Chapter Forty

CONTENT ADVISORY / TRIGGER WARNING

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DEPICTIONS/STRONG IMPLICATIONS OF THE FOLLOWING THAT SOME READERS MAY FIND OFFENSIVE OR DISTURBING:

~ VIOLENCE

~ PROFANITY

~ SEXUAL ASSAULT AND/OR ****

The sounds of screaming pierced Eskil's ears as he opened his eyes to the dark sky. He rolled onto his side and pushed himself up groggily before looking up in the direction of where Libelle was supposed to be sleeping. Instead, she was sitting up, her arms crossed over her chest and her expression livid. Her brow was creased and she had a clear scowl on her lips, her finger tapping her arm as she stared into the fire.

Behind her sat a rough looking man, his clothing filthy and his stench rancid. He held a blade to her throat and was muttering something to another man who stood beside them. He glanced around, taking in the situation. There were several men standing around the fire, and more were standing beside unfamiliar horses. There were three women kneeling on the ground to his right with their hands bound behind their backs. They were wailing, tears streaming down their face as they pleaded with the dirty looking men.

He went to sit up when one of the men seemed to notice he was awake. The man strode over to Eskil, his disgusting hand latching onto his horn as he pulled him up to his knees. "Look here, boys, we have ourselves a fancy little devil. What are these horns of yours, eh? What sort of devil are you?"

Eskil growled but did not offer a clear response. These must be the bandits Libelle had mentioned. She was right, he would not be able to do anything to defend himself against these men. The more his anger boiled and the more he imagined ripping the man's heart from his chest, the more he felt the tickle of a static-like pain throughout his body. If he were to attack these men, he would be writhing in pain before they even began to slice into him.

He glanced around again. There was one man kneeling beside Libelle with a long blade against her throat, pressure from the sharp metal causing her skin to turn red. Another man stood beside him, talking to the other two men who were enjoying the warmth of their fire. Another man was squatting next to the three women, toying with them and chuckling while they flinched at his touch. Three more were standing by the horses, guarding what he had to assume was their 'loot' from the raids. Then there was the bastard who still had his grungy hand twisted around his horn. They were drinking the piss that men called ale, laughing and seemingly having a grand time.

Nine men in total, nine potential threats; he was completely, utterly helpless. Libelle remained still, her expression growing more and more frustrated as her tapping finger grew louder and faster in pace. Her patience was getting thinner with each passing moment, and she was more than likely calculating her every move for this distasteful situation.

The man standing beside him yanked his horn upwards and pain radiated through his scalp. He leaned down to speak to Eskil, the stench of rotting teeth wafting from his mouth as he spoke. "What sort of beasty are you then? Eh? Answer me!" The man released his horn and kicked him squarely between his shoulder blades, sending Eskil dangerously close to the hot embers. He caught himself with his hands before his face made contact with the fire, wanting nothing more than to spin around and tear the man's head from his shoulders.

He glanced up at Libelle whose eyes were now tightly closed, her mouth drawn into a thin, tight line as she chewed on her lower lip. She was still tapping her finger and he could see a vein pulsing near her temple. He went to push himself up, but the man kicked him down again. He used all his mortal strength to hold himself up above the flames, but the man repeatedly stomped down onto his back while laughing.

"Huh? Tell me what sort of beast you are! Tell me!" he shouted, accepting a drink from one of his foul comrades as they began to laugh. The man repeated his question several more times, still stomping down onto his back. Eskil gritted his teeth, looking back up at Libelle whose eyes were still closed. Why was she not doing anything? He stared at the knife that was against her throat and noticed a small droplet of blood forming at the tip of the blade. The man was carelessly holding her life in his hands; it was unacceptable.

Her life was his to take. Eskil ignored the sting as he grabbed a handful of glowing embers and turned, throwing them into the man's face as he did so. The man yelled out as the hot embers made contact with his face, but his scream was silenced as Eskil wrapped his hands around his throat. For a moment, he felt satisfaction when his large hands coiled around the man's neck, seconds from taking the mortal's life. All too soon, he felt the same agonizing pain erupt through his body. He stifled his scream, his hands releasing the mortal's neck as he collapsed to the ground panting.

The man began coughing while his comrades all laughed at him. As soon as he recovered, he cursed, "You filthy bastard!" He massaged his throat as he glared at Eskil. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Eskil fought the urge to vomit from the pain, his stomach twisting into even more knots as the man's foot collided with his abdomen. The powerful kick sent him into the air before collapsing onto the grass. He coughed and groaned, pushing himself up onto his hands and knees. He looked at Libelle again, her eyes were now open and she was staring at him. She hadn't moved, but her eyes were tracking him.