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Fire

21 Dec

Angelisha sighed as Jacob ignored her attempts at play, and instead watched the snow fall outside, warmed only by red fire and Anghelisha’s always-ready body.  The large man sighed as cold began to cause tiredness, and wiped ice from his beard and eyelashes. “We should go back.” he murmured, but did not move.  His knees felt frozen in place after hours standing in one position.

Behind him, the young slave woman nodded. “Probably.” She huffed. “You wouldn’t be so cold if you let me warm you.”  She cocked her shoulders to one side and crossed her arms under her breasts in an effort to push the flesh up and increase her paltry cleavage.

“You’re too young for such a thing.” He frowned. “You’re youthful enough to be my daughter, Anghie.” Slowly, the man rose.  His face contorted into a grimace as his joints protested.  For several moments, his legs were numb, before icy daggers stabbed into every inch of the flesh.

“What difference does it make?  My time ticks, and you have no sons.” Anghelisha slid a hand down to her lower abdomen and smacked the flat surface.  She glared at him, her eyes smoldering with irritation.  She stomped one of her dainty feet on the frozen stone, unconcerned for the painful shock of impact and cold.

“Nor will I.  I will not marry you, Anghelisha, and I will not sire a bastard.  I will do as I told my friend I would do– I will care for you like a daughter.” He glared briefly, then shook his head and ran a thick-fingered hand through his thinning hair. “Let’s head back.”

The small woman frowned for a moment before she grinned wickedly as her eyes lit with wickedness. “Don’t bother, they’re all going to die.” Her voice was like a knife that stabbed at Jacob’s heart.

“Nonsense.” He shook his head, trying to dismiss her claims. “We have warmth now, and I have stores of food and a few pans.  We’ll all be fine.” She was just being silly, right?  Her unknown past, and the fact she was born in the region did little to reinforce his idea that she was just trying to childishly get her way, as she had done before in the past with as little shame as she displayed now.

The woman shook her head firmly, yellow hair whipping and bouncing like a spilled box of springs. “None of those are the problem.” She grabbed his wrist as he turned to leave and yanked him to her side, her fingernails digging into his flesh. “The problem is that they are going to be killed, and you are not.” She smiled at him, her expression sweeter than the candies she often stole back home.

“What?  We have to go back and save them!” He began to feel panic, and his voice wavered as he turned from her and tried to pull away, but she yanked him back to herself once more, with strength that he didn’t expect someone her size to possess.

“They’re already dead.  Every single one of them.” She laughed. “They were horrid people, anyway.  You saw how the older ones looked at you.  They all wanted you dead, probably so they could each fuck me.” Her eyes narrowed, suspicion on her face. “You would have just let them rape me, wouldn’t you?  Probably charged them, even!”

“No, they weren’t, and none of them wanted you!” He grabbed her wrist and squeezed it until she cried out in pain, then dragged her back to the large, warm room with him.  Through his mind, he saw images of blood and gore.  Two children screamed in his mind as they tried to crawl on the cold stone to the hallway.  His steps sped up.  A couple, newly engaged to wed, were drawn and quartered.  Tears began to burn at his eyes as he blinked them back.  He recalled the stories his father told him of the countless executions he performed in the name of bloody justice back in a country far away, before a kind noble boy sent him away.

He saw an image of an old woman trying desperately to protect her daughter and son-in-law.  A wire full of razors whipped through her body, and she fell, crying for aid.  His heart pounded in his ears as he sped up again.

At his side, Anghelisha screeched in rage as he pulled her, her face red with shame and anger.  She struggled against his grip and drove her fingernails into his thick flesh.  Red beads emerged as she did more and more damage to her master, and eventually he dropped her and ran back to the group alone, wrist bleeding heavily as he huffed and puffed.  Around him, his images became real, and he could not hear the shrieks of rage that came from the slave woman behind him.

At the man’s rear, Anghelisha snarled, and her eyes flashed red for a fraction of a moment.  She smothered her temper and slowly stood.  He was no longer useful.  He was no longer manipulated. At least it was easy to kill the ugly ones, and she might get the chance to see him mourn the loss of his beard.

The man finally arrived at the room the rest were in.  Jefroy and Mikkae held daggers as they stared in shock at the sweating fat man.

Jacob looked around, his expression confused. “But she said…” He stared at each person in the room.  None were hurt, but all looked concerned and frightened. “I don’t understand, why would she say that?”

He didn’t even hear as the pat of feet approached from behind.  Anghelisha ran to catch up, her core low to the ground to give her added speed as she charged at her master.  Her expression was grim, and her body rigid with anticipation.

Mikkae’s eyes widened as he spotted the look of murder in the woman’s eyes, and he threw his dagger with all the strength he could muster.

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Posted by on December 21, 2012 in Semihistorical Fiction

 

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