Broken Aro (The Broken Ones) (4 page)

Paul pointed his bloody sword at the men running
toward them. "Masons, forward!"

Chapter 2

Waking up in Fun
Places

Her eyes opened to darkness.

She wasn't surprised. When bad things happened and you
finally opened your eyes it was always dark wasn't it? Because otherwise when
you woke up you wouldn't be scared, not right away, not until you remembered.
Yet in darkness nothing else could be seen but the memories of what had
happened, it didn't matter if you opened your eyes or kept them squeezed
closed.

What happened…

She closed her eyes again, not against the memories,
but the sudden tears and choking sobs. Still, she tried to
not
remember,
but her head hurt. All of her hurt, but her head hurt the worst. She'd been hit
by something, very hard. She had no trouble remembering the pain. She
remembered falling to the ground, her brothers screaming her name over the
insane loudness of the fighting and everything fading to nothing as darkness claimed
her.

She sucked in a deep breath. The fighting. Yes, the
city had been attacked. The walls had been breached. There had been fighting in
the streets.
She
had been fighting. Her brothers had been trying to get
her out. They had been so close. Had they?

She shifted and froze, terror creeping up her throat and
choking her at the same time until nothing but a strangled gurgle came out.

They had not.

She knew because she felt the cold metal shackles
around each wrist, felt the weight of the chain between them. The same fetters
bound her ankles. Dirty straw prickled her cheek and the other smells of her
surroundings overcame her. They overwhelmed her and made her gag. The rank
scents of piss, shit and vomit almost covered the stale reek of sweat and the
tang of salt.

Salt.

She'd thought her head had just been spinning, but no,
everything moved, lurching and swaying. She was at sea.

At sea in chains meant only one thing. The rumors had
been true. The Gelanians had allied with the Franuan Slavers. Beneath the
combined attack, Kingsport had fallen and the Frans had taken their cut,
citizens to sell as slaves. She was a slave.

Well that sucks
.

The idea terrified her, and left her cold and shaking.
Squeezing her eyes closed, she fought to push away the horrifying images
suddenly assaulting her. Breathing slowly helped a little. The shaking stopped
and finally she could breathe again.

She opened her eyes, straining them against the
darkness.
Had night fallen? Could that be why it was so dark?
Her eyes
slowly adjusted until she could make out vague shapes; the bars of the cell in
the ships hold and darker shapes of people sitting before her in the small
cell.

She concentrated, squinting her eyes and counting. Six
others shared the cell.
Her brothers?
"Paul?" The creak of the
ship and the murmurs, curses, and sobs of the other captives in the hold almost
drowned out her small voice.

"Boy's awake," one of the shapes said. Definitely
not one of her brothers.

She stiffened. They'd called her boy. Even after all
she'd been through, it was quite a blow to her self-esteem. She frowned in
confusion for a moment, until she remembered. Her brothers had dressed her in
their old clothes, old bits of armor that sort of fit. They'd even hacked off
her long hair…

She cursed them under her breath again for that. Then
she almost smiled, remembering Sammy's face when he'd done it. Her brothers
were such morons. They always had been. Yet they'd been stuck with raising her,
and what did they know of girls? Her mother had died when she was four, and
losing her hadn't been easy on any of them.

Father had been a regiment Commander and away a lot.
They'd all managed to take care of her somehow, the younger of her brothers
watching over her until eventually they'd all joined the army. But she'd been
twelve by the time the youngest of them had enlisted. She'd been able to take
care of the house while they served their time on the border. They didn't worry
about her much. The army wives had helped, keeping an eye on her for them.

However, father had died two years ago at Demet's
Pass. It had been hard, losing him. Harder than when mother had died because
she hadn't been old enough then to know what it meant. Not seeing him at the
head of their big old table, with his gentle smile, had been tough on all of
them. It still was. It had been harder this past spring when her brothers had
all ridden out again. Because death had become something real, she knew they
might not come back.

She was fifteen now. Not really a child anymore. So
she had faked a smile and waved goodbye to them all when really fear had made
her want to scream instead. They had all come home, but with an enemy army at
their heels. They'd been afraid then, afraid for her. They knew things she didn't,
things like what would happen to a young girl if the city fell. However, she
wasn't a woman yet, not in appearance at any rate. Tall and gangly with no
figure whatsoever. No wonder she could pass for a boy.

"Boy."

The man who had spoken before broke her thoughts. She
must have been hit in the head hard for her mind to wander back into the past.
She managed to croak an incoherent sound indicating she'd heard him.

"You alive over there?"

"Yes," she lied and waited. No one else
spoke. No one came rushing to her side. Panic quickened her breath as fear sped
her heart. Her brothers weren't here. If they had been they'd have harassed
everyone to find out where she was. At least… they weren't on
this
boat.
Unfortunately, the slavers had a whole fleet. They must be on another boat. She
had to believe that. She closed her eyes tightly again.
Yes, they'd been
placed on another boat.

Because if they weren't then they were all dead.

A silent sob shook her when it sunk in she was alone.
Curling into a tight ball, she covered her mouth with dirty hands, trying to
stay quiet. Her brothers weren't here, quite likely they were dead. Tears
slipped down her cheeks in a steady stream. Overwhelming fear shuddered through
her body. Her life revolved around her family and her brothers. They were
everything to her. Without them she didn't have anyone. Now, when she needed
them the most, they weren't here. She would never see them again. Her heart
sped up, banging against her chest so hard it hurt. Everything hurt. She
couldn't breathe. Everything started spinning. Panic and hysteria overcame her,
drenching her in darkness once again

* * *

The screaming wouldn't stop. She opened her gritty
eyes, and brushed new tears away. The screams tore at her insides. She pulled
her hands from her ears. They didn't block the sound much anyways. She sat up,
wincing at the faint light. Her head throbbed painfully. Her stomach wasn't
feeling too great either and the screams made it worse. People were laughing at
the same time and she couldn't figure out why. It didn't make sense.

She looked up to find all the men in the cell staring
at her. When she'd sat up, she'd come out of the shadows. She lowered her eyes
quickly, ducking her head so her shorn hair fell around her face even more. The
ship lurched suddenly and she gritted her teeth when her stomach lurched with
it.

One of them sighed. She glanced up to see him jerk his
head in the direction of the front of the ship. "They're just at the women
again."

They must have thought she'd looked sick because of
the screams. She'd been getting to that, her brain had simply been working
slower than normal.

She almost did throw up when his words sank in. The
women screaming, the slavers laughing, she knew what was happening. Though her
brothers tried to keep her in the dark about certain things, she wasn't an
idiot.

Looking around the cell again, she scuttled further
back into the corner and pulled her knees up, holding them tightly when she
started to tremble.

She'd been lucky. The slavers had thought she was a
boy when they'd sorted out their new captives. She closed her eyes and rested
her forehead on her knees. How long would her luck last before they realized
she wasn't a boy? She couldn't do this. She didn't know how, she had no one to
help her.

She cringed at another tormented scream.

The men started talking quietly again and she raised
her head a little, peeking over her knees. Not all of them. Five of the men sat
close together in the center of the small cell. Another sat over in the other
corner, hiding in the shadows like her. She knew he was a man, just from what
she could see of him. He looked tall and built wiry, like her brothers.

She looked back to the other men. Three were burly,
broad of shoulder, and had big muscles. All were obviously fighters. Another
looked thinner, but that might have been due to his youth. The last one was
shorter, smaller.

She suddenly noticed one of the burly ones staring at
her again and she ducked her head quickly, hoping they'd ignore her.

"Boy. Boy. Boy."

The man kept repeating himself, getting angrier each
time.
Rot it
. She didn't want to talk. She peeked up again. Yes. He was
glaring at her now.

"Don't frighten the young pup," one of the
others muttered. She didn't know which one.

"Boy," the man said again. "What
regiment were you in?"

She stared. They actually thought her old enough to be
in the army? Or did they just want to see what she would say or if she could be
trusted? "I'm not." She flushed, relieved the dim light hid that she
did so. "Wasn't."
Gah!
She couldn't speak. If only her head
would stop pounding and her stomach would stop lurching about.

They were all staring at her again, even the one in
the corner. She tried to get her mind in order while wishing the cell wasn't so
small. A bigger cell she could disappear in, hide in the shadows. "I'm not
in the army," she finally managed, trying to keep her voice low.

One with dirty blond hair raised his eyebrows. "You're
wearing army issue." He said it calmly, but she knew from the slight cock
of his head he didn't like the fact.

She wasn't surprised. It was against regulation for
someone not enlisted to wear army issue. She looked at her knees, at the dyed
leather covering them. Her brother's pants. Her hand went to her chest and she
grimaced at the absence of the leather armor. Only the thick cotton undershirt
remained. The slavers had also taken her weapons. She couldn't feel the
familiar weight of her knives at her sides. It seemed the only thing they'd
left had been her greaves, probably because they were so small and not in very
good shape.

"Boy…" The first man spoke again, clearly
losing patience with her by his tone.

"My brothers," she said quickly. Saying the
words brought a sudden pain to her chest. "They were trying to get me out
of the city."

Silence met her comment and she looked up again. They
all continued to look at her, but at least they didn't look angry.

One with black hair hanging just past his shoulders,
the one who'd spoken to her first, began looking at her very intently though.
She looked back at him. He looked a little familiar. Had she seen him somewhere
before? It was possible. Her brothers had been popular and had a number of
friends in most of the regiments.

He spoke next, a faint wry smile coming to his lips. "And
we are waiting for you to tell us who they are."

She blinked rapidly. Oh. Yes, of course they were. "The
Masons. Paul, Elliott…"

The blond choked. "The seven Mason brothers?"

A bit of pride welled within her and she nodded
quickly. Of course, if these brutes were in the army they'd know of her
brothers. They'd been well known throughout the country, famous from all their
exploits and successes in battles.

"You're Commander Mason's son," the smallest
one said and she nodded again, wishing she could see his face. However, where
he sat she could only see a shadow in the faint light.

The dark haired one stared at her, eyes wide. Before
she could react he scrambled over to her side, putting his face right before
hers, his hand tilting her chin up. Fear froze her in place.

"Aro?" He stared incredulously at her.

Her mouth opened in surprise and he sat back suddenly,
looking like someone had punched him in the gut. He chuckled unexpectedly. The
noise sounded so out of place, tears threatened again.

Yet, his laughter, she knew it. She'd heard it before
at home. She struggled to remember who he was. One of her brother's friends
obviously. When they had been home the house overflowed with them. She'd loved
it, the laughter and the jesting and the cussing. They'd treated her like a
little sister while she'd danced around serving them drinks and food. For once
she was glad everyone had always called her Aro and not her given name, Arowyn.
Aro was more of a boy's name than a girl's. He hadn't just given her away.