Morning Diamond

Never Underestimate your Enemy

“Leishmann,” his name escaped her lips, an accusatory hiss.

His self-satisfied grin helped shake Claire from her bubble of fear. He was enjoying the way her body had reacted to the mention of his name, how fear had invaded her senses so completely. Squaring her shoulders she decided to allow her training and strength to guide her instead of permitting fear to control her. She would not allow him to have the power to make her quake again. Her eyes narrowed.

“You look like you want to see my head on a spike. Come, let’s not be hostile. I would like to be friends.” He gestured for her to come closer. She took another step back, slapping his hand away.

“Leishmann!” This time she spat his name at him in rebuke.

“I prefer my friends to call me Landon.” He smiled wickedly and deliberately stepped closer. The movement made her feel like a squirrel stalked by a rattlesnake. Only she wasn’t a rodent.

“You are not my friend! I could never be friends with a murderous leech.” She watched with a splash of joy as he flinched at her words. Apparently he didn’t like being reminded of who he was.

“Apparently your brothers did not teach you to respect your elders. I will forgive you this once for your impudence, but I will not tolerate it again. Now, we have business to discuss. Would you like me to dish you a plate?” He asked as he moved towards the small table that held empty dishes. She took the moment to come to a conclusion. He wanted something from her. Enough he was willing to let her insult slide. So be it. She’d see what he wanted, but she’d also see what he was made of.

“No thank you. My stomach has just received the worst assault imaginable. I am afraid if I were to add food offered from your table, it would be its undoing.” She had the pleasure of watching his shoulders tense before he turned on her.

“Sorry to hear that, My dear. Seeing my men can be a tad trying on a sensitive tummy.” He left the dishes untouched, but did move to the table and begin uncovering trays of the most delicious assortment of foods arranged invitingly. It looked as though some had already been disturbed, but most dishes were untouched.

“Oh, let me assure you, Sir, your men are not the problem.” She let the cut linger between them. After a few moments he picked up a small cube of cheese and popped it in his mouth. Claire’s stomach growled loudly, betraying the fact that she had not eaten since that morning. Leishman grinned and purposefully lifted a chunk of juicy meat from the tray and savored the taste of it.

“I assume by your presence here you were on your way back to Danyon?” He asked conversationally.

“No, my presence here is because I was forced, by your men, to be in you company.” He smirked and gave her a slight bow as though he surrendered.

“Allow me to rephrase. Were you on your way home to Danyon?” He asked as he popped another cheese square in his mouth.

“So it would seem.” She answered. She turned her head, unable to watch the sickening show before her.

“Were you planning to meet up with anyone particular?”

“Oh yes. We have a three sheep herders waiting for us to bless their goats.” She crossed her arms before her.

“A smart mouth is the least becoming attribute in a woman.” Leishmann sneered.

“Depends on who you talk to. I know several people who like it well enough and frankly their opinion matters more to me than yours.” She saw his jaw clench and had to suppress a smile. “If we are finished with our little chat, I’d like to go to my friend now.”

“We are far from finished and you will go when I dismiss you.” There was something in those words that caught her attention. A sort of, panic. Claire could see it in his eyes. It was there staring back at her as though he was laying his soul on the line. He was obsessed with being in control. She wondered if that included being in control of himself or if it was just controlling others he desired. Did she dare test it? She knew the answer before she dared ask it of herself.

“I thought you said I was a guest. By that definition I should have the right to take my leave at any given time,” She tested.

“There are answers I will have before you leave this tent.” He straightened and she immediately recognized it as an attempt to intimidate her.

“Then ask your questions and be done with it so I may go.” It was almost comical the way he blinked back his surprise. She couldn’t tell if it was her bluntness or the fact that she didn’t cower that shocked him more.

“There are two things I want from you. First, I want the book. Second I want the location of the witch.” She had neither.

“I’m afraid I can be of no use to you then.” A slow smiled began to work its way across her face. He held her against her will because of two things which she did not possess. It was ridiculous.

“Don’t play games with me, Chit.” Apparently we were done with the niceties now. His expression changed in that instant and he looked every part the evil villain. “I have searched for that book for years and I will have it. I will also have the location of that Witch. She has escaped me for the last time.” He took a step towards her, but Claire stood her ground.

“Again I will say I am no use to you. I only learned of the book after your men attacked my home and even that was only a story my brothers told. I have never laid eyes on it,” She hoped he didn’t see through that lie, “and I have never met a Witch in my entire life.”

“I will warn you that I have the ability to tell when people are lying to me.”

“Oh good then I won’t have to repeat myself when I say I have no idea where either is located.” At least that part was true. Last she saw the book Mark had it and she didn’t know where Mark was.

“Don’t lie to me, Wench!” In two strides Leishmann stood face to face with her. He grabbed her arm in a merciless hold and shook her violently.

“You wouldn’t know the truth if it slapped you across the face.” He shook her again this time harder.

“You will tell me where Marcel is or I will beat the information from you!”

“You are no more than a parasite. I gave you my answer and I have no other for you.” She heard the sound of his hand across her face before she felt the sting. The blow forced her off balance, but she regained her footing quickly. Shocked she covered her cheek with her hand and remained hunched over for several moments, attempting to accept what had just happened. No one had ever struck her before. Something within her snapped and in that moment she understood seeing red.

She straightened, her rage daring her to challenge him on a new, and dangerous, level. “Only a true coward would hit a woman.” She said through gritted teeth. He raised his hand to hit her again, but she didn’t give him the chance to strike.

Claire rushed Leishmann like a she-cat fighting for its life. She released years of martial arts training and hit him with precision. The shock on his face excited her and her mind emptied of all thoughts but one, victory. She kicked him in the gut, her movements made awkward by her the oversized shirt that twisted around her and she was forced to step back to avoid tripping and finding herself trapped within his control.

Leishmann straightened and leered at her then, to her surprise, excitement filled his eyes and he smiled like a child opening a new present. “This dinner date just got fun.” He spat blood from his mouth and stood menacingly before her. “After you, My Dear.” He invited, offering her the side of his face. It was too late to go back now, but she’d be damned if she accepted an invitation that would leave her vulnerable.

She circled him, looking for the perfect place to strike, more than happy to finish the fight they had begun. Somewhere in the back of her mind she cautioned herself, but pain and anger slammed a solid door on all the reasons why she should stop.

Calmly he followed her movements. He appeared casual and relaxed. His arms dangled at his side completely comfortable. Good. She thought. Underestimating your opponent is the number one cause of defeat.

“You may begin anytime.” He welcomed. He had calmness in his voice, but maliciousness painted his whole being. The effect unnerved her, but not enough that it would stop her. “I’ll give you the chance to answer my question honestly one last time.” He raised his hand slowly towards her, mocking her. They were beyond that now, besides she didn’t have what he wanted.

She stared at the offending limb before her. In a flash of movement she smacked it away, jumped and slammed her elbow into the side of his head. She landed inches behind him and raised her leg to back kick him in the kidney, but her movements were altered again by the large shirt and her foot only found air. She swung the leg to maintain her balance and looked up into Leishmann’s intense blue eyes.

“As you wish, but I warn you, Chit, you will not enjoy where this is going.” His eye’s narrowed as he looked her up and down. She felt sickened by his regard. “Ah, but I will.” He licked his lips in anticipation.

Repulsed, Claire spat in his face. Mark once told her she should fight with fervor and spit fire at any man daring enough to fight her. It may not be fire, but the liquid running down his cheek gave her a sense of satisfaction.

Slowly, deliberately he wiped the saliva from his jaw. His countenance screamed of irritation and something unexpected, amusement. “Only one person has ever dared do that to me. Bless her beautiful sweet head. She never repeated the same mistake twice. Nor will you.” To prove him wrong she spat on him again.

His amusement disappeared, replaced with a calm ire that sent shivers down her spine and her mind once again screamed caution. Momentarily she thought it had been a mistake to spit the second time. He reached for her then. The movement quick and almost unexpected after the calmness he had showed.

She should have dodged easily, but the sudden advance- combined with the clumsiness the shirt caused when it tangled around her knees- left her vulnerable to his attack. In one swift movement his arm wrapped around her and he roughly yanked her to him, knocking the wind from her as he crushed her against his chest. With extra force applied in the right spot she felt a sharp stabbing pain and heard the distinct crack of her rib.

“Listen here you little cat, you will behave yourself in my presence and you will never spit on me again. Do you understand?” His voice was cool and calm and enfolded her in its malevolence. Claire stared into eyes of steal, but despite every warning bell firing at that moment she couldn’t stop herself. Claire looked him in the eye- determined he would believe her immune to his heavy handed ways and did the only thing she could. She showered the man with a thin line of wet sputum.

Keith had once told her she responded too quickly and often scolded her for not thinking before acting. She knew this would be one time she had wished she’d listened, but the deed was done and she could not bring herself to regret it.

As quickly as the saliva left her mouth, she threw her head forward and felt the gratification of hearing and feeling Leishmann’s nose crunch under the force. The response was instant. He released her and she stumbled back.

She watched as Leishmann set his nose, but she couldn’t allow him the time to recoup. She rushed forward-folding Keith’s shirt around her as she moved-and delivered a quick spin kick that sent him back a few feet. The pain in her side raked through her, but she fought against its hindering force and delivered a front kick to his chest. He grunted and fell back. She stared down at him, satisfied that she would dispense the final blow.

“How easy this was.” She stated. She rushed forward, intent on kicking him in the face and ending the fight. She lifted her leg and relished the shock in his eyes as her foot came down.

Unexpectedly, her feet flew out from under her and she fell heavily to the ground, the force knocking the wind from her. Pain blinded her and she felt the room spin at an alarming rate. She struggled for air, but the throbbing hindered her success.

Before she could catch her breath her body was ripped forward; Leishmann’s fist tangled in the extra folds of her shirt and twisted the fabric, unforgivingly, around her throat as he pulled her from the ground to face him.

“I said, never spit on me again.” With a forceful shove he sent her flying across the room. She hit a heavy table with force that left her dizzy. For several minutes she could only sit against the table leg while shock embraced her like a small child. Eventually her senses began to slowly return and she shook her head in a desperate attempt to make the room stop spinning.

Finally, she looked up and met the eyes of her enemy. He stood towering above her, legs apart and arms casually at his sides. His stance reeked of power and strongly declared he would not be challenged again. He wiped the drizzle of blood from his nose, inspected it, and then glared down at her. She closed her eyes when she saw his hand move.

The pain in her head intensified and she felt blackness moving in from the force of his fist against her cheek. She expected to be hit again, but when the second strike didn’t come she dared to open her eyes. Before her Leishmann’s hand hovered like a lion with its teeth bared, taunting her with a false offer of kindness.

“Now, My Dear, where is Marcel and where is that damn book?” Claire was baffled by the fact he still believed she had answers for him. How could he still believe she was lying to him? He stood above her with his hand stretched before him, a silent invitation; though she didn’t care to feel her hand in his.

She struggled to her feet ignoring his extended hand. When she tried to straighten the sharp stabbing pain in her ribs caused her to gasp and double over, but it was the intense pulsing in her head that pained her the most. “Webster, get water and a cleaning rag for the lady.” He commanded.

Until that moment Claire had not notice the man standing in the corner. He was dressed neatly with a towel folded over his arm. He looked stiff and his eyes bore into her, wide and shocked.

“Now!” At his Lord’s demand the man jolted forward. He retrieved a pitcher and bowl from a small washstand. Placing the bowl on the table behind Claire, he poured water into it. Leishmann took the towel from the man’s arm and soaked it before offering it to her. She ignored it.

“You should clean that up; you are bleeding all over my tent.” Leishmann stated, his words softly caressing the ears in mock concern and making bile rise in her throat. She glared at him. After a moment the servant moved forward and took the rag from Leishmann. He quickly began to clean her face; his movements clumsy in his rush to please his master. After only a moment of his less than helpful-although good intended- assault, Claire pushed his hand away.

“Now come on miss, tis a mighty bad cut. Please let me help you.” He pleaded. He kept glancing nervously over his shoulder at Leishmann, who looked as though nothing was amiss.

Claire reached up and felt the side of her head, it was tender, wet and sticky. Bringing her fingers in front of her, her eyes widened at the amount of blood saturating them.

“You really should clean that up.” Leishmann reiterated. She could hear the amusement in his voice, as though he enjoyed looking at his handiwork. She could feel blood pooling out of the gash in her head and soaking her shirt, but she ignored it just to spite him. He stood with open amazement.

“Still have some fight left in you I see.” Leishmann ripped the rag out of the servant’s hand.

Grabbing her arm forcefully he pulled her close to him. She attempted to pull away from him but the movements caused a throbbing agony to radiate through her head and side. She stopped struggling. Leishmann smiled triumphantly and placed the rag on her head.

Roughly he scrubbed at the blood causing the stinging to intensify. She flinched from him, but his hands dug into her arm again, holding her in place. She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out.

Leishmann continued to cruelly blot at the gash in her head. Anger, hate and pain overwhelmed her and nausea began to set in. She drew in a deep painful breath and pulled at every fiber of courage she still held within her. Straightening- as best she could- she looked up into his eyes challenging him to continue his onslaught or daring him to release her.

Leishmann scrutinized her for a moment then dropped her arm, but then lifted her hand to drop the rag in it. When she brought the rag to her wound, he smiled at her; a gloating self-satisfied smile. “Come, wine will help with the pain. I’ll allow you some as soon as you give me answers.”

Leishmann turned his back on her, walked to a small table, and poured a glass of wine. When he faced her again he looked calm and casual. She felt uncertain of what his next insult would be as he leaned against the table and beckoned her to join him.

Claire looked at the blood soaked rag in her hand and allowed a new and welcoming numbness to engulf her. For the first time since this whole crusade began she felt nothing. Her fear evaporated. Her anger and hurt flew to the deepest depths of the soul and was buried by the complete nothingness that surrounded her. She raised her head to look into Leishmann’s eyes.

His open mockery was meant to rile her. He took a small sip of the wine then lifted the glass-turning it to offer her the edge touched by his lips. The action meant to offend her in the most profound level possible.

Somewhere in the depths of her mind she recognized he was baiting her, daring her to come at him. She knew it was a trap, but could do nothing to stop her numbness from transforming into a coldness- heavy laden with dangerous intentions. She snapped.

Claire flew at Leishman, with the determination of one with nothing left to lose. She had lost her family, lost her home. She wanted to make him lose something as well. His life.

She rushed Leishmann, her numb emotions blocking her ability to rely on years of training. Her attack was clumsy and foolish, but she didn’t care. Even when he easily caught her in an iron grip, she felt nothing.

Claire raked her nails down Leishmann’s cheek, peeling off his skin and forcing him to let her go. She stepped back for a brief second, but then quickly slammed her fist, hard and fast, into his jaw before he could muster up a defense.

Before she allowed common sense to regain its control she delivered a second and a third blow as energy from some unknown place radiated through her. She fed on that energy even as she fought against the feelings probing on the outside of her emotionless state, begging to be let back in.

She refused to allow sentiments to tarnish her pursuit. For if she allowed but one emotion into her mind at that moment it would be fear and she could not afford to fear anything. She delivered a healthy kick to Leishmann’s side and watched him flinch from the blow. Again she let her fist fly, but this time Leishmann caught her fist in an unforgiving hold.

He pulled her arm straight in the air as he stood, raising his tall frame toward the sky. He looked the impending giant. Quickly grabbing Claire’s other arm he held her suspended in the air until the blissful numbness began to evaporate.

Leishmann watched with menacing patience as Claire’s mind cleared and her senses began to return with disturbing clarity. It was in that moment her mind registered fear and remembered pain.

A slow smile crossed Leishmann’s face and Claire knew it was the fear he had waited for.

He loomed over her, stretching her into the air and making it difficult for her to struggle against him. He gave her one violent shake to assure her trepidation was complete. Pain radiated through her with a force she had not expected and she cried out at his harsh treatment. He smiled and Claire could read in his eyes the anticipation of his next assault and knew he wanted her to feel every sting he could inflict upon her.

Panicked she opted for the one last method of defense she could think of. She lifted her knee with complete accuracy. He grunted, but his grip never wavered. His eyes darkened further and she prayed her for her numbness to return; because she was unsure if she could endure the agony he intended for her.

“Sometimes little mice get caught in a trap they cannot escape. By the way, I want you to know, I believe you were telling me the truth about Marcel and the book.” He said calmly, his voice grating her nerves. Claire paled at the complete transformation of his face. She could not describe the mixture of animosity, arrogance and darkness surrounding the man standing serenely before her. The effect made her completely miss the fact he had admitted she had not lied to him.

She shuddered when smiled sweetly and wrapped both her wrists in one hand while the other moved to trace a tender line over her jaw and trail its way its way down her side to cup her waist to pull her against him. Slowly he raked his eyes over her before returning his gaze to lock with hers. His eyes held her captive as a cobra’s does with its prey. She could not look away and for the first time she was frozen by fear.

“You are so perfect. I have never met a more ravishing being in my life. You fight with vigor worthy of my admiration, but now my pet, I must show you that I am your master.” To her dismay he leaned forward and softly placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. “You have shown me your skills, but now, My Dove,” his eyes glowed with eagerness and he shifted to better fuse their bodies against each other, “It’s my turn!”

Sudden realization hit her with a violent blow. This had been his plan all along; to bait her into attacking him so he could repay her tenfold. He had played her a fool, tested her skills, twisted her emotions and lured her into a fight they both knew he would win. It had been her that had misjudged him and in doing so, she had handed him his victory.

She turned her head, looking for anything to defend herself with. She locked eyes with the servant. What she saw in them made her blood turn cold. He looked on her with a mournful forbidding before he turned his back and quickly left the tent. Looking back at Leishmann she flinched at the hostile stillness radiating from him.

“I warned you and I would enjoy teaching you. I am pleased you would give me the opportunity.”

Leishmann dropped her hands and waited while she quickly gained her stance, although doing so caused her to quickly cradle her middle. She flinched at the pain and desperately wanted to assess the extent of her wounds, to know the effect they may have on her escape, but she dared not take her eyes off Leishmann.

Her heart pounded in her chest and fear like nothing she had ever experienced dragged her backwards. She felt weighed down by an unexpected heaviness in her legs. Pain raked its ugly claws across her ribs and tore at her skull each time she took a step, but she continued her trek backward. Finally- after Leishmann made no attempt to stop her-she turned and bolted.

She reached the tent flap and threw it open, fresh air seeped into her lungs and gave her a burst of encouragement. Freedom beckoned to her with open arms. One step, two steps, three…

Claire’s body came to an abrupt and painful stop. Leishman’s arm wrapped unforgivingly around her waist and crushed her against him.

“I did not dismiss you!” His lips brushed against her ear and his breath touched her softly. The combination caused a dreadful cramp in the pit of her stomach. She screamed and wildly searched the faces of the grungy men surrounding the camp, hunting for a hero. In their eyes she saw pity or amusement, but none held the courage to step forward and save her from her fate. Hopelessness filled her as Leishmann carried her back inside the tent.

Claire struggled against his arm, fighting with all her strength and attempting to ignore the agony the movements caused. She managed to stomp on one foot, before she was swung around to face him.

“You’ll learn, one way or another, I am your Lord and it is I who maintains control in all things.” His voice remained calm and precise and she closed her eyes to the charming smile that replaced his cold stare. “No worries, My Pet, it will all be over soon.” His lips brushed her brow and she cringed.

Her cry of pain echoed within the walls of the tent as another rib cracked from his ruthless hold. As suddenly as he had her in his arms, she was unceremoniously deposited onto the floor.

Her body was flung around and Leishmann loomed over her, fierce and dangerous, holding her shoulders firmly against the hard ground. A victorious smile spread across his face and left little doubt he intended to make her beg for a quick death.

Claire stared, unable to look away, as Leishmann’s fist came down on her. Searing pain throbbed through the side of her face. With dizzying speed the strikes rained down on her. The pain became unbearable and after only a few minutes she could no longer see Leishmann through her swollen eyes. Blow after blow raked through her. Her arm cracked when she brought it forward to shield herself then fell limply to her side. Soon every inch of her body begged for mercy, but she could not form the words to plead with her attacker and so she felt herself seeking a solace within her mind; a place to escape where Leishmann could not find her.

Somewhere in the fog she recognized high pitched screams, but she was uncertain where they were coming from. They deafened her, until soon they too fell silent.

Slowly her body became numb to the blows. Although she felt the jar of her body each time Leishmann bashed his fist into her. She became disoriented and a dim light loomed in the distance, it looked comforting, welcoming. She wanted to go to it.

The last thing she remembered before welcoming the lightness around her was the faint sound of a familiar voice yelling “That’s enough, Leishmann! STOP!” Through the haziness she felt a great weight lift from her. “Claire, stay with me, you’ll be alright.” A soft voice soothed. She loved his voice.

Claire floated across the earth, embracing the lightness of her body before she fell into a quiet, comforting oblivion.