Morning Diamond Chapter 7

Chapter 7

It all happened so fast!  One minute Claire had been sitting on the rocks about to hear the lecture of a lifetime when Keith suddenly grabbed her and pushed her to the ground.  His heavy body covered hers, crushing the air from her lungs.  His hand covered her mouth, muffling her startled cry.  They lay on the ground- pine needles stabbing into her sides- for several minutes while tension grew around them.  Finally Keith slid off her.  She sat up, catching her breath and brushing dirt from her body.   

Keith grabbed the closest backpack and pulled out a wad of clothing.  “Change into these, quickly.”    

She didn’t waste any time throwing on the shirt, five times her size, but when she lifted the pants she paused.  “Are these yours?  The shirt hits my knees and I am not putting on these pants.  I won’t be able to walk in them.” Keith turned to face her.  He semi-smirked at the funny sight she made.   He took his ball cap from his head and dropped it on hers.  She reached up to raise the brim so she could look at her brother.  “I look ridiculous!”

“Just wear it! Hide your hair!  I want you to look like a boy.  They are looking for a girl, maybe this will fool them long enough you can get away.  It’s worth a try,” He responded to her ‘yeah right’ look.   

Claire quickly adjusted the size of the cap and put it back it on, tucking her hair inside as Keith scanned the woods nervously.   

“Bear, I am going to lift you down the ledge over there.”  He pointed behind her, but she didn’t look.  “There is a creek bed that runs through the trees.”  She nodded, knowing it was the one they had followed after leaving Mark.   

“It will take you back towards Leishmann’s camp.  About a mile up there will be a small fork in the rocks.  Take the east bed and make your way through the brush.  Beyond the camp- about five miles- is another break in the trees.  It opens up to a large group of cliffs.  Follow the ridge until you reach a small canyon.  You’ll need to cross through the gorge.   

“After that head West along the base and you will not miss the cave.  It will look like there are carvings on the entrance, but when you get closer it is just groves in the rocks.  Just inside on the right of the entrance is a small diamond sunk into the wall that’s how you will know it is the right one.  Understand?  Good.  No matter what happens or what you hear keep going.  If you don’t find Mark on the way, don’t stop and don’t turn back.  We will meet you there.”  He tucked a stray hair into her hat as he had done many times when she was a child and pulled her into a brotherly squeeze.  “Be safe, Bear.”

Cautiously they made their way to the farthest ledge.  She grabbed his hand and carefully dropped over the side of the cliff.   Her legs were too short to reach ground, so on her nod Keith let go and she landed roughly.  “Go!”  He ordered, looking over the edge and giving her a reassuring smile.  “I’ll be right behind you.”  He was gone.  

She blinked up at the protrusion of rocks for a brief moment then turned to make her way to the stream bed.  The sudden sound of muffled grunts caused her to pause.  She looked over her shoulder, expecting to see Leishmann’s men rushing at her, ready to take her captive, but there was no one in sight.  She looked up.  They were up there, fighting Keith.  For a moment her feet wouldn’t move and her mind was too occupied to think beyond the sounds of the struggle.   Should she obey Keith or return to help?   

A loud crack, a grunt, a heavy moan, then a deafening silence.  Claire held her breath as she struggled to make a decision.  An unfamiliar voice called out- providing an answer.  “Find her! She’s got to be close.”  Claire began to run.  She knew she needed to get away like Keith told her.  She needed to escape, but her legs were taking her the wrong direction.  She ran back to the cliff, back to her brother.  She had to know, she couldn’t just leave without seeing what had happened to him.

Claire reached the small ledge and quickly climbed to the top.  She popped her head over the edge to scan the area.  “Keith!”  Keith lay unmoving over a fallen log.  Blood seeped through a large gash across his brow.  Signs of cuts on his side and arms forced a pained cry from Claire.  His body was too still, perfectly still, not a movement….not even a rise and fall of his chest.  That’s all she could bear to see.  She jumped.  The force of the rocky surface below her rolled her ankle, but she didn’t have time to worry about the pain.   

Claire limped forward, blinded by tears as she ran unseeingly into the forest.  After a few steps the sting in her ankle began to subside and she picked up the pace.  Heedlessly she ran, moving fast, straight into the arms of one of Leishmann’s soldiers.   

Her mind remained in a haze as the man roughly dragged her, unceremoniously, through the woods.  She knew she needed to fight, but Keith’s lifeless body had stunned her into compliance.  She desperately wanted to turn back the clock.  Did she tell him she loved him when he dropped her over the cliff?  NO.  She wished she had told him how blessed she felt to have him as a brother and father.   

She had been the luckiest girl in the world to have such devoted brothers, and now, one had been stolen from her; killed by the devil’s pawns.  Anger filled her.  She would kill Leishmann the moment she laid eyes on him.  Her resolve cleared her mind and allowed her to focus on what was happening around her.  With her reestablished awareness she realized she was being thrust forward in front of an assemblage of Leishmann’s men.  How had they gotten to the camp so fast?

She attempted to rise, but the oversized shirt caught under her knee, forcing her to stumble.  She needed a moment to readjust and get her bearings, but the moment was stolen from her.   A large hand clamped down on her cap and tore it from her head, taking a clump of hair with it.   

She cried out in pain.  The carelessness of the man fed her anger.   She looked up, glaring at the person standing before her, fully prepared to let him suffer for everything this army had done to her family.  She reached for the blade at her waist, but it was no longer in its sheath.  Almost mockingly a man stepped forward and handed two blades to the man before her.  She could not remember him taking them.  Had her shock been that devastating they had searched and unarmed her without her knowledge?  Her eyes narrowed at his smug smile and looked at the other man standing before her.  

She noted he was fairly handsome- for someone his age.  He wore clean black leathers, tanned and sewn to mold his frame in such a way to expose his wealth and power.  His dark hair was smoothed into place; his face clean of whiskers.  He looked out of place among the grubby, bushwhackers surrounding him, but it was clear he did not belong in Tyrell.   

He stared down at her.  His initial irritation melted away into a cheerful grin that didn’t quite meet the eyes.  His eyes.   

There was something in the depths of his blue eyes that sent a shiver down her spine and had sirens firing off in her brain.  Her whole life she had been taught to be leery of eyes like that.   

“Well, my dear, I am so glad you could join us.”  His voice was deep and pleasant, but the amount of authority and confidence radiating from him made her dread the thought of him being the man in charge, if that were the case she knew he could never be compelled to let her go.

“Wh…Claire?  How’d you find her?  Where are her brothers?”  Claire’s eyes were instantly drawn to the man standing behind the authority figure in front of her.  Mike.  Her heart soared with gratefulness.  He was alive and looked fairly well, although tired and drawn.   

Claire assessed him quickly, noting the blood stains and filth on his clothing.  She smiled at him, telling him with her eyes everything would be okay.  They were together.  They’d find a way to escape.  She’d get him away from this camp, and then, she would walk away from him.  Her heart constricted at the necessary thought.   

Mike stepped toward her; she recognized the strain in his movements.  The man in front of him stilled the advance by raising his arm in front of Mike.  She forced herself to look back at the man in black.  

“Welcome to my camp, My Dear.  Please, come inside and join me for some refreshment; you must be half starved after todays activities.”  He reached towards her, a smile playing on his lips.  She stared at the hand stretched out before her, unsure if she should accept his help or shy away from it.   He waited patiently watching her with a gentle smile while she contemplated her next decision.  If not for the steal in his eyes she would have believed him to be the kind and caring sort.  Finally, she lifted her hand and placed it suspiciously in his.  The moment their hands touched she yanked hers back.   

Her skin tingled from the touch and an overwhelming feeling of trepidation filled her.  Who was this man?  Every cell in her body screamed for her to beware.  He was evil.  A knowing smile crossed his face and quickly erased the gentleness he was attempting to show.   

His eyes bore into hers.  She could almost see his misdeeds.  She could feel the amount of death surrounding him.  Death he’d caused.  She reached to draw comfort from the pendant around her neck, but with one quick movement the man in black grabbed her wrist and yanked her from the ground.  She stumbled, but re-gained her footing despite the lack of assistance.

 She attempted to pull free, but he tightened his grip causing her to cry out in pain.  She looked around her, hoping to find someone with compassion and a willingness to help her.  All the men stood sneering with approval of the abuse.  

The man in black pulled her to the entrance of the tent.  There, Mike stood in the doorway, blocking admittance with his arms crossed over his chest causing the older gentlemen to stop in his tracks.  Claire looked from one man to the other wondering what terrible confrontation would soon break out.   

Mike regarded the older man with disdain and stood his ground, refusing to back down from the intense power standing before him.  She looked up at the man holding her wrist and wondered at the look of amused patience on his face.  “Let her go!”  Mike challenged.  Fear rushed through her.

“Mike!  I am so sorry that you got caught up in this, but please don’t test these people.  I’ll be okay.”  She offered a less than reassuring smile then turned to face the older man.  “Please, Sir, let him go.  He has nothing to do with this.  It’s me you want.  I’ll go with you if you let Mike go!”   

“Claire, you don’t know what you are saying.”  Mike’s voice was thick with warning’ his eyes commanding her to let him handle things.  “Let her go!”  He demanded again.  The older man’s grip slackened-not enough for her to pull free- and looked at her thoughtfully then curiously at Mike.  When he looked back at her his face was full of understanding.  She had never fully understood what a light bulb moment was, but it was plain on his face, he just had one.

“Mike?”  He smirked.  “There’s no need for you to be present at this time.”  He turned to his guards behind him.  “Why don’t you men help Mike find his way back to his tent?”  The flash of defiance in Mike’s countenance made Claire fear he would foolishly challenge the older man again.   

“You are dismissed.”  Her captor stated angrily, his voice leaving little doubt he expected Mike to leave without further uproar.  Claire watched anger flash across Mike’s face.  She pleaded with her eyes for him to go peacefully.  A flurry of emotions flashed across Mike’s face; defiance, anger, sadness.  But he settled on resignation at Claire’s pleading eyes and he nodded to her as he stepped aside.   

When the guards stepped forward Mike refused their help, instead he limped along between them as they led him away from her.  Claire felt a rush of relief that Mike went quietly and watched him duck through a tent close by.

“Now, please do come in.”  She looked up at the man beside her.  His smile was gentle, his voice soft.  She almost flinched from the shock and briefly wondered if he had a multiple personality disorder.  He bounced so quickly from this authoritative beast to gentle monster she was getting whiplash trying to decide what kind of man she was truly dealing with; completely heartless or partially rational?

Claire turned to look at the tent Mike had disappeared into.  Her concern for him gave her courage to pull away, but the man’s grip tightened once again.  He began dragging her through the opening.   

“Let me go, please, I want to help him.  Just let me get him settled and then I will return so we can discuss my release.”  The man arched a brow before pulling her further into his shelter.  “But he needs at doctor!”  She exclaimed.

“If he chooses to leave and find one he’s more than welcome, but I assure you he is being well looked after.   Now, I’ll hear no more of your friend at this time.”  His words were unyeilding and effectively communicated she should drop the subject.  “Make yourself comfortable.”  He released her hand the moment the opening closed behind them.  Claire looked down at the red welts left by his merciless grip.  Anger filled her.

“He can’t go anywhere.  He is hurt.”  She stated in a barely controlled voice.  

“He will live.”  He gestured for her to step further into the tent. When she didn’t immediately comply with his request he sighed heavily.  “That boy is getting better care here than he could find anywhere else. Trust me, My Dear, his health is one of my top concerns. Now, please!”  He again gestured for her come in.

“If I cooperate will you allow me to go to him?”  He laughed and shrugged.   

“You may do as you please after we speak.  Once you answer all my questions you may consider yourself a guest in my camp.”  Claire stuttered and half coughed at the ridiculousness of his claim.

“Guest?  Most ‘guests’ receive an invitation they can either accept or decline.  I don’t recall shooting up a person’s home and forcing them into your tent being on the list of ‘appropriate’ invites.”  She gestured to the red welts his fingers left on her arms for emphasis.   

“Point taken.”  He laughed merrily.  “I admit I jumped to the conclusion that your brothers would not appreciate a formal invitation.  Now that I know differently next time I will send out an embossed card.”  She glared at his mocking tone.   “Would you like something to eat or drink, My Dear?  You have been in the woods for some time; I can’t imagine your food options have been pleasant.”  He lifted his hand to encourage her towards a table of covered trays that smelt deliciously suspicious.  She looked at the crystal canter of liquid on another table her mouth watered, but she wanted would not eat with a man who entrapped her.

“No thank you!”  She responded.  “I’m not thirsty or hungry at this time.  I think I will just go to my friend now.”  She turned her back on him, but before she could take even one step a firm and wrapped around her arm and spun her around to come face to face with the seething barbarian.  Irritation shone deep within his blue eyes, and the amount of animosity radiating from him caused her to inhale quickly.  She mentally reprimanded herself for riling him, but could not bring herself to allow him to intimidate her.

“You will not ever turn your back on me again and you will stay until I say you are dismissed.  Are we clear?”  She glared up at him.  “I offered you food and drink.”  He said sweetly, but his face held a hint of malice and a whole lot of threat.   

“I’m not afraid of you.”  She straightened her shoulders and stared up him.  His grip tightened painfully, but she did her best not to flinch.   

“Brave?  Or foolish?”  He asked, with a mocking smirk.  “You will eat.”  He dropped his hand to the small of her back and pressed her towards the tables once again.  She refused to budge.

His touch made her cringe, her body recoiling as if stung, and her stomach flipped in a nauseating twirl.  This man- responsible for the death of one and possibly both of her brothers- had no right to ever touch her and she’d be damned if he would dominate over her.   

“Your men killed my brothers.”  She accused, crossing her arms stubbornly and moving out of his reach at the same time.  

“Yes, well, to be fair the men who caught you were not in attendance when I gave orders for your brothers to be brought back alive.  I had meant to give them to my son.”  Her mouth dropped.  “In all honest I am interested in knowing how my son would choose to inflict the penalty of treason on your brothers.  In reality you should thank my men; they did your brothers a service.”  For a moment all she could do was stare in shock.  Did he really think her brother’s deaths were some sort of gift?   

“I need to go to Mike now,” she stated firmly.  

“You will eat with me before you take your leave.  We have much to discuss.” He stepped closer-effectively placing himself between her and the exit and forcing her to retreat further into the tent.

“I wouldn’t eat with you if you were the last person in existence.”  She spoke with venom, her temper beginning to rise at the man’s continual arrogance and overbearing ways.  “I want to go to my friend!”

“In time you shall be united with, what was his name, Mike?  In fact I will give you all the time you desire with him once we are through here.”  He fanned his hand in the air, brushing off her request.  “First I think it’s time to introduce myself.”  Something in the way he said that made her skin crawl.  Did she really want to know his identity?  He didn’t wait long in taking that choice away.  “Lord Landon Leishmann, at your service.”  He bowed deeply, a smug smile on his face.

Claire gasped.  Sweat beaded across her forehead and she began to shutter.  A lump formed in her throat, big enough to choke on and a growing nausea hit her with a horrid force.  So this was him…the man who started it all.  This was the man who forced her and her brothers to flee their home world, was responsible for thousands of deaths and massively destroying hundreds of villages and lives; he stood only a few feet from her.

“Leishmann,” his name escaped her lips, an accusatory hiss.

His self-satisfied grin helped shake Claire from her bubble of fear.  He was enjoying the way her body had reacted to the mention of his name, how fear had invaded her senses so completely.  Squaring her shoulders she decided to allow her training and strength to guide her instead of permitting fear to control her.  She would not allow him to have the power to make her quake again.  Her eyes narrowed.  

“You look like you want to see my head on a spike.  Come, let’s not be hostile.  I would like to be friends.”  He gestured for her to come closer.  She took another step back, slapping his hand away.

“Leishmann!”  This time she spat his name at him in rebuke.

“I prefer my friends to call me Landon.”  He smiled wickedly and deliberately stepped closer.  The movement made her feel like a squirrel stalked by a rattlesnake.  Only she wasn’t a rodent.

“You are not my friend!  I could never be friends with a murderous leech.”  She watched with a splash of joy as he flinched at her words.  Apparently he didn’t like being reminded of who he was.

 “Apparently your brothers did not teach you to respect your elders.   I will forgive you this once for your impudence, but I will not tolerate it again.  Now, we have business to discuss.  Would you like me to dish you a plate?”  He asked as he moved towards the small table that held empty dishes.   She took the moment to come to a conclusion.  He wanted something from her.  Enough he was willing to let her insult slide.  So be it.  She’d see what he wanted, but she’d also see what he was made of.

“No thank you.  My stomach has just received the worst assault imaginable.  I am afraid if I were to add food offered from your table, it would be its undoing.”  She had the pleasure of watching his shoulders tense before he turned on her.  

“Sorry to hear that, My dear.  Seeing my men can be a tad trying on a sensitive tummy.” He left the dishes untouched, but did move to the table and begin uncovering trays of the most delicious assortment of foods arranged invitingly.  It looked as though some had already been disturbed, but most dishes were untouched.  

“Oh, let me assure you, Sir, your men are not the problem.”  She let the cut linger between them.  After a few moments he picked up a small cube of cheese and popped it in his mouth.  Claire’s stomach growled loudly, betraying the fact that she had not eaten since that morning.  Leaishman grinned and purposefully lifted a chunk of juicy meat from the tray and savored the taste of it.

“I assume by your presence here you were on your way back to Danyon?”  He asked conversationally.

“No, my presence here is because I was forced, by your men, to be in you company.”  He smirked and gave her a slight bow as though he surrendered.

“Allow me to rephrase.  Were you on your way home to Danyon?”  He asked as he popped another cheese square in his mouth.

“So it would seem.”  She answered.  She turned her head, unable to watch the sickening show before her.  

“Were you planning to meet up with anyone particular?”  

“Oh yes.  We have a three sheep herders waiting for us to bless their goats.”  She crossed her arms before her.

“A smart mouth is the least becoming attribute in a woman.”  Leishmann sneered.

“Depends on who you talk to.  I know several people who like it well enough and frankly their opinion matters more to me than yours.”  She saw his jaw clench and had to suppress a smile.  “If we are finished with our little chat, I’d like to go to my friend now.”

“We are far from finished and you will go when I dismiss you.”  There was something in those words that caught her attention.  A sort of, panick.  Claire could see it in his eyes.  It was there staring back at her as though he was laying his soul on the line.  He was obsessed with being in control.  She wondered if that included being in control of himself or if it was just controlling others he desired.  Did she dare test it?  She knew the answer before she dared ask it of herself.

“I thought you said I was a guest.  By that definition I should have the right to take my leave at any given time,” She tested.

“There are answers I will have before you leave this tent.”  He straightened and she immediately recognized it as an attempt to intimidate her.  

“Then ask your questions and be done with it so I may go.”  It was almost comical the way he blinked back his surprise.  She couldn’t tell if it was her bluntness or the fact that she didn’t cower that shocked him more.

“There are two things I want from you.  First, I want the book.  Second I want the location of the witch.”  She had neither.

“I’m afraid I can be of no use to you then.”  A slow smiled began to work its way across her face.  He held her against her will because of two things which she did not possess.  It was ridiculous.  

“Don’t play games with me, Chit.”  Apparently we were done with the niceties now.  His expression changed in that instant and he looked every part the evil villain.  “I have searched for that book for years and I will have it.  I will also have the location of that Witch.  She has escaped me for the last time.”  He took a step towards her, but Claire stood her ground.

“Again I will say I am no use to you.  I only learned of the book after your men attacked my home and even that was only a story my brothers told.  I have never laid eyes on it,” She hoped he didn’t see through that lie, “and I have never met a Witch in my entire life.”

“I will warn you that I have the ability to tell when people are lying to me.”

“Oh good then I won’t have to repeat myself when I say I have no idea where either is located.”  At least that part was true.  Last she saw the book Mark had it and she didn’t know where Mark was.  

“Don’t lie to me, Wench!”  In two strides Leishmann stood face to face with her.  He grabbed her arm in a merciless hold and shook her violently.

“You wouldn’t know the truth if it slapped you across the face.”  He shook her again this time harder.

“You will tell me where Marcel is or I will beat the information from you!”

“You are no more than a parasite.  I gave you my answer and I have no other for you.”  She heard the sound of his hand across her face before she felt the sting.  The blow forced her off balance, but she regained her footing quickly.  Shocked she covered her cheek with her hand and remained hunched over for several moments, attempting to accept what had just happened.  No one had ever struck her before.  Something within her snapped and in that moment she understood seeing red.

She straightened, her rage daring her to challenge him on a new, and dangerous, level.  “Only a true coward would hit a woman.”  She said through gritted teeth.  He raised his hand to hit her again, but she didn’t give him the chance to strike.   

Claire rushed Leishmann like a she-cat fighting for its life.  She released years of martial arts training and hit him with precision.  The shock on his face excited her and her mind emptied of all thoughts but one, victory.  She kicked him in the gut, her movements made awkward by her the oversized shirt that twisted around her and she was forced to step back to avoid tripping and finding herself trapped within his control.

Leishmann straightened and leered at her then, to her surprise, excitement filled his eyes and he smiled like a child opening a new present.  “This dinner date just got fun.”  He spat blood from his mouth and stood menacingly before her.  “After you, My Dear.”  He invited, offering her the side of his face.  It was too late to go back now, but she’d be damned if she accepted an invitation that would leave her vulnerable.

She circled him, looking for the perfect place to strike, more than happy to finish the fight they had begun.  Somewhere in the back of her mind she cautioned herself, but pain and anger slammed a solid door on all the reasons why she should stop.

Calmly he followed her movements.  He appeared casual and relaxed.  His arms dangled at his side completely comfortable.  Good.  She thought.  Underestimating your opponent is the number one cause of defeat.   

“You may begin anytime.”  He welcomed.  He had a calmness in his voice, but maliciousness painted his whole being.  The effect unnerved her, but not enough that it would stop her.  “I’ll give you the chance to answer my question honestly one last time.”  He raised his hand slowly towards her, mocking her.  They were beyond that now, besides she didn’t have what he wanted.

She stared at the offending limb before her.  In a flash of movement she smacked it away, jumped and slammed her elbow into the side of his head.  She landed inches behind him and raised her leg to back kick him in the kidney, but her movements were altered again by the large shirt and her foot only found air.  She swung the leg to maintain her balance and looked up into Leishmann’s intense blue eyes.   

“As you wish, but I warn you, Chit, you will not enjoy where this is going.”  His eye’s narrowed as he looked her up and down.  She felt sickened by his regard.  “Ah, but I will.”  He licked his lips in anticipation.   

Repulsed, Claire spat in his face.  Mark once told her she should fight with fervor and spit fire at any man daring enough to fight her.  It may not be fire, but the liquid running down his cheek gave her a sense of satisfaction.

Slowly, deliberately he wiped the saliva from his jaw.  His countenance screamed of irritation and something unexpected, amusement.  “Only one person has ever dared do that to me.  Bless her beautiful sweet head.  She never repeated the same mistake twice.  Nor will you.”  To prove him wrong she spat on him again.   

His amusement disappeared, replaced with a calm ire that sent shivers down her spine and her mind once again screamed caution.  Momentarily she thought it had been a mistake to spit the second time.  He reached for her then.  The movement quick and almost unexpected after the calmness he had showed.   

She should have dodged easily, but the sudden advance- combined with the clumsiness the shirt caused when it tangled around her knees- left her vulnerable to his attack.  In one swift movement his arm wrapped around her and he roughly yanked her to him, knocking the wind from her as he crushed her against his chest.  With extra force applied in the right spot she felt a sharp stabbing pain and heard the distinct crack of her rib.   

“Listen here you little cat, you will behave yourself in my presence and you will never spit on me again.  Do you understand?”  His voice was cool and calm and enfolded her in its malevolence.  Claire stared into eyes of steal, but despite every warning bell firing at that moment she couldn’t stop herself.   Claire looked him in the eye- determined he would believe her immune to his heavy handed ways and did the only thing she could.  She showered the man with a thin line of wet sputum.   

Keith had once told her she responded too quickly and often scolded her for not thinking before acting.  She knew this would be one time she had wished she’d listened, but the deed was done and she could not bring herself to regret it.

As quickly as the saliva left her mouth, she threw her head forward and felt the gratification of hearing and feeling Leishmann’s nose crunch under the force.  The response was instant.  He released her and she stumbled back.   

She watched as Leishmann set his nose, but she couldn’t allow him the time to recoup.  She rushed forward-folding Keith’s shirt around her as she moved-and delivered a quick spin kick that sent him back a few feet.  The pain in her side raked through her, but she fought against its hindering force and delivered a front kick to his chest.  He grunted and fell back.  She stared down at him, satisfied that she would dispense the final blow.

“How easy this was.”  She stated.  She rushed forward, intent on kicking him in the face and ending the fight.  She lifted her leg and relished the shock in his eyes as her foot came down.   

Unexpectedly, her feet flew out from under her and she fell heavily to the ground, the force knocking the wind from her.  Pain blinded her and she felt the room spin at an alarming rate.  She struggled for air, but the throbbing hindered her success.   

Before she could catch her breath her body was ripped forward; Leishmann’s fist tangled in the extra folds of her shirt and twisted the fabric, unforgivingly, around her throat as he pulled her from the ground to face him.   

“I said, never spit on me again.”  With a forceful shove he sent her flying across the room.  She hit a heavy table with force that left her dizzy.  For several minutes she could only sit against the table leg while shock embraced her like a small child.  Eventually her senses began to slowly return and she shook her head in a desperate attempt to make the room stop spinning.  

Finally, she looked up and met the eyes of her enemy.  He stood towering above her, legs apart and arms casually at his sides.  His stance reeked of power and strongly declared he would not be challenged again.  He wiped the drizzle of blood from his nose, inspected it, then glared down at her.  She closed her eyes when she saw his hand move.   

The pain in her head intensified and she felt blackness moving in from the force of his fist against her cheek.  She expected to be hit again, but when the second strike didn’t come she dared to open her eyes.  Before her Leishmann’s hand hovered like a lion with its teeth bared, taunting her with a false offer of kindness.   

“Now, My Dear, where is Marcel and where is that damn book?”  Claire was baffled by the fact he still believed she had answers for him.  How could he still believe she was lying to him?  He stood above her with his hand stretched before him, a silent invitation; though she didn’t care to feel her hand in his.

She struggled to her feet ignoring his extended hand.  When she tried to straighten the sharp stabbing pain in her ribs caused her to gasp and double over, but it was the intense pulsing in her head that pained her the most.  “Webster, get water and a cleaning rag for the lady.”  He commanded.   

Until that moment Claire had not notice the man standing in the corner.  He was dressed neatly with a towel folded over his arm.  He looked stiff and his eyes bore into her, wide and shocked.   

“Now!”  At his Lord’s demand the man jolted forward.  He retrieved a pitcher and bowl from a small washstand.  Placing the bowl on the table behind Claire, he poured water into it.  Leishmann took the towel from the man’s arm and soaked it before offering it to her.  She ignored it.   

“You should clean that up; you are bleeding all over my tent.”  Leishmann stated, his words softly caressing the ears in mock concern and making bile rise in her throat.  She glared at him.  After a moment the servant moved forward and took the rag from Leishmann.  He quickly began to clean her face; his movements clumsy in his rush to please his master.  After only a moment of his less than helpful-although good intended- assault, Claire pushed his hand away.

“Now come on miss, tis a mighty bad cut.  Please let me help you.”  He pleaded.  He kept glancing nervously over his shoulder at Leishmann, who looked as though nothing was amiss.  

Claire reached up and felt the side of her head, it was tender, wet and sticky.  Bringing her fingers in front of her, her eyes widened at the amount of blood saturating them.   

“You really should clean that up.”   Leishmann reiterated.  She could hear the amusement in his voice, as though he enjoyed looking at his handiwork.  She could feel blood pooling out of the gash in her head and soaking her shirt, but she ignored it just to spite him.  He stood with open amazement.   

“Still have some fight left in you I see.”  Leishmann ripped the rag out of the servant’s hand.   

Grabbing her arm forcefully he pulled her close to him.  She attempted to pull away from him but the movements caused a throbbing agony to radiate through her head and side.  She stopped struggling.  Leishmann smiled triumphantly and placed the rag on her head.   

Roughly he scrubbed at the blood causing the stinging to intensify.  She flinched from him, but his hands dug into her arm again, holding her in place.  She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out.   

Leishmann continued to cruelly blot at the gash in her head.  Anger, hate and pain overwhelmed her and nausea began to set in.  She drew in a deep painful breath and pulled at every fiber of courage she still held within her.  Straightening- as best she could- she looked up into his eyes challenging him to continue his onslaught or daring him to release her.     

Leishmann scrutinized her for a moment then dropped her arm, but then lifted her hand to drop the rag in it.  When she brought the rag to her wound, he smiled at her; a gloating self-satisfied smile.   “Come, wine will help with the pain.  I’ll allow you some as soon as you give me answers.”   

Leishmann turned his back on her, walked to a small table, and poured a glass of wine.  When he faced her again he looked calm and casual.  She felt uncertain of what his next insult would be as he leaned against the table and beckoned her to join him.   

Claire looked at the blood soaked rag in her hand and allowed a new and welcoming numbness to engulf her.  For the first time since this whole crusade began she felt nothing.  Her fear evaporated.  Her anger and hurt flew to the deepest depths of the soul and was buried by the complete nothingness that surrounded her.  She raised her head to look into Leishmann’s eyes.

His open mockery was meant to rile her.  He took a small sip of the wine then lifted the glass-turning it to offer her the edge touched by his lips.  The action meant to offend her in the most profound level possible.   

Somewhere in the depths of her mind she recognized he was baiting her, daring her to come at him.  She knew it was a trap, but could do nothing to stop her numbness from transforming into a coldness- heavy laden with dangerous intentions.  She snapped.  

Claire flew at Leishman, with the determination of one with nothing left to lose.  She had lost her family, lost her home.  She wanted to make him lose something as well.  His life.   

She rushed Leishmann, her numb emotions blocking her ability to rely on years of training.  Her attack was clumsy and foolish, but she didn’t care.  Even when he easily caught her in an iron grip, she felt nothing.

Claire raked her nails down Leishmann’s cheek, peeling off his skin and forcing him to let her go.  She stepped back for a brief second, but then quickly slammed her fist, hard and fast, into his jaw before he could muster up a defense.   

Before she allowed common sense to regain its control she delivered a second and a third blow as energy from some unknown place radiated through her.  She fed on that energy even as she fought against the feelings probing on the outside of her emotionless state, begging to be let back in.   

She refused to allow sentiments to tarnish her pursuit.  For if she allowed but one emotion into her mind at that moment it would be fear and she could not afford to fear anything.  She delivered a healthy kick to Leishmann’s side and watched him flinch from the blow.  Again she let her fist fly, but this time Leishmann caught her fist in an unforgiving hold.   

He pulled her arm straight in the air as he stood, raising his tall frame toward the sky.  He looked the impending giant.  Quickly grabbing Claire’s other arm he held her suspended in the air until the blissful numbness began to evaporate.  

Leishmann watched with menacing patience as Claire’s mind cleared and her senses began to return with disturbing clarity.  It was in that moment her mind registered fear and remembered pain.   

A slow smile crossed Leishmann’s face and Claire knew it was the fear he had waited for.  

He loomed over her, stretching her into the air and making it difficult for her to struggle against him.  He gave her one violent shake to assure her trepidation was complete.  Pain radiated through her with a force she had not expected and she cried out at his harsh treatment.  He smiled and Claire could read in his eyes the anticipation of his next assault and knew he wanted her to feel every sting he could inflict upon her.

Panicked she opted for the one last method of defense she could think of.  She lifted her knee with complete accuracy.  He grunted, but his grip never wavered.  His eyes darkened further and she prayed her for her numbness to return; because she was unsure if she could endure the agony he intended for her.  

“Sometimes little mice get caught in a trap they cannot escape.  By the way, I want you to know, I believe you were telling me the truth about Marcel and the book.” He said calmly, his voice grating her nerves.  Claire paled at the complete transformation of his face.   She could not describe the mixture of animosity, arrogance and darkness surrounding the man standing serenely before her.  The effect made her completely miss the fact he had admitted she had not lied to him.

She shuddered when smiled sweetly and wrapped both her wrists in one hand while the other moved to trace a tender line over her jaw and trail its way its way down her side to cup her waist to pull her against him.  Slowly he raked his eyes over her before returning his gaze to lock with hers.  His eyes held her captive as a cobra’s does with its prey. She could not look away and for the first time she was frozen by fear.

“You are so perfect.  I have never met a more ravishing being in my life.  You fight with vigor worthy of my admiration, but now my pet, I must show you that I am your master.”  To her dismay he leaned forward and softly placed a kiss on the tip of her nose.  “You have shown me your skills, but now, My Dove,” his eyes glowed with eagerness and he shifted to better fuse their bodies against each other, “It’s my turn!”   

Sudden realization hit her with a violent blow. This had been his plan all along; to bait her into attacking him so he could repay her tenfold.  He had played her a fool, tested her skills, twisted her emotions and lured her into a fight they both knew he would win.  It had been her that had misjudged him and in doing so, she had handed him his victory.

She turned her head, looking for anything to defend herself with.  She locked eyes with the servant.  What she saw in them made her blood turn cold.  He looked on her with a mournful forbidding before he turned his back and quickly left the tent.  Looking back at Leishmann she flinched at the hostile stillness radiating from him.   

“I warned you and I would enjoy teaching you.  I am pleased you would give me the opportunity.”   

Leishmann dropped her hands and waited while she quickly gained her stance, although doing so caused her to quickly cradle her middle.  She flinched at the pain and desperately wanted to assess the extent of her wounds, to know the effect they may have on her escape, but she dared not take her eyes off Leishmann.   

Her heart pounded in her chest and fear like nothing she had ever experienced dragged her backwards.  She felt weighed down by an unexpected heaviness in her legs.  Pain raked its ugly claws across her ribs and tore at her skull each time she took a step, but she continued her trek backward.   Finally- after Leishmann made no attempt to stop her-she turned and bolted.

She reached the tent flap and threw it open, fresh air seeped into her lungs and gave her a burst of encouragement.  Freedom beckoned to her with open arms.  One step, two steps, three…

Claire’s body came to an abrupt and painful stop.  Leishman’s arm wrapped unforgivingly around her waist and crushed her against him.   

“I did not dismiss you!”  His lips brushed against her ear and his breath touched her softly.  The combination caused a dreadful cramp in the pit of her stomach.  She screamed and wildly searched the faces of the grungy men surrounding the camp, hunting for a hero. In their eyes she saw pity or amusement, but none held the courage to step forward and save her from her fate.  Hopelessness filled her as Leishmann carried her back inside the tent.    

Claire struggled against his arm, fighting with all her strength and attempting to ignore the agony the movements caused.  She managed to stomp on one foot, before she was swung around to face him.   

“You’ll learn, one way or another, I am your Lord and it is I who maintains control in all things.”  His voice remained calm and precise and she closed her eyes to the charming smile that replaced his cold stare.  “No worries, My Pet, it will all be over soon.”  His lips brushed her brow and she cringed.   

Her cry of pain echoed within the walls of the tent as another rib cracked from his ruthless hold.  As suddenly as he had her in his arms, she was unceremoniously deposited onto the floor.  

Her body was flung around and Leishmann loomed over her, fierce and dangerous, holding her shoulders firmly against the hard ground.  A victorious smile spread across his face and left little doubt he intended to make her beg for a quick death.   

Claire stared, unable to look away, as Leishmann’s fist came down on her.  Searing pain throbbed through the side of her face.  With dizzying speed the strikes rained down on her.  The pain became unbearable and after only a few minutes she could no longer see Leishmann through her swollen eyes.  Blow after blow raked through her.  Her arm cracked when she brought it forward to shield herself then fell limply to her side.  Soon every inch of her body begged for mercy, but she could not form the words to plead with her attacker and so she felt herself seeking a solace within her mind; a place to escape where Leishmann could not find her.  

Somewhere in the fog she recognized high pitched screams, but she was uncertain where they were coming from.  They deafened her, until soon they too fell silent.   

Slowly her body became numb to the blows.  Although she felt the jar of her body each time Leishmann bashed his fist into her.  She became disoriented and a dim light loomed in the distance, it looked comforting, welcoming.  She wanted to go to it.

The last thing she remembered before welcoming the lightness around her was the faint sound of a familiar voice yelling “That’s enough, Leishmann!  STOP!”  Through the haziness she felt a great weight lift from her.  “Claire, stay with me, you’ll be alright.”  A soft voice soothed.  She loved his voice.    

Claire floated across the earth, embracing the lightness of her body before she fell into a quiet, comforting oblivion.

***

Claire woke in the darkness, her head throbbing.  She tried to move, but cried out when excruciating pain radiated through her head and side.  Her arm hung limp at her side, and her legs felt numb.  A hand softly smoothed back her hair.  The touch light as it slowly, comfortingly slid across her forehead.  Oddly the throbbing seemed to brush away with each soft caress.  After a few strokes he left her side to strike a match and light a single candle.  Though it offered little light, it was enough to see the comforting grey in Mike’s eyes when he returned to her side.

“Don’t move!  For the love, please stay still.”  The distress in Mike’s voice stilled her.  She concentrated on his warmth of his breath as it brushed her cheek.  Had it not been for the pain, she would have welcomed his closeness with enthusiasm.   

“You have several broken ribs, your arm is broke, and your legs are badly mangled.  Not to mention you took several bad blows to the head; your face is not recognizable and I believe you are black and blue from head to toe.”  His voice was gentle, but the irritation and anger grew with every word.

“Mike?  What happened?”  She felt weak and her whole body screamed in protest from the effort of talking and breathing.

“’You decided to take Leishmann on by yourself.”  He stated, emotionless.  “Not a smart move, C.  He doesn’t take defiance well, and he doesn’t care if you are female and half his size.  He will beat you into submission.”   Was he chastising her?   

“He has spent a lifetime specializing in torturing people.  He can and will beat you within an inch of your life, heal you, and start all over just for the fun of it.”  His voice was hard and an eerie stillness fell between them.  After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, she heard him sigh.   

“You shouldn’t have attacked him the first time; a good warrior should learn what they can about the enemy before they attack.  You should have found out what he wanted before getting yourself beaten to a bloody pulp!”  This time his breath left him in a frustrated huff.   

“How do you know I attacked him?”  There were a thousand other questions running through her mind, but this was the only one to find a voice.

“Webster filled me in on the details when he brought in cleaning rags and fresh water.”  Of course, Leishmann’s servant.   

“I remember attacking the first time….he pushed me and I bumped my head.  I would gladly do it again.”  Her voice was firm with conviction and despite the pain she felt she knew they were true.  She would fight him a thousand times despite the consequences if only to feel the satisfaction of feeling his bones break under her fist.   

“He killed Keith,” she said, her voice breaking.  She had to take a moment to compose herself before continuing.  “And I don’t know what has happened to Mark.  He could be dead or captured?”  The latter gave her to hope.

“Calm yourself, C.  You need to rest.  Your body has gone through too much as it is, if you get yourself worked up right now you’ll go into shock.”  She felt his damp fingers softly glide over her cheek.  Her jaw.  Her lips.  Everywhere he touched he soothed the pain away.   

“They are both dead aren’t they?  You’re afraid to tell me.”  Tears streamed down her face and a severe sense of loss welled inside her.  She attempted to turn away from Mike to hide her grief and agony from him.  Beside her she heard as well as felt Mike sigh.

“C, listen closely to me.  Look at me.”  He clasped her chin and gently moved her face in his direction.  “I am going to tell you something and I need you to trust me that it is the truth.  I don’t want to answer any questions tonight because you are too weak to understand the answers.  Do you understand me?”  Claire nodded.

“Neither of your brothers are dead!”  Claire stared at Mike for several moments.  He watched her intently waiting for his words to sink in.  When they finally registered she opened her mouth, a sworm of questions ready to be asked.  Mike covered her mouth to stop the onslaught.  “I said no questions.”  After a moment he removed his hand then began his administrations with the tingling liquid.  He gently touched her face, down her neck and over her collarbone.   

“You need to rest, C.  Leishmann is taking the army back to Danyon, then on to his castle.  It will be a long trip and you’re going to need all the rest you can get tonight.”  His fingers trailed over her arm.  Slowly the pain eased and her mind began to clear.   Though she was dying to ask about her brothers, she forced herself travel down a different road of conversation.

“He’s taking me back into Danyon?I didn’t expect that.  I thought for sure he would kill me!”   Mike gave her a disapproving look, silently telling her he didn’t want her talking at all in her state, but then he patiently placed a light kiss on her forehead.

“He nearly did!”  His fingers were gone again.  Mentally she begged him not to stop touching her.  Whatever he was spreading over her skin felt marvelous, and there were still so many places she hurt.  “He has other plans for you.  I am not sure what they are, but I can assure you death is not in those plans; especially not in Tyrell.  There are serious consequences when someone is killed outside their own world.  It upsets the balance of the universe.  If certain measures are not taken immediately to correct the balance it could destroy everything.  Before you ask, yes that’s how I know your brother’s are both still alive.”  His voice suddenly sounded drained, almost defeated.

“How do you know so much?”  She heard a bitter laugh.

“I’m a smart man.”  It was a simple answer, but didn’t really answer her question. “No more questions.  I’ll explain more when you’re rested and feeling better.”  She had a million she wanted to ask, but he was right she could feel the weariness snaking its way through her body.

“Why are we together?  I thought armies kept prisoners separate so they can’t plan great escapes?”  She felt his hands shake from his chuckles.

“I don’t think they have anything to worry about.  You aren’t well enough to go anywhere and I wouldn’t be able to either…yet!”  There was a conviction in his voice; an irony she didn’t quite understand.

Their conversation helped her remember his injuries.  “I saw the blood on your shoulder, have they been horrible to you?”  She attempted to move her hand to take his, but the pain was too much and she inhaled sharply.  He instantly responded.  Running his wet fingers down her arm once more, but this time he kept going and took her hand.   

“I am so sorry you got caught up in this.  I never would have let you come over that night if I had known about any of this.”  His lips brushed softly over her brow, the side of her eye, the tip of her nose.  She wanted him to continue the exploration, but he pulled back.

“C, do not worry about me.  We have bigger things to think about.”  She felt his fingers leaving damp trails over her skin again.  “You need to get some rest.  We can talk more in the morning.”    She felt an exhaustion spread throughout her now that her aches felt lighter, bearable.   

“C, this is going to hurt a little, but I need you to lift your head.”  His hand made its way to the back of her neck.  He supported her as she slowly did as he asked.  “Drink this.  It will be bitter, but the broth has intense healing powers.”  He encouraged.  She felt the cool cup touch her swollen lips.  She tried not to recoil as the nasty juice burned the cuts inside her cheek and ran down her throat.   

“That stuff is gross!”  She claimed and he chuckled.

“Not my favorite bedtime drink either.”  He helped return her head to the rough pillow then continued trailing his damp fingers over her skin.

“Mike, stay with me.”  She moved her hand again, searching for his.  Instantly he took hold of it.

“Nothing could pull me from your side.”  He kissed her forehead again.  “I’ll be here when you wake, I promise.  The herbs in that broth are a strong medicine, but to be the most effective you need to sleep while it heals your body.  Tomorrow you will be better.”  She knew enough from her anatomy courses in school to know it would take more than one night for her injuries to heal.  She wanted to tell him so, but she couldn’t make her mouth move.  Her body began to tingle and a weariness like nothing she had ever experienced spread through her.  Within minutes she fell fast asleep.