"Remove your shoes and your dress," said Moragon, still sitting at his desk.
Amber heard the command like a stone hitting her stomach. Lord of the Sky, she could do this. She kicked off her shoes, and then slipped the strap from her left shoulder, followed by the right. Swallowing, she reached down and pulled the bottom half of her dress up to her hips, revealing the small scrap of white underwear she wore underneath. She then gathered the dress and pulled it up and over her head, letting it fall to the ground.
Amber heard Moragon's breath catch as she hung her head, her eyes closed, resisting the urge to cross her arms over her bared breasts. It was cold in the tent, and she felt her nipples stiffen.
She opened her eyes. Moragon started intently at her, his eyes travelling up and down her form, from her calves, up to her thighs, at the white undergarment that covered the area between her wide hips at the fork of her legs. His gaze ran over her flat belly and narrow waist to the pink nipples at the tip of her breasts. He finally looked into Amber's eyes.
"Turn around," Moragon said. "Let me get a good look at you."
Amber slowly turned.
"Stop," she heard his voice while her back was still to him. Amber halted her spin, for some reason more fearful now that she could no longer see him, her chest rising and falling.
"Take them off," Moragon said.
Amber again reminded herself why she was doing this. She had more than herself to worry about. She had to live.
She pushed the undergarment from her hips, moving her legs to allow them to fall to her ankles. Amber kicked them away.
"Good. Now turn around again."
Amber turned, and felt fear course through her. Moragon was up from his desk, standing close, in front of her. He looked over her one last time, his eyes burning over the most intimate parts of her body.
He suddenly grabbed Amber's arm and twisted it behind her back. He pushed her down to the hard floor.
She cried out.
~
WHEN he was finished, he did what all men did, closing his eyes and rolling over, heedless of the hard floor.
This next part was important.
Amber thrust out her hand to where a glistening sword stood on a rack nearby. She could just touch it with the tip of her finger. Amber ran her fingertip over the edge of the blade, making no reaction as it sliced through her skin. Compared to what she had done here, the pain was nothing.
Amber thrust her hand down between her legs and let the blood drip onto her thighs.
She nudged Moragon. "See, High Lord," she said, gesturing with her head.
Moragon opened his eyes, looking to where she indicated.
"I told you I was a virgin," Amber said.
Moragon saw the blood, and then grunted. "Are you still here, girl?" He sat up. "Get out of here."
Amber shakily stood, ignoring the messages of pain her body sent her. "Yes, High Lord." She looked for her dress, hurriedly pulling it on, and then slipped the heeled sandals back onto her feet.
"You'll get your food, girl."
"Thank you, High Lord."
Amber left the tent, trying to walk tall, ignoring the shared glances of the bodyguards; they'd probably heard everything.
"Here," the bodyguard who had searched her said, "I'll get you an escort, to take you back to the camp."
Amber didn't reply. She was already planning.
With increased freedom, she would be able to do more to help the other prisoners.
She would wait three weeks, and then she would visit Moragon again.
This next time, Amber would tell him she was carrying his child.
22
"THE gaps in a legionnaire's defences are in the throat, the pit of the arms, and the lower legs. Go for the throat first, but don't be afraid to hold him off and await your opportunity. Your opponents will be armoured and will tire faster than you will. Use this to your advantage." Rogan paused for breath, and one of the young Halrana raised his arm. "Yes?"
"What about the other men, the ones who aren't legionnaires? There are all sorts in the Black Army."
"That's a good question," Rogan said. "I spend most of my time talking about the legionnaires for two reasons. One is that they're the toughest soldiers you'll face, heavily armoured and well-trained with axes and swords. Another is that they're the leaders here. I don't want you to be afraid of them, I want you to go to them, take them out first. With the Tingarans out of the picture, the other soldiers will bolt. But," he finished, "never fear. I won't go easy on you. I'll also spend some time showing you how to fight against pikemen and macemen, and how to find the weak points on an imperial avenger."
Rogan straightened from the diagrams he'd been drawing in the sawdust he'd scattered over the expanse of the storehouse floor. His leg pained him and he winced, leaning on the walking stick. "Use the wooden swords and fight in pairs. I want to see bruises, but no broken bones, understand?"