Niara's Tales: Bow of the Righteous

Notes: Darker we go, some readers may find the following chapter unpleasant. Tagging in particular for rape, violence and abuse.

-Niara

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A Hunter’s Stance: Endurance

Niara woke lying on her side, hands still bound behind her and her weapons gone. Struggling to turn over, she glance dup to see a dark sky, with a hint of stars poking out from between the thick clouds. It was well into the night now; she must have been out for hours. Her head throbbed and even moving her jaw caused a nasty ache in her right temple.

It was a cell of some sort, no more than a few metres across, with the thick stone walls of the old fort on three sides. The fourth had a metal grate set into it, looking as old as the fort itself, but still woefully solid. There was a chain and lock on the gate that looked much newer. A short way beyond, a stretch of crates and boxes obscured her view of anything else, but she could still hear snippets of quiet conversation beyond. One in particular caught her ear.

“Fancy something as nice as that just up and presenting herself to us like that, eh? What’re the odds? Can’t wait ‘til the fun starts, it’s been far too long.” The voice was barely on the other side of the boxes, by the sound of it.
“Hah, knowing the boss, I’m just surprised he decided to wait. Not like it makes much difference whether she’s awake or not… not really.” The other voice was right by the first, and Niara’s repulsed horror mounted as she listened.
“Shows you don’t really know our boss too well on that score then. He’s particular about these things, got a thing for it, he does. He likes to see ‘em and hear ‘em, watch their eyes as he… you know. I think he enjoys watching them suffer, and seeing ‘em break more than he does actually sticking it in.”
“That’s a bit… ehh… twisted, isn’t it?”
“Maybe, but it’s not like any of us are in a position to comment, are we? Besides, I heard him talking to Cliff earlier… Farm girl, young, no wedding band or betrothal mark… He reckons there’s a good chance she’s a virgin to boot, and he’d never miss a chance like that.” Niara tried to school her face to smoothness, but the revulsion rising up in her made her feel physically ill. They were monsters, every one of them.
“You don’t say? You know, we could always pop in and check up on that… it’s not like she’d know or anything.” There was the sound of one of them cuffing the other.
“You idiot. Of course she’d bleeding well know, how thick are you? And he’d know too, somehow, and it ain’t worth your life or mine to risk it. Let her sleep, it’ll probably be the last rest the poor bitch gets for days, maybe weeks if she doesn’t break easy, or die. And even if she does break, it’s not like it’ll help her…”
“How’d you mean?”
“You weren’t around yet, for the last time, but think about it… He’s making them suffer, breaking them down until they accept any one of us doing whatever we please with them, whenever we please, and no complaints. But imagine that there was a girl like that about, eh? The boss might not find a girl like that very entertaining at all, if you follow. Last girl’s spirit broke in a couple of days, and a few days after that, he killed her by accident, trying to get a real response out of her.”

Niara swallowed, feeling sick to the pit of her stomach. Perhaps they were talking like that nearby, just to scare her. Perhaps not. Well, none of them would touch her if she could do anything about it. She flexed her fingers, trying to find the tie on her bindings. She could feel the knots, if only she could see. After a moment of struggling, an idea came to her and she curled up tight, sliding her wrists under her boots and up to her front. Much better. Working carefully with her fingertips and teeth, the bindings soon came undone, and she stood, being as silent as she could. How to get out? Old as they were, the walls were still sheer, high and unscaleable, which only left the gate, and beyond that the fort full of brigands. They’d shoot her dead before she got ten steps, no doubt, even if she could get out of the cell. Damnit, what then? In frustration she punched the wall, then immediately wished she hadn’t as the conversation outside stopped. A moment later two men appeared on the other side of the door. Niara stared at them, willing the pair to burst into flame, but it didn’t have the desired effect.

“Up and about then? Poor you. I’ll get the boss.” They disappeared, but were only gone for a short while, returning with the leader she’d seen before. He was smiling in a way that made her believe everything she’d heard, twirling a key over his fingers. Still watching her eyes intently, he thrust it hard into the padlock, smirking in the brief pause that followed, then twisted it, pulling chain and lock free and tossing the whole lot to one of his lackeys. As he began to open the gate, Niara rushed, throwing herself against it hard, hoping to stun him long enough to get past. The gate slammed open easily, but he was no longer behind it. She only had time to catch a glimpse of his smile before his hand struck her throat, throwing her back to the floor of the cell, hacking and gasping for air. She scrambled to her feet, backing off as he entered the cell with her.

“Nice try, beautiful. Got some fight in you then? How about I make you a deal then? One on one, fair fight, no weapons. You beat me, here in this cell, and none of my boys will lay a finger on you. You can walk out of here, and go on hunting those worthless curs you’re so fixed on.” He turned as he spoke, slipping the war-hammer off his back and casually stripping off the rest of his weapons, even down to his boot knives. All were passed through the bars, the leer never leaving his face. She was sure he’d never make such a show of it if she had even the faintest hope of winning, but what choice did she have? He had stripped off his shirt as well, showing off a well muscled torso as he stretched.
“Come on then, sweetness. Fight for your freedom, or lose it fair and square.” He flexed his fingers, the raised them as fists in a low, confident stance.
“You aren’t giving me a choice, you inhuman filth” She raised her own guard, defensive, trying to watch for his movements. They came in a flurry a moment later, as he closed the distance between them in an instant. She blocked his first punch, aimed high, but even as she did his other fist slammed into her gut. She barely had time to register the savage blow as he twisted out of her line of sight, before a second impact crashed into the back of her skull, sending her sprawling. As she pushed herself up on shaky arms, he was there again, and another hammer blow struck down between her shoulder blades, thrusting her back to the ground with a pained grunt. Laughter reached her as she gradually picked herself up, trying to ignore the throbbing pains where he’d struck her.
“You’ll have to do better than that, dear. Come on, on your feet!” She glared up at him as she rose.
“Sick bastard.” She cursed at him through clenched teeth, then rushed, striking out at him as fast as she could. She flowed from fist, to elbow to shoulder with each strike, just to keep the onslaught up, but nothing could get through even then as he blocked, deflected or dodged every attack with an almost casual ease.

Suddenly, she felt her fist grabbed in a powerful grip and twisted down. She heard herself cry out at the sharp pain, then again as the same treatment befell her other arm. A moment later, her feet were swept out from under her and her back hit the ground hard. Her wrists were pinned to the floor over her head as he appeared above her, eyes burning. Desperately she tried to kick away, but she found her legs forced apart by his even as she struggled. A pained howl tore from her throat as he slammed her knees to the ground either side of her, tears springing to her eyes as the muscles in her thighs and groin screamed at the forced stretch. Pain flooded through her as he pinned her down completely and she thrashed violently against his hold. There was nothing she could do; he was just too fast, too strong.

“Ahhh, yes… that’s beautiful. Show me your pain, your fear.” There was a sheen of sweat on his chest, and his breathing was heavy. Despair threatened to outweigh her rage as he pulled her hands together and bound them tightly with the same cords she had escaped before. Almost like he’d planned it. She thrashed again, but even with one hand, the fingers holding her wrists still felt like solid iron. This couldn’t happen, she had to stop it somehow.
“Aghh… let me up, you bastard! I swear I’ll kill you. Let me… ugh… go!” She could feel helpless, angry tears on her face, and tried to look away, but rough fingers grabbed hold of her forehead, two of them pulling her eyelids open and forcing her to look at him.
“Oh no, bitch, you’re mine now. Let me see those eyes, show me your soul; I want to see it. You’re beaten, helpless, and you know what’s coming next, and you know there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” The excited fire in his eyes sent lances of horror through every corner of her mind, and her struggles redoubled. Nothing helped, and the monster leaned back slightly, lifting his free hand and clicking once. A moment later, he caught something to him by someone outside the cell, and her eyes fell on the blade of a short knife, glinting in the torchlight.

Atop her, he twirled the knife through his fingers expertly then, in a flash, struck down. Her heart lurched as she felt the blade against her chest, but he was still smiling at her. The slice had severed the ties on her shirt and cut the fabric about halfway down, and well as cutting through her breastband, but had only left a light score on her skin, a thin red graze the length of her breastbone. It burned and tingled as he pulled aside the ruined fabric to expose her breasts, groping one roughly as he watched her struggle against him. She was crying and sobbing as she writhed underneath him, unable to stop herself, and he gorged on her distress.
“Stop it,” she heard her voice beg in uneven, cracked tones. “Please, don’t.” He pressed the flat of the knife against her cheek.
“Don’t what, beautiful? There are so many things I can do to you.” The knife trailed down to rest on the top of her right breast. “Will I mark you as mine, perhaps? Carve my ownership of you across these lovely breasts, so you will forever be reminded of your place?” Niara shook her head vehemently, begging denials between sobs. “No? No, not now. But I will, sweet, if you misbehave too much when I don’t want you to. Think about it, sitting here, just like this, as I cut into your skin, letter by letter, while you cry and scream, completely helpless to stop me. Think about it, and show me your eyes, so I know you understand.” He held them open again, pressing her head back against the floor as he watched her. He sneered at her, even as she tried hard not to imagine the picture he painted. “Or maybe you’ll be more trouble than you’re worth, hmm?” The knife moved again, positioned this time between her ribs over the far side of her chest, pointed at her heart. “I might decide to kill you right now, nothing you can do about it if I do. You might even beg me to end it all for you, soon enough. We’ll see.”

He moved on, lower, and her struggles grew increasingly violent again as he turned the knife to begin cutting at the crotch of her leggings. She spat and cursed and screamed, but he sliced relentlessly, cutting away first the leather, then the lighter fabric of her undergarment, until she could feel herself exposed to him completely. Her whole body trembled as she felt the cold flat of the knife pressed against the tender skin of her sex. It was gone a moment later as he eagerly set to undoing the ties at his waist. She squeezed her eyes shut, looking away while she could. The sobs that wracked her body didn’t disguise the shift of his weight though, as his knees crushed her thighs down more firmly and he leaned forward, moving into position. She moaned another denial, no hint of actual hope left in her ragged voice as she felt a throbbing mass pressed against her. Rough fingers groped around for a moment before spreading her lips wide and allowing him to push forward to the verge of her entrance. Her eyes were forced open again, head turned towards him. His face was close now, as he waited, poised above her, watching her face intently.
“Please stop,” she choked out “I’m begging you… Please don’t do this to me.” She could feel his hot, heavy breathing on her face.
“Spoils of victory, girl. You can scream if you want to.”

He thrust into her in a single, hard motion, pressing into her unprepared passage with brute force. She did scream, a horrible wracked sound that ripped from her lungs as he violated her. It hurt, light, how it hurt, but he didn’t slow, pulling out all the way, and forcing in again, and again, hard, unforgiving motions that tore at her with every thrust. Her eyes burned as she cried and screamed, writhing against the pain and defilement of her body, still unable to turn her face from his eyes, alight with ecstasy as he watched her torment, but there was no respite. Her throat was hoarse, eyes red and sore, her struggles weak and exhausted before he finally reached his climax, convulsing roughly against her. She had no more strength to respond to the new layer of revulsion as she felt his seed pumping into her, and managed only a weak, shaky moan. He watched her for a few more moment, smirking and panting, before she felt him pull out of her at last, wiping himself nonchalantly on the end of her shirt.

As he stood and walked to the bars, he stretched and took a long drink from a skin that one of them passed to him. Niara felt the indignant rage and fury returning, and slowly, painfully, began to climb to her feet. She would not be seen beaten or broken, not even like this. Her body was more exhausted than it ever had been, and all of her limbs shook and trembled as she struggled up. It was only the anger burning through her that lent her strength enough to stand. Her captor turned, refastening his pants, and laughed as he watched her.
“That’s the spirit, Little Whore! Murderous, aren’t you? Stay that way; you’ll last longer.” Before she realised what he was doing, he moved again, far faster than her tired and abused body could ever react to. He stepped forward and twisted, one leg flying out to strike like a battering ram in her gut. She crashed back against the wall of the cell before crumpling to the floor, coughing and retching as she threw up what little she’d eaten in the past day.

In a daze, she felt someone grab her under one armpit and pull her, half dragged, half stumbling, from the cell and up a slope, out into the open courtyard of the fort. She was thrust forward, rolling over and sliding on the ground for a few feet.
“All yours, boys! Enjoy yourselves. You know the rules, anyone damages her and they’ll answer to me. Don’t have too much fun, we’ve work to do tomorrow; you’d all better get your beauty sleep.” There was a rough murmur of cheer and Niara tried to get away, but lacked the strength to even lift herself off the ground properly, let alone escape. Hands were grabbing at her moments later and she fought against them, though her assailants barely noticed her efforts. She felt one of them force his way between her legs and into her body while others held her down and groped at her fiercely. When he finished, he was replaced by another, then a third. There was no end to it. In her mind she cried, screamed and raged as the abuse continued, though her eyes had no more tears, her throat no more voice. After a while she was pulled to her feet, then thrust forward, bent over a stack of crates and the violations continued, taking her from behind now. The torment went on for over an hour as they repositioned her every so often, before her mind and body gave out and she lapsed into black, dreamless unconsciousness.

The sky was beginning to lighten when her senses returned. Her body ached all over, the painful stiffness in her limbs only a beginning. Her eyes were sore and puffy, and the scratch on her chest tingled uncomfortably. The mass of forming bruises on her breasts, middle and back all clamoured for attention, but the aching, pulled muscles in her thighs cried louder. Worse still, though her groin still burned uncomfortably, bruised and hurting, the sharp sting of torn and damaged skin around her rear made her shudder at the thought of what else they might have subjected her unconscious body to. There was a foul taste in her mouth, and she feared she knew exactly what it was.

Her body was still in a standing position, largely, with her arms up above her head, taking much of her weight. She opened her eyes to see rough bark. She was fastened to a tree in the courtyard, not far from the very one she had fallen from an eternity ago, her arms pulled up and around the trunk, tied together on the other side, over a high branch. There was a thick cord connecting her ankles as well, also looped around the back of the tree. So she couldn’t kick out at anyone, she supposed. It felt like her clothes had been damaged further, her shirt split all the way now, hanging open more like a vest, and barely serving to cover her at all. Her leggings, too, had been cut and torn further, and while the legs themselves were still largely intact, they were connected to the waist band now only by a few strong seams, leaving her groin and behind completely exposed to any who looked. She spat a few times, trying to get the horrible taste out of her mouth.

“Awake then, is it? That’s good, much longer and I’d have fallen asleep waiting.” The voice, a short distance away, made her freeze, willing it to be just her imagination. It wasn’t. There was someone close behind her moments later, one hand on her shoulder, another on her hip. She shuddered under the touch.
“Please…” she whispered, her voice raspy, “leave me alone.” There was a quiet chuckle and the hand at her hip moved to squeeze her behind.
“Sorry, Little Whore, change of guard, you know. Missed out before, on watch, and besides, passed out just doesn’t do it for me, so I’ll take my due now instead.” A part of her wanted to burst into tears again, but she grit her teeth instead, staring hard at the tree bark in front of her eyes. The hand on her rear slipped underneath her, and the ties on her ankles wouldn’t let her close her legs enough to resist him. Thick, indelicate fingers probed her until one found her entrance and pushed inside. She suppressed a grunt, trying to ignore the discomfort as the finger remained inside, marking the spot. It was replaced moments later by a larger intrusion and this tie she couldn’t help but cry out as he thrust in. The skin was so sore and tender, she couldn’t take any more abuse. Her cry was cut off even so, the hand gripping her shoulder lifting to shove her forehead against the tree quickly.
“Oi, hush, Little Whore, or you’ll wake the others.” Her head throbbed, but at least it drew some of the focus away from his attentions at her groin. She squeezed her eyes shut, opening and clenching her fingers as she struggled to suppress the grunts and gasps brought on by his settling rhythm. His chest pushed against her as he moved, pressing her tight against the tree. Her shirt proved poor protection against the rubbing of the rough bark, and it soon became another pain she fought to endure. Her jaw hurt from clenched teeth and there were tears on her cheeks again by the time he finished. As he walked away, leaving his vile fluid leaking from her body, she trembled, caught between rage and helpless despair.

Most of the camp behind her was obscured from sight, but she could make out the sleeping forms of many men scattered roughly about the open area. She couldn’t seem much of the ruin grounds, but it seemed like most of the men, besides the two guards on the outer walls, kept to the top two levels, set against the high rock walls that the fort nestled between. If she could only get free, the ruined masonry scattered about the grounds would give her enough cover to make her escape. She couldn’t count them properly, but there were no more than twenty, surely, probably less, and the fort was large. They couldn’t possibly thoroughly without leaving gaps. She struggled to get a better look around.

“You should rest while you can, you poor girl. Don’t expect them to leave you alone for long.” Niara flinched initially, but hesitated as she registered the voice properly. It was female for one thing, and the words were spoken softly, and quiet. The woman came into her line of sight a few seconds later, arms folded across her breasts. She had long brown hair and was dressed in the same rough leather and fur as many of the other bandits. She leaned on a tree just in front of Niara.
“The first night might have been the worst all at once, but they’ll likely not be so uniform any more either. Each of ’em will come to you whenever he feels like, and you may not get a decent stretch to sleep for a while, except when the whole bands out, of course.”
“Who are you?” The other woman shook her head.
“We’ve all got names, girl, but who here do you think actually uses theirs? Take our boss, for example: folk call him Cameron, and Cameron the Lightning, by reputation, but what his mother would call him, well, who can say? Call me Thorns, everyone else here does. Here,” she stepped forward, lifting something to Niara’s lips. Bread, rough and hard, and a little stale. Niara couldn’t eat it fast enough. Next there were a few strips of salted meat that felt like a feast to her drained body.
“Drink.” A water skin was held up to her mouth long enough for her to gulp several mouthfuls. Thorns stepped back again.

“Don’t worry, they will feed you, enough to survive anyway, but you look like you were already stretched far too thin before you got here.” She rubbed the back of her neck, then glanced past Niara to the sleeping forms beyond. “Listen, and listen good, girl. You’ve got skill, you’re combat trained, and you’re smarter than a bunch of orcs, at least, so let me give you some advice. I’ve been where you are now, and you can survive it, and him. He’ll tire of you eventually, don’t doubt it, and when he does you’ll wind up dead. Before that happens, you’ll have to convince him that you’re more useful alive. He’s not stupid, but convince him you’re worth it as a warrior for him and he won’t kill you.” She looked off to the side for a moment. “Took months before he’d let me walk free in the camp, a year before I could safely say no to the other men, and I still lie with him any time he wants, whenever he wants, however he wants. It’s liveable, though.” Niara could scarcely believe what she was hearing.

“If you’ve been here before, then just let me go, please.” Again the woman shook her head, eyes closed.
“Can’t do that. Valued or not, trusted or not, it’s not worth my life to let you go, and that’s what it would cost me. Stay strong, be smart, and you might make it.”
“I’ll kill him, I swear it, I’ll kill him.” Niara hissed through clenched teeth as she other woman moved to leave. She stopped next to where Niara was tied, gripping her shoulder for a moment with a small squeeze.
“No, sweetie, you won’t. But if you keep your wits about you, you may live. Try to sleep.” As she left, Niara hung her head, leaning against the tree.

She did manage to sleep again, for a few hours until the sun rose, woken by the sound of activity behind her. Craning her neck, she could see Cameron standing on the upper level, chewing an end of bread in between calling out instructions. It sounded like they were making a raid somewhere.
“Gregor, Cliff, lock Little Whore up again while we’re out, and give her something to eat.” Two men approached after he spoke and the taller one reached up to begin unbinding her wrists. The other ducked down to undo her ankle bindings but, as he did, he raised one hand to push two fingers unceremoniously into her vagina.
“Morning, Little Whore,” he snickered as she let out a sharp yelp, shocked and indignant. Her hand came free a moment later and she swung down fiercely, striking him in the face. He cursed as he fell backwards and the other man chuckled, though he quickly took a firm hold of both her wrists all the same. Between them they manhandled her back down to the small cell from the previous night, caught between cursing and laughing at each other whenever she struggled free enough to strike at them. Despite her effort, they locked the gate on her and disappeared. A minute later one oft hem returned, tossing some food between the bars, similar to what Thorns had slipped her earlier. By the time she had swallowed the last of it, the fort had gone quiet. She wondered if they’d all left and called out to see. A voice answered from nearby.

“Aye, Little Whore, aye. One or two of us always stays behind.” The owner of the voice was a short, wiry man with a shock of blonde hair and a spiked mallet on his belt, who came to stand on the other side of the bars. He grinned at her. “Folk call me Yellow, on account of the hair. We met last night, but I don’t think you were awake.” Niara shuddered, her hands balling into fists.
“You come near me and I’ll skin you, you disgusting creature, you hear me?” She braced herself in a fighting stance, even though she still ached all over. On the other side of the bars, Yellow waved a hand dismissively.
“Relax, Little Whore. Boss’s rules; long as you’re locked away in there, he’ll be the only one touching you. I’d say you learn not to break Cameron’s rules right quick around here, but you don’t learn; you break his rules, you die, simple as that. You’re safe for now, but we’ll have you singing a different tune when they get back later.” He grinned at her again before wandering away, out of sight.

Left to her own devices at last, Niara leaned against the wall of her cell and tried to think. Try as she might, there just didn’t seem to be anything she could do; at every moment she would be locked up or tied down, or, she slammed a fist angrily against the wall, being used by one or many of them. Her tiny cell had noting but a bucket and a couple of empty crates in it, and while she could probably get a makeshift weapon out of them, it would be no use without a way out.

She ought to at least check herself over properly, now that she wasn’t tied up. Carefully, she stripped off the remnants of her clothes and examined her body. She was a mass of bruises by now, the dark blotches covering her breasts and middle, as well as patterning much of her thighs and behind. The graze on her chest had scabbed lightly, but it concerned her. If only they’d give her some clean water to wash with. Sitting gingerly on one of the crates, she propped one foot up on the edge as well to examine her nethers with gentle fingers. As she feared, the skin was torn raw and badly bruised in several places, sore now even to her most delicate touches, but provided no more damage was done, and that she didn’t take infection, everything would still heal up in time, she was sure. Even so, sore as it was to her own, careful touch, their attentions would likely have her screaming again before long. She stopped, staring blankly at the wall for a moment, stunned by the realisation of what she was accepting in her mind. She would be raped again, and again, probably a great many more times before this was over. It was repugnant, but it was unavoidably true and she was accepting the fact. So be it. She squared her shoulders, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“With vengeance as my oath, Béma, I will endure, and hunt again.” She murmured quietly, almost shocked by the weight of her words, and her resolve in speaking them nonetheless, but the promise lent her fresh determination and she lay down to rest, and wait.

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