and grabbed Sasha’s hair, pulling her up bodily from the ground. She tried to pull away. “Good. I like it when they have some fight. Don’t worry, honey, you get me first. I’ll be real gentle,” he said, pulling her screaming along.
Legon lurched forward, yelling though his gag. The man turned and smiled. “Oh, do you like to watch? Ok, you can watch.” He threw Sasha to the ground in front of him. The man placed his knee on her back and cut the cords holding her. More cheers came from the men. “Give it to her, sir!” He rolled her over and she tried to hit him. His hand came across her face hard, causing her lip to bleed. He was on top of her then, pulling up her skirt, trying to part her legs. He hit her again. Her eyes were full of tears. She looked up at Legon, pleading for him to stop this, but he couldn’t. He felt the rope cutting deeper into his wrists. This wasn’t happening. Where was the Elven side now when he needed it? He’d gotten her legs apart and pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, smiling wickedly as he felt up her shirt with the other. His hand went down to his pants that were now covered in Sasha’s skirt. He was fumbling around, grunting, trying to hold her down. He pulled down his pants. There was a look of triumph on his face.
“Are you ready honey?”
She tried to beg. “No please, no please, please NO!” The commander laughed.
Legon heard a slight hiss and felt a breeze, saw a slight blur by his eyes and then heard a gurgled scream from the commander. An arrow shaft rose from where his neck met his body. Blood sprayed from the wound, peppering Sasha’s face scarlet. Before the man could get his hands up to the arrow Legon felt a second breeze and saw a figure leaping from the trees, long hair flowing in the air, two long blades in his hands. The ropes binding him were swiftly cut.
The soldiers were running for their swords, but their ambusher was on them. The soldiers had left their captives’ possessions nearby, and Kovos and Legon lunged for their weapons. Kovos’ hands wrapped tight around the handle of his sword. The look on his face was that of an insane man. Legon’s hand found the handle of the cleaver, the new one for splitting animals, the one he hadn’t gotten a chance to use. There was no one to stop the rage this time, no one at all.
One of the men rushed at him with a sword in his left hand, arm outstretched. “That won’t do,” he thought. Legon moved forward and roared as he swung the huge cleaver up. It made contact with the man’s left armpit, passing through cloth and flesh with ease. He felt the blade jerk as it separated the joint, making a crunching, slurping sound. The rest of the tendons and ligaments cut with ease. The blade went in shiny and silver and came out red and with bits of bone and flesh stuck to it. The man screamed as his arm fell to the ground followed by its owner, bleeding everywhere, slicking the rocks and turning the dirt to mud. He only got flashes of the fight the others were in before two more men came at him. Maybe it was the surprise of the attack or perhaps the ferocity of it, but the royal guard seemed to be outclassed.
As the next guard approached him he lashed out, swinging at the man who dodged and parried with his sword. The man aimed a stroke at his head but was deflected by the cleaver. This thing was not a battle ax, and even if it was Legon had no idea how to use it. He needed to end this fight fast. His opponent was gaining ground and his companion was soon to join. As the soldier brought his sword back, Legon slammed into him with his shoulder, making him slip in the bloody mud. As he fell, his companion ran forward wildly. Legon side stepped and as the man passed him, swung the cleaver high above his head and brought it down on the passing man. During their fun the soldiers had removed their helmets, and the man’s skull didn’t do much to stop the blow. There was a thudding sound as the metal passed effortlessly thought the brain and neck, then along his spine, popping ribs from vertebra just like it would in every other animal. It stopped about a foot into the man’s upper body. He turned on his heel, pulled out the blade with a squelching noise and brought it down on the man that had fallen. He tried to raise his arm to protect himself, but there was just a slight jolt as the cleaver cut through his forearm and a crunch as it buried itself deep in the man’s chest.
“He’s going to rape me,” Sasha thought.
There was no way it could be stopped, and all of the others were going to do it too. She tried to fight, but it just seemed to make him stronger. Her vision jarred as he slapped her. He was trying to part her legs and move up her skirt. He was so much bigger than she, and he was toying with her, enjoying the sport. Again he hit her and again this gained him ground. He was between her legs now and had her skirt up. His rough hand ran up her body, under her shirt, grabbing and feeling her. His hand went down to his pants. She could feel the rough fabric against the insides of her thighs as he tried to get them off. His breath stunk. Yellow teeth glinted back at her from his wicked grin.
She was talking but she wasn’t sure what she was saying. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Fear was ripping through her, along with humiliation. She looked over at Legon and Kovos. He was going to make them watch-they were all going to watch. Both men were a blur though the tears, but she saw the murder in their eyes, both so close and yet neither could save her. If only she could have an episode. Then at least she wouldn’t have to be awake for this.
Something warm sprayed her face. She tasted metal. She looked up at the man. There was an arrow shaft growing out of his neck; blood came from it like a fountain. He was falling forward on her, but there was movement, something off to the side.
There was noise all around, but somehow she didn’t hear it. She rolled the man off her and looked to see Legon running forward with a meat cleaver. She jumped as the cleaver severed a man’s arm. She turned her head and saw Kovos with a sword. He was fighting two men. The look in his eyes scared her. Everything else was numb, but those eyes… there was savage hate in them, a look she’d never seen before. This wasn’t how fights were supposed to be. In her head, men had always gotten cut and just died. They didn’t bleed to death, thrashing on the ground.
There was also far more blood than she’d previously thought. Every time someone got hit with a blade it looked as though the assailant had a wet cloth that they were waving around, but instead of covering the tents, trees, and horses with water, it was with blood.
There was another man there as well, the one that had started the fight. His back was to her, but his long hair was familiar. He was holding two swords that were curved along the forward edge and thicker about two-thirds of the way down. Then they came to sharp points. “Who is he?” she thought. “I wish he would turn around.”
Surprisingly enough, the morons had managed to do something right, Arkin had to admit. Their ambush was good, not as good as one of his, but still good. He was up in a tree looking down on them. One of the big ones was beating Keither. This made him mad, but he needed to wait for the right moment before acting, and maybe this would be good for the boy.
Now the one in command was talking to Sasha. He knew where this was going, but he hoped he was wrong. He preferred that most of the men be asleep during his ambush, but there was a line he would not let the soldiers cross. Beating Keither was one thing. Rape was another.
Anger and annoyance built as the soldier threw Sasha down and start to get on top of her. That was it; it was time whether he liked it or not. Sasha was putting up a fight, which in a way made his job harder. He aimed, felt the weight of the bowstring pulling back. Now the idiot couldn’t find his fly. This was good; he made a perfect target. He let go of the string and as usual the arrow hit right where he intended.
He lunged from the tree, drawing his blades and landing next to Legon and Kovos. A quick flick of the wrists and the ropes were cut, and now it was time to do what he did best. He crossed the camp in a few steps, swinging the two blades as he went. They were great for close-quarter fights. The Elves and Iumenta could deflect arrows with them, but he couldn’t. Not that it mattered; none of the idiots went for a bow. In fact they were way under- armed. The undisciplined fools had put down weapons and armor after they had started in on Keither and Sasha.
Unlike the broadswords most of them were using, his weapons were nearly unbreakable and very sharp, so sharp that he barely felt one of them cut through the soldier’s armor. They passed in between the man’s ribs, slicing lungs and heart. They flashed around him as another man went down, missing his head. He saw Legon taking on two with that cleaver. It wasn’t meant to be a weapon, but it seemed to be getting the job done. There was already a man thrashing on the ground missing an arm.
Arkin turned to look at Kovos. As one of the pathetic soldiers passed by, Kovos hit the man hard in between the shoulders with the pommel of his sword, dropping him to the ground. He looked paralyzed. The pommel had probably broken the man’s back. He’d live for long enough to be interrogated.
