The Chronicles: Three Sisters 02

- "If you keep fighting, I'll kill your son." he snarled. "I swear -- I'll gut him myself."

Meonwe froze. Bacho raped her, not six feet away from me.

I nearly tore my own arms off, trying to pull my hands free. I screamed at him, to stop, to kill me instead. His son - my nephew, Kestutis - kicked me in the stomach again, and drove the air from my lungs.

Bacho turned his head, to grin at me, while he violated my wife - his own wife's sister. This had nothing to do with sexual gratification. It was revenge, and humiliation, and degradation.

He had never loved Meonwe. If he had, he could never have done this.

I couldn't make a sound, with the breath kicked out of me. But there was nothing wrong with my eyes, or my tear ducts. I cried, and the tears rolled down my cheeks, as I watched the man I had considered a good friend rape my beloved wife.

When he had finished, Bacho stood. He came over to me.

- "You're not done, Veran." he said. "There's more to come."

"But I don't want you to ever forget what just happened." He grabbed his beard, and shoved it in my face.

"You see this?" he shouted. "Every fucking day, I have to remember what you did to me. Every fucking day!"

"Now you've seen something you'll want to forget."

"Hold him."

I couldn't see them - it might have been Guithrit and Povilas, or Conwoion - I couldn't tell. But two men took hold of my head, and held it still.

Bacho drew a knife, and held it a few inches away from my left eye.

- "I'm going to take your eye, Veran." he whispered. "The same way you took my face. But you'll always remember the last thing you saw with this eye."

"Every time I touch this beard, every time I pull a shirt over my head, I'm reminded of what you did to me. Now, you'll learn how that feels. Whenever your missing eye itches, or pains you, you'll remember ... that the last thing you saw with it was me raping your wife."

Bacho pressed the tip of the knife to my eyeball ... and pushed.

The pain was indescribable. I must have screamed. I know that I bucked, which only made matters worse. Bacho's knife pierced my eye, but it also gouged my eyebrow, and tore a chunk from my cheek as I thrashed about, in agony.

I know that I screamed until I couldn't scream anymore. My throat was raw, and the left side of my face was a roiling sea of pain.

- "Do what you want with them." said Bacho. "But he stays alive."

- "As you wish." said Conwoion.

- "I'm next." cried Kestutis. My 14-year old nephew was gleeful. Even in the firelight, I could clearly see the lust and cruelty etched on his features.

- "I'll kill you if you do!" shouted Iarn. Povilas back-handed my son across the face.

Bacho cuffed his own son across the back of the head.

- "Don't be stupid!" he snarled. "That's for men!"

- "I'm a man." whined Kestutis. His father only had to lift his hand a few inches, and the boy cringed. Bacho took one more lingering look at the scene he had created. Then he left, taking his son with him.

Meonwe lay on the ground, unmoving. Had she fainted?

- "You heard the man." said Conwoion. The big brute decided that it was his turn to rape my wife. But Meonwe surprised him, as she lunged forward and bit his face. She didn't let go, either.

As he tried to push her off, she only fastened her teeth more solidly. Conwoion bellowed in pain, and instinctively reached for the knife at his belt. Enraged, he stabbed Meonwe.

Tears began to stream from my undamaged right eye. It partially blinded me - a blessing, I suppose. But my son had seen it all.

- "I'll kill you!" screamed Iarn. "I'll kill you for that."

Conwoion lunged to his feet, grabbed Iarn by the hair, and plunged his knife into the defenceless boy's throat. Blood splashed across my lower legs.

Just like that, my wife and my son were killed - mere moments apart.

Conwoion stood there, his chest heaving, the madness still in his eyes.

It was the end of my wife's torment. Who can say? Perhaps Meonwe had planned it that way. My son's life was over, before it had truly begun.

At that point, I was prepared to die.

- "You idiot!" said Guithrit. "I didn't get my turn."

The madness slowly left Conwoion's eyes. He grunted.

"What am I supposed to do now?" grumbled Guithrit.

- "There's always the daughters." said Conwoion.

- "That's disgustin'." said Povilas. "The oldest is barely 10."

- "Says the sheep-shagger." mocked Conwoion.

Yevna fainted, and toppled over.

I managed not to move my head, when the big brute mentioned my daughters. But I clenched my fists so hard that I nearly passed out from the wave of pain that rose from my shattered right hand.

Our three tormentors settled down to drink, and to mock me. They found endless amusement in our predicament.

I couldn't explain the treachery of my former friends - Povilas, especially. We had never been other than kind to him. While other people called him 'Harelip', we only ever used his first name. Meonwe, in particular, had treated him like a younger brother. Now Povilas had repaid our generosity, our friendship, with cruelty.

- "You have anything to say, Hammerfist?" called out Conwoion. "One-Eye? One Hand?"

I had no response.

There was only one reason that I did not go mad, or say something insulting, in the hopes that these traitors and rapists would lose their tempers, and put me out of my misery.

That reason was Yevna.

My eldest daughter had only pretended to faint. She was lying on her side, sprawled directly behind the post they had tied me to. And only a few moments after she had done that, I felt her hot breath on my hands.

Yevna's wrist were tied. But her mouth was free, and my daughter was using her teeth, trying to chew through, or at least fray the studded leather belt around my wrists.

I did nothing to draw their attention to me. I let my head fall forward, onto my chest, as if I was overwhelmed by this day of horrors. That was not far from the truth.

But as Yevna chewed at my bonds, I felt a slight stirring of hope. If I could get loose ... I was also furious with myself. While I witnessed the deaths of my wife and son, I had completely forgotten about my daughters. I couldn't give up. Not yet. I had to think of something - of a way out, for them.

Conwoion began to drink heavily. Povilas and Guithrit kept pace with him.

"Tomorrow we'll fuck all three girls." said the brute. "Bacho won't care. He's not gonna let 'em live, anyway."

- "That's sick." said Povilas. "The littlest one ain't but six."

- "Then you don't have to join in. More for me." said Conwoion, with a chuckle.

I would have leapt at him, with one bare hand, if I could have. The urge to smash his face, to bite and kick and rend and rip was insanely powerful.

But I was tied to a post, with the fingers of my right hand crushed and mangled. I kept my head down, as if I had been beaten and humiliated into submission. My body was probably black and blue, but I was nowhere near giving up ... or giving in.

There was no way for me to tell if Yevna was making any progress with her teeth, biting and tearing at the leather strap. But if she could get me loose ...

I did nothing to attract attention. I didn't look up, or make eye contact with any of the three men I so badly wanted to kill. I listened to Yevna's harsh breathing, and prayed that no one else could hear it.

The darkness came -- blessed darkness. They sat around the fire, which would spoil their night-vision. Conwoion, Povilas and Guithrit drank, and two of them teased the third. Then the roles shifted -- but I noted that my two traitorous ex-followers never ganged up on Conwoion.

They muttered, and cursed, and blathered away, until Conwoion gave Povilas an order.

- "Check 'em." he said.

- "You check 'em." retorted Harelip. "Why do I have to do it?"

- "Check 'em." growled the big man.

Povilas grumbled, but rose to his feet. I had no way of knowing if Yevna was aware that he was approaching. I tugged my wrists away from her teeth, and groaned loudly.

- "He's still alive." said Povilas. He kicked me in the ribs, but only half-heartedly. Then he glanced at the girls, who were partly concealed by the shadows.

He must have believed that they were asleep, or that they had passed out, from fear and exhaustion. After only a cursory look, he shuffled back to the fire.

Yevna resumed her work almost immediately.

Our captors kept the fire going, but their conversation began to flag. They continued to drink, but the silences grew longer. Conwoion did most of the talking. Neither Povilas nor Guithrit had had much sleep the night before, as they had been on watch for me.

Time passed, but painfully slowly. I had nothing to do but think. Unfortunately, my thoughts were of Meonwe, and Iarn. I tried to concentrate on how I would kill these three men, if I got the chance.

Yevna gasped, and stopped biting, or chewing. Fortunately, the sound did not carry far. Or perhaps our three tormentors were too drunk to hear. I felt Yevna's hot breath on my wrists as she returned to her task. Then I felt wetness on my wrists. Sweat? More probably blood. But was it mine? Or my daughter's?

My world became very small - very narrow. I looked away from the fire, so as not to spoil the vision of my remaining eye, blurry as it was. I listened, attentively, for any sounds of our enemies stirring. Conwoion snored. Guithrit mumbled, in his sleep.

And I tried to gauge whether my daughter was having any success. She continued to bite and tear at my bonds with her little teeth. Whenever she paused, to draw breath, I flexed my wrists, and sought to pull my hands apart. At least, I hoped, my efforts might stretch the leather strap, and make Yevna's task a little easier.

She did it. Yevna chewed her way through my bonds, like a rat escaping from a poorly-made snare.

I nearly cried out as the blood rushed back to my left hand, and to the mangled fingers of my right hand.

Yevna's work was not done. My hand was free, but I was still lashed to the post, and my ankles were bound together.

My ten year old daughter knelt beside me, so that I could tease and pry at her bonds with the fingers of my good hand. When I finally got her hands loose, Yevna had to wait for the blood to rush back into her wrists. I whispered a few words in her ear.

She rose, quietly, and fetched me the axe with which Bacho had smashed my hand. I saw her glance at the sleeping form of Povilas, and she hesitated. Yevna may have wanted to use the axe on him.

Thankfully, she brought it to me, instead.

One-handed, I sawed at my bonds with the axe, until my arms were free. It took only a few moments to cut the bonds around my ankles. I rose to my knees, and steeled myself to wait, until I could trust my aching joints and muscles to support me.

I gave the axe back to Yevna, and crawled over to Guithrit, the nearest sleeper. He did not stir when I took his knife. I peeled my tattered shirt over my head, rolled it into a ball, and with my crippled fingers jammed it over the redhead's mouth and nose. Then I stabbed him in the heart, and leaned on the blade.

Firebush died noisily. One arm flailed about, close to the fire, and for a moment he drummed his heels against the ground. But his companions did not wake.

Conwoion was next. He was the most dangerous of the three. There was no way that I could fight him, in my weakened condition, if he awoke. So I used the shirt again, and then slit his throat, deep and wide. Only after that did I plunge the blade into his heart, and then gave it a savage twist.

Povilas Harelip slept through it all. I had no compunction about killing him. When I had finished stabbing him, and sat back, Yevna grunted and swung the axe, burying it in his chest.

As she stood in the circle of firelight, I saw Yevna's face clearly for the first time since she had freed me.

She was covered in blood - her own. One of her front teeth was missing, and the other had snapped, diagonally, leaving her with naught but a jutting point. Her gums were bleeding, and the blood had run down her chin, to soak the front of her shirt.

And her eyes ... I saw in Yevna's eyes a madness that I recognized.

That helped me to regain my senses. My first thought had been to find where Bacho was sleeping - and to end him. My nephew Kestutis, had to die, as well. My own life was of no value.

But Tanguiste and Guenna were wide awake, and looking at me.

I could not leave them defenceless. They would die, horribly, if they were found here in the morning. I cut my daughters free, and had Yevna chafe their wrists, while I gathered weapons from our dead foemen. I took Conwoion's sword and dagger, and Guithrit's bow and quiver. Likewise, I appropriated every knife I could find. We kept the axe, as well.

Their blood-stained clothing could be useful, too. I stripped them naked.

I spared only a glance for the bodies of my wife and son. Meonwe and Iarn were no longer there. There was no time to bury them, or to build a cairn. I couldn't have done it one-handed, in any case. A proper memorial for them would have to wait.

My daughters needed me more - and much more urgently.

There was no safety to the east, towards Asphodels or Bentwood, where Bacho was in control. But the west was barred to us, as well - that way lay the home of the Nadestis. The south was open, but there was no cover. We would be easily tracked, and caught. We had to cross the lake. I couldn't risk trying to steal a boat, in our condition - especially when we didn't know where Bacho and his men were. Fumbling about in the dark would be suicidal. It would also be a clear indication of where we had gone.

The lake wasn't far. I found a fallen tree, light enough to float, but sturdy enough to support a little weight. However, It would not suffice for all of us.

For some reason, I couldn't think very clearly. It was little Guenna who saved me. Six years old, she was. And after all she had seen - after all she had been through that night, my youngest knew what had to be done.

- "Papa - take Tanny first. It's not far. She can hold the sword, and cling to the branch. If you use your legs to kick, you can push the branch."

"When you come back for me, I'll hold the bow and the arrows. And Yevna can bring the axe on the third trip - we'll need it."

It was logical, and well worked out. There were only two flaws to Guenneret's plan. First, the water was fucking cold. Numbing. Paralyzing. The only part of my body that wasn't affected was my left eye - because it seemed to be on fire.

The second problem was the simple fact that I was physically and emotionally exhausted. The freezing cold water sapped my last reserves of energy, and the dagger tucked into my belt seemed to weigh a ton - when it wasn't threatening to stab me in the balls.

- "I can help!" said Tanguiste, far too loud. She tried to kick her feet, and paddle with one arm. I had a sudden vision of Conwoion's sword ending up at the bottom of the lake.

- "No - Tan! Sweetie - no." I pleaded. "Just hang on. Don't lose the sword, but keep hold of the branch. Please."

Somehow, we made it to Piran's Point.

"Stay here, Tanguiste." I got out. "I'll be back." There were bears, occasionally, on the Point, but I saw no need to mention them now. "Keep quiet, and watch for us." I wasn't at all sure that I could find the same landing spot, in the dark.

The thought of Guenna helped me get back to the south shore. She wasn't with me - but there was no way I was going to let my plucky six year-old down. The idea of her hiding, with Yevna, and waiting for me, was all the encouragement I needed.

Somehow, I landed more than fifty yards away from them. But I had grown up on the lake. When I looked back to the north, at the point, I realized at once where I was. It was just a matter of dragging the log through the shadows, with a bit of swimming, until I found my daughters.

I got Guenna positioned on the log, cradling the bow and arrows.

- "I'll be back, Yevna. As soon as I can."

- "I know."

I took a second look at my ten year old daughter. My oldest child, now. Missing and broken teeth, covered in blood, and holding a blood-stained axe like a talisman ... and I was proposing to leave her alone, on a hostile shore.

It was easier to get Guenna to Piran's Point. She was a lighter burden, for one thing. And she encouraged me.

- "C'mon, Daddy," she whispered. "Come on."

I made it. The point was narrow enough, and Tanguiste saw us coming. She shifted over, and met us. I left Guenna - and another knife - in her care.

The light was changing, as I swam back across the lake. Dawn was fast approaching. So was the end of my last reserve of strength.

I didn't find Yevna. She found me.

I was slumped over the log, weakly fluttering my legs as I tried to get closer to shore. Yevna pulled my hair, and lifted my face out of the water.

- "One more trip, Papa." she said. "One more - we can do this."

Somehow, Yevna coaxed one more crossing out of me.

"Kick, Papa - kick! You can sleep when we get there. Kick!"

I don't remember reaching Piran's Point for the third time.

*****