“Lehgan,” she squealed.
Two thoughts occurred to her simultaneously, one an instinct, the other bred through years of riding: Protect the baby. Get your foot clear of the stirrup.
If her foot caught, she’d be dragged behind the horse, and then it wouldn’t matter what she did to protect her child. Although the horse hadn’t yet gotten up to speed, it wouldn’t slow down when it noticed her bouncing against the ground beside it.
Half-on, half-off the horse, Emeline twisted and wrenched her foot free, then twisted again to put herself between the baby and the hard ground. Her grip tightened, her muscles tensed, and she felt for a moment like she was floating, weightless and carefree as a bird.
The ground brought her back to reality.
Her back slammed against the dirt road, bones jarring with the impact, breath forced out of her lungs. A gray cloud clawed at the edge of her vision, seeking to steal her consciousness, but she willed it away and felt Iana writhe in her grasp, though-through her struggle to find air to feed her lungs-she heard no cries of pain or panic from the baby.
Laying on the ground, she stared up at the night sky, at stars twinkling against the black tapestry. The first flakes of snow tumbled down from on high, floating and twirling as they danced toward the ground. Despite the panic in her chest, she felt awed by the tranquillity of the darkness above and the falling snow. Not until Lehgan slid off his horse and stood over her blocking the stars, his lips moving without sound, did she realize she couldn’t hear anything.
Her husband crouched beside her, grabbed her shoulders. She saw desperation in his eyes, strain upon his brow, but she couldn’t figure out how to respond. He stared at her for a few seconds, the look in his eyes giving her the impression he held himself back from shaking her, then he looked up and away from her.
His expression changed and he stood, backing away a step. Her eyes followed him. His lips moved; he shook his head. Emeline shifted her gaze the other direction and saw the horses stopped a few yards away. Two of the soldiers dismounted and she realized where she was and what had happened.
Her breath returned along with awareness, and with her breath came the searing pain in her back and the screams of her child in her ears. She struggled to sit up and comfort Iana, hoping the baby was scared and not injured, but one of the soldiers put his foot against her chest and pushed her back to the ground.
“Stay put, wench,” he said.
The pain of the pressure of his foot against her achingly-full breast was nothing compared to the torment of her back hitting the ground again. Emeline fought back a scream and held Iana tighter against her shoulder. Two of the soldiers jumped past her and she saw one rip the sword out of Lehgan’s scabbard as the other grabbed his arms behind his back. Lehgan did nothing to stop them.
The man who pushed her down loomed over her. The week’s-worth of stubble on his cheeks was ginger-colored, though the hair trailing out from under his open-faced helm appeared blond. He showed her a menacing smile; one of his front teeth was missing.
“You’re a pretty one, ain’t ya?”
He poked his finger out toward Iana but Emeline twisted away sending a fresh explosion of pain along her injured back.
“No. Leave her alone.”
Her voice was shrill and panicked to her own ears and she felt a twinge in her belly that she couldn’t find enough control in herself to sound threatening instead of fearful. The soldier laughed and held out his hands.
“Give me the child and we won’t hurt it.”
Emeline shook her head painfully and felt tears roll down her cheeks. Iana’s distressed shrieks rang in her ear. Barely distinguishable over it, she heard Lehgan shouting, but his words soon stopped. She glanced his direction and saw his head hanging, one soldier holding him up as the other rubbed his knuckles, then the man with the missing tooth grabbed for Iana and Emeline forgot about her husband.
He got one hand around the baby, his fingers digging painfully into Emeline’s breast; she struggled to hold on, but the soldier’s strength and the pain in her back worked against her. The man wrenched Iana free from her grip and she screamed again in rage and panic. He stood, foot planted on her chest, easily holding her in place as he gestured for the man rubbing his knuckles to take the baby from him.
“What do you want me to do with that?”
“Just hold it,” he said leering down at Emeline. “These two’ll behave better if the child is alive.”
“But-”
“Take the damn whelp. I’ve got some work to do here.”
He handed Iana off to the other man then reached down, threw off the blanket wrapped around her shoulders and grabbed the bodice of Emeline’s dress. She clawed at his hand, but the leather glove covering his fingers and the thick fabric of his coat rendered her attempts useless. He yanked hard, wrenching her back and lifting her a couple of inches off the ground. When that didn’t produce the desired result, he grabbed on with his other hand, too.
“No,” Emeline whimpered. “No. Please give me my baby back.”
“You’ll have your whelp back soon enough.” He tore her bodice open and crouched on top of her, sitting on her hips.
Emeline felt the cold air on her bare breasts, the pain of their fullness, the weight of him on her bladder making her want to urinate, but it all disappeared as he leaned forward, grabbed her by both wrists and pinned her to the ground. A second later, his mouth found her ear. Her world became the slobbering sounds of his tongue on her ear and neck and the hoots and hollers of the other soldiers.
And the pains.
The man tried to put his mouth on hers, but Emeline turned her head away. Through the blur of her tears, she saw Lehgan being held by a Kanosee soldier. He’d raised his head and a line of blood ran from the corner of his mouth to his chin; he was looking at his wife, watching what the man was doing to her. Lehgan didn’t struggle against the soldier’s hold, he didn’t yell threats or offer words to comfort his wife, he just watched, an expression of defeat on his face.
One of the other soldiers grabbed her hands and the man sitting atop her moved his face away from hers. His now-free hands found their way under her dress, between her legs.
Emeline closed her eyes and bit down hard on her teeth wishing to be somewhere else, wishing that she hadn’t made this journey prompted by a ghost woman’s words. As flakes of snow melted on her burning cheeks, she prayed it would end soon.
***
Emeline opened her eyes and felt the hard ground under her back. Above, a few stars remained in the pre-dawn gray sky, but the snow had stopped without collecting on the ground; she must have slept a little after the soldiers finished with her.
The pain caused by her fall had mostly waned as a fresh discomfort between her legs usurped it. Four of the soldiers had forced themselves on her before it ended. She didn’t know how long it went on; she’d made herself retreat to a hiding place inside her head before the third man settled in on top of her.
She looked at Lehgan sleeping beside her, Iana snuggled tight against his chest, but jerked her gaze away. She wanted to snatch the baby away from him but knew she wouldn’t have the strength. After seeing Lehgan stand watching without making a sound in protest while the soldiers raped her, she didn’t want to see his face. After seeing the stark fear in his expression freeze him from at least trying to come to her aid, she wasn’t sure she would ever look at him the same again.
“You will forgive him. There was nothing he could do without forfeiting his life.”
The voice didn’t startle Emeline, nor did it surprise her when she saw the ghostly woman standing over her.
“He could have tried,” she replied, the whispered words forced between her clenched teeth.
The ghost woman crouched at Emeline’s side. “I know it’s difficult to understand now, but all this must happen to reach the needed outcome.”