Private Tales The Last Ride

[Brackard Cain]

Sloan

Twenty years ago

The regiment was not quiet as it marched beyond the edges of the forests. Braying horses, hundreds of falling hooves and the laughter of men and women. An elven scout would hear them from a mile away. That was the point. They were making a show so that the elves knew the power Vel'Anir had deployed to the region.

They also rode just beyond bow range from the edges of the forest. Occasionally one of the elves showed themselves. Twice and arrow had been loosed in their direction and fallen short.

Brackard thought it was glorious fun. He had no magic but he was the undisputed leader of this regiment. Even after weeks in the field his uniform was prestine on his broad shoulders, his sleek hair drawn back into a ponytail. The slightly curved saber at his belt had a fine scabbard and he was known to be one of the finest swordsmen in the army. Only Victor Yeaves had defeated him in the last fencing championships in the Square.

"Should we sent a scout to ride close to the trees do you think? Give the elves a little practise?"

 

[Sloan]

Sloan rode by Brackard's side, between he and the tree line that she silently watched with a soft frown of consternation whilst the rest of the regiment made their noise and enjoyed themselves. Her hands rested on her thighs, upturned as her fingertips ran across each fingertip and back as she awaited some savage knife ear to break cover and attack. Her twin brother, Silas, rode a few lengths back, his expression mirroring hers as he too remained alert to any possible disturbances.

She turned her head to face Brackard before he'd even spoken, called to attention and eager to take instruction, serve and make an impression. She'd been on a handful of missions already, but being assigned to Brackard had been an exciting prospect for the young Dreadlord. He was.. impressive. She'd had the opportunity to train with him, she'd never seen better, and it took all the eighteen year old had not to swoon and blush every time he spoke to her.

"Captain." she dipped her chin obediently and turned to find her brother's gaze. She didn't have to speak to the man, not aloud anyway, and he turned his horse about and called for their scout. A young recruit, around the same age as Sloan or perhaps a year or so younger rode out, seeming quite empowered by his task of drawing out a few knife ears.

Dark brown eyes returned to Brackard, she'd been about to speak when a mental nudge from behind her caused her cheeks to heat and she shot a scowl back at her grinning brother. "We have around two hours of good light left, Captain. Will we be making camp?" she asked and cleared her throat and returned her attention to the scout, proudly galloping along the edge of the forest.

 

[Brackard Cain]

Brackard always noticed what was going on around him. The small things, the little reactions people made that revealed their true intentions. He was simply too busy enjoying life to generally care.

There was some kind of bond between her and her brother. The furtive glances at a distance. He didn't understand magic.

He did understand over protective brothers. Brackard had run ins with more than a few of them. Normally when female officers were deployed with their brothers it was to protect the family reputation.

It was unfair that some fun out in the field camp could lead to shame for the woman's family raising an army bastard. It was unfair in a way that suited Brackard so he didn't give it much thought.

In this case he suspected the twins might follow a similar path for a very long time.

No arrows came flying out of the shadows at the scout. The elves were either not present or too bored to take the bait.

Brackard flashed the young dreadlord a disarming smile. He lifted a gloved hand from his reigns and pointed to a rise that put more distance between themselves and the woods.

"You want to set the scouts? I think we might break out a little more of the rum rations tonight."

He looked around and leaned closer for a conspiratorial whisper: "And I snuck some wine on the wagon for the officers camp."

 

[Sloan]

That smile though. The man's rugged features were frustratingly alluring. His raven black hair combed back and his face carefully structured, his eyes a hickory as rich as the earth after a torrential rain, as if the gods had molded him just to spoil the her eyes...Fuck, she was swooning and she knew it, her cheeks warmed and she followed his pointed finger to the rise and cleared her throat with a sharp nod. Mentally trying to kick her brother's taunts from her mind.

"Yes Captain." she nodded, and Silas with a few other men rode ahead without so much as a look from her. She wouldn't be leaving Brackard's side, she wasn't supposed to. Not that he required her protection against means of mercenary attack, but elves were known to use magic and she was his shield should he require it.

Her brow arched as she looked back at him, rum and wine, everything about it screamed bad idea, but she wouldn't argue, it wasn't in her nature to do so. "Very good, Captain.. Perhaps, one or two would make for a pleasant evening." she returned a warm smile and looked down. Sloan didn't drink, it clouded her bond with Silas and slowed her reactions, then again, perhaps getting her brother out of her mind for a night would give her a little peace. She was at an age now where her private thoughts really ought to be her own.

Arriving at the clearing, the scouts had cleared the area and posted themselves as lookouts. Tents were quickly being set up, horses unsaddled and a large fire was already beginning to smoke for the evening's supper.

 

[Brackard Cain]

Around a fire the senior officers were engaging in Captain Cain's very favourite game: listening to him boast.

"And you were there weren't you Jarrick? Your first real battle?" Brackard asked, pointing at one of the junior officers.

"Yes sir."

Brackard's View returned to Sloan across the fire. He was barely hiding who he was trying to show off to tonight. The enlisted had done much of the work setting up the camp, but they seemed in better spirits being permitted a portion of rum each.

"So finally after I rode to the general's camp we were allowed to bring the reserves up. The entire right flank was collapsing so we rode beyond the flank and wheeled around. We charged Hardford's footmen from the side and tore through them like wet parchment. You ate Rosh took their standard didn't you, before I ran down Hardford himself? Whatever happened to Rosh?"

"He took a crossbow bolt, that battle sir."

"Oh, so he did. So he did. To Rosh," Brackard called, holding up his mug.

"Sloan. You must have some good stories from wherever it is you learn how to command magic?" Brackard called across the fire, smiling at her.

 

[Sloan]

He didn't have to try hard to impress her, she'd seen him fight, and he was her first infatuation. She drank in his words and sipped at her second mug of rum, which was going straight to her head, causing her brother to sit brooding and glaring at her until he got up and stormed off. Brackard had insisted, she wouldn't deny direct instruction. She smiled more, now that alcohol had calmed her nerves a little, and she laughed along with the men by the fire.

She found herself lost for words as he spoke her name, a flutter in her stomach as he smiled at her. She smiled back. "I..." she paused and laughed under her breath "None that compare to yours, Captain." Sloan's training had been pretty regimented since she could remember, ruthless and the stories would only depress the company. "Perhaps I'll have plenty to tell when we return home." she grinned, staring at him over the rim of her cup as she took another drink.

 

[Brackard Cain]

"Oh we will draw a few knife ears out of hiding before we ride back I'm sure!" Brackard agreed. He was the kind of cavalry officer that didn't see the need for a fair fight to find honour. Sweeping up the fleeing lines from the back of a horse was terribly good sport.

He did not miss that her twin had walked away on an exasperated sigh. An opportunity.

"The last Dreadlord we had along for a patrol killed...how many was it again?"

"Sixteen sir."

"Sixteen of them. I'm sure you could do better if we see some action!" Brackard laughed, before finishing his mug of wine.

 

[Sloan]

“Is that all?..” Sloan responded confidently and lifted her shoulder in a shrug. Sloan didn’t kill for sport, she didn’t particularly enjoy it like these men seemed to, she killed because it was what she was trained to do and because she was told to do it. But she wouldn’t miss her opportunity to impress Brackard if these were the sorts of things that impressed him.

“If I don’t kill at least forty I’d consider it a failure on my part.” she added smugly and rose her mug along with the rest of the men and downed the rest of her drink.

 

[Brackard Cain]

"I am sure you will," he agreed. "Don't expose your magic too soon. Wait for the chaos. They will target sorcerers from a distance if they're exposed."

Breckard was always quick to dispense advice. He trusted his own voice far more than anyone else's. Besides, people loved to hear his stories.

He stood up and shook the last of the wine from his mug. He walked around the fire, approaching the dreadlord. It wasn't subtle, but he rarely was.

"Take a walk to check the scouting posts with me?" he asked with a wry smile.

 

[Sloan]

Sloan gave a slow nod at his advice and her eyes followed him as he got up and approached her. Was he really interested in her? Her body numbed as he approached, and she became painfully aware of how tipsy she felt, but it made her far less shy than she might normally have been and her lips performed their most perfect of smiles as she reached a hand to take his in agreement. She ignored the not to subtle grins from the other men. If Brackard had to go anywhere then it was only right that she ensure he was accompanied...it was her job.

She sighed deeply as they walked, letting her head fall back to admire the dark skies and enjoy the freedom of being alone in her own mind, she even found herself uncharacteristically bold enough to entwine her fingers with his and press close to him.. "Captain. I do believe I'm drunk." she laughed quietly, her head resting against his shoulder.

 

[Brackard Cain]

By the stone builders she had no idea quite how stunningly beautiful she was. A few years and she would probably be in his position. Leading a force of Vel Anir into the wilds and soaking up the attention of the male officers.

"I believe you are too Sloan. And you were supposed to be out here protecting me," he mused, chuckling softly. He gave her warm hand a gentle squeeze. It wasn't a cold evening, though he suspected it was the kind of night that would leave the world sparkling in mist soaked spiderwebs by the morning.

"Maybe we shouldn't venture so far out? Perhaps a little food would help."

 

[Sloan]

Her teeth latched onto her lower lip to suppress a chuckle at his words "I am sure I could still fight well enough if called to action Brackard." she grinned, but cleared her throat and looked down as she realised she'd called him by name, she never did that. Her mind was a little fuzzy but she was pleasantly relaxed, she still had her wits about her, she was sure..

"I don't think you need my protection." she smirked, her dark hues falling to their linked hands as he squeezed and she looked back up at him with a quick nod and a gentle smile. "Yes.. perhaps it would." she agreed, studying his face now that she was no longer sober enough to hide exactly what she was thinking on her expression.

 

[Brackard Cain]

"Mmm," he went, a deep throaty sound that responded to the look in her eyes. He wore his smile so easily, despite the intensity that matched her gaze.

"You know I did bring along a small case of dried fruits. Back at my tent," he mused. Brackard rubbed his thumb alongside the back of her hand. He could not understand the full life of a dreadlord, but he felt that he understood enough about Sloan right now.

"But no brandy for you I do not think..."

 

[Sloan]

It was quieter here, and she could appreciate the alluring tone of his voice that sent a tingle rushing up her spine. She sighed, and bit down a little harder on her lower lip before releasing it into a bright smile at his words. Sloan would most definitely not have been so bold without the encouragement of a few mugs of rum and wine, but she gave a slow nod, suppressing a shudder at the touch of his thumb caressing her hand.

"Dried fruit sounds.." she sighed deeply, she hated fruit, but that wasn't why he was taking her back to his tent "...like I want that." she smiled, and her thundering heart flushing a little more colour into her cheeks..

 

[Brackard Cain]

God, the way she bit her lip like that sent a lance of arousal through him. It was a stark contrast from the awkward twist of fear the dreadlord assigned to his unit usually elicited.

At his rank he wasn't afforded the largest tent; he was not a colonel. It was still better than what the enlisted shared. A small fold out table with maps, the box of dried snacks and the bottle of brandy he brought along.

Brackard tugged off his riding jacket and tossed it casually over the back of his chair. His sword was left propped against the table. He poured himself a glass and offered a salacious grin to go with the drink. He held the bottle over a second glass.

"A small one?"

 

[Sloan]

That grin, he knew she shouldn’t, she knew she shouldn’t, but how in the gods’ name was she supposed to resist him? She gave a quiet huff and nodded “Perhaps just a small one..” she answered, feeling almost devious, but her thoughts were particularly private and she needed her brother to stay out of her mind. Somewhere, she could still feel his anger with her, and his brooding and sulking would only ruin her mood. One more drink should keep it at bay..

She stripped off her weapons and pauldron of armour, tousling her hair so that it fell in waves around her bare shoulders and leaning against the table beside him. She really wasn’t used to flirting, it was probably obvious, but her lack of sobriety helped her relax at least.

“Nice tent...” ...smooth.

 

[Brackard Cain]

"It fits on the wagons," he mused, swirling liquid gold around his glass.

He lifted the glass to his lips and tipped it back. Brackard never once took his gaze from hers. Perhaps a momentary drop the the fulness of her lips. Sloan probably didn't even realise the hold she had over him in that moment.

"I'll get one even nicer when I make colonel I think. No matter what they ask if you in Sloan, make sure you always get what you want in life too. I always get what I want."

He flashed his broad smile of bright white and carefully set the glass back on the table.

 

[Sloan]

She lifted the glass to her lips and sipped, not daring to rip her eyes away from him, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as he had eyes for her too.

His words caused a soft frown to crease at her brow and she knew then she’d never forget that piece of advice. She adored how he spoke and acted with such confidence, she knew he’d be a colonel one day. Perhaps she would be an archon. No, she would be, she wanted it. She wanted him.

She tipped back the brandy with a slight grimace and set the glass down before stepping in front of him, emboldened by liquid courage as she reached for his shirt and began loosening it, sultry eyes raised wandering across his chest before lifting to meet his gaze. “I accept your advice..” she smiled, her words tumbling out in a breathy sigh.

 

[Brackard Cain]

"Oh well then..." he said, grinning like the spoiled cat that he was. Brackard was quite content to watch her working with those buttons, even as the inebriation made it a slower task than usual.

"When you both want the same thing then all the better."

Reaching up slowly, he curled a finger around the tip of her chin. He tilted her head up to meet his gaze.

"And I do want you."

 

[Sloan]

She was biting on her lip again, but not in a nervous way. It came with a silent thought of excitement and disbelief that she was here at all. For the first time in her life, she didn't care about consequences, and she grinned at how reckless she felt. She was trying to be slow, tease him a little, but she was only teasing herself. He'd had her so tightly wound that now as a wave of inevitability washed over her, her pulse was already pitched to frantic.

In that split second before his touch every nerve in her body and brain was stinging with anticipation of being together in a way that's more than words, in a way that's so completely tangible. She shuddered slightly at his words, dark eyes on those lips of his. He was a drug. One touch and the intoxication was instant. Whatever he wanted to do is what she'd do and there wasn't a thing she would do to stop him - not that she'd want to. Just his scent sent her into a heady trance. To him, she was no doubt just another pretty face, something to enjoy like another bottle of brandy. But to her, he was everything.

Sloan pushed the shirt from his back, sighing softly as her hands moved over his chest and stomach. Touching him was like her heart was mended, despite never having been broken, and now she was grinning like a spoiled cat.. "Well.. You do always get what you want." she answered in a honeyed whisper.

"And it is my duty to ensure that your needs are fully met." she added, her fingertips trailing softly down his stomach to deal with his belt, entirely sure her heartbeats were audible.

 

[Brackard Cain]

Gods but when she bit on this full lips again he felt as if his heart was about to stop. This was the moment. It was the last breath of a cavalry charge, right before the sides collided, before it was a tangle of limbs and cries and exquisite chaos.

He grinned as her hands sailed across his chest, taking in a sharp breath that caught in his throat. It came out as a deep, breathy groan. There was no point pretending now. Brackard wasn't calm and relaxed, wasn't going to enjoy her like a fine brandy. The heady anticipation had been drawn so taut something had to snap.

Brackard didn't dare throw her shirt over her shoulders to interrupt the vital work her hands were doing. Instead he just dribbled a finger down the side of her jaw, a ghost of a touch across her clavicle and lower.

He murmured soft litany for the glorious sight before him without using a single coherent word.

 

[Sloan]

The candles that cast a warm glow had long since diminished, the tent a mess of strewn clothes and tangled limbs after a night so passionate her skin still tingled under a glistening sheen of sweat. She never wanted to leave this tent.

A cool breeze whispered in and rolled over her, reminding her that she was naked, that he was too, but the sun hadn’t begun to rise and she smiled despite her pounding headache and nuzzled into his chest to drift off for another hour or so.

She must have dozed for another five minutes, a glorious five minutes she’d taken very much for granted. Another breeze swept in, fluttering at the tent, bringing with it a strangled cry of a dying man.

“Brackard.” She sat up, heart and head pounding instantly. Another cry.. another. Yelling, screaming, the orange glow of fire and the smell of smoke wafting in.

SLOAN!!!! Her brother was searching for her, she heard his voice, somewhere outside, her mind still much too clouded to hear anything there. She fumbled and staggered as she pulled on her clothes at record speed and grabbed up her weapons. She didn’t have time for armour.

“Silas!!” she called for him as she stepped outside the tent, but she wouldn’t leave it’s vicinity until Brackard did. Two elves were already hurtling toward her and she threw out her hands to repel them backward, though she was too slow to stop the arrow that sliced through her cheek and she gasped. How had she not spotted that?... What had she done?

“Elves!” she warned Brackard, and swung her spear at the throat of another.

 

[Brackard Cain]

He emerged into a world of chaos. Despite his best efforts he could make no sense of it. There were elves running through the camp with spears and wickedly curved swords. Brackard saw several men trying to rush from their tent, only to be skewered.

"What happened to the damn sentries!" he cried.

Sloan was bleeding. He knew the type of wound and it looked worse than it was. The face always bled a great deal from even a slender cut.

"Do not let them reach the horses!" he cried out at the top of his lungs. That made him a target for several more elves and an arrow hissed past his shoulder. His eyes burned from the morning sun and he couldn't keep his balance, but he would damn well swing until he cut down a knife-eared bastard or two.

"I need my horse."

 

[Sloan]

It was utter chaos. Fires scorched the tents, horses fled, men fought and fell and arrows rained down on them all. Sloan desperately searched for Silas amidst fending off another three elves who'd encircled her, but her spear tore one up quickly from balls to brain and buried itself in the throat of the next. The third fell to his knees, clutching at his head and screaming in agony without so much of a scratch before she put him out of his misery too, her weapon driving down into the nape of his neck and he fell.

There were so many of them, they kept coming at her and she kept tearing them down, her shield up against arrows that flew toward her or Brackard. Gods her head pounded so much that her vision distorted and she cursed herself. "I need eyes behind me!" she grunted back to Brackard as she cut another elf down and began to move out, hoping he'd stay close enough for her to shield. She couldn't leave him unguarded and so he'd have to go with her if he wanted to get to the horses.

She could see the horses, the captain's horse rearing in panic, but there stood another nine or ten elves acting as a barrier, their bows nocked and shooting, arrows ricocheting in mid trajectory and falling to the dirt. "Go!" she barked at Brackard, and her body shook as she sent a shockwave enough to send them all hurtling back through the air. It was his opportunity, and she'd watch his back as he took it.

 

[Brackard Cain]

Emerging from the tent with a Dreadlord - no matter how hungover - had its advantages, She ripped through the nearest elves with abandon. He pulled his saber from its scabbard and tossed the sword belt aside. No time for that now, nor to don any armour. It would leave him exposed to arrows.

An elf, perhaps recognising some form of rank, charged at him. Brackard swung hard, the sound of his blade being parried rang out. He swung three more times, driving the elf back but never finding the strike.

In a duel he would have found some begrudging respect for his opponent's skill. Now it was a matter of life and death. So rarely he had faced others on the battlefield as equals on foot. Brackard tried to settle his mind, find his rhythm.

To a quick cadence two more classes of steel range out. The third was a wet thud, his curved sword embedded in the elf's neck. That had been too close.

"Go!" she barked at Brackard, and her body shook as she sent a shockwave enough to send them all hurtling back through the air. It was his opportunity, and she'd watch his back as he took it.

He didn't like being ordered around, but he saw an opportunity. "To me!" he called out, hoping to attract a few more of his men. Even a wedge of nine horses could cut a swathe through these wretched elves.

Brackard ran, slowing only to dispatch the two elves closest to his run that tried to get back to their feet. Several other officer's joined up and mounted up.

It gave him a view over the chaos. Elves beyond the camp were spread out in a skirmish formation, laying down arrows when they could. Others rushed through the camp sewing carnage. There was no clear place to strike, no real target.

"Sweep the perimeter!" he cried. In the open ground they could cut down as many as possible, perhaps forcing those within the camp to retreat.