Luminous: Silver and Emerald

5 - Ambush

"Lookie, lookie. The unbeatable Silent Cloak, all broken and powerless."

Said a drawling voice as the group drew near the unconscious figure with heavy, clomping footsteps. The owner of the voice hooked his foot under the hooded form, rolled it over to lie on its back, then knelt down and tore back the hood to reveal the freckled face of a young maiden, asleep with an expression of immense pain and fatigue etched onto her features by her stricken eyebrows.

"A tragic end to a trusting fool." The man ended with a cold, merciless chuckle. His friend, who had stayed silent, stepped forth and looked down at the defenseless girl, his blue eyes dead of emotion.

"Is she dead?" Dorren asked in a voice calm and clipped. The last member of the small throng knelt down beside the girl. Thrusting her cloak out to reveal her tattered dress, he snaked his hand under her collar.

"Still beating." He was beginning to wheeze with excitement now. The girl might not be that much of a beauty, but she was reasonably well endowed for her age. "Don't you worry, old friend. I've dealt with more delicate specimens."

Ruthum laughed, but Dorren couldn't help grimacing. He still couldn't acquaint himself to Timden's hideous brand of fun with the victim before the handover. His untamable thirst had cost them their place in the army in the first place. 

Worst, the time it took to get the girl on her own meant he'd already known her for days. Dragging it on was not going to make it any less distasteful. Not to mention much more dangerous, too. After all, the girl was the only Greeneye in town, and she had a large family that was bound to be looking for her, no matter how obnoxious she was to them.

"Come on. Get this over with. Let's toss her in here and get the hell out of dodge." Dorren swung open the wagon's door. The six Greeneyes inside barely stirred, all bundled from head to toe in similar Amiant-and-Lattis cloaks. Still, Timden wasn't inclined to oblige.

"Not yet. She's still pure. I like pure."

"She probably couldn't do you much good. Drugged half-dead as she is."

"That's why I insist. I hate fighters. Back in the army, I do them after they were dead. They were submissive."

Ruthum could barely suppress his agreeing laughter. And Dorren could only roll his eyes and stride off to cross his arms and sulk against a tree, but he couldn't help peeking as Timden prepared for his sojourn.

Timden produced a length of rope from his belt. He looped it around the trunk of the nearby tree, then tied the girl's hands together with the other end. He untied the cloak from around the girl with a vicious pull at the tassel, then tore apart her dress in a perfect half from chest to hem.

"Whoa. In a hurry, are we—"

Ruthum broke off when a sharp noise rang through the steady silence, like a twig being stepped on. The three men tensed up, even Timden willingly stepped away from his prey. Distinguishing their lamp, they silently communicated that they should just board their wagon and steal away into the night. Dorren heaved up the unconscious girl and tossed her in to join her similarly doomed companions inside, as Ruthum took up the reins. Just then, a roar raged from the darkness as several men burst forth from the surrounding trees.

"YOU FOUL, LOWLIFE! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY SISTER!?"

Maro raved like a maniac as he bulled out into the open, brandishing Mirram's broom-mounted scythe, leading the others to utter their war cry and leap out in hot pursuit. In a flash, the trio found themselves surrounded by torches and pitchforks and knives and shovels in the hands of a dozen villagers, and even five yeomen wielding swords. This was not good. The villagers, they could get away from at ease. But with trained full-time soldiers, it was going to be a close battle.