The warriors gift, p.1
The Warriors Gift, page 1
The Warrior’s Gift
www.loose-id.netThe Warrior’s Gift
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by
Loose Id LLC
1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924
Carson City NV 89701-1215
www.loose-id.com
Copyright © May 2007 by
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.
ISBN 978-1-59632-464-0
Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader
Printed in the United States of America
Editor: Barbara Marshall
Cover Artist: Christine M. Griffin
Dedication
To all my loyal readers, thank you for you time and attention. I hope I’ve given you some satisfying journeys to other times and places.
Chapter One
“Just because it’s tradition doesn’t make it right, Mother.” Katya dared to say what she had been thinking for a long time. There was no reason to hold back now since she might not live to see another day. “Not for us and not for them.” She gestured out the window toward the high wall of the compound looming on the hill a league away. The sun rose from the other side of the hill, clearing the peaks of the buildings before it shone into her room. She’d looked at those foreboding gray walls and wondered about the men who lived inside it almost every morning of her life.
“It’s unnatural breeding men for nothing except fighting and killing.” Katya turned from her bedroom window and faced her mother, Pellina. “And it’s wrong for us to depend on them.”
“It is the way. The Warriors are all that has kept the people of Geveldon safe and living without fear of invasion for almost a hundred years.” Pellina flitted around Katya, straightening her daughter’s simple white linen shift, fussing with her long, loose, flowing hair, and arranging artful ringlets down the sides of her pale face. “It’s a terrible price we pay, but also a great honor to be chosen as a bride.” 2
Katya slapped her mother’s hands away and tucked the auburn curls behind her ears. “Yes, it’s a terrible price, but ‘we’ don’t pay it. The young women do. And we aren’t brides but chattel, used and discarded by the Warriors like rag dolls.” Tears pricked her eyes as she grabbed her mother’s hand and looked into her face. “This is me, Mama, your own daughter! Do I mean nothing to you? How can you permit this to happen? How can you let them take me?”
Her mother’s bottom lip trembled, and tears welled in her eyes. “Of course I care. I’ll miss you terribly, but there is no choice. You must look on what you are about to do as a sacrifice for your people, for their protection and well-being. The Guardians of the Warriors are respected holy men. They know what is best for all of us.”
“But this is my life, my future. No one should have a right to decide it for me.” Katya’s control broke and she dissolved into tears.
Her mother enveloped her in a warm embrace, stroking her back and crooning comforting words, while Katya sobbed out her fear of the unknown future awaiting her. In a few short hours, she would be given to the Warrior who had most distinguished himself in the last battle against the invading forces of the Revocs. The fierce mountain-dwellers occasionally swooped down on the valley lands below, although no village had actually been attacked by Revocs in years. The invaders were always intercepted by the Warriors before they could reach their destination.
Katya would become a sexual plaything for the Warrior, a man whose sole purpose in life was to destroy. Maidens were periodically chosen from the villages as tribute to their protectors, and once they disappeared into the mysterious compound, they were never seen again.
It was said the Warriors were little more than beasts with no knowledge of the world and little capacity for speech. The Guardians took them from their parents as children, another “honor” for those families chosen. They were raised in an almost monastic life in the gloomy settlement on the hill, but their religion was killing. They were taught a warrior’s 3
skills and nothing else. Isolated not only from the outside world, but also from each other, the Warriors were kept in cells. Their only socialization or outlet was through combative play. Although well-fed and housed, they were not offered any diversion. Sexual release was rarely provided. Instead they were taught to sublimate all their desires into bloodlust. At least those were the rumors.
Various villagers claimed to know someone who had spoken with one of the Guardians, the elite enclave who raised and trained the Warriors. But despite the stories, no one really knew the truth of what went on inside the fortress.
Katya pushed away from her mother, dashing her hand angrily over her eyes. “Say what you will, Mama. This is not right. We tithe a quarter of our crops and goods to the Guardians and give our sons and daughters when required. Yes, the Warriors protect our lands from invaders, but the price is too high. Our freedom is sacrificed for our safety.”
She whirled away from her mother and strode toward the window, staring once more at the ominous, dark walls on the hill. “I will comply; I’ll give myself to this beast for the sake of our family’s honor and our people’s protection, but I’ll never believe it is right.”
Inside she added, And I won’t submit to him without a fight.
* * * * *
As the sun waned toward late afternoon, the villagers turned out for the bridal procession, smiling and calling out congratulations as if it were an actual celebration. The false cheer in their voices and the fake smiles on their faces disgusted Katya. She knew that a few of them had lost their own children to the Guardians.
Katya followed the flower-strewn path leading away from the village. The closer she drew to the forbidding stone wall of the fortress, the more her heart raced. The procession of villagers stopped following Katya and her parents when they came within a hundred yards of the massive oak doors. The congratulatory cries died away, and the people watched in reverent silence as the door in the wall swung slowly open. 4
A Guardian in scarlet ceremonial robes walked out. He was tall and clean-shaven, including his scalp. He approached Katya, who stood trembling between her mother and father. Looking down at her with expressionless, pale blue eyes, he said, “Young woman, you have the honor of being chosen to serve your people as a Warrior’s bride.” He raised his voice and gazed at the crowd behind her. “Tell all assembled here that you enter this union of your own free will.”
Katya’s jaw clenched. Words of denial trembled on her tongue, but one glance at her mother and father’s anguished faces stopped them. Their life would be unbearable if they had to live with the shame of their daughter resisting -- and it would do no good anyway. The young women chosen always disappeared into the compound one way or another.
Despite her heart clamoring against her breastbone like a bird trapped in a cage, Katya answered as required. “I do.” There was nothing else to reply. She knew the penalty for refusal. When she was a little girl, she’d seen what had happened to the family of a maiden who’d tried to run away. The family was not simply ostracized. In the dead of night they were driven from the community with pitchforks and flaming brands, their lands and possessions seized.
Katya hugged her parents fiercely and kissed them goodbye. Then, clenching her jaw even tighter to keep from weeping, she stepped forward.
The Guardian took her by the arm and led her through the opening in the dark wall she had looked at every morning of her life. The heavy doors closed behind her with a resounding thud, sealing her into her future. 5
Chapter Two
Katya walked silently beside the Guardian, who offered no words of encouragement. Her legs were trembling so fiercely, she could scarcely keep on her feet, and her heart pounded in her ears. She gazed at the slate-gray buildings on either side of her that she assumed were barracks to house the Warriors. There were small, high windows at intervals along the walls. The path went between two tall buildings like a corridor, giving the feeling of being indoors, even though a slice of blue sky arched overhead.
The sounds of clashing swords and shouting men came from up ahead. As Katya and her escort rounded the corner of the building, a wide open courtyard central to all the buildings came into view. Pairs of men were engaged in mock combat. Huge, hulking brutes with arms and legs the size of tree trunks thrust, parried, and hacked away at each other, wearing only light leather padding to protect them from the blows.
Katya wasn’t certain they were simply practicing until one man sliced another’s arm open and blood gushed onto the iron-stained paving stones of the exercise yard. A whistle blew, and the fighting stopped instantly. Weapons descended and sword points rested on the ground as the Warriors waited meekly with their heads bowed while a red-robed Guardian 6
came and bound the injured man’s arm before ushering him off the field. When the whistle blew again, the fighting continued as though it had never been interrupted.
“In here,” her escort snapped.
Katya reluctantly turned away from watching t
“Go on.” The Guardian’s pale eyes narrowed. He grabbed her arm and thrust her through the doorway.
Her bare feet were cold on the stone floor, and blood raced hot inside her body. The hallway was dimly lit with rows of doors leading off from either side of it. Katya wondered how many were occupied right now and how many Warriors were out in the practice yards. She wondered if they would even hear her if she screamed. She certainly knew no one would come to save her.
The corridor seemed to stretch out before them forever and then the Guardian stopped before a door.
Katya’s terror intensified. She curled her fingers and squeezed her hands so tightly her nails bit into her palms. Letting out a shaky breath, she renewed her promise to herself not to submit without leaving lasting scars on the man. Her nails were sharp, and her will was strong.
The Guardian’s grip on her elbow abruptly tightened. Swinging her to face him, he pressed her up against the wall beside the door. “Before I throw you to the beast, it will do 7
no harm to take a little taste for myself.” His translucent eyes were no longer expressionless, but dilated dark with lust as he leaned down to cover her mouth with his.
She clamped her lips tight against the unexpected assault and fought his grip on her wrists. Pressing a hand against his chest, Katya pushed with all her might.
He clutched her breast through the loose fabric of her shift and squeezed. When Katya gasped, he slid his tongue into her mouth. One of his legs thrust between hers, and he pressed his erection into her crotch, grinding it against her.
Katya squirmed and twisted in his embrace, too shocked to even be frightened, and when she couldn’t break free, she bit down on his tongue ... hard.
The Guardian pulled away, howling in pain. He let go of her, clapping his hands to his lips, then spitting a mouthful of blood on the floor. He glared at Katya and slapped her across the jaw, knocking her head against the wall.
The blow vibrated through her skull. Sharp pain radiated from her cheek and from the side of her head where it had struck the stone. She curled her arms up, covering as much of her body and face as she could in anticipation of another blow.
But the Guardian simply seized her shoulder and pulled her roughly away from the wall. “Never mind. I’ll have my use of you later.” He laughed harshly. “If you’re still alive by the time he’s finished with you.”
Katya trembled with rage, fear, and shock as he slid back a sturdy deadbolt on the doorjamb and opened the latch. He took her arm again and thrust her through the open door, calling out, “Here is your gift. Try not to break her.”
The door slammed shut behind her, and she heard the deadbolt slide into place. She hadn’t thought it possible for her pulse to race any faster, but now feared she might pass out as blood roared in her ears and black spots blurred her vision. Katya swayed on her feet, blinking, trying to focus in the dim light. She peered around for the hulking brute she knew waited within the shadows somewhere. 8
The room was tiny and spare, but clean. There was an iron cot, neatly made up, a washstand, a few clothes hung on hooks along one wall, and a chair placed in a corner. Filling the chair with his massive frame was the Warrior, her intended “groom.” He’d been filing the edge of a long knife, but his hands stilled and his gaze lifted to regard Katya as the door shut. The man stared at her with intense, unfathomable eyes, so dark they appeared black. They glittered in the light of the oil lamp on the wall. His black eyebrows drew together in a frown, shadowing his deep-set eyes further.
The hair flowing past his shoulders was also black, but with coppery highlights where the light struck it. He had prominent cheekbones, an angular jaw and chin, and a sharp blade of a nose. His full-lipped mouth softened and balanced the hard masculinity of his face. His lips parted slightly as he continued to watch her with his deep, searching eyes.
The Warrior rose from the chair, the knife dangling at his side. He was a giant, and his overwhelming presence filled the room.
It was like being caged with a wild beast. Could he even understand her if she spoke? She offered a weak smile and said slowly and clearly, “My name is Katya.”
He stared at her so blankly her doubts about his ability to comprehend increased. The sleeveless tunic he wore stretched across broad shoulders, revealing massive biceps. His chest strained against the gray cotton. Below the loose-fitting shirt, a pair of black pants encased his long legs, and beneath them his feet were bare.
“I am to be your bride.” At the word “bride,” a memory of her friend’s wedding the previous fall flashed in Katya’s mind. She remembered the joy and music and flowers that had marked Greta’s wedding day and contrasted it with this horrible, twisted marriage. “What is your name?”
He gazed at her for long, hushed moments before speaking, his voice hoarse and halting as though rarely used. “I am Turan.” He fell silent again, studying her from head to toe. 9
Countless seconds passed. Katya thought she would go mad from suspense. If he was going to assault her, then let it begin. She was ready to fight him. Her blood raced, and her fists clenched by her sides. “What do you want me to do?” she finally burst out in exasperation. She couldn’t stand her fear of the unknown another moment.
He shook his head, his brows knit in a frown.
“Should I stand here or sit on the bed? What?” Katya’s fear was overshadowed by anger. She had been afraid all day and was tired of it.
He took a step toward her, then stopped. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” she snapped, raising her eyebrows. The hard-muscled, rock of a man approaching her made her want to break, run for the door, and pound on it until her fists bled, but she held her chin up and faced him. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know what I am to do with you. They didn’t tell me.” His voice was quiet, but vibrated in the stillness of the room, as rumbling and warm as a cat’s purr -- a very, very large cat.
Katya stared into his obsidian eyes under anxiously knit brows and realized he wasn’t about to attack her and throw her down. “You don’t know what a man and woman do together?”
Turan shook his head.
Katya looked down at his crotch. She saw from the bulge beneath his pants that his body knew what to do even if he didn’t. She bit her lip and thought quickly. It was possible to buy some time and maybe even escape the situation if she was lucky. “Men and women ... talk,” she told him. “You sit in the chair. I’ll sit over here on the bed, and we can talk for awhile.”
The frown smoothed from his forehead. Turan sat down and watched her expectantly. With his eyes wide and curious, he looked much younger and less frightening, an innocent giant. 10
Katya perched on the edge of his bed, her hands twisting nervously in the skirt of her gown. “So ... what do you do here all day?”
“Fight.”
Katya pictured the engagements she’d seen in the exercise yard. “All day?”
“I eat.” He paused, then added, “And exercise.”
“When you’re alone in your room how do you fill your time?”
He lifted the knife he’d been sharpening when she arrived.
“You care for your weapons. That’s all? Do you have no other chores? No entertainments like storytelling, music, or card games to pass the time?”
He shook his head, and from his slight frown, she guessed he wasn’t even sure what all those words meant.
She smoothed a wrinkle out of the bedcover with her hand. “Do you talk with the other warriors?”
