The Captive Bride Ch. 01

This is my first story here, so please be nice! I'm going to take a couple of chapters to build it up, but there will be some sex soon, I promise. I'd love to hear any comments or suggestions.

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The sound of the horses' hooves had deafened Elinor by dusk, so that she found it hard to hear the voices of her companions, or the evening chorus from the evergreen forests. They had set off at dawn, hoping to make the long journey from the capital to her family's estate by nightfall, but a swollen river and lameness in one of the horses had delayed them, so that as the sun began to set they were still many miles off. Her father was discussing where to stop with the steward. They had passed the last inn and changed horses some ten miles back; the land between here and their country seat was sparsely populated, the forests being too thick and the terrain too hilly for anything but a few ragged woodsmen to eke a living from. She could tell her father was nervous. They were not far from the border here, and the neighbouring country had been fighting a civil war for some time, which periodically threatened to spill over. Refugees, and raiders, were not unheard of along this stretch of road. Making a camp here would be far from ideal.

By now the sun was setting and the autumn air began to bite with cold. Elinor shifted to pull a fur mantle from her saddlebag, wincing at the stiffness as she moved her cold limbs. Her father had suggested that she stay in the city where it was safer, or travel in the coach with her mother and sister, but she knew he would need help on the estate. Besides, three days in a coach with her younger sister, who was to be married next month, would be far worse than a few saddle sores. She smiled as she thought of Anna. Her mother had been quite the favourite of the court in her youth, but was considered to have married below her status - Elinor's father was only a viscount, after all. Elinor had always been a slight disappointment to her mother, showing little more than a passing interest in men and marriage, and forever pestering her brother Stephen to teach her about military tactics, land management or falconry. Elinor was far to intelligent to be a good wife, or at least she was not good enough at hiding it. Anna, however, had secured a proposal from the second cousin of the King and the tender age of nineteen, and deftly navigated the political and social fallout of her sudden rise in status. Her mother had been delighted to plot the wedding with her young daughter, endlessly discussing invitations, banquets and precedence, until even Anna became a little bored. Behind her frivolity, however, and her constant attempts to find Elinor a husband, there was a well of good-heartedness, and she shared her sense of duty towards family and loyalty to the King.

The sun had almost entirely disappeared below the trees now, and the failing light sapped all colour from the landscape. The steward had suggested a clearing a mile or so ahead where they could lay some blankets and snatch a few hours' sleep before starting again at dawn. The company was cold and tired, so they did not react as quickly as they perhaps might when one of her father's menservants, who was riding at the rear, fell off his horse. The train slowed to a halt, and there were guffaws from his comrades, then cries, but before Elinor could discern what they were shouting, she saw the man in front of her jump in his seat, and start to slide sideways.

The steward was shouting by now, and Elinor saw that the man ahead had fallen out of his saddle completely now, and was being dragged along by his stirrup, and arrow in his neck.

Shock and horror flooded her, and three more arrows whistled past her, one slamming into another man, and causing him to cry in pain. She

saw a spray of red in the air. Someone shouted. "Bandits! Get off the road!", and she was aware of hoof beats moving past her, into the woods on their right. Panicked now, and crouched in her saddle, keeping so low she was barely able to see, she pulled the reins. The horse was afraid too, and pulled up onto its hind legs, shaking its head, so that she feared she would be thrown off. Where was her father? Had he been hurt? She felt the hiss of more arrows in the air, then another rider grabbed the bridle of her horse and started to pull her into the woods. She still couldn't seen the bowmen.

A scream, not human this time. She looked down, and saw an arrow in the flank of her horse. It was bucking and kicking, but her limbs seemed to have turned to treacle and she could do nothing as her world tilted and she slipped from the saddle, the dying horse landing heavily next to her.

She must have hit her head. Her skull ached and she could feel blood running down into her eye. Half-blind, she pushed herself up. She was a good fifty yards from the treeline, too far to crawl, and she was too scared of the arrows to get up and run. She realised with a sickening feeling that she was alone. No-one was looking for her, or pulling her up. They had run into the woods and left her behind. She tried to call, but the breath had left her when she fell. There were other shouts now, and running footsteps, and she slumped, exhausted and terrified. The voices had a strange accent, they weren't her people. She had been left for the bandits.

Captain Nikolai was in a good mood. The unit of thirty men had departed from the garrison town at the border some three weeks ago, and since then they'd stolen several pounds of gold from travellers, burnt the estates of some noblemen known to be supporting their enemies in the civil war and killed the man who had been disrupting their Lord's trade interests. They'd lost only two men, including Anatoly who'd taken an arrow in the leg and been smuggled back over the border to be carted home. Two weeks of secrecy had worn on the men, though: night after night with no fire, no noise and no ale. Now they were heading back, anticipating another two weeks of riding through land controlled by their enemies, when one of the scouts had spotted this convoy of fifteen, seemingly unarmed. They'd followed them for a couple of hours. His sergeant, Ilya, had begged to attack straight away, but Nikolai waited until nightfall, when the party was far from the nearest village. Ever a cautious man, he wanted to take no chances with this skirmish. The foray into enemy territory had gone so well thus far that he started to dare hope that this might earn him the commission so long denied him. Thus, it was only as darkness fell that he allowed the archers shoot.

The small company was quickly dispersed, leaving a few dead on the ground. It was unlikely that they would be carrying anything very valuable considering their willingness to flee, but they could do with the horses, and as the last of the riders disappeared into the opposite trees, he ordered half his men to give a futile chase to keep them off, while the other half searched the bodies. The captain dismounted and pulled out a skinful of water, waiting to be brought his winnings.

Elinor could hear their words now, very close. They were searching the bodies of her father's retinue, and she heard whoops as gold coins were uncovered, and grumbles and insults when the pockets yields only coppers. Lying on her side, she saw Will, a falconer who had been with the family for years. He had an arrow in his stomach, but was still alive, spluttering drops of blood from his mouth. He met her eyes and smiled, though she could see it pained him. About to pull herself up and crawl to him, she checked herself when she saw some of the bandits come over to him. Seeing he was still alive, the lead one pulled out a chipped hunting knife, its blade dulled with use. She saw the fear in Will's eyes and looked away. He cried out, then choked, as they cut his throat.

Elinor froze in fear, trying to keep perfectly still and breathe as little as possible. They were coming over to her now, their footsteps echoing around her head and jarring clouds of pain. She prayed they would think she was already dead.

"Shit!" a voice exclaimed, just above her head now. "We've got ourselves a girly!"

"Bloody hell. What the fuck was she doing here?" The voice was coarse and gruff.

"Is she dead?" This one was younger, more unsure.

"She don't look hurt. Take a look, Mikhail."

Someone pulled on her shoulder and she was rolled on her back. She desperately tried to keep her arms limp, and she felt sure they would

be able to hear the pounding of her heart on her chest.

"She's quite pretty, in't she?" This was the young one again, and she felt someone pull the hair from her face. She tried desperately not to flinch.

The gruff one spoke again. "Not my type. These blonde ones don't do it for me. Mind you, she's little enough for you, Mikhail!"

"I en't fucking a corpse!" the young voice protested.

"Only one way to find out."

Elinor's heart leapt into her throat. Someone slapped her twice on her cheek, not too hard, but she couldn't help crying out. There was a cry of triumph from the men as she shirked from the blows. This was it. They'd kill her now. She opened her eyes, expecting to see the knife descending towards her exposed and delicate throat, but instead she saw the three men looking down at her, seemingly unsure of what to do next.

They were lightly armed, with swords and gambesons, and they wore no uniform but rather plain weatherbeaten clothes. They looked like they'd been on the roads for months.

The younger one grabbed her under the arms and pulled her upright. The gruff man, who she could now see was a man of about fifty, his face marked multiple times with a crisscross of scars, was telling the man holding her to take her to the captain. He began to pull her across the road.

The pain in her head was maddening, but other than that she was unhurt. Still, she feigned a limp to slow them down and give herself time

to think. If she could only get into the forest... they had taken the money and the fur mantle from her, so surely she was of no further value to these bandits. Halfway across the road, she was far from any of the other men. This was her chance. Twisting in the man's grasp, she kicked at his shins , and when he drew back in pain she prised his hands off her and started to run. He cried out in dismay, but was limping from the kicks and she was soon clear of him. She heard shouts behind her, but she was almost at the trees, the footsteps behind her became louder and suddenly a weight hit her back, slamming her painfully to the ground and taking the breathe out of her. She struggled, kicking and flailing her arms, but their was someone on top of her now, someone heavy, his warm breath moistening her ear horribly. Her arms were wrestled behind her, and now there was another man holding her shoulders down as she writhed and tried to kick, unable to inflict any damage on the men behind her, but her arms were soon securely fastened with a rope. The weight lifted from her back, and she tried to struggle free again, but firm hands pulled her to her feet. Someone grabbed her chin and jerked her head round, and she found herself face to face with the scarred man.

"Try that again and we'll run you through. Understand?" Elinor did not reply, so he shook her. "Understand?" She nodded. They started moving again, and a tear crept its way down her cheek. Helpless and aching from the falls, she felt a knot of terror in her stomach when she realised that there was no way out of her predicament. If they decided to, they would kill her, but perhaps that was the best thing now. At least it would be quick. She had little choice but to allow herself to be half dragged to the woods, where the captain was waiting.