Part 117

Part the One Hundred Seventeenth: A Rescue Comes In Time



Hope’s moaning started to get louder.  The beating Andrews had given her as a prelude to his intended ravaging gave her pain that ran through her entire body, like the resonance of a struck bell.


As sore as she was, as much as it made her want to curl up in a ball, Hope grabbed at the pain and channeled it into her voice.  Each wave of hurt she felt she willed to her throat, making it rattle in a long low but loud tone.  She strained with every breath to force more air out of her lungs, hoping that like putting the bellows to the forge would make the flames higher she could turn her moans into screams.


“Ah m’d ye sing, I di’ now,” said Andrews with a sick smile.  “I c’n  gu’ss wha’ ye be doin when I’m on ye righ’-”


Hé vous!


Andrews turned to see who was interrupting his torture.  Hope tried to get out of his grip while his attention was turned.


Vous restez à partir de elle!” said Charity as she ran into Andrews, her shoulder getting him in the chest like a bull goring an unwary farmhand.  Restez loin! Restez loin!


“Mis’le li’ piece,” Andrews spat out, standing his ground as he gained his balance.  “I’be a was’e o’ ye if I be tak’n’ ye d’n fi’s’ ‘fore I ha’ try ye too.”


Essayez-le vous foutu lâche!” she growled at him, tempting him forward with one hand to draw him on.  She even pursed her lips in a mocking kiss to bring on her opponent.


Andrews charged forth.  Hope did not spy what was in Charity’s other hand before it was too late-


Charity lunged into her opponent, her free hand pulling him in towards the knife held steady on.  She pushed the blade into him up to the hilt, then twisted it, making a cracking noise as she separated two ribs.


Andrews stood perfectly still as she drew back the knife and made another stab on the other side of his chest.  Hope watched the blood from the first wound spit out and spray the yard.


Charity drew back and lunged the blade into his stomach, then again and again.  With the fifth wound, he collapsed to his knees.


He turned slightly to look at Hope.  He opened his mouth but said nothing; only a sanguine flow spilled forth, slowing as his life passed from him.


Andrews fell face first at Hope’s feet, the blood from his mouth and many wounds starting to pool under him.  Charity grabbed Hope’s wrist and said in a low voice, “Ávance! We do not want to be here when they find him!”


Hope just looked down at Andrews’ corpse in shock.


“Come ON, you!  They find a woman over a dead man’s body, they will assume the worst and act on that the in harshest way they know!”


Hope did not run with Charity so much as she did not resist as the other woman led her quickly away and into the dark night…


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All content Copyright © 2009 James Ryan

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