"Arabian Nights"
Part 89
by Mel
Eric still managed to put off leaving for another three days. He spent most of his time with Elijah, going through basic exercises with him. He was older then most boys who started out as warriors, his body hadn't had any strenuous work inflicted on it. It wasn't unheard of, but Elijah was going to be catching up in the worst way as Eric had to force his body to do what it was told.
Elijah, for his part, didn't complain. The determination in his eyes was refreshing and Eric had set him with the basics. He expected to see him much improved by the time he returned. He had even seen Karl correcting the boy's footing occasionally.
The rest of his time was spent in Viggo and Sean's company.
On the third day, when he realised it was getting difficult to leave, Eric packed his room up and was on a camel before the sun had risen. Most of the Kitten's seemed hardly awake, even Viggo was blinking a little stupidly as Eric hugged him. Only Jared, Sean and Elijah seemed properly coherent, and Elijah only because Eric had had him awake at this time for the last few days.
They managed a rather quiet goodbye, Eric shooed them back into the palace before he left. Long goodbyes made it even harder to go. The sooner he got on the road the better.
Eric left his cape in his luggage with great reluctance, donning plain merchant's clothing. At his guide's displeasure he had buckled his sword to his belt. Such an item would draw much unwanted attention but Eric refused to be caught without it. It was the reason why he was travelling through the desert instead of a ship, less questions. His father's interest in Aqaba was not supposed to be common knowledge and everything about Eric was reasonably well known by the right people.
The sun was on them early, but it was to be expected. Eric was careful enough to keep hydrated and listened to his guides. He would be out of the desert in a short time, Odin willing, and back into places he knew without guides.
It was just after midday, they were sheltering in a small brick structure that his guides said had once been part of a town, when things changed. At first it was the shift in the wind that sent a small murmur through the other men. Still, a sandstorm was not unheard of and they were in the best place possible to wait it out.
When the group of riders in black crested the hill Eric got the distinct feeling Odin wasn't looking out for him in this instance.
With nowhere to run, the sand storm behind them and the men ahead his merchant guides began to panic a little. Some drew their sabres, some tried to scramble on already spooked camels. Eric tied a piece of cloth over his mouth so he wouldn't breathe in too much of the sand and withdrew his sword.
It was almost like it was the signal the men on the crest were waiting for. Their yells and shouts could be heard over the rising wind as they came charging down the hill.
The men around him were starting to break, Eric hollowed at them to stand their ground. But he wasn't dealing with solders, these were guides and merchants. He counted three that didn't run further into the storm. With the riders bearing down on them Eric barely had time to shout a few orders before his sword clashed with the first.
The storm that rage around them seemed to come alive. Whatever Gods seemed to control it were certainly not on Eric's side. Invisible hands grabbed at him constantly, tearing apart his attacks, throwing him and the other fighting merchants too the ground. The riders almost looked they were experiencing a pleasant breeze.
Eric only managed to unhorse one of the fighters when the merchant protecting his back fell, blood pooling beneath him. It made Eric's steps unsure, his already shaky balance from the storm now upset with the slippery mess beneath his feet. The guide who had wanted him to stow his sword was flung into the air by the wind, smacking into the bricks.
Eric gave a silent prayer of thanks. He'd been able to see Sean and Viggo once more before Odin took his departed soul. With a roar he charged the unhorsed man, he would take a few with him before he was done with.
He was surprised when his sword met thin air. Eric was certain the man ad been real, his sword certainly had been. The eyes that looked at him through the small slit in the mask were also not nearly as cold as Eric would have expected them to be.
"What sorcery is this?"
Eric didn't get an answer as the sword hilt met his temple and the world went dark.
~~~
"So you do wake at some point."
Eric struggled to wake properly, in itself an odd occurrence. He was usually the first to wake, a much debated point of Sean's, and was always a light sleeper. A stranger with such a cold voice should not have been able to be standing before him. It took a few foggy moments to remember the situation he had found himself in. He remembered it all as he realised his arms were raised high above his head with heavy shackles around his wrists. His feet only just brushed the floor, all his weight relying on his fragile wrists. This explained a lot.
He figured he was in some sort of dungeons, as these things often took place in, and it took his eyes a little time to struggle with the lack of light. The room even smelt of old blood, it was all rather charming of them.
As Eric lifted his head to take a look at his tormentor the back of a gloved hand struck the side of his face. This hadn't stopped Eric from getting a glance at the man before him. His face was surprisingly strong, though lined with age. Dark short hair crowned his head and ice blue eyes had looked at Eric with cold indifference. He carried himself boldly, his head lifted high so he could look down at his captive even as Eric had the height on him. Even the way he had hit Eric did not bode well, as Eric was sure it was far from the worst he could do.
Eric spat the blood from his mouth and there was a ruffle of cloth.
"Make sure you don't rough him up too badly, Voosloo, I want to leave the best for the Prince. Come slave."
Eric caught the sight of the warm eyes before a tall, heavyset and bald man stepped in front of him. Tattoos covered most of his exposed skin, even his head. Eric didn't like the wolf's grin that stretched across the man's face.
"Of course not, M'Lord."
The heavy door slammed shut behind him.
~~~
Eric could deal with pain. He'd had stab wounds, broken bones. A bandit had embedded an axe in his back when he'd been a child. Pain was delightfully easy too withstand, when the body couldn't withstand it any more you simply passed out till it passed.
This Voosloo had ways of keeping you awake when your body couldn't stand it anymore.
When he finally left, apparently tired at having to hold back Eric sagged against the wall. It had been hard, he'd tried not to scream, but Voosloo only seemed to get off more the quiet he was. He worked twice as hard to make Eric cry out. He almost seemed disappointed when Eric had to give in to his bodies reactions.
And the things he said. Eric had met some crazy, sarcotic people in his years but Voosloo took the cake. He talked of Viggo like he was coming here for a vacation. He almost reminisced over the things he would do when he had the two of them in the same area together. He only laughed when Eric threatened him.
It was some time before the door opened again and Eric couldn't stop the cringe. How had Sean dealt with this for weeks? It was only a few hours and apparently he'd had it easy. His pride in Sean deepened.
"I've been told to clean your wounds," the soft eyes looked up at him, a gentle hand rested against his brow. Eric wanted to ask who he was, this slave to Voosloo's master, but the palm radiated warmth and Eric felt his body relax instantly. "You will sleep through the worst of the healing, I can not do anything else for you."
"Thank you," was all Eric could managed before he succumb to the sudden need for sleep.
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Mel
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