Daughter of Ziva Ch. 02

Hi All! I saw the last chapter was kind of a formatting nightmare, and I'm really sorry about that. I've put in an edit request so we'll see how that goes. I'm going to try to make it so that doesn't happen again, but I'm still figuring out how publishing on this site works. I appreciate your patience getting through that last chapter if you're here.

Also, just so you're aware, I use Canadian variations of spelling. ie. Neighbour rather than neighbor

I love criticism, so please shoot away.

xx

Rorik guided his horse into camp, the young woman leaning against his chest and Yasim on the horse behind him. He had tied the horses together, knowing his knots holding the older woman would keep her down if she woke. Rorik had kept the ties on the younger one, knowing if she woke she wouldn't hesitate to cause trouble. Her legs were over his thighs and her back against his arm, her head resting in the crook of his neck. He hadn't anticipated whatever injury that had her on the ground gasping would be bad enough to have her faint. Especially since her resistance had been so fiery.

The men in the camp slowed their work to stare at Rorik, or rather his captives. As he picked his way through the camp, the men looked at him as if he had conquered a God while he was gone. Hell if he didn't feel like it. Though he didn't know if they were Daughters of Ziva, trotting into camp was two more chances they had at survival, and much more just within their grasp.

"Your tent, Voivode," a man named Arthur motioned. He was one of the volunteers from the clan and seemed at a loss on what he was supposed to be doing. Rorik nodded at the man and veered towards his tent. He stopped the two horses and slid off, cradling the young woman to his chest.

The men formed a small circle around him, having abandoned their work altogether. Rorik met each man's eye as he passed them to enter his tent to place the woman on his furs. When he emerged out of the tent Rorik met each pair of eyes again, making sure the implications of his action was clear. He saw flashes of annoyance between the eyes of the curious and the hopeful, but none of them spoke up. He none too casually diverted their attention.

"Men," Rorik projected, "We do not know if they bleed, but we know there is an entire village fleeing us. Boris and Alexander," he motioned to his best rider and second-best tracker, "Take the horses, you will find them within the day. Once you have found them, one of you will come back to report where they are."

The two men jumped into action.

"Don't let them see you."

"Yes Voivode," they chorused.

The rest of the men looked antsy, waiting to get their orders. "The rest of us will prepare for our journey back for now. Repair the ship, gather as much food as possible, and boil water. Soon, we return to our people, and hopefully, it's with women made to take our seed."

The men didn't cheer, but the hope in the air was enough to make them giddy. Rorik turned to the horse with Yasim draped over it and threw the woman over his shoulder, hoping to wake her. The men deserved to see a live one. She flopped gracelessly over her shoulder, but in the end stayed unconscious.

He walked across camp to the only other tent that had been set up so far. He drew the flap, seeing Nikolai on one of the three beds, Casmir and Sergei hovering over him. Rorik put the woman down on the other bed, joining Casmir. Sergei had bloodied rags beside him with an equally bloody arrow on top of them.

Sergei spared him a glance as he held a cloth on Nikolai's neck. "He seems to have been lucky. It missed just about everything important. Missed his trachea and esophagus, just went into his chest muscles. He's going to have a hard time lifting that sword for a bit if he lives."

"If he lives?" Rorik asked.

"He's lost a lot of blood," Sergei answered. He threw his head towards Yasim. "Who is that?"

"Yasim," Rorik answered.

"She appeared to be leading our ambush party," Casmir added quickly, knowing what effect the news would have.

Sergei looked up at them in surprise.

"Yeah, I know," Rorik smirked.

Sergei shook his head and turned back to Nikolai. "Bandits?"

"I don't think so," Casmir said, crossing his arms. "It would be incredibly coincidental if six bandits decided to inhabit a village that had just been occupied hours earlier." A smile crossed his face. "Besides, she tried to interrogate us when we arrived. Asked us what our intentions were."

Sergei kept shaking his head. "Brave, but very stupid."

"We need her in good health, no matter how dense she may be," Rorik said. "I hit her once in the side of the head, Sergei. Don't take off her binds."

"Yes, Voivode," Sergei said, bowing his head.

Rorik looked at Casmir. "There are men out there that are unsure of their orders." As Rorik's Second, he was in charge of putting Rorik's orders to fruition. "I told them to prepare to the ship for departure, but some of them may need more guidance."

Casmir nodded, his lips twisting into a deeper grimace. "I apologize, Voivode. I'll sort it out."

Rorik clapped a hand on Casmir's shoulder, knowing the man was worried about his friend. Casmir had been his Second for over 3 years now and had become fast friends with Nikolai, their best tracker. Both of them had been near invaluable on the journey here. Nikolai had, out of boredom, acted as another Second, his tracking skills all but worthless on the water. Rorik knew Nikolai was going to be furious he had been put out of commision on the first day they truly needed him, by a woman no less.

As Rorik turned and pushed the tent flap aside, he spoke over his shoulder. "Sergei, come to my tent when you're done. I have another one I need you to look at."

He made his way through the camp, crossing straight to his tent. The girl was still out when he entered. She was on her side, her hands still tied at her back. He kneeled beside her, evaluating his prize.

Her hair was such a dark brown it hinted at black. It was only when the sunlight had touched it that he had seen lighter shades. Her eyebrows were thick but defined, her lips small but full, and her body sinewy and strong. He had felt her muscles as he had pushed his shin into her thighs. Her small frame had taken much more weight than he had thought she would need.

The amount of discipline he had needed to mite out for her to stay still was surprising, and her reaction to that discipline... Rorik had not planned on sequestering a woman for himself once they had landed but when he had felt her soaked through pants it had become unquestionable. He would find time for her in between preparing the ship and finding the other women.

Rorik had women back home who enjoyed submitting, but it wasn't until now that he recognized it wasn't the submission he wanted. The reality was they had already submitted. Those women grew up knowing they served the men around them and accepted their role, as they had no other choice. Even the few Daughters of Ziva Rorik had taken from the clans he had conquered grew up in places that gave them very few rights, leading them to submit to the Gavali's whims without much struggle. This girl had been fighting for her life, and as he had pinned her down and took all the choice away from her, her body had smouldered beneath him. She had been denying it, but he would be there to force her to accept what he knew she craved.

That would take some time and planning. She hadn't exactly come easy. Hell, she had even struck him. It had been a long while since anyone had hit him, and the first time his cock had grown hard because of it. He stirred just thinking about it. The monster inside him shifted, seeing a real chance to exert itself with her.

He wondered what these women had been up to in the generations since their escape that led to a woman like this. He admitted to himself he hadn't been expecting women freely wielding weapons, but it made sense. Thirteen women disappearing with only a few men to aid them left those women no choice but to learn to defend themselves. This woman in front of him had a lot of freedoms given to her out of necessity, but no more.

With his continued perusal, his eyes landed on her breeches. The use of pants on women was not something he was accustomed to, but the way the dark beige material sat on her shape made him harden further. She was not as shapely as the women he had back home, but obviously, his cock wasn't minding the difference.

The thought of waking her up crossed his mind, but her skin had a pallor that reminded him she was injured.

She had groaned when he had turned her onto her stomach, so he started there. He took her thin grey shirt and rolled it up. He breathed through his nose and clenched his jaw.

Fuck.

He knew what a horse kick looked like, and this was definitely one. No wonder she had been gasping on the ground, and why she had passed out when he had thrown her on the horse. The fact that it was on her midriff annoyed him. Rorik wanted to be deep inside her as soon as possible, but the amount of pain the sex would cause her would not wise, especially with the injury being so close to her womb. If there would be pain, he needed to know she would still be useful afterwards. Frowning, he decided he would have to wait to take her, knowing there were other things he could do to continue his domination of her.

Rorik untied her hands, his head exploding with the possibilities of what he could do. Rearranging her arms in front of her, he re-tied her hands with intricate knots as he turned her back on to her side. A horse kick hadn't stopped her from trying to stab him.

xxx

Sienna was crouched in front of the wooden shelf that held all of her life's memories. She was doing her best to choose which one would have a physical token for the rest of her life when she heard voices in the next room.

"Mother," Her mother had pleaded, "She has to come with us."

"I want her to come, but she will refuse. She has already volunteered." Grandma's voice was quiet and shaky.

"She bleeds, Mama." Mother only called her Mama when she really needed Grandma to listen to her. Sienna did the same to her Mother. It was quiet for a few moments before Mother said, "She won't refuse if you tell her."

"And rid her of her choice to defend herself? To defend us? That is why I left, Lillian. So that my babies could make choices like that."

"Mama! If they catch her, she will have no choices anyways-"

"And who am I to take her last one from her?" Her Mother was stunned into silence. There was shuffling. Her Grandmother's voice was almost a whisper now. "No matter how far we run, they will catch us eventually. The water we had as a shield is gone." A sniff. Was Grandma crying? "I just pray you can forgive me for not throwing you overboard and saving you from what comes. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

xxx

Sienna woke with a gasp and immediately groaned. It was dark. Her whole body throbbed, especially her stomach. Breathing hurt.

It took her a moment to orient herself, but she quickly remembered what had happened. The horse. Voivode.

Her hands were tied in front of her now and she was laying on furs of some sort. Her feet weren't tied. She moved her feet to the side, gritting through the pain until one of her feet stopped suddenly. The knot around her ankle tightened. She blinked a couple of times to clear her eyes and saw her foot was tied to some sort of stake in the ground. She huffed, the immense pain drowning out her frustration.

She barely twitched her muscles with the intent of sitting up and was left wheezing. She laid still until the anguish in her stomach and back faded enough for her to think. Only moving her eyes, she gathered she was in a tent. This clearly wasn't a tent someone would travel with, it was too big. Was she at the base of the Gavali? Already? How long had she been out?

Sienna knew she hurt too much to have been out for the amount of time it would take to cross the water, even though she wasn't quite sure how long that journey took. Her Grandma told it as if she had been on the water for longer than a year. So that meant this was a tent meant for travelling. The generous size and setup made it clear it was not meant to be set up and taken down quickly. This would be their base while they hunted her people.

A potent mix of fear and rage gathered in her chest. She wanted to kill. How dare they think her people were just things to be owned and discarded? Her breaths came quicker, hurting her chest. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, tears cropping up in her eyes.

You can't move, forget kill. What are you going to do?

It took more breaths than she could count to accept that her only objective was to survive. More tears flowed and she allowed herself to feel the hopelessness of her situation. When she felt sobs coming she scrunched her face until she had calmed down. A few tears now and then was okay, good for the soul Grandma would say, but there would be no sobbing. That helped nothing.

Sienna studied her surroundings again, trying to collect information. A fire a couple strides away from the tent allowed some light to pierce the tent canvas. This light gave her eyes the chance to gather the outlines of the effects surrounding her. A box of sorts sat in the corner of the tent near her head, but it was too dark to figure out what was bundled on top of it. A tall dish sat on top of three tall stakes in the corner opposite the box. There was no moving shadows and barely any noise outside, leading her to believe it was late at night, possibly early morning. Even if she had only been out long enough for the sun to sink, a lot could have happened.

Was Yasim okay? Hell, was she okay? Sienna took a toll of her body, taking note of the throbbing ache in her stomach and back. That's from the horse. Her knees felt hot and agitated. That's from falling through the roof. Her shoulders felt like she had dislocated them. Probably from him trying to pull my arms off. Her eyes were itchy as her tears dried up. She brought her hands up and wiped her eyes and nose with her thumbs.

The dream she had came into focus. It had been the conversation she had overheard before her Mother and Grandmother fled with the rest of her people. "She bleeds, Mama."

The words left Sienna confused. Everyone bleeds. Perhaps her mother had been talking about her monthly? But just about every woman in their village bled too. The affliction had passed over about five women since the 13 women and the sailors had created the village, so Sienna didn't view her monthlies as anything special. Those women didn't have children, but that just freed up their time for creating things and taking care of children when the mothers wanted a break. If anything Sienna was a bit envious of the carefree lifestyle they lived.

Voivode had asked Yasim if she bled as well. Was that what these men were looking for? Women who bled? Things slowly clicked together in Sienna's head. If that was so, it could mean that to these men, if a woman bled and therefore was able to give birth, she was a Daughter of Ziva. She wondered what had happened to all the women able to procreate in their homeland. And why had her Grandma not told her that was what being a Daughter of Ziva meant? To not leave her scared of what fate would become her if the Gavali found their village?

Either way, the puzzle had formed a worrisome picture in her head. There were at least 50 women who bled currently fleeing the Gavali at this very moment. That was 50 of the women who had raised her, braided her hair, and taught her to shoot a bow. Sienna's gut twisted, her bound hands giving her a clear view of what would happen to those women if they were caught.

Footsteps.

Just as she considered faking sleeping, Voivode brushed through the tent flaps with a small torch in hand. Her heartbeat was making the same uneven trotting noise their horses had made strutting into her village. He lit the tall dish on top of the three stakes, now with light was clearly a brazier. He put the torch on one of the wooden beams holding the tent upright, throwing him into a warm light that didn't suit how she felt about him. He walked to the side of the tent opposite her, only casting her a side glance. She didn't know whether to feel scared, relieved, or angry that he paid her so little attention. Her body settled on scared.

He began taking off his leathers, setting her nerves alight. Was he going to rape her now? She couldn't even move. Would he be cruel enough to use the fact that she was in too much pain to his advantage? Sienna did her best to crush any hope she had in her and accept what comes, knowing that while she was immobilized it would be best for her soul.

She tried not to look at him while he stripped off his outer layers, uncomfortable with his human appearance. Sure, he was huge, but the scars she had seen on his arms that had seemed so important while she was fighting him were barely visible now. His arms rippled as he unhooked his hammer from his back and set it down as if it weighed nothing. His blonde hair was shorter than when Sienna had first seen him, cropped close to his skull. It reminded her of how the men cut their hair when going out on their long hunts.

He unbuckled his leather chest piece and she looked away, only getting a glimpse of the kind of well-defined stomach she had only seen on the man who cut down trees and made lumber for their village. She kept her eyes away after that, flicking her eyes in his direction only as she noticed movement to make sure he didn't surprise her.

Once he stopped taking things off, he was left in a sleeveless tunic and dark green breeches. Sienna, believing it was safe now, scowled at his back. He leaned down and plucked a dagger from the pile he had just shrugged off and turned to her.

His face was impassive and his eyes curious while he flipped the dagger in his hands absentmindedly. Just like that, her animosity twisted into fear. If her hands hadn't been tied together they would have shaken. She could see a severity behind the impassiveness that frightened her. The breaths she took rattled in her chest and she clenched her jaw, trying to hide her anxiety.

He folded himself down to her level, knife in his fist. Once he was kneeling, he slammed it into the dirt near his feet. She jolted, her nerves alight, as she stared at the hilt sticking out of the ground. Too far to reach. His hand started for her wrists. Sienna jerked away, ignoring the flare in her stomach, but he grabbed her hands without trouble. He untied one of the knots around her wrists, undid one round of rope and pulled upwards. Her arms, still bound by the three other knots he had tied while she slept, went up above her head. It left her injured torso spread out and vulnerable. Sienna panicked.

She brought her untied leg up to her chest to kick him and he snagged it. She tried to kick out of his grasp, adding to the torment in her stomach. His grip was unshakable. He spread her legs as she howled in pain. Still, she tried to jerk her leg out of his clutch. As if she wasn't even struggling, he placed himself in between her legs and held her free leg up in the air. Using his clutch on her leg and his hold on the rope that stretched her arms, he lifted her towards the trunk at her head, her back and bottom on the furs.

His groin was pushed right against hers, and even in her agony, she knew this was what he had wanted. He had left one leg free for a reason. He had expected her to try to kick him. She tried to breathe through the pain and the panic as he tied her hands to a round hook at the top of the trunk.

Then he was dragging both hands down her free leg, removing himself from the space in between her legs. Relief escaped her as his massive hand pushed her foot into the ground, holding her jerking leg still as he grabbed rope behind him. She gave one last painful yank of her leg as he handily tied her foot and attached it to the wooden beam with the torch on it. He then placed himself back between her legs, maneuvering her so her thighs were laying over his.