Darkness Embraced Page 3

  “No...cry,” Dredd said in Islesh. His voice was gruff but his hand was gentle as he wiped away her tear. Ivy felt a lump in her throat. For some reason his concern over her tears only made her cry harder.

  Then she felt his weight lift off of her, and with another ground shattering punch to the rocky wall he left the cave. Ivy turned on her side, hot tears sliding down her cheek and onto the beat up fur blanket. She swiped at them, refusing to give in to her emotions. She was traumatized by everything that had happened since she left the Stronghold, but she acknowledged it could have been so much worse. An Ajax, the fabled monster of ShadowBorn legend, had untied her, provided her shelter, and had not raped her...yet. It was no fairy tale, but certainly better than she dared to hope the night would go. She was alive.

  Her next order of business would be to escape, and soon. Dredd hadn’t gone full monster on her yet, but it was brewing beneath the surface. The nightmare was not yet over. She could only hope her luck would hold out.

  Chapter 3

  Three days later, Ivy was no longer feeling so lucky. She and Dredd walked, and walked, and walked, until she was certain there was no end to the Dark Woods. He pushed on each day, having managed to communicate to her in broken Islesh that the Ajax believed she was something called the Vessel, and that he was the warrior to claim her. She wasn’t sure where he was taking her, but she believed it was to some sort of Ajax village. She followed along behind him like a puppy, mainly due to the fact that her two attempts to escape the first day had been giant failures and that as a result of said escape attempts he had tied her wrists and was pulling her along behind him.

  She tried to explain to Dredd she was no Vessel, that she was simply a ShadowBorn slave sacrificed to their unwavering stupidity, but he didn’t seem to care. Apparently her fate was preordained by some God of the Mountain or some such drivel.

  Her feet blistered by the end of the first day, the flimsy slippers provided to the Maiden Sacrifice not having been meant for journeys through rugged terrain. Ivy was sore and tired and in desperate need of a bath. But she continually reminded herself that she was free of the ShadowBorn, she was alive, and she owed some small measure of gratitude to the large, grumpy Ajax. More importantly she reminded herself that it would take time to earn his trust, so that she could successfully escape. After spending the better part of the first day trying to convince him to let her go, to no avail, it was time for a new plan.

  In the meantime, Ivy tried her best to stay positive. On the first day of their journey, when they left the cave and began to travel, Ivy had been in awe, investigating each new plant and rock and flower. They were all such sweet discoveries, and the smells and sounds were welcome and intriguing after so many years behind ShadowBorn walls. Now, however, while she still enjoyed the beauty, she had become a little tired of the Dark Woods. It was a treacherous place, and cold, and it seemed she had seen every tree on the Dark Isle. She was ready for something new.

  However, to her surprise, she felt the exact opposite about Dredd. She was becoming more and more attached to him by the minute. He was her big, scarred, dirty security blanket in the scary world of the Dark Woods. She cursed herself a fool for feeling so connected to him. He barely spoke to her, and usually when he did it was to growl at her for doing something wrong. He was brutish and possessed dreadful manners, his dirty appearance and sloppy eating off-putting. And things were awkward and uncomfortable between them since their encounter that first night in the cave. But yesterday when she had tripped over a fallen log, his strong arm had suddenly been there, grasping her waist and pulling her against him to keep her from falling. The day before he killed a giant snake that was inches from biting her, pulling her close as he sliced its head off. And last night, when Ivy had gotten a little too close to the fire and burned her hand, Dredd grabbed it, and pulled some salve from his belt to rub into the wound. His gentle touch surprised her, and caused her stomach to do flip-flops. She spent the rest of the evening confused.

  This morning Ivy was still confused, not sure how to combat her feelings. He hadn’t tried to bed her since that first night, and that too had her warming to him. She was appreciative that a beast of a male like him, who obviously lived by the law of might makes right, cared enough about her feelings to not force her. She had been around enough men to know that most of them gave no thought to a woman’s feelings.

  There was also the matter of the other Ajax that Dredd killed to protect her since they left the cave. Ivy barely had time to even register there was a threat before. In a flash of weapons, Dredd dispatched the other male with an awe-inspiring efficiency. She shuddered to think of the fate that lay in the hands of the other Ajax, whom Dredd called Merck, since Ivy assumed it was the Ajax norm to mount a female first and ask questions later. No one had ever been protective of her before, not even her father, and Ivy couldn’t help but warm to Dredd’s actions, inexorably drawn to the virile male who repetitively saved her.

  She learned years before to not bother making friends at the Stronghold, as fellow slaves were often reassigned to other areas never to be seen again, or died from illnesses the ShadowBorn refused to treat. Ivy became isolated for her own self-preservation but she would be lying if she said she hadn’t been lonely, crushingly lonely. How often had she laid in bed at night wishing for a friend to talk to? For anyone to care what happened to her?

  And now here the Ajax was taking care of her. And talking to her, albeit not much. And wanting her. Part of her was tempted to just surrender to it, to just cry uncle and let herself be led along to a new life as the “claimed” mate of this intimidating and perplexing warrior. To ask him to kiss her and see where things went from there. But the rest of her rejected that idea with vehemence. Every day since her desperate father sold them both into indentured servitude to the ShadowBorn during her eleventh summer, Ivy had prayed for freedom. To become a slave to another ever again was simply unacceptable.

  For now, in return for Dredd’s continued consideration, she was determined to be as little a burden as possible. She journeyed without complaint, ate the game Dredd provided, and helped when she could. Ivy was hopeful that she would have an opportunity to escape before they reached their destination.

  As they crunched through the leaves on the forest floor, she kept a look out for greens for the evening meal. Dredd had been showing her all sorts of plants throughout the journey, some that could be used for meals, others for medicine, even more that were poisonous. Ivy enjoyed these moments, as it was one of the few topics he seemed to not mind discussing in his poorly spoken Islesh.

  She spotted a plant she hadn’t seen before, each green stalk topped with three small black buds. She stooped toward it, pointing. “Dredd, what kind of plant is this?”

  The Ajax turned to look at the object of her attention. “Black-willow,” he announced with a shake of his head. “No good.”

  Ivy shrank back from it, wondering if it was toxic like the Firethorn she had seen the day before. “Is it poisonous?”

  “Nom. For sleep.”

  Sleeping? “You mean it is a sedative?”

  Dredd frowned at her, clearly not following, so she corrected herself, using hand gestures to help communicate. “Are you saying it’s a sedative? It puts you to sleep?”

  Dredd nodded. “Est. Much strong.” Dredd used his fingers to indicate a very small dose was all that was needed.

  Ivy filed away that piece of information for possible later use. “Interesting. What about the one over there beneath that tree with the leaves shaped like upside down hearts?” Ivy pointed, moving to walk beside Dredd.

  “Heart o’ the Woods,” Dredd cleared his throat, “No use. For luck.”

  “Good luck?”

  Dredd changed the subject, pointing up ahead. “See?”

  Ivy followed his gaze, then smiled. “Pepperstalk, right? That will be good for dinner.”

  Ivy basked in Dredd’s approving nod, thought better of it, and then went to gather some of t
he stalks. After that they fell into a somewhat companionable silence, Ivy’s mind wandering to their conversation the evening before. They were seated before the fire, having just eaten the treecat that Dredd killed. Ivy watched him, mesmerized by the way the flames illuminated his rugged face, highlighting his scars.

  She burned with curiosity about them since they met, and on impulse she blurted out, “How did you get your scars?”

  The muscle in Dredd’s jaw had ticked, but he did not answer.

  Ivy traced an X on her face so he would know what she was asking. “Do you not like to talk about it?” Ivy dared, still half afraid he might come unglued and cleave her to death with one of his ghastly tools.

  After several moments he replied, “They are...shame.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Scars show warrior’s shame.”

  Ivy’s heart lurched for him. “But what did you do to cause them to mark you?”

  Dredd shook his head. “No more.”

  His eyes grew shuttered, and Ivy could tell he was very self-conscious and uncomfortable about his scars and the reasons behind them. She let it drop, but reached out and traced one of his scars with her finger before she could help herself. Dredd grasped her wrist, pinning her with his gaze. The air between them grew heavy, and Ivy thought for a moment that he would kiss her.

  She whispered, “If the goal was to mar your visage, they failed. The scars become you.”

  “Nom,” He responded through clenched teeth.

  Ivy’s throat felt raw with emotion. He didn’t believe her, and he didn’t want to open up to her. She scooted away from him, laying down on the fur blanket that had become her bed.

  “I-vy?” He used her name for the first time since the night they met, and again it sent a thrill through her. The way he said it, clearly enunciating each syllable, stirred something within her.

  She turned to look at him. “Yes, Dredd?”

  “Do not touch me ’less you wish beneath me.”

  Ivy trembled from the memory of his words even now, hours later. Even a novice such as herself could see the raw lust in his eyes. And the way he had slowly spoken each word, perhaps the first full sentence in Islesh he spoke, thrilled her. At the time she showed no reaction, pretending to settle in and go to sleep, though she had lain awake for hours.

  In the light of day, Ivy studied Dredd’s back as she followed along behind him, having a hard time reconciling the ogre before her with the male who gave the sensual warning. But she needed to remember he was one and the same, and she had no business being attracted to a male who treated her like a slave, who even now had her wrists bound and forced her along like some kind of animal, leading her toward a fate unknown, surrounded by people of his kind.

  Savages.

  ****

  That nightfall, they made camp on a hillside of sorts, where a natural ridge in the ground provided an overhang of shelter. Dredd killed a hare for the meal, and he prepared it as Ivy divided up the pepperstalk.

  While Ivy was distracted with her task, Dredd studied her, as he often did when he thought she wouldn’t notice. The last few days had been draining for him, being unaccustomed to spending time with a female, much less one who was his to claim, whom he was alone with at all times. He had no idea what to say to her or how to behave around her. After the humiliation of the other night, when he had been unable to take her after her rejection, Dredd was traveling in uncharted territory. Such uncertainty made him agitated. Ivy did not want anything to do with him, but he was quickly becoming obsessed with her. He was enthralled by everything about her; the way she moved, the way she spoke, and most of all the way she looked at him when he saved her from one mishap or another. A man could get used to such looks from a female as beautiful as Ivy. But her attempted escapes and curiosity about his scars reminded him that such looks were deceiving.

  Ivy’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Dredd, I need...a moment of privacy. Can you unbind my wrists?”

  She looked embarrassed, as she always did when she had to ask him to untie the bindings so she could relieve herself. That had begun to bother him. Making her comfortable started to outweigh the need to safeguard against her escape.

  He moved to untie her and as usual his pulse sped up when his fingers touched the smooth skin of her wrists. She flinched and he realized the rope was starting to chafe her soft flesh. Dredd made up his mind then. “No more,” he said as he gently brushed a finger over the injury, putting the rope back in his belt.

  Her eyes, full of gratitude, met his. “Thank you.”

  She pulled her hands from his, and walked several feet away behind a large tree that was beyond the reach of the firelight. Dredd stooped to check the hare, reassured that they had made a step in the right direction. As the hare cooked, Dredd stared into the flames, feeling content.

  Then Ivy’s scream ripped through the night.

  Dredd leapt up, only then noticing the unfamiliar scent in the air. Damn his distraction! He had let a threat get too close to Ivy. He unsheathed a knife from his belt and moved in.

  When Dredd reached the tree that Ivy disappeared behind, the sight that greeted him was the stuff of nightmares. A Wraith was attacking her, its thin, sickly gray arms wrapped around Ivy in a death grip. Any animal ever set upon by the zombie-like Wraiths of the Dark Woods knew their skeletal frames were misleading. They were incredibly strong and vicious, intent on devouring their prey’s flesh, blood, and bone. While their numbers dwindled in recent annums, those that remained had become quite resourceful, often hiding high up in the shadowy tree tops, only to slink down on an unsuspecting creature. Why had he not thought to check the trees for them?

  Ivy screamed and struggled as the elongated jaw of the Wraith unhinged, its razor sharp teeth ready to sink into her shoulder.

  Dredd reached them just in time, slicing the right arm of the wraith off, giving Ivy enough leverage to pull away. “Back, I-vee!”

  She obeyed immediately.

  The Wraith let out an ear-piercing shriek, its red eyes narrowing as it turned its attention to Dredd, knocking the knife from his hand and wrapping the vice-like fingers of its left hand around his throat. He struggled for air as he pushed the ashen Wraith against the tree, his plan to crush it to death. But before he could complete his mission, he saw a flash of metal to his right. And then Ivy was there, shoving the knife Dredd dropped under the ribs of the Wraith, all the way to the hilt. It hissed but let go of Dredd’s neck, reaching to staunch the wound. When it did so, Dredd made his move, pulling another knife from his belt and slitting its throat from ear to ear. He watched it sink to the ground, seeming to deflate on the way down until it lay in a thin heap like shed serpent skin.

  Dredd turned and found Ivy huddled nearby and rocking rhythmically, bloodstained arms wrapped tightly around her legs. She looked to be in shock. He too was jolted by what she did, but pleasantly so. She did not panic in a moment that must have been terrifying for her. And she didn’t run, leaving him to deal with the Wraith alone. No, she stayed, remained calm enough to pick up the knife, and wielded it expertly. Ivy was going to make a fine Vessel, a mate with spirit to make any warrior proud and bear him strong sons.

  But now, she needed comfort. Dredd cursed himself for not sensing the Wraith sooner, for putting her in harm’s way. Protecting he was good at. Comforting, he hadn’t the first clue. He dropped down on one knee at her side. “I-vee. Hurt?”

  She shook her head, continuing to rock, her head buried against her knees as she began to cry.

  “I-vee,” he went on, awkwardly reaching his hand toward her shoulder, then retracting it. “All well. You…” Dredd stopped, struggling to remember the Islesh word for “safe.” Instead he murmured, “Mulu vertan.”

  Little warrior.

  “I...I...hate this place,” Ivy hiccupped between cries. “These woods are...filled with horrific creatures that all want to do...horrific things.”

  Dredd stiffened but said nothing, longing
to hold her but doing nothing. It made his chest ache, knowing that he was somewhat to blame for her sorrow. But what was to be done? He could never let her go.

  She pulled back quickly, her wet-rimmed eyes searching his gaze, not finding what she sought. “You are never going to let me go.”

  It was as if she had read his thoughts and saw the words that echoed through his mind. Her face sagged.

  Dredd grimaced at her expression, even as he could not blame her for making it. “Naya vorali aver naya rhum ottem dere.”

  My vessel is as my heart, always with me...

  She swiped at her tears and stood, his Ajaxyan words falling on deaf ears as she headed back to the fire.

  ****

  Ivy needed a bath. Now. She was filthy before, but the dried blood of that disgusting creature was still on her, caked on her arms and hands. She was too exhausted and in shock to process it the night before but now, in the harsh morning light, Ivy could think of nothing else. She was disgustingly filthy, daydreaming of one of her chilly hip baths back at the Stronghold like it was paradise.

  “Dredd?”

  “Est?” He replied with a grunt, not turning around. He was never a chatterbox, but he seemed extra surly today. She supposed her coldness last night hurt the one feeling that the Ajax possessed, but she couldn’t let herself feel sorry for him. She learned her lesson last night, when she let his destruction of her bindings get her all soft and complacent. That hideous creature with razor sharp teeth surely crawled up from the bowels of the three hells to serve as a reminder of what happened to ignorant females who let themselves grow complacent.

  But Dredd saved you...

  No! Ivy forbade herself from thinking such ridiculous thoughts again. She wouldn’t have needed saving in the first place if Dredd was an honorable man. Even now she would be on the other side of the River Byrne, in a village, in civilization, where an honorable man would have delivered her. Not waiting to die at the whims of life in the Dark Woods. She was done with her hero worship of a man who kept her prisoner.