Chapter 3

“Who are you?”

Helena stood rooted to the ground. The question was a deep growl that sounded like the grunt of an animal.

Her lack of response caused the men to look at one another before one of them finally moved to approach her. Survival instincts suddenly caused her to take a step, two steps backward. She almost stumbled but soon she turned around and started to run but she had one gone a short distance before one of the men caught her hand and whirled her around. She struggled against his iron clamp on her wrist but soon realized that struggling was useless since it only hurt her the more. Her wrist was red and she feared it might be bruised. Seeing that there was no escape for her she turned her face away from the men, her heart beating heavily in her chest.

“You’re hurting the woman,” someone said. Helena wanted to look. Much as she was scared of what the men would do to her she was still fascinated by the look of them.

She was no fool though, she knew what happened when mortal men surrounded a woman so she pushed her fascination aside and pulled her wits about her.

“Well, I simply need to know who she is,” the man holding her responded. He released her hand a bit and walked around her. Helena sneaked a look at him and looked quickly away.

The man laughed. “Why do you look like a scared rabbit?”

This time Helena glared at him. She was anything but scared and the one thing she hated was being referred to as scared or weak.

“I am not scared!” she spat surprised at herself for speaking the language fluently.

“So you have a mouth and voice?” the man said with humor in his voice. “ And you speak our language too so what are you? A spy? A Poulos?” His voice was firmer this time.

At the word Poulos which was the Eyrotian word for prostitute she yanked her hand free of his and slapped him hard across the face. His only reaction to the blow was to rub his smooth face before grabbing her hand roughly this time.

The other men began to hail him and chant. Some even encouraged him to rip her clothes off her and have his way with her. Some asked that he share her with them. Helena felt sick to her stomach at the thought that she would become an object of amusement to them. In all, there were six men. She began to shudder as the chant got louder. Just when she thought things were about to get worse a deep, commanding voice spoke.

“That is enough.”

At once the chanting came to a stop and deafening silence reigned.

Tempted by the thought that someone would have such authority over these raucous men Helena looked. At first, she saw nothing different,  then from the side of the vessel a tall dark figure vaulted unto the hot sand. When he straightened to his full height Helena’s breath left her in a rush. He towered over all the equally tall men. Robos was a tall being, huge and muscular but the build of this man put Robos’ to shame. His shoulders were so broad it was she wondered if he could fit the water vessel across his shoulders, as he took steps towards them his thigh muscles flexed drawing her eyes to them. Unconsciously her mouth water at his gait.

Embarrassed Helena looked away sharply. What kind of effect was this? How should she feel like this? She never felt this way about a man’s body before not even Robos’. True she appreciated Robos’ strength, his height, his beauty but this tall, dark, handsome stranger made her feel something different.

Once he was close enough she took a step back to accommodate his size and the man who had been holding her did the same. She expected this new stranger to reprimand her for slapping his comrade instead he turned towards the man and hit him hard across the chest that the man stumbled.

“Is this how you treat your wife, Banjo?” he asked in that deep sultry baritone that sent shivers down Helena’s spine. “Do you not know she is a woman?”

At this Helena rolled her eyes. Was he trying to be a knight here?

With her hands on her waist, she faced him.

“I can handle myself very well, sir, thank you very much.”

He turned to her and once again her breath left her. If she thought he was beautiful before she was sadly mistaken. His eyes were a storm, grey- almost white with an unfathomable depth in them. They twinkled with humor and a corner of his lips turned up when he said,

“And I appreciate a woman who can hold her own.”

Though it was a compliment her feminine pride argued that he was trying to insult her. She searched her brain for something smart to say but came up empty.

The man muttered something under his breath and with his smile still in place looked beyond her to the south.

“But you are very far away from the village even if you were one of us – which you are not.” He looked back at her with a raised brow. “Are a merchant? Or perhaps the daughter of one?”

“The daughter,” Helena said quickly. Her brain was too clouded to think properly.

With a nod, the man turned back to his men.

“Unless you are willing to go alone I’ll advise that you wait here until my men and I are done so we can take you back to the village.”

All reasonable thought told her to leave and find her way out of here but this strange man and his even stranger eyes held her rooted until she found the idea of having him escort her back to wherever too tempting to refuse.

With a slight nod, she replied,

"I'll wait." Not wanting to sound like she was the Poulus the men thought her to be she added, "because this world can sometimes be a dangerous place for a woman."

She didn't miss the smile of the handsome stranger.