Page 2 of Kept to Kill
Two of the soldiers advanced, but she could see in their faces that they knew their friend’s death had been her doing.
‘Please. You saw what happened,’ she tried, ready to beg if necessary. ‘I can’t leave the room.’
But the nearest one shook his head. ‘You’re the camp’s now. You’ll soon learn that an order from the Commander is an order best followed for all involved,’ he said, though he didn’t touch her, and if there had been lust in his eyes before, all there was now was fear. But he drew his sword and used it to gesture to the door. The threat was clear. Their commander hadn’t actually specified that she had to be alive when they took her below.
Lily took a step and then another, feeling as if she was walking to her death. Swallowing hard, she battled the dizziness that threatened to pitch her down the winding stairs. This couldn’t be happening, could it? Where were they taking her? She reached the bottom and made herself loosen the death grip she had on the railing, walking over the threshold until she was outside, in the square she could see from her window. There were a few others sitting in the frozen mud, a couple she recognized from the kitchens, as they sometimes brought her meals.
She was prodded in the back with a sword and stepped forward, and the ones who knew who she was began to mutter to each other, their eyes wary.
She looked down as she walked, wishing she had some shoes or a cloak or her gloves, but Vineri always took them away when they got back from theirexcursionsin case she got a ‘stupid idea’ into her head, he’d said. The man had been a permanent fixture in her life almost for as long as she could remember. Could he really be dead?
She was told to sit by the others, which she did, trying not to take it personally when they shuffled as far away as they could get. She was used to their fear. It hardly rankled, she told herself. The merest brush of her skin on someone else’s was the touch of death itself. And whereas in the past it would have taken hours or days for her unlucky victim to die, now it seemed to be but a moment. Perhaps that was a good thing, though – less time for suffering.
‘Who are these men?’ she murmured to the older woman next to her.
‘Don’t speak to me, you fucking witch,’ the cook spat so vehemently that Lily drew back with a gasp. The woman looked her up and down, the worry gone. ‘At least these bastards will do what the Collector should have done: tie you to the pyre and burn that curse out of you. Your protector is gone!’ she said with a cackle of glee.
Fighting a ridiculous urge to burst into tears, she conceded that Vineri must indeed be dead. No one would have spoken to the pride of his Collection thus unless he was cold in his grave. She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. So what would happen to her now? she thought as she looked around. Part of the monastery was burnt black and still smoking in some places. There were soldiers everywhere and she finally saw what they were doing here. Looting. They were taking everything not bolted down. Even some things that were!
Her gaze moved upward and she took in the sky. It was so vast, so open. She took a long breath and closed her eyes, imagining she was still in her little room, closed off from the world. It would do no good to have an attack out here with everyone watching. It was just the sky. It was just outside. She’d been outside before. She was being silly, she told herself as she forced the panic down mercilessly.
A new soldier appeared and ordered them up and she got to her numb feet with a wince. She didn’t even have her shawl to keep the bite of the wind off her shoulders.
They were led outside the fortress and Lily gasped at the sight. Gray tents everywhere, some gargantuan and some clearly meant for just one person.
There were rows and rows of them all around her. She wrapped her arms around herself as she followed behind the others, keeping her distance from them but hoping to the gods she didn’t draw any attention. Thankfully, everyone out here seemed to be very busy, all rushing about with purpose to their strides and no time for errant gazing.
They were led into a warm tent and told to wait, and she let out a sigh as she began to defrost. It was mostly empty in here. At a lone table in the middle of the tent sat two more soldiers in gray. She couldn’t hear what they were saying until she got closer, those in front being herded away. None of them protested, not even the cook who’d snapped at her.
She got to the table and the one in front of her glanced at her once and wrote something in a large book.
He said something she didn’t catch, sounding bored as he motioned for her to be taken from the tent.
She was ushered outside again. No one touched her. She hoped that if she simply did what she was told quickly, no one would. Was the cook right? Would their Commander order her burned if he realized his men had been right? Best he didn’t realize, she thought, which meant no killing anyone. Easier said than done.
She followed yet another soldier down a thoroughfare of sorts and into one of the larger tents. Inside, she gaped at the vibrant tones of the décor. Everything was bright and beautiful. Colored, sheer cloths hung from the ceiling, incense burned and there were cushions and – her eyes widened –naked women.
Chapter 2
Bastian
The wine here was more potent than he remembered. He wasn’t sure if that was possible, but in the however many thousand years since he’d lived in the Mortal Realms, they’d definitely perfected the fermentation of their grapes. He took another drink. Yes, he was sure it was better than the swill he’d been drinking on the Mount recently, though he was in a – mostly – mortal body now, so perhaps it was just these primitive senses he now had.
The wind howled through the cloister as he made his way around the perimeter, through its hallowed, open halls. The places of worship had changed as well. This temple had lately been some dead mortal’s fortress, but it had definitely been built for the gods originally. There must have been something more to the Collector who’d lived here, however. Gaila had told him that the man had been almost powerful enough to make it to the Mount, and normal mortals did not typically come to the God Realms. The last one he’d seen had only been there in spirit, and, after so long since one of them had visited, she had intrigued him enough to make him consider coming back here for a lifetime … or several if it went well.
Bastian had intended on going straight back to his tent to spend the day sampling other wines from the dead mortal’s cellars, but as he cut through the courtyard, he noticed a woman sitting on the ground. Her loose hair was the color of honey and she was dressed in a well-made gown of silk, but it wasn’t her appearance that caught his eye. It was, for lack of a better word, heraura. It was black as coal. He’d never seen it’s like – a glow of darkness that emanated from her, a smoke that hung around her like a beacon of death.
Frowning, he snuck back into the open hall to watch her at his leisure. She sat in the frozen mud with the others, but the other ten or so prisoners were staying well away from her. She leaned in and said something to one of her brethren. The matron sneered, saying something sharp that reverberated around the square; he couldn’t pick up the words, but it must have been something nasty, seeing how the girl flinched back. After that she didn’t speak again, just sat in the cold dirt shivering.
The prisoners were ordered up and began moving – being taken for sorting, probably. That was how the camp worked. Spoils were taken, all spoils. That included any person who wasn’t dead. They were taken and assessed for their worth and if found to be useful, they would be taken to work for the betterment of the camp. If they weren’t of use but weren’t deemed completely useless, they were sold. Waste not, want not.
He followed, passing under the grand arch and back out into the mire where the Army had set up their traveling city. He observed her as they walked, her head down, trying to be invisible. She didn’t walk too close to the others, he noted, wondering what it was she could do. Did she control some power or was the darkness he could see simply some minor aberration with no overt tendencies connected with it? No, he decided, she must be able to do something or else the others wouldn’t be so afraid – unless it was she who was afraid of them, he mused.
The Army’s captives were taken into a tent, each emerging one by one moments later, and each one in a shocked daze as if they couldn’t believe how quickly their lives had been upended, their mundane paths so swiftly and completely diverted that they now traversed a different terrain altogether. One where the Dark Army was a permanent and overshadowing presence until the end.
The girl came out, head down and following another soldier. She did exactly as she was told as quickly as she could. He liked that. He enjoyed a woman that wanted to please. As he watched, she was led into one of the pleasure tents, one reserved for the Brothers, and he grinned. He’d known she was pretty enough for a pleasure tent, a good one, but some men’s tastes were abysmal. He’d seen quite a few women doing jobs in the camp who would have been better suited to contributing on their backs, after all.
He smirked as she walked into her new world, and he took another drink from the bottle he carried. He’d see her later.
