War (The Four Horsemen #2) - Laura Thalassa Page 0,8
I glance behind me to meet them.
He holds my gaze for several seconds, then moves his attention back to the road.
Okaaaay.
Maybe he doesn’t understand me like I understand him?
The rest of the trip we ride in silence.
At some random point, War veers off the road. The plants here have been pulverized by the horseman’s army. He follows the tracks that his horde left, winding us through the mountains.
Eventually we round a bend, and I suck in a breath.
Nestled in a relatively flat section of land is a camp as big as a small city. Thousands of tents lie nestled among the trees and brush, covering a huge portion of the mountainside.
Who knows how long they’ve been camped out here, completely out of sight from the main road.
War rides past several makeshift horse corrals and rows upon rows of tents. Now that we’re moving through the place, I notice that even right now there are people here. Most of them are women and children, but there are a few muscle-y soldier types as well.
The horseman stops his steed. Dismounting off of the creature, he then turns around and lifts me from his horse.
I have no idea what the fuck is going on, but I really wish I still had my weapons.
The horseman sets me on the ground. He stares at me for several moments, then tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
You will be safe here until I get back. All you must do is swear fealty with the others. Then we will speak again, wife.
“I am not your wife.”
Again, I catch an echo of his earlier surprise.
I don’t think I’m supposed to understand him.
One of the soldier-types comes over, a red sash around his upper arm. War leans in to him and says something so low I can’t hear it. Once he’s finished, the horseman gives me a long look, then remounts his horse.
With a jerk of his reins, War turns around and rides out of the camp, and I’m left to figure out the situation alone.
By the time the sun is setting, my wrists are bound behind my back and I’m forced to wait in a line alongside other similarly bound individuals.
I don’t know if this is what War had envisioned for his wife when he dropped me off, but it feels about right.
The other captives have trickled in throughout the day. There’s maybe a hundred of us; we probably amount to a fraction of a fraction of the city’s total population. And the rest of the city …
When I close my eyes, I see them. All of those people who breathed only a day ago now lay dead in the street, food for scavengers.
For a long time the line of us just stands there. A huge man a couple meters in front of me is trembling uncontrollably, probably from shock. I can see blood splatter across his back.
Who did he lose?
Stupid question. The answer must be everyone. The only difference these days is who everyone includes. A wife? Parents? Children? Siblings? Friends?
One of my clients once told me that there were over fifty members of his extended family. Did they all die today?
The thought brings bile to the back of my throat.
My attention sweeps over our surroundings. Most of the other captives in line are male. Male and noticeably athletic. I search for another female amongst us. There are a few. Too few for my taste. And all of them are young and pretty, the best I can tell. A couple of the women cling to children, and that is another shock to my system. I don’t know what sickens me more—that these small families are now at the mercy of these savages, or that there must be countless more left behind in Jerusalem …
I close my eyes.
Always knew this day would come. The day when the Four Horsemen finished what they started.
But knowing couldn’t prepare me for the reality of it. The bodies, the blood, the violence.
This is some sick nightmare.
“I’m going to enjoy you later.”
I blink my eyes open just in time to see a man pointing his blade at me, his free hand moving to his crotch.