Angie Arms - Flames series 04 (15 page)

Quickly he pulled his sword from its scabbard, the feel of it was odd in his tingling hands.  He took two steps and coughed back the bile.  Damien had lost a great deal of blood
, all he had to do was hold out longer, Garrick kept telling himself.

The amount of blood Damien was losing weakened him.  He knew the wound on his leg had slowed, but the one in his side was causing the problem.  He didn’t think it struck any vital organs, but he could feel the warm blood wetting his pants, all the way down the leg.

He swore when he watched the Bastard draw his sword.  He held the weapon oddly Damien realized
, taking a tentative step forward on his injured leg.  It hurt to put weight on it, but not nearly as bad as the pain that radiated from the wound in his side.  Each time he tried to straighten, it felt as if it was tearing open a little wider.

Garrick rushed at him, his sword rose, swinging toward him.  Damien tried to side step
, while he remain hunched over slightly to ease his pain.  His sword met Garrick’s, the power behind the blow nearly made Damien drop his sword.  They spun away from one another.  Damien favored his right leg, as it began to radiate a nearly debilitating discomfort.

Garrick shifted his sword back and forth
, between his right and left hand, before he made another move toward Damien.  This attack was low, obviously Garrick saw his pain, and was going to take advantage.  Garrick wasn’t moving as fast, so Damien had time to side step, and lunge forward with his own sword.  Garrick’s foot came up, and with a groan coming from the man’s lips, he planted a foot in the middle of Damien’s chest, knocking him backward.

As Damien’s body instinctively twisted to keep his balance and remain on his feet
, his wounds screamed at him.  He heard Garrick making a gagging noise, as Damien caught himself on the wall and steadied himself.  The room seemed to spin wildly for a moment.  Garrick was having his own troubles, because he wasn’t attacking, while Damien tried to bring everything back into focus.  He just had to outlast Garrick.  Pressing his hand to the wound in his side, he moved toward him.

He felt the hard wood beneath his back.  Terror gripped him like a vice squeezing his breath, while his stomach churned, and sadness beyond any he thought possible filled him.  His mother gave him away.  Sold him.  The one person he hoped would never turn her back on him, had given him to the horrible men.  His body ached, his head pounded, and there was a strange numbness about his legs.  He heard the men shuffling about, coming closer.

Garrick’s eyes snapped open and the sitting room came to him in a blurry haze. 
Damien.  Move, move, move
, his mind screamed at his body, as he forced it to roll.  He rolled toward the hulking figure, the tip of Damien’s sword struck the floor where his head had just been.  His body struck Damien in the legs, and the weight of the big man came crashing down on him.  Sharp pain sliced through Garrick as he lay beneath Damien, drawing in ragged, coughing gasps of air. 

“Son of a bitch!” Damien exclaimed
, his voice full of fatigue and frustration.  Damien groaned, a hand going to his side, his breath coming in quick gasps.  As he lay on top of him, Garrick felt the other man’s hand pressed to his side.  “Why won’t you die already?” he finally managed to ask.

Garrick took the question as rhetorical
, so did not respond.  Garrick knew he could end this now.  Damien’s fatigue was evident, but since the big man landed on him, Garrick was unsure if his sword was still in his hand, or if he dropped it.  A welcome numbness radiated from the area between his shoulder blades, yet disturbing at the same time.  It took away the pain, but it frightened him that it would take away more. 

Damien waited another moment before rolling off Garrick.  He managed to get to his knees and paused again, he leaned heavily on his sword, his breaths came fast and with difficulty
, as he clutched at his side.  Garrick looked away to stare at the ceiling above his head.  He would move when Damien moved, he decided.  Even injured, he was faster than that oaf.  So he lay there, trying to catch his breath, and take stock of what he could feel.  Blessedly he was not completely numb, it was the tingling sensation desensitizing his extremities that was disconcerting.  He did still hold his sword, but he waited to raise it.  Until Damien moved.

He waited,
and waited.  It seemed like an absurd amount of time he lay on the floor with the man he was supposed to kill, or he was to be killed by, unmoving.  Yet they both breathed heavily, and Garrick waited.

Finally
, Damien shifted a foot, placing it flat on the floor.  He leaned into his sword and shifted his weight forward, so his arms could assist his legs in straightening to a stance.  He never got his other foot under him, groaning in the effort, until he finally eased sideways so he sat in the floor, and slid backward so his back rested against the wall. 

Now was his chance.  Garrick rolled sideway
s and forward, nearly blacking out from the effort.  He managed to get his arm beneath him so he did not collapse.  Damien could sit after all.  If Garrick could sit, it would at least be even ground while they stared at each other.  Garrick eventually shifted and used a table leg as a prop, and that was what the two men did for several moments, sat and stared at one another.

~   ~   ~

Warner watched the twisting, undulating performers as they entertained the King.  They moved about the room, black and white capes floating on the air.  They held them in their hands to extend them out, so they caught the breeze as they moved about the hall.  The group with the white capes also wore white masks, and those in the black capes wore black and red masks.

The performance was a portrayal of the forces of good and evil
, or some such tripe.  One of the actors, a woman wearing one of the black capes, intrigued him.  The way she twisted and swayed her hips, her short muscular legs could be seen in the outline of her simple tunic, as she danced.  Her breasts stretched the fabric taught, as her chest heaved with the long and strenuous performance. As she squatted and twisted, the outline of her ass showed it to be well shaped.  The dancers had to be in excellent condition, and her body seemed to reflect this.

“I have had time to consider the situation,” Richard said, his finger motioning Warner to lean closer, over the back
of the King’s chair, where he stood behind it at the King’s right shoulder.  He hoped his position would send a message to all those who saw. 

“Garrick is growing unpredictable.  It would not do for him to grow a conscience now.  Get rid of him.”

“It would be my extreme pleasure.  First, I beg of you to allow me to see the performance through to the end,” Warner replied humbly. 

“Do you find it particularly intriguing?” the King asked
, with a glance at Warner, who still leaned over him.  Warner’s attention had left the King and was now riveted to the woman who danced just in front of them. 

The King looked in the direction Warner’s eyes were cast.  “Or perhaps it’s
one certain wench who has your interest.  Very well.  For your service you can make use of my home another night, and I will have her sent to you.”

“That is most gracious Your Majesty,” Warner said
, but he found he could not take his eyes from her.  She danced so closely, and each time she spun she would pause, and look upon the dais.  Perhaps she was a woman hopeful for some handsome coin before the night was out.  Her eyes were hazel, seeming to change color in the flickering light, enhanced by the darkness of the loose tendrils framing her face.

The evil powers, the black capes, surrounded the good powers.  The girl spun in
a frenzy, the cape billowing around her, flying out, giving her the look of some kind of enchanted bat.  Suddenly the good powers raised their arms, their capes billowing, and the evil powers dropped to their knees.  All the evil powers faced outside the circle, facing the crowd that surrounded them.  Their head’s lowered, their capes wrapped tightly around themselves, as they crouched beneath the spinning white capes.  It was quite the touch, but Warner’s eyes were riveted to the woman.  She raised her head, seeing it at just the right angle, he saw the freckles beneath the mask.  The eyes and the freckles intrigued him, with her height, she was a childlike nymph

She lowered her head again
, and he knew in that instant he would have fun with her.  He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of woman would perform with the men.  He saw the troupe arrive earlier, though there were women among them, he did not expect to see one perform.  Such a role for a woman was disgraceful, yet here she was, and despite everyone’s opinion of her in the morning, she appeared to have many eating out of the palm of her hand tonight. 

The good powers came down, enveloping the evil ones in their billowy white capes.  Out of the center of the good p
owers came a man depicting the King.  He walked forward, toward the King, and suddenly the white caped man, who was concealing the woman, sprang back, and she stood turning, the black cape swirling about her, as she faced off with the fake Richard.  He advanced on her, and she stalked toward him, around him.  Her cape billowing around her.  She came to stand in front of him.  Suddenly the acting King picked her up and slammed her down on the table in front of the real one.  The actor then pulled his wooden sword, and drove it into the evil power, between her arm and side, so she held it up as if it protruded from her chest.  She pretended to try to pull it from her, but finally gave up the effort, and died.  She flung her arms out, turning her head toward Warner and the King.  She lay there a moment, before opening them again, and winked at the King.  In return Richard threw back his head and laughed.

The play ended and Richard clapped heartily, turning to give Warner a wink as the woman sat up on the table.  She rolled toward the King’s side, avoiding the food that still lay about. 

Richard’s hand came out to settle on her arm, stopping her escape.  Her eyes immediately fell to the floor.  “This is Warner.  You are to do what he says tonight.”  Scared blue eyes locked with his, while the King laid a handful of coins in her palm.  She looked from Warner to her hand, and stared at the coins there for several moments.  Warner saw her jaw clinching and unclenching, her neck working as she swallowed nervously.  When she raised her eyes again, he saw tears pooled there.  Some men would feel sympathy for the girl’s plight, but not him.  He wanted to see them flowing freely from her innocent blue eyes, and he hardened at the thought.

“The only thing is I like this girl’s performance, I would hate for you to hurt her overly much,” the King said to Warner.

Warner caught the King’s meaning, and felt disappointment flow through him.  He would have to come up with a different plan to fulfill his needs on this night.  “Come along then,” Warner said, taking her roughly by the elbow and pulling her along behind him.  At one point she dug in her heels and Warner turned swiftly, releasing her elbow.

“If you do not want a share of the King’s wealth
, give it to me and I will be sure to tell him.”  Her eyes refused to rise from the floor.  He reached a hand out and grabbed her by the chin, his fingers digging into her skin, as he forced her to look at him.  “Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do.  You heard the King, I can’t hurt you overly much.”

She nodded the best she could with him holding her chin.  “Good girl.”  He released her chin
, and ran the back of his knuckles down her cheek.  She closed her eyes, but did not flinch.  “We’ll work out that bashfulness,” Warner said, before turning away.  “Come along.  The night is far too short.”

When he reached his chamber the girl was not far behind.  He stood to the side
, and let her walk through the door first.  Once over the threshold, he closed the door, and lowered the bar that would keep any intruders out, or keep a frightened young woman from fleeing.

“Remove your clothes,” he ordered, as he went to build up the fire in the hearth. 

Once the fire was blazing Warner straightened and turned to see the woman still stood where she was, visibly shaking.  Slowly Warner moved to her and stood over her.

“Give me the coins.”

Her eyes rose to his again, and she gave a half shake of her head. 

“Are you a virgin?”

She looked so frightened, her eyes fell back to the floor, and finally she nodded, her entire body was trembling.

“What is your name?”

“Grace.”

“All right Grace.  I will forgive you your rude behavior since you obviously do not know how this works.  The King has given you a large sum of money in exchange for your body tonight.  When a woman is purchased
, she does not hesitate to do what the man who now owns her says.  Do you understand me?”

He saw Grace open her hand and look at the coins there
, before raising her eyes to him and nodding.  “Put your coins on that table right there, then come back over here and take your clothes off.”

She slowly went to the table and back, her feet sluggish
, but finally getting his order accomplished.  He stood with his arms crossed, as she reluctantly removed her clothes.  Once finished, she tried to cross her arms over her breasts.  “Let down your hair.”