Avanda twisted and bucked as one drunken man held her captive and a second one stood behind her, covering her mouth and holding her head still.
Sweat ran down her neck and back as she fought for freedom. Nevertheless, the men were able to easily control the small Num.
“Take her cloak off,” ordered the blonde leader as he stood before her.
One of the men grinned as he removed it. “I get her next, Lucian.”
Lucian leaned down and looked into her enraged eyes. “There may not be anything left after I’m done with her.” He removed her belt and tossing it to the side. His breath was thick with ale, making Avanda recoil to avoid the smell.
Her garments were saturated with sweat from the struggle in the hot humid night air.
Enjoying every reaction he could get out of her, Lucian began unbuttoning her blouse as he whispered to her. “I bet you are so soft and pure.” His rough and dry index finger touched between the buttons onto her chest. “Silky,” he said from his first encounter with her skin.
Avanda was helpless. Disgusted by this man who was removing her clothes, she turned her head so she could distance herself from the situation. His continued touch made her stomach churn as tears flooded her face.
Lucian watched her reactions to his touch. “Gentlemen, you’ll be happy to know that she is soft. So very soft.” Lifting her shirt, he exposed her navel and placed his dirty dry palm against her bare stomach.
Leaning down he placed a kiss on her belly as he moved his hands to her legs. Slowly he moved them up to her knees. “Softer than a newborn tigra,” he purred as he leaned the unshaven bristles on the side of his face against her exposed body.
“And now my friends we will know the answer to our question.” Lucian moved his hands on her legs to the inside of her knees.
Avanda squeezed her eyes tight, as she felt the horror of Lucian’s touch.
“RELEASE HER!” a deep voice ordered from the darkness of the alley.
Stepping out into the soft hazy light, a giant Blothrud towered over the group. Veins pumping across the tight red skin on his hairless wolf-like face and across his enormous chest and arm muscles made it clear that he was ready for a fight. Blood dripped from his lip as he clinched his teeth in anger over the scene before him.
Lucian’s face turned white, as though he was seeing a ghost. “Santorray? You’re dead. I… I… I killed you myself,” he stammered.
“Apparently not, but I’ve returned to repay the favor and I don’t intend to fail like you did.”
But Lucian was not one to be intimidated, especially in his drunken state on mind. “Blades!” he shouted at his men, who quickly placed daggers at the young Num’s neck and stomach.
Lucian shielded his position behind his two men and Avanda. “Back off, Santorray. This is not your business.”
“I’m making it my business.”
Avanda stood still as the men’s blades pushed up against her, stretching her skin.
Lucian smiled at his position. “Leave or we will kill her and blame it on you. My word against an Altered’s word is no contest.”
In one swift motion, the Blothrud grabbed a saber from his side and swung it in front of him with such speed that the metal blade couldn’t be seen in the dim lighting. He then stepped forward, right in front of Avanda and her captors.
“Cut her!” Lucian ordered.
But the men stood motionless.
Lucian stumbled back a few steps in his inebriated state, confused as to why they weren’t following his orders. “I said, cut her!”
Reaching down, Santorray removed blades from both of the men’s hands and abruptly pulled her off to the side. The men collapsed where they once stood as their heads fell from their necks and rolled toward Lucian. The lightning fast strike of Santorray’s saber had cleanly severed them both.
Lucian pulled his own dagger out and threw it at Avanda, hoping to distract the beast long enough to make an escape.
Jumping toward the flying weapon, the Blothrud broke its path with the spikes that grew from the back of his hand. Turning back to confront the man, Lucian had taken the opportunity to run.
Santorray’s thick and hairy wolf-like legs sprang him from his position and into hot pursuit of the soon to be victim of a tragic brutal murder. Lowering his upper body, the Blothrud used the thick-skinned palms of his hand as front feet, racing on all fours.
Without a backup plan, Lucian instantly panicked. His arrogance had turned to fear once he had lost the upper hand.
It didn’t take long for the Blothrud to catch up to him. But as Santorray leaped for Lucian, the man turned abruptly and barreled his way through the doors into the pub. The creature missed his prey and skidded to a halt.
Thorik had been standing near the door, arguing with the local guards, when Lucian crashed his way in. The two collided, sending them to the floor, knocking over a table and several chairs.
Noticing it was Thorik; Lucian tried to justify himself. He could only assume that the Num was a friend of the beast in pursuit. “I didn’t hurt her! We didn’t rape her!”
“Rape her? Avanda? What happened?” Thorik grabbed onto the man to get answers.
Lucian struggled to get free. “He’ll tell you we hurt her, but we didn’t.”
“Only because I stopped you. You Fesh scum!” The voice came from outside the only wall still fully intact, until Santorray plowed his way in with a crushing blow from his shoulder. “Playing with helpless Nums? How about playing with me for a spell?” He flexed his already oversized muscles on his eight-foot sculptured body.
Thorik never turned around to see the ominous red creature that knocked a hole in the wall. He focused on preventing Lucian from getting up and escaping. “What did you do to Avanda?”
Thorik lost his grip of the man, who stood up to run. Jumping forward, the Num hit Lucian in the back. Falling, they both crashed through the table occupied by the local guards who were in the midst of grabbing their weapons.
“Get him off me.” Lucian ordered the men.
“Let them fight it out!” roared Santorray, assuming the girl was a friend of the Num.
Two of the three guards turned to look up at Santorray, blocking his ability to stop the third guard from breaking up the fight.
“I said, let them fight!”
One of the guards raised his sword to keep the creature at a distance.
Santorray grinned, making the man’s forehead and hands begin to sweat.
The second guard raised his own sword as he grabbed a whistle and blew it hard.
Santorray’s grin increased in size, exposing his long upper canines all the way to the gum. “All right, if you want it to be that way.” Reaching both hands forward, past their swords, the Blothrud grabbed the men by their uniforms and tossed them over his head into the air and through the wall behind him.
The last guard had just separated the two fighters as he turned to see what happened. Grabbing a chair, he crushed the wooden furniture against the Blothrud’s exposed side before Santorray could lower his arms to protect himself.
Splinters flew as the chair struck hard against the beast. Nothing remained except the chair’s back, which the guard still clung too. A stone statue would have moved more from the attack, as Santorray’s grin never faded.
Dropping the wooden remains of the chair, the guard pulled his whistle to his lips to call for help.
A swift red fist to the mouth stopped the noise, as well as the man, before Santorray turned back to see the fight he was missing.
Thorik had fallen onto his back with Lucian above him, stabbing a broken stool leg down at the Num. Still inebriated, he missed several times as Thorik rolled out of the way. Finally he hit his target directly into Thorik’s chest. A crack from the Num’s ribs could be heard.
“You pathetic peasant.” Lucian stood over his victim who held his arms over his chest. “You outsiders come into our province and think you are better than us!” Kicking Thorik in the side help
ed Lucian vent his frustration. “You don’t know who you’re messing with.”
“No, but I do,” Santorray said.
Looking up at the beast, Lucian was still breathing heavily from his brawl with Thorik. The less than sober man was cut and bleeding. Eyes darting from side to side he began to plan his escape as the enormous Altered approached. There were plenty of holes in the walls to escape from, but all were short-term victories, for he couldn’t outrun a Blothrud.
But then, a venomous smile slowly crossed Lucian’s face. “I hope you have this much energy after a few weeks in the mines.”
“If they can catch me after killing you, they can have me.”
“Unfortunately you’ll have to go there on assault charges, instead of murder.”
Santorray could sense something was wrong. Peering out the holes in the walls, he could see several dozen guards taking position around the pub, ready to attack from all sides. They had heard the alert whistle.
“If I’m going to the mines, I might as well make it worth my while.” Santorray leaned forward and grabbed Lucian with both hands, lifting him up in the air, slapping his body against a ceiling rafter. It was difficult to know if the crack that followed was Lucian’s back or the already weakened timbers holding up the roof. Again and again he used the man as a sledgehammer against the wooden beams.
Shaking from the fight, the building creaked and moaned as it struggled to remain standing. Sections of the roof were now caving in and falling to the floor.
Bleeding from his thrashing, Lucian swung the stool leg he still clung to at the beast’s face, only to have it captured in the Blothrud’s mouth. Santorray’s teeth snapped down on the wood along with two of Lucian’s fingers, cutting them both from his hand.
Shaking Lucian like a rag doll above his head, Santorray heard the military ordering the attack. He turned his attention on the group rushing in at him, dropping Lucian hard to the ground behind his back for effect.
The guards rushed at him with spears from all sides, only to stop a few yards from him. They had a tight circle around the beast.
Spitting out Lucian’s fingers, Santorray growled and showed his teeth stained with Lucian’s blood. He waited for the first fool who wanted to test their courage, as he slowly rotated around.
It wasn’t long before a young strapping lad with a chip on his shoulder needed to prove himself to his peers. A lunge forward with his spear grazed one of Santorray’s back blades. It was all the man recalled, for the beast’s instinctive reflexes kicked his back leg into the man’s forehead, knocking him out as well as into his peers.
A second man stepped forward, two-handed broadsword ready for attack. He wasn’t a guard like the rest. He was a giant of a man, who wore armor with royal symbols on it, as he nearly stood as high as Santorray’s shoulders. Blue and gold robes bore the kingdom’s symbol of water, wheat and a sword.
They sized each other up as the guards stepped back to give them room. “I am Asentar, supreme knight of the Dovenar Kingdom. You are now a prisoner of the Southwind Province. Come quietly, or I shall be forced to slay you.”
Santorray was intrigued. He had fought many a man and Altered, but never a Dovenar Knight. In fact, he didn’t think there were any left. “My issues are not with you, sir knight. It’s with a man who takes pleasure in raping children. But if you come between me and my rightful vengeance, you will become my enemy as well.”
Behind Santorray, Lucian had regained consciousness. Grabbing a dagger from one of the guards, he rushed toward the Blothrud. Blood poured from his missing fingers, coating the handle with fresh liquid. With the blade in both hands, his face tightened in anger as he swung it over his head, down toward the creature’s spine.
Santorray didn’t see it coming as he focused on Asentar. The knight’s eyes never revealed the pending attack. Not a twitch of the cheek or blink of the eye, there was no sign of Lucian’s rear attack coming until he saw a blurred movement out of the corner of his right eye.
Jumping through the air, Thorik collided with Lucian, again rolling to the floor. The Num grabbed the man’s wrist and pounded it against the floor, trying to break his grip on the dagger. After several failed attempts, Thorik pressed his fingers against the stubby ends of Lucian’s missing fingers. The pain caused the man to release the blade as he lay on his back. Thorik grabbed the battle-axe from his back and held it over his head, ready to strike if Lucian made another move.
Asentar used this distraction to launch an attack. A step forward allowed a swift slice to Santorray’s upper thigh, with an immediate return to his stomach. The blade held steady against the rough red skin of his abdomen, causing it to stretch and indent as he pushed slightly forward. Blood from the superficial cut ran down the Blothrud’s leg. The knight now had the advantage. “Surrender. I do not wish to kill you, but I will if I must.”
Snarling, saliva and blood dripped from Santorray’s mouth. “Now you’ve made yourself my enemy.” His dark red skin brightened as fresh blood pulsed faster through his veins. His muscles appeared to grow before their eyes as his anger grew at the man who held a sword to his belly. The quiet tension hung in the air as the guards waited for the Blothrud to attack.
Expressionless, the Dovenar Knight stood his ground, ready to do his duty. He didn’t care if it was an Altered, whether it be Ov’Unday, Fesh’Unday or, like in the Blothrud’s case, Del’Unday. His only desire was to follow his oath to the kingdom, even if it was a human.
The silence ended with the sounds of a legion of Faralope hooves marching up to the building. Once there, a Southwind military official stepped down from his mount, followed by the rest of his armed men. The guards parted, allowing their general to enter the area.
In full uniform and colors, the general walked stiffly over to Thorik without saying a word. A large mustache trailed down below his strong jaw. His ability to intimidate Thorik without speaking was remarkable. Stopping just shy of running into the Num, his hand snapped out like a viper and snatched the axe out of Thorik’s hands before tossing it behind him onto the floor.
Thorik backed up as the wide-chested general stepped forward. Thorik had met wild bores with a more comforting demeanor than this man. His presence chilled the room with his disapproval in what he was seeing. Thorik instinctively wanted to apologize to him, even if he didn’t know why.
Santorray didn’t cower from the general, but his anger was subsiding. He had left Lucian a continual reminder of him, for he would never properly wield a weapon again.
Thorik felt the need to explain himself to the general. “He raped my friend, a mere child Num. He needs be locked away.”
The general reached down with one hand and grabbed Lucian’s hand. With one quick tug, the general lifted Lucian to his feet and then spun him around. He now had Lucian by the hand behind his back. The general lifted the hand a few times, causing Lucian pain while pushing him forward toward the Faralopes.
Following the general, Santorray and Thorik walked just outside the pub before stopping. They had given in to the inevitable; they were captured. Fighting was futile at this point as more military personnel arrived. Santorray dropped his weapon.
Sheathing his sword, the Dovenar Knight watched the proud Blothrud exit the pub. “You were wise not to challenge me, Del.”
Glaring over his shoulder, Santorray exposed his teeth while watching the knight grin at the Del’Unday’s fate. With a forearm strike to the outer wall, the roof finally gave way, landing on the knight and many of the guards. “You were wise not to say that too close to me,” he said calmly in the night air.
As the pub collapsed, the general and Lucian reached the Faralopes. Letting go of Lucian, the general spun him around and pushed him backward. Still intoxicated with ale, he fell against the Faralope and cradled his hand with the missing fingers.
“Damn that beast! Did you see what he did to my hand?” Lucian said with obnoxious cockiness in his voice. “We were just having some fun. Santorray had no bus
iness getting involved.”
Looking down over his beak of a nose at Lucian, the general grumbled. “Do you realize what you have put in jeopardy here? If the Matriarch finds out about this, she’ll have our entire family put to death. You make me sick to be your father.” He followed the comment with a loud and stern instruction to his second in command. “Take the Blothrud and Num to the mines. I don’t need word of this getting out.”
The guard looked at the general with serious eyes for confirmation of actions to be taken.
Clarification came quickly from the Lucian’s father, “Make this problem disappear. It never happened.”
Chapter 5
Southwind Mines