Tales of the Rope

Chapter 9: Klaw, the Barbarian

Moon Flower, friend and handmaiden to Arlia, moaned aloud her misery to the chill early morning air. The beautiful young woman of raven tresses and slanted eyes shivered both from the cold and from the painful position she found herself in at the hands of this crude barbarian from the northlands. Clothing had been roughly torn from her golden body and she was bound in a most uncomfortable position, her ankles lashed tightly together then pulled up to the great cross pole of the now burnt tent. Then her arms had been bound spread wide and downward to the posts such that she made an inverted Y, her long shining black hair tickling the ground beneath her. Her flesh shivered in fear and the cold.

Before the nude young woman stood a massive figure on a midnight black horse of such size to make all others seem puny. The giant figure was covered in wolf skins, and the long sword hanging from his belt was stained with blood from the dozen guards now lying lifeless on the ground. His hair was as black and as wild as the mane of his magnificent steed. Dark eyes gave his brooding and rugged features a sinister look as he gazed upon the trembling naked girl.

“You tell Sylon, woman! Hear me?”

The hanging girl forced herself to look up into the dark eyes. For a long second those two pairs of eyes held, then she spat at him, a useless gesture of defiance. The barbarian laughed loud, and then he suddenly lashed out with a short whip to touch her bare bottom with a blow that was more of sting than pain. “Hate me if you will, wench, but be sure you tell Sylon that Klaw rode off with his woman. I go north.”

A handful of minutes later the barbarian was only a spot disappearing over the rise. Moon Flower shivered and moaned again. The ropes cut deep into her ankles and wrists, tied there by a hand concerned only with making the girl truly helpless. Her forlorn gaze met only still forms of the guards Prince Sylon had send with them to protect Arlia. And a barren landscape of rocks and sand. Alone and cruelly bound on a little used trail, she wondered how long she would hang before someone came. Then she cried.

mountains and a valley with trees and a rushing brook of chilly ice-melt from the snows above. In the clearing, he unlashed the bundle from the back of his mount and dropped it none too gently to the grassy ground. It gave off a muffled cry of protest. Giving it a shove with his foot, the great bear skin unrolled

finest silk, purple as befitted her station, clinging to a form that would make a goddess envy. Breasts both large and firm heaved beneath the silk. Klaw’s eyes roved downward to the slender waist and

a maneuver made difficult with wrists bound behind the back. Then she stood and defiantly

will die,” she

“Someday,” was

will die when Prince Sylon catches you. And I

at.” Not seeming to mind the threat of death, he began

until she had halved the distance to the forest opening. Then she turned and ran. Just as she was about to plunge into the undergrowth of ferns a shape hurled past her ear with a swishing sound. Suddenly there was a dagger quivering in the tree before her. She skidded to a stop. Certain he could have driven that dagger into her back as easily as hit the tree, she turned and walked

all he

a long and bumpy ride. Threats seemed to have no effect. Running away seemed foolish. Even if she made it, she would be lost in a forest she did not know, dressed in flimsy nightclothes and with her hands bound behind her back. With feminine instinct she turned coy. “Would

Klaw ignored her.