Chapter Thirty-nine

CONTENT ADVISORY / TRIGGER WARNING

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

~ VIOLENCE

~ BLOOD

~ PROFANITY

~ SEXUAL ASSAULT

Was she watching to see if he would kill the mortals? Would she sit there idly while the men beat and killed him? What of the mortal women, what would she do about them?

He grunted when the mongrel of a man kicked him once more in the abdomen and then in his face. He heard all the men laughing with pleasure when he tried to push himself up again.

"Blasted milk drinker," the man cursed, kicking him again across his temple.

Another man laughed. "Humph, while you have fun with that horned beast, I think I will have some fun with this one."

The man who had been toying with the captive women scooped up a young red-haired girl. She screamed and kicked as he threw her over his shoulder and carried her merely ten feet away from the group before dropping her to the ground. She screeched at the top of her lungs, crying and pleading with the man as he unbuckled the leather strap around his waist.

Eskil growled as he realized what was about to occur. The young girl's wailing never ceased as she tried to move away from the man, but she was defenseless against the brute with her hands tied behind her back. The other two women screamed for the man to stop, trying to stand and run to their friend when the three men who were standing by the horses appeared at their side. Their rough hands clamped down onto their shoulders, preventing them from running to the girl's aid.

"Be still there lasses, we haven't forgotten about you. We haven't forgotten about you two," one man said.

"Oh no, we would not be so rude to forget about you pretty lasses," said another.

Eskil heard a shrill screech from behind him, the two girls' screams followed when the third man ripped open the blouse of the blonde-haired girl. His hand reached underneath her shredded blouse and grasped her breast. She tried to pull away, but the trio of men surrounded the two women and pinning them to the ground, shredding their clothing so they had better access to the women's bodies. This is why he hated mortals, they were foul and dishonest beings.

He looked at Libelle whose scowl had disappeared and she was staring at him. Her brilliant blue eyes were once again lifeless, yet this time they seemed more terrifying than he could ever remember. The blue appeared so grey they looked almost black, and her expression was blank and stoic. This time, his slayer appeared more devil-like than even he was and it sent a shiver up his spine.

The screams and pleas of the women continued to sting his ears as the bandit men enjoyed their 'prizes' from an earlier raid. And now they were here, seizing the opportunity of the two of them sleeping to stroll into their camp and take them hostage as well. He gritted his teeth when he felt the man's boot land against his ribs.

"What the hell are you doing?" he snarled, not at the boot-wielding man, but at Libelle. "Why are you just sitting there?"

The bandit kicked him again, causing his hands to slip on the grass and he collapsed to the ground. Then the man grabbed one of his horns again and yanked him back up to his knees. "What the hell are you mumbling about? Why is she doing nothing? The lass is sitting pretty, waiting for her turn." He licked his lips as he stared at Libelle.

The man holding the blade to her throat chuckled. "Yes, she is a pretty lass. Much prettier than those wee farm girls. Much better behaved too. She doesn't scream or wail, no, not like them three. Oh, the way they begged when we butchered their dear old Ma and Pa!"

He chuckled again, leaning closer to Libelle who remained silent and unmoving. "You're a pretty lass, aren't you? We are going to have some fun with you." The lanky man stuck out his tongue and licked Libelle's neck up to her cheek, leaving behind a trail of disgusting saliva. He watched the man's knife withdraw slightly from her neck, revealing a bright red line on her skin.

"Libelle, do something," he hissed. He felt like he was pleading with her now, but he did not dare acknowledge that. He knew the slayer was stronger than this, so why was she not doing anything?

Eskil hissed at the man who took another step towards him. His foot drew back as he prepared to kick him again. Burn in Hel you bastards, I will sear your flesh and devour your pathetic souls! A brutal death you deserve.

He could not defend himself from his attackers, and he was stuck on the ground where he was being beaten by these foul creatures. His form was weak, his skin bruised and tore easily, his bones ached, and his blood was becoming too familiar. How he longed to return to his scaled form where he could wreak havoc on the land, when he could slay these worthless men with his fiery breath and then devour their souls. How he would enjoy feasting upon them.

The man who had been standing next to the lanky man who was fondling Libelle's hair was now drinking and laughing alongside his assailant. With their laughter, they took turns kicking him, their boots striking his abdomen, his ribs, his face, and his scalp. He wanted to strike back, but each time he made a move to defend himself, pain worse than their strikes rushed through him like a torrential current.

Eskil eventually collapsed on the grass, the taste of blood filling his mouth while his body ached. He wanted to scream but he didn't have the energy to do so. He looked at Libelle again, his red eyes searching for hers. She was staring into the flames, but her cold eyes slowly turned towards him as she mouthed something. He squinted at her, trying to understand the words her lips were forming.

She mouthed the words again. 'Get down.'