Her Protector (closed for TX_Liquor)

[scarlettnuit]

Isobelle quickly grabbed the rope on the inside of the carriage as they hit a particularly rutty stretch of road. Her nursemaid Annie sat across from her, plump, rosy, and in a deep sleep. As they hit another unmerciful rut in the road, Annie only snort a bit loudly for a few moments, the only sign that she even noticed it.

All of a sudden, the carriage lurched, and with a loud crack, it lurched to the ground on one side causing an immediate stop. It was only this this time that Annie awoke, slightly panicked and clucking like a chicken as Isobelle sighed and gingerly got out of the carriage. It seemed that the carriage had broken a wheel and she was told that if would not take long to repair. She helped dear Annie out of the carriage before walking a short way into the forest.

“Don’t go too far Miss!” she heard Annie cry to her.

“I will not, I think I hear a stream, I only wish to get a drink!” Isobelle called back. In truth she hoped that it would take much longer than a few minutes.

She was on her way to meet her fiancé, a man she had only heard about. Honorable and proven in battle were the descriptions she had heard of him. It was an act of eavesdropping that told her that her betrothed was, for lack of a better term, long in the tooth. Of course, his wealth made this fact of very little importance to her father. This union was supposed to stop the great war that had been waging for 100 years. Having been quite sheltered from her mother, she didn’t understand how a simple union would end decades of hatred, but she felt if there was any hope to save innocent lives, she would willingly give her own life.

So here she found herself, broken down in the quite of the woods and on her way to her future. She looked over her features in the stream. Long honey brown hair and velvet green eyes staring back at her. She supposed her husband would be happy enough, and she would pretend to be happy to meet him. She bent down to cup some cold water to her lips when suddenly a rough hand covered her mouth, making her scream inaudible as she struggled against the grasp of stranger who now ran, with her body over his shoulder, through the woods.

 

[Tx_Liquor]

Marik had one job, and that was to protect. He was paid one third upfront and would be paid the rest when the Bride-Queen was delivered to her new husband. This woman's father had paid for the first part of the contract out of his own treasury and provided Marik a note for the rest.

The rest of his men would follow in kind, but in order to keep them on mission he'd given them his share of the payment. So, for Marik, he'd gotten no money for this job so far. Still, the average sized mercenary didn't care.

When the carriage stopped, Marik just tied back his long dark hair with a cord and prepared to wait in heat for the drivers to repair the carriage with one of the spare wheels bolted to the under carriage. He and his men were paid for their swords, not their ability to repair a cart.

One of Marik's men nodded and gestured when the Bride-Queen left the cart and started toward the tree line. Marik nodded for his man to follow but Grimm just smiled and shook his head. Marik turned, making sure his unarmored arm with the guild tattoo across his toned and leathery muscled arm was on display.

Grimm held up two hands and rubbed his fingers together as if asking for more money. Marik swore in his mind, realizing he'd paid his crew to defend the carriage. Clearly following someone into the forest was outside of that and considered, even by the guild, Beyond Scope. Grimm knew this despite Marik hoping he didn't.

Pointing to the carriage, Marik waited for Gimm to nod before heading off into the woods to follow his meal ticket. He watched the grass and branches near his feet to follow this rich woman's path but as he approached the stream he saw no one.

"Shit." he said, finally using his voice. Drawing a dagger and sword, Marik jogged out to the edge of the water and looked to see someone running with the Bride-Queen, his salary and future meals, over the shoulder of a man who was running.

At first Marik raised his dagger, ready to throw but then realizing there was the slightest of chances that he might hit the very subject of his commission made him second guess just enough that the kidnapper got out of range for the throw.

"Shit!" Merik repeated as he charged after the kidnapper. He didn't dare call for back up, considering he was already broke. Having paid all the funds from the advance to his men he literally couldn't afford the Beyond Scope charges that would come with calling for back up.

Merik was on his own as he chased, using his natural agility to his advantage by springing over fallen trees and jumping to spring off of tree stumps just in hope of gaining 10 more inches in distance.

Leaping up to spring off a rock gave him 3 more inches.

Jumping up high to grab a tree branch, then swing over to throw himself off another tree and flip forward give him 8 more inches.

He could only hope his endurance would hold out enough to close the gap.

His back up plan was to hope he could track this kidnapper back to the lair, which meant making him run with reckless abandon. So, as Marik's heart pounded like a drum master in his final performance, he jumped and planted a foot, the launched himself through the air for what felt like an eternity only to this the ground too hard, duck and roll to his feet and keep running... 4 more inches gained...

 

[scarlettnuit]

Without warning a hard body slammed Marik to the ground as Isobelle and her assailant disappeared from his view. She cried out, trying to tell the guard that followed where she was, for him to follow her voice, but before she knew it, all went black as something hard struck her head.

When she awoke her head throbbed and she felt sick to her stomach. She looked around to gather her bearings to find that she was in a dark crumbling room. It seemed that the room, or whatever else there was of this place, we built directly into a mountain or cave. The air was cool and damp and if it were not for the single candle that burned on a shelf of rock, it would be completely dark.

She sat up on the bed, if it could be called that. It was little more than a rope cot with a straw mattress, both of which had seen better days. She felt her way along the wall of the room until she found a door. She tried to open it and was not surprised when it did not open.

“Hello?” she called out. “Is anyone there?” she asked. She thought perhaps if she knew what they wanted with her she could negotiate her release. She could not imagine why anyone would want to kidnap her. This marriage was to bring peace to the two warring factions, was that not what the people wanted?

Just as she was about to give up and leave the door, she heard the lock turn and the door creaked open. The man that stood there startled her. He was large and rugged looking, a large scar slashed across his face, his eye missing from the injury. She gasped and he simply grabbed her arm and drug her out of the room.

The rest of the stronghold was as dark as her room. It seemed this man, and the other men they encountered, knew the maze of hallways and tunnels well, though she was sure she would be lost if she attempted to traverse them on her own. She was trying to memorize them as best she could when she was brought into what she presumed was the great hall.

It was lit with torches and a large hearth had been carved out of the mountain. Despite the blazing fire, it remained cold and she could see her breath as she breathed. There was a man sitting in what could only be called a throne looking down at her.

“Welcome Princess. So sorry for your rough trip. Hugo said you had quite powerful lungs and we couldn’t have that pesky guard following us” said the man who then stood and walked towards her. He was rough looking, tall and dark, though his accent led her to believe that he had at some point been a courtier. She had been rather sheltered by her father and was rarely allowed at court. She wished she could figure out who this man was.
“Why do you do this?” she asked as she tried to pull away from the man she know knew was Hugo. She was only released when the leader nodded his head.

“Forgive me my rudeness,” began the leader as he bent and kissed her hand, “Lord Malvoison, at your service” said and then stood and smiled at her. “I hope we can be friends.”

“Friends!? You have stolen me away from my father and my affianced! It is clear your motives are sinister at best” she told him haughtily.

His smile slowly dropped and stood very close to her. “Perhaps there are other ways to make you more…malleable…” he said as he bent his head and pressed his lips to hers. She responded by biting his lip soundly and as he pulled away, delivered a rather nice right hook to his jaw. He looked down at her in shock and back handed her.

Pain radiated through her face as she was dragged away from the great hall and back into the maze of obsidian darkness. Hugo threw her back into her cell, the lock falling heavily into place.

“Perhaps when you are kind, Lord Malvoisin will allow you better quarters” Hugo called to her before leaving her alone to her thoughts.

 

[Tx_Liquor]

As Marik went down, two things became obvious. One, that this wasn't just a random assailant or group of thugs. A group usually run in mass, but this kidnapper had back up. Someone who lingered behind to take out any followers. The second was the way the attacker forced him face first, intentionally obstructing his view, which also meant these guys had training.

Being shoved face first into a river bank Marik had to act under the assumption that a knife was coming next. The question was low and into the lungs or high and aiming for the heart. At least that's what he was trained to think, trained so much that he didn't think anymore. Hundreds of hours of drills, and dozens of similar situations meant there were tell tale signs, the way you were pushed down, the leverage used, the placement of an arm.

Hundreds of hours so that Marik wouldn't have to think about all the variables. His mind would take in the information and his body could react like a coiled snake that knows where the flesh is weakest.

He grabbed the hand that was pushing down on his right shoulder, and pulled it hard and fast. He felt the attacker roatate as he fell against Marik preventing any attack to his back. Next he turned and forced his body up snapping the elbow of the attacker against Marik's shoulder. Now, he could roll away, stand and ready his own weapon while trying to get a better understanding of what was happening.

When Marik spotted another man in drab brown clothes and a sword come gliding from the woods he realized the back up had his own back up. Good, Marik thought, Now I can kill one and leave the other alive for questioning!

***

It was hours, at least 3 but maybe 12. In her obsidian cave there was no light, no semblance of time. No one came to check on her. The door was heavy and reinforced, she was the only prisoner and being a room made of smoothly sanded volcanic glass meant there was no rocks to pick at and the floor was colder than stone. It was like being trapped in a room made of ice.

There was no bed, her own clothes would have to serve the only thing to ease the discomfort of sitting or laying on the hard floor. After some time a figure approached, tapping a cane on the ground to indicate he was blind. As he approahced she could see his eyes were sewn shut and both ears had been cut off. For whatever crimes he'd commited against the Master of the Keep, this was considered the fitting punishment. He opened a small door at the bottom of the cell and slid the tray of brown liquid with what looked like the bones of an animal too small to be anything other than a rodent. There was a note to the side.

Princess,

when you are ready to be have just tell your servant you wish to be released. He can't hear you, and he can't speak so it won't really do any good. But at least I've given you someone to talk to.

Lord Malvoisin

Without warning the band slammed his cane against the metal cell door 3 times, each time the sound echoed through the glass like cell amplifying it so that the pain in her ears reached through her entire body. The servant then turned and started to walk away. The worst part being he have no idea if person in the cell were saying anything in response.

So this was the ritual. After countless hours, the man Defmute would arrive with another dense wooden plate of rat bone soup, slide it in and then hammer on the door 3 times before leaving. Eventually the bowls started to serve as at least a reminder of how many times this had happened. Now if she could only figure how long between "feedings" she might have an idea of how long she'd been down here, in the dark, without a bath or bed.

 

[scarlettnuit]

The room into which she had been placed was a cruel beauty. While the walls both beautiful and silent made this cell even more isolated. She slowly moved to sit and lean sideways against the wall, pressing her throbbing hand against the cool stone.

After some time, she moved around the room, letting her fingers feel the shape of the room, feel for furniture, a candlestick; anything. She soon learned that there was nothing in this dark abyss except for herself, a foul smell in one corner that she assumed had been used as a chamber pot, and her thoughts.

When the small door to her cell opened and slid a bowl through she blinked and immediately moved towards the light. She didn’t know how much time had passed. She only knew that her face and hand throbbed painfully and she was ravenous. She looked at the bowl and the note that accompanied it. The little door was left unlocked long enough for her to read the note and then was soundly clapped back into place.

Something cold and dark shivered down her spine as she let the note fall to the floor. She moved back to the spot she had been sitting in before, trying to stay near anything that might have held some heat. Her bones and head ached from the cold.

Everything seemed to blur together. Endless darkness with only small brief pin pricks of light when bowl after bowl came grinding across the floor. From the number of bowls in her cell she could only guess at best that she had been locked in this hell a few days when her chamber door was opened.

The metal hinges screeched against each other and she had to cover her ears from the sound. She had seen so little light she could barely see anything as light flooded in from the door. She was picked up by someone and carried out of the cell. She tried to remember the steps and turns her carrier took, but her head swam from starvation.

Before she knew it, she was in a bathtub, the person her carried her long gone as women attended her in candle light. She was bathed, fed broth and bread and dressed in long why nightgown and put into what passed as sumptuous for the place in which she found herself. While it was clean it was clear that every part of this room had seen better days – from the tapestries to the furniture itself – it was clear that wherever she was, it was not a wealthy estate.

In truth she cared little about any of I at the moment. She had been given a draught to help her sleep and she soon swam into the delightfully warm fog of sleep.

--------------

When she awoke her heart raced as she tried to remember where she was. She looked around the room, panicked at the sight of those cold black walls. She darted her head around and noticed that she was in a bed chamber. There was a fire roaring at the foot of the bed while one wall had shutter covered windows and the other the door to her room.

When she realized that, for the moment at least, she was alone, she walked to the windows. She threw open the shutters to see a vast and angry ocean as her view and only neighbor. She then walked to the other end of the room and tried to open her door only to find it locked.

She started to move towards another door she saw to the left of the fireplace when a stout woman walked in.

“Good, yer up.” She said and immediately rushed into the room like an overly busy hen.

Isobelle soon learned that she was to break fast with her captor. She was also told that escaping would find her most certainly dead. Even if she should not be caught, the halls and corridors within the keep were a vast network of mazes. She would surely die lost, nothing but dust and bone for rats to feast on which would be less painful that if she should get caught.

The woman dressed her in a matter-of-fact fashion, as if Isobelle were little more than a living doll. She was surprised as she was dressed in a pale green velvet dress that complimented her eyes. Silk stockings were rolled up her well-shaped legs and she was given soft velvet slippers to wear. The woman then arranged her hair so that the upper part was twisted into a crown upon her head while the rest of her honey waves of hair trickled down her back.

“Now. Follow me” said the woman gruffly and banged on the bedroom door. The lock was soon turned and two burly guards stood on each side of it.

Isobelle, the unnamed woman and the guards all moved through the dark halls of the keep. Glowing purple stones that seemed to be imbedded into the volcanic glass seemed to be the only thing lighting their way.

Eventually she found herself in the great hall again, only this time, it was filled with more people. It seemed as if it were a court of people. Some were well dressed – others were dressed as if they were faded memories of glory. However, her captor was in his very best finery.

“Ah Princess Isobelle…we’ve been waiting for you” he said with a salacious smile. She was so stunned at this that she moved like a doe, following the woman to her captor who sat her at his side. She looked at the table and noted it was blessedly free of knives.

“Have a seat” said her captor, “You must be famished.”

She opened her mouth to protest when he grabbed her wrist firmly and pulled her down into her seat. She gasped as pain shot through her wrist and hand.

“I have decided the perfect solution to our problem,”began Lord Malvoison, “While you were to marry a much older king, I have decided to save you from the marriage bed of an old goat and move you into mine.” He grinned at her.

“No!” she exclaimed though her voice was drowned out by musicians that started to play as a feast was laid out for all in attendance.

“Please my dear, this is our engagement feast, you much try to enjoy yourself. I should hate to have one of the archers have to send of their arrows through your pretty white throat.” He told her and then motioned her head to the balcony above three well placed archers pointing their arrows directly at her. She paled.

“Y…yes my Lord.” She responded and was not sure how to react or what to say. She did know that she was famished and if nothing else, if she could get her strength back and think, perhaps she would find a way out of this.