The Elfmaid's Curse (The Elfmaid Trilogy Book 1) (16 page)

            She watched wide grins spread across the warriors' faces as she lowered her guard. It was obvious to everyone she had surrendered. Then she realized the smiles had turned into leers as they reined up before her. Visions of gang rape leapt into her overly fertile mind.

            "No!" she cried and the sword snapped back up.

            Before they knew what was happening, Danica kicked one horse in the mouth and hacked the other's right front leg off. She thrust her blade deep into the belly of the first horse as it reared up. Then darted over to the fallen horse and ran its rider through before he could disentangle himself from the thrashing animal.

            "Stinking Elven slave bitch!" the other warrior cried, charging in.

            She parried a quick flurry of cuts and thrusts, then launched her own attack. He was the stronger, but she outclassed him easily. Both knew who would win within seconds.

            Driving the tip of her blade into his sword hand, she gave it a flick and sent his sword flying. But as she raised her sword for the death blow, a rope encircled her wrist and jerked her off balance. She lost her sword.

            "Seems your luck has changed," Dett said from out of the darkness.

            Grabbing the rope with both hands, she jerked the young herdsman out of the saddle. Before she could take three steps, two more lassos leapt out of the night and ensnared her. One caught her left wrist, the other her right ankle. She heard someone running in from behind and tried to turn to meet him. He hit her at full speed, driving her down into the grass. Several more men quickly joined him. Before she knew it she was subdued and her wrists bound together behind her back. Not until after she scored several good kicks, and drew blood from more than one bite on cursing Jordani.

            At first, Dett and Red Bull ignored her, instead heading straight over to their downed kinsman. The wounded were collected together not ten pace from her, while Red Bull started chanting his healing spells. Danica quickly shifted into her newfound "sight" and watched in fascination as the mist lights swirled about him and the wounded Jordani. There was no longer any doubt she was able to see his magic. She didn't know if it was because she was an elf or because Talar had overlooked something, but thought she might be able to use it if she ever got free.

            While Red Bull tended to the wounded warriors and herd guards, the War Chief began administering mercy blows to the two mortally wounded horses. Thoughts of the three dead horses made Danica cringe. Nothing sickened her more than when forced to attack innocent animals, especially horses.

            And nomads practically worshipped horses. Her mind wouldn't let her even think about what was about to be done to her. She knew the nomad's mind-set well enough to know what would be coming shortly. First their kinsmen would be avenged, and then the horses. Danica prayed she would endure her punishments honorably and stoically.

            After dispatching the wounded horses, Dett came over to glare at her some more. He was good at glaring, she decided. He had lots of practice. It was the same reaction Danic had elicited upon announcing he had no intention of marrying Hara. Danica smiled at the memory.

            "A warrior indeed," Dett said, seeing her smile. He then put all his considerable strength into the punch to her belly. Danica's breath explode out. "That's for trying to escape." Again he hit her, "That's for killing the horses." Then hitting her in the jaw, "And that's for killing my kin!"

Chapter 7

            Danica let out a tiny gasp of pain. She gritted her teeth as her fingers clawed the sandy soil, the stiff grasses jabbing into her inflamed back. The pain was still hard to believe. As a man, she had driven away all concerns about pain while still a youth hard in training to become a knight. She had not been prepared for this soft female body and its total lack of endurance. For the hundredth time, she wished for at least a blanket to lay on.

            Rolling over onto her belly, she let the gentle evening breeze piercing the flapping tent cool the wicked red stripes crisscrossing her back. It was her first whipping as a woman. And it was humiliating. Not the actual whipping, but the way she had screamed and cried and begged them to stop. Apparently willpower had very little to do with controlling tears and sobs as a woman.

            One more humiliation Talar will have to answer for.

            She was exhausted. The Jordani had worked her mercilessly all day. They used riding quirts on her to vent their anger. The short, braided leather whips could cause considerable pain. If she hesitated in carrying out any order, or so much as looked at anyone wrong, she received another ugly red welt.

            After being recaptured, the men had returned her to camp where she was tied spread-eagle on one of the looms and whipped into unconsciousness. She was then left hanging till dawn, when she was cut down to help pack up and move the clan. The weakened clan was dangerously close to their enemy's graze and wanted to put a safety zone between them. Danica had been the only person, slaves included, that wasn't allowed to ride. She spent the day running back and forth between wagons and horses relaying asinine messages to amuse her tormentors.

            If their plan had been to make her too exhausted to try another escape, it worked.

            "Damn chains," she mumbled as the bronze collar bit into her neck. Its short chain was attached to a stake driven deep into the sun-baked ground. "I'll wrap them around their bloody throats someday."

            Every time she was about to slip into much needed sleep, another slave returned to the tent and revived her with the noise. The other slaves all had free run of the encampment. They didn't sleep in chains, or were bound in any way. Only Danica suffered that indignity.

            Finally dozing off, she was rudely awakened by a foot prodding her buttocks. Someone was saying something to her.

            "What?"

            "Wake up, slave." It was one of the warriors. "We have use of you tonight."

           
Use? Me? Oh, Gods.

            "I'm too weak, master," she begged softly, and truthfully. And hating herself for it.

            Snorting, "For this, you don't need to do anything but lay down with your legs spread. I'm sure you'll manage."

           
And then die of humiliation
. She, fought back the tears that threatened to humiliate her further.

            The collar around her neck was removed and the warrior lifted her up in his arms. She wanted to scream, to kick, to do anything to stop what was about to happen, but didn't have the strength or willpower left.

            "Is it possible for me to get drunk first?"

            "We don't waste good kumiss on slaves."

            Danica lay limply in his arms as he hurried through the darkened camp. She could hear a faint drumbeat getting closer. It was somehow familiar. Then as they entered the brightly lit tent she realized what was happening. Rites of Passage.

            All the warriors were present in their ceremonial robes. They sat in a wide circle about the Clan Shaman. Along the back of the tent were the four oldest boys. The boys were also wearing robes, which meant they had already been tested and passed. Their first act as men would be to use a female captive. Normally, they would be expected to go on a ritual-shrouded raid and each capture his own woman for this ceremony, but that wasn't an absolute necessity.

            She was dropped at the Red Bull's feet and pushed to her back. The warrior that had fetched her quickly untied her wrists and pulled her arms over her head and held them down.

            "Spread your legs, slave," Red Bull said. She reluctantly complied. He knelt between her wide spread legs and began chanting, tracing magical symbols upon her exposed loins with his grimy finger. His touch sent chills throughout her body. Then suddenly stopping, "She is still protected."

            "Protected?" Danica said.

            Was there a spell protecting her from being ravaged? It didn't stop Raf the night before. Forcing herself to relax, she shifted her sight to check herself for magic. No sign of magic was evident.

            "The spell protecting you from conceiving is still intact," he said, loathing written all over his face.

            "Great," she said, shaking her head.

            It wouldn't have mattered anyway. The Jordani wouldn't allow her to bear a child. Red Bull would simply have placed the necessary spell on her himself.

            "Why me?" she said.

            "They asked for you," he said, clearly not pleased by the selection either. "It is their Passage, so they may choose any slave they want. Besides, thanks to you we are in no position to send them out on the necessary raids."

            "They all chose me? I thought each had to have his own woman."

            "I like it even less than you," he said. "But these are unusual circumstances, allowing us to deviate from the norm without dishonor."

            "The Gods hate me."

            "I don't blame them," he chuckled.

            Red Bull began the final prayer chant as the new warriors lined up at Danica's feet. They had until the prayer was over to use her. It was a long prayer, extolling the legendary prowess of Jordani warriors. Danica swallowed hard as a tall blonde warrior knelt between her wide spread legs and pulled off his ceremonial robes. He wore nothing underneath. He quickly crawled atop her, his young unmarked skin pressed against hers. With both hands tightly entwined in her long golden hair, he forced her to look him in the eyes. She could feel his manhood swell and press against her folds, start to penetrate.

            Danica sucked in a sharp breath as he thrust all the way in with a wild cry of joy.

            "What do you think you're doing?" Mother Yuma cried as she barged in. Then pointing at Danica, "Not with that one, you don't."

            Danica wanted to scream with joy.
Thank you, you dried up old goat! Thank you!

            The warriors, all of the warriors, were fuming. With fists clenched and jaw working, Dett stood and stalked over to the Clan Matriarch. She might be the most powerful member of the clan, but this ceremony was strictly forbidden to women.

            "This is none of your concern," he growled. "Begone!"

            "No! You fools don't know what you're doing," she snapped. "That slave has the stench of Sorcery about her. Strong!" Then looking around, "She's Druigh, and I think she's cursed."

           
How can I exploit this?
Danica's mind raced through options. The warrior was still atop her, still deep inside her. She found it difficult to concentrate on anything but his sweaty body pressed against hers and his manhood slowly pumping in and out.

            "Her magic is harmless," Red Bull said. "I should know."

            "You should," Yuma said, sneering fiercely. "But tell us all exactly what that magic is? Can you do it? Do you have even the faintest notions on how Elven Magic works?"

            He hesitated. "I think the slave has had all her power stolen by a stronger wizard."

            "You 'think?' You don't know?" she cried. "I have a bad feeling about the elfmaid. She feels like trouble, and has been nothing but trouble."

            "I was cursed," Danica said with feeling, "by a powerful sorceress in Elfhaven."

            The new warrior pulled out of her quickly, eyeing her warily while still kneeling between her legs. She kept her feelings of elation off her face and tried to look somber.

            "I believe her," Yuma said.

            "She'll say anything to escape the ceremony," Dett said.

            "I don't care. I think she is cursed."

           
You got that right
, Danica thought bitterly, thinking about what Talar had done to her, and what had happened since.
If being trapped inside an elfmaid's body isn't a curse, I don't understand the nature of curses.

            "Cursed?" Red Bull said and sneered at Danica. "Even if she is, it's of no consequence. I cannot detect anything about her that could be harmful to us."

            "I still remember Clan Berteemi," Yuma said somberly. "They captured an elfmaid with the stench of magic about her. They also couldn't figure out what it was. Their warriors all ravaged her, their sons took their turns later when they came of age." She paused, slowly letting her scornful glance touch everyone. "Then all their man parts shriveled up and the clan slowly died."

            There was a pained groan from the men, who suddenly began eyeing Danica suspiciously. She just tried to lay there quietly and act innocent. Acting pleased might bring about a beating, or worse, but she wanted to laugh and dance about.

            Red Bull looked at her through narrowed eyes, "I don't know — "

            "Then don't touch her until you do!"

            "I agree," Raf spoke up, eyes wide in fear.

           
Yes!
She smiled at him, and enjoyed the look of fear in his eyes as we both recalled the previous night.

            The blonde warrior kneeling between her knees stood up, "I want to choose a different slave."

            Red Bull shot the youth a hot look. "It's your right."

            The other boys also quickly voiced their desire for someone different. Their fearful looks almost made Danica giddy.

            Yuma nodded her satisfaction and departed. Dett and Red Bull glared after her, their faces twisted into angry sneers. There was no love lost between them. Danica wondered if there was a way to exploit it. Only time would tell. And it seemed she had plenty of that.

            The four eldest warriors met with Dett and Red Bull in a far corner. For several minutes they argued. Danica watched them closely, wishing she could hear what they were saying. Would they decide to use her anyway? There were several loud comments concerning Red Bull's magic, so did they have some plan to negate any curse she might bear? When their meeting broke up, Danica held her breath in anticipation of their decision.