Far to the South of the prince and his aide, a fort was hidden in a ravine between two hills. The fortress, dubbed so with sympathy, consisted of a solitary wood wall that spanned the width of the gap—not more than four paces. Behind the wall leaned several shacks leaving an area, normally empty, where an assortment of women and children huddled against a couple of wagons. Watching over these prisoners were two of the many bandits that had attacked the refugee caravan.
"Shades!" Said the taller of the two as he kicked a nearby piece of half rotted wood. "This is boring!" Turning, and looking down, he glanced at his short companion. They both were fit but built lean. Traces of malnutrition showed in their somewhat sunken cheeks. "Oy, Ryke! When do you reckon the target will show?"
"Shadow knows, Ferryn! It can't have been more than a minute since the last time you asked!" Ryke said, cursing the fact that as rookies he and his companion were set to watch the prisoners. He stretched in an attempt to relieve the stiffness incurred from standing stationary for too long.
For the two bored highwaymen the only form of entertainment came in watching the sobbing and terrified captives. The wary victims, once realizing that they were being observed, flinched and shrunk themselves in a feeble attempt to not draw any attention.
One particular woman, with the tanned face of a farmer or some other profession that similarly kept one outside, caught Ryke's eye. A grin split his lips showing his yellowish teeth as his mind took in her form. Her long brown hair that fell to the small of her back framed her face and two green emeralds. She could not be much older than twenty, going by her supple figure, lack of wrinkles, and smooth cheeks.
A grin split the lips of Ryke revealing surprisingly pearly whites that combined with his narrow face gave him the visage of a wolf.
"Hey Ferryn, we only need to keep them alive, right?" He said without taking his eyes off his prey.
Ferryn paused his teeth picking and furrowed his brows as he did his best to think through his partner's thinking.
"That's true," he said, "Why?" Try as he might, he could not understand why his comrade had asked.
"Because," Ryke said, he sometimes forgot the fellow had never gone to an educational institution nor had ever needed to do much complex thinking, "then it doesn't matter what we do as long as they are alive in the end."
Ferryn's expression visibly lightened as the implications sunk in.
"Well then, the shades we doing? There is bound to be at least one pretty mare to be broken!" He leered at the prisoners. The crowd convulsed as they shuddered under the prying gaze of their captor.
Ryke grunted before moving forward. He had already selected the target. Ferryn followed as he was eager to see what had caught his partner's eye. The refugees parted around the two vagabonds, not wanting to act in a manner that would catch the attention of the prowling predators as they stalked their prey.
The young woman also watched the two warily. A flicker of hope in her chest whispered that it was not her they were moving towards. This hope was smothered by Ryke's gaze as it crossed every inch of her body. She shrunk with every step he took and shivered with every pathway his eyes traveled. The intensity was almost tangible.
Stopping right in front of her, Ryke stretched out his hand and caressed her cheek. He enjoyed how the smooth softness spasmed as she flinched at the touch of his fingers. Fear ate at her heart and fried her nerves. The poor girl was doing her best to not make a sound or movement at which the duo might take offense, but try as she might, she could not stop the stinging in her eyes that eventually turned into two warm streaks down her soft cheeks adding yet another sensation to the wonderful mix.
"Hello darling," Ryke said, tickling her ear with his breath, "There's no need to cry…yet."
"No need to run missy, we just wanna have a bit of fun with a pretty girl like you," Ferryn, having followed his partner, approved of his choice. Tears once again crawled their way down her cheeks. "Eh? Why are you crying? Don't tell me that such a pretty girl like you is still a virgin!" a blush now contrasted with the tears on the girl's face.
"Don't worry my dear, it will only hurt a little." Ryke said behind a grin which verged on becoming a sneer. She did not find any reassurance in his smile nor his words.
"Liar!" Ferryn said with a chuckle, "We all know how sadistic you are!" Slipping his knife, a large thing with serrades along one side, free from its scabbard he held it against the girl's cheek catching a few tears. "And that's just fine, cause we all are."
With all her focus on the knife held to her cheek, she did not notice that Ryke had moved behind her. She did figure it out when he clamped onto her to hold her still as his partner's knife lowered and started cutting away at her clothes. The cold steel slid across her flesh, causing a whimper to escape her mouth as she started to struggle to escape the knife's reach.
This stopped when Ferryn, annoyed at the struggling which made it difficult for him to continue, slapped her across the face. The suddenness of the violent act silenced her more than the stinging did.
"Shut up! You can cry when, and only when, we tell you. Got it?" Tears now streamed endlessly down her face, antagonizing the stinging. She nodded.
"Hey! Don't ruin her face!" Ryke said, "Hit her anywhere else but let her at least look pretty…for now."
Ferryn only grunted in response, too focused on baring the girl's flesh. Too focused on causing despair. Once the clothing was removed, Ryke quickly joined in. The two kidnappers assaulted their young prey. Taking pleasure in every muffled cry of pain, and every stifled moan of pleasure they caused. At least they did for the first couple of seconds. Quickly, the two stopped laughing at the reactions their ministrations caused. They stopped smiling, their eyes grew dull. Falling into a trance, they quietly worked. Ferryn's eyes grew puffy as he continued, and Ryke had to keep blinking to keep the moisture back as they lowered the young girl to the ground.
"Hey! What are you doing? Stop that!" Another young voice brought the solemn ritual to a close. Ryke quickly wiped an arm across his face as Ferryn snorted, the two let out a sigh. To the relief of the young girl on the ground, the two seemed to forget she was there as they turned to look for the source of the voice that had saved her.
It came from not very far. A young figure, who could be called angelic if one was so inclined, had her fists on her hips as she focused on the two bandits. Although the pose she was in was antagonistic, and her gaze was certainly not friendly, they felt no actual threat or anger from her. No, the blue eyes that were framed with blond hair contained only a hint of disappointment.
'Now that's strange' thought Ryke as he felt the hint of disappointment trigger something within him, 'wait, is she glowing?'. Yes, strange as it was, the young girl seemed to have a ring of light around her that had forgotten that they were in the shadow of a ravine.
"Oy, Ryke. Is she…glowing?" Ferryn voiced how Ryke felt perfectly.
"Shadow's be blind, she is you oaf." Ryke said, causing the giant of a man to recoil. Something about that light pissed him off. They were supposed to be in the comforting darkness of the ravine, so why the shades did this woman think she could show up glowing like a candle set out at night? It rejected the shadows, contained within the ravine, and within his own soul. They both could feel their souls recoiling. they hated the light, abhorred it. Wanted to drag it down and corrupt and benight it.
"Well, missy." Ryke said, stalking forward, Ferryn followed close behind. "What the shades are you going to do to stop us?" With a flourish he unsheathed his own serrated blade and held it towards her. The closer they got, the more their blood boiled, the faster their hearts pounded.
"Maybe we could use her? She's quite a looker herself." Ferryn towered over the girl's petite frame. A nod of approval came from Ryke.
The girl, whether sick in the head or oblivious to her situation the two did not know, straightened herself before curtsying. Clearing her throat she spoke.
"Greetings gentlemen. My name is Cyleste Peregryn, daughter of Jonathyn. I apologize for raising my voice. I hope you will excuse me and that we will get to know each other better." As if presenting herself to two lords found on her afternoon stroll her tone became easy-going.
"Oy" Ferryn said into Ryke's ear, "She alright in the head?"
"Don't know for sure, but sure doesn't seem like it." The girl continued to smile at the disgruntled duo.
"Will she react the same?"
"A cut's a cut. Sane or loony cuts result in pain, tears, and screams." Although Ryke said as much, he wasn't so sure, but encouraged nonetheless the two advanced. The darkness within cried to be released once again and they were eager to get a normal reaction out of the poor girl.
"Enemy sighted! To stations!" A cry echoed out from the walls of the fortress.
Both Ferryn and Ryke had frozen only in part to the sudden raised alarm. No, throughout their entire movement the girl, Cyleste, had only looked at the two. No cries, no tears. Furthermore, she looked on not with the dark blindfold of fear. Rather, she gazed at them, at their souls, with shining hope.
It had frightened them both.
"Well, mi— Lady Peregryn," Ryke said, "we can't play now, maybe later we can get to know each other better." He caught himself bowing and paused before finishing it.
"See ya, Cyleste." Ferryn completed his bow, awkward though it was coupled with his words.
Cyleste completed the picturesque scene as she curtsied back.
" I hope you do not receive an injury. Also do not let any suffer, no one deserves that! May the light guide your path." With the well wishing over, she moved to the side of their forgotten victim and started talking to her with soothing words.
The two bandits straightened and turned to take their positions on the wall. Both mulling over what had just occurred. Ryke rubbed the stubble on his face as he wondered how she could look at them with such hope. They had been on the verge of causing so much pain and suffering to her on top of being seperated from her loved ones. Could anyone have hope in such a situation? Their rumination was interrupted as they felt the gaze once again on their backs.
Cyleste, having finished calming the poor girl down, had returned her gaze to the two bandits climbing the steps that lead to the catwalk on the wall.
"Such potential," she said with barely enough air to get the words out of her mouth, "such suffering." Each of her eyes grew shiny before tears traced paths down her cheeks only to fall to the earth below.
Even from the top of the wall they could feel the warmth that sought to ease their throbbing souls. Where did such solid faith come from? Ryke's jaw scratching paused, 'unless the hope was never for herself or her situation'
Sneaking a glance back at the captives in a futile attempt to meet her gaze once again, Ryke's focus almost immediately fell upon one blond haired and blue eyed individual. Now he was sure. He could see the hope in her gaze once again, but now he knew for sure that it wasn't for her. It was for him, for them.
Finally the light that had been assailing his soul cracked through its dark buttresses. As if the rays of the sun were finally gracing his soul after a long and lightless night, the sorrow and pain that had nested within stirred as memories resurfaced. Entering a shop he had struggled to keep afloat. A glimpse of the hallway behind the counter that led to the stairs where his family lived. A frozen picture of his beautiful beloved, smiling coily as she reached for his hand. The dark room as he awoke to the sound of a scream of pain. His panic as he nearly fell down the stairs in his rush to get to the commotion. His despair at seeing his wife lying on a crimson lake of her own blood amidst shards of glass and random articles. His anger at seeing the trail of crimson footprints that led out into the night.
Ryke was not alone in suffering the pains of the past, Ferryn himself was remembering the despair and anger he felt as he watched his wife and daughters get raped and tortured by some passing nobleman intent on having his fill of fun that day.
They both remembered the joy they had felt at causing the same pain and misery on the miscreants and villains that had brought ruin to their otherwise peaceful lives. The pull of the spiral of despair as they sought to rid themselves of the pain they could never get rid of.
The light shared by Cyleste, continued to shine on the duo. Soon the resurfacing pain, despair, and anger dissipated, chased away by the banishing light. Leaving only the shine of the soul to remain. For the first time in many, many years, the two found relief from the pain that tormented them. It was not gone, not completely, but it was smothered by an intense burning within their hearts. The fire of hope.
Ferryn and Ryke shared a glance. Both seeing hope in the other's eyes. Like the first drop of moisture on the tongue of a thirsting soul, they were ready to struggle to ensure their salvation. They would talk to Cyleste again and ask how she could have hope for them, that question still remained, but they would also ask what she could see them as. They would ask, but after they kill the enemy. Strangely, the anticipation for bloodshed and tears was not as potent as before.
Ferryn, not quite so absorbed in contemplation looked out from the walls first, enticed by the growing buzz of commotion and even laughter.
"What in the Shades!"
Motivated by his partner's exclamation, Ryke focused beyond the wall expecting to see a legion or two surrounding their meager fort. To his amazement it wasn't two legions, it wasn't even two squads. Instead two figures were all that could be seen. One atop the hill that led down into the ravine gestured madly at the other who was most of the way down the path by now. At the rate he was going, he might break his neck before he ever reached the fort.
"Oy, why are there only two?" asked Ferryn. "And why is only one charging?"
Ryke snorted as he shrugged. He wished to know the answers to those questions as well. He didn't know if he should applaud the audacity of the solitary attacker, or to laugh at his stupidity, and it seemed most of the other bandits were in a similar predicament.
The decision was taken from them, however, when the galloping horseman drew his sword. The sharp ring of metal on leather cut through the commotion on the wall, even from this distance. With the presence of the sword each and every bandit shivered as a sharp edge seemed to graze their throats. Silence pressed down on each of the defenders along with the prickling sensation. A silence that was much different from the screams and cries they were accustomed to. It was a perfect and eternal silence, only found in death.
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[Author's Note] Hey all! This chapter I focused more on the dialogue, trying to make it distinct for each character, and character creation. How did you like Ryke and Ferryn?
Just got into the fiction unit of my creative writing class! I hope to tighten up the plot and characters of HaD as I apply what I learn.
CH. 8 will drop Mar. 26th if all goes well.