Tales of the Rope

Chapter 10: Klaw, the Barbarian Continued

Chapter 10: Klaw, the Barbarian Continued

Arlia bit her lip to keep from crying out. It was damned uncomfortable - it hurt - yet she knew she could take it. For now at least. How long did this damnable barbarian plan to torment her so? She watched him walk across the glade and retrieve his dagger from the tree. As he walked back with the sharp blade in his hand and that wild animal look in his eyes, Arlia gulped down fear. Wild stories of the primitive tribes flashed into her mind; tales of horrible torture for captive prisoners, of sacrifices to bloodthirsty gods, and of strange sexual acts. She was very much aware of her helplessness.

The blade neared her throat, but detoured to cut one strap of her nightdress. Then the other strap. Without concern for the costly garment, he cut and ripped it from her body until her arched and strained form was naked. He stood back and watched as her nudity twisted slowly around, those magnificent breasts pointed towards the ground. As her legs swung around his way he noted the how sparse seemed the golden patch of hair guarding her private place. Not like the bushy patches of the northland women.

“Prince Sylon will get you,” Arlia forced out through clenched teeth.

“He will soon be here,” he casually replied.

“How do you know that?”

“He followed your caravan less than a day behind. I saw his dust yesterday. He would have caught up with you today.” He sheathed the dagger. “He has already found that girl with the strange eyes I left hanging. She has told him which way I went and what I took with me. A child could follow my tracks. He will soon be here.”

“Moon Flower is from Cathay. All women there look like her.”

He only grunted then pulled out his great sword to wipe it clean and check its surface.

you going to

He ignored her.

voice. She wanted to be down, not arched

Klaw trotted off into the

slowly the glade returned to the normal sound of

knew it. For a pampered princess such treatment was inconceivable. Any man who dared do this to her would die slowly and she would gloat over his suffering. But here in this wooded glade there were no palace guards to obey her orders. There was only this brute of a man and

The ropes hurt something terrible, but she held back from screaming. She was, after all, a Princess. For a Princess to cry at a

her lovers had dared be rough even though she sometimes wished one or two would be so bold. Only this barbarian from the north dared. But why, she wondered, didn’t he rape me? I certainly couldn’t stop him. And I’m the most beautiful woman in the world. Men would die to touch this fantastic body, she told herself. Then why did he

fall into a trap. But the Prince never traveled with less than a dozen armed men and this

too much effort to keep it up.

horses approaching the glade. Then the cut-short cry of a man in pain. Another scream of pain, then silence. Arlia strained to see, but the forest hid what was happening from her. She hoped to see Sylon enter

cries and the unmistakable clash of blades. Then silence. Suddenly a

Arlia. “My dear Princess,” he began, a slight

up and

staring instead with fascination

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