Part 25 (1/2)

Chapter39.

Seized -nveloped in a kind of numbness of mind, but beneath the surface seething with tortured rage, Deacon rode for almost an hour without stop. He was exhausted from physical and emotional exertions, and so of the first wayside inn he came across he decided to take refuge from the night. Except for the occasional raised voice, all was quiet. The dark corners held discreet murmurs and those wis.h.i.+ng no company beyond their own. A cold breeze came in each time the door opened, which fortunately was not often.

Deacon downed the last remnants of his drink, not lifting his down-bent face. His grim presence accorded with others in the room. Inwardly he struggled as if exerting himself to abide by a dark will that seemed to dominate almost in a separate consciousness. Despite his deeply fixed hate, he could not easily accept the idea of having to leave without the woman whose enduring love was the only source of meaning in a world of pain and fear.

He winced at the memory of her last look of mute pleading. The door opened, and heavy, intrusive boots stepped in and paused at the threshold, as if the man observed his surroundings with focused intent. Deacon, becoming aware of the presence, half-turned, and at the sight of Fraomar, slowly rose to his feet. With a jerk of the head Fraomar gestured for Deacon to come to the door, which he held open. ”I have something you may like to see.”

His blood burning, Deacon went to the door, paling with fear as that of a man who suddenly wakes to find himself standing on the edge of a precipice. Outside stood a second man, and imprisoned in his arms Magenta slumped forward, her long black hair draping down over her bent face. A muscle flexed in Deacon's jaw. How cowardly it was to use the woman to get at the man.

”Compose yourself and come outside,” said Fraomar quietly. For a moment Deacon stood motionless, pain and rage at his heart. Then, slowly, as if against his will, he stepped out into the night and toward the man and his captive. At Deacon's approach, she made an effort to lift her face to look at him. A deep frown gathered on his brow, and his eyes warmed in sympathetic torment, as a new wave of anger coursed through him at the sight of her wounded face. As if the effort was too much, her head again lolled forward. Fraomar took a threatening place at her side, and touching her hair, said to Deacon, ”You will accompany us without opposition, or your reluctance will have an unpleasant cost.”

His eyes fixed on Magenta, Deacon seemed deaf to the words. He could have wept over her bruised and cut face that was so pale as to be ghostly. The thought of her bandied about between the two men filled him with a violent rage that made him tremble. He feared and dared not anger them. He slowly lifted his eyes to Fraomar, his unsureness plain in his features. ”You can go no further,” he said, brokenly. ”She is a priestess and daughter to-”

”Do you doubt me-suppose that I make false threats?” asked Fraomar, presenting a formed dagger at her throat, which was held exposed by the unkind hand tangled in her hair. He purposefully cut a line deep enough to draw blood.

There was but a faint whimper from the slender uplifted throat. Deacon raised both hands open in a gesture of submission. ”Please-” is all he said. A note of desperation broke his voice.

Fraomar put away the dagger and next took his captive round the body, telling his companion to bind the younger man's hands. The man seized Deacon and clamping on the wrist irons, said, ”You killed several of my most beloved pets.”

”I shall reunite you if that is your wish.” Deacon saw him draw back his fist, and then blackness.

Deacon could scarcely recall the blow that had rendered him consciousless. Hanging upside down, suspended under a large tree, he felt blood run down his face, half-blinding him. How long he had hung here senseless he could hardly guess. All the pressure had gone to his head, and he was more than a little disorientated. When he opened his eyes he saw that his cousins were hanging on either side of him, and his heart and hopes sank.

Seized with a violent fear, he cast a wild look about himself. Over by the campfire among several other men he saw, through a blood-red haze, Fraomar with Magenta's head across his knee, gently and insistently wiping blood from her face with the hem of her dress, while she, pa.s.sive and broken, lay listless.

Involuntarily, Deacon uttered a strangled cry and thrashed about with shouts of rageful warning. When at last he was somewhat calmed, a man named Theron came forward. He spoke with a directness and authority which suggested he was the man in charge of the party. There were around fifty men along with the rangers, of which there were nine, each apt at his own particular skill.

Cedrik and Derek had not yet regained consciousness but beyond a few abrasions, had received no serious injuries. Cedrik had taken the greater beating; his forehead was bruised and had bled. Theron came to stand near Deacon, whose self-control was hanging by a thread. The veins stood out on his strained neck.

”You know why you are here, do you not?” Theron asked his vengeful prisoner. Although there was no response beyond heated silence, he continued as if he had received an affirmative answer, and among other threats against Deacon, told him those he loved would die if full cooperation and compliance was not abided by. When he was satisfied the message rang clear, Theron ordered them to be cut down. ”Don't let him fall on his head.” He pointed to Deacon and stood back and watched as they did this. ”We shall talk more in the morning,” said Theron, before his men took the captives and chained them to a picketed post.

All the while Deacon's baleful eyes were fixed on Magenta. She was still with Fraomar, who was forcing upon her some liquid. As he watched Deacon was motionless. It was the stillness of white-hot wrath. He had a painful sense of her being tortured by Fraomar's attentiveness. The way he held her was very familiar and possessive. And Deacon was powerless, bound and defenceless in the hands of ill-intentioned men.

When Magenta had somewhat recovered she sat upright, pa.s.sive in her captor's arms. She offered little resistance to his overbearing attentions. To do so would be futile and only result in further humiliation. She endured the crude, frightful jokes about pa.s.sing her round and the hostile, superst.i.tious looks of the other men. Despite Fraomar's cruel conduct she remained mute, without moving, her eyes unseeing. She was as if violated into senselessness, but though outwardly she was broken and listless, inwardly she was beyond him, closed off. Nothing he did could touch her.

When he left her alone a moment, turning his attention to a man next to him, she blinked and slowly dared to look over at Deacon, who was already looking at her. He gave her a sorrowful glance profound in its meaning, and it needed to be, for it had to do the work of many words. In a deep, subtle way Magenta was sustained by his reflective wretchedness, a sense of suffering together, his eyes never leaving hers.

Fraomar at once felt the hot sting of jealousy when he saw that which they shared unspoken. He would not let her go to him but kept hold of her.

Presently Theron came to Magenta and as a plain command told her to come with him. She very hesitantly, very reluctantly arose. She looked over to where Deacon sat.

Fraomar rose to his feet also. He seemed reluctant to part with her. ”You keep the priestess beside you tonight?”

”She will sleep in one of these tents, under guard.”

Magenta looked back at Deacon and the brothers with deep longing. ”I will remain out in the night with them,” she said.

”No,” was Theron's blunt reply, holding out his hand for her to come.

”It would be my preference.”

”Nevertheless ...” He motioned for her to come with him. When she did not, he reached out an ungentle hand and took her by the arm. He began to lead her away, but with imploring hesitance she resisted, looking back over her shoulder all the while. The thing she dreaded most was separation from him, to be kept from him. Deacon watched and could see that in the next few moments she would be in tears. It tore at his heart. When she was gone from view he let his head hang in despair. It was a relief when his cousins came to. They remained subdued and defeated, but their presence and comrades.h.i.+p somehow encouraged him. A single guard surveyed them.

Fraomar did not go to his own bed but stood at a distance from Deacon and watched with jealous eyes, half-believing it was because of him that she was not already and long since his own. Theron, pa.s.sing, said, ”There is not much of the night left. Get yourself some sleep. Tomorrow I send some men into the village to retrieve supplies.”

He went away into his tent and left Fraomar in his hatred, nursing his spite. Jealousy excited within him the fiercest savagery of his nature. He could feel it in his blood, taste it in his mouth, and now he had the desire to regard Deacon more closely. He strode over to him, and without a word, struck Deacon a blow with his fist, so forceful he made himself reel as if drunk.

Deacon managed to remain on his feet, but his mouth was filled with blood. Discontented, Fraomar followed directly with another, which felled his hated friend to the ground. Cedrik and Derek both leapt to their feet, anger welling up inside, but could do nothing. Before Deacon had a chance to recover, he was kicked onto his back and felt a heavy knee planted on his chest.

”That woman is bound to me and I to her. What right have you then to come between us?” said Fraomar, his voice trembling.

In utter desperation the brothers strained against their restraints with rageful shouts at their hara.s.ser, who with blind recklessness vented his pent-up aggression. All the animosity and all the insane jealousy that had been burning in him was now focused in rage on the single object of his hatred. Deacon raised his arms over his face in a burrowing motion, in a feeble attempt to protect himself. Fraomar struck him again and again. He was savage and unsparing in each blow and inflicted on him a punishment that would kill a weaker man.

”d.a.m.ned b.a.s.t.a.r.d!” cried Cedrik, making violent efforts to disengage himself. The guard did nothing to intervene but stood watching. Roused by the commotion, several men came out and beyond revelling with ill-humour in the shameful brutality, did nothing.

”None of that!” broke in Theron's voice of authority. ”Back away! Back away, I say!” Fraomar begrudgingly ceased his battery, choking still with rage. Theron pushed him apart, shouting, ”He will be of little use to us dead!” With reluctance Fraomar stepped back from his victim. He blinked the sweat from his eyes. Theron shouted, ”Move off-all of you!”

Muttering their amus.e.m.e.nt, the men dispersed and went away. Only when he was certain Fraomar had truly taken himself off, did Theron return to his own confines. Cedrik and Derek sat mute, their eyes fixed on Deacon who lay curled in agony. His heart was wounded more than his body. He could not keep Fraomar from hurting her, and it was killing him. All the night he feared that Fraomar might seek to lie down beside her. In torment and wretchedness, Deacon pressed his face into the cold dirt. He almost choked at the thought of the brute approaching her, his hands over her body.

Morning came. Deacon lay on the very same spot, his arm folded across his eyes. The first sight that met his blurred vision was Theron standing over him. With the tip of his boot, Theron gave the limp form a nudge in the side, as if to see if it was still alive. ”How's your head?” he asked and stooping down, dragged Deacon to a sitting position. ”Have yourself some food and we will talk more.” Derek, his nerves raw, was ready to p.r.o.nounce some words against the man but was cautioned by his brother to remain quiet.

Theron left them and returned to the campfire to have breakfast. When he returned he brought a stool for himself to sit upon. He handed to Deacon a piece of parchment with strange runes and diagrams. ”I need you to look at this,” he said, seating himself opposite.

Deacon was vague and unresponsive. Distractedly he looked at the sheet as if he could not focus, his eyes constantly looking up to find Magenta. He had not yet seen her, nor had he seen her antagonist. ”To bring down the obstruction,” said Theron, ”you must solve the combination just as of any lock. When your mind is concentrated, you can feel the energy and solve the puzzle.”

Theron's words were lost on Deacon. He was subdued and distracted. At the sight of Magenta he straightened as if coming awake and watched her keenly. She was with Fraomar. He sat her down and took a place at her side. Her look at Deacon, though brief, was rea.s.suring, and he felt an ache of relief that seemed to extend beyond his heart and made his head light as if faint.

Fraomar put his arms about the slender figure of his captive, making her sit pressed against his body. He took a mouthful of food himself, then put some to her mouth, aggressive in offering his unrequested and unwanted a.s.sistance. Deacon watched, and the sight of it pounded his head till scarcely could he see straight.

All the while Theron continued speaking: ”If you can't sustain the energy until completion, the lock releases and reverts to its former state, and you'll have to start again, so it's very important that you not break until the task is completed. Do I have your attention?” Deacon was looking past him over to Magenta, a distracted and raging frown on his brow.

”You said no harm would come to her.” He spoke quickly with accusation and question.

Theron turned on his seat and looked over his shoulder to observe what the issue was. He then turned back to Deacon. ”She's fine. Now worry about your own well-being. If you don't pay attention and focus, you'll find yourself to be the one hurt.” He thrust the sheet of parchment at him again. ”If you break for even an instant, you will have to start over again.”

Fraomar took it upon himself to watch the more delicate captive. All throughout the day he tended to her with officious attentiveness. He was manipulative in the way he handled her, as if a.s.serting his right as the more dominant. Yet inwardly she resisted him in a way that maddened him. He had her within his grasp, yet still she seemed so untouchable. ”Will you come walk with me awhile?” he asked. ”It is long since we have been together alone. There are things I must say to you.”

”There is nothing for you to say that I wish to hear.”

This was a cruel rejection for Fraomar, and in the manner of men after his nature, he grasped her arm with a bruising hold. ”Nevertheless you shall hear them,” he said, but she resisted his coercive grip with unexpected strength. ”I don't wish to speak with you before such an audience,” he said with a ring of insistence, pressing her arm. ”Do not force me to it.”

In desperate reluctance her eyes went to Deacon, who was speaking still with Theron.

”We shall stay in view of him,” said Fraomar, resentfully, but as the only way he could conceive to persuade her without a struggle, and though it was with great reluctance, she went with him. They stood near a thicket of trees a short distance from camp. He kept a firm hold of her upper arm, so that it felt bruised and sore. With his free hand he pushed back her hair to observe her face, which no longer showed any trace of his brutalities beyond a small cut at the corner of her mouth. Her complexion was again pale as winter. Silently she awaited his words.

He rubbed his brow as if suffering confusion of mind. ”I feel misunderstanding has played a part in our ...” He stopped as if searching a word, then said, ”Misfortune.” The hard lines about his mouth and brow retreated, and in their place came an expression of meekness. ”You must give me your forgiveness. The discomfort I imposed on you was necessary-” He seemed uncertain for a moment, her expression unyielding. He touched her with timorous hands as though suddenly fearful of her now in her restored state.