Dream Lover

THIRTEEN

She took half the remaining arrows and left the girl with the other half. "Find another hiding place," she whispered. Dagger in hand she crept around to the man she'd shot in the stomach. She didn't come straight at him. She loped on tiptoe in a wide arc, so she came up on his flank. He didn't have a crossbow or any arrows, but he was alive and trying to regain his feet. She looked around for any of his friends then she sprang. He was ready for her they grappled quietly neither one of them making more sound than the effort of the life-or-death struggle required. 

Both of them were intent on survival and had decided the other needed to die for that to happen. The man had good reflexes she’d gone for his throat at full speed, but he managed to throw her off balance and get a hand around her wrist.

Seconds into the struggle, he turned the knife away from his throat and pointed at hers. He’d turned the tables on her and was slowly but steadily wearing down strength in her arms even with the added boost her adrenaline was giving her.

Gritting her teeth and grunting with the effort, Elle managed to keep him from advancing the knife any nearer her despite him pushing all his weight toward her.

While he concentrated on slitting her throat his square face flushed red and his thin lips pulled back baring his teeth like a wild, carnivorous animal when the kill was close. During that tenuous standstill, Elle got a knee between them. Her knee jostled the arrow still in his guts. He went pale and loosened his grip for only a second, but it was all Elle needed she jabbed at the arrow again much harder this time. The man growled. Blood slowly stained his teeth deeper and deeper shades of red.

Their positions changed in the next instant and with the last of the strength in her arms, she shook free of his weakened grip and sliced through his neck with one quick s***h.

She didn't watch him die. Still crouched over his body, she searched with her eyes and ears in every direction for any other men before she started back toward Melissa/Melanie.

The moans had stopped completely. It was nearly silent in the trees with the exception of the water in the river running over the rocks in the shallows. The birds in the trees were quiet in their nests watching the horror play out beneath them. It struck Elle in a distant sort of way how their chatter was more noticeable in its absence. Occasionally, the sound of her own footsteps scared her.

The adrenaline was fast fading leaving only the bone deep fear it had masked. She was becoming acutely aware of the blood that had soaked through her shirt causing it to stick to her. It was another one of those details in this world that was a bit too vivid and a bit too real. Killing the men, even the last one had felt very similar to battling through a particularly hard level on a video game. The facts of it, the gore of it, had ranged in her mind somewhere between inconsequential to rewarding. Now the metallic smell of blood she was coated in was swimming up through her nose and putting the taste of it in her mouth. The stick of it congealing against her skin was making everything that had just happened, everything she had just done stick sharper in her mind like jagged little pieces that didn’t belong.

As she moved through the woods, she realized for the first time that her sandals hadn't been protecting her feet. She'd left them on the bank when everything started.

Only steps away from the spot where she left Melissa/Melanie she froze confronted with the gruesome picture waiting for her. The man, that first one, she'd hit him hard, her life and Melissa/Melanie’s had depended on it. Blood was seeping into the ground and beginning to puddle around his head, the branch cut his face so deeply that at a glance his mouth seemed to extend to his ear on one side. It grinned maniacally. His scalp split on impact with the tree's trunk exposing his skull, a small piece of it was still on the tree marking the spot. Elle stared at what she'd done simultaneously awed and horrified. 

It took hearing the tiny whimper so close to jolt her out of it.

"Are you okay?" she breathed

"My ankle, I'm sure it's broken" Melissa/Melanie replied on a hoarse moan. "Are they gone?"

"Maybe I don't know we'll wait just a little longer to be sure." Elle gathered her strength and barely managed to pull herself back onto the branch in the tree. Perched there, she kept watch. Her eyes darting back and forth looking for any movement while she prayed there would be none.

Byron was feeling good; the heat from the kiss he'd stolen from Elle hadn't left his lips before he'd bagged a fat rabbit for dinner. Thinking of Elle, he snuck into the royal garden and snatched whatever looked good and ripe in the vegetable patch. He didn't know exactly what he stole but it was all in his bag and he'd let Elle worry about the vegetables when they got home.

He was out of the garden and under the cover of the trees when he heard the alarm bell ringing. He paused for a moment wondering if his father would actually have him arrested for stealing vegetables. He hadn't thought so, but the king had a flare of making examples of people. He was working up a good mad about being chased down by the castle guard until he heard the commands coming down from the towers to the ground. 

"Raiders west bank!" he thought of Elle, he'd left her washing his shirts in Blackstone River. It was the only river in the kingdom to which the term west bank applied. The river was lined with the same black stones that were used to build the castle; only it and a wide expanse of open plain separated Mercia from Wessex.

 The ruling parties there were hungry to expand their small kingdom in any direction they could. They were incredibly low on fertile farmland to make matters worse their numbers seemed to increase every year. They were on the verge of famine. They wanted the forests of Mercia badly, they saw it as unused land, and the fertility of the soil was apparent. There had been battles fought and won over the vast expanse of trees that were Mercia's trademark for nearly a century. 

Five years ago, Byron had fought in the battles responsible for decimating Wessex's army. An entire generation of boys and men were slaughtered for stubbornness and for pride. Never did he consider that raiders would be back so soon, that the massive loss of life could have been forgotten so quickly. It was possible that the raiders were no more than a stray band of rebels. 

What Byron knew wasn't possible was a band of raiders, sent by royals or following their own agenda, leaving a bunch of defenseless women to their laundry. They would do their best to kill, r**e, or kidnap as many as they could. 

All this passed through Byron's mind while he ran. He thought of anything other than what could be happening to Elle while he dashed through the woods. The sound of the castle alarm bell was still carrying when he came to the clearing just under his house. He circled around to the back of the same massive tree trunk the ladder was carved into and pulled on a hidden compartment made only of a cleverly carved plank of wood and the trees own roots. From the space, he lifted a short sword and a battle ax.

He shoved the days kill in their place quickly fitted the plank and he was off again. From the tree house, it was a short run to river. Sword in hand he closed in on the clearing where he'd last seen Elle. He came to the edge of the tree line alert and at the ready. He was looking for tracks, and any signs of Elle. He kept an eye out for low branches remembering how she'd tried to ambush him the day before and prayed she hadn't tried anything so foolish again.

Byron caught sight of boot prints in the always moist forest floor he started following them and came across a woman. She'd braced herself against a tree to rest. Her appearance told Byron the whole story. Her clothes were ripped, her breasts and legs exposed, bruises danced over her face, arms, and legs. She wasn't crying only staring wide eyed at nothing.