“Enter the Narrows and find the key,” the man said to the little girl with one earring. “Free me and I’ll take you back to your mother and father.”
“You’ll help us?” Theel said in the present. “You promise to help us find Father?”
“Excuse me?” the man said, confused.
“If I bring you the key, you promise to take me to Father?” Theel said. “You promise?”
“Yes, I’ll promise anything,” the man said, still rubbing his fingers. “Just free me from this cage.”
“I promise I will help,” the man said. “I will take you to your father. Come closer, sweetling. Don’t cry.”
He reached out and brushed the little girl’s cheek, wiping the tears away.
“I promise to help you,” he said, smiling with his white teeth.
His touch was tender and reassuring, and the little girl felt the tiniest spark of trust.
“I promise.”
Then he drew his hand away from her cheek and held her earring between his fingers, white diamonds and garnets cut like oak leaves. She gasped and felt at her earlobe. There was nothing there. He’d taken it. And now she’d lost both earrings. More tears filled her eyes as he waved the diamonds and garnets at her.
“Enter the Narrows. Find the key,” he said coldly. “Or I keep your little bauble.”
Theel was jolted back to reality by a rush of emotions so intense his hands shook. He was filled with rage at what he’d just witnessed, and not just his own. His fingertips tingled as if he could still feel the blood of the Overlie boy there. And the blood seemed to be crying out in anguish.
Theel didn’t bother to look for the key. He walked around the cage to where the door was closed and locked, drew his father’s knife, and jammed it into the keyhole.
“Oh, thank you, my liege, thank you,” the man breathed.
Then Theel slammed his sword against the lock with a loud clang.
“Brother?” Yenia asked. “What are you doing?”
Theel didn’t answer, only slammed the lock again. Sparks flew.
“At last, God above has answered my prayers,” the man said, his eyes watering with tears of gratitude. “I will show you to the children. I won’t disappoint you. I will show you.”
Theel smashed the lock a third time and that was enough. The door fell open, and the man smiled at him for the last time.
“Thank you,” he said.
“I freed you,” Theel said. “Now show me.”
“Certainly, I will show you,” the man said. “Another day.”
He pulled Theel’s knife out of the keyhole and lunged at him with it. It was a clumsy, unpracticed stab, but it was enough to put Theel off balance. As he stumbled backward the man crashed into him, and they both fell to the ground. Those could have been Theel’s final moments, flat on his back, vulnerable as the man knelt over him with his father’s knife. But the prisoner had no taste for battle, only his newfound freedom. He dropped the knife, jumped to his feet, and ran.
“Stop!” Theel roared. He grabbed at the man’s ankle, but ended up with only his shoe. The man was tall and skinny, and fleet of foot. Despite limping on one shoe, he was already across the road before Theel gathered his bearings.
“He’s fast,” Yenia said.
“Not fast enough,” Theel said, jumping to his feet. He shrugged off his backpack and gave chase.
On the west side of the road, the man vaulted the waist-high stone wall of the burned-out guards’ barracks, then climbed onto the lowest level of scaffolding.
“Mercy! Mercy!” he screamed. “God help me!”
“I’ll kill you!” Theel shouted, right behind.
“Mercy!”
The man climbed to the second level, then the third. He was quite nimble for a man who’d spent many days starving and roasting in a crow cage, but he could not climb faster than Theel.
“Leave me be!” he shouted. “I’ve done nothing to you!”
He reached the top and Theel caught him from behind, tackling him onto the hard boards where they fought, muscle against muscle. The next few seconds saw a flurry of elbows and knuckles, kicking and grunting and bones thudding against wood. The man may have been a scrawny thing, but he was no weakling. Unfortunately, his attacker was a squire and son of a knight, trained for his entire life to stand among the elite warriors of the realm. Theel was on the verge of becoming a Knight of the King’s Cross. Therefore, this poor fool was on the verge of having his bones tied in knots.
Theel wrestled the man onto his stomach, forcing his arms back by his wrists. He then pressed a knee between his shoulder blades, tying his arms behind his back in a vise-like grip. He pushed the man’s face down hard, scraping his cheek across the dirty wooden platform.
“You stole from her,” Theel growled. “You stole from a tiny girl.”
“Help! Mercy!”
“Diamonds and garnets,” Theel said. “They were all she had and you took them.”
“Oh, God, help me!”
“Where is it?” Theel asked. “Where is the girl’s earring?”
“I don’t know,” the man moaned.
“Give it to me,” Theel said.
“I can’t,” the man said. “I lost it. It was stolen.”
“Was it lost or was it stolen?” Theel asked. “Tell me.”
“I don’t know,” the man said. “I woke up and it was gone, I swear!”
“What is your name, liar?” Theel asked.
“Pitch…ford,” the man grunted. “Wick—”
“Lies,” Theel spit. “Tell me true or I’ll stuff you back in your cage.”
“Pitch,” the man grunted. “I swear it. By the…by the soil under which…my dear mother—”
“Worthless words, Pitch the Liar,” Theel said. “Tell me where the children went. Did they go into the Narrows?”
“I don’t…” the man cried weakly. “I can’t…”
Theel leaned heavily into his hold and the man screamed in agony. He face was purple, his eyes bulging.
“Your shoulders are about to pop, Pitch the Liar,” Theel said. “You will never use your arms again.”
“Narrows!” the man screamed. “The Narrows!”
Theel relaxed his hold, but just slightly. “How long ago?” he asked.
“A day,” he moaned. “Just yesterday.”
“Yesterday.” Theel released the man’s arms and stood over him. “Yesterday you stole from a girl only six seasons old?” He kicked the man hard in the ribs, prompting another scream of pain. “You stole this girl’s last possession then sent her to her death, into the lair of the Crowlord? Is that what you did yesterday, Pitch the Liar?”
“I was…locked…in a…”
“I don’t care!” Theel screamed.
“Theel?” Yenia called from below.
“I don’t care, Pitch the Liar. I don’t care, Pitchford Wicker. Pitchford Alister!” Theel roared. “Whatever your true name is!”
“We might consider hurrying,” Yenia said, “if we mean to help those children.”
“I mean to help those children,” Theel said. “We’re not staying the night in Widow Hatch. We will enter the Narrows tonight. And you, you son of a bitch!” He bent down and grabbed the man by the throat with both hands. “You will lead the way!”
To Be Continued In
Warrior Baptism
Chapter 4
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Jonathan Techlin on Amazon
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About the Author: Jonathan Techlin lives in Kaukauna, Wisconsin with his wife and two daughters. He enjoys reading, traveling, and following the Green Bay Packers. He is currently working on future chapters in the Warrior Baptism series.
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This book is dedicated to Mom. You always believed. I love you. I still miss you.
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Thanks to my brother Mike for letting me write on his computer when I was young. My brother’s
office is where the dream began. I always told myself if I published a book, I’d give him a special dedication. This is it. Thanks Mike.
Thanks also to Dad, Rick, and Adam for continued encouragement and support.
Very special thanks to Jennifer, my favorite lady. And also to my Anna and Lucy for bringing their unique beauty into my life.
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Lastly, and most important, I want to give praise to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. God has blessed me with the gift of story to keep me sane. It is a privilege and an honor to share it with others. I know I did not create Theel and Yenia, and I can’t wait to find out where their next adventures will take them.
Love to all.
Warrior Baptism Chapter 3 Page 15