“Always am,” Riken said.
“Sure.”
The faint smolder of candlelight quivered on Abby’s pallid face, revealing an understated crook of a smile on thin, pale pink lips. The smile, like ever, made him think she knew something he didn’t. That usually turned out to be the case. Why should this time be any different?
Maybe it was the way her clothing hung from her small body with such graceful effortlessness. Maybe it was how she smelled – musty after the day’s ride, but still retaining a subtle feminine sweetness. It could have been that wily smile, or the way her eyes were holding his. Whatever the cause, Riken felt like he was already losing a battle he hadn’t known he was supposed to be fighting. So, like a cornered animal, his survival instincts kicked in, and he did the only thing he knew to do. He opened his mouth.
“Seriously, Abby,” he said. “What do you want? We’ve all had a long day, you especially. I haven’t the energy, nor want, to fight right now. Maybe on the morrow, after I’ve had some food in my belly, you can yell at me for putting you in such a dire situation. I did what I could in the moment. It worked, too, if you’ve already forgotten. Maybe it wasn’t the perfect way to deal with it, but, Seven Layers, it is what it is. You’re safe, I’m safe. We all made it out alive. What do you want from me? You think me heartless? You think I liked seeing you that way, with that miserable waste of flesh holding a knife to your throat. You want me to apologi…”
Holding up her hand, Abby breathed, “Shut up.”
Caught up in the moment, like a snowball roaring reckless down a mountainside, Riken froze as if her almost silent utterance had been a slap to his face. He opened his mouth to resume his defense, but she hushed him again.
“By the Wind, Riken,” Abby said in a low whisper. She spoke as if drained of all faculties. The smile remained stagnant on her face, but lost a little of its deviousness when he saw the lone tear blink from her eye. “Stay that waggling tongue of yours for one bloody time in your life, and just hold me.”
This time, he thought she had slapped him. If not, the feeling was indistinguishable.
“What?” he asked.
“Hold me, damn you. Hold me with your eyes. Hold me with your arms. Hold my hands, my face, my thoughts. For the sake of the Father, just hold me.”
Then, as if her whole body were deteriorating, she fell into his arms. He caught her and, without contemplation, drew her close, so close he could feel her heart thumping against the smooth cloth of his undershirt. She seized onto him with urgency, and her body trembled within the embrace, sending shivers coursing down his suddenly simmering flesh.
“Abby, what…?” Riken began, but, somehow, through the tangle of interlocked limbs, her delicate fingers found his mouth and closed over it.
“Shh,” she moaned as she lowered them to the ground.
Before Riken could wrap his mind around this strange, wonderful occurrence, Abby had shed her boots and vest and burrowed her way into his bedroll. Trapped within the snug, woolen confines, feeling a splurge of emotions he hadn’t experienced for some time, Riken’s hands went to her face. His fingers rummaged through her curly brown strands, getting wonderfully lost. Their eyes locked only briefly, then she squeezed hers shut. The heat smoldered on her cheeks as he searched out her mouth. But upon finding it, he felt Abby’s head turn aside. Her entire body followed, until her back was to him, and their bodies had fused together like a pair of spoons.
Confused, but only momentarily deterred, Riken’s hands began exploring the contours of her hips. Then her small hand latched onto his wrist and beckoned his arm. He allowed her the authority, remembering that Abby had always liked being the one in charge. Still clinging to his wrist, she drew his arm around her and fixed it upon her waist. He slid his fingers beneath the hem of her undershirt, shuddered at the hot skin he found there, and tried to continue upward, but her grip held firm, like a hunter’s trap with a wounded rabbit in its metal teeth.
Abby’s head turned slightly. “Just hold me, Riken,” she said. It came out as a moan, her breath warming his cheek.
Every one of Riken’s senses was sparking and popping like a bursting log on a raging bonfire. He tried again to move his trapped hand, but Abby’s hold remained true and unrelenting. He felt his breath coming hard and fast. Flummoxed, he drew in a deep breath, but the saccharine, flowery fragrance of her hair only enticed him further. His body gave another convulsion, this time more from bewildered frustration.
“Abby,” he said, tasting her hair on his lips, but only her softly decelerating breathing answered. “Abby.”
She moaned long and low, then wriggled in his arms like a puppy snuggling into its mother – assured, safe, at peace.
Riken allowed himself a single mournful groan, then, resigned, he hugged her closer to him, until he wasn’t sure where he ended and she began. Tenderly, he kissed the back of her head and closed his eyes with a nostalgic sigh.
Once the frenetic clutter jolting about in his head subsided, he consented to the old memories vying for admittance. How many times had he and Abby fallen asleep just like this? Normally, he refused to reminisce so, but he couldn’t help thinking of that little cottage they’d lived in, the one with the engraving of the Orchard on the front door. She’d been practically euphoric when he’d shown it to her for the first time, him leading her through the streets with his hands over her eyes like a fool, so delighted with his little surprise. The look on her face back then, he’d thought at the time that he could live out the rest of his life on the wealth of that glorious smile alone.
He’d had many such ultimately futile notions back then, though. The worst being that he would ever have been able to be that kind of man. The kind that comes home for supper every night. The kind that can play house without succumbing to the lures that had governed his life for cycles. The kind that finds no quandary in sleeping every night under the same roof, in the same bed, with the same partner.
In spite of the mutual swelter soaking from Abby’s body to his, a nasty shiver ran along Riken’s flesh. His vindictive mind remembered another of Abby’s looks. It had hung on her face like a shroud the night he’d finally given in to his baser nature and left their little cottage. He hadn’t planned on looking back as he walked the neat cobblestone trail leading to the wrought-iron fence he’d had built for her, but something – guilt, most likely – had compelled him. The expression of unadulterated hurt, betrayal, and disgust he’d seen on the face that had once looked on him with only love had shaken him to his core even in the midst of his remarkably infantile selfishness.
What in the name of the Father is going on here? Riken thought as he held in his arms the woman he’d once pledged his life to.
More baffling, though? What was he supposed to do about it come the morning?
When morning finally did dawn, Riken found that he needn’t have worried himself sick over it at all. Abby, as always, already had the answer for both of them.
For all the time Riken had known her, he’d never known Abby to give even a fleeting thought as to how people perceived her. So when he woke alone the next morning, he found it odd that she’d already returned to her tent. Would she truly care what the rest of the crew would think of her for spending the night with him? A piece of him hoped that was the case. If not, then she’d stolen away in the dead of night for an altogether different reason, one his rather large and self-loving ego didn’t fancy pondering.
Rather than waste time on trivial things and risk losing his appetite before he’d even had chance to treat his nostrils to frying bacon, Riken simply threw his bedroll – still smelling faintly of her – aside and dressed.
Outside, the previous night’s wind had dwindled to a dull roar. It still whipped and teased at his long hair, but it had lost the gumption to lift him from his feet and send him hurling across the plains. High winds or no, the plains of Black Earth retained the same guise. In the dim light of dawn, Riken peered along the landscape as far as his eyes could r
each. In all directions, he saw only callous black plains cracked so that they might resemble a giant spider’s web from above. In their present location, there weren’t even any lonely silhouettes of mountain ranges in the distance. Wayward in this vast, desolate tundra, Riken and his crew might as well have been the last remaining inhabitants of Cryshal.
The concept, he found, was more than mildly unsettling.
“Just you and me,” Uther said. He was kneeling over the cookfire, flipping bacon atop a grizzled pan with a wooden fork. His battleaxe, freshly cleaned of the savages’ blood, lay not far from his foot. Forbidden from carrying it within Winter Moon, he seemed to want to spend as much time with it as he could before they returned to lawful lands. “Howling wind must be like a mother’s lullaby to this lot. They seem to be sleeping in.”
“You didn’t sleep well then?” Riken asked, not particularly caring for the aggressive manner in which his friend was stabbing the helpless slices of meat.
Without looking up, Uther said, “Too much moving around for my liking.”
“At least you’re speaking to me.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It wasn’t my idea.”
“I’m not your papa,” Uther said, goring another strip and slapping it back down on the sizzling pan. “Nor hers.”
“You know you don’t have to flip bacon,” Riken said, taking a seat on the other side of the fire. “It’ll cook both sides pretty well all by itself.”
“I know,” Uther said, and stabbed another piece.
“Just making sure.”
“Noted.”
“Nothing happened,” Riken said, after an uncomfortable silence.
“Don’t care to hear about it, whatever it is you’re talking about.”
“Just wanted that to be noted too. Any coffee?”
Uther nodded to a pot resting on the ground next to him. Riken waited for the man to pass it over. When Uther didn’t, Riken sighed and got up to fetch it himself. He took a small tin cup from a crate nearby and filled it. He had to drink the hot concoction through clenched teeth to keep the grounds out of his mouth. The brew was bitterer than he was accustomed to, but it served its purpose, and drinking it gave him something to do since it appeared Uther wasn’t in the mood for an early morning bout of small talk.
When the cold shoulder became too much to bear, Riken moved on to a subject of some import to both of them.
“Any signs yet?” he asked.
“Not that I’ve seen,” Uther said. “And I’ve been looking just like you asked.”
“Good.”
“Though I think you’re wrong on this one.”
“Bound to happen eventually.”
“Seriously.”
“Just keep your eyes open,” Riken said.
Finished with the bacon, Uther flipped the entire pan onto a plate. From another crate, he took four eggs in each big hand, cracked them in one graceful motion, and spilled their innards into the pan. He stirred the batch handily with the fork, then got up and moved closer to Riken. When he leaned in and spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
“I know these guys, Riken,” he said as if afraid he might be heard over the moaning wind. “You know these guys. We’ve worked with each of them countless times. I consider them friends.”
“As do I,” Riken said, cringing as he took a sip of the pungent coffee.
“Then how can you think one of them means to betray us for that little snake?”
“I didn’t say one.”
“Oh, come on,” Uther said, louder than he meant to. “Plus, Illter said the bribe was to stop anyone from coming after Sefen. We aren’t going after him.”
“We can’t know he didn’t head this way too. He may plan on warning them of our coming.”
“How? He had barely a day’s head start on us.”
“If Sefen has ties with the Black Earth tribe, which we can be reasonably sure of,” Riken said, “then I’m sure he knows how to reach their territory better and swifter than us.”
Uther crunched his face into a soundless snarl. “None among us would cater to that snake’s request.”
It wasn’t a thought Riken liked to entertain any more than his friend did, but Illter’s story of the visit paid him by Sefen couldn’t be ignored. Illter had said he’d turned down Sefen’s offered sack of rubies, and Riken was inclined to believe the man. While it was doubtful, though not wholly improbable, that Illter would’ve relayed that knowledge if he hadn’t refused Sefen, that hardly cleared the rest of the crew. Riken had no doubt in his mind that Sefen had made the same generous offer to more than a few of the people likely to be chosen for such a mission. And while he normally trusted his crew with his life, Sefen’s bribe would’ve been hard indeed to turn down.
“We have to be sure,” Riken said.
“I am sure,” Uther said adamantly.
“How?”
“Because I know them.”
“Then you know about Tawny’s financial problems?”
Uther looked suddenly hesitant. He looked at Riken as if unsure whether or not he was being duped.
“And Dexter’s gambling debts? Which, you’d be surprised to learn, far outweigh anything even I’ve ever accrued.”
Uther opened his mouth, seemly thought better of it, and closed it.
“Then there’s Illter,” Riken said. “Who’s presently out of any kind of job that I’ve heard of. And with sick parents, no less. From what I know, they require at least weekly visits to a meliorater. A sack of rubies buys a lot of care.”
“You’re just letting that little nit get under your skin,” Uther said. “He’s making you paranoid. Payton? You think he might be in on it? How many times has he worked for you?”
“I’m just saying we have to be careful. That’s all.”
“And Abby? Her too?”
“Of course not,” Riken said.
“What about me?” Uther asked. “Huh, Riken? What about me?”
“Uther.”
“Nay, really. I’ve got a mother and four sisters living with me. Not to mention Jatta and her own mother now. By the Fire, a sack of rubies sure buys a heap of food for a house as big as mine.”
“I don’t…”
Uther was still keeping his voice down, but his steam was getting up.
“And, you know, I haven’t been entering as many tournaments down at the Arena as I’d like. Not enough time these days, it seems. Sack of rubies sure would help supplement that loss of coin. I mean…”
“Will you stop?” Riken asked. “By the Father, when did you become such a woman? Did you start squatting to piss without my knowing it? I’m not saying anything about you, and you know it. I’m not even saying for certain that we have a problem. I just said it was a possibility that wouldn’t be prudent to ignore.”
At that, Uther shook his head angrily and rose to his feet with a grunt. He returned to the eggs, which had morphed into a thick lump in the pan. He took the fork to them, stirring profusely, not caring that a good portion of them ended up in the fire.
Watching his friend, Riken tried to come up with something to say to ease the man’s anxieties. A while later, he had nothing, but a rustling in the one of the tents spared him.
Before long, the entire crew was seated around the cookfire. They ate heartily, knowing their mouths would taste no more until the sun set again. The air between them was light and affable. They joked and swapped old stories. To the delight of all, Dexter resumed his antics from the night before, and this time, even Abby joined in.
Perhaps she had to, since she didn’t have the easy excuse of sleep to retire to this time, but watching her, Riken sensed something changed in her demeanor. It was subtle, something he had to read carefully, since she’d always had a sterling rapport with the rest of the crew, but she seemed happier this morning. She even managed to hold his gaze when their eyes met. Before last night, he’d been lucky to get a quick glower from her, if even she’d ever deemed to look up
on him.
Of the lively group, only Uther remained aloof. He tried to hide it behind counterfeit laughs and a few ill-delivered jests, but he wasn’t fooling Riken. Riken felt for his friend, truly. It would’ve been better for all involved if his worries could be assuaged. But Riken had stayed alive and relatively unscathed for a long time in a hazardous occupation. Furthermore to his many other notable talents and Father-given gifts, his continued existence he attributed to his highly-evolved mind, and, for now, it was telling him to tread lightly, to be prepared for anything.
Rarely had heeding his suspicions led him asunder. On what was inarguably the most perilous job of his long and illustrious career, he had no intention of deviating.
“I have some business to attend to before we depart,” Abby announced.
“I hate to think of business this early in the morning,” Dexter said. “Like to give my affairs the day to stew and incur some interest.”
“Right. Well, as charming as that is…and it is, don’t get me wrong,” Abby said over her shoulder as she headed around the tents, “my father always told me never to put off till later what you can get done right now.”
“Like to put it behind you, huh?” Dexter called, though Abby had already disappeared.
Riken tossed the last swallow in his coffee tin into the fire and stood. On the tips of his toes, he peered over the tents and saw Abby walking a good ways beyond them. With the lone female gone, all the men stood up and spread around the cookfire to drop trou and extinguish the flames.
“Give her a moment or two of privacy,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over Dexter’s long, loud moaning, “then break camp.”
“You’re the boss,” Dexter said, shaking off with flare.
“How far, you think?” Tawny asked.
“No idea,” Riken said, and looked to Payton.
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