Forged in Dreams and Magick (Highland Legends #1)(69)

I spit on his face, struggling in the vice-grip hold of his friend. My jailor shifted his hands up my arms, thinking it gained him more control over his prisoner. With my hands unbound, I gripped the handle of the short sword strapped to my thigh. I unsheathed and plunged the blade into the thigh of the man behind me. He screamed, releasing his hold.

I pulled the weapon out, reached up, and slashed forward. My forceful side arc met flesh, ripping through the midsection of the soldier below the lone armor over his chest.

A foot swept my ankle from behind, and I toppled sideways to the ground. My attacker jumped on me, his hand clamping onto my wrist, his body pinning me down. His weight shifted over my chest, pressing the air from my lungs, making me work for every cubic inch of oxygen.

With crushing force, his hand squeezed my wrist until blinding pain forced me to drop the sword. Colored dots spotted my vision while he wedged my legs apart, his hips snaking his body between them. A hard erection pressed into my groin. The brute drew his weight off, brought a hand down, and yanked my pants down to mid thigh.

As he fumbled with the front of his clothing, my freed lungs gasped for air, firing more oxygen to my brain to think. No amount of wriggling bought me enough leeway to reach the discarded blade or the ax strapped to my ankle. With my legs pinned and his weighted leverage, I couldn’t even bring a knee to his groin. I bucked and squirmed, trying to gain breathing space any way I could, until a pressure at my entrance stopped me, fearing any more movement would only further his cause, not mine.

I sucked in a lungful of air and ripped out a piercing scream. My attacker went rigid. He gasped and fell forward. A wooden spear protruded from his back at a low, sideways angle. Dead weight collapsed onto my chest, knocking the wind out of me. Again.

The body was dragged off, and strong arms lifted me from the ground. I stared into Velloc’s wide, wild eyes. He banded his arms around me, hugging me so hard I found it difficult to breathe for the third time. Though, nothing in the world, not even the need for oxygen, would’ve had me push his loving protection away.

Velloc released me. His quick, thorough hands skimmed my body, moving clothing aside, confirming I hadn’t been harmed. He pulled my pants up and fastened them. Suddenly exhausted, I rested my forehead on his broad chest, encased in his protective hold, just breathing.

His finger lifted my chin, forcing me to look up into eyes shadowed by deeply furrowed brows. “Isobel, did he . . . did they . . .”

My heavy blinks moistened eyes dry from a shock-filled stupor. I shook my head.

On a slow exhalation, I pressed trembling hands into Velloc’s lower back, clinging to him. Disturbing, gruesome images tortured my mind like a broken record, the scene replaying against my will. I’d killed a man—disemboweled him. Another died on me. The repulsive, metallic scent of blood mixed with other putrid odors assaulted my nostrils.

I spun around, gripping Velloc’s forearm, pulling us away from the stench of death. With deep breaths, I sucked in every cool, fresh lungful of air possible. He ran a hand up my arm, spreading his comforting touch across my shoulders. His quiet strength held me together like the binding of a book.

Without warning, I doubled over, dry heaving over a patch of barren ground at the base of a tree. My empty stomach clenched in protest. Velloc’s hands rubbed up and down the length of my back, his voice murmuring soothing, unintelligible words. After a few minutes, I stood again, leaning into his side, feeling a yellowed shade of green.

The sounds of horses nickering and snorting increased as his tribesmen came forward, leading our animals. I moved toward Malibu. Velloc pulled me back and lifted me up onto his horse instead. Through distant eyes, I looked down as someone handed him my cleaned weapon. He sheathed it in my scabbard before mounting his horse behind me. Exhausted and thankful for the reprieve, I closed my eyes and leaned back into his solid, warm chest.

Rapid movement jerked me awake. Velloc’s arms tensed around me, easing when I settled back into his hold. I absently watched the shadowed scenery blur by. We galloped the same way Talorcan and I had traveled. Velloc worked his horse forward through the group.

When we reached the front position, Velloc leaned away, speaking in low tones to Sennian, his second in command. Sennian nodded, and the commander changed our course to the left, separating the Caereni from the dozen or so other tribes.

Several hundred strong, we picked our way through densely woven forest, galloped across shallow streams, and traversed rocky terrain. The pace slowed as we climbed up a steep, rocky slope in a northerly direction.

Sennian halted, letting out a low whistle. Two scouts appeared on either side of us. They rode forward, one at a time, through the mouth of a narrow chasm, its sheer gray walls stretching up to the night sky. One of them returned.

“The passage is clear,” he said.

Our scout led the way. Velloc held his stallion back until dozens had funneled into the narrow opening. My breaths shortened as we entered. Walls ascended on either side until they vanished into darkness. The channel we squeezed through stretched eight feet across at its most-tapered point. Dead-calm air and the echoing hoofbeats added to the claustrophobic nightmare. Even the horses showed their anxiety, heads pulling back, tails swishing, muscles tensing. They hated the confinement as much as we did.

After what seemed like an hour, but likely only a tense fifteen minutes, we emerged from the natural bottleneck. The line of animals ahead of us wove through boulders half-buried in the grass-covered earth. I looked around at the moonlit scenery as we followed their lead.