The Lost Mercenary

By Elyzabeth M. VaLey

All he ever wanted was a family and some land for farming. Instead, his dreams were ripped at the seams by a ruthless king. Choosing to become a mercenary, Gregorii has roamed the land clinging to a past he thought long gone—until Emmeline stumbled onto his path. Now, his dreams resurface and hope reemerges. The only problem is Emmeline’s defiance.

Emmeline has a secret. An important secret. A dangerous secret. Few know her mission. Fewer know her past. When Gregorii turns up in her life, past, present and future unite and her whole world threatens to crumble.

How long will she be able to hide the truth from him? How long will her heart resist the inevitable?

Be Warned: anal play, multiple partners, forced seduction, bondage

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Publishing
• Release date: Nov 10, 2012
• ISBN: 9781771301732

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Published by Evernight Publishing at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2012 Elyzabeth M. VaLey

ISBN: 978-1-77130-173-2

Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Editor: Natascha Jaffa

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

The journey seems endless but I’ll carry on/ The shadows will rise and they will fall/And our night drowns in dawn. /Amidst all tears there's a smile…

(Ville Valo –HIM- The Path)

THE LOST MERCENARY

The Mercenary Tales, 3

Elyzabeth M. VaLey

Copyright © 2012

Prologue

His lips did not part as his body fell into empty space. A guttural scream pierced the air around him and his eyes rolled back into his head, only to pop open when he hit the icy water with a thunderous splash. Salt water filled his mouth and created a burning path inside his aching body. Kicking and flailing his arms, he frantically searched for the surface. His head shout out of the water and he struggled to breathe, coughing and gasping for oxygen. A wave crashed against him, submerging him underwater once more. The pressure of the ocean combined with his clothes weighed him down. Desperately, he clawed at the water. His joints began to ache and protest, the wound at his side throbbed mercilessly, making him nauseous. The realization that time was running out hit him. Panicking, his movements became choppy and uncoordinated. His lungs burned with lack of air as more water filled his mouth. The pain turned into a distant numbness as darkness enveloped him. His limbs quieted as the notion of reaching the surface became a faraway dream.

Grinning, two young boys quietly rushed through a path among the yellow cornfields. Pointing with his finger, the one in the lead indicated their destiny: a worn down hut. They picked up their speed, not minding the scratches created by the maize’s rough leaves that brushed against their tanned arms. As they reached the little house, they heard the women’s chants. Quietly, they walked to the back of the hut and spotted the broken wood and the open hole near the ceiling. Just like they’d been told. There was no argument between them as the younger boy crouched and waited for the other to sit on his shoulders. Balancing himself atop his friend’s shoulder, Gregorii peeked into the roughly built shelter. Swaying and chanting, the women inside created a semi-circle around a young girl with large brown eyes and hair of the same color. Gregorii held his breath, waiting. As the women’s chants took a feverish pitch, the girl looked up and gave a gloating smile. Her robe dropped to her feet and Gregorii gasped. The circle around the girl closed and he lost sight of what occurred inside. He pulled his friend’s hair, indicating he could be let down now. Grinning, he ran off, the other boy rushing to keep up with him. A high-pitched scream echoed through the fields as they ran, laughing.

*

They waited. His hands did not stop shaking. He hated fighting. It didn’t matter how much training you had, you were never prepared, never ready for the smell of death lingering in the putrid air. The outer bailey was quickly falling and what women and children remained were fleeing into the fields. They would never make it. There was no place to run. Already the surrounding villages had fallen.

He didn’t know where the fire began, but suddenly it was raging. All hell broke lose. There were screams everywhere. Horses draped in protective barding and soldiers dressed in shining armor were upon them. There was no escape. Again and again he lifted his heavy weapon to kill the enemy. His arms became numb, his brain incapable of thinking anything rational. Terror and rage mingled as all he once knew evaporated before him.

"Retreat!"

The call of defeat came from afar. All around him, the village burned and his countrymen ran for cover. Mindless, frightened, and insecure, he placed one foot after the other unsure of his direction. Smoke blinded him and he stumbled. Something moved in the fog and he instinctively lifted his sword. A man gasped and he looked up, seeing for the first time. Green eyes filled with anguish and sorrow regarded him. His face and upper body were covered in soot and his arms were bloodied almost to his elbows. He bore no weapons. The man’s eyes riveted to the roaring fire behind them and Gregorii caught sight of metal distorting within the heat. Something clicked inside of him. The stranger screamed something at him. He shook his head. Throwing his weapon on the floor, he punched the man and carried him away. There would no more bloodshed on what was once Uhtred.

There was pain everywhere. Women, children and men cried. Everything they had once known was gone. Families destroyed; memories burnt to ashes. The people of the Uhtred were no more. He fell to his knees and wept. A strong hand gripped his shoulder and squeezed. When he looked up, the man with green eyes regarded him with compassion, yet his words struck a chord in him. Rise, we must get these people to safety or Ulrich will destroy all of you. You can’t fight back, but you can survive.

*

Years later, the same man looked down at him his eyes brimming with anguish. They’ve taken Tanya, we’ve got to find her. His friends: Conrad, Wybert, Tanya. They ran to do what they could.

*

He smiled at the couple, glad his friend had found peace at last. The petite redhead regarded him with a playful smile. Stepping toward her, he swept her into his arms and kissed her gently on the lips. We’ll be back before you start having little Conrad’s and Tanya’s crawling around the house, he promised her.

*

Months later, he wanders the docks with Wybert. The black giant teases him mercilessly as his unease grows with every step. A cat leaps from behind crates and he jumps in his skin, inciting laughter from his comrade. He joins his mirth, though it is short lived. Men assault them. Metal clashes against metal as their lives hang by a thread in the tangy air of the port. A groan of pain distracts him. He looks down and sees blood seeping through his chemise. Damn. A sickening noise causes him to turn.

"Wybert!"

Gregorii gasped as pain shot down his left side. His stomach clenched and bile rose to his throat. A wooden bucket was thrust into his line of view and he tried grasping it, but his fingers would not respond. Strong hands lifted his head and pulled back his hair as he vomited the contents of his stomach. Trembling, he laid back and closed his eyes drifting into uneasy sleep.

Chapter One

Land ho, Captain! the lookout called at the top of his lungs.

We arrive at Sieghard, Captain! the helmsman announced.

All hands on deck, prepare for portside dock!

Gregorii stood at the rail, watching as the ship sprang to life, men scurrying about with rope and tackle, preparing the vast machine for mooring.

He turned his back on the hustle and looked down at the clear water rushing below them. He had repeatedly offered his services to the Captain, but the man had brushed him off, insisting he would sink the boat before they made it into port. He smiled. There was no doubt his experience as a sailor was limited. He had spent the first half of the trip recovering from his almost fatal wounds and the other half sea sick. Only throughout the last few days had he finally adapted to life as a sailor.

A gust of wind blew his long locks into his face and caused goose bumps to rise underneath his vest and chemise. He shivered. Lukewarm sunlight streamed from between tufts of white clouds. Winter was imminent. Perhaps it would snow early this year. Who knew? From what he had heard, the weather this up north was unpredictable. The corner of his lips lifted as he recalled the tales Conrad had spun about those who lived buried in snow all year long. Tall tales. He snorted, both in amusement and in an attempt to brush off the ache that sprouted in his heart at the memory. A month at sea had helped him recover from his physical wounds, but not from the emotional pain.

Searching the pouch tied at his waist, he pulled out a ribbon and pulled back his hair while glancing at the fast approaching city of Sieghard, the kingdom’s capital. The lush green and brown of the mountains and fields around mingled with the grey of the impressive structure that stood high atop the city commanding and protecting, along with its high walls, the rows of huts and houses that cascaded and spilled onto the docks. A glimmer of light caught his attention and he observed the strong stone fortification overlooking the city more carefully. He imagined soldiers garbed in armor, standing atop the parapet, watching over the