A Cold Night To Remember

[2] The Unknown Man

The moon rose high into the sky as the brutes had their fill of fist-fighting and laughter. Arovis' body protested the cold hard ground and constant noise. Finally, things began to quiet down and most of the band of thieves pulled out their bed rolls and tucked in for the night. Sentries were posted at regular intervals and someone was always watching her and her companions. To her great disappointment, their guards never partook of the alcoholic liquid that had been passed around that evening. Each one was wary and alert to their every move. They would not lose their prize. Arovis watched them as close as she could without being noticed, waiting to see if their eyes would droop or lose their focus. It never did. 

Eventually, exhaustion won and she closed her eyes, snuggling closer to Lyla to share her warmth. She tossed and turned in the grass throughout the night, a rock poking her side one time and the cold chill biting her toes the next. At the sight of the sun rising along the hilly horizon, she let out a sigh of relief. Lyla was still fast asleep when Arovis pushed herself up off the flattened grass and moved to her knees. She placed her hands upturned on her thighs and bowed her head. With silent words, she prayed to the Unseen One, asking that He save them from this peril. 

The next night was worse. After another a long day of travel the women stumbled out of their wooden prison yet again. Arovis counted the wagons and horses, the band of men was smaller now, perhaps half their number remained. The moon was one slice smaller now, though it still lit the ground enough to see their footing. They were made to sit again and were fed a meager meal of stale bread and hard cheese. Lyla rubbed her ankle, her pale skin raw from the jute rope that constantly twisted around her limb. It wasn't long before the horses were fed and watered, tents were pitched, and the men were sitting in clumps of bodies around dispersed fires, warming their stiff bodies. Somewhere near the center of the procession, a group of ten or so men drank more than their fill of ale, they laughed and caroused. 

"The women, bring the women!" One drunkard yelled in their direction. After a moment, the guard motioned for them to stand and go over to the unpredictable group. They didn't move, but their guard kicked one of the other girls so they all got up and shuffled toward the reveling brutes. 

"Dance for us!" One called out. "Sing!" Another demanded, pulling out a drum and banging it rhythmically. It wasn't until they began to shove at them that their small group began to move to the music, lifting their feet to the beat of the drum, faces blank with fear. Arovis' face burned with a mixture of embarrassment and rage at the indecency. She saw the hands of a few inebriates reaching and touching places they should not, eyes lingering. Arovis slapped away the hand one man who reached out toward Lyla. The stringy pale man lashed out, snatched Arovis by the shoulders and threw her down to the ground, standing over her with a sneer. 

"What's wrong, pretty?" He jeered, then ran his hand down Lyla's back. Lyla cringed and tried to shuffle away, the rope tied to her ankle preventing her from getting more than a few feet away, it's end constraining her to the other women. The drunkards laughed and another poured out their ale onto Arovis' face, she scrunched her eyes closed and turned away, coughing at the burning liquid that had managed to flow into her airway. Laughter roared above her. Arovis rolled to her hands and knees, hands tightly clenched and ready to fly.

"Arovis," Lyla's voice came. She looked up at her bright blue eyes and golden hair now shadowed in the night. She could barely see her face, but the light of the fire was enough for Arovis to catch Lyla's headshake. She unclenched her hands and hung her head, tears brewing on the edge of her eyelids. 

"That's enough." Said a commanding, yet quiet voice. A tall, lean man with black leather armor walked into the herd of savages, parting them instantly. "Leave her alone. You have had your fun." He ordered while placing a friendly hand on the shoulder of the drummer. His face was covered by a black hood, the firelight only touching the stubble of his strong chin.