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Valiant finds himself beset by guilt at the predicament he's put her in. |
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The air screamed through her lungs like fire. Her legs begged for a respite. Behind them, she could hear the shouts of angry soldiers hot on their heels. She squinted ahead through the sweat streaming down her face and clenched his hand even tighter. They rounded a corner toward the lower level kitchens. “The closet,” he gasped, jerking at her so suddenly and so hard that she stumbled to her knees and was dragged past the beer kegs into a shabby cheese closet. She doubled over, clapping her hands over her mouth and trying desperately to bring her jagged breaths under control. Something stirred behind her and Celesti shot upright barely stifling a scream. A boy bespeckled with angry red splotches lay in the corner. As he opened his swollen, plague ridden eyes, he cried out, making a strangled gurgling noise in his throat. Before she could move, Valiant was at the boy’s throat, knife flashing. That time she couldn’t stifle the scream as blood spurted from the ugly slit. He sprang from the dead boy and clapped a bloody hand over her mouth. “It had to be done,” he panted in her ear, hand gripping her mouth tightly. There was no hope. She knew that. He knew it. The sounds of the enraged soldiers were getting closer now and she tightened the whip around wrist, gathering herself and glancing at him. Valiant nodded, drawing the great sword from his back. In a matter of seconds, soldiers would be swarming this hallway and all its closets like bees going for honeycomb. They would be taken and forced back into slavery. Steeling herself, she glanced at him one final time and nodded. Then with a blood curdling cry, whip snapping, she hurtled herself into the oncoming soldiers. Valiant crouch on his heels beside her, holding a damp cloth to the angry red whiplash across her cheek. He stared down at her sleeping, bloody body and his stomach twisted again. He wanted to puke and scream and hurt someone - all at the same same time. Color flushed across his face. How many times was it now? How many times had he done this to her? Who the fuck did that to this kind of girl? He eyed the dagger lying on the bedside table. It beckoned seductively. For the past few days as he tended to her, desperately willing her to hold on, his ears had been raped again and again by the memory of her agonized screams as the soldiers had tortured her. Every time he closed his eyes or rested his mind, the screams came rushing in. There was no respite. Celesti stirred and moaned as his fingers curled viciously around the wet cloth and squeezed more water across her cheek. For the first time in...was it three days already? her eyes opened and she squinted at him. Valiant’s stomach flip-flopped. He was going to be sick. It had been days since she’d moved or opened her eyes. There had been times he’d wondered if she would ever come back to consciousness….times he’d almost wished she would let go and pass from this misery. This was going to be the worst part. In those past few days of unconsciousness, she hadn’t felt a thing. Now she was going to feel every sensation and he was going to have to watch her experience it. The screams came roaring back to his ears. Valiant shook his head as if to shake them away. Cursed soldiers. Fucking cursed Morgnath. Celesti blinked. Her eyes were glassy, clouded with pain. They wouldn’t focus. “It’s ok,” he whispered at her. Half of him wanted to take her in his arms and hold her, but he couldn’t. Even if it wouldn’t have sent her into fits of agony, he couldn’t bring himself to touch her after what he’d done. Instead, he stupidly muttered, “I’m here. I’ve got you.” His voice cracked, “Just rest, ‘Lesti. Let me take care of you.” Celesti moved her lips to form words but only strange, hoarse sounds came out. After a moment, she closed her eyes again and slid a weak hand toward him. Valiant sucked in a hard breath and flinched. Why? Why the fuck did she have to be so damn sweet? He wished more than anything that she would have hit him or cursed his name. The hand she wanted him to take was far worse than any physical reprimand. Did she know that? Of course not! He hated himself for even allowing the thought. Celesti was too good to rub something like this in his face. He was a cad for entertaining the thought. The knife glistened in the forge light all the more seductively and the wounds of past pleasure ached in his arms. Roughly brushing a hand across his eyes, Valiant forced himself to take her little hand in both of his and stared down at it. Hopefully she wouldn’t noticed how he was shaking. Tattooed with scar-tissue, both her hands were criss-crossed with countless burns and her palms were hardened with tough, mannish calluses. It was nearly impossible to recall a time when they had been normal, run of the mill hands. Where once upon a time he’d held those soft hands and danced with her...or dodged numerous blows from their furious owner. A time he’d been able to look at her - to touch her - without feeling sick and guilty. To break the unbearable silence, he dipped the rag back into the water bowl. The lashes on her back had been driving him wild the past few days, but he’d known better than to clean them without permission. He hesitated as he wrung the rag out and flushed a little. “I need…” he gulped around sudden growing embarrassment and mentally slapped himself. Idiot. “I know you aren’t going to like this but...” His temper flared and he immediately embraced it. This was already awkward. Why the fuck was he making such a big deal of out it? Was he good for nothing? Celesti opened her eyes again at the sound of water. Valiant hesitated, flushing again as it hit him full force. He was about to ask Celesti - never-show-skin-above-the-knee if she had it her way - to basically get topless. As friends and captives they’d shared countless experiences - good, bad, vulnerable and embarassing - and they had a bond deeper than he’d ever thought he would share with another being but this was another matter entirely. He cleared his throat, looking her bloodied back up and down, trying to figure out another way. “I...I know you aren’t going to like this but...” he gulped around his rapidly growing embarrassment. He probably looked like a fucking fish out of water, “your dress appears, well, your back. It’s so messed up. It needs...see, I waited until…” “It’s alright,” she croaked with a reassuring attempt at a smile, “You won’t leer at me like other men do.” An almost impish smiled just barely flitted across Celesti’s beaten, bloodied face. She would find comfort in his consternation, the imp. The girl had a streak of mischief a mile wide. Nothing - absolutely nothing - could quell that. She motioned to him to help her roll onto her stomach and he flinched away again, reluctant to inflict yet more pain. Celesti whimpered as he reached out and touched her - one hand on a shoulder, the other on her thin, jutting hip. Her skin was warm - too warm under the gentle pressure of his hand. Valiant used every muscle in his body to roll her as gently as humanly possible, but she still cried out in pain as her body slowly moved. For a second, Valiant wanted to cry at the agonized noise she made, but instead he reached for the anger. He knew it would help. It always did. It took away the helplessness and pain. It didn’t leave room for anything else. Sometimes he wished he could care less - that he could be selfish and callous. And in every other aspect of his life he could - but not when it came to Celesti. She brought out the little good that there was in him. He should hate her for that, he thought, but he couldn’t. She was the only good thing he had, and she was the only part from his past, reminding him that once he had been free. Celesti bowed her head quietly. Shaking, Valiant turned back to the task at hand. With one quick movement, he tore her top in half, revealing much more damage than he had hoped to see. Deep, angry whip marks criss-crossed from her neck all the way down to her meatless hips. Her shoulders were so thin and protruded that a few of the oozing lashes had cut all the way to the bone. He stared in horror at the blood, the bone, the mangled skin. It was almost fascinating. How was she even conscious? Alive? Then terror set in. What if the wounds festered? With all the damage, it would be a miracle if they all healed properly. If they festered and filled with pus...she’d...he scrambled for something- anything - to take the fear away, but for once not even the anger could fill the void of absolute terror. They’d been Morgnath’s slaves for five agonizing years now. From listening in on what gossip they could get a hold of, they’d gleaned that the raid on the Fat Dog all those years ago had been a slave-gathering mission. Only healthy, young adults had been taken back to Morgnath’s mountain. He’d always wondered if any survivors had been left behind. If ever they got out of here, he vowed would go back and see what was left of his home town. Maybe that wee lass Katrini - what had she been, three? - had been spared and would have blossomed into a beautiful woman by the time he went back. Or Millie’s baby boy, James. Maybe he’d been spared and would be a strong, thriving lad if he ever got back. His heart ached to think of going back and the cruel reality he might find. Valiant and Celesti had been assigned to work under silversmith Demitri, who forged weapons and armour for Morgnath - Lord and fucking nemesis of the mountain - and his most important generals. Demitri was kind to them and eventually revealed that he too had been taken from Catar in a similar raid more than forty years previously. When the old man told them this, Celesti had nodded her head sagely, as if she knew just what he was talking about. Later, she told him that they’d learned about the raids in their history classes. If only he’d paid attention. In the grand scheme of things, they were well taken care of as slaves and they both knew it. Those that were assigned more menial duties had a much poorer quality of life...and much shorter life expectancies. Under Demitri’s careful supervision, both Valiant and Celesti had excelled at silversmithing. Celesti’s dainty, deft hands could make the most beautiful designs and place jewels with stunning precision. Valiant’s strength made shaping and hammering the pieces effortless and quick. He had a knack for perfecting the weight and heft of a weapon. But Valiant had a temper. In the beginning, he’d taken every opportunity to show defiance. He’d purposely made pieces that looked perfect but broke when put under strain, he fought with the guards, defied anyone in the slightest position of authority and even defecated outside of the generals’ hall once. At first, he’d been beaten or starved when he acted out. Then as the years passed and the punishments did nothing to quench his spirit, his superiors had tried a new tactic. They began punishing Celesti when he acted out. Initially the threat frightened him - kept him in check for a few weeks - but he didn’t think they were really serious. Who would do that to an innocent maid? She was so sweet, so perfect. They wouldn’t really follow through. A few months after that, at Valiant’s urging, they had made a break for freedom and were caught before they even made it out of the mountain. True to their word, the generals had not touched him - not a single whip lash. Instead, they’d chained him to a bench, tied Celesti to a whipping post and forced him to watch as she paid the price for his defiance. That should have taught him - he should have learned, but there were times when he couldn’t control himself. Sometimes he consciously reached for the anger; other times the red haze took away all control. She’d been beaten and starved dozens of times over the past two years..all because of him. This one was the worst, by a long shot. This time the soldiers had beaten her with every weapon imaginable, from fists to sticks to maces to whips. He’d been forced to watch every agonizing second of it. Celesti wasn’t a screamer or crier. When she cried, things were bad - really, really bad. If she screamed, the agony was unbearable. Valiant had seen her burn her wrist to the bone and not make a sound before. The night they’d been on the slave line and he’d beaten the beauty out of her she hadn’t made a sound, either. Fuck how she’d screamed the other night. She’d held off for as long as she could, so the only sounds he coud hear were the thuds of the heavy ropes sinking into her flesh, the soft squelch as they pulled out and left blood streaming, the increasingly sticky sound of blood and flesh as they dug in again and again. It wasn’t until the thin, almost dainty whips came out that screams began to rip fro her throat as they sliced again and again into her mangled back. Her knifing screams kept bouncing around in his head. They’d consumed his dreams for the past three nights. Everytime he looked at her he heard them. Every time he closed his eyes he heard them. It was nearly impossible to even think. He shuddered and his stomach twisted afresh. As if to distract his mind from the horror that kept playing there, Valiant’s eyes wandered curiously down her naked, mutilated back. A shiver ran down his spine as he pressed the cloth onto her hour-glass like back again and tried to focus on finishing the shoddy bathing. “Do you remember the day we were taken?” Celesti’s soft, cracked voice jolted Valiant’s mind back to the present. When he looked up, he saw that tears were slowly running down her cheeks. Celesti rarely cried. When she did, things were bad. Very bad. “We danced at your brother’s party.” Valiant smiled at the memory. “You didn’t want to but I made you feel too guilty for saying no. And then you made us trip trying to do that stupid, fancy move? Remember?” Valiant nodded his head, still dabbing at the wounds. He didn’t even have to close his eyes to see the party lights strung across the Fat Dog, the beet root beer kegs dotting the tables, the smiling faces, the illicit alcohol, the happy music... “Of course I do,” he whispered, “it’s one of the few good things I can still remember.” *** Celesti had drifted back into a state of unconsciousness as he labored over her wounds. Valiant was glad. He hated seeing her bite her lip to keep the cries from escaping. Couldn’t stand watching her face alternately pale and flush with the agony. He heard the sounds of the evening food cart rumbling down the cavernous tunnel toward the forge. His heart pricked in anticipation. Maybe it would be Francesca. The maid had a kind heart. Surely he’d be able to talk her into giving him some extra water to clean Celesti’s wounds with. Even the waif-faced boy - Kean, he thought it was - might ration him some extra. Just so long as it wasn’t that fat bitch Cassandra. She’d likely box his ears if he dared ask for extra water. Hopefully, he looked toward the door as the rumbling got louder. The cart rounded the door and Francesca’s smudged, dirty face appeared. Valiant grinned. “Hey Frankie!” he called. She glanced around nervously. “No one’s here,” he reassured her. Lately, the forge master had been popping by to monitor and prod them. He’d slapped Francesca’s skinny ass the last time she spoke too many pleasantries to them and ever since, she’d scurried in and out without a word. This was the first time she’d been by since Celesti had been beaten. Her face went ashen when she saw Celesti’s half naked, motionless body in the corner and her round mouth gaped. “No time to explain,” Valiant said quickly, “But I need more water, Frankie.” He gestured at the bloody bowl he’d been using. He’d been using it for so long that it was more blood and sweat than water now. “Can you help a fellow out? Please?” Francesaca hazarded a trepidous glance over her shoulder. Her scraggly, dirty hair fell over her eyes as she lookd toward the pitchers of water on her cart, then over at Celesti and finally to Valiant’s pleading eyes. Nodding, she held a hand out for the bowl. Hastily, Valiant dumped the bowl and eagerly held it out to her trying to control the shaking of his hands. “Thanks Frankie,” he murmured, pressing her hand and turning back to Celesti. Frankie disappeared back into the hallways. “This ought to help,” he said to the unconscious girl and turning back to her naked back. Closing his eyes for a moment he let his mind wander back to a time when she’d had a smooth, unmarred body. A time before he’d inflicted these wounds on her. It was a hot, day in Catar and practically all the village kids were swimming in the small stream that bubbled through. Celesti had been minding a few of the village babies on the stream bank but one by one they’d fallen asleep or their mothers had come to fetch them. That left Celesti sitting on the bank by herself, wistfully gazing at the glorious water. “C’mon, ‘Lesti,” he remembered calling, “the water is great!” She’d hesitated, he recalled, because she didn’t have swimming clothes. The women of Catar wore heavy skirts that were cumbersome and impossible to move well in. Catarians valued modesty in a woman - at least, they were supposed to. Celesti seemed to value it. Eventually, he, Bahar and Aamir had cajoled her into stripping down to her chemise and underskirt. She’d wrapped her arms around herself and hurried into the water to hide herself but he still remembered noticing how smooth and pretty her freckled shoulders were. Opening his eyes, Valiant felt sick as he stared at the bloody mass leering at him. In some twisted way, it was almost beauitful and he hated himself for allowing the thought. His eyes strayed back to the dagger glistening in the firelight. With a final squeeze of the dirty rag, he pulled a blanket over Celesti’s back and sat back. She’d drifted in and out of consciousness as he worked but was back out for the moment. The dagger glinted again and he slowly allowed his fingers to take up the hilt. Just a touch. He wouldn’t do anything else. He just wanted to feel it. Quietly he retreated to the opposite corner of the forge. Usually they slept together but tonight he couldn’t. As he allowed his body to slump onto the dirt floor, the full enormity of guilt hit him. Her glassy eyes. The bone protruding through mangled skin. Her screams. Valiant sucked in a deep breath. The cold steel between his fingers was amazing, grounding. His arms ached again, throbbing with desire. He reached for the anger as wave after wave of guilt crashed over him and instead felt the need grow more urgenet. His fingers twitched on the hilt. His arms tightened. What was the point holding off? Decision made, he scrambled into a kneeling position and jerked his shirt off. His blood quickened in his veins as he set the blade to his left arm. The point pricked and a single drop of blood bubbled into a perfect round ball before slowly rolling down his skin, hot and sticky. For moment, a picture of the soliders beating her jumped into his mind’s eye. Cursing inwardly, he slid the blade in a quick upward movement. White hot agony hit his brain. Valiant opened his eyes and stared in hazy delight at the red bubbles sliding and dripping down his body. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. His shoulders shuddered and sagged with relief. This would put the tables back in some kind of balance. He started as another wave of desire hit him full force. Feeling the need building, he drew the blade slowly across his arm, across old scars and new - drawing out the sensation as the need for release built. As his urgency grew more desperate, he switched hands and began to work himself over with his off hand. Every red line he drew on his skin tightened his trembling fist. Every furious stroke made his blood rise all the higher. Hot red streaks running down his arms and chest, he felt that familiar tightness in his stomach as his muscles clenched. Pain, guilt and desire blended together and he gasped in shock and relief as the knife bit his chest one last time. With a sudden rush it all drained out of him. His rage, his self loathing but most of all his need. Perhaps he would be able to sleep tonight without seeing her suffering in his dreams. Still gasping, arms and chest burning but satisfied, he slowly found his feet and cleaned up the hot, sticky mess he’d left on the dirt. A quick glance told him that Celesti was still out. Good. He needed to rest. *** His breath hissed in and out of his mouth as he worked over the forge with furious energy. Stupid, fucking chainmail. Stupid, fucking temper. He closed his eyes for a second and Celesti’s screams began to bounce around his head again. The guilt started to press in. It felt so immense and overwhelming that he physically felt a weight on his chest. For a moment he panicked, his breaths coming even shorter and more ragged. The air wouldn’t fill his lungs no matter how hard he sucked. Then he reached again for the rage. He allowed it to curl back inside, forcing the guilt out and filling his every cell with the hot rage. Celesti was finally well enough to walk. She was weak and could only make it from bed to chamberpot but she was up and unfevered. Valiant had wanted to stay and nurse her every second of every day but she had insisted he get back to work. They had projects due and Morgnath wouldn’t care about their pathetic excuses. Behind him from their makeshift bed, Celesti suddenly sucked in a lungful of air. Immediately, Valiant whirled. A tall, dark man darkened the forge door. Vlad. When Valiant and Celesti had first been captured, Dimitri had been their immediate master. A fellow Catarian, he had secured the position of forge slaves for them, taught them the skills they needed and made sure they had the best possible life - all things considered. Just recently he had taken ill (rumor had it that the plague was visiting Morgnath’s castle) and been replaced by Vlad. Valiant hadn’t realized just how well Dimitri had taken care of them. Vlad had quickly established himself as cruel, arrogant and dangerous, doubling their workload, cutting back on their rations and pushing them to work harder and faster. Celesti struggled to push herself up to a sitting position as Vlad strode toward the hollowed out nook they called their bed. “I came to check on the invalid,” his voice was smooth, like butter, but there was an underlying current of evil in it, “A pity that any of this had to happen in the first place.” Celesti flinched as Vlad bent down and touched her forehead. “No fever,” he murmured, tracing a single finger down her cheek, down her neck and off her arm as if he had the right to touch her however he wanted. Celesti flinched again and Vlad grinned. “Afraid of a handsome man’s touch, are we?” Without warning he grabbed the nape of her neck and pulled her face close to his, grin melting off his dark face. “Don’t you ever fucking flinch away from me again, wench. Hear me?” Valiant stepped toward Vlad aggressively, eyes flashing, muscles twitching. He froze as Celesti shot him a killer look. “Apologies, Lord Vlad,” she murmured, turning her sweet face willingly up to his with submission that would melt a glacier, “I’m afraid I’m still sore.” She smiled quietly at the big, mean man and Valiant immediately regretted his impulsive move as Celesti forced herself past the pain he knew was consuming her body and past her natural shyness. “Valiant,” she called, turning toward him as Vlad released her, “Will you bring the chainmail here? His Lordship Morgnath requested this piece,” she explained, turning back to Vlad, “Valiant has almost finished it.” She took the mail Valiant held out toward her, pinching him as she did so, eyes begging him to stay in check. He stayed close, protective. Vlad wasn’t to be trusted with her. “See how it’s been infused with diamond dust?” she asked gently shaking the chainmail so that it glinted in the forge light, “His Lordship will be most stunning in it.” Vlad reached out and touched the chainmail Celesti held close to her body for examination. His fingers brushed her skin again and Valiant saw Celesti’s body tense even further. He could practically see her skin crawling as her nostrils flared and her shoulders quivered with tension. “As you can see,” Celesti murmured, flourishing the mail agan, “he still has to finish the right sleeve but it should be finished on the morrow, yes?” She turned back to Valiant and Vlad’s eyes immediately lit upon her backside, obviously enjoying the view of her torn, exposed back and waist. Valiant hardly heard her question he was trying so hard to control the red haze that threatened to take over his mind. “Yeah,” he said, shaking his head, “I’ll take it up tomorrow afternoon when we finish.” “Good.” Vlad nodded. He stood, dusting his pants. He turned toward Celesti again, standing just a little too close to her, “Heal soon, little one. I’ll be back to check on you.” With one final flick of his eyes at Celesti, he turned and was gone. Wordlessly Celesti met Valiant’s eyes, all the energy fading from her as she sank back into their bed. She wouldn’t chastize him for his near outburst, he knew. He wished she would. He wished she would yell and scold - maybe even slap, but that wasn’t Celesti. Never had been, never would be. “That man is dangerous, Celesti,” he murmured, kneeling next to her. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how we could -” Celesti spun on him violently, “how we could what, Valiant? Try to escape again? Get caught again? Go through that again? No.” Her tone was colder than he’d ever heard it be, eyes more angry and fearful than he’d seen in a long, long time,“no, no, no. Don’t even fucking start.” Valiant opened his mouth to protest but she slapped her hand over it and shook her head, breath quick and light. She was shaking, he noticed, as her fingers dug into his mouth. “I said no, Valiant. Don’t ever bring it up again.” Without another word, Celesti let her hand fall from his mouth, and turned her back to him in their makeshift bed. Valiant sighed, shoulders sagging. He felt tired and defeated. His back hurt, his muscles ached and his burns stung but most of all his spirit felt deflated. He sat where Celesti had left him, quietly trailing his fingers through the fine forge sand. He stayed like that until Celesti’s slow, deep breathing said she was fast asleep. Only then did he cautiously ease into bed beside her. As he slid into the grooves and faucets his body had made in the dirt bed over the years, Valiant felt Celesti’s back quiver and he jolted… *** “Quick,” he hisses, shaking her out of a fitful sleep, “Celesti, some of us are going to be selected for Morgnath’s harems,” he is shaking uncontrollably, “Celesti!” “What?” she groans, the chains about her ankles clanking as she rolls to face him. Her cheeks go ashen as his words sink into her sleep fogged brain. He is already frantically looking around them, panic in his face. His heart is hammering uncontrolably and his body has broken out in a cold sweat. Celesti is a pretty girl - he knows that, even if he’ll never admit it to a soul. She’ll be snapped up for a harem in a second. Their friendship is innocent but he can imagine her earth shattering screams if she is taken - can see the terror in her eyes and his stomach heaves. He remembers all the times they’ve played together, argued together, fought together...they’ve grown up together. His stomach churns again and he heaves. Celesti is trembling and tears are running down her face when he turns to face her again, a rock in one hand, a thick stick in the other. Wordless, he hands her the stick, which she grits between her teeth. Closing her eyes, she lays back and spreads her arms. He’ll never know how she manages to stay quiet as he beats her with all his strength, but he’ll be haunted for years by the sound the rock makes as it thuds into her flesh over and over again. He’ll never forget the hiss the stinging nettle makes as she buries her face into the plant, then plucks its branches and rubs them all over her back, chest and legs. When she is done with the nettle, she lays back. Her eyes are swollen almost shut. Her lip is busted and bleeding in three different places. She is a picture of grotesque horror, but he has never admired her more. *** Turning onto his side, Valiant touched Celesti’s tousled hair, as if to assure himself that the hair has grown back from the zagged way he’d cut it that day, the scars of that beating faded. He touched a groove in her neck, fingering the hard, gnarly scar tissue that had grown in where his rock had cut particularly deep. Touching her soft hair again, Valiant shuddered and closed his eyes. He still can’t shake the feeling of her body trembling and the sound of the stick grinding between her teeth as he hacks at her mane with the bloodstained rock. He cuts it as short and misshapenly as he can. It’s not hard to do. He’s practically ripping it out with his bare hands. It has been hard to touch her ever since that night. Shuddering, his fingers still touching Celesti’s now long hair, Valiant fell into a restless sleep. |
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