AN: I just want to apologize...I know I mentioned a while back that I thought this would be up within days of the original post, but real life kind of dumped a bunch of stuff on me the day after my last post (part of it is my job--I work in retail and the day after Thanksgiving is probably the biggest shopping day in the United States). But I'm still here! And here's the next chapter!
Warning: violence in this chapter...not too graphic, I hope, but I just wanted to give you a head's-up.
Chapter Thirty-Seven: A Deepening Shade
There were five left now.
The thought slowly entered Legolas' mind as he fought to keep his feet. Only five, and Thilator was no longer among them. He doubted that the rest of the men were as skilled as Corben, and it had really only been grief that had given the man strength against Thilator.
The only problem would be the rope trailing from his wrists, but perhaps he could even use that to his advantage. He managed to quicken his pace enough to grasp a bit of the rope in one hand, despite the painful numbness spreading to his fingers.
A quick glance assured him that Corben's attention was elsewhere, and that none of the other men were behind him. One was still pulling the travois, and two others were discussing something in quiet voices a few paces away.
Bracing his heels against the earth, Legolas gave a sharp pull on the rope.
The man who had been leading him obvious had not been expecting such a tactic, and let out a cry of surprise as the rope was pulled from his hand. His cry alerted the others, but before they could reach him Legolas had whipped the rope around and caught him across the face, leaving a stinging welt under the man's eye.
Legolas threw his shoulder against another attacker, knocking him back a pace, and struck another with his bound hands. He whipped the rope around again as one of the men made a grab for it, managing to flip it into the air and catch most of it in his hands.
A blow against his side caught him by surprise as he was driven to the ground by one of the men. He scrabbled against his opponent, but a large fist struck him on the side of the face and left him dazed for a moment.
He was hauled to his feet with an arm around his neck as the rope was pulled out of his hands. Legolas kicked out, choking as the grip around his neck tightened. His vision was beginning to grow hazy, his limbs heavy, and he clawed at the arm around his neck as he began to slowly suffocate.
"That's enough, Joren."
The man holding Legolas released him, and the elf collapsed to his knees gagging and gasping for breath.
"We are not trying to kill you, Elf," Corben commented, crouching to be at eye level with Legolas. "No matter what you think of us, we are not trying to kill you. What good would you be if you were dead? We would get no ransom for you then."
"What assurance to I have that you will let me live if you do get a ransom?" Legolas rasped, meeting Corben's eyes with a glare. He was tired of being hauled around like a piece of baggage...tired of being threatened, and of being treated like some ignorant child. But most of all, he was just tired.
"None."
Legolas snorted. "Then what reason do I have to cooperate?" he asked, glancing over to where the travois that held Carmian's body was still resting on the ground. "Your brother could not compel my cooperation...what makes you believe I will listen to you?"
Corben's eyes darkened at the mention of his brother. "You will not speak of him," he spat out, grabbing a handful of Legolas' tunic. "You know not of who you speak, Elf!"
He bit back an angry retort, knowing this was not the moment to argue with Corben. For a moment the man glared at him, eyes dark with fury. Then Corben shoved him away, standing up and stalking away to speak with one of the other men.
"I know more than you think," Legolas murmured, lowering his head with a sigh.
"Hold him."
Legolas' head snapped back up, and he found himself facing Corben again. The man's eyes were still furious, the light in them a mixture of grief and hatred. He was holding Thilator's whip in one hand, carefully uncoiling it and letting the braided leather rest on the ground.
The man behind Legolas suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders, twisting him around and forcing him down toward the ground. He tried to fight, but Joren was too strong and in a moment the man was pressing his face into the soft earth, kneeling on his bound hands.
One hand rested on the back of his head, keeping him from twisting in any direction, and the other was clamped around his upper arm with bruising strength.
He tried to curl up to give himself some leverage against the man holding his arms, but another set of hands grabbed his ankles and wrestled him still until he lay flat on his stomach. Heart pounding, he could only listen as Corben's footsteps came closer. If only he had not been weakened by his ordeal...it would have taken almost no effort to free himself had he not been weary and beaten already.
Corben cracked the whip in the air experimentally. "Have you ever felt the sting of one of these?" he asked, the tone of his voice slightly taunting. "I did once...Thilator saw to that. The pain can be excruciating."
There was a sharp whistling hiss, and Legolas flinched briefly as pain lanced through his back. Joren's weight shifted slightly, and he felt the man tear the back of his tunic open, baring his skin to the cool air.
He heard the whip descend again, and this time the pain seemed to tear through him. Wave after wave struck, and after a few moments he realized Corben was shouting something though he could not understand the man through his pain-induced daze. He had not the strength to fight anymore as the whip fell relentlessly, clenching his teeth so as not to give his tormentor the pleasure of hearing him cry out in pain.
A man shouted, and the pressure against his legs was suddenly gone. Before Legolas could understand why the whip sliced across his legs, and he fought to curl himself up for some protection.
Corben was still shouting, frenzied, his attack relentless. Legolas' mind was edged in shadowy darkness, his consciousness rapidly fading in light of the abuse on his body.
Suddenly, the whip's attack stopped. The weight on his hands was gone as well, and he no longer sensed Joren looming over him.
Pain exploded in his side as a boot made contact with his stomach. He choked off a whimper, curling into himself as best as he could as he was kicked again.
He thought he felt something crack as the boot collided a third time, then all was blackness as his consciousness finally fled.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Joren had been content to allow his friend to punish the elf, but now he grabbed Corben's arm and pulled him away.
"Release me."
He ignored the venom in the younger man's eyes, shaking his head. "You will kill him if you continue."
"Should this concern me?"
"How will we get ransom for him if he is dead?" Joren retorted. "I know you are angry over Carmian's death."
"He was my brother!"
"And he was my friend," Joren placed a hand on Corben's shoulder in an attempt to calm him. "But this...if you kill him now Carmian's death will have been for nothing. Our people will still starve."
Corben pulled away from Joren's grasp. "Have it your way," he sneered. "We continue on our journey...drag the elf."
With a sigh, Joren bent down and hefted the unconscious elf onto his shoulders. "We will move faster if I carry him," he explained to Corben's dark glance. "He will walk as soon as he is conscious," he added in reassurance.
He followed as Corben set the pace, somewhat slower than when they'd been leading the elf. Joren was grateful—though his burden was strangely light, it would be more difficult to keep his feet while carrying the prisoner.
Joren stumbled, grunting as he hefted the elf a bit higher on his shoulders, feeling a slight twinge in what was left of his conscience as he considered what sort of havoc this might be wreaking on the elf's injuries. He hoped his wife would forgive him if she learned of this, though he did not plan on telling her how they got the money the ransom would bring.
Isbeth would not have approved of kidnapping, nor would she have stood by while Corben whipped the elf more out of grief and anger than any need for punishment. She was always so concerned about nobility, about acting as though they were more than hunters and farmers.
Like her mother, Alira, Isbeth was convinced of some old prophecies of a king and insisted that this very year could be his return. Joren did not think her stories held much merit, but they had kept his wife living in hope despite disease and famine and the death of their child just last year.
Joren, however, could not believe. Isbeth might turn their children's heads with her tales and stories, but Joren knew the cold truth.
If there was any long-lost king, he was never returning.
Shrugging his burden higher, Joren doggedly followed Corben. If there was truly any hope for his people, it was the young man leading them now.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Something seemed to stir in the air, and Estel froze. Eliam was a few steps ahead of him and turned to regard the young man, concern dancing in his features.
"What is it?"
Estel shook his head. "I thought I felt something..." his voice trailed off and he glanced up. His eyes widened in realization.
It was the trees. The air was still about them, but the trees were rustling. It was almost unnoticeable, but Estel had lived among the elves for most of his life and had seen things like this before.
Thus he was not surprised when they heard feet approaching through the forest to their left, though there was no trail there.
"Get down...hide!" he hissed at Eliam, diving into a bit of dense undergrowth and pulling his walking stick with him. He burrowed into the leaves as best he could, watching as Eliam concealed himself behind a tree.
Estel's body tensed as he watched the trees for signs of the approaching beings. A man struggled into view, his face somewhat familiar to Estel. He was followed by another man dragging a travois with a long bundle, and Estel's heart nearly stopped as he recognized the next face.
It was Corben, but there was no sign of Carmian or Thilator...or Legolas.
As he watched two more men broke through onto the path, and Estel clamped his lips shut as a gasp nearly escape.
Legolas was slung across one man's shoulders...whether dead or unconscious Estel did not know.
"Corben."
The young man glanced back, walking toward the man carrying Legolas as the rest of the party stopped in their tracks. "He's awake?"
The other man nodded, slowly lowering the elf to the ground.
Estel's stomach clenched and he shut his eyes for a moment, fighting a wave of nausea as he saw for the first time the damage done to his friend. He was only a few yards away from Legolas, and could see that the elf's face was badly bruised and his back a mess of blood and torn skin.
Corben propped Legolas up, leaning him back against the man who had been carrying him and uncorked a small flask. He tipped the contents into the semi-conscious elf's mouth, laughing as Legolas began coughing and spluttering.
"My brother's own homemade brew," Corben sneered. "He used to say it would make any boy into a man...let's see if it will keep you on your feet."
Legolas shook his head, apparently still slightly dazed. "W-where..."
The elf's weak question was cut off when Corben backhanded him. "No questions. On your feet. We're still moving." He grabbed Legolas by the arm and hauled him to his feet, shoving him forward with a sneer when the elf staggered. "Keep the pace or we drag you," Corben snarled, yanking on the long rope that was tied to Legolas' bound wrists.
Estel winced when he saw how the rope had torn into his friend's skin. He longed to help his friend, but knew that to strike now would only mean his capture. Perhaps if he and Eliam continued to follow them, they would be able to slowly take out the other members of the party and rescue Legolas.
A twig suddenly snapped in the woods, and Estel turned his gaze with the rest of the men toward the place where Eliam had concealed himself.
"There's someone out there," Corben growled. "Find him!"
Fighting the impulse to run, Estel forced himself to lie still in the underbrush as the other four men rushed toward Eliam's hiding place, leaving Corben to guard the prisoner. Any movement of his would alert the men to his presence...and he did not relish being taken prisoner again.
He heard a shout, and in a moment the men reappeared dragging Eliam with him. "We found this hiding in the trees," one snarled, shoving Eliam toward Corben.
Corben's face darkened, and he stomped over toward Eliam dragging an unwilling Legolas with him. "Traitor!"
Eliam was shaking his head. "I could not...you know I hold no love for the elves, but I could not let you harm an innocent boy."
"You turned your back on my brother. He trusted you, and now he is dead!"
Eliam paled. "Dead?"
"Murdered by that treacherous elf."
Estel started, his eyes automatically glancing toward Legolas who looked like he was about to collapse. No, he inwardly shook his head. Legolas would be dead if he had killed Carmian. Corben had to be referring to Thilator.
"Carmian is dead?" Eliam asked, his voice soft and full of disbelief.
"Yes, dead. Thilator as well; I killed him with my own hands."
Eliam was shaking now. "And the prince?"
"To be ransomed. Had you stayed with us, Eliam, you would have seen that we meant no harm to the boy. Carmian had even planned on taking him with us. He would have made a fine addition to our village."
Even from his position, Estel could tell that Corben was lying. Neither of the brothers had held anything but contempt for him, and he thought he would most likely have been dead by now had Legolas not insisted he escape.
"It is a shame," Corben continued, tossing the rope to another man and pulling out his knife. "My brother held you in high esteem."
Eliam's eyes widened and he backed away, shaking his head. "Corben?"
"You know the vow we all took. You know the price of your betrayal."
"But I did not betray you," Eliam insisted, his voice tight with fear as one of the other men grabbed him from behind. "I did not!"
Estel could not see Corben's expression, but he had a full view of Eliam's terrified eyes. "It was the price we all agreed on, Eliam."
"No! Corben, I can help you!"
Estel grimaced at the desperation in the man's voice, but Eliam's next declaration made his blood run cold.
"Let me help you! I can tell you where the boy is! He's right here!"
Reviews? Flames? Tar and Feathers?
MWAHAHAHAHA! (sorry...the delay between this and the next chapter shouldn't be so long, though...I hope)
AN: All right...slightly off-topic here. Anyway, if you're interested in the sequel to Bad Company, go link to my homepage (still under overhaul) and check out the "previews" link on the bottom of the right-hand side. You can see summaries of the next three action/drama stories I have planned, and under the summary for An Impossible Choice there is a link to a rough draft of the first chapter.