A Warrior's Redemption

by Guy S. Stanton III

  Chapter Eight

  Escape into Peace

  Krista

  12 years earlier

  The streets of Zoarestran, a small town situated on the eastern side of the Plains of Zoar, were dark and deserted as the rain hammered down in the early morning hours. The only light came from the night lanterns that glowed dimly in the gloom of the night.

  A shadowy figure flitted from doorway to doorway seeking shelter from the rain that beat down mercilessly, a figure that had come from the direction of the slave holding pens.

  The night watchman, standing in the stoop of a bakery shop, came to the likely conclusion that the figure was either an escaped slave or a thief, as nobody else would be out on such a night.

  Somewhat reluctantly because of the heavy downpour, the watchman stepped out into the rain, “Hey you, stop there!” he yelled out.

  The slim figure froze in place at the voice of the watchman. The watchman, noticing a bundle in the arms of the figure, hastened his pace towards the shadowy outline in the rain. He was sure he’d caught a thief in the act. This meant good things for him. Apprehending thieves in the act was highly looked upon by his superiors, not to mention the gratitude of the shop owners who would fatten his pocket with coin for his good work on their behalf.

  Frozen with fear, Krista stood still as the watchman approached. She shivered as the icy rain drops fell on her head and trickled down under the worn rag of the tunic she wore. She clutched the bundle tighter, trying to shield it from the storm. She was so cold her teeth threatened to rattle out of her mouth.

  “You’re but a slip of a girl!” the watchman said, somewhat disgustedly, seeing his reward vanish before his eyes.

  “What are you doing out in this weather girl and what have you got there?” he asked, making a move to grab the bundle in her arms.

  His outstretching hands jarred Krista out of her fearful trance. She jumped back out of reach, the sudden move causing the bundle in her arms to cry out weakly.

  “Hey, what is this?” the watchman exclaimed in surprise.

  Noticing her shabby attire for the first time the watchman came to a swift conclusion, “You’re a slave, ain’t yuh?”

  At those words Krista turned and fled.

  “Hey, stop you slave!”

  His fingers narrowly missed grabbing hold of her shoulder as she slipped past him down a dark alleyway. She ran as fast as she could with the bundle in her arms, stumbling over cans and refuse left in the alleyway in her haste.

  The watchman stopped at the alleyway entrance. He wasn’t about to go in there after her, as the light from the street glinted off the red eyes of hundreds of disturbed rats. It had only been one little slave girl holding a baby. She wouldn’t have brought much at auction anyway.

  Krista didn’t stop running until she was several blocks away. Wheezing from the exertion of running through the darkened city, she looked behind her for any signs of pursuit, but there were none. She pulled back the edge of the blanket that was wrapped around the bundle in her arms. The baby’s blue eyes were closed and it had turned very pale.

  “Oh, no!” exclaimed Krista.

  She had seen that look of pale stillness before. Frantically she put her hand on the baby’s chest, but she could feel no movement there and the skin was cold. Big tears welled up in her eyes and then spilled down her cheeks as she gently rocked the still baby in her arms.

  Later, she got up as dawn’s first rays started to brighten up the gloomy morning and made her way towards the wharf which was nearby. Making her way down to the shore of the river, she lowered the baby into the murky waters. For a moment the baby’s face was visible and then it was gone.

  She had been making her way past the guards last night, intent on escaping the holding pens and the short hard life of being a slave, when out of the dark a hand had feebly grabbed her. Gasping in surprise, she had spun towards the unseen hand to see a thin woman with dark shadows under her eyes standing there in the gloom.

  “Please! Please take my baby with you!”

  “ I…. I….I can’t! I wouldn’t know how to care for it!” Krista stammered out, stepping away from the woman.

  The woman had followed her though and, despite her protests, pressed the bundle she held into Krista’s arms.

  “My baby is dying here, just like I am. Take my baby so that he can at least die free. Won’t you please do this for me?” the woman begged, falling to her knees before Krista, as she held onto Krista’s dress. Krista wanted to refuse as her chances of escaping were slim enough already, having a baby along only increased the likelihood of being caught. She had looked down at the bundle in her arms and a pair of blue eyes had met her own. She had tightened her hold on the bundle instinctively, met the desperate gaze of the baby’s mother and nodded.

  “Oh, thank you, dear sweet child! Thank you!” the grateful mother had said.

  Krista had stepped back into the shadows and crept along the wall leading to the last guard post holding the baby close to her, hoping that it wouldn’t cry out.

  She’d heard the woman briefly say something before she was out of sight, “May the Creator protect you.”

  Krista broke from her reflection of the night before and reached one grubby hand up to wipe the tears from her eyes.

  “I wonder what his mother would say to me now?” Krista said softly to herself in sorrow.

  Shaking her head she made her way up from the river’s edge to the wharf above. Lost in her sorrow she was not as careful as she should have been. The morning had progressed more quickly than she had thought. Workers and tradesmen were already busy about their business. She gasped, realizing her mistake. She was noticed almost at once by one of the field masters that she worked under in the firan cane fields.

  “You there! Stop slave! Get her! She escaped from the slave stockade!”

  Suddenly everyone became an enemy to her. She ran, trying to elude the outstretched hands of the people all around her.

  She slid under a table holding produce and bounded up on the other side of it. Up ahead of her was an alley, if she could only reach it she might be able to outrun her pursuers and find a hiding place until nightfall, when she could sneak out of the town under the cover of darkness. She sprang for the alleyway, but a hand grabbed her by the calf and flung her backwards. She landed hard in the middle of the street. Muddy water and refuse splashed up at her landing and soaked her in its filth.

  An angry mob had gathered around her and she was cut off from any chance at escape.

  She turned around on the ground, trying to avoid any of her would be assailants, as the field master who had first seen her spoke up loudly, “Let’s just kill her! She’s not worth much and we’ll make such an example out of her that no other slave will even think about escaping!”

  Krista curled up in a ball and screamed as they began to kick and hit her, yelling insults and curses at her as they did so.

  Krista landed hard against the side of the curb, waiting for the next hit, hoping that she would die soon. Life was just too painful and hopeless to keep fighting. The expected hits didn’t come.

  That was strange, Krista thought slowly, her reasoning foggy from the hits she had taken to the head. One eye was swelled shut, but she could still partially see out of her right eye. An old woman was yelling at the group who had been beating her.

  The old woman reached for something at her waist, which she then poured into the outstretched hand of the field master. He grunted something and moved off. The old woman motioned to another man, who then approached her, picked her up and slung her slim frame across his shoulder. The movement caused pains to shoot throughout her abused body and she eagerly welcomed the comforting warmth of unconsciousness, as it surrounded her with its dreamless cloak.

  There was warmth and pain, but Krista tried to focus on the warmth more than the pain. Warmness enveloped her. She couldn’t remember a time in recent memory when she had been so warm and c
ozy.

  She heard rustling near her and her eye popped open defensively. She was in a room dominated by a roaring fire in the hearth next to her. The floor was made of old worn boards and she lay on some sort of a pallet of blankets on top of the boards. The sound she had heard had come from the hunched figure of a woman working over a table that ran the length of the small room. There was a window across from her. It was open and through it Krista could see stars in the night sky. Feeling the need to escape, she began to move her legs into a position to spring towards the open window. The pain of moving her legs was excruciating and she must have made some noise that alerted the woman of her consciousness.

  The woman turned and she briefly recognized the old woman from the street before she crammed her one good eye shut. She heard more rustling and then steps that drew closer and closer to her. She tried not to cringe as the steps drew close to her, but she did.

  Thunk!

  Krista flinched hard, causing more pain to herself, but it wasn’t because she had been hit. Peering through her eyelashes, she saw a big bowl sitting on the floor in front of her nose with steam rising slowly into the air. The steamy smoke drifted over to her and her stomach began to rumble, telling her just how long it had been since she had eaten. Her hand started reaching out for the bowl, with a mind of its own, when caution got the best of her.

  Where had the old woman gone? The answer came from a rocking chair on the opposite side of the hearth.

  “Eat the porridge, dear child. Heaven knows you have need of it!” the old woman said.

  Against her better judgment, Krista pulled the bowl closer and started eating it with her fingers, ignoring the spoon that had come with it.

  “Easy now, easy now, there’s more where that came from dear! No need to eat so fast! You’ll do yourself more harm than good doing that!” the old woman said hastily.

  She rose from her chair, went to a table, picked up a large tankard and withdrew what looked like a ball of cloth stuffed full of leaves. She came close, got slowly down onto her knees, and offered the tankard to Krista. The bowl empty, Krista pushed it aside and warily took the outstretched tankard. It was heavy. She sniffed it suspiciously, but all she could smell was an herby sugary smell.

  “Drink it all. It will help ease the pain and the stiffness you’re feeling,” the old woman said.

  Krista sipped it a little. It was good! There was actually sugar in it! Slaves were never given such luxuries!

  She looked up at the old woman suspiciously, wondering what her angle was. Seeming to read her mind the woman’s wise old eyes met hers.

  “You are not a slave while you reside in my home, but rather my helper, if you would care to be. I bought you to save your life. You can relax. You are safe here. My name is Sansa Denas. What might your name be young miss?”

  After a long pause Krista responded somewhat hesitantly, “Krista.”

  “Is that all?” Sansa asked.

  Krista nodded her head slowly.

  The old woman reached over and pulled the heavy blanket up over Krista’s slim shoulder.

  “Rest now my dear, there’ll be more time to talk in the morning.”

  Krista watched as the kind old lady got painfully back up to her feet and moved away towards her rocking chair. Her eyelids got harder and harder to keep open as she watched the old woman rock by the fire. Never before had she had such good food to eat. The warmth and comfort of the cottage and pallet she lay on did the rest and she was soon asleep.

  The old woman studied Krista as she slept deeply on the pallet by the fire and wondered again if she had made a mistake in buying the girl. She couldn’t afford to make more enemies than she already had.

  Buying escaped slaves had a way of being looked down upon by the local townspeople and she depended on those same people for her business. Looking again at the girl she shook her head, but of course she had made the right choice in saving the girl’s life. She would just have to face the trouble when it came and come it would.

  Krista opened her eyes slowly. That was an improvement from the day before, as both eyes opened easily. The cottage was the same as it had been the night before except it was better illuminated now by the strong late morning light that streamed in from the open doorway. There were jars and pots littered and stacked precariously all over the long tables that dominated the one room cottage. From the ceiling hung bunches of dried wildflowers, branches with leaves, and bundles of what looked like herbs.

  The aroma of the cottage was almost overwhelming in its panoply of smells, but it was also somewhat invigorating. She pushed the warm blanket back and got slowly to her knees and then to her feet. Everything hurt but it was all moving and that was the good thing. She bit her lip against the pain and hobbled resolutely towards the open door of the cottage.

  The sounds of woodland and meadow songbirds greeted her as she leaned against the doorpost, resting for a moment. The sun was warm against her face.

  The cottage sat in a clearing in the forest and the old lady was busy working over an old black kettle that was boiling happily over a little fire. As Krista drew closer to the fire and her kindly new master, she could see that the old lady was busy in the process of making soap.

  “Quickly dear, could you fetch those chopped up Asthan blossoms on the platter over by that tree?” the old woman asked, somehow knowing she was there without ever looking up.

  Krista moved gingerly towards the platter and returned as quickly as she could with it, handing it to the old woman.

  “Thank you dear,” Sansa said, as she stirred the Asthan blossoms into the thickening mixture in the pot.

  *****

  There followed a period of time in Krista’s life unlike any she had ever before experienced. Her relationship with Sansa Denas was more that of a granddaughter to a doting grandmother than that of a slave and her master.

  Sansa taught the girl all she knew of the art of being a natural healer and herbalist.

  Krista grew and flourished under the benevolent and kindly Sansa and Sansa had the daughter she had never had, but always wanted.