have been one of useless
defiance as she would have been at the mercy of the remaining brothers, so
she remained passive and waited to see what he was about.
From her upright position
she could see that Lahn or one of the other brothers had attached two smaller
straps to either side of the strap that now encircled
her. She knew at once what they
were for and it was confirmed a heartbeat later when Lahn buckled first one
and then the other of the straps to each of her arms just above the
elbow.
She frowned in exasperation
when she realized that this was the improved method of binding her that Lahn
had suggested. It allowed her
arms quite a bit of movement. By
bowing her head she could probably even feed herself, but she could not reach
the buckles on either side that held her arms, nor could she reach the main
buckle in the middle of her back.
It was a much more comfortable arrangement than the leather thongs
she had been bound with, but it left her
captive.
There was also one more
strap to apply. Lahn untied the
thong from her neck, but replaced it with a leather collar which he also
buckled in place. From it hung
a small length of chain of the sort she recognized as being used to hold
a trap in place.
She viewed the entire
arrangement with distaste, as it left her feeling even more like a captive
than it had when she had merely been bound with the rawhide
thongs. Lahn grinned at her
expression. “You don’t
like this do you, girl?” Well
you better get used to it. You
will wear these straps until you learn proper
obedience.” He finished
up by tying a leather thong between her
ankles.
Shailaja scowled at
him. She hated the way the brothers
referred to her as “girl,” as if she was no more than some helpless
child who needed the strong supervision of her
elders. She hated just as much
their sarcastic use of the word “warrior,” even though on reflection
she had to admit that in her encounter with the brothers she had much more
resembled a helpless girl than the warrior she claimed to
be.
Clearly they had
little respect for her, or her supposed fighting abilities, even though they
were not so foolish as to release her from the restraints they applied to
her.
“There,” Lahn
smiled, seemingly quite satisfied, “that should be a little more
comfortable. Now let’s get
you cleaned up.”
Once again Shailaja was
led into the forest, but this time Lahn kept hold of the chain making sure
that she did not try to bolt. She
was allowed to attend to her needs and then led to the same pool where she
had made her abortive escape attempt.
Every step she took was pure
agony. Not only was she suffering
from another round of heavy use from the brothers, but the savage beating
Sheb had given her had left her very stiff and
sore. However, she showed none
of the pain she felt, following stoically behind her
escort.
The bath in the cold water
of the pool helped. As before,
washing herself properly was impossible, but she did the best she could and
then we returned to the cabin.
There, breakfast was ready and after a quick meal, in which she was
able to move her arms enough to feed herself, the tether connecting her ankles
was removed and she was helped with her breeches and
boots. To her concealed dismay
her torso was left bare something that Dain could not help commenting
upon.
“It would be a shame
to hide these,” he grinned, giving her left breast a squeeze and twisting
her right nipple. “It will
give us something to look at other than mountain
scenery.”
Shailaja made no comment
concerning this indignity, simply adding it to the extensive list of wrongs
to be avenged. By now the list
was so impossibly long that she was having difficulty thinking up suitable
punishments for the three hunters who had violated her and subjected her
to brutal captivity.
Outside, the mules were
laden and ready to go and Halvar was
saddled. Sheb mounted Halvar,
the traitorous animal accepting him without the slightest objection, while
Lahn and Dain led the mules. The
brothers had decided to share her mount, each having a day on Halvar’s
back. Shailaja was led behind
Halvar like one of the mules, Sheb holding the lead.
It was intended to show
Shailaja her place, but instead it filled her with
rage. She was bowed, but not
broken. Forced to submit, she
walked behind Halvar, her eyes fixed ahead of her, waiting for her chance
to escape.
But her chance did not come
that day. They trekked until
late afternoon. The fact that
she was being taken back the way she had already come was of some
concern. She did not think it
likely that she had been pursued, but if she had then she was walking straight
back into that pursuit. But there
was nothing she could do about it until she managed to
escape.
That night they once again
stopped at a wayside cabin, one that Shailaja had ridden right
past. Once again it was set slightly
off the trail where only those who knew where it was could find
it. Once inside supper was prepared
and eaten and then the three brothers enjoyed her for dessert.
This time they used one
of the bunks, and holding her down they used her until they were
satisfied.
Already aching from the
previous two sessions, their use was hardly
pleasant. This time as on the
precious day, she did not respond, the ability of her captors to arouse her
seeming to have been lost. Needless
to say, her lack of desire left the three men far from
satisfied.
“Perhaps she has been
overused,” Dain theorized.
“She is only a girl, after all.”
“Only a girl,”
Sheb scoffed. “She’s
nine hands of red hair and muscle with a body like that goddess she
worships. She’s got breasts
like Selene, and thighs that can break a man’s
back. I’ve seen whores half
her size take on more men and ask for more.”
“What
do you think it is then?” Dain
asked. “She showed womanly
heat the first time we took her.”
“We’ve got to
knock this warrior nonsense out of her,” Sheb
answered. “From now on she
will be treated as she should be treated until she realizes who her masters
are.”
Shailaja could not imagine
how her treatment could become much worse, short of being beaten every
day. And she knew not how Sheb
planned to continue using her, but she soon found
out.
“Get off the bed,
girl,” Sheb ordered.
“From now on you sleep on the floor when we are not using
you.”
What he ordered was hardly
much of a hardship to a trained warrior, and Shailaja complied without comment,
moving to the floor at the side of the
bed. Once there Sheb forced her
onto her back and secured the chain about her throat so that she could not
move from where he had put her.
Although it was cold, the
vigorous manner in which she had been used, and the long walk behind Halvar
had left her so tired that she quickly fell asleep, not waking until
morning.
The next day matters proceeded
as before. Shailaja was readied
for the march, but not without some
debate. Sheb had decided that
it was only fitting she be forced to walk barefoot, but both Dain and Lahn
thought that it would leave her too crippled to keep up, and so she was allowed
to keep her boots. It was well
that she was, as something occurred that day that turned events to her
advantage.
The day proceeded as before
with her trotting behind Halvar. On
this day Lahn rode and Sheb walked, but the pace was brisk and she was forced
to step in a lively manner to keep up.
In spite of what had been done to her Shailaja’s warrior conditioning
allowed her to maintain a good pace, and it was soon Sheb and Dain who were
puffing.
At their insistence the
pace was slowed enough that both men could walk alongside
her. The position gave them great
pleasure as it enabled them to look upon the movement of her breasts as she
walked.
Dain went a little further
than that. By this time they
were approaching the top of the pass and were once again among the
snows. Scooping up a handful
Dain applied it to Shailaja’s breasts and then grinned in pleasure at
the hardening of her nipples. She
could do nothing to prevent this humiliation and both men greatly enjoyed
the touching and pinching that followed; actions that turned her red with
anger.
“Look how she
colours,” Sheb jeered.
“Do you not find it surprising, brothers that she can still be
so easily shamed after what has been done to
her? You would think her still
a blushing virgin instead of a woman who had been plundered so
freely.”
“Perhaps it is part
of that pride you speak so freely of, brother,” Lahn replied from
Halvar’s back. “I for
one rather enjoy the continued humiliation she is
brought.”
“But it is that same
pride that must be taken from her,” Sheb
countered. “Otherwise she
will continue to disappoint us.”
The talk continued in that
vein for the next half turn of the glass, the brothers chatting mindlessly
about how she should be properly disciplined and the merits of the various
punishments with which they might teach her proper
obedience. So absorbed were they
in their debate that they failed to observe what any experienced hunter should
have observed, and that was a sudden change in the
weather.
It came very suddenly, but
the signs of it were there before the winds struck had the three brothers
paid more attention to their surroundings and less to their discussion of
how Shailaja was to be disciplined.
The winds that suddenly
blew up were common in the Mountains of Storms at any time of year, although
they tended to be more frequent during the cold of
winter. They were fierce beyond
the power of any to withstand them; bringing blinding sheets of snow and
temperatures that would freeze exposed skin within a few
heartbeats.
Needless to say, Shailaja
was not well prepared to survive in such a storm, but the panic the sudden
arrival of the blizzard caused among her captors gave her the chance she
needed.
With frantic speed the brothers
rushed to prepare a hasty shelter.
They were fully equipped to survive such a storm had they been alert
enough to see it coming. Quickly
they unloaded the mules and herded all of them, along with Halvar into the
trees. Then they opened sheets
of heavy canvas and lashed them to the trees, creating a
windbreak. All of this was done
with frantic haste as the snow whirled about them and the temperature dropped
and the wind howled. Shailaja
was left alone in the middle of the enclosure, none of the brothers conceiving
of the fact that she might view this as a chance to
escape. They had good reason
to have confidence that she would not attempt to
escape. She was restrained in
the harness Lahn had made for her and was still naked to the
waist. In spite of the fact that
she was partly sheltered from the storm by being placed with the animals,
she was already shivering from the cold and could not be expected to last
long without shelter. But shelter
was not foremost in her mind. For
the first time since she had been captured she was not being closely watched,
and desperate as the situation was, she took advantage of
it.
Halvar, stood just paces
away, towering over the mules. In
two steps she was standing next to him.
In one bound she was in his saddle and kicking him
forward. With her arms secured
to the harness, mounting the plenya was not as easy as it might have been,
but any Kaltaran warrior worth her salt could vault from the ground to the
back of her mount without using arms or
stirrup. And as for guiding her
mount, she needed no reins as plenya are taught to respond to knee pressure
and spoken command. In moments
she had Halvar moving out of the makeshift camp and back the way they had
come.
Shailaja doubted that any
of the brothers even saw her go, so involved were they with attempting to
create shelter, and with the thickness of the storm, she was probably out
of their sight within ten yards.
Indeed, visibility was so
poor that she gave Halvar his head and let him find his own
way. Not being a particularly
foolish beast, Halvar headed for shelter and he soon took her among the trees
that lined the trail. She kept
him going, pushing him farther into the trees in an effort to get as far
away from her captors as possible.
However, she could not go far, her bare skin already turning numb
from the cold and she had no wish to escape merely to freeze to
death.
She halted Halvar in what
seemed to be a thick grove of trees and slid off his
back. Gripping the reins as best
she could she slipped beneath him, and pulled on the reins, at the same time
commanding him to descend. Teeth
chattering she let his massive bulk settle upon
her.
It may have seemed foolhardy
to risk injury by encouraging a beast that weighed more than a large horse
to lie on top of her, but actually Shailaja was in very little
danger. In the heavy snows and
intense cold of the northern lands, plenya instinctively huddle on the ground
as protection against the elements.
As herd animals they protect their young by lying on top of them and
using their thick belly fur to shelter them from the elements.
So far as Halvar was concerned
as he settled upon her Shailaja was a young member of the herd to which he
was offering shelter.
Buried in Halvar’s
thick belly fur she waited out the storm; if perhaps not in comfort, then
at least in warmth and safety. She
did not expect any of the brothers to come after her, but tried to stay alert
just in case. However, as good
as her intentions were, they did not last for
long. After but a short time
she closed her eyes and fell into the natural process called
sleep.
She awoke to a warm and
comfortable world; so comfortable that she would not have wanted to move
had if her body had not been badly cramped due to the fact that she still
could not move her arms.
Forcing her body to move,
she burrowed her way toward the light and found herself emerging into a blinding
world of white. She shivered
at the sudden change in temperature, her bare nipples hardening in a manner
that would have been most pleasing to the three hunters who had captured
and used her. The snow was deep
around her and if she was to survive without Halvar’s help she would
have to find proper clothing, but first she wanted out of the confines of
the leather restraint Lahn had placed about her.
Halvar remained kneeling
in the snow, which made it easy to access the packs that had been placed
on his back. Even hampered by
the fact that she could not move her hands more than the height of her shoulders
she was able to fumble through the packs.
She soon found the item she sought, a skinning
knife.
It was perfect for what
she had to do, and she cut through the leather strap just beneath her
breasts. After that it was short
work to get rid of the rest of her restraints, including the degrading leather
collar about her neck. That critical
task seen to, she then rummaged in the packs for some proper
clothing. She found none of her
own, but did find a heavy shirt that probably belonged to
Lahn. She quickly pulled it on
and then searched for anything else of
use.
With delight she found
Lahn’s unstrung bow and a quiver of
arrows. It was but the work of
a moment to locate the string and put it into proper working
order. She also found a leather
jerkin that she pulled on over the shirt.
Fortunately, Lahn was a big man and both fit close to her
size. Thus outfitted, it was
time to deal with the men who had abducted
her.
Shailaja would have preferred
to deal with them using her sword, but a single step revealed that she was
still far from the peak of condition.
Four days of continual use by her captors and the severe beating Sheb
had given her had left her far from her
best. She probably still could
have taken them, but the bow would probably prove to be the better instrument
for taking her revenge.
She knew that she was only
a short distance from where the men and mules had been when the storm struck,
so she moved quietly, leaving Halvar
behind. In but a short time she
found the trail. In spite of
the intensity of the storm, it was not true
winter. That event was still
a moon or so off, and although it was cold, where the sun struck the snow
it was already beginning to melt.
The snow helped her movement,
deadening the sound of her footfalls, although she had to move carefully
to prevent the telltale crunch known so well to
northerners. The heavy stands
of spruce and fir helped to hide her advance, and she was soon close enough
to hear the sound of voices.
“I say she is long
gone on that huge snow beast of hers,” Lahn
said. “It is a chance
lost. Her company throughout
the winter would have been most welcome.”
“She is gone,
alright,” Sheb replied.
“But not far I expect.
No one could get far in that storm without facing certain
death. She is close and we should
seek her out.”
“I am tired of this
discussion,” Dain protested.
“You are both wrong.
The girl was only half dressed when the storm
struck. She would have frozen
to death within a few heartbeats. I
expect come spring we will find her bones, provided they have not been scattered
by the beasts of the wild.”
“Perhaps you are
right,” Lahn reluctantly agreed.
“It is a great loss. I
shall deeply miss sucking on those great breasts of
hers.”
“Agreed,” Sheb
sighed, “although I preferred the tightness between her petals and the
strength of her thighs.”
“And her buttocks,”
Dain added. “Never have
I felt such power.”
Although she was hidden,
Shailaja blushed to hear herself spoken of is such a
way. But her flush of shame was
quickly replaced by that of anger.
Those who spoke had robbed her of the right to choose who would take
her, as well as heaping untold pain and humiliation upon
her. She put an arrow to the
bowstring and moved closer.
The brothers were standing
by their loaded mules, apparently in the process of breaking
camp. Like her they had apparently
risen late due to the storm and were just now ready to set
out. Without hesitation she drew
back on the bowstring and stepped from the trees.
Dain saw her first and froze
where he was, fear flickering over his
face. She remained unmoving,
her arrow trained in their centre, but not directed at any one of
them. And then Sheb looked
up.
He started, and then
grinned. “I knew you were
not dead, girl. Now put down
the bow and you will not be punished too harshly for attempting to
escape.” He took two steps
toward her before her arrow caught him in the thigh.
Shailaja was not one to
play games. She wanted vengeance,
but she was not the sort to taunt those who had offended
her. The brothers had greatly
earned punishment, but she was in no way interested in entering into an exchange
of words with them.
Sheb’s scream of pain
startled the mules and sent the other two brothers sprinting away from
her. A second arrow took down
Dain, the barb catching him in the
buttocks. She was not quick enough
to catch Lahn, but he was weaponless and she did not care if he
escaped. In spite of what the
brothers had done to her she had no desire to see them dead; at least not
by her hand. They might die or
they might not, but they would suffer first.
“Don’t kill me,”
Sheb begged. He was on the ground,
one hand clutching the shaft of the arrow in his
thigh. Shailaja saw that it had
gone straight through, but that it was probably not a fatal
wound. Ignoring him she proceeded
to where Dain lay. He too looked
up at her, shock over the pain of his wound reflected in his
eyes.
“What are you going
to do?” he gasped.
“Leave you,” she
replied coldly. And gave no further
answer.
Ignoring the injured men
she went to the mules and tethered them one to the other in a single
line. She then called Halvar
and when the huge plenya appeared from the forest, she placed him at the
head of the line.
By now Sheb and Dain had
determined what she was about.
“You cannot leave us here,” Sheb
protested. “Without the
mules and our gear we will die.”
“You are woodsmen,”
Shailaja replied. “If you
cannot survive you deserve to die.”
She removed an axe strapped to one of the mules and tossed it at his
feet. “With this you can
build what shelter and tools you
need.” She fumbled among
the packs and removed one more item and tossed it toward
Sheb. It was a small bundle that
she knew contained the medical supplies.
“If Lahn finds his courage and returns perhaps he can help you
with this.” Ignoring their
protests and cries for mercy she mounted Halvar, and without a look back
rode away, leaving them to their fate.
She felt not the slightest
remorse. Indeed, by the standards
of most peoples she was to encounter, her treatment of the men who had abused
her was mild indeed. They would
survive or they would perish, depending on their skills and their
courage.
Winter in the Mountains
of Storms would be harsh, requiring all of the skills the hunters possessed
in order to survive; especially with the wounds that she had
inflicted. But it was the least
that they deserved. They would
either live or perish through the own skills or lack of
them. And every moment of what
life remained to them would be filled with the knowledge that it was she
who had left them so.
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