by Sam Barone
But Eskkar didn’t concern himself with her shoulders. He had his arm around her waist, already enjoying the feeling of what appeared to be an ample pair of breasts.
“She’ll slow us down, friend Eskkar. Best to get rid of her now. What if we have to run for it?”
“Then we’ll see. But she may have saved my life, not to mention your bag of gold.” He touched his heels to the horse, and they started moving, keeping the pace to a fast walk.
“My name is Sesta. Thank you for saving me.” She took his hand from her waist and held it against her breast. “They said they would sell me as a slave in Yarmo.”
In the darkness, Eskkar felt himself grinning, relishing the girl’s warmth against his chest. This was much better than carrying a heavy sack.
They rode in silence for some time, each man taking care to guide his mount safely through the night. When they’d covered another two or three miles, Eskkar decided they’d put enough distance between themselves and the bandit camp to halt until morning. He eased Sesta to the ground, then swung down from the horse. Taking his time, he secured both animals, using the halter ropes, to a bush. Sesta stayed with him, unwilling to leave his side. With the horses attended to, Eskkar relaxed on the grass, facing his companion.
Neither man spoke, and Sesta leaned against Eskkar’s shoulder. Within moments, her eyes closed and her breathing deepened.
At last Bracca broke the silence. He stretched out his legs, his back supported by the bag of loot. “You know, Eskkar, we make a good team, the two of us. Together, we might be able to accomplish much.”
To his surprise, Eskkar had been thinking much the same thing. “Maybe some day we’ll be able to steal enough so that we can settle down without worrying about when our next meal is arriving, or if someone is going to put a knife in our ribs while we’re sleeping. I’ll settle for that, friend Bracca.”
“Not me,” Bracca said. “I want at least a village all to myself. Along with a handful of women to care for me.”
“And who will protect you from your wives, let alone all the enemies you’re sure to make?”
“That’s where you come in, friend Eskkar. I’ll always have a place in my service for a man with a strong back and weak mind.”
Though he would never admit it, Eskkar thought it more than likely events would happen just that way. He grunted in annoyance at the idea, but really couldn’t see much of a future for himself. Staying alive was about as much as any outcast barbarian could expect. But no sense admitting that to his carefree companion. “We’ll see who ends up with a village, friend Bracca, and who ends up in the demons’ pit. We may both be surprised.”
Bracca laughed. “I’ll take that wager, my friend. But I’m sure we can both find what we need.” He patted the stolen sack, and the dull clink of metal could be heard.
“Well, enjoy your half of the loot, friend Bracca. But this is one woman we won’t be sharing.”
“I thought we agreed . . .” Bracca never finished his words.
“There will be no sharing,” Sesta announced. “You wanted to leave me behind. If you lay a hand on me, I’ll cut your throat while you’re asleep.”
Oh, yes, Eskkar decided. The gods had indeed favored him through another fight. Now something told him that Sesta would provide more than a romp in the grass. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and drew her close to him. He had a feeling that the next few days would be very interesting.
The End