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Bridled Lust Page 6
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‘Bitch!’ he hissed, panting for breath and trying to recover some composure. ‘Playing games, are we?’
Opal smiled sweetly at him, but the smile did not reach her eyes. ‘I thought it was you playing the game, sir,’ she said. ‘I am merely waiting for you to show me some sign of being able to fulfil your earlier boast. I thought you wanted to have me for your slave so keenly, but it would appear that perhaps I don’t appeal to you quite so much as I did just a while ago.’ She stood very upright, lowering her sword to her side and placing her free hand on her hip, blatantly displaying her nakedness to Rolf, and Demila was unable to suppress a gag stifled giggle.
‘I’ll fuck the life out of you before I’m finished,’ Rolf snarled. ‘I’ll spike you on one weapon and then spike you on another to finish your insolence!’ Even before he had finished speaking, he leapt forward again, blade whirling. There were three hollow clangs as Opal parried it in quick succession and then a sharp yell from Rolf as she pressed a strike through his guard and danced clear again. A trickle of red began to ooze down his sword arm, from a small wound just below his shoulder, but he feigned to ignore this and prepared to engage again.
This time, however, he advanced with more caution, offering his sword for Opal to parry, but the warrior girl would not be drawn. Instead, she simply bounced to her left and kept going, forcing her opponent to turn with her and waiting for him to make a more positive move. This he suddenly did, jumping forward, but now in a crouch, his sword scything low at her legs.
Unfortunately for him, however, Opal’s legs were high in the air by the time the sword reached where they had been and, as she seemed to fly past him, once again she used the flat of her blade, this time bringing it down across the top of his unprotected skull with a dull thud that suggested to the onlookers that the bone might have cracked.
But Rolf apparently had a thick head, for although he staggered and dropped to his knees in a scrambling crawl, he was rapidly up again, although unsteady on his feet for several seconds after regaining them. Opal did not waste this advantage. Twice, three times, she darted forward, turning aside his defensive attempts and nicking away, once on his shoulder, once on the top of his free arm and finally drawing a thin line of red along the top of his chest, just below his collarbone.
The audience roared its approval and Demila would have clapped her hands in delight, had they not been securely cuffed behind her back, for it was now plain for all to see that the slight blonde was more than a match for her older and heavier opponent and that, barring some unforeseen disaster, she could finish him whenever she chose to.
She did not, however, appear to be in any hurry, continuing to toy with Rolf, nipping and nicking away at him until his upper body and the tops of his thighs were covered in scratches and small lines of blood. The expression in his eyes had long since changed and the watchers could see that he now fought on through fear, as aware as they themselves were that he was a beaten man.
Then, suddenly, it was all over. As Rolf made another desperate attack Opal feigned as if to weave away from him, but then, at the last moment, she changed her balance and met him head on. Her sword was a blur of reflected lamplight. One blow slapped across the wrist of his sword hand, another slapped sideways across his upper hand and then her foot flew out, catching him squarely in his open crotch and drawing a wail of agony from him as he toppled forward onto his knees.
In another moment Opal was behind him. The hilt of her sword slammed down into the nape of his neck and again her sword flashed, still flat bladed, smashing the knuckles that still tried to clutch the hilt. The hand flew open as Rolf pitched onto his face and another kick sent the sword spinning across the dusted mud floor. For the briefest of moments Opal stood, poised in victory and then she fell upon her adversary, rolling him onto his back. His eyes, though still open, were glazed and uncomprehending.
‘Knife!’ Opal snapped, looking up at Farridan. There was another flash of metal and a knife appeared, quivering in the mud by the girl’s knee. She gave a feral grin, tossed her sword down and plucked the smaller weapon from the ground. From the watching men there came a sharp intake of sympathetic breath, but not one of them made a move to stop her as she seized the semi-conscious Rolf’s testicles in her free hand and then neatly removed them with a single sweep of the razor-sharp dagger.
‘Bind his wounds,’ she said flatly, standing up and tossing aside her trophies like some unwanted offal. ‘If he bleeds to death he’ll be worthless to you. As a eunuch, you’ll probably still find a fair price.’
Suddenly, as if at some secret signal, a dozen or more crossbows were raised, their deadly bolts all aimed directly at Opal. Demila let out a small cry, expecting to see the triumphant Valkyr slaughtered in a hail of iron, but if this unexpected turn of events surprised her, Opal did not betray that. Instead, she regarded Farridan squarely.
‘Is this treachery, old man?’ she demanded. She turned the dagger in her hand and Demila wondered if she would have time to throw it at the head man before she was shot through and through, but Pecon quickly leapt up between them.
‘Not treachery, pretty Valkyr,’ he said soothingly, raising his empty hands before him. ‘Merely the old rogue wishes to protect his skin, even before you showed him that the rumours he dismissed were no rumours at all.’
‘Then bid him let me go, as was agreed,’ Opal said.
Pecon shook his head. ‘He’ll let you go,’ he assured her, ‘but in my charge, bound as when you arrived here, and you have my oath that I shall release you when we reach Sorabund. After that, of course, if you choose to return later, well then that will be a matter between you and he.’
There was a long and heavy silence in the room, broken only by the low moaning sobs from the huddled form of Rolf, who lay clutching his groin, trying to stem the flow of blood from where his testicles had previously been attached to it.
‘Your oath, you say?’ Opal said at last. ‘And who are you?’
Pecon shrugged. ‘Just a man,’ he replied. ‘Just a man who has never given his oath falsely in many a year.’ Opal narrowed her eyes, studying his face and then, after a briefer pause, reversed the knife again and slowly extended it towards him.
‘On your oath be it then,’ she said quietly, ‘for I believe you know what it would mean to give it falsely to a Valkyr.’
Corinna lay quietly on the coarse grass, staring up at Halit’s silhouette as he fumbled with his belt and breeches. The protective leather triangle lay on the ground beside her and she could feel the damp warmth of her juices as they trickled out onto the backs of her parted thighs.
His foreplay had been crude but unhurried, and her nipples throbbed from the constant nipping of his teeth, her buttocks stinging from the sharp slaps he had delivered to them as he kissed and fondled her. She had groaned and writhed, but not in any attempt to break free and not just because she recognised the futility of such an effort. Rather, once again her inner demons had been given full lease and in her helplessness she craved for the final fulfilment.
‘Yes, I think I must definitely try to have you as my own when this campaign is finished,’ he whispered, dropping to his knees between her legs. Corinna peered along the length of her prone body and saw that he was already erect, his long and surprisingly thick weapon standing up ramrod straight. She gave a little whimper and tried to wriggle towards him, but Halit placed a hand on her belly.
‘Not so fast, pretty Flix,’ he chuckled. ‘First you must ask me.’
‘Ask you?’ Corinna feigned ignorance, though she well knew his game.
‘Yes, ask me, as your master,’ Halit said. ‘Ask me to fuck you?’
‘Oh yes!’ she cried suddenly. ‘Oh yes, please my master; fuck this worthless little pony slave. Make her come and make her yours forever!’ Her plea was not as false as she would have had it, however, for the fires were raging in her now.
Halit paus
ed, extending one hand to insert a finger deep inside her, turning it until he found her swollen nubbin, which he began to rub slowly. Corinna let out a squeal that sounded barely human to her ears and raised her buttocks as she tried to thrust herself up for him.
‘Good,’ she heard him say. ‘Very good, my pretty Flix. Beg me once again.’
‘Yes, please master, I beg you! Please - oh please, torment me no more - fuck me!’
A moment later she felt him at her entrance, pressing against the folds of her lips, forcing them aside and driving deep into her with one massive thrust. Corinna wriggled her useless hands in their bonds and beat her weighted feet against the hard ground. Above her, Halit gazed down into her tortured face and smiled the smile of the conqueror.
‘Pony slut,’ he chuckled, brushing one sticky finger across her forehead. ‘Pretty little pony slut. And now, Princess Tits, you shall have your good fucking, indeed you shall!’
Opal had allowed herself to be secured in the slave belt once more, several crossbows ensuring her compliance, but she had baulked when Pecon produced a hood for her.
‘Why must I?’ she demanded. ‘I am not a slave, not now nor at any time, and you gave me your oath you would release me in Sorabund.’
‘And so I shall, lady,’ Pecon assured her. ‘However, apart from my oath I also value my life, and I desire very much to get far enough along the road to be able to keep both of them. I know for a fact that there are two of your countrywomen somewhere in these parts, and where there are two, there may well be others.
‘One look at that face and hair and they would have me as vulture meal without awaiting any explanation I might offer and, unlike Farridan there, I have seen enough of Yslandic efficiency to not want to test its mettle personally. Now, stand still while I bundle up this hair of yours and still that tongue, or I’ll gag you the same as little Demila.’
‘You would not dare!’ Opal snarled, but they both knew that the mercenary slaver would do exactly that, for there was something about the air of the man that belied his apparent fear of retribution. Young and inexperienced as she was, the novice Valkyr recognised a fellow fighter when she saw one.
Having effectively disguised his charge, Pecon seemed in no immediate haste to depart, but continued bartering with the villagers for some of the other slaves they were offering. The dark girl who had first entered with Opal - her name was Ganda - was purchased for a fraction of her true worth, Pecon reminding Farridan of how much he was in his debt for having saved him from a terrible fate and taking Opal off his hands.
‘Besides,’ Pecon laughed, ‘it’s not as if you paid for any of your stock, you old rogue. Now, let’s see what else you have.’ He refused even a cheap price for Rolf, who had been handed over to the women to have his wounds dressed, explaining that it was not practical to take a convalescent on the journey north, but did give a fair price on two light skinned Vaal country girls and two more slightly darker girls whose origins were probably much further south. He also bid for the original slavers’ wagon, complete with the various accoutrements of their trade, plus a string of six ponies, more than enough so that each of his new acquisitions could ride, rather than walk.
Completing the transaction with two bags of meal and two wicker baskets filled with fresh vegetables, Pecon directed two of the young village boys to refill all their canteens and announced that he intended to depart forthwith, though by this time it was past midnight.
‘I prefer not to share a roof with those cutthroats,’ he told Demila, as they rode away into the darkness again. He had removed her gag and fed and watered her as the final preparations were being made and now she rode at his left hand, as the sulking Yslander rode at his right. The four smaller girls rode just behind them, while the Colrasian girl sat awkwardly in the driver’s seat aboard the wagon, managing to hold the traces to the two horses, even though her hands remained cuffed at the sides of her belt.
‘They would surely not try to harm you, master?’ Demila said, surprised. ‘I sensed too much respect from them for that.’
‘A perceptive child you are, little slave,’ Pecon replied, ‘but your perception yet needs the greater depths that come only with experience. Farridan himself would not dare confront me, nor would he wish to, for we have traded many times over the years, but Farridan is growing old now and there are those among his people who would perhaps have a different outlook.’
‘And you yourself would fetch a fine price for the arenas of Maravania,’ Opal said, breaking her self-imposed silence at last. ‘I suspect you would acquit yourself well in the gladiatorial games they favour so much there.’
‘You have travelled to those parts, lady?’ Pecon asked. It was not so surprising, he thought, for although they were a long way from Maravania and its squabbling neighbour, Dasnia, Yslandia itself sat in the northern reaches of the seas that separated them from Illeum and the eastern continent, and Yslanders travelled as frequently and freely through those lands as they did through any other.
‘I went with my mother, many years ago, when I was young,’ Opal replied.
Demila tried to see Pecon’s face in the gloom and barely suppressed a giggle, for Opal had still at least two more years to go before she left her teen years behind.
‘We watched at some games,’ the hooded Valkyr continued. ‘It was quite interesting, for there were some fine warriors on show. You have seen those games yourself, I venture?’
‘Oh yes,’ Pecon muttered. ‘Yes indeed, and at far too close quarters, believe me. Now, enough of your women’s chatter. We would not hear if an entire army was trying to creep up on us. Just ride on, while I fall back and check that we have no unwanted company riding with us.
‘There’s a good place ahead where we can make camp safely, out of sight of the trail, but we have some hours of riding yet before we reach that haven and then several more days’ hard travel before we reach the borders of Sorabund, so save your strength and try not to fall out of your saddles. I don’t want to waste time picking any of you up and remounting you - at least, not remounting you in the saddle!’
The sound of his low chuckle reverberated on the still night air, as he wheeled his mount and began cantering back the way they had come.
Chapter 2
Jorkan of Karli upended the leather purse and tipped its contents onto the baked earth between himself and his nephew, Paulis. The younger man raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘Is that it?’ he demanded. ‘I thought we had a lot more than that. There can’t be more than four silver telts’ worth of rubbish in that little lot.’
‘There isn’t,’ Jorkan retorted gruffly. His grizzled features contorted into a grimace. ‘I gave ten telts for that horse you’re now riding and another two telts for the food and wine we bought from that farmer. Shame he had so many large sons, but sometimes we do have to pay for what we want.’
‘What about the rest?’ Paulis looked confused. ‘What about the money we got for what we did with that Savatch fellow and his stupid whore. I know it all went wrong, but you told me they had given us some money on account.’
‘They did,’ Jorkan said, ‘but only a fraction of the full amount and we shan’t get that now, as I don’t need to tell you. The best we can hope for is that those bastards never catch up with us, otherwise being short of money will be the least of our troubles.’
‘I don’t need you to tell me that, uncle,’ Paulis snapped. ‘But I’m getting tired of all this riding around in circles and camping up in the middle of nowhere. Why don’t we just ride on somewhere and get as many miles between them and us as we can?’
‘Because, my foolish young kinsman,’ Jorkan said patiently, ‘we’ve already seen that they have patrols all over this area. Quite what’s going on, I have no idea, but you saw all those Vorsans from the hilltop yesterday and you saw all their outriders.
‘That looks like some kind of invasion force to me, son, and I r
eckon there could be more behind that little lot and possibly more ahead of them. So, if we ride north or south, we could ride straight into more of them and if we ride west over the mountains, we’re going to need more supplies. It gets cold up there even at this time of year, and it’s not the sort of journey to undertake on an empty stomach.’
‘What about east?’ Paulis suggested. Jorkan shook his head and looked skywards.
‘What about it?’ he sighed. ‘There’s damn all east of here except maybe a few farmsteads and a handful of scrubby animals, unless you count Karliean tribesmen coming north to plunder, Snow Kingdom bandits coming south for the same reason and eventually, if we ride far enough, the barbarians in the Silk Kingdoms, who don’t take kindly to any westerners entering their lands without a proper invitation, which we don’t happen to have.’
‘Then what do you suggest, uncle?’ Paulis demanded. ‘We’ve hardly any money to buy more supplies and all the farmsteads we’ve seen around here are too big and too well protected for us to raid. And as for hunting, I’ve seen nothing on four feet in all the days we’ve been riding.’
‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ Jorkan replied. He drew a short knife from his belt and reached forward to scratch a line in the mud. ‘That’s the main trail,’ he explained. He made a series of scratches to one side of this line. ‘That’s the mountains and the foothills in between,’ he said and drew another line through the edge of this.
‘That’s another trail, which runs to the west, through and over the hills. It’s not an easy ride, but it’s better than doing nothing and there are a few small farmsteads - sheep breeders mostly - if I recall correctly. If we head up that way, we may well find ourselves some easy pickings and it should keep us well clear of those damned Vorsans. If we find the right farm, we could even stay there for a few days and let things settle in the outside world.