II - Delilah
"Where are we?" Dacey yelled ahead, he wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. The rain had died down to a soft trickle but it was growing colder. The woods thickened quite a bit in the day of walking; the tree tops casted a heavy shadow on their path.
"We left the lands of Bulgaria near three hours ago, young Master. We are in Romania now," Adalinda called out. She had traveled ahead to scout the area as well had hunt for their dinner; already she had tracked down a pair of rabbits that she would roast. Stringing them up, she walked back up the dirt path to the boy.
"We will make camp here," she said. Dacey nodded and dismounted his horse.
"How long till we reach the city of Chisinau?" He asked, untying his dampened pack.
"About a week…" Adalinda paused and looked ahead. A glimpse of movement between the trees caught her attention. Quickly she raised her hand, motioning for Dacey to stop moving. Dacey held on to the reigns of his horse, calming the beast as his eyes followed hers.
Stepping closer Adalinda looked into the woods searching for the movement she just caught.
"What do you see?" Dacey quietly asked following her gaze into the shadows that were slowly overlooking the trees. Even behind the dark grey clouds he knew the sun would be setting fairly soon.
Feeling the ominous presence in the dark Adalinda rushed back to Dacey, handed him the rabbits and pushed him towards the nearby brush, "hide and do not reveal yourself until I come for you."
Dacey obeyed, moving into the bushes and crouched low. He watched as Adalinda mounted the horse. With the click of her tongue, she egged him to move forward.
"Stay silent," she ordered. "If something should happen while I am away, summon me."
She kicked the horse's side and trotted into the forest.
Riding slowly, Adalinda cast her gaze either side of her into the gapes of trees, searching for whatever stalked in the darkness. She could hear the footsteps mucking about in the wet mud; by the sounds of it there were not many, maybe two or three. But the shadows cloaked them well enough that she could not tell where they stood.
"I demand you show yourself," she yelled but no response came. Her patience was thinning. She moved for the horse to turn around when she finally heard someone speak.
"Halt woman!" a male voice ordered in Romanian.
Adalinda snapped her head to where the voice had called. From the west of the woods emerged two soldiers clad in black armor; their eyes full of malice and faces contorted in anger.
"What gives you right to enter the domain of our Prince and Lord?" The larger of the two barked, raising his sword towards her. The man's arms were bare showing the many scars littering his arm and the dirt that stained his skin. Clearly he was a seasoned warrior; his intimidating aura would certainly make most men piss themselves.
With light humor Adalinda raised her chin and dared to look him in the eyes. Her hand floated and caressed her steed's mane, calming the beast till he settled his stance.
"Is this the hospitality of Wallachia? My, I'm curious what your commander would say of your behavior solider."
"Do not act so familiar with our Lord, wench," the smaller, younger one intervened rather rudely. He looked just a few years older than Dacey and was clearly new to the art of combat by his stance. Both his hands gripped the hilt of his sword tightly; his arms stiff and nearly trembling from the weight of his blade.
"Off your horse! Now!" he commanded.
Adalinda grinned wickedly.
"I'd rather not."
The young soldier growled, annoyed by her disobedience. He stepped forward, bringing the tip of his sword high enough to touch her cheek, "I will not tell you again bitch."
"I admire your loyalty to your country soldier…but I would suggest you lower your sword," the amusement in her eyes vanished quickly and now bore a more sinister light. She stared deeply into his eyes feeling the anxiety creep into his mind. Lips sealed shut and eyes fixed on her being. His pale skin lightened to a sickly white covered in a fevered sweat. The older man noticed the change in him and asked if he was well, but the solider remained unmoving and eerily silent.
"Your weapon," Adalinda cooed darkly, "lower it now."
Like a slave to his master the soldier obediently did as he was told, though a great struggle was seen in his eyes. He took a few steps back, shaking his head as if to free the grogginess in his mind. Satisfied, Adalinda turned her witching gaze to the other soldier and beckoned him to her command. To her surprise she found him much more pliable than his ill-mannered companion.
"Your name," she inquired.
Quick to bent knee, he pierced his sword in the ground and lowered his head submissively, "Agád Dery."
"Sir Agád," Adalinda smiled sweetly, "I desire your friend's hand."
A simple request.
With no hesitation or remorse Agád rose up removing his sword from the earth and snatched his delirious companion's wrist. One forceful swipe was all it took to detach the appendage. The removal of the extremity awoke the young soldier from his stupor. The pain sent him to his knees. Bringing his bloody arm to his chest, he screamed in pure agony.
Agád, apathetic by his friend's cries, brought the hand before Adalinda and knelt again. He rose the hand up to her like an offering.
"And what goes on here?" A deep voiced inquired.
A dreary silence hung in the air.
From the shadows she watched a tall figure appear clad in a similar dark armor as the soldiers before her, yet much more menacing. A wine red cape laid off of his shoulders, the length of it nearly touching the ground. Adalinda lifted her gaze and admired his face. Like an apparition he glowed in the moonlight, framed by inking locks cascading down past his shoulders. Handsome but terrifying. A frown adorned his pale lips and an evil tint in his eyes.
"Agád?" He inquired, but the soldier remained a statue kneeled in front of the dark skinned woman.
"My Prince," the younger one cried, shaking feverously from the pain and loss of blood.
"Sir Agád was teaching this brat how to behave in the presence of a lady," Adalinda informed.
The Prince's thick brow rose in fascination and stepped closer to the kneeling soldier, grabbing the offered hand. He inspected the cut of it then placed it back in Agád's hands.
"And what need would you have for a hand, my Lady."
"Perhaps a meal," she replied indifferently.
A twisted smirk formed on his face, quite pleased with her answer. Moving closer to her, he raised an armored hand and touched the horse's snout with an unexpected gentleness. "Could such an offensive thing have a pleasant taste?"
"Positively exquisite," she cooed shamelessly.
"My Lord," the forgotten soldier wheezed, nearly succumbed by the pain.
"Agád," the Prince commanded, annoyed by the interruption. He turned to the frozen man and barked, "Silence him."
Adalinda looked passed the Prince to Agád and nodded her head, agreeing with the command. Springing to life Agád rose and took his sword to the wounded man, slashing his chest deeply.
"What can I do for you, my lady?" The Prince asked deeply curious of her purpose in his lands.
"Give me water," she demanded. The Prince grinned, amused by her request and reached out his hand to the soldier giving a silent command. Agád moved forward, unlatching the sheepskin from his belt, and handed it to his leader. Uncorking the top the Prince offered the drink to her. Nodding her head in gratitude Adalinda took the skin and brought the opening to her lips. She drank a healthy amount of water before returning the skin.
"Thank you, my lord."
He chuckled, "I am neither your lord nor prince. You do not hail from Wallachia nor are you a slave, servant or noblewoman of my land."
Adalinda nodded her head and smirked, "Indeed. Then what shall I call you?"
"What would you call me, my lady?"
"By your name, if you would give it to me."
A devious grin crept on his lips, "you may call me Vlad."
She leaned down, delighted by the faintest shiver he displayed just then. She drew her lips close to his ear, and touched the heated flesh, "and so I shall Vlad."