Part 26 (2/2)
She took a step closer to him and wiped blood running from the corner of his torn mouth. ”You're hurt. Let me help you get cleaned up.”
”Allow us to a.s.sist you,” the dark-haired Knight said. ”I'm Sir Erik. This is Sir Warrant. We're of the Ruby Order-”
”We know who you are,” Lock told them.
”Knights are respected healers,” Sparrow said. ”We'd be glad for your help.”
”I'll see to Miska's body,” Warrant said.
Erik nodded and motioned for Lock and Sparrow to follow him to one of the small, empty chambers running along both sides of the corridor.
Lock sat on the ground while the Knight knelt beside him, removing a leather bag from his shoulder and searching through his healing supplies. He glanced at Sparrow. ”I could use some water.”
”I'll get it.” She met Lock's eyes before leaving the chamber.
”Let me help you get this off,” Erik lifted the mail vest from Lock and tossed it aside. Lock winced in pain as he raised his arms to remove the sweat-soaked s.h.i.+rt beneath. The Knight examined his side. ”I knew these ribs had to be broken. You took a few hard blows out there.”
”Hardly noticed.” Lock attempted to chuckle at his joke, but the motion hurt.
The Knight felt Lock's ribs and removed a bandage from his bag. ”Miska was a very well-trained fighter. Warrant and I were surprised you beat him. Your skill is impressive.”
”Why were you looking for Miska?”
”It's a sad and guilt-ridden story for our Order. Several years ago, he came to us and asked to join our ranks. Becoming a Knight is not a simple task. Candidates are chosen carefully and training is grueling. We all must perfect both fighting and healing arts. We cannot accept payment for either, but the skills we learn are priceless. We have some of the best healers and masters of the fighting arts in the world among our men. Trainees are instructed in the best ways we can offer. When Miska arrived, we questioned him, tested him, and he was allowed to join as a Trainee. He fulfilled his duties, took his s.h.i.+fts, and learned the healing arts, but it was fighting that most interested him. No one considered this particularly unusual. Each Knight has his own special interests and skills. Some are completely dedicated to healing and learn only basic fighting while others do the opposite. Others lean more toward scholarly tasks or engineering.”
”Sounds like a hard life but a good one.”
”It is. Becoming a Knight was the best decision I ever made. Most of us feel that way, and few leave the Order. None have ever left on Miska's terms. He learned all he could from some of our best instructors in the fighting arts. While stationed for his training, we discovered he'd attacked a family and brutalized their daughter. He stole their money and a horse and left. We've been chasing him ever since. A criminal with skills learned in our Order is too dangerous to roam free. It sickens me to think of the crimes he's committed since he left us.”
I know about some, Lock thought. Perhaps if they'd caught Miska sooner, Sparrow's sister would still be alive. ”I knew I was right to kill him.”
Sir Erik's eyes met Lock's, and Lock was almost taken aback by the Knight's expression. The man's large gray eyes were wise, strong, and kind. They held no innocence yet none of the wickedness Lock knew tainted his own soul.
”Killing is not always the answer to everything, but in this case I agree. The Order has never before made such a mistake in choosing a Trainee, and we hope it never happens again. We found no indication of his violent past, and he never spoke of it.”
”Is that something you'd expect a would-be Knight to tell you?” Lock scoffed, slowly pulling his s.h.i.+rt on. With the bandage in place, his ribs felt a little better.
”Yes.”
”Then you'd be hard up for Trainees. I imagine you are, anyway. Only decent, perfect men could join you.”
Erik laughed. ”I'm afraid you have an unrealistic view of us. We don't look for perfection, just for men who strive to do their best for themselves and their fellows. Miska's past wouldn't have necessarily condemned him with us, but his lack of honesty did. Each man has faults, but he must admit them. It's not always easy. Admitting I'm wrong has always been a problem for me.”
”Few of us like to admit when we're wrong.” Lock thought about the expression on Sparrow's face when he'd thrust Miska at her feet. He'd been so certain she wanted revenge. He'd nearly gotten himself killed to give her what she wanted, but he'd obviously been far from the truth.
Sparrow stepped inside carrying a bucket of water and several pieces of cloth. Her gaze met Lock's. ”Are you all right?”
”Fine.”
Sparrow knelt beside Erik and handed him a cloth that he dipped in water. He unraveled the braid and bathed the back of Lock's neck where Miska had ripped out a chunk of hair. The Knight st.i.tched the flesh before he began sewing Lock's torn forearms. Lock watched carefully, asking questions about healing techniques and mentally comparing them with what he'd learned from Shea-Ann.
”You have an interest in healing?” Sir Erik asked.
”I do.”
Sparrow met Lock's eyes. ”I'd rather have you pursue that than some of the other things you've done lately.”
A smile played around Sir Erik's lips. ”Smart woman. Well, that's about all I can do for you.”
”Thank you for your help.” Lock extended his hand to Erik who grasped it firmly.
”If you ever decide to pursue that interest in healing, you might want to visit our Order. A man with your fighting skill would have a good chance at becoming a trainee.”
Lock laughed. ”I thought you didn't want any other indecent choices?”
”I don't think you would be a wrong choice.”
”How can you make that judgment?”
”Just a feeling.”
”Were you one of the people who helped choose Miska?” Lock smirked.
”No,” Erik's probing eyes held Lock's, ”I wasn't. Good luck to you both.”
”Thank you, Sir,” Sparrow replied before the Knight left.
Dipping a fresh cloth in the water, she began cleaning the blood and dirt from Lock's face, one of her hands touching his chin. He longed for her to touch him with affection instead of simply out of necessity.
”I wish you hadn't done this,” she said.
”I'm glad I did.”
Sparrow's jaw stiffened.
”Why are you constantly angry with me? I gave you what I thought you wanted.”
”Well you were wrong.”
”Obviously.” He caught her hand before she could continue cleaning his face. ”I want to get out of here and go home.”
”Don't you think you should rest for a while? I know you're hurt.”
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