The Rangers of Aleera

Chapter 23

Conaire crumbled the missive in his hand. They had not fled to Tearmann as he had thought they would. He threw the crumpled parchment across the room. Where else would they have gone? There was no place, save King Liam's castle, that they could hide and he not be able to find them. And if they tried to make for the capital, his men would run them down before they reached it. Nikolai was still unable to perform his duties. The mercenary was lucky that the Desert man hadn't killed him. Although, Conaire was sure that had been what the Ranger had aimed to do. But at least the man was able to stay conscious now. The healers were astonished that he had even been able to survive his wound. He was one lucky bastard that was for sure. Conaire leaned back in his chair and ran a finger over the scar on his cheek as he had so many times before.

He hadn't expected her to fight back. They never did. They had always been too afraid to try. He'd had the elf girl since she was eight and had watched her bloom into a beautiful woman. While many of his slaves hunched over and averted their gaze when he was near, this one never did. She only averted her eyes. A slave did not look their master in the eye. She was a proud elf, the reason he called her Vashti. Perhaps that was what drew him towards her. Why he chose her. Vashti had been working the kitchens that night. He'd ordered the other two out with threats of punishment and had cornered her. Her shoulder-length hair was pulled back, a length of cloth tied around her head to keep it from her face. She wore a faded green dress that reached a few inches from her ankles. She wore dingy brown slippers, being one of the few that were lucky enough to have shoes. She was thin compared to most girls her age, although she was not skin and bones. Iron bands encircled her ankles, wrists, and neck, announcing her station in his house. He pressed her against the wall and leaned down to kiss her neck. She slipped past him, backing away.

"Your wife, Master...," she whispered. He heard the fear in her voice and he reveled in it.

"She needs not know."

Vashti tried to dodge him again and his fingers caught the chain ring on her neckband, stopping her escape. She gasped in surprise, her eyes widening. "Please..." They all begged for his mercy, fearing they had angered him. Her hands went to her band. She knew better than to touch him without his consent. "Please, Master, don't..." He saw the tears of fear beginning to rim her eyes.

"You will do what I wish of you and you will not speak of this to anyone. Do you understand?"

A tear fell as she realized his intent. Along with a defiant look in her grey eyes. "No." She struggled, trying to wrench her band from his grasp. "No, Master, please!"

"There is no use in fighting. Do as I say or you will be punished." He shoved her into a preparation table, knocking it over, along with utensils and serving ware.

She fell to the floor and tried to crawl away. He knelt and grabbed her ankle. She gasped as he forcible pulled her towards him. He flipped her onto her back. She tried to kick him but missed. He smiled as he saw the tears streaming down her face. He grabbed her hips and dragged her closer.

"No!"

He was on his knees now and reached for the hem of her skirt. Vashti grabbed the skirt herself to prevent him from lifting it over her hips. She tried to wrench away from him.

He finally backhanded her. "Be still! That's an order!" Forgetting her place, she took a swing at him. Her fist connected with his jaw. "Wench! How dare you strike me!"

He reached towards her throat. A sudden, sharp pain invaded the left side of his face and that side of his world went dark. He cried out as his hand went to his face, instantly feeling his blood flowing.

"Oh, Elohim!" The elf scooted away, a horrified look on her face. She threw down the bloodied knife and he caught sight of his eye on the floor. She would be severely punished for this. Once she regained her feet, she gave him a swift kick to the groin, before she turned and fled.

"Lord Conaire."

He started, not having heard the guard come into the room. "What?"

"There's a village south of the Whispering Wood," he said. "We believe the Rangers are taking refuge there."

"Then go and bring me the elf. Kill the others." The guard hesitated. "What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?"

"Sir,... um... the village seems to be having a bit of a... uh... Wolf Brother problem at the moment."

Conaire only grinned, a plan forming in his mind.

~~~

The flames of the funeral pyre had died down to embers. Dante was standing closest to the pyre. It always pained him to lose any of his Rangers. The villagers had all returned to the Temple when the pyre collapsed in on itself. The Rangers, Maitru, Ainnileas, and Mara continued to stand watch until the flames died. As Dante had feared, three of the Rangers they'd rescued had succumbed to their injuries, one having given up the will to live. He was thankful, though, that the dead did not number four. Jelina continued to fight for her life. Dante glanced over at Ruarc. He worried about how he would take it if she lost that battle. He'd already lost his close friend. He pushed the thought away. He didn't want to think of that. Ainnileas put an arm around his daughter and pulled her close to him. The Rangers wouldn't be the only ones that would feel her loss. The healers still weren't allowing anyone into her room. Although, they had finally allowed Tristan in. Dante was sure it was because the healers had grown tired of tripping over him. Mara had voiced that she thought she would recover quicker if her faithful companion was at her side. Dante prayed the girl was right.