The Pearl Savage (33 page)

The
large male of the
fragment
dismounted,
keeping his gaze locked on Matthew. “Well, what do we have here?”
he said, his eyes flicking behind Matthew then to Clara.

Clara
looked at the girl, obviously abused and knew instantly that it was
Evelyn. She looked upon each cruel face and saw no mercy, only evil
intent. She knew that look, she knew it very well. The
fragment
looked upon them as the Queen looked upon her. As Prince Frederic
did. Good Guardian, this was a horror.

“Ralph, does this breeder look
familiar to you?”

“Aye, he does, healthier
though…” Claude chuckled.

Matthew eyed them both, calculating
his dagger thrusts as they bantered back and forth. His mind was
already gutting them like the swine they were.

Suddenly, from the other direction,
horses approached. Matthew knew the gait, the cadence of those
horses:

The Band… his brothers.

Matthew straightened as Bracus,
Jack, Jacob, James and Philip came into sight. Their steeds’ sides
heaved, glistening sweat wrapping the horses’ bodies.

Clara
could not believe her eyes;
the
Band.
She
dared to hope.

Bracus
laid his eyes on Matthew, then Clara behind him. What was happening
here? He saw the
fragment,
still with Evelyn and realized the Band’s surprise entrance into the
heart of the
fragment
foothold had been for naught. They had not been there. Having taken
Evelyn, they had then led a hunting party. She had yet to be taken to
their stronghold. Then his eyes touched on Clara again.

What was Clara doing out of the
clan?

Bracus’ heart was hammering so hard
in his chest he thought it may escape. He drunk in the sight of her,
she was beginning to heal from the beating but looked as if she had
traveled hard, her hair falling about her in a riot of burnished
copper, shining in the sun which lit the meadow they found themselves
in. Her eyes widened at the sight of them, scared and trembling, on
the verge of shock.

Bracus shook off the reason as to
why Matthew and Clara found themselves here instead of inside the
safety of the clan. One disaster at a time. And right now, his
priority was Evelyn. He glanced at Matthew, their eyes meeting, an
uncanny understanding flowed between the two. Matthew nodded
acknowledgment of Bracus’ unspoken directive.

Matthew
would protect Clara. The Band would concentrate on the
fragment.

The
Band stood behind Bracus, fluidly dismounting as a single unit. They
had no time to tie the horses down. But then neither did the
fragment
,
who had also dismounted.

Ralph
tied the girl to the reins of the horse, let the hellion try to
escape
.
She had needed quite a spot of discipline for them to come to an
understanding.
She’d
be a fine breeder when she came of age
,
he thought, licking his lips. He looked into her upturned face and
should have known what was coming next as she reared her head back
and spat at him, much of which landed directly in his face.

Rage surged through him and he
backhanded her hard enough that it threw her small body against his
horse, who staggered a step backward, neighing nervously.

Evelyn slid down the horse’s flank,
landing with an indelicate plop beside one of the horse’s hooves, her
ears ringing and bile rising in her stomach.

Bracus
roared at the Band, Evelyn’s abuse untenable. They surged forward,
Bracus in the lead, Philip on the far corner. He would tame the
fragment’s
flank
.

Clara
watched the Band advance, their muscles flexing as they moved against
the
fragment
in an elaborate dance choreographed of violence.
Even
with their superior size, they were yet outnumbered so how would they
prevail?

Ralph met the large one with his
dagger extended swiping forward, slashing a great swath at that broad
chest. Bracus stepped into the swinging metal, meeting it with his
dagger, the sound of clanging weapons lifting the birds from the
trees.

Two
of the
fragment
circled around Philip. Half a head taller than both, he brought his
weapons away from his body, one dagger clockwise, the other counter.
They swung in a semi-circle as one of the
fragment
came
forward.
Claude
,
Clara thought, wondering if he had been the one to lay hands on that
small girl which lay in a crumpled heap at the feet of a horse.

Everywhere Clara looked there were
males entangled with one another. The noise of fists striking flesh,
the meaty sounds of impact underscored by metal which struck,
churning the silence into a clashing frenzy.

Claude
distracted the large male, his eyes trained on the strange gills,
fully open, having a bright pink interior as they assisted…his
breathing. Claude feigned a lunge and another
fragment
grabbed
the breeder from behind, leaping on his back and looping a forearm
around his neck.

This only seemed to enrage him. With
a roar, Philip used the male’s momentum, grabbing the forearm about
his neck, he swung him over the top of his shoulder and launched him
as far as he could, at the same time he felt a deep burning in his
side. He looked down, seeing the hilt of an unfamiliar dagger buried
within him.

Claude,
of the
fragment,
felt an evil smile fill his face. He had him now.

Philip ignored the dagger, leaving
it in place, knowing there would be more blood loss at its removal.
With a war cry he launched himself at Claude, his dagger arcing above
him, the shine off the blade momentarily blinding Claude who
sidestepped Philip.

Philip instinctively anticipated the
avoidance maneuver and curved his body toward his opponent, slashing
at his neck, downward. Then, with a vicious twist, he buried and
turned the blade in one movement. Rolling to the ground the dagger
pierced his side deeper as he landed, the pain turning into a roaring
inferno. He lay on his back slowly turning his head to look at his
opponent, who lay cooperatively bleeding out, his blood spilling like
red water.

Clara
watched the horror unfold before her as two of the
fragment
approached Matthew. Not wishing to distract him, she shrunk against
the trunk of the tree making herself as small a target as possible.
His blades
clenched
in his hands… he prowled toward them, meeting them before they got
closer to where Clara stood.

Matthew
was keenly aware of Clara behind him as the first male of the
fragment
lunged at him and he swung his head to the side as the male’s blade
pushed air against his face and the second male advanced. He did not
turn. Hearing the movement of the second male’s arm, he reflexively
lashed out behind him, punching his dagger in the direction his
senses were tuned to, at the same time thrusting the dagger in his
right hand up and into the underside of the jaw of the first.

Clara
watched blood pour out of one of the males of the
fragment
who were on Matthew’s right side. The male who had been circling to
attack from behind was nursing a slashing wound that had opened an
eight inch gash from collarbone to shoulder, narrowly missing the
tender flesh of the neck.

His eyes caught Clara’s at the same
time that two more of the fragment advanced on Matthew. The male with
the wounded shoulder seemed to shake off the pain, blood running
freely from the sucking hole. He came at Clara, who looked around
frantically for the closest Band. She saw Philip was down and Bracus
was actively working his way to the girl, two fragment were on the
ground and the other Band were sorely outnumbered and fighting what
remained.

No one noticed that Clara was in
desperate trouble.

She whipped her head around for a
weapon. The male, seeing her looking for something, smiled with grim
joy and came nearer.

Clara lost her nerve and fled.

She heard the male come crashing
after her but felt confident that she would be able to escape; his
wound should slow him down.

It
did not
:

She felt strong arms wrap around her
waist and her feet popped off the ground. She fought for her life,
swinging and flailing about, trying to gain time. Time for the Band
to find her.

Finally, she kicked behind and her
foot found his shin. With a grunt her captor’s hold loosened and she
was free. Just as she started to run she was shoved from behind and
only her arms braced her fall . Clara started to scramble away and
was kicked in her side, the air leaving her body, her lungs began to
burn and her eyes watered.

She could see him above her, blood
soaking most of whatever tunic had covered him, no longer pale, but a
bright tomato red. He wasted no time, grabbing the top of her bodice,
he tore it open, the seams giving way with a powerful rip. Clara’s
breath came back in a rush. Finding her voice she screamed,
“Matthew!”

The male jerked her upright by her
hair and she yelped. Dragging her close to him, his sour breath
pouring over her face. “Shut up or I’ll beat you senseless.” His
strange accent drug like grated glass across her eardrums.

It felt like he was tearing her hair
out of her scalp but she laid still as he let her head fall back and
started to undo his breeches.

Clara
could only think of Prince Frederic
.

She was tired to the bone from the
beatings and the attempted rapes. She would die before allowing
herself to be abused ever again.

She
scrambled quickly to her feet with the male’s blood covering her. The
top of her blouse was hanging open where he had torn it, flapping
loosely with her movement. She saw a bleeding and battered Matthew
appear with Bracus, behind the male of the
fragment
who
had not heard their approach.

The
male of the
fragment
would have this female while the others battled, none the wiser.
There were not enough of them in the
fragment
and he liked his females with a bit of fire. This one had spirit, he
thought as he took out his dirk, hidden in a small sheath inside the
waistband of his breeches. Maybe she needs a little encouragement.
Yes,
that was the answer, what female could say
no
to the blade?

Clara was relieved for exactly one
moment before catching sight of a small sword-like dagger that the
male removed with a practiced hand from the waist of his breeches.
She flicked her eyes to first Matthew’s then Bracus’ in warning as
the male lunged for her and she threw herself just out of reach,
stumbling then falling backward down a small slope. As she tumbled,
Clara kept herself as loose as she could, hoping to avoid injury.

Finally, she came to a stop and laid
there on her back, her eyes staring at the dappled light spearing
through the forest. She cautiously wiggled her toes and fingers,
taking stock of her limbs. It felt like everything was still working.
She sat up and saw Bracus and Matthew navigating the small slope to
get to her. Matthew heaved the broken body of the fragment down the
ravine like so much garbage.

Bracus looked grim and Matthew
relieved.

Matthew reached her first and a
moment later, two different hands were extended to help her up. They
glared at each other but Clara took both hands that were offered.
Bracus’ cool and dry, Matthew’s a thing of liquid heat, making her
gasp slightly. She knew that he felt it by the subtle widening of his
eyes.

Bracus’ eyes narrowed on them.

“Let us get back to the others,”
Bracus said.

“
Yes,
Captain,” Matthew said staring intently at Clara as he added, “Why
did you leave my side? I said, ‘
no
matter what occurred’
,
to remain.”

They walked up the hill together.
When it became apparent that Clara was weaker than she wanted to
admit. Matthew scooped her up and packed her the rest of the
distance, walking as if she were weightless. Bracus glaring at
Matthew the entire time.

Cresting the hill, they headed
quickly through the small patch of woods she had fled through,
stepping out of the forest into what was now a small battlefield.
Clara stared at the Band: Jack stood straight and unharmed (Clara
thought briefly of Lillian and relief flowed over her), Jacob and
James both had wounds of little consequence and Philip was sitting up
with a dagger sticking out of his side like an obscene flag. His skin
had a grayish pallor and his breathing was shallow.