Quest Of The Dragon Tamer (Book 1) (36 page)

- - -

“Goodenspy,” Fraul said. “Aaron Goodenspy?”

Aaron turned his piercing gaze toward Fraul. “Yes, that’s my name.”

They had left the port city as soon as they were able and had given Zier a wide girth. They had seen regiments traveling from the crown of Newlan, but it was from a safe distance.

Despite the ominous circumstances, Fraul was having the time of his life. He loved traveling across country, and the Avenger was an added bonus, one he was still relishing. Aaron didn’t speak at great length, but Fraul had no problems keeping the conversation alive, and Aaron seemed to enjoy his stories.

Just being able to experience how the Avenger went about his quest was sometimes so stimulating Fraul found himself grinning like a madman. At times Aaron sensed his glee and chuckled at his mannerisms.

Even though Aaron chose not to speak without Fraul asking a direct question, Fraul had become very fond of Aaron. Aaron was upright and moral, judgmental but truthful, and very, very blunt.

When Fraul wasn’t focused on Aaron, which sadly enough was almost constantly, he worried about Ramie. His king was cunning, but Ramie also had the rage of a hungry manacanard, and that rage could sometimes make him lose his senses.

Fraul rubbed his goatee and wondered if the manacanard had been reborn with the rebirth of magic. The manacanard had been his one fear as a child. When it did exist not even a dragon could escape harm. The manacanard’s magic was its voice. It could wail a mournful cry, bewitching those who heard it into seeking the voice. When they were close enough the manacanard would strike. Sometimes the manacanard continued to wail until entire legions of men had been ravaged. With a woman’s face, a lion’s body, and razor sharp teeth, it had an unnerving intelligence and a strength no human could escape. Once it had you the manacanard could tear your flesh like a ream of silk.

Shaking off the thought, Fraul turned to Aaron. Aaron said his name was Goodenspy.

There had been stories of a man with a very similar name almost since the beginning of time, although the name had probably been altered into different renditions and the modern tongue. The story of Ari Goodspeed was told to children when they were old enough to surmount its atrocities. It was a story of betrayal in the worst way, and children were told the story to have the sin of betrayal far removed from their hearts and minds.

Ari was the middle son of the third king of the Lands. In Ari’s time the Lands were far from their current structure and modernization. The people were of small number, living in the region now known as Yor. Ari was a caring man, helping far more than his brothers, and putting himself in harm’s way when those of lower classes were in need. Ari became a peacemaker between the different settlements, and was sought after to settle disputes, keeping peace for the Lands and also his father’s rule.

During one of his peacemaking missions, Ari traveled to a small village that had decided to rebel against his father. At the edge of a village he met a girl named Kyra. It was said Kyra was so beautiful many couldn’t look upon her because her beauty shone brighter than the sun.

Kyra knew her people were planning on taking Ari’s life if he entered their boundaries so she took Ari into town herself. During the negotiations, Kyra and Ari fell in love. The outcome wasn’t only peace but also the joining of the two lands in marriage.

Ari and Kyra’s love was spoken of in reverent whispers. The two rarely parted. When Ari went on his missions Kyra was at his side, and the more they were together the deeper their love grew.

Ari’s younger brother, Cyrus, coveted Kyra and wanted her for his own. One day Cyrus approached her and she denied him. She said she would never love any man but Ari and wouldn’t even consider remarrying upon his death.

Once Kyra denied him, Cyrus’s obsession grew. Cyrus began plotting to frame Ari for the death of their eldest brother, fantasizing he would have both the crown and Kyra for his own. After Cyrus murdered his elder brother he sent guards to Ari’s house with proof of Ari’s guilt. When the guards arrested Ari, Kyra fought them, pointing to Cyrus as the true murderer. Cyrus flew into a rage and ordered the guards to chain Ari to the wall and beat him to the point of death. Cyrus raped Kyra in front of Ari, and then, before Ari’s eyes, he skinned Kyra alive.

Fraul glanced over at Aaron. If Aaron and Ari were one in the same person the story would be a plausible explanation as to how Aaron had become the Avenger. Fraul shook the thought off. Surely it couldn’t be. Aaron was magic, and magic hadn’t been born during Ari’s time. It had appeared decades later. Besides, the story of Ari Goodspeed was so horrible it couldn’t be factual.

- - -

Manda could hear Bort snoring in the tent beside her. She had heard that contented sound as other men came to have their way with her.

She had lost count as to how many. There were too many. That was all she knew – far too many.

Alezza had watched the entire time. Her smile would be with Manda for the remainder of her days. At times, she had even heard Alezza’s complacent chuckle.

Manda had ingrained Alezza’s chuckle to memory. If she ever needed to find her inner strength, she would remember that chuckle. It would ignite a fervor that would send all other thoughts away.

If, she reminded herself, she was allowed to live. Chris was the one Alezza wanted. She was just someone the spider could play with before she bit. Manda was expendable, and she knew it.

During the night Manda had realized Alezza’s plan. Throughout her demoralization Chris had grunted with erotic pleasure, not pain. Alezza had exhausted Chris’ strength by sending him intense pain all day. All he could do was welcome the other sensations. Manda didn’t blame him, but at times during the night she had almost gotten sick. Her brother sounded like the men on top of her.

Chris would soon be Alezza’s puppet. He would hunger for the pleasure and do anything to avoid the pain. Chris would soon agree to Alezza’s demands. Then Manda would no longer be needed. She was expendable.

Manda squeezed Chris’ hand. He was unresponsive. She tried again as she whispered his name.

It hurt to move and it hurt to breathe. All she wanted to do was remain still, but her gut told her if she didn’t force Chris to wake he would soon be unable to recognize her. Manda inched closer, feeling a new trickle of blood flow in response to her movement.

She hadn’t bothered to re-dress. Her clothes were ripped to shreds and she didn’t know if she had any strength to salvage anything. Besides, Alezza had promised more of the same the following night.

When Manda brushed his face, Chris’ eyes opened and he let out a terrifying sound. It rent her heart.

“Chris.” Her own voice sounded foreign, but she wasn’t the same person she had been only days ago. Now she knew what pain could be, what terror could be.

Chris moaned again, but this time it was in more of a human tone. She squeezed his hand, trying to convey her love. Slowly, recognition came into his face.

His shoulders sunk in sorrow as he took her in his arms. Everywhere he touched it hurt, but she didn’t care. Her brother was whole, and he remembered her. He whispered for forgiveness, saying he had tried to reach her, promising he would kill them all.

She looked into his face. He had aged years in only days. His face was taut, his eyes devoid of their former zest. All that remained was doleful abandon, mirrored in her own soul, and enmity, not for what had happened to him but what had been done to her.

Chris rolled to his side. Something shimmered in the dim light. Chris’ hand caught whatever it was and lifted it to her chains. When her lock clicked open Manda gasped, her mind unable to grasp sudden freedom.

Manda replayed the night in her mind. Bort had undressed, leaving his keys in a heap of clothing. Chris had been near that pile. He had managed to take them.

She lifted his chains and tugged at them in expectation, but he stopped her with a look. When he spoke, his voice was so low she almost didn’t hear. It was a different voice, a voice that knew torment and hate. “Manda, they’ll come after me. They may not come after you.”

“No. You’re coming with me.”

“Manda, you know what she plans. She’ll hunt me. Besides, I have no strength. You must seek help. Find Ren. He’ll know what to do.”

Manda shook her head, her whole body aching. “If I leave she’ll send you more pain. I can’t do that too you.”

“She has given me more pain than she ever could tonight.”

A lone tear trickled down Manda’s cheek when she realized he meant her rape and not his torture. Manda looked deeper into Chris’ eyes. Her brother had known exactly what was being done to him. He had been in his own perdition while she was in hers. She wondered what was worse: being raped and abhorring it or being raped and relishing the sensations but loathing the price?

The soft crunch of leaves betrayed someone’s movement. Manda jumped, the last of her chains falling from her ankles as a knife ripped down the back of the tent, its silver blade flashing in the moonlight. A black and gold band below the blade signified Zier’s colors - Ren’s colors. Heartbeats later Carter’s face appeared. Manda was too shocked to react. Carter moved silently into the tent and placed a finger over his mouth.

He quickly looked away. “My lady, I’m sorry. May the Maker’s fates condemn me for being unable to come sooner.” Carter paused, heaving a sigh. “I have one horse. It’s yours, my lady. Take it and get quickly away.”

The anguish was evident in his voice. Manda looked down at herself. Bruises so deep they were almost black covered her body and dried blood was caked in places she hadn’t realized she was harmed. She could feel the blood on her chin and chest from her shattered jaw, but she had paid little attention to the other parts that screamed every time she moved. A gash on her shoulder seeped blood, causing her entire left side to appear horrific, and cuts from the chains continued to ooze blood.

Carter’s red-rimmed eyes locked on her face. “Guards have been surrounding your tent all night. There was no chance for me to come. Now they have all passed out from drink after the … ” His voice broke. Chris’ hand tightened on her own.

Carter’s eyes flickered to the tent flap. “The patrol looks into your tent every moons’ click. I made sure he passed before I came. We must hurry. We don’t have much time.”

Manda glanced behind her, expecting an alarm to sound. When none came she quickly turned back to Chris and tried to pull him up. “No, Manda, only you.”

Carter took off his coat and draped it around her shoulders. His voice wafted to her, soft and sorrowful. “Your brother is right. If both of you aren’t here an alarm will sound.” His eyes bore into her with stark determination. “Both of you will be here.”

A lump rose in her throat. Carter intended to take her place and fool the guards until morning. By dawn she could be safely away. Manda swallowed back her fear and opened her mouth to insist Chris be the one to go, but when her eyes met her brother’s her words evaporated from her lips. If Manda remained without Chris she would die. If Chris remained without Manda he would live. Alezza’s plans depended on Chris living, at least for a while.

Manda put her hands to her lips, revulsion filling her at the thought of what she was about to do.

Carter’s voice floated to her, but she barely heard. Her eyes were riveted on Chris, knowing it may be the last time she would see him sane. Manda leaned down and wrapped her arms around him, barely listening to Carter’s soft drone.

“Put on my uniform and run through the woods until you reach my horse. He’s by the creek, tied to a sycamore. He’s black and won’t be easily seen. Take him and find help.”

When she turned to Carter he stood in his undergarments, rubbing chunks of soil on his body.

He was a small man, not much taller than she, but he had a barrel chest and wide shoulders. His hair came to his chin and hung limp like a soiled rag. His sweat filtered through the air, causing her to remember her defilement. The smell became even more pronounced as she slowly pulled on Carter’s uniform. With each movement her body screamed in pain, but when the outfit was assembled she found the pants fit loosely enough to hang around her hips, protecting her most painful area.

Carter bent to his knees and rolled the pants’ legs up to free her movement. When he stood he looked at her without regret. “There’s no more time, my lady. Go, and may the Maker go with you.”

Manda bent down and kissed Chris on the check. He clutched her to him.

“I love you, Manda. Know I will try to remain whole. ”

“I know. Stay strong. I’ll come back for you and kill Alezza and every last one of her men.”

Chris smiled a smile that conveyed his true spirit. “I know you will, sis.”

Manda turned to Carter. He shook his head, silencing her before she could speak.

“No words are necessary. I took an oath to follow orders, and that’s what I’m doing, no more and no less. Go and go quickly.”

Although it hurt, Manda smiled. Carter smiled back. In that breath Manda knew and understood the man before her. She saw his dreams and his desires, his hopes and his fears, but dying for her wasn’t one of those fears. In fact, it was an honor. For the remainder of her days she would never forget Carter’s eyes gazing at her with a type of love she had never known. Manda turned to the back of the tent. She looked into the night, tasting freedom but feeling no joy. She was now a soldier in a war.

It was a war she intended to win.

“I’ll never forget you,” she whispered to Carter before she slipped into the night.

When the tent slit closed, she drew a deep breath, noting how much it hurt. Carter’s rough uniform sent needle-like pricks into her skin with every movement.

Bort’s snore ripped through the air. Manda turned to the sound. His tent was paces away. She peered into the night, calculating the time before dawn.

She was a soldier in a war.

She straightened and set her jaw as the pain of her steps evaporated from her mind. All that remained was intent – fervent intent.

- - -