Chapter 9: The Betrayal

I hesitated with Alexander's arms still around me in the bushes. Although I felt very agitated, his arms seemed to keep me grounded and sane from the inner turmoil I was facing.

Yet I had made my choice as soon as I saw the guard, ignoring the bloody evidence on his weapon.

"I'm here!" I shrieked, as Alexander made a surprised sound. I felt instant regret when I heard it, yet I told myself to be firm. What other chance would I get to free myself from these bandits, however nice one of them had been to me?

That is how I tried to rationalise the pain I felt in my heart.

The guard was upon us in a matter of seconds, but just as quickly had Alexander grabbed me. Was he actually planning to take me back to Melchior, if the bandit leader was even still alive?

The armored hand of the guard stretched itself out towards me, but Alexander threw me behind him instantly, dodging the blow of his opponent's formidable sword. Although I wanted my father's man to take me to his camp, I found myself anxiously hoping Alexander wouldn't be injured.

I was in luck, however. My father's man managed to throw Alexander to the ground, disarming him in the process. He tied a strong rope around his wrists, and offered me a hand to help me up.

"I presume you must be Lady Collios," he said impatiently. I ensured him that I was.

"Good," was all he said before prodding Alexander forward with his sword. I walked behind them. Alexander looked back at me with a look of hatred and disappointment. I was stung by it more than I expected. Suddenly the shimmering, armored hand of the guard shot up to hit Alexander in the face. I screamed, tears in my eyes.

"Don't hurt him," I shouted, "he's been kind to me."

Alexander scoffed. The guard turned towards me as if stung.

"I don't take orders from you, Lady Colios," he said, his face coming too close to mine, "my orders are to take Melchior's second-in-command as a hostage, and to take you to your father."

I straightened my back.

"You will do as you're told, or my father will hear of it!"

He clenched his fist around his sword, as if he was restraining himself from striking me with it.

"Your father has ordered me to take you to him by any means."

He looked towards Alexander, daring him to try anything. When he didn't give him any recognition, my father's man pushed him forward, back to the camp.

My feet were growing heavy walking up the hill of my former site of captivity. I recognised the colours of Melchior's former guards on the ground, and refrained from actively looking at them. Instead, I focused my gaze forward, on the tents. But there I couldn't find solace either. Their, colourful, embroidered fabrics were torn, dirty and sometimes even bloodied. Ignoring the silhouets on the ground, I screamed when I felt a cold hand suddenly grab my ankle. I looked down in fear, only to see the worn old eyes of Birch looking up at me in terror. Both Alexander and my father's soldier had jolted up. The latter immediatly assessed the situation, and came walking towards us, with his broad finger firmly around his sword.

I went to stand in front of him, utter distress making my heart beat faster than I ever thought it could. My hands were shaking, and sweating. I kept looking down at the old woman, her body broken, who was looking back at me like an animal cought in a trap.

"Wait, she is a friend. We can take her to my father."

The soldier didn't care to look at me, his eyes straight on Birch.

"Lady Collios, if you do not move aside this instant you will get hurt."

"I will not let you hurt this woman!" I shrieked back at him.

Suddenly, my eyes grew wide as I noticed Alexander hover over the other man. His hands were still tight, but his foot was raised to attack the soldier. The latter, noticing my look of distress, turned around faster than I could process, and threw the second-in-command to the ground.

"It is a pity that my Lord commanded for you to be spared, for now," hissed them man to Alexander, before proptly standing up and pushing me aside with a force far suprior over my own. I landed on another body, which, I could tell from disturbing coldness, was actually dead.

I screamed as I tried to gather myself up, but a nauseating sound told me that I was too late. Alexander roared in horror and tried to get up once more despite his tied hands. The look in his eyes was beyond a hatred I knew a person could feel, and the guilt that formed in my heart in response was greater than I had ever experienced.

I got dragged up roughly from the entanglement of bodies underneath me. Cowardly as I was, I did not face Birch's body, or Alexander's gaze after this. However, as we walked through the rest of the camp, my consciousness ceased to process what happened. Instead, it brought me back to Birch's last awful moment's, and the appalling sound of the weapon coming down on her. I had no right to be so appalled, knowing I had already killed a man, but the memory was so unjust, distressing and disgusting to me, that I emptied my stomach mid-step. At this moment, I felt the soldier push me forward once again, ignoring my physical disturbances.

Alexander, as far as I knew, was walking behind the soldier. In the distance, near Melchior's old tent, I saw a group of soldiers standing together. I couldn't see my father anywhere, which wasn't surprising to me. If my father wanted me to come home, he would order the soldiers to bring me home.

We came to a halt before the other soldiers and living inhabitants of the camp. Although I recognised several people from the camp, I couldn't see Melchior or Baldwin anywhere. A relieved expression on Alexander's face told me that he didn't recognise any of them either. The soldier left us to join the rest of his group, confident that we wouldn't do anything in the proximity of his troop. Alexander went to stand in front of me.

That was when one of the soldiers, dressed in a bit more finery than the others, began to shout.

"All of you, get on your knees!"

I hurriedly did as we were told to do. But Alexander remaind standing. After everything that had happened, his clothes were damaged and full of stains. He had several bruises on his arms and on his face. His dark hair was dirty and greasy, and his big nose had a cut in the middle. Yet his dark eyes displayed determination as I had never seen before.

The other guards also saw this, so one of them came forward to him. He stood still before Alexander. The man was a lot taller than Alexander, yet the latter kept staring at him defiantly, until the soldier kicked his stomach and Alexander bent down in reaction, falling on his knees. I could see how the ropes around his wrists were cutting his skin. Suddenly, it dawned on me that the soldier had refrained from taking my dagger. As if he had underestimated my ability to wield it. Of course, he hadn't been wrong in his assumption.

"You will all be sorry if you do not tell us where Melchior and the rest of those bandits are hiding."