The Captive (Secrets, Choices and Redemption)

by Shannon Peel

  Brathoid is big. Real big. He is covered in blood. The bodies of my men hacked to pieces piling around him. He is an ugly bastard, his face is covered in scars and his nose flattened against his face. He looks tough, is tough, I’ll gave him that.

  He holds a large heavy broad sword and wields it as if it is a willow branch. This savage is strong. His face is set in furious determination to protect, to fight, to win. He is focused. Nothing distracts him, not even his woman’s screams coming up from behind him. He moves gracefully, which is surprising for such a large brute of a man. He steps aside avoiding the slash from an attacker’s sword. Then he changes his direction, so quickly that he catches his attacker off guard. His sword cuts deep and in one fluid movement he pulls the sword from the body, which falls lifeless at his feet.

  A raider is coming at him from behind. Brathoid hears him, turns his body slightly to thrust his sword back into the oncoming attacker and is back in fighting stance before I can blink an eye. He’s fast. His hair, with beads and feathers woven in it, is whipping around his head, his bare chest gleams with sweat mixed with blood.

  Now I understood why Brathoid is so feared, he doesn’t fight, he dances with a deadly sword that is a part of him. I am mesmerized by this hulk of a man who moves with a grace I’ve never seen before. This is a great man, a man to be admired and to learn from.

  I watch him dance, fight, kill, and mutilate men, until I find his weak spot. I scream the loudest and most chilling war cry I can, as I pull my mount up on his back legs, my sword held high above my head.

  I charge at Brathoid, my horse’s hooves beating the dry earth in time with my own heartbeat. Smoke curls up around me, parting for me clearing my path straight to my target. My eyes lock with Brathoid’s, focusing on his weakened left side where blood flows from a wound. His feet dance on the ground to move his body into a sturdy crouch stance waiting for his new dance partner to die by his sword. All sound except my own heartbeat is gone from my ears. The sounds of battle are a distant memory. I notice nothing around me, only my target. My whole body is tense ready to pounce off my horse and into a dance of death.

  Suddenly, Brathoid's head flops to one side, yet I have not swung my sword, and he falls down dead. As the body falls, I see Sero, my captain of the guard standing there, his sword dripping with Brathoid’s blood. I bring my horse to a stop in front of the woman and child. My body moves automatically without thought, shocked as it is from the anti-climax of my charge. I feel robbed, robbed of my chance to dance with the greatest swordsman I have ever seen, and I’ve seen hundreds.

  I lean down, grab the woman and push her into Sero's arms.

  "Take her to the wagon, do your job and not mine!"

  My voice is cold. My body runs hot with anger. Sero, the cowardly little sneak, is not one to face a man in honourable combat. He is not a fighter, he is a bully, and that is why I hired him as a guard, not a fighter. To kill a man from behind is a cowardly, dishonourable way to fight.

  A warrior like Brathoid does not deserve to die like that. Why do I keep Sero around? I cut Brathoid's head from his body, skewer it with my sword and then ride around the village holding it high above my head. Once the villagers see that their mighty chief has fallen, all that is left is to round up the spoils.

  ****

  "Sero I need to talk to you.”

  "Yes sir!"

  Sero's smile is full of pride and his fellow guards are giving him high fives when I arrive.

  "Just what the hell did you think you were doing in the village?"

  My voice is no longer cold it runs hot with fury. Sero's smile begins to fade. I use my height advantage and pull myself up to my full 6 foot 7 inches, towering over Sero’s 5 foot 8 frame.

  "Hey, I killed him didn't I?"

  "You murdered him you fucking coward. Sneaking up behind a man and cutting his head off is not what I'd call an honourable kill."

  "Screw your honour, you wanted him dead and he's dead. Pay up boss."

  "I'll give you your bonus, but if I hear anything about you being the big warrior who killed Brathoid, you will be fighting me in one on one combat, got it?"

  A warrior of Brathoid's repute does not deserve to be dishonoured by a murderous coward's boastings. He was murdered. Still, dead is dead, it didn’t matter how and I have to pay up. Bile rises from my stomach burning my throat.

  "Got it"

  Sero's voice is filled with contempt, anger, and something a little dangerous. His mouth curves into an evil sneer and his small dark eyes shoot daggers at me. After we sell the product at market, I’m firing his ass.

  "Your job is to guard the product, I pay you very well to do it. Had we lost one item while you were pretending to be a warrior, I would have taken your head off. Got it." I punch him in the face sending him flying to the ground. "Disobey me again and I'll kill you, got it.”

  "Yes Sir."

  Logan

  I’ve moved my belongings into my old room in the Lord Magistrate’s townhouse. It is located to the left of the Castle and is attached to a row of houses that surround a park. Each noble family has a townhouse here, the closer to the castle their townhouse is, the more power they have. My rooms are on the third floor, Aleesa’s are on the fourth and the Lord Magistrates are on the Second.

  “Logan. You’ve come home.”

  “Aleesa.” The sound of my voice is bored.

  She walks right in like she owns the place, and I guess she does. We will need to establish some boundaries when it comes to my apartments. Things are going to be different this time. She wants me here, not the other way around. Do my job. Protect her. It won’t be like before. We are not best friends anymore. “Better now that you have stopped being so silly and are my sell sword again.” “You’re getting married, congratulations.”

  “Humph. I’m not happy about it. He’s old.”

  “He’s wealthy.”

  “In land only. The old coot won’t give me a decent allowance.”

  “Really?”

  “Daddy said he’ll keep giving me an allowance. I can’t be seen in rags at court.”

  “You’d look good, even in rags Aleesa.”

  “You sweet talker.”

  “How did your father secure such a marriage for you?”

  “You make it sound like a good thing.”

  “Well, all the noble houses have tried to marry a daughter or widow to the man. He’s refused them all. Why you?”

  “Now you make it sound like I’m what, not worthy of the old coot?”

  “No. No. Of course you are. You are the prettiest woman at court. I’m curious is all.” “I thought you weren’t ever curious Logan.”

  “Well, sometimes I am.”

  “Truth. Horses. It has everything to do with horses and nothing to do with me.”

  “Seriously?”

  “He was the old King’s man. Best buds and all that. Thing is, he doesn’t know the new

  King very well. That’s what happens when you don’t come to court. It’s not my fault.” “True.”

  The man hadn’t been to court since when? Since Jackson’s trial? That was ten years ago. Wow. Ten years. How much has changed since then, I look around my room, and stayed the same. My mind starts to wonder as Aleesa prattles on, what would life have been like if things had gone the other way, the way they were supposed to? What if the plans our parents had made for the three of us were not destroyed? If Jackson were still here and the three of us were still the closest of friends? So, much has changed.

  “Are you listening to me Logan?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking about the three of us.”

  “If you say his name Logan Reachie I will have you whipped.”

  I look down at her with a cocked eyebrow and a smirk on my face. I’d like to see her try to get the slave master to whip me.

  “I won’t. Just wondering is all.” I say.

  “No use wondering. Can’t change it. He’s is gone and now I’m supposed to marry some old
man and sell some horses.”

  “Oh yeah, the horses. What do they have to do with you?”

  “That’s the deal. He marries me. Father finally gets rid of me. I get a title. The Count gets me to be his court liaison to ensure the new King buys his horses.”

  “I’m sorry Aleesa.”

  “What does it matter? No matter what husband I ended up with, he’d want the King’s for something.”

  “It’s not right Aleesa.”

  “How much did it cost daddy to get you to come back to me?”

  “Triple.”

  “He would have paid you ten times that you know.”

  “You realize my family is going to disown me when they find out.”

  “So. What do I care about your family? They should keep their noses on their faces.”

  “Aleesa.”

  “What?”

  “It’s not going to be forever. Got it?”

  “Why not?”

  “Aleesa. You know why.” And I promised I wouldn’t say his name. “I’ll get you to your new husband and back. Then we’ll see.”

  “Oh Logan. Always the buzz kill. I’ve got a lot to do. So hurry up. I want to go shopping.” I groan. I hate shopping and she knows it.

  Drela

  The procession of battered and beaten people creeps along a narrow wagon trail through fields towards an uncertain future. We’ve walked for days without rest and very little food. I hold onto my children as we slowly make our way on sore feet. Step. Step. One foot in front of the other, keep going, another step. My leg muscles are on fire screaming for oxygen, nutrients, fuel of some sort. My children are worse off than I am.

  "Josia, can ya keep goin?"

  "Yes ma."

  His small head is flopping and his eyelids are heavy. I can see how tired he is. My brave little boy needs to sleep and I am helpless to do anything. Anger boils up and washes through me. I am a Chiefta. I am the great Brathoid's wife and he would be disgusted with me if I allowed his children to suffer.

  "No, ya canna, we stop."

  I pull him to the side of the wagon-rutted road to lie down and place his baby sister, Dre, beside him in the tall grass to sleep and to rest. I sit watching them and the others passing by, daring them to say something. They just keep walking with their heads down.

  A horse mounted raider rides up, glaring at my sleeping children with contempt.

  "Get em up and get a movin." he shouts.

  The villagers within sight seem to pick up the pace and look even further down at the ground. The cowards! We should fight back.

  I stand up straight and looked the raider in the eye, "NO!"

  He slowly takes his foot out of his stirrup to dismount and help me. His foot kicks out and hits me in the side of the head, sending me flying to the ground with such force I bounce. Then he dismounts, reaches down to grab Josia and Dre. I dig deep and used all my strength to raise myself up and jump onto his back, hitting him, screaming for him to let my children go.

  “Do na touch ma kids.”

  I bite his ear and taste blood. I tear and spit out a piece of it. My body hits the ground rattling my teeth and knocking the breath from me. While the raider is busy checking the bite on his ear, I crawl as fast as I can to get between him and my kids. Like an animal, I am on all fours ready to pounce if he takes a step closer. Breathing through clenched teeth, blood tinted spit spraying out in front of me, my eyes fill with anger daring him, anyone, to take a step towards me. The raider steps back obviously, unsure what to do.

  "What's going on here?" A large better-dressed man comes up behind him.

  "She one crazy bitch. Look wha she done to my ear."

  "Looks like an improvement to me. Maybe you should keep this one!"

  "Not me, I don na want her." The first raider starts backing away slowly, "she all yours." I stare at this man who towers over me. His face is no longer covered in paint and blood, yet he still looks hard and mean. His long black hair is clean, tied back, and his clothes are made from a cloth I’ve never seen before. He is young, strong, and unmarked by battle.

  Not a warrior?

  He was the one on the horse. The one who was coming after my Brathoid before he was murdered. I know it’s him. I hate this man. I hate him almost as much as I hate the one who murdered my brave husband.

  He glares at me with dark blue dangerous eyes, "what is wrong here? Are they dead?"

  "No, not dead, just tired." My voice is hard and filled with rage.

  "No sleep, no rest 'till I say so. Get them up and get back into line." He pointed his long arm, the size of a tree trunk towards the slow moving stragglers trying to keep up. Their clothes are rags, their hair grey with dust and their tears have left tracks of cracked mud stuck to their faces. These are my people and I don't recognize them.

  "No, need rest, all need rest." I point to the line of tired worn out people. "’Less we are meant to walk 'till we dead, if so kill us now." I stand up to my full height and look him right in the eye, daring him to disagree.

  His huge hand came up fast and the blow knocks me off my feet into the dirt. He steps over me grabbing both kids and takes them towards the column of people. I get up ignoring the pain in my face and run for my babies. I jump on his back hitting him as hard as I can, screaming, biting and kicking. He shrugs me off and keeps going, like I am only a bug. I try again, this time getting in front of him and hissing. "don na touch ma kids."

  He only laughs and hands them over to a man herding my people along. I start toward the kids and his hand tangles in my long thick black hair, as he yanks me away from them, dragging me towards the trees. I try to get back on my feet to ease the pain from my hair being pulled out by the roots.

  "You stupid woman. Now what am I supposed to do with you? Choices, choices, what choices are there?"

  I lie on the ground holding my traumatized scalp. A huge dirty boot presses on my chest forcing my body into the dirt, like I am a bug to be stamped to death. I squirm but the more I squirm, the more weight he applies.

  "I can crush your rib cage, puncturing your lungs and let you choke on your own blood. I could strangle you with my bare hands. Watch you die. I could just stab you and leave your body here to rot. However, you are worth nothing dead and you could be worth a lot alive." He pauses. "Hmmm, I choose, not to kill you. Now I am left with 2 choices: Beat you or to leave you with a warning. Which choice shall I make?"

  I look him in the eye and don't move a muscle. I won’t let him see fear. I look directly into his cold hard eyes with defiance. He just stands there, thinking, studying me like I’m something he’s never seen before, an animal. I don’t move. I wait. He moves his head to the side, a look of curiosity comes over his features and then he has made a decision. I can see it in his face. I hold my breath.

  "If I leave you unpunished others will fight me and I don't want that, so, I must choose to beat you, but not too much, you still have value."

  He bends over and takes the front of my doe hide dress in his big meaty hand hauling me to my feet. Before I can take a breath and balance myself, his fist drives into my stomach, knocking any air left out. I can’t take a breath. I can’t scream. Then he slaps me again and again hard enough to leave ugly bruises. My whole head is jarred by each strike, my face is one sharp hot pain and then when he finally finishes beating me, he throws me onto to the ground. Tosses me like I’m waste.

  "You are a woman filled with courage and fight, but you fight the wrong battles. You do not think. We will talk again soon. The next time you feel like fighting, don't. I will not be so merciful next time."

  Logan

  I’ve survived a week of shopping.

  It’s obvious from what Aleesa has been purchasing that something is going on at the

  Lord Magistrates home. The first rumours were all about Aleesa redecorating the townhouse with all the new furniture and furnishing she’d bought. Then everyone was expecting to be invited to a party because of the new dresses she had made.

/>   That’s the thing about court life. The women are bored and love to gossip and Aleesa loves to be at the center of it all. Afternoon tea is circus. Every noble woman is dressed up, each one trying to outdo the other. I sit with the other sell swords watching our silly charges play the roles of peacocks and cats.

  Aleesa is not being discreet at all. She’s bought so much stuff that it will take wagons, plural, to transport it all. We will be a tempting target for bandits and it won’t take much for the noble houses to figure out where we are going. They are already beginning to get suspicious.

  I’ve been trying to think of a solution to this problem and I may have one. There’s a knock on my door, I open it and it’s one of the Lord Magistrate’s slaves.

  “Dinner is ready Sir.”

  I wait for Aleesa to come out of her rooms and then escort her to the dining room, where her father is looking very unhappy. He’s fuming.

  “Sit.”

  I sit, feeling like I did at ten when my father caught Jackson and I bullying a street kid. He’d sat us down, gave us a lecture, and then the whipping of our lives. It must be a father

  thing to make a child feel scared and guilty with just one word. I should go by and visit him tomorrow.

  “Aleesa. We have a problem. You’re purchases have been causing rumours to spread. It has come to my attention that the latest one is getting to close to the truth. What have you been telling people?”

  “Nothing daddy.”

  “Logan, has she said anything?”

  I look from Aleesa to her father and scratch my head. Yep, I’m ten again.

  “There was talk at the tea. Something about Aleesa taking a trip and needs all the items she’s buying for a new place. I don’t think Aleesa said anything, but you know not saying anything can cause, well, people, to make stuff up.”

  “It is dangerous for the houses to know what is going on.” Aleesa was about to say something, when the Count put his hand up. “No don’t say anything.”

  “Oh come on daddy. What does it matter?”