A World Apart (The Jake Thomas Trilogy - Book 1)

by Tolle, Steven A.

  The sky was starting to darken when they halted for the night, stopping in a large clearing ringed with trees and bushes. As usual, Jake was thrown to the ground by Surt, the pain from his injuries reigniting. Jake's hands ached from the bindings and he was concerned that they were being seriously damaged. He rolled over to his side and got up to his knees, head spinning. He took several deep breaths and slowly the spinning stopped. He tried to stretch his upper body to alleviate the soreness in his abdomen from being carried. He strained against his bindings, hoping to loosen them to give his hands more circulation.

  Jake was left alone with Matus as the rest of the men were sent out to gather firewood. Matus had sat down, with his back to a tree across the clearing, pulled the hood of his cloak up and leaned his head back. Even though he appeared disinterested, Jake could feel the man's eyes on him. Jake stayed as quiet and still as he could, only shifting slightly as he continued to try to stretch his sore muscles.

  Soon, the others had returned with firewood and got a large campfire going in the middle of the clearing. The men sat around the fire, eating, drinking and laughing; all except Matus and Surt. Matus sat there motionless, about ten feet away from the fire, like a dark statue. Surt was sitting slightly apart from the rest of the men, tearing at his food while glaring from under his deep brows at, alternatively, Matus and Jake.

  One of the men got up and came over to Jake, a waterskin in his hand. "Here, boy…drink." The man said. Jake opened his mouth and the man poured the liquid into his mouth. As soon as he swallowed the first gulp, Jake realized that it was not water. The liquid burned as it went down, causing Jake to cough harshly.

  Jake closed his mouth and moved his head to avoid the flow. He was rewarded with a shower of the liquid over his face, stinging and burning as it got into his wounds and his eyes. He fell to his side, coughing uncontrollably, desperate enough to rub his face in the dirt to get the liquid off. Tears flowed from his eyes, both from the pain and the liquid.

  The other men laughed at Jake as the man took a deep swig from the bag and made his way back to the fire. They made crude remarks about his manhood and keeping his liquor down. Through his pain, Jake was surprised that Matus did not say anything, considering how he had treated Surt earlier. Apparently, Surt also took this silence as encouragement to heap cruelty onto Jake.

  "He cries like a girl." Surt said, causing some chuckles from the others. Surt moved over to Jake. "Are you sure you are really a boy?"

  "Boy or girl, when did that make a difference to you, Surt?" One of the men shouted, causing the others to laugh raucously.

  "I think I should check." Surt said, his hand reaching into Jake's crotch. Jake struggled to get away from him, but Surt held him down with his other hand. "What do we have here?" Surt said as he suddenly squeezed down hard.

  Jake screamed from the new pain, frantically flailing around, trying to get free. He could hear to the other men laughing at his plight, some shouting crude suggestions to Surt. The humiliation of the situation added to his pain. Jake was trying to kick his leg to dislodge Surt, when he heard a heavy blow and the pressure ceased. Jake opened his eyes as saw Matus moving past him towards Surt, who was stumbling back from Matus' kick.

  Surt fell, then rolled and sprang to his feet, hand flashing to his sword. Matus leapt forward, his hand coming down on Surt's wrist, preventing Surt from drawing his sword. As he did that, Matus crashed the elbow of his other arm into Surt's face. Surt staggered back, stunned. Matus immediately followed with a kick to Surt's groin, causing him to double over. Matus grabbed Surt's head and kneed him in the face. Surt fell back, blood flowing from his nose and mouth. Matus quickly knelt, his left knee on Surt's right arm and the other knee in his chest.

  "I warned you to leave the boy alone, Surt. You don't listen very well." Matus told the semi-conscious Surt, voice cold and hard. With a deliberate casualness, he reached out and grabbed Surt's right ear. He drew his dagger and, with a quick slash, cut Surt's ear off. Surt cried out, blood spurting from the wound. Matus released him and stood, tossing the severed ear on the ground next to Surt. "Maybe that will teach you to listen next time." He turned to head back to his resting spot, leaving Surt rolling in pain on the ground, the other men delighting in Surt's humiliation.

  "Thank you." Jake, who had shifted into a sitting position, said softly to Matus as he passed.

  Matus stopped, looking surprised that Jake had spoken. He bent down and slapped Jake across the face, hard. Jake's head spun and he almost fell over.

  "Don't thank me, boy." Matus said. "I didn't do that for you. Surt needed a lesson to remember who the Master placed in charge."

  "Master?" Jake asked, belatedly realizing that he should have kept quiet.

  "Our Master. He sent us out on this hunt." Matus replied, slapping Jake again. "Don't worry, you will meet him soon. I would stop talking and rest, if I were you. You are going to need your strength." Matus smiled cruelly as he said it, then picked Jake up, carried him a short distance and shoved him down with his back to a tree. "Are you going to be smart and stay put or do I need to tie you up?" Jake nodded nervously as he stared into those cold eyes.

  "Good boy." Matus said with a smirk, patting Jake on the head like a dog. "Despite our Master's command, everything you have experienced so far will pale in comparison if I have to track you down." Matus turned and walked away; the others chuckling, grinning evilly at Jake.

  Jake closed his eyes, stretching his legs out in front of him, leaning against the tree. He tried to take slow breaths, searching for calm, but feeling fear, pain, despair and, surprisingly, anger. He tried to channel that anger into strength, straining against the bindings on his hands. As he flexed his arms and twisted his hands against the bonds, his fingers slid along the ground, the dirt cool and coarse.

  He did not recognize it at first, but as he moved his hand again, he realized he was feeling a small rock, no bigger than his fist, broken with what felt like an edge, partly buried in the dirt. He quickly looked around, afraid his surprise showed on his face, giving him away, but the others were not paying attention to him.

  Slowly, keeping his movements very small to avoid detection, he uncovered the rock. To his delight, the broken side of the rock had a jagged edge. He tucked it into his lower back, and then sat there thinking, trying to determine his next move. He knew he had to get away, but it had to be the right time.

  Night settled over the woods. Jake heard the cry of an owl as it flew silently overhead. Matus sent out a couple of the men to stand watch. The men moved out into the woods, starting a slow circuit around the campsite. The rest, including Surt, his face swollen and a bloody bandage over his ear, took out their sleeping blankets and laid down. Jake could feel Surt glaring at him, but tried to ignore him. Matus had wrapped himself in his cloak next to his tree, lying on his side, facing the fire.

  Soon, the fire began to burn low, its flickering light giving way to the night. The men's snores and the crackling of the embers of the dying fire were the only sounds in the campsite. Jake could hear the guards as they made their circuit, passing behind him on a regular basis. Jake looked closely at the men lying out in front of him, trying to determine if they were all really sleeping. He was not completely sure, but decided to take the chance.

  He quietly moved the rock against the tree, the broken edge pointing out towards him. He slowly began to rub his bonds against the rock. He put pressure on the rope, pushing it back against the rock, trying to speed the cutting. For several minutes, it did not appear that this was going to work. Jake was beginning to despair when he felt a slight decrease in tightness of his bonds. Encouraged, he continued to cut away at the rope. After what seemed like an eternity, he felt the last strand fall away and his hands were free.

  He sat there, not moving, feeling the pain and tingling as the blood flowed back into his hands. He slowly flexed his hands, wiggling his fingers, as the feeling came back. As he sat there, he thought about his next move. Since he had freed
his hands, he knew that this would be his only opportunity to escape. If he was found free of his bonds, he was sure he would be tied up from his feet to his head. He had to move quickly. He decided to wait for the guards to pass behind him on their next round and then make his escape.

  Jake really wanted his phone, the tie to his old life, but, with Matus having possession of it, he knew that was impossible. The wait for the guards seemed to be a lifetime. As he waited, fears and doubts gnawed at him. He was terrified of what would happen if he got caught, but knew he had to get away. A few more fear-soaked minutes ticked by before he heard the guards pass behind him. He gave them another minute or so to move on.

  Jake took a deep breath, praying this would work, and did the hardest thing he had ever done: he slowly stood up. Eyes sweeping over the camp, seeking any signs of movement, sure that he would be found out, he stood there frozen. The men did not move. Cautiously, Jake took a step away from the tree, moving slowly to avoid making noise. Again, no one stirred.

  Fighting the overwhelming urge to start running, Jake deliberately and quietly walked away from the camp. Sweat rolled down his face, stinging his cuts. He passed through the area he believed the guards to be patrolling and continued on, trying to keep his breathing quiet as he strained to hear any sign of pursuit. After traveling another hundred yards or so, he saw a small path in the pale moonlight, leading off into the forest. Seeing this, relief and panic overtook him and he sprinted away.

  Chapter Six

  About an hour after Jake's escape, Matus was still dreaming about the rewards that their Master would bestow on him when they brought him the boy. He dreamed that he would be allowed to take that lickspittle Surt's head after introducing him to a whole new world of pain. He was suffused in the pleasure of the dream when voices shouting shattered his visions.

  He came instantly awake, rolling to his feet, hand on sword. Everyone in the camp was up, wary, and there was a group of four standing at the tree where he left the boy. He immediately thought that Surt had come after the boy. With that thought burning in his head, he started that way with murderous intent. He glanced over and saw Surt still in his blankets near the firepit, battered and bandaged; yet, he appeared to be as surprised by the commotion as Matus.

  Matus came up to the group by the tree, pushed his way through, looking for the boy, but all he saw was the boy's bonds next to the tree, cut. He quickly knelt and found the jagged rock. "So, the boy had some courage in him after all." He thought. He had not believed it or he would have made sure the boy was secured to the tree. He felt the rest of the men watching him, judging, maybe even questioning his leadership.

  Standing abruptly, he spun and pointed to the two men he had left on guard. "How did the boy slip past you?" He asked, voice cold and dangerous. He approached the men, stopping directly in front of them. "Were you lax in your duties? You know what I will do if I find out that you were."

  "Matus, we did as you commanded." One of the men said. "We were patrolling outside of camp, watching for attackers, not someone sneaking out. If you had..." He cut off as Matus smashed his fist into his head, the man going down in a heap, groaning.

  Matus looked at the other one. "Do you have something to say?" He asked quietly.

  "No, Matus." The man replied quickly.

  "Good. Pick that fool up and get ready to leave." Matus turned to the other men. "We depart in three minutes. Anyone not ready to move by then will be left here for the scavengers!" The men hurriedly gathered their supplies and were ready to march before Matus' time or patience ended.

  "We will track and recapture the boy. He is to be taken alive." Matus said. He fixed Surt with a cold stare. "If anyone other than me harms the boy further, they will answer for it in blood." He saw nods all around, even Surt.

  He motioned the men to start moving. "Keep running, boy." He thought, smiling to himself. "I always like a good chase. In the end, you will be mine again."

  ...

  Lost in the grip of fear, Jake ran down the forest path, heedless of his direction. His mind was screaming for him to keep running and get as much distance as possible between his captors and himself. He would slip and fall as he lost his footing in the dark, aggravating all of his injuries, but each time, he got up and continued to run.

  But he was running on fumes and knew it. The bread he was given was not enough to keep him going. He felt his strength ebb and slowed to a walk. His fear kept him moving, afraid that if he stopped he would not be able to restart. As he recovered, he would try to sprint again, but the periods that he could maintain it grew shorter and shorter. After the last sprint, he could not help himself and stopped, hands on his legs, lungs burning.

  As he paused to catch his breath, Jake heard the soft sound of running water off to his right and turned towards it. Stifling a groan, he made himself move and pushed his way through some tall underbrush and saw a small stream, its water an inky black in the soft moonlight. He stopped at the edge and knelt down to drink. The water had a muddy taste to it, but Jake did not care and drank deeply. It cooled his parched throat, easing the rough feel in the back of his mouth.

  He only knelt for a few seconds, but as he rose, he could feel his legs starting to cramp. He propelled himself in motion, trying to ignore the painful muscle contractions. He walked into the stream, heedless of the water soaking his shoes and socks, and turned upstream. He hoped that walking in the stream would throw off his trail against the inevitable pursuit. He stumbled and splashed his way for several hundred yards, then exited and continued on through the forest, angling away from the stream.

  His shoes now drenched in water, he found the going slower. He tried to sprint at intervals, but his body was giving out. His legs were cramping more strongly and the lack of food was draining his energy. Soon, he could only walk and even that was growing more difficult.

  As the forest became lighter as dawn approached, Jake heard the sounds of the men looking for him in the distance. The sounds were still far away, but Jake could think of nothing else he could do but to keep moving. He tried to pick up his pace, but he had nothing else to give. His fear began to rise, mind imagining the horrible things that were likely to happen to him when he was caught, as the sounds drew closer.

  As he pushed headlong into bushes that rose in his path, the branches ripping his clothes and scratching his skin, he realized that the stream did not provide the diversion he hoped. He could just make out the voices that shouted that they had found his trail and the sounds of feet splashing through the water. He continued to move forward, desperate to get away, knowing that he couldn't.

  The voices grew steadily louder as the distance closed between Jake and his pursuers. With the men closing in, Jake's terror caused his body to respond with a final surge of adrenaline, allowing him to make one more sprint. He raced ahead, only focused on trying to gain some distance, his wet shoes making squishing sounds as he ran. As a wall of bushes appeared ahead of him in the faint light, he simply lowered his head and ran through them. As he crashed through the branches, eyes closed and breath raggedly pushing in and out of his lungs, he came to a sudden stop as he hit something large that was both hard and soft, as well as warm.

  He was staggered by the collision and collapsed to the ground, his momentum causing him to roll a couple of times. He tried to stand back up, but his legs cramped and he went back down. He pushed himself over onto his side and looked around, trying to determine what he had hit.

  He saw that he was in a clearing, ringed on three sides by bushes. There was a small fire pit in the middle and he saw a saddle and sleeping blanket lying on the ground next to it. He saw that through the legs of a large black horse, standing a couple of feet away, its head, shoulders and front flanks covered in grey steel armor. Jake must have hit it in the side and bounced off. The horse reared back, its teeth bared, front metal-shod hooves wheeling. Jake could only stare and wait for the hooves to fall when a deep voice called out. "Stand, Shadow!"

  The horse c
ame back down, snorting and swinging its head. A tall man, at least six three or six four, wearing a metal breastplate, greaves and vambraces over brown leather pants and a tan shirt, stepped from behind the horse. In the early morning light, Jake could see that the man was muscular with short dark hair, with some gray sprinkled in, and bright blue eyes. The man would have been considered handsome, except that his lean and hard face was lined with multiple scars, with an especially wicked looking one that ran from above his right eye, down diagonally across his nose and ending near his jaw line on his left cheek. He wore a brown leather belt with a long dagger and an empty sheath for the long doubled-edged sword in his right hand. Besides the weapon, Jake sensed a dangerousness, an air of violence, radiating from the man and knew this had to be the Master that Matus had mentioned. He cried out in frustration and fear, trying to crawl away.

  "Easy, boy." The man said, his deep voice rumbling. "I'm not going to kill you. What has you so terrified that you were running blind?" Jake did not respond as he continued to crawl, his only thought to get away from this man.

  The man simply reached down and grabbed Jake's leg with his left hand and pulled him back towards his fire, Jake clawing at the ground to stop him. He stopped, dropped Jake's legs and grabbed his arm. His grip was firm, but not cruel, as he flipped Jake onto his back. Jake could only look at him with terrified eyes, formless noises in his throat.

  "Boy, I asked you what you are running from." The man said sternly. His eyes were hard and not friendly. "I see you have had a rough time of it, but I need to know what trouble you are in." Before Jake could say anything, the two men who had been on guard duty barreled through the bushes into the clearing.

  To Jake's surprise and confusion, as soon as the tall man saw the other two, he immediately launched himself towards them. The two men reacted in shock, stumbling back, yelling and reaching for their swords. They apparently were only expecting to find Jake, not an armed warrior. The two men's swords had barely cleared their sheaths when the tall man was on them. His blade flashed as he struck and one man was down, hands grasping his throat, blood pouring from between his fingers. The other man was able to swing his sword, but it was parried and, with a twist of his wrist, the tall man ran him through.