Page 8 of Sword of Rage
“No!” She shoved back with all her might.
His smile widened. “It’s more fun when you resist.” Using one hand, he clutched her wrists together above her head, his other hand yanking her dress up.
Thrashing wildly, she tried to break his hold on her, refusing to die like this.
The man flew forward, landing on top of her. With her arms no longer pinned down, she shoved at him, trying to get free.
In an instant, the weight was gone as someone pulled the man’s body off of her. She sucked in a huge breath, staring up into a stranger’s eyes. He flung a bow over his shoulder and reached a hand down. She didn’t hesitate to take it. Clutching it, she let him help her to her feet.
While pushing her dress down over her legs, she glanced at her attacker, slack on the ground, an arrow protruding from his back.
“He’s dead,” the stranger confirmed. “Let’s go.” He started running, joining two other men, both armed.
Harley ran after them, not knowing what else to do. While the three men didn’t wear the uniform of a Melenia soldier, they clearly weren’t servants since they expertly wielded weapons. They weren’t from Russek because they were too skinny, didn’t bear war tattoos, and didn’t sport furs. They had to be off-duty Melenia soldiers.
Bloodcurdling cries for help rang out behind Harley as she sprinted after them into the cornfield. With tears filling her eyes and pouring down her cheeks, she forced one foot in front of the other. Her brother would want her to do whatever was necessary to survive.
And survive she would.
* * *
They didn’t stop until nightfall. Harley had no idea which direction they were going. Her stomach cramped from physical exertion, a lack of food, and the horror of what she’d seen. Heads. On spikes. And destruction everywhere. Panting, she bent over, trying to catch her breath.
“They’re already here, too,” one of the men said.
They’d stopped just outside a small farming village. Which one, Harley had no idea.
“We should rest,” another said. “And we need food.” He rubbed his face. “What now, Ledger?”
The two men turned to the stranger who’d saved Harley.
“Since they seem to be stationed along the Landania border, we need to head west.”
Harley peered at Ledger.
His shaggy blond hair clung to his face, coated in sweat and dirt. He looked at her, and their eyes locked. “Who are you?”
She straightened. “I’m…” Tired, horrified, on the verge of collapse. “I’m the king’s niece,” she revealed. “My name is Harley.”
Ledger whistled. “You’re probably the only noble who made it out alive.” His speech confirmed he was from Melenia, not Russek. However, she couldn’t determine his position based upon his nondescript clothing. His youthful face indicated he was around twenty.
One of the other men folded his thick muscled arms. “I’m Rayne. My father is a member of the king’s royal guard.” He closed his eyes. “Was. My father was…the Russeks murdered him.” His slicked back hair highlighted the short beard on his face, putting his age around twenty-five.
Rayne had said his father was a member of the king’s royal guard—which meant he worked with Hollis. Tears filled Harley’s eyes remembering the gory image of her brother’s head being skewered on a spike. Her stomach rolled with nausea, and she shoved the memory away. She couldn’t think about it. Right now, all her focus needed to be on surviving.
“I’m a guard at the front gate,” Rayne continued. “When Russek showed up, they started killing us. I was sent to warn the royal family. Someone hit me on the back of the head, so I didn’t make it very far. I was left for dead.”
She looked at Rayne. “My husband was on duty at the front gate. Do you know what happened to him?”
“They killed everyone,” Rayne said softly. “I’m sorry.”
She’d figured as much. Not that she cared since she didn’t love Lyle. The loss of her relatives was another matter entirely. And her brother. It felt like a knife had been plunged into her heart.
“I’m Milard,” the third man said. Like the other two, he had blond hair. However, his stringy hair reached his shoulders, his square face revealing his age closer to thirty.
Ledger clutched his bow, a mixture of anger, hurt, and sadness flitting across his face as he did so. “Milard and I are soldiers in the king’s army. We’re responsible for patrolling the castle. We weren’t on duty during the takeover. Instead of helping our fellow soldiers, we were sleeping. Our shift was supposed to start at sunrise. We woke up when we heard people screaming. We barely managed to escape. More than half our unit was butchered like pigs.”
Milard patted Ledger’s shoulder. “No one blames you for what happened.”
