The Binding: The Binding Saga, #1

By Sandy Frediani

Hunted for bounty, the Forest People live within the Great Forest, hiding from those committed to their annihilation. When a crime brings Brin and his People into the path of a long-time enemy, intervention by the Gods will change their lives forever.

　

Years later, that decision brings together Brin and Triana, the daughter of the assailant. An unforeseen bonding that hasn't occurred in centuries, weaves their two hearts into one. With her father's blind hatred standing between them, Brin and Triana must make an agonizing decision, one that will tear them apart or destroy Brin and his People.

　

The Binding embraces the fate of star-crossed lovers and the complications that dwell in the hearts of families, weaving together the paths of sworn enemies into an interlacing tapestry. Thus begins the saga of two families, spanning eight generations, in their journey to fulfill an ancient prophecy and keep a promise made by the Gods in the Before Time.

　

Recommended for readers 18 and older due to mature themes and sexual content.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandy Frediani
• Release date: Mar 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9781532370205

Book preview

Dedication

Rob Ashton

1968 - 2007

A bright star gone too soon.

You never knew what you gave me.

Charlie Wells

1942 - 2013

For your friendship, encouragement and confidence.

You are missed.

Acknowledgements

THE BINDING WAS FIFTEEN years from putting the first word on the keyboard to finally writing the last word.  Many people have helped this story grow from a four page short story.  Shortly after beginning to write, I joined an online writing list.  Many of those members saw parts of this story in its inception.  Their comments and suggestions helped a great deal, enough to get it to the Beta reader stage.  My Beta readers’ encouragement kept me going when I was ready to quit.  A smile and node to Mark Smith, a member of the Indie Writer’s Cooperative Facebook group for the name of a posh tavern.  And many thanks to Mariah Sinclair for the beautiful cover.

To each and every one who encouraged and helped bring this story to life, you have my profound thanks.

Chapter 1

Crime and Punishment

WARM SUNLIGHT OF EARLY summer filtered thinly through the heavy canopy of leaves, dancing dapples of brightness onto the Forest floor.  A soft breeze wafted among the trees, making the leaves flutter.  The doe raised her head, grazing stopped as her ears swiveled to catch any sound of approaching danger. Her dark liquid eyes sparkled as she searched, alert to every movement.  Sensing nothing, she flicked an ear and returned to her foraging, dismissing the odd shaped tree trunk not far away.

The hint of a content smile lifted the corner of his mouth as the young man leaned casually against the wide trunk, his only other movement the shallow rise and fall of his chest.  Reaching out with his mind, he gently sent a sense of peace toward the doe not wishing to disturb her.  Long black hair, pulled back and tied with a leather thong framed his handsome, clean-shaven face.  Black brows arched expressively over obsidian black eyes which twinkled in the dappled light.  His nose was straight, his mouth sensual.  Muscular arms crossed over his wide, bare chest, his torso tapering to a trim waist, lean hips and powerful legs snugly covered by leather breeches and knee high, soft leather boots.  A band of intricately worked gold wrapped smoothly around his upper arm and glittered softly in the sunlight.  A sheathed knife hung from his belt.  He carried no other weapons, for although he led a small band of hunters he’d not come to hunt.

Closing his eyes, he reached out mentally to the others, touching each in turn.  Satisfaction radiated through the mind seek.  Two bucks and six fat rabbits taken so far.  Enough to feed the camp well for several days.  Tonight they’d feast.  He opened his eyes and returned his attention to the doe.  Her belly hung heavy.  She’d give birth soon... a new fawn which would someday feed his people.  A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he let images of the previous night fill his mind.

The sweet taste of Rishal’s lips, the soft curve of her breasts and the warm silkiness of her sex.  Even the memories were enough to stir his blood.  He knew why she came to him.  She prayed for a child like Kerensa, the daughter he’d given Hallah two years ago.  His smile faded, brow furrowing slightly.  Fewer children were born each year.  His people were slowly spiraling toward extinction.  At twenty-five, he was the youngest Le’ir of the Forest People.  His duty was to see to their welfare and not having found a reason for, or a solution to, their lack of children frustrated him.  He said a small prayer to Those Who Guide Us for guidance, then mentally shrugged, setting aside the problem for another time and place.  For now, he’d savor this small release from his duties.

Abruptly the peace shattered, silent waves of fear/pain/shock surging along the mind seek.  The doe raised her head seeking what disturbed her, but the young man was already gone.  He dodged between tree trunks and around brush as he ran swiftly through the Forest, his footfalls almost silent.  His mind reached out searching for the source of the distress.  Sarana.  In trouble.  This was Sarana’s first time with the hunters.  He surged ahead pushing extra speed from his strong legs.  Halfway there, three of the other hunters, Uteb, Rilly and Neyst were only moments behind.  Hallah and Rishal were coming from a different direction.  Bursting explosively from the Forest, he was the first to arrive on the scene.

Not far from a fallen buck, Sarana lay on the ground half stripped, her moans barely audible.  A man knelt between her splayed legs, fumbling with the ties of his breeches.  Four long strides brought the young man close enough to grab the assailant by the back of his shirt and lift him easily from the girl.  Even before the attacker slammed into the ground behind him, the young man was crouched beside her.  The others would take care of the attacker.  His first concern was Sarana.  A brief glance took in all he needed to know.  She’d been beaten, large bruises beginning to show livid beneath the tear streaked dirt on her face.  One eye was already beginning to blacken and swell.  A trickle of blood trailed from a split lip.  Her cheek was scraped from just under her eye to the edge of her jaw, small bits of dirt and grass clinging to it.  She’d been fleeing when brought down.  Moving his gaze downward he saw the red marks around her throat, the bruises on her naked breasts.  Gently, he rolled her onto her side and sliced the thong around her wrists with his knife.

Her wrists were raw where she fought the bindings.  Hallah and Rishal emerged from the Forest and rushed over.  The young man stepped back, relinquishing her to their care.  Ignoring the sounds of the hunters dealing with her attacker, he watched as Hallah knelt and pulled the shuddering girl tightly against her, rocking her gently.  He waited patiently as the women helped her with her clothing.  Her soft sobs tore quietly into his heart.  Life in the Forest was hard enough without this.  When she was able to stand, Rishal gently helped her to her feet.  Swaying a little, Sarana faced the young man, her eyes downcast.  He regarded her silently for a moment, his impassive expression hiding the turmoil of his emotions.  Setting his hands gently on her shoulders, he looked down at the top of her head.  Small leaves and twigs were tangled in her disheveled hair.  He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.  She was so young to have this happen.  He shouldn’t have let her come.  Releasing his breath, he prepared to impress upon her the seriousness of her actions.  The safety of the People demanded it.  It was one of the most difficult things he’d ever had to do.

{You were told not to leave the Forest,} he said mentally.

{I know,} she replied, her mind touch tiny as a whisper.  {I’m sorry, Brin.}

{You fought well,} Brin returned.  Knowing she needed to feel it, he wrapped his strong arms around her and pulled her into a comforting embrace.  She buried her face against the strength of his chest and sobbed, tears streaming down her battered face.  He held her close, his hand gently smoothing her hair, feeling the trembling of her body.  Reaching out softly with his mind, he eased her fear and the pain away.  He lifted his gaze to Hallah and she stepped forward to gently take the girl into her arms.  Sarana stumbled, her legs threatening to give way and Rishal rushed forward to help.

{Can she make it back to the camp?} Brin met Rishal’s eyes.

Rishal nodded.

{Go then.  Take her to the Dhe’an.}

Rishal nodded again and Brin watched the women vanish into the deep shadows of the ancient trees.  Only then did he turn his attention to Sarana’s assailant.  Brin choked back his fury as he glared at the attacker.  The man stood arms outstretched, Rilly holding one, Neyst the other.  Massive Uteb, tallest and strongest of the hunters, a giant among a tall people, had his huge hand wrapped around the man’s throat lifting him just high enough to threaten strangulation.  A flicker of disgust passed quickly over Brin’s face as he raked his eyes over the man.

The attacker appeared to be about twenty and stood half a hand shorter than Brin, with short golden blond hair and pale blue eyes which glittered in indignation.  His tunic was dark green silk richly embroidered along the hem, up the front and around the neck.  His breeches were of finely woven black linen with intricate embroidery worked on the outside of each leg.  They sagged at the waist, the lacings pulled askew.  His feet were encased in snug black leather boots that rose to his knees.  One of the City people, Brin thought, probably a nobleman given his fine clothing.

Looking beyond the assailant, Brin spotted the horse grazing nearby. It wore a richly worked saddle and bridle.  The saddle blanket was heavily embroidered, the bridle’s bit elaborate with gold filigree.  On the ground nearby lay a silver studded sword belt, the gold hilted sword still in its sheath.  There was no reason to do what he’d done to Sarana.  Returning his gaze to the assailant Brin struggled to keep his face expressionless, his smoldering eyes the only visible sign of his barely contained anger.  Stepping close, he nodded to Uteb who released his grip on the man’s throat.

Take your filthy hands off me, spat the nobleman in rage, his voice hoarse.  He pulled against the men holding his arms.  Release me at once.

What happened here was a crime by anyone’s laws, Brin stated flatly.  He felt control of his anger slip and fought to contain it.

The bitch was asking fo—,

The statement hung unfinished as Brin’s hand whipped out, backhanding the man across the mouth, sending him reeling backward and nearly knocking everyone down.  Struggling to control his rage, Brin stepped away turning his back on the man.  Eyes closed, his shoulders heaved with the effort of regaining control.  He took slow deep breaths, clenching and unclenching his fists.  Once he regained control he turned to face the assailant again.  His dark eyes drilled into pale blue ones.

{Gag him,} Brin spoke silently to the hunters, {and bind his hands.  He comes with us for punishment.}

Uteb returned his grasp to the nobleman’s throat with a grin.  Struggles were met with a tightening of the huge hand.  Rilly pulled a braided leather rope from a pouch at his waist.  Jerking the man’s wrists together in front of his belly, he wrapped the rope around them and tied it snugly, leaving one end free.  Rilly cut two strips of cloth from the assailant’s tunic with his knife.  He stuffed one piece into the man’s mouth and used the other to bind it securely in place.

Prince Coryn nearly panicked when the huge hand closed around his throat again.  Thoughts crowded his mind as he hung passively in the giant’s grip.  Foremost was being strangled to death, but why would they bind and gag him if he was going to die?  It didn’t make sense.  Nothing made sense.  Who were these people and where did they come from?  They had no right to do this, any of it.  It was the girl’s fault.  He enjoyed the chase, but she shouldn’t have fought so hard.  None of the others did.  Didn’t these people know who he was?  Obviously not or he wouldn’t be treated like a common criminal.  His royal status entitled him to privileges.  No one ever complained before, not after he paid them a bag or two of coins.  He admitted being a little rough.  She wasn’t hurt that much.  She finally stopped fighting just before that devil with the gold armband pulled him off her.

He watched the men move around the area, ruffling the grass and doing other odd things.  What were they doing? They worked in total silence.  How did they know what to do without someone telling them?  How did the girl summon help?  She made no sound beyond the grunt when she hit the ground and the sobs later.  These men certainly showed up fast enough.  They couldn’t have been far away.  Maybe they were watching all along.  Coryn’s heart sped as fear swamped him.  A trap.  They’d set a trap and he walked right into it.  It still didn’t make sense, but he couldn’t think of anything else.  Fear threatened and he used it to fuel his anger.  He was helpless now, but sooner or later the chance to escape would come and when it did he’d be ready.

Leaving the assailant secure in Uteb’s grasp, Brin, Rilly and Neyst removed all traces of the struggle from the area.  Picking up the sword belt, Brin buckled the ends together, walked to the horse and tied it to the saddle.  He tied up the reins so the horse wouldn’t step on them and slapped its rump.  The horse threw up its head and trotted away.

Brin watched Rilly retrieve Sarana’s buck and sling it over a shoulder.  Uteb released his grasp on the man’s throat and tugged the free end of the rope as he followed the others into the Forest.  Brin swept his gaze over the surrounding area.  Satisfied all traces of their presence were removed he stepped into the welcoming shadow of the trees and walked to the waiting men.  Brin turned to Uteb.

{Blindfold him.  He need not know where our camp is.}

Uteb grinned and pulled a wide leather strip from his pouch wrapping it tightly over the man’s eyes.  Nodding approval, Brin led the way into the Forest.  Rilly carried the deer, Uteb dragged their prisoner along and Neyst brought up the rear.  Half an hour later they reached the spot where they’d left the other game.  Neyst shouldered the larger of the two deer.  Brin slung the remaining buck over his shoulder and picked up the string of rabbits, then led the way down a faint trail deeper and deeper into the trees.  Even burdened with game the hunters walked swiftly and silently.  The quiet of the Forest was broken only by the sound of the prisoner stumbling blindly along.  Irritated, Brin stepped aside sending Neyst and Rilly ahead.

Coryn struggled in the darkness of the blindfold using anger to push down his fear.  How dare they treat him like this?  How was he supposed to walk when he couldn’t see?  He stumbled over an unseen something and let the movement conceal his shudder.  No one had spoken since the one with the armband struck him which both puzzled and frightened him.  His thoughts were shattered as he blundered into a tree.  He thought it was a tree.  It felt like a tree.  A hand grasped his arm and pulled him along.  The fear rose again and he struggled to push it away.  He was the Crown Prince.  He would not cry like a child.

Brin deliberately set a fast pace, pondering the morning’s events as they moved through the Forest.  Sarana shouldn’t have left the safety of the Forest, even to claim her buck.  The camp needed the meat, but they might have lost her.  Things were too precarious to risk losing even one female.  Brin mentally winced at the blunt thought.  She’d already received punishment worse than any he’d have given, so he wouldn’t have to deal with that unpleasantness.  She wasn’t likely to repeat the mistake.  The sound of the prisoner falling was a welcome interruption to his thoughts.

Stopping, Brin shifted the deer on his shoulders and waited for the prisoner to regain his feet.  Brin saw cold amusement in Uteb’s eyes at the captive’s predicament and knew he was exacting punishment of his own.  Muttering curses behind the gag, the prisoner clumsily pushed himself upright.  His silk tunic was covered with debris and one leg of his breeches was torn showing a bloodied knee.  As soon as the captive regained his feet he was tugged forward again, nearly toppling into a tree before being guided