“You know, you’d think I’d know to just trust you by this point…But this plan, hell Illy, you’re out of your mind again.” Saying this, he looked down at the woman in his arms. Somehow, she made being unconscious almost appealing, for once the worry lines on her forehead fading away to nothing but simple wrinkles. Even bloody, beaten, and bruised she looked more at peace than he had ever seen her.
Dipping his head, he pressed his lips against her forehead before walking out from the sanctuary of the shadows and into the middle of the large office. He had entered the retreat unseen, at least until now. The door creaked open before a tall man entered, his brow deep and his face gaunt and every part of him combining to give him the appearance of a sewer rat.
“Sir.” Aereyn spoke clearly, his worried expression having been exchanged for that of pride as soon as the sound of the door handle had hit his ears. “I believe I have something you’ve been looking for.” Saying this, he dropped Iliae onto the Lieutenant’s desk.
It didn’t take long for the Farstrider to gather a handful of men, a celebratory grin bearing over his face as he sent out orders. “Paliro, be sure to fix the pole strong. No mistakes.” He barked out, once again clapping Aereyn on the shoulder as he led him to a liquor cabinet and shoved a glass into his hand. “This calls for the finest, brandy, wouldn’t you say?”
Aereyn nodded, his emerald eyes following the amber liquid as it filled his glass. This act went on for sometime, occasionally the Lieutenant questioning him or applauding his capture. From the tone of the conversation, a stranger would have assumed that the rogue had just brought in a prize boar rather than a woman. Though, if this bothered the Sparrow, none noticed, as he laughed merrily along, clinging glasses and exchanging handshakes for hours.
The light of day soon brought an end to their merrymaking, and the Lieutenant and rogue made their way down past the gentle hills of Eversong, and past the burnt trees of the Scorched Grove, before finally entering a decomposing valley within the forests of the Ghostlands.
Aereyn shifted on his horse, his eyes moving to the precious package slumped over the beast’s hind. He had managed to hinder any attempt to bring her from his sight by claims of ensuring her death, of needing to make sure that the bitch who had slaughtered his ‘true love’ would not escape. Clenching his jaw, he moved the beast onwards.
Her execution ground was barren of life, the grass for a square mile had been cleared and a single post stood at the northern end. As he slung her over his shoulder, his ear gently flicked as a quiet groan signaled her waking, followed quickly by a wail of pain.
Iliae had no time to gather herself, no time to consider her environment, no time to even receive a private comfort from Aereyn before he set her before the post. At first, she allowed it, beginning to struggle only as a scolding look caught her eye. Beginning to thrash, a ranger quickly moved to Aereyn’s aid in subduing her and securing her bindings around the pole.
Once they had managed to keep her upright, the two men rejoined their comrades at the southern end of the clearing. Aereyn struggled as he approached the Lieutenant, who had gained a perverted look in his eye. “Sir, I think we should just get this over with.” His eyes widened slightly as his voice gave the slightest waver.
And luck would not allow it to go unnoticed, “Sparrowfall, I hope you are not having second thoughts?”
Aereyn shook his head, “No, sir.”
“Good.” The man nodded, his eyes returning to the woman before them. “Should we play with her first, scout?”
Aereyn shook his head again, “No, sir.” Looking at Iliae, he bit down on the inside of his lip for a moment, “It would be a shame to contract whatever that whore carries.” Placing his hand on his dagger, he straightened his posture.
The Lieutenant watched him for what seemed like an eternity before nodding, leading his hawkstrider to the end of the small line of archers. “Of course, of course.” Gesturing to his side, he waited for Aereyn to join him before lifting his hand. “Ready!”
The archers raised their bows and each drew a single arrow from their quivers.
“Aim!”
Their bows lowered, each taking aim for Iliae’s chest.
“Fire!”
Aereyn’s breath stopped as the arrows ripped through the air before sinking into their target. Hesitantly, he forced his eyes to her. Iliae hung limply against the pole, supported now only by the ropes that had bound her. Without thought, he wandered slowly toward her, carefully removing each arrow before a shaky hand moved to lift her chin.
“Dead.” He choked out, before turning and once again pronouncing to the Lieutenant, “She’s dead.”
Dipping his head, he pressed his lips against her forehead before walking out from the sanctuary of the shadows and into the middle of the large office. He had entered the retreat unseen, at least until now. The door creaked open before a tall man entered, his brow deep and his face gaunt and every part of him combining to give him the appearance of a sewer rat.
“Sir.” Aereyn spoke clearly, his worried expression having been exchanged for that of pride as soon as the sound of the door handle had hit his ears. “I believe I have something you’ve been looking for.” Saying this, he dropped Iliae onto the Lieutenant’s desk.
It didn’t take long for the Farstrider to gather a handful of men, a celebratory grin bearing over his face as he sent out orders. “Paliro, be sure to fix the pole strong. No mistakes.” He barked out, once again clapping Aereyn on the shoulder as he led him to a liquor cabinet and shoved a glass into his hand. “This calls for the finest, brandy, wouldn’t you say?”
Aereyn nodded, his emerald eyes following the amber liquid as it filled his glass. This act went on for sometime, occasionally the Lieutenant questioning him or applauding his capture. From the tone of the conversation, a stranger would have assumed that the rogue had just brought in a prize boar rather than a woman. Though, if this bothered the Sparrow, none noticed, as he laughed merrily along, clinging glasses and exchanging handshakes for hours.
The light of day soon brought an end to their merrymaking, and the Lieutenant and rogue made their way down past the gentle hills of Eversong, and past the burnt trees of the Scorched Grove, before finally entering a decomposing valley within the forests of the Ghostlands.
Aereyn shifted on his horse, his eyes moving to the precious package slumped over the beast’s hind. He had managed to hinder any attempt to bring her from his sight by claims of ensuring her death, of needing to make sure that the bitch who had slaughtered his ‘true love’ would not escape. Clenching his jaw, he moved the beast onwards.
Her execution ground was barren of life, the grass for a square mile had been cleared and a single post stood at the northern end. As he slung her over his shoulder, his ear gently flicked as a quiet groan signaled her waking, followed quickly by a wail of pain.
Iliae had no time to gather herself, no time to consider her environment, no time to even receive a private comfort from Aereyn before he set her before the post. At first, she allowed it, beginning to struggle only as a scolding look caught her eye. Beginning to thrash, a ranger quickly moved to Aereyn’s aid in subduing her and securing her bindings around the pole.
Once they had managed to keep her upright, the two men rejoined their comrades at the southern end of the clearing. Aereyn struggled as he approached the Lieutenant, who had gained a perverted look in his eye. “Sir, I think we should just get this over with.” His eyes widened slightly as his voice gave the slightest waver.
And luck would not allow it to go unnoticed, “Sparrowfall, I hope you are not having second thoughts?”
Aereyn shook his head, “No, sir.”
“Good.” The man nodded, his eyes returning to the woman before them. “Should we play with her first, scout?”
Aereyn shook his head again, “No, sir.” Looking at Iliae, he bit down on the inside of his lip for a moment, “It would be a shame to contract whatever that whore carries.” Placing his hand on his dagger, he straightened his posture.
The Lieutenant watched him for what seemed like an eternity before nodding, leading his hawkstrider to the end of the small line of archers. “Of course, of course.” Gesturing to his side, he waited for Aereyn to join him before lifting his hand. “Ready!”
The archers raised their bows and each drew a single arrow from their quivers.
“Aim!”
Their bows lowered, each taking aim for Iliae’s chest.
“Fire!”
Aereyn’s breath stopped as the arrows ripped through the air before sinking into their target. Hesitantly, he forced his eyes to her. Iliae hung limply against the pole, supported now only by the ropes that had bound her. Without thought, he wandered slowly toward her, carefully removing each arrow before a shaky hand moved to lift her chin.
“Dead.” He choked out, before turning and once again pronouncing to the Lieutenant, “She’s dead.”
