"What is it?" Zehava asked. "How is it made?"
"There are several legends - ranging from myths to the paranormal," Ursa replied, running his fingers through his long white beard, deep in thought. Had the sand not been useless after such a ring of power was created, he would have filled a leather pouch-full before their escape.
Meath cautiously shifted his body up and leaned against a log that lay beside him. He was finally feeling the numbing effects of the vulgar potion he had consumed - though the pain was still tremendous, it was bearable now. He had so many questions to ask Ursa - about the white powder and about why he had been unaware that one could have their Gift taken from them. However, he knew this was not the time for such questions - there would be time later. "What happened to you after we tried to escape?"
Zehava chuckled in a jaded tone that pealed like a tired bell. "Well, after we tried to escape - and failed bitterly, I might add - I woke up next to our cell where a very strange half-breed girl showed up to feed me." He paused for a moment, recalling the memory. "I got her talking, and found out she was just as much a prisoner as we were. I do not really know how, but I finally convinced her to free me - I would have gotten away then, but her father arrived just as she unlocked my cell." Zehava recalled the rest of the story aloud - up until his foolish, but definite last stand. He rubbed his right hand over his still tingling flesh where the devilish tip of the whip had tasted his body. Though the wounds had been healed, they felt like they were still there and throbbed painfully. Ursa had told him it would be like that for a handful of days. The flesh had mended, but the muscles and nerves still had a brand of damage.
"She did come to see me, but there was nothing she could do for me. Dawn was already fast approaching and I was far too weak - we would never have gotten out of there alive," Meath told him. "She made the only rational choice."
"There is no way I would ever leave you behind… if there was a chance you were still alive."
"I know." Meath assured him, not blaming Zehava for anything. "Though next time, given the same odds - save yourself."
"If the roles were reversed, would you?" he asked.
Meath smirked. "No, I would be just as foolish."
"Enough of this talk," Nicolette cried out, tears welling in her eyes. "You are safe now and that is all that matters. Soon, we all will be on our way again to Dragon's Cove, where we will be safe from all this."
"Speaking of all of us, where is Dahak?" Meath asked, wincing from the pain that rippled through his body as he tried to make himself more comfortable on the hard ground.
"Dahak and that savage girl - Shania - went out scouting our trail." Nicolette said, happy for the conversation change.
Both Meath's and Zehava's eyes widened in surprise. "She is here with us?".
Nicolette nodded. "She helped us escape once we had found you. We still had no idea where Zehava was. If it was not for her, we might never have gotten out of there alive."
"She did a very brave and desperate thing," Ursa added. "Thankfully, it worked in everyone's favor."
Everyone tensed when they heard the rustling from behind them. Ursa was quick to summon a molten sphere of Wizard's fire - not willing to take any chances.
"It is just us!" Dahak called, before pushing through the thick foliage and into their small campsite. "Hey! You guys are awake." Shania was soon to follow, apprehension molding her features, as all eyes fell on her.
"Are you guys all right?" Dahak asked, concerned for his two comrades.
"We will live to fight another day," Zehava replied with a weary grin.
"And we will have food for at least a few more of those days." Dahak pulled his pack off and pulled out several pieces of fresh fruit. "I would never have been able to climb up and get them myself - Shania here can climb like a monkey." She smiled awkwardly, fidgeting with her own pack before placing it beside Dahak's.
Shania stood there uncomfortably, not entirely sure what she should be doing. She looked up and noticed everyone was looking strangely at her - even the old Wizard seemed to be casting suspicious glances her way. Anxiety crept up into her, gripping her chest tightly and tantalizing her mind with apprehensive thoughts. She was the odd one out, again. As she had been her entire life. What had she been thinking? Now she was more of an outcast than ever. At least among the barbarians, she had a place. Where was her place here among these strangers? Her breathing quickened - she could feel the color drain from her face.
"It is all right, my child," the old Wizard gently said, obviously realizing her inner struggle. "You are safe here - we mean you no harm."
Shania licked her dry lips nervously and her eyes met the deep, grey eyes of the Wizard. They were soft and genuine - her tension eased a little and she found herself nodding to him.
"Thank you," Meath said to the savage girl, "for helping us escape," Meath continued, seeing her confusion.
"You…welcome…" she replied nervously, still unsure of the circumstances in which she found herself. Her eyes met Zehava's and again she found a comfort in them. "You okay?" she asked, quickly going to his side.
"I guess I am, alive anyways." In the daylight, he could see her perfectly. She was very beautiful, even more than he had first thought. She was dressed in a single strap, deer hide top that showed off her well-toned stomach and figure, and a short deer hide skirt with a high slit up one side, which made for easy movement and flexibility.
"I am glad," she replied, handing him a fresh water skin.
Zehava took a deep drink of the fresh water; he had already drank plenty of water since being awake but did not want to risk offending her. He could tell she wanted to say something as she nibbled on her lower lip timidly. "What is it?"
"What happen now?" she asked him, her eyes glistening ... fear and tiredness spilling out with tears.
Zehava was caught off guard by the question and had no idea how to answer it. He truly had not thought about it, it had seemed impossible that he would have gotten out of enemy hands.
"What do you mean?" Nicolette butted in.
"With me…" Shania asked hesitantly almost afraid of the answer. "What happen now?"
"We are in the middle of something of dire importance," Zehava replied.
"You lied to me," Shania shot back, tears welling up in her eyes and her lips quivered involuntary as she shot to her feet defensively.
"What? No, no I did not," Zehava stammered out. Impulsively, he tried to stand, but agony and exhaustion prevented him and he groaned out loud falling back.
Shania flinched as if she wanted to go to him and help, but stood her ground. "You said if me help you, you take me with you. You said things be better! You…you…used me!" Anger flashed in her eyes and her hands instinctively touched the hilts of her weapons.
"What matter of foolishness is going on?" Ursa's voice boomed from behind them, causing their attention to turn to the powerful Wizard. "Our lives are hanging in a balance of something so much more and here you are bickering about something foolish! We are being hunted by more enemies than we could handle if they were to come upon us and yet your voices echo loud and clear." The old Wizard took a deep breath calming himself, lest he make himself look like a hypocrite. "What seems to be so important as to risk our lives over?" His eyes were hard as he glanced at each one, stopping on the young barbarian girl. "What is it my child, that has angered you so?"
"I got nothing, no one, I am a stray. My people hunt me. Your people hunt my kind." She paused, forcing the tears back before continuing, "I thought helping would change something. I thought…"
"You thought in your act of benevolence that some life-changing reward would befall upon you?" the Wizard asked sternly.
"No… that not it at all…" she cried out, but was cut off.
"There is no reward here for you, my child," Ursa told her.
Shania could no longer hold back the tears and several escaped and cascaded down her dirty cheeks. She turned her back and began walking away, back into t
he jungle.
"Ursa, no!" Nicolette cried out, running to him.
"This is not what was meant to happen!" Zehava barked out, shame and guilt sweeping over him.
Ursa's look silenced them. "All we have to offer here is companionship and respect," Ursa called out to the fading barbarian girl.
Shania stopped in her tracks hearing the words, her heart nearly leaping from her chest with elation. She turned around and walked back into the small camp, her steps wobbly. "You mean it?" she asked the great Wizard.
"I would have let you keep walking if I did not," Ursa told her. "Now after we eat we must get moving. We still have a few days of hard travel before we get to Dragon's Cove and the journey is going to be slow and even more dangerous with these two hurt as badly as they are."
Shania walked over to the old Wizard as Dahak handed out several pieces of fruit. They exchanged a few words, and then Shania ran off into the jungle without glancing back.
Ursa crouched down beside Meath. "Rest your head back."
Meath complied, "What is the matter?"
Ursa pulled Meath's shirt up and saw the burn mark had not faded at all. He placed his hand over the wound and let his healing abilities flow from his hand into the wound. Reluctantly, the wound began healing, but a fresh scar remained and would not fade.
"What is the matter?" Meath asked again, seeing the concerned look on Ursa's face.
Ursa shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Nothing, but I can waste no more effort right now on this, until we are safe behind the walls of Dragon's Cove."
"Wait! What do you mean?" Meath protested as Ursa stood up to walk away. "What happened?" He looked down and examined the scar that remained. "Why will it not heal?"
"He will be all right, right?" Nicolette asked, looking from Meath to Ursa.
"He will be fine - of that I am positive," Ursa replied, his gaze still on Meath's chest. "As for why it will not heal, I do not know that answer, but once we are safe…" he trailed off, hearing footsteps from behind him.
Moments later Shania was back, several different lengths of poles dragging behind her. Ursa threw her a coil of hemp rope from the saddlebag and she went to work immediately, lashing the poles together constructing two litters for the injured party members to be dragged behind the horses.
With guidance from Shania, they found their way back to a barely used trail, heading west. Though travel through the woods would have been safer, with Meath and Zehava unable to walk, travel would be tremendously slow, and they needed to make some distance from their newest enemy.
Once on the road, Meath and Zehava did their best to rest, though every bump and jolt reminded them of their aches and pains. The litters were made very quickly by Shania and could be attached and detached quickly in case they needed to find cover in a hurry. Ursa rode the third horse, knowing it would add to the ruse that they were refugees.
Ursa knew if they ran across anyone, they could pass as town folk from the army encampment. They were a larger group now so he did not think they would have any trouble with the ruse. The only thing that vexed him was Shania - even though she was covered with a heavy cloak, if anyone paid close attention it would not be hard to figure out her heritage.
Shania ran up to Ursa and walked beside his horse. "Thank you," she told him, true gratitude showing in her eyes.
"You are more than welcome my child, but know that the road we travel will be long and full of life-threatening peril," Ursa told her. If it had fazed her, he could not see it.
"I used to danger," she replied. "I will not hinder you, you have my word. I be helpful. You will see."
Nicolette decided to walk beside Meath and not ride the horse, while Dahak rode the horse dragging Zehava and guided her horse that dragged Meath. She was so glad he was back with her - she had never felt so alone without him. She had not slept well the night before, and kept having nightmares of what had been done to him. She could not believe he was still alive after everything he had been through. He looked a lot better than he had when she found him hanging from the beam. She only wished she could have killed that Shaman for what he had done to Meath.
She could feel the anger flaring up in her at the thought of the Shaman - the rage in knowing that if she had another chance, she would put a dagger deep in his chest. The thought of killing him filled her with delight - the fact that she would actually be happy she had killed someone, frightened her.
A large rut in the road jolted Meath's litter hard, causing him to groan loudly and open his eyes and see Nicolette staring down at him.
"I could get used to waking up and seeing you," he blurted out before thinking. "I mean.… I…just meant…" he stammered out.
Nicolette blushed at his admission. "I understand, Meath." She went silent, her eyes wandering to the ground that passed by her feet.
"What is the matter?" Meath asked her, trying to block out the pain from the vibrations.
"I was so scared I would never see you again," she whispered.
"I thought I was going to die. All I could think about was you and how I would never see your smile again." She blushed again.
"What is that up ahead?" Dahak pointed straight ahead, "Soldiers?"
"No, it looks like refugees." Ursa strained to see. "Princess, pull up your hood - we do not need anyone recognizing you. You two, be ready." Ursa glanced back at Meath and Zehava to make sure they were paying attention. They both moved their hands to their swords, concealed under the blankets.
Ursa rode up to Shania. "Stay close to me - keep your hood up, head down, and go along with anything I say."
"What do you mean?" she asked, a puzzled look, pulling the hood of her cloak down further.
"These people may not take kindly to you if they recognized your heritage, for your kind have killed their families and destroyed their homes," Ursa replied, keeping his focus on the group ahead as they came closer into view.
Anger glazed her eyes momentarily, "They are not my people!"
"I know - I did not mean it like that. But it will make no difference to them. They will still hate you and wish you harm."
"Then I will kill them!" she stated, her hands moving to her hilts under her heavy brown cloak.
"You will do no such thing!" Ursa told her sternly. "That would only make them right. You will not make any move for those blades unless I tell you to. Do you understand?"
Shania looked back at the Wizard, wanting to argue, wanting to tell him no one controlled her, but could not. He had been kind to her - these people had accepted her, and there was truth in the old Wizard's words. "I understand," she nodded begrudgingly.
They neared the large, gaunt group that appeared to have survived the attack at the encampment or possibly a nearby town. Most had nothing but the clothes on their backs - others carried precious belongings they had grabbed as they fled, things they did not want to leave for the savages to take…or destroy. Some walked beside horses or mules, while their wives or children rode on the animals' backs. Others walked beside friends or loved ones, helping them struggle along the road, too tired or wounded to do it alone. A few lay on litters like the ones Meath and Zehava were on, being dragged by horses or people.
The battered, defeated group eyed the newcomers suspiciously as they rode closer, wondering if they were friend or foe. One could never be sure if highwaymen or bandits would come around and prey upon the already helpless. But soon, they realized the newcomers were just other refugees and most attention went back to the wounded or the sad conversations of those they lost and lives destroyed.
Ursa led his group through the large crowd as fast as he dared - not wanting to cause too much discomfort to Meath and Zehava nor did he want to look overly apprehensive.
Several of the refugees shifted closer to the newcomers, in hopes to strike up a conversation and hear their stories. A middle-aged woman wobbled up near Shania. She was missing several teeth and had a fresh gash across her forehead.
"Morning dear, where do you fo
lks come from?" the lady asked, tilting her head trying to get a look under Shania's hood.
Shania lowered her head even more and altered her direction away from the woman and closer to Ursa and the others.
"What is the matter?" the lady asked. Sour at being ignored, she reached out to grab at Shania's arm. "I just want to talk a moment, is that so wrong?"
Shania jerked her arm away from the lady's advance but the woman's grip was surprisingly solid. Instinctively, Shania's other hand shot out to pull her arm free, exposing her darker skin.
"What foul trickery is this?" the woman hissed loudly, stepping back.
Ursa rode closer to Shania and motioned her to follow him as he picked up the pace-he ignored the curses and groans from Meath and Zehava. He knew they had to get through this crowd before too much attention was drawn to them.
"Savage! Savage!" The old lady cried loudly, drawing more than one set of alarmed eyes her way at the proclamation.
"What are you talking about?" a dark haired man asked.
"That one, right there," she pointed, "the one in the heavy cloak is a savage! I am sure of it."
Ursa knew they had better pass these people quickly before someone got the courage to confront the situation, or recognized them for who they really were.
Dahak instinctively rode his horse up to flank the other side of Shania, cutting off the people's view. His heart started to beat faster as the rumor spread like wildfire through the refugees. He licked his lips nervously, feeling a hundred sets of eyes upon them. It took all the will that he had to keep his eyes straight ahead and his hand off the hilt of his short sword.
They had almost made it past the group when Ursa noticed a mother and father crying over their young boy, on a poorly constructed litter - the sad pile that he was lying in was bloodstained and he was missing one arm. Even from this distance, Ursa could tell the wound was beginning to fester badly. He knew the boy would not make it more than a few more days if he was not helped. Ursa cursed himself, stopping his horse. He knew they should just keep riding through, but an inner turmoil prevented him.
The False Prince (Fall Of A King Book 1) Page 20