Tales of the Rope novel Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Klaw, the Barbarian

Moon Flower, friend and handmaiden to Arlia, moaned aloud her misery to the chill early morning air. The beautiful young woman of raven tresses and slanted eyes shivered both from the cold and from the painful position she found herself in at the hands of this crude barbarian from the northlands. Clothing had been roughly torn from her golden body and she was bound in a most uncomfortable position, her ankles lashed tightly together then pulled up to the great cross pole of the now burnt tent. Then her arms had been bound spread wide and downward to the posts such that she made an inverted Y, her long shining black hair tickling the ground beneath her. Her flesh shivered in fear and the cold.

Before the nude young woman stood a massive figure on a midnight black horse of such size to make all others seem puny. The giant figure was covered in wolf skins, and the long sword hanging from his belt was stained with blood from the dozen guards now lying lifeless on the ground. His hair was as black and as wild as the mane of his magnificent steed. Dark eyes gave his brooding and rugged features a sinister look as he gazed upon the trembling naked girl.

“You tell Sylon, woman! Hear me?”

The hanging girl forced herself to look up into the dark eyes. For a long second those two pairs of eyes held, then she spat at him, a useless gesture of defiance. The barbarian laughed loud, and then he suddenly lashed out with a short whip to touch her bare bottom with a blow that was more of sting than pain. “Hate me if you will, wench, but be sure you tell Sylon that Klaw rode off with his woman. I go north.”

A handful of minutes later the barbarian was only a spot disappearing over the rise. Moon Flower shivered and moaned again. The ropes cut deep into her ankles and wrists, tied there by a hand concerned only with making the girl truly helpless. Her forlorn gaze met only still forms of the guards Prince Sylon had send with them to protect Arlia. And a barren landscape of rocks and sand. Alone and cruelly bound on a little used trail, she wondered how long she would hang before someone came. Then she cried.

Many miles passed before Klaw slowed his horse in a forest glade. North he had said and north he had ridden. The barren lowlands had quickly yielded to mountains and a valley with trees and a rushing brook of chilly ice-melt from the snows above. In the clearing, he unlashed the bundle from the back of his mount and dropped it none too gently to the grassy ground. It gave off a muffled cry of protest. Giving it a shove with his foot, the great bear skin unrolled to reveal a woman inside.

Arlia looked every bit the princess she was. Her hair was the color of sunlight on polished gold. Her eyes were the blue of high mountain skies. The sleeping clothes she still wore were of finest silk, purple as befitted her station, clinging to a form that would make a goddess envy. Breasts both large and firm heaved beneath the silk. Klaw’s eyes roved downward to the slender waist and flaring hips. They followed the long legs. But they returned to the azure eyes that flared with fire and hatred for him. Yet, if this incredibly beautiful woman pleased him or set a fire in his loins, he did not show it. As if he were ordering his horse, he told her, “Get up.”

Blue fire flashed in her eyes and her nostrils flared. But she rolled over to a kneeling position, a maneuver made difficult with wrists bound behind the back. Then she stood and defiantly glared at her barbarian captor. With legs spread wide and planted solidly, she stood before him as if fear were unknown to this beauty.

“You will die,” she hissed.

He laughed. “Someday,” was all he replied.