Part 6 (1/2)

The boy pushed the sword away from his chin. ”I will not yield to you,” he said defiantly.

The man sheathed his sword, amus.e.m.e.nt in his voice. ”You already have.”

Nearly faster than the boy could see, the man reached down and grasped his loose cotton s.h.i.+rt. With one hand he lifted the boy off the ground and placed him in front of him on the horse.

Derek was still on the ground on his knees so the man spoke to his second-in-command. ”Make sure the woman and the girl receive safe pa.s.sage to their village.”

Without another word, he whirled his horse around and kicked it into a sprint.

The boy was forced to cling to the man, otherwise he was going to get a much closer look of the ground racing by beneath him. The horse covered the distance to the forest quickly and they raced through the trees at what seemed a dangerous speed. But the man controlled his horse effortlessly and finally brought the panting beast to a halt in a small clearing. The boy struggled and the man dropped him to the ground with a thud. He dismounted his horse and tied the reins to a nearby branch.

The boy sprang to his feet, eyeing the man suspiciously. But the man walked away from him and settled on a boulder, his long limbs crossed in front of him. ”Come here,” he commanded.

The boy squared his shoulders as if to resist but for some reason, the man's voice were compelling. He hesitated, then reluctantly moved within arms reach of the seated man.

The man grasped his shoulders, squeezing them. He examined the boy closely and the boy was uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny. The man's eye was again caught by the bloodstain on the boy's s.h.i.+rt, which he seemed fascinated by. The boy pulled away from him.

”You are well-formed. I am pleased.”

The man's voice was deep and had a mesmerizing quality to it. But the boy had no idea what the words meant and wondered if he was about to be sold into slavery.

The man abruptly stood as if in some great internal struggle. ”If only you weren't so young.”

The boy stood there, feeling a strange sense of failure at his youth. He had no idea why he might want to please this man, nor why his youth should be the source of displeasure.

The man paced about, then returned to his boulder. ”Come here,” he commanded once more.

The boy obeyed the command but this time the man turned him bodily about and pulled him to the rock in front of him.

The boy sat stiffly, his back pressed against the man's chest. The man brushed his blond hair away from the nape of his neck. ”I won't hurt you,” he promised, his voice suddenly intoxicating in the boy's ear.

But the man lied because the pain did come, and it was intense. But it did not come where he expected as something sliced into his neck. The boy could not struggle in the man's iron embrace and his arms were pinned to his side.

The boy's vision began to swim and he felt light-headed. He stopped struggling and leaned back against the man, no longer feeling the pain. The feeling now was not entirely unpleasant.

The man held him for awhile longer, then violently pushed him away. He himself staggered to his feet. ”I must stop. You are too young.”

The boy lay on the ground, feeling the ache in the side of his neck. He did not know what the man had done to him, nor what was causing the man's intense, internal struggle. He began to drift in and out of consciousness. He had the impression the man sat him up and placed something to his lips, water, perhaps.

His next memory was of being upside down on the horse, jostled from side-to-side as the horse trotted into his village. He had an inverted view of his hut just prior to being dumped unceremoniously on the ground. After that, he remembered nothing.

Susan would not leave the woman. She had been sitting in front of the window for well over 12 hours, now. During that 12 hours, the right side of the woman's face had almost completely healed. All outward signs of her ordeal had disappeared. She had even lost the preternatural paleness in evidence earlier; her skin now glowed with health.

The sheet continued its slow rise and fall. Respirations were approximately 10 per minute, slow for an adult, but reasonable. Heart rate hovered around 40 beats per minute; again, extremely low for an adult but possible for a well-conditioned athlete in deep sleep.

Susan studied the woman's face. Now that it was whole, the high cheekbones, the full mouth, the slender nose all lent themselves to the striking beauty she and Mason had speculated on earlier. The woman truly had the face of a sleeping angel.

Susan crossed her arms on the console in front of her and rested her head. Her eyes drifted closed.

The boy recovered from his ordeal, as he had done before. But this time he seemed to be left with a craving, a hunger for something that wasn't food.

He could not explain it but the mundane life of the village began to chafe at him. The restlessness he felt invaded his entire world, and he realized how small that world was.

He thought about the Man often, but his questions to his mother were met with mute silence. This silence only added to his frustration, a frustration that finally culminated in his decision to leave the village.

He did not know why, but he did not wish to tell his parents he was leaving. He said nothing but made his plans in secret. Then, one moonless night, he packed everything he owned in his bag, took the horse, and set out in the general direction of the brightest star in the night sky.

CHAPTER 11.

WEEKS Pa.s.sED, PERHAPS MONTHS. The boy traveled from village to village, exploring the smallest part of a world he had not known existed. On this cool afternoon he saw smoke from one such village from a distance. He kneed his horse and the beast started in that direction.

His entrance into the town caused little interest; everyone seemed to be drawn to a commotion down the street. He tied his horse to a post and went to see what everyone was looking at.

A woman, blood running from a cut on her temple and a bruise on her cheek, staggered in the center of the throng. A man, evidently her attacker, kicked her again and she went to her knees.

”You adulteress!” the man shouted, kicking her again.

”Liar!” The woman screamed. She struggled to her feet. ”Is there no one who'll stand witness for me?”

The woman was met with taunts and raucous laughter. Men and women threw clods of dirt at her in response. She struggled to protect herself from the missiles, but could not escape the man's meaty fist as he struck her in the side of the head. She moved out of his range, pleading with the crowd.

”Won't someone speak for me?”

When she was still met with nothing more than taunts, she pulled a bag of coin from her cloak. ”I have coin!”

The crowd grew silent. It was common to challenge the veracity of witnesses by challenging them to combat. Mercenaries made good money selling themselves as champions of truth. One could literally buy one's innocence, if only someone would fight for them.

No one seemed inclined to accept the woman's offer. The man s.n.a.t.c.hed the bag from her hand and threw it in the dust. ”No one wants your sinful money, you adulteress b.i.t.c.h.”

”How much money is it?” the boy asked, stepping from the crowd.

There was a murmur from the townsfolk at the cloaked stranger. It turned to laughter when the boy pulled his hood down.

The woman eyed the beautiful youth uncertainly. He was small, but he had been the only one to speak up. She picked up the bag of coin and handed it to him. He hefted the bag, then handed it back to her.

”I will speak for you.”

The crowd was now in high spirits. This was great drama, all the better because it would include violence and death, and probably humiliation.

The man spat contemptuously, barely missing the boy. ”Choose your weapon, boy. I have no patience for these games. I'm going to kill you, then I'm going to kill my unfaithful b.i.t.c.h of a wife, and then I'm going to take her money and buy much drink to celebrate with.”

This declaration brought loud cheers from the crowd. The man threw off his cloak, revealing a barrel chest and thickly muscled torso. The boy inwardly sighed. He carefully removed his own cloak, neatly folded it and set it in the dust. A man moved from the crowd and kicked the garment into disarray.