Rescue Part 1
Aleksandra sat on the boulder breathing hard her bow at her feet and her sword held upright between her legs as she looked at the scene in front of her. She hadn’t counted the cost of their actions yet but she knew it had been a costly endeavour.
When she had had a home and a husband and a family Aleksandra could never have believed that she would be living the life she now did. However, that was before the armies of the Witch-Queen had invaded and before High Elstrand had swallowed up Grent. At first Aleksandra had thought her life would end when her husband and son had died fighting and she had been forced to flee or be taken by the Witch-Queen’s forces. Yet a fateful meeting had changed that conviction.
Aleksandra had managed to cross into Lindest before political pressure from High Elstrand had closed the border. One refugee amongst many, she had survived on the hunting and foraging skills her father had taught her as a young girl. But Aleksandra was more successful with her bow and knife than she ever thought she could be and soon she was also hunting for the other refugees and not just for herself.
It wasn’t just the animals she hunted that Aleksandra saw and tracked during her time away from the refugee camp. Travelling furtively around the countryside she also kept an eye on the Witch-Queens troops as they overran Grent, observing their movements and activities near the border of Lindest and some of the things that she saw both disturbed and revolted her. They made Aleksandra realise that the stories, rumours and myths she’d heard were in fact true. Later, it would strike Aleksandra that perhaps this dawning realisation was the principle reason behind a fateful meeting.
It had been soon after Grent had finally fallen, as she returned from one of her hunts, that a man she had seen around the refugee camp she helped to feed had approached her. Aleksandra remembered him because of the respect he was shown by the leaders of the refugees even though he seemed to have nothing to do with running the camp. Tall and obviously physically strong with blue eyes and a trimmed grey beard and curled grey hair he looked like the epitome of a grizzled veteran.
He had been waiting for Aleksandra, leaning against a tree and watching her as she passed over the results of her latest hunt.
“Another good days work Frau Westergard,” he had said nonchalantly.
Aleksandra had stopped and looked at him, “I do what I can,” she had replied cautiously.
“True as do we all, but what if I offered you the chance to do more, perhaps more than you ever considered possible?”
“What do you mean do more and who are you any way?” she had asked suspiciously.
“My name is Hemming Greve and if you come and talk with me and some others I can assure you that you won’t regret it. I promise you that absolutely no harm whatsoever will come to you. I just want you to hear what some others and I have to say and if you don’t agree then you can just walk away. We appreciate what you are doing for the others and hope that it will continue, but we are certain that you could do more. All that we ask is that you come and listen to what we have to say.”
Aleksandra had looked at Hemming Greve for several seconds and then she had given a small nod, “Very well,” she’d said.
The offer that she was made stunned her. Hemming Greve was the leader of a group of resistance fighters, men and a few women that were raiding across the border into High Elstrand trying to cause damage and, if possible, rescuing people. Aleksandra had listened for nearly two hours as they explained how her highly honed skills would be of benefit to them and, in the end, she had agreed to join them. There were more than fifty of them and to Aleksandra’s pleasant surprise they were both well armed and well organised, to her greater surprise she had fitted in.
Aleksandra had continued her hunting but she had also trained with the ever-expanding group. Finally she had been asked to take part in a raid across the border into what had once been populated areas of Grent but were now empty of people. She had immediately agreed but the raid, which was on a small scale, had been unsuccessful. The same had happened on two more occasions to other raiding parties and though the raids had started without incident it had all eventually gone wrong. A raiding party of fifteen had crossed the border into an area that was known to contain villages but although fifteen had left only one had returned and what he had told them had shocked everyone.
The raiding party had been on the verge of returning home when they had spotted four riders approaching. Taking immediate cover they had waited for the riders to approach. The three riders had ridden slowly down the road towards the hidden raiding party, talking and laughing as they did. What happened next was only known because there had been one survivor. Burnt, poisoned and dying, a man called Ervard Karsten had staggered back into the refugee camp and collapsed. Taken into a tent he had taken two hours to die an agonising death but in those two hours, during periods of lucidity, he had told those present, including Aleksandra, what had befallen the raiding party. Tears of agony and loss had flowed down Ervard’s ravaged features from his one remaining eye as he recounted his tale.
As the four riders approached the place where Ervard Karstern and the others waited, poised to attack, it had become obvious that although they were heavily armed and garbed in studded black leather armour the three were women. Ervard Karstrn had admitted that for a moment this had given him pause the thought of killing a woman did not please him but then he had hardened his heart as he thought of whose troops the women were. After all, two of the members of the raiding party were women, two sisters whose father and mother had disappeared during the war, two sisters who had been members of a Grent militia.
The leader of the raiding party, a man called Kresp Thornen, had stepped forward from his hiding place and stood in the road in four of the riders, “Stop and surrender, you are outnumbered and surrounded,” he had said.
The women had reined in their horses. One in particular had sat calmly looking down at the man in front of her while the three others had looked around. Ervard Karstern had shuddered as he told those around them how it seemed that as the gaze of one of the women passed over his hiding place her look made his skin crawl and he knew that she was completely aware of where he and all the others around him were.
The woman had said nothing, instead a grin had formed on her lips and then chaos had erupted. Kresp Thornen had died where he stood, screaming as fire engulfed him as the four riders had dismounted with a speed that had stupefied those watching. They had drawn black metal swords that dripped green filth and rapidly spread out amongst the raiding party.
The fight should have been unequal, after all there had fifteen raiders and only four of the Witch-Queens troops, but it wasn’t. Magic tore into the raiders, fire and force that ripped and burnt as the swords of the women rose and fell and green poison flowed into the wounds they caused. The shocked and terrified raiders had tried to defend themselves but it had seemed impossible for them to inflict any injuries on the black-armoured women and they had been rapidly and devastatingly overcome.
Ervard Karstern had been one of the last to fall as a bolt of fire caught him and a sword sliced deeply into his thigh and poison flowed into him. Expecting immediate death to end the agony he was in he had laid on his back looking up at the woman who had begun the attack. She sat on her horse grinning down at him as the other three black clad women stood around him with grins as broad as their leader. However, instead of killing him the woman on the horse had spoken in a cold and haughty tone.
“I’m sure you will make it back to your superiors and when you do give them a message from me. Tell them that Deaconess-Colonel Andreja Keltervern thanks them for the exercise and the presents. Say that if they wish to play again please let me know and I’ll be happy to join in,” she had said as the other women, untouched by any of the raiding parties weapons, laughed out loud then remounted their horses.
With a last look down they had turned their horses and rode away at the same sedate pace as they arrived, as they did Ervard Karstern had seen that lying across the withers in front of the riders of two of the large war horses were the two sisters. Heavily bound and with what looked like loose black leather bags over their heads the two women were immobile as the horses and their riders carried them away to whatever fate awaited them at the hands of the Witch-Queen’s troops.
It had taken two agonising and delirious days for Ervard Karstern to make his way back but a determination to warn others had carried him on. Finally his story was told and he had slipped into unconsciousness and then death as outside the tent where he lay an argument had begun.
Some of those who had listened to Ervard Karstern’s story had refused to believe him, saying that a superior force had obviously overwhelmed the raiding party and that his injuries had made him delusional. Others had believed the dying man’s report but not enough to form a consensus of opinion and no decision had been made. For her part Aleksandra had kept quiet she believed Ervard Karstern’s dying statement and she would do her best to convince others.
Aleksandra and those who believed Ervard Karstern had failed in their arguments and another raid had been organised. This time twenty-eight people had left the camp and crossed the border, none of them had returned.
As time had passed and the raiding party had begun to be missing for days rather than hours arguments had broken out over what should happen next. Finally Hemming Greve had been forced to step in and make a binding decision, “We will plan another raid but it will be a major intervention and will be with our most seasoned and experienced fighter and I want the training of archers to be given priority. Aleksandra can you organise that?” he had asked.
“Of course,” said Aleksandra without hesitation.
Patiently and stealthily preparations were made until, a minor lunar later, all was ready and fifty raiders, including Aleksandra, had crossed the border. Travelling at night and resting in secluded and guarded sites during the day it taken six days for Aleksandra and her companions to find what was left of the previous raiding party. What they found confirmed everything that Ervard Karstern had said. Bodies had lain scattered over a remarkably small area of hillside and as they had been told the majority of them showed signs of having died by fire and poison but there was a further twist.
“I count only twenty-five bodies,” Hemming Greve had said, “Three are missing.”
Aleksandra had looked at the bodies that were now being buried, “Let me guess, all three were women and all three were attractive?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t necessarily mean...” Hemming Greve had said his voice trailing off.
Aleksandra had given a snort of derision, “We both know what the witches do to attractive women and we both know that after such a passage of time it’s already to late for them.”
Hemming Greve had sighed, “Yes, I do know but some others don’t so let’s keep this to ourselves. The last thing we need is for us to loose fighters when some of them decide to run off and try and rescue them. We both know how that will end.”
“Agreed, I’ll keep my peace,” said Aleksandra.
Five days later the raiding party had found what they’d been looking for, seven of the Witch-Queen’s troops armoured in black studded leather armour were escorting what looked like a prisoner wagon driven by another soldier in identical armour. The party had attacked without warning but despite this advantage the battle had been long, furious and bloody. By the time it was over not only were the eight black armoured soldiers dead but so were many of the raiding party with others being severely injured.
In the end it had been Aleksandra and her ten archers that had made the difference, able to inflict injury and death from a distance it had given them an advantage the other raids had not had. Eventually it was over and Aleksandra, who never taken part in anything like this, had thrown up and then found a rock to sit on.
Aleksandra looked up as a voice called out her name, “Aleksandra,” said a female friend of Aleksandra’s called Andra who was also one of her archers.
“What is it Vendra?”
“Hemming needs your help and, well, I think it’s best that you come and see for yourself, I wouldn’t know how to explain it,” said an obviously worried Vendra.
Wearily Aleksandra stood up and sheathed her sword then slung her bow over her back and followed her friend. Ahead of her she could see Hemming Greve standing near the rear of the now open wagon. As she approached Hemming he moved towards her with a grim look on his face, “Hello Aleksandra, I’m glad to see you made it.”
“Thanks, it was harder than I thought, how many did we lose?”
“Twenty, with another three who won’t make it through the night,” Hemming shook his head, “In all my years I’ve never seen anything like it.”
For a few moments there was silence, “So Hemming why did you send Vendra to get me?” she asked.
Hemming looked at her, “You are well respected by those involved in our struggle Aleksandra and many consider that when I step down you should take my place.”
Aleksandra was shocked, “Me, you must be joking Hemming, there are others who would be a much better choice.” Then she paused, “But what has that got to do with why you wanted to see me?”
“I’m telling you this because what I’m about to show you and ask you to deal with is something that I cannot do. Please follow me.”
Aleksandra followed Hemming as he led her to the open back of the wagon, “Well, what is it?” she asked.
“If you go up the steps and into the wagon you’ll see for yourself, no explanation of mine will suffice.”
Aleksandra looked at Hemming and then at Vendra but both remained silent, she realised that others were also watching, what in the hells is all this about she thought. Then, slowly, she climbed the four steps up into the wagon and stepped through the entrance.
The inside of the wagon was darker than the bright sunlight outside with light filtering in through shutters in the sides. As a result it took a few seconds for Aleksandra’s eyes to adapt. The floor she was standing on was made of thickly padded black leather and walls of the wagon were covered in studded red leather. Fur rugs and silk pillows were laid over the top of the padded leather and made the interior of the large wagon remarkably luxurious. As Aleksandra’s eyes adjusted she gasped in surprise as she realised what the wagon held.
Cowering at the far end of the wagon, their arms wrapped protectively around each other as they looked in fear at Aleksandra, were five women scantily or barely dressed in a variety of sexually fetish styled black leather outfits. However, all had one thing common. Each of the women wore a leather mask held tightly in place by straps and buckles around their heads. The masks sheathed each of their faces in black leather from the below their chin to their hair line and left only their eyes and lips uncovered. Around their necks each of the masked women also wore a two inch wide black leather collar.
The sight shocked Aleksandra to the core, “Oh no,” she whispered to herself, “slaves.”
Turning, Aleksandra walked down the wagons steps and looked at Hemming, the leader took her and Vendra out of earshot before he spoke, “They are slaves aren’t they?” he said quietly as he took in the look of disgust and sadness on Aleksandra’s face
“Yes, I’ve seen their like before during my hunting expeditions, the witches keep them as... as human pets, they... they have sex with them,” she said and shuddered.
Hemming shook his head sadly, “I’ve heard of such, is it possible that some of them are... are...”
“Are some of them those we are missing? Possible but until we can get them to remove those masks they are wearing it’s impossible to tell. Have you tried?”
“Of course we have but every time a man approaches them they become hysterical and panic like nothing I’ve ever seen before. That’s why I asked for you.”
For several seconds Aleksandra looked at the door of the slave wagon, reluctantly she nodded and then spoke very quietly to Hemming Greve, “Very well, but you must realise that if any of them are our missing people it’s far to late to help them. When the witches enslave a woman in this manner they completely wipe their personalities and memories from their minds, I’ve seen it done.” She said and shuddered at the memory. “They will have no recollection of who they once were they will believe that they have always been slaves,” said Aleksandra as she noticed a look of disbelief on Vendra’s face.
“I understand that but I feel we need to know” Hemming Greve said just as quietly, then he passed some papers to Aleksandra, “We found these on the leader, they may help you.”
Aleksandra quickly scanned the documents she had been given then turned to her friend, “Vendra will you please come with me? I might need your help.”
Vendra’s eyes were wide with shock but after a few moments she also nodded, “Yes, of course,” she said nervously.
“Thank you, all I can tell you is not to be alarmed or worried by what you might see or hear. You are not at risk, although you might find it disturbing,” said Aleksandra then she turned and looked at the open door of the wagon.
Taking her bow from her back Aleksandra placed it against one of the wheels of the wagon then unbuckled her sword belt and scabbard and stood it next to her bow; Vendra did the same. Knowing she was being watched by the surviving fighters and with Vendra following her, Aleksandra slowly walked up the steps and into the dimly lit wagon.
Aleksandra’s sturdy flat-soled knee-high boots sank into the thickly padded leather floor as she slowly walked towards the far end of the slave-wagon. As she walked forward Aleksandra opened the shutters as wide as possible to allow as much light as possible into the interior of the wagon. Just as before the five women were still clustered together at the far end of the wagon. With an amazed Vendra standing behind her Aleksandra stopped and looked down at the five erotically clad women, she hunkered down in front of them then after a few seconds she spoke.
“What are your names?” she asked.
The five women looked at each other for a few seconds then with obvious reluctance and noticeable fear one of them spoke, “Madam, this slave begs your forgiveness but it cannot speak to you without its owners permission and neither can these other slaves,” said the masked slave then it became silent.
Aleksandra looked in sadness at the slave that had spoken, dismayed by the sight of what had once been a free woman. The slaves auburn hair was pulled back into a tight braid that fell down it’s back and it wore few clothes. What it did wear consisted of thigh length boots with laces down the front and sky-high stiletto heels, a g-string and three-quarter length gloves that reached to the elbows. Like the mask and collar the boots, gloves and g-string were made from black leather. Aleksandra could see gold rings through the slaves erect nipples and lower lip and, as it had spoken, she had noticed two gold studs through the slaves tongue.
“What are we going to do?” whispered Vendra.
For a moment Aleksandra thought in silence then she turned to Vendra and whispered, “Vendra, what I’m going to do and say in a few moments might sound strange but please, please go along with it.” Then she turned back towards the five slaves.
Aleksandra took a deep breath, “I am pleased to see that you have responded correctly,” she said carefully to the slave she had spoken to earlier. The five masked slaves looked at her but remained silent.
“I am pleased because I have... I have purchased the five of you from your previous owner,” she said as she removed the sheaf of documents from her pocket. For some unknown reason her hand tingled and vibrated as she held the documents and the words on the paper appeared to become fuzzy and indistinct then the words reshaped.
“These are the bills of sale for your... purchase from Chaplain-Major Orlton. You are now my... slaves, you are my property and I am your... Mistress,” said Aleksandra with obvious distaste as from behind her she heard Vendra gasp in amazement.
What happened next surprised Aleksandra. The eyes of the five slaves became fixed on the documents Aleksandra held and their mouths fell slowly and slackly open. For what seemed to Aleksandra like hours but was only a minute the five slaves continued to stare wide-eyed and slack jawed at the papers that Aleksandra couldn’t seem to put down. Finally the five slaves sighed and their mouths closed as they blinked and then as one lowered their masked faces. They knelt with their foreheads touching the padded leather floor and said as one, “Mistress, how may your slave be of service to you?”
Aleksandra shook herself and also blinked as she let the papers fall to the floor as if she’d been stung. By the hells she thought as she looked at the five kneeling women, what just happened? Picking up the papers she got rather unsteadily to her feet.
“I don’t believe it actually worked,” said Vendra quietly.
“Just luck I think,” said Aleksandra quietly as she looked down at the papers she held and then with a shake of her head put them away.
Aleksandra looked down at the five slaves, “Stand up,” she said.
With easy sensuousness the five leather clothed women stood up, their masked faces still facing downwards. Aleksandra couldn’t believe how easily they moved in the extreme, and in her opinion totally ridiculous, high heels they wore, “Remove your masks and then line up in front of me, I wish to see your faces, to see what I’ve... I’ve purchased.”
Without comment the five slaves helped each other to undo the buckles that fastened the web of straps that kept the masks in place. Then, as ordered, they lined up in front of Aleksandra down the length of the wagon. Swallowing nervously and with an equally anxious Vendra next to her Aleksandra looked at the first of the five.
The first was a brunette and Aleksandra guessed that the woman was in her early twenties, she was also, as Aleksandra had expected, extremely beautiful with an exceptional figure of full breasts a narrow waist and rounded buttocks. Like all the rest her glossy brown hair was fastened in a tight braid and there was a gold ring pierced through her lower lip. Aleksandra couldn’t tell if the woman also had her nipples and genitals pierced as from the neck down she was dressed in a form fitting black leather suit that emphasised her figure. Tight black kid leather full-length gloves covered her arms and reached to her biceps. Platform soled ankle boots with incredibly high heels were on her feet. Like all the others she was collared with a two-inch wide black leather collar.
Aleksandra was pleased that she didn’t recognise what had once been a free woman as one of the missing fighters but it did disturb her that this woman was now a pleasure-slave, “Tell me your name,” she said.
“Mistress, this slave’s name is 3.”
Aleksandra was aghast that a woman could be reduced to a slave that had a number for a name. With a shake of her head she moved onto the next. This woman was the auburn heard slave that had spoken to her earlier. If asked Aleksandra would have guessed that she was in her early thirties and like the previous woman was incredibly beautiful with full pouting lips and an oval face.
Please don’t let all of them think of themselves as mere numbers thought Aleksandra as she moved on.
“What is your name?” asked Aleksandra,
“Mistress this slave’s name is 1,” came the reply.
“Oh no,” said Aleksandra as she looked at the next two enslaved women, beside her Vendra gasped.
The next two enslaved women were blondes in their mid-twenties. As with their fellow slaves both had large breasts, narrow waists and rounded buttocks as well as beautiful faces. Both were also dressed the same in skin tight black leather suits that left their breasts and pubes exposed, black, stiletto heeled thigh length boots and short black fingerless gloves. The two slaves nipples, clitoris and labia were pierced with gold rings and Aleksandra knew that both would also have their tongues pierced. As with the others they both wore collars around their necks.
The way the two formerly free women looked was unsettling enough but what was more disturbing was that Aleksandra and Vendra recognised both of the slaves. The pair were two of the three women who had been captured during the last raid into what had been Grent, they were, or had been thought Aleksandra, twenty-five and twenty-six year old sisters called Elpeth and Vestin de Karendt.
Dreading the answer she was about to receive Aleksandra asked the same question she had asked the other two, “What are your names?” she asked looking from one to the other.
“Mistress, this slave’s name is 5,” said the slave that had been Elpeth de Karendt.
“Mistress, this slave’s name is 2,” said the slave that had been Vestin de Karendt.
Aleksandra unhappily shook her head, “And how long have you been a slave, 5?” she asked the slave that had been Elpeth de Karendt.
A look of confusion appeared on 5’s face, “Mistress, forgive it but this slave does not understand the question, it has always been a slave, how could it be anything else?”
Aleksandra wanted to cry, it was just as she’d known it would be, neither of the sisters had any memories left of who they really were. Their personalities and memories had been completely deleted and the personalities of a sex-slave implanted in their place. What was worse was that Aleksandra knew there was no way of turning either of them back into normal women they would forever be slaves.
For a few moments Aleksandra looked sadly at the two sisters then she moved onto the last of the five women. The final slave was a stunningly beautiful brunette who Aleksandra thought was probably in her late thirties, she was thankful that she didn’t recognise the slave. Like the first woman this slave was dressed in a form fitting black leather suit that tautly covered her body like a second skin. The woman wore three-quarter length black kid leather gloves and ankle boots with the same ridiculous stiletto heels that the others wore and just as with the others she was collared.
For a moment Aleksandra wondered who this woman had been when she was free, had she been married, had she had children, were her family still searching for her not realising what she had become? Aleksandra shook her head, the thoughts were futile and worse they were upsetting.
“Tell me your name,” Aleksandra ordered in a harsher toe than she had meant, knowing what the answer would be.
“Mistress, this slave’s name is 4,” replied the slave.
Aleksandra sighed, everything was as she had thought it would be. For a few moments she consider what to do next then she came to a decision and a realisation, “Put your masks back on,” she said.
“Why did you tell them to do that?” asked Vendra as the slaves refitted the leather masks over their faces.
“To prevent anyone from recognising Elpeth and Vestin. Try to imagine what the reaction would be if they were recognised. And you must not tell anyone what we’ve discovered, promise me you won’t Vendra, please promise me?” said Aleksandra passionately.
Vendra looked at the slaves as they refitted their masks, “Alright, I’ll do as you ask,” she said.
“Thank you,” said Aleksandra then she turned back to the slaves, “Remain here,” she ordered, “I’ll return later.”
“Yes Mistress,” said the five slaves as a miserable Aleksandra, with Vendra following, turned and walked from the wagon. For a moment she paused then she locked the door of the wagon and pocketed the key.
“Well,” asked Hemming Greve as Aleksandra approached him, “Were we right?”
“Unfortunately yes, Elpeth and Vestin de Karendt are in the wagon although they no longer remember being those women they are as much slaves as the others in there.”
Hemming Greve shook his head, “So it’s just as we feared,” he said, “And now we have a decision to make and a quick one at that we have already been here to long.”
Aleksandra glanced at the wagon, “What are your thoughts?” she asked.
“I think that we have three options, we can take the wagon and its... contents with us, we can leave the wagon here for the witches to reclaim it or... we can kill them and burn the wagon.”
There was a look of horror on Vendra and Aleksandra’s face. “Hemming, you can’t be serious. I know what they’ve become but to even suggest that we kill them makes us just as bad as the witches,” said Aleksandra.
She looked at the wagon, “We have to take them with us, look, I’ll take the wagon and begin heading back towards the border. I won’t ask anyone to come with me because the risk of capture is too high but I can’t, I won’t leave them to the witches and I definitely won’t allow them to be killed,” she said vehemently.
For a few moments there was silence then Hemming Greve gave a small nod, “Very well Aleksandra. But I can’t afford to send anyone with you after the losses we’ve had. We have to bury the dead and cover up the signs of battle as quickly as possible so the witches won’t know what happened here. Reinforcements have already been sent for and they will meet us at the next rest point, I intend to reconnoitre as much of the area as possible. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes I am,” said Aleksandra without hesitation, “We can’t just desert or kill these women, what they’ve become isn’t their fault.”
Then came a surprise, “Aleksandra is right and I want to go with her and help her, “ said Vendra.
“No Vendra, you can’t, you know what will happen if I’m caught, the chances are I’ll end up as a slave, I don’t want that to happen to anyone else,” said Aleksandra.
“Please I want to do this, let me help you,” said Vendra passionately.
For several seconds there was silence the Hemming Greve spoke, “Very well Aleksandra I will not try to stop you and Vendra, you may accompany Aleksandra, but both of you must be careful. If the choice is between freedom for yourselves and staying with the slaves then I beg you, flee.”
He looked at the two women, “May the Five Who Are One be with you, travel safe,” he said then turned and walked away.