Clans of Luteri Ch. 10-11

Hey, Everyone. These are the last two chapters of the first book. If you want me to keep going and post the second book, which takes place in Luteri, let me know in the comments. Hey to greysam and Alansoff. Great to chat with you. Email me anytime-Harp

Clans of Luteri

Chapter 10

Kane grabbed the Corsaire, shaking her shoulder.

"Wake up," he snarled.

He watched Aslin open her eyes. She sat up, confused, looking at him.

"What happened to your face?" she said, sleepy.

"One of us is leaving your bed, Aslin. You must make your choice."

Kane raised his fist, clutching the horrid little violent monster, the vicious cunning fiend, and he thought he could see his blood still staining its small claws.

"I tried, Corsaire," he said grimly. "I have tried with your Alverian ideas of pets and this revolting beast that has attacked me completely unprovoked, but I can no longer endure it. I was sleeping peacefully and woke as it was attacking my face."

"You mean Mica?"

She reached out for the animal, which transformed into a limp thing and made that sound that drove him mad. She pulled it under her chin.

"You are my oath, but the little predator must go," he declared, dabbing.

"But—," she said.

"That little tashveck or me, Aslin," Kane said stubbornly, wiping again at his cheek that was still bleeding. "You do realize it might have taken my eye."

She snorted laughter at this, obviously trying not to, as if such a thing were in any way amusing.

"Your eye," she echoed, handling the demon. "I think that's a little dramatic, Kane, don't you? What's a tashveck?"

"It is a small naked black creature," he sneered, glaring at her, "like a rat but with leathery wings and fangs and claws that lives in caves and it hangs from its feet until it flies silently in a great horde of its fellows and drops its white filth on anything below it."

Her eyes were wide, now holding the tiny horror to her own cheek as if it were a comfort to her. He resisted the urge to snatch it from her.

"The house cat cannot go to Luteri anyway," he lied. "They will not allow vermin on the ship."

They would allow it, he'd asked, but he had no problem delivering the falsehood, none whatsoever.

"This fanged animal is in Luteri?" she asked.

"Oh no, Corsaire. You are not distracting me. I want your answer. That vicious fiend or me."

Kane watched as she took the small animal and held it in front of her, one hand cradling its bottom, the other propping its front. She looked at it all over. She looked at himself with the same care. She looked back to the animal. His mouth dropped open and he choked.

"Are you actually debating the matter, Corsaire?"

"Of course n—."

He threw himself from the bed, jerking off the covers, grabbing his trousers.

"Kane," she said in her reasonable voice.

He didn't answer, his shirt over that, stomping into his boots. He grabbed his cloak. He wrenched open the door, pausing in the doorway, not looking at her, breathing.

"By the time I am back from my walk, it will be here and I will not or the other way around," he said,

resisting the urge to slam the door behind him.

#

When he returned, Jaime and Aslin were in the front hall, having breakfast.

"Kane!" Jaime said, eyeing his cheek, the three long scratches he could still feel burning there.

Jaime's mouth twitching as Kane glared at him.

"I have just been telling Aslin," Jaime said, "that I will require a house cat in the lower stables. She has agreed Mica is to stay with me when you both return to Luteri, and I have made a small home for the animal there where it will be safe and dry and warm and I'm sure very happy."

The man looked at the Corsaire with sympathy, reaching over to pat her hand as if this was difficult for her, as if her heart was sore for it. Kane dropped into the chair opposite her, touching his cheek gingerly.

"In the stables?" Kane complained, looking between them. "With Shaol?"

#

Kane and Jaime looked up as Aslin came into the stables, Shaol greeting her with a great peeling call. Aslin went directly to the warhorse, who offered his head over the stall door. She's put her hands on his nose.

"I'm pleased to see you too, Shaol," she said, generations of Luterian breeding pawing in agreement and moving under her hand to more favored spots, liking his cheek, and the place behind his huge ears, too.

"Would you like me to accompany you today, Corsaire?" Kane said, loosing the bucket he was carrying and setting it down, brushing his hands.

Aslin glanced at him. At breakfast, he and Jaime had been discussing details for Shaol's removal and stabling in the ship. There were so many things to do to get ready for their departure in ten days. She shook her head, smiling at his rather distracted manner.

"I know you are busy," she said. "I'll be back before dinner."

Kane got the white mare she rode, Shaol's ears up in interest, and saddled her. He helped her onto the horse, though he must know she didn't need it. His hand lingered at her waist.

"Don't run her in the field north of the estate, it is rocky and the mare wouldn't necessarily see until she was on top of the stones."

"Yes, so you've said, and not to go into the meadow because it rained and there might be holes," she replied, smiling. "I'll stay on the path. I'm going south like I do every day, Kane, following the ridge."

He reached up, the back of his fingers on her cheek.

"When you smile like that I want to kiss you."

She felt her smile get wider.

"Don't you like me when I frown?"

"Then, too," he said.

He stepped back.

"Have a good ride, Corsaire," he said.

Aslin went at a fast walk, veering the mare south. Kane was so busy with preparations, gifts he had gotten for his family in Luteri that needed to be packed carefully, an inventory and his ledger he was always entering figures into, and correspondence and dozens of details that occupied him. There wasn't much she could do to help, but she didn't complain. When he could tear himself away, Kane gave her his full attention.

But she had grown tired of reading in the library, tired of being inside, and she needed to get out, to move around. Summer was coming, always a restless time for her. Kane understood, also being Luterian. So she had taken to riding in late afternoon.

She was alternately letting the horse walk and urging her into a slow canter when it was safe to do so. Aslin turned her head once, movement in the corner of her vision, but there was only the tree line, the ridge that she always skirted, the path clear under her leading into the trees. The mare was surprisingly tense under her, skittish. They entered the trees, almost to the place she would turn around. She was always back before dusk.

She imagined the ship would be confining, twelve weeks to get to Minsk, Luteri's port city. Jaime told her the actual passage wouldn't take anywhere near that time if they went straight to Luteri, but there were too few visitors for Luteri to be its main objective. The ship would stop at various ports, taking on passengers, dropping passengers off, and getting supplies.

Besides smaller ports that would be only one or two days delay, the ship would stop in Bashrac for six days, which was exciting. She had read about it and Kane had already been there, telling her all about the bazaars, the bright clothing, the great umbrellas that dotted the sharp hillsides with white clay walls.

And then there was to be a week in Malana, the water so clear, Jaime told her, that you could watch the fish from the side of the ship, see their bright colors as they swam. And Pushta, which was forested and had monkeys and parrots—Kane had found pictures for her in Jaime's library—and you had to be careful

not to offend the Pushtans, he said, by looking at them for too long, they didn't do that and didn't like it when others did so. They would stay the longest there, nine days.

And then they would finally reach Minsk, the port at Luteri, and when the ship docked at the harbor they would disembark. From there it would be a three-day ride inland to the Tavishi Hold. If they went straight to Tavishi Hold it would only be two days, Kane had said, but they would have to skirt Corsaire territory.

She felt the familiar flutter of nervousness thinking about her father, about Corsaire, about Kane's clan—.

The mare startling and rushed sideways in a way Aslin couldn't compensate for, rearing on her hind legs. She cried out. Aslin felt herself falling off, and she had the distracted thought Kane would be upset when he learned about it, curling up and landing on her side, the ground there before she knew it. She stayed there, winded, and then there was a form over her and a cloth on her face, a terrible smell and blackness took her.

#

Kane looked up.

He slowly straightened and turned, staring down to the drive framed by the stable doors. He replaced the piece of leather he had been cleaning, tackle he was going through, packing what Shaol wouldn't need until they arrived in Luteri. He walked from the stables to a place in front of the mansion. It was the beginning of early dusk in the hills. Aslin would be returning soon.

He felt uneasy.

He strained his eyes down the drive as he heard the front door open and close and Jaime joined him, looking in the same direction. Kane didn't look at him. Something was wrong.

"Are you well, Kane? You look tense. I'm sure Aslin is on her way back—," Jaime began.

Kane saw the white mare coming across the field from the southwest, saw the empty saddle and was in motion, Jaime calling after him as he saddled Shaol without thinking about what he was doing. He didn't hear Jaime's words. He whistled as he threw himself into the saddle, Shaol moving before he found his seat, the horse's hooves pounding under him as he took the drive and guided the fast horse southwest.

He followed the mare's tracks, still fresh in the rapidly fading light, following the ridge as she said she would, sometimes walking, sometimes cantering. He knew her preferred path but he didn't want to miss anything. He was leaning to the side, his eyes fixed on what he could see.

Alverian horses could spook, being unintelligent animals. She might have fallen and twisted her ankle, maybe, and was limping back. The mare wouldn't necessarily even return to her rider. They were not well trained. Kane turned Shaol in a tight circle when he saw the disturbed dirt, throwing himself off. Something had happened here. He dropped the reins, walking around the area, squatting, studying it.

He saw it. Tracks. A man's boots.

Kane froze, his eyes on the print, then on the ground, seeing that the mare had thrown her. Something had spooked the animal, yes, but it wasn't an accident. The man had come from the trees, had encouraged the fall. Kane saw where she had landed, on her side. Her tracks didn't lead from there. Only the man's tracks, deeper.

Carrying her.

Kane went very still, staring at the tracks but into nothing. A full minute passed, although he didn't notice it. He finally turned his head and looked at Shaol for a long moment, not seeing him.

Shaol froze. The horse tossed his head and shied away from him, dancing, the animal's coat going dark with sweat, trembling, only his training keeping the warhorse from bolting. Shaol mustn't run, and Kane was barely aware of giving a low warbling whistle that told the horse to shelter, not to run, to stay still, not to draw his attention.

The horse backed away from him at the command, the whites of his eyes showing. Kane watched closely without really seeing him, his eyes alert to any movement right now. Shaol moved under the trees

behind him, backing up more until he was a dark shadow in deeper shadows, going very still. Kane got up and moved deeper into the trees ahead of him.

There was a long silence and then a brief explosion of sound. A tree shook and swayed. A flock of blackbirds burst into the air all around above the trees, straight up, their panicked calls echoing in the gentle hills.

Jaime, at the estate on the front steps, watching the drive for Kane to return, saw the tiny black birds rise in the distance southwest, not hearing their calls, his eyes tracing their flight south, worrying.

Under the trees, something moved. Shaol shook and sweated, the horse's teeth bared, his mouth open, panting, his head down. Hot urine splashed down the stallion's leg and onto the ground.

#

Aslin coughed. Her shoulders hurt. Her head was hanging, her legs limp, her hair down and around her face. She raised her head, trying to see. There was only a wall in front of her, dim in the light, the flicker of flame, a fire in a pit to her left. As the light danced along the craggy walls, she realized it was a cave.

She was in the back of a cave.

She was in a cave and her hands were tied with rope above her, each attached to an iron ring inset into the cave ceiling, her arms out at a diagonal. She straightened her legs, getting her feet under her and jerking on her wrists. She couldn't move her feet. She looked down, her ankles with rope attached to iron rings there as well. Fear blossomed into all her limbs. She was spread-eagled, her hips offset back from her arms, and she was naked.

"You're awake, Emma," a voice said behind her.

She screamed briefly, a poor sound, failing. A man's footsteps coming closer, boots on stone.

"I do hope you can do better than that," the voice said, amused. "Imagine my surprise as I was riding on Lord Montrose's estate about a month ago to see the very woman who has so occupied my thoughts since the party at which she was sold to a Luterian barbarian."

Lord Montrose. When Kane had purchased her. The other buyers. The room, the scarlet red dress. Aslin's mind raced over details that were important, details that weren't.

"I hadn't realized," the voice continued behind her, "that I'd come so close to the border between the estates. And for the last week you have ridden the same trail at the same time, every day. It was just too much of a temptation, you understand?"

The footsteps came closer. She flinched, breathing very fast.

"Do you like the cave? It's not very warm, I apologize for that. Lord Montrose maintains it, with all its lovely details, for special occasions and guests with more dramatic tastes."

The man abruptly came into her view as she let out a startled cry, dark-haired, an intense face, dark circles under glittering eyes, sharp features and a heavy, square jaw.

"Don't you recognize me, Emma? But then again I was masked. I forgive you. I don't imagine you will talk much until the begging starts, but when you do, you will call me master."

Not the gray-haired man, not his friend. The other one. The one who had grabbed her wrist. He raised his hand casually and smacked her breast hard, and then the other. She cried out and struggled and he laughed, stepping away from her.

"I wish you could see how well Lord Montrose stocks this cave. I would show you, but I like you where you are."

She heard the clanking of metal behind her and she cringed in the bonds, the fear hot in her belly.

"Ah. Here is the usual assortment—whips and quirts and crops and straps and the like. I'd say they would be familiar to you, but you are completely unscarred. I know. I checked when I undressed you. Nothing but that little birthmark on your neck."

She shuddered, the thought of this man handling her making her skin crawl. Her thoughts were coming together and then scattering. She knew she was panicking, knew she should try to do something, but she couldn't think.

"Sometimes—not very often—Lord Montrose finds a woman who just doesn't work out, for whatever reason. Stubborn, maybe, or violent. Untrainable, you understand?"

More clanking, something heavy.

"Here we are. Let's just put this in the fire to heat."

The man walked and put the end of a long iron in the fire, resting the other end carefully on the edge of the pit.

"That," the man told her, "is a branding iron. It has my initials on it. I do like to personalize my playthings."

He walked back behind her, more sounds of things shifting.

"And here are more lovely things you will soon know all about. Of course, Lord Montrose can't release these troublesome women out into the world, can he? With what they've seen? That would be stupid of him, and Lord Montrose is many things, but he is not stupid."

He came directly behind her. She shuddered, realizing she was crying, had been crying, her face twisted in terror.

"I want you to know that it wasn't that I didn't want to bid on you more actively, Emma, or that I couldn't have afforded you. It's just that my playthings don't last as long."

A hand ran from her shoulder to her waist, the fingers cold. She jerked and moved away from him, revolted, a sob escaping her.

"I know. My hands never seem to warm, you are not the first to notice. Such a pretty unmarked back. So few I am given are untouched in this way. A beautifully blank canvas, and such skin you have, such a beautiful tone with that dark hair. I'm surprised the barbarian has not enjoyed you fully. Will he care when you disappear? Or will he just move on and find another whore?"

His hand moved from her waist to her butt, rounding her cheek, cupping her.

"Well, as I was saying, I have to be sensible with my purchases because they don't last as long. A day, maybe two. I try not to indulge too often. I know I am rough on my lovers. My tastes have made it difficult for me to reach release until certain requirements are met."

He stepped away from her.

"Lord Montrose and I have an agreement, mutually beneficial. He gives these women to me, and I make sure they are never seen again. It's a nasty business, but I am as I was made by the One, and I will have my pleasure."

He walked and looked in the fire, bringing a glove with him that he pulled onto his hand, squatting and pulling out the iron and looking at the end. He held it for her to look at the initials, CR, and then replaced it, removing the glove.

"Not quite ready yet, Emma," he said. "We will wait until it's glowing red."

He walked closer to her.

"Shall I tell you what I'm going to do those pretty breasts, those pink nipples? Or should I let it be a surprise?" he debated with himself and then cocked his head at her, friendly, excited. "Yes, I think we will begin there while the iron heats. I've often thought of your breasts, Emma, since that night. You've been in my thoughts so much."

She shuddered and looked away.

"Wait right here," he said. "I'm so eager to get started. I'll explain everything I'm going to do before I do it."

He went behind her again. She listened to the sound of the metal, not even able to cry anymore or cry out or make a sound, her breath lodged in her throat, the horror wiping out everything in her mind, knowing there was no escape—.

There was a sound and at first she thought it was the man behind her. She heard a sharp clank, something dropping onto the table. But then it came again and more terror blossomed through her belly. Her throat unlocked and she gave a trembling cry.

Something answered. The sound came again, outside the cave behind her, not far. It didn't sound human, not even close. A massive sound, hurting her ears, savage snarling ripped through the space, not inside yet, making her shake so hard she swayed between the ropes.

She heard the Alverian lord curse and then his footsteps receding and there was nothing, and nothing, her whole body locked. She tried to control her loud breathing as the silence went on and then the whole space exploded with sound from outside the cave, not far, not far enough at all, a man's voice screaming in terror, a horrifying sound.