Chapter 3

Amira was bundled back into the van and, she was placed on close watch and highly guarded.

They finally got to the Ajini village.

The women were put in the stern, where a crude tent was erected for them.

Other than that, they were left alone. The men had satisfied their blood lust and their carnal lust, and might not need to do so again. She wasn't sure if that yet.

All of the women had been raped, some many times, save for Amira, who remained unconscious from the blow she'd received while trying to escape.

There were seven prisoners in all; Dala  and cara , along with Enid and three other young girls from the village. Most of the men had been killed, except for those who managed to flee into the woods or those left gravely wounded who were not expected to last the night.

Before they where put in the tent, they where presented before a man whose piercing blue eyes drew her attention. He must be the king she presumed.

She was going to be a slave to this King she thought

Amira knew this, and it was an additional torture to her. She had failed to protect her people and she had failed to protect herself. Her defeat at the hands of the invaders, a man past his youthful prime, was the shameful blow she could not bear. Her hate for this one man surpassed all reason. He had rendered her helpless; he had struck her down. He was the reason why she was here, why her father was dead. He would pay for that, and for everything else.

The women were fed twice a day on dry codfish, ham or pickled meats, flat bread and butter. It was cold, dry food, which many could not keep down. Cara frequently dashed to the side of the ship to empty her stomach. The men found this amusing, and their laughter added to the women's shame.

Amira ate only to sustain her strength for the goal she had set for herself: to kill her captors . She would not speak to her companions or listen to their fearful wailings. Dala tried to comfort her, but she could not tolerate any kindness and would not even speak to her. Her shame was too great, her bitterness too new. Wisely, Dala gave up for the time being.

Guyy  came occasionally to look at Amira. He was a huge man with the girth of a bear. His hair was tawny-colored, as was the beard that covered his face, and he had dull brown  eyes. He wasn't a man to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies. When he looked at her curiously—almost admiringly, it seemed—she would meet his look with a venomous one, such open hostility and hatred in her eyes that he would walk away disgruntled.

Anselm almost regretted what he had done, but he would never admit it aloud. He had given his word of honor to the enemy. Yet there was no dishonor in breaking his word to his enemy—to a friend, yea, but not to the enemy.

When Amir looked at the young beauty, he was amused by her show of defiance. Her pride was equal to his own, but he wondered how long it would last. The thought of such a spirit being broken left a sweet taste in his mouth.

He remembered watching her fight the man she had wounded. He had thought her a slim young man, and was amazed at the skill with which she fought against such brute strength. It was a pleasure to watch such courage, which was prized among his people. He had been reluctant to kill her or even sell her off when she was brought  to him, but he could not lose any more of his men to her.

After her valiant effort and remarkable display of courage, Amir was disappointed to see her crumble. When she saw the old woman with the red hair die, she went berserk, screaming and screaming, her small fists pressed against her temples. Had she seen her father fall?

That wasn't what he should be worrying about now.

For now, he could only wonder about this Celtic beauty. She was a prize indeed, and he resolved to keep his men away from her. Her virginity made her an even better acquisition. Surely she would please him in bed.

Those of the men who were so inclined, raped the women again, but still they did not approach Amira with her look of wild hatred. Some thought she was mad.

Dala had great difficulty trying to calm the women when her own nerves were raw. She pleaded with seeing the state cara was reduced to. It was appalling that the young woman had not shed a single tear for the loss of her husband. Only hours earlier the fiery-headed Della had been boasting that she was not afraid of what the future held, so sure was she that every man aboard the ship, including the chieftain, desired her above all the others—especially since they left Amira alone.

She understood some of what Amira was going through, why she brooded silently, but thought this was no time for her to abdicate her leadership. A few brave words from Amira would lessen the others' fear. Cara was no help either, crying and screaming that the world was ending.

If Dala had not been so worried herself, she might almost have felt pleasure. She cringed, remembering her own ravishment by two of those brutes who had burst into the receiving room that fateful day. She had been bothered only once since then, by none other than the leader himself, who at least was not as rough with her as the younger men. It was actually a tender interlude, for she had lost the will to fight, and he was gentle in his way.

Still Dala prayed it would not happen again. There was nothing she could hope for from all of this, they had killed her husband and made her a widow.