by Bekah Clark
Nodding, I went back to devouring the bird that I suspected was a small, wild game hen. After a time, I said, “When we get to your home, I’ll check for what plants I need. What’s the name of your home, anyway?”
“The lands are called Glane. My city is Kingshold.”
Ice coursed through my veins. My hands trembled as I said, “You’re a barbarian of the West? But I thought you said you held back the evil from there!”
He laughed. “Barbarians? So that’s why they don’t help. Lass, if it wasn’t for us barbarians, darkness would sweep across this land.”
I finished off my meal and cast the bones into the fire. There was a danger greater than the barbarians? It was hard to comprehend such a thing. But more than that, it was possible I came from those very lands. Or, at least, my great-grandmother did.
My eyes rose to Torric, and I ignored the quickening of my heart. Could I just blindly believe what he said? It was possible he’d say anything to keep me and have me heal his barbarian king. My eyes roved the area where we rested. I couldn’t leave now. However, the moment he felt secure that I would not leave, I would make my escape.
“If you’re done, we need to get going, lass.”
I nodded feebly, feeling numb inside. I didn’t want to go west. I didn’t want to face whatever darkness lay there. However, Torric put out the fire, gently grabbed my arm to haul me up, and took me to the horse. His strong arms lifted me up and placed me on the saddle before he swung up behind me. He wrapped one arm around my waist and took the reins with the other. With that, we were once again cantering west.
And what hope did I have? No one would come for me. And if I did escape, what about the bandits? If I ran into them on my way home, there was no telling what they’d do to me. I shivered, and he tightened his arm around me. “Cold, lass?” His voice was gentle with concern.
It took everything for me to find my voice. I softly breathed, “Yes.” My eyes closed, but all I could feel was the fire of his chest against my back, the warmth of his arm around my waist, and his soft, soothing breath at my temple. It was hard to think that he would hurt me the way I had been taught barbarians would harm us. Was I treating him the way my neighbors treated me? If what he said was true, then my great-grandmother was a barbarian. Plus, there was this great darkness in the West from which, he claimed, his people protected us. I just didn’t understand so many things. How was I going to know the right course?
One thing was certain—with each passing moment, I was closer to his home and farther from mine. Each day I would only get more lost. I should have risked running when he went off to get food for me. If I had searched his saddlebags, I may have found more to eat. Instead, I had squandered my chance.
I didn’t realize I was weeping until a gentle, calloused hand brushed tears from my cheeks. His arm tightened around me and his lips kissed my temple. I knew he was trying to comfort me, but that just made the tears fall more freely. “Hush now, lass. I promise you’ll be safe. And once we’re in your new home, you’ll be happy.”
“Yes,” I choked out. “Until an assassin comes to kill me. I won’t be safe there. I want to go home!”
His other arm came around me, and he hugged me to him. He whispered in my ear, “I wish I could take this pain from you, lass, but it’ll be all right.”
“My name is Zianya!”
He chuckled softly. “Once you’re with your own people, Zianya, you’ll be happy. I promise you.”
“But you are taking me from my people!”
He exhaled softly. “I know you can’t see it now, lass, but those aren’t your people. If they were, they’d accept you.”
I stiffened in his arms. “How do you know they don’t accept me? You could construe what I said as the rantings of a girl who is feeling bad for herself. Even before I said anything, you asked how I could think of it as home.”
He growled and I shook nervously. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. But if some man on a horse started to carry off one of the young women of my village, I would’ve stopped him. Right there, at the gate, your constable looked at you, then me, and then he stepped aside. He was unwilling to help you for fear of his own life.”
Tears rapidly slipped down my cheeks and I wept freely. My own uncle had abandoned me to this barbarian of the West. He didn’t even try to stop him, didn’t even worry over my well-being with this warrior. Torric did his best to comfort me, but I was inconsolable as I sobbed in his arms. Eventually, he gave up and just held me tight. Soon after, I exhausted myself and fell into the sweet abyss of sleep.
Chapter Three
The cotton scent of my grandmother’s blue-gray quilt surrounded me as consciousness slowly crept into my mind. It was my favorite quilt, with intricate stitches weaving a different plant on each square. I nuzzled into it, remembering when I was little, watching her put in every loving stitch as she explained the process of quilting. When my mind cleared of sleep, I realized I was out under the stars with a roaring fire pouring out waves of heat beside me.
Suddenly, the events of the day came crashing down around me. I let out a groan and burrowed deeper into the quilt, not wanting to face reality. To my right, I heard a honey-warm chuckle. Peeking out, my eyes caressed Torric’s powerful form as he was scraping his scruff off with a sharp knife. His shoulder-length midnight hair swirled in the breeze, glinting in the firelight. The men of my village all had beards, especially the older ones who held places of importance in Vella. I wondered if it was different in the West.
As I looked at him, I guessed his age to be close to twenty-eight, though probably a little shy. I wondered if he had a woman waiting for him at home, and that thought sent a jolt of cold water through my veins.
“What’s Kingshold like?” I asked softly, as I finally sat up and watched the flames weaving patterns in the night. Every so often, my eyes darted to his hair, his eyes, and his bare chest. I’d never seen a man like him before, with a body honed like carved stone. Every large muscle defined so beautifully, so unlike the slighter frames of the men of Vella.
He flashed me a heartfelt smile before telling me, “The castle is in the center of the city, with a single huge spiral tower in the center. The city itself has a large black wall protecting it.”
Curiosity filled me. “Red roofs to keep out evil?”
He laughed. “No, but roofs of various colors. We don’t look upon red the way they do here in the East.”
My stomach grumbled and I glanced away, hoping he hadn’t heard it. His deep chuckle told me it was too late. Heat touched my cheeks as I wished that my stomach wasn’t so prone to loud noises.
As I purposefully gazed at the woods, he said, “Hungry? I was waiting to put the meat on for you to wake up. I’ll get that going and bring you some bread and butter to tide you over.”
He busied himself for a little while, then came over and handed me a couple of buttered slices of bread. My eyes met his and I inhaled quickly. The air had a sudden tinge of cinnamon and a strong, woodsy scent. I realized it was him. Feeling a flush sweep into my cheeks, I whirled my gaze back to the fire. It took a few moments for me to find my voice. “Thank you. Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Are green eyes common in the West?”
When he didn’t speak right away, I glanced up to find him watching me. He smiled and put the spit over the fire with a couple of hares on it. Once that was going, he sat next to me. “Very common—about as common as the others. People reacted badly to me but until now, I didn’t realize green was that uncommon here, hmm?”
I let out a long breath. “Just another sign that I must be evil.” I tried to sound amused by it but failed miserably as the words came out a bit strangled.
He growled, “I could knock those bastards around. Having a healer is a blessing, and they’ve treated you as a curse.”
I let his words sink into me for a moment before I responded. “People fear what they don’t understand. It’s j
ust how they are. You can’t allow yourself to hate them for it.”
He shook his head. “Where I’m from, you’d be respected.”
Meeting his even gaze, a smile crept across my lips. I wondered what it would have been like, growing up surrounded by appreciation and admiration. Would I still be me? Or would I be arrogant? “Your healers, they must have been rich.”
He laughed. “Do you heal for money?”
My lips twisted, wondering what he was getting at. “Well, I sell my wares.”
Leaning closer, he grinned down at me. “You sell your wares, but do you heal for money?”
Tilting my head I asked, “How do you know that?”
“While there are no known healers around now, it’s a known fact that a healer feels compelled to heal someone who’s wounded. It’s only when a person is gravely wounded that they can resist. A self-preservation response, I was told.”
My eyes narrowed. “You obviously had this information before my explanation the other day. How do you know this?”
“My grandmother was the last known healer in our area. There may be others, but they’re in hiding.”
There was great sorrow in his eyes, and before I could stop myself, I reached out and gently stroked his face. His eyes turned to mine, emerald pools filled with emotion and sudden desire.
I turned from him, trying to fight my own response as I drew my hand away. “I’m sorry about your grandmother.”
Softly, he said, “I was twelve when she died,”
“I was sixteen.” My voice was low and sounded despondent, even to me. I could feel him staring at me, but I didn’t dare turn my eyes to him. If I did, I had a feeling I might not be able to run when the time came. I had to remind myself that he had kidnapped me. What if the king he wanted me to heal was a terrible man? What if they planned on swooping down into my lands and killing my people? I sighed softly. The people. If I were honest with myself, I’d admit that they had never accepted my family.
“Your parents?” His voice held a note of hope. I braced myself because if I didn’t, tears would fall. Shaking my head, I bit my bottom lip to keep my silence. He softly stroked my hair. And as I tried to remain quiet, I found this well inside, wanting to burst forth. Glancing over, I found his eyes full of concern. Spirits help me. He was not what I thought he’d be. Closing my eyes a moment, I tried to speak of it as if I were talking about someone else. “As you wish. My father had gone off hunting. My mother and I were high on the mountain, gathering herbs. When we came back, we discovered that his horse had thrown him and he had died. There was nothing we could do. My uncle blamed my mother. But what could she do? He was already dead. My mother…”
I took a deep, shaking breath and closed my eyes again. He pulled me to his side, and I could feel his warmth seeping into my bones. The woodsy and cinnamon scent of his body surrounded me. I was surprised that something tight in my chest—something that I had not realized had been there my whole life—suddenly uncoiled. The strength to finish my story filled me. “My mother could not bear to be alone. One day, when I went to gather plants, she took a bunch of helvan. When I got back, she was already long dead.”
“How old were you?”
I let out a short, rueful laugh. “Fortunately, I was eighteen. They still tried to take the house from me even though I was of age.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Did they, now?”
I smirked. “Senna is a midwife and the wife of our priest. She’s been trying to get rid of my family for years. I’m sure she’s very happy now.”
Torric removed the meat from the fire and gave me one of the cooked hares. It was plain, but good. I’d have to take care of the cooking soon if I wanted any seasoning.
I chewed thoughtfully, watching him. If I stayed much longer, that is. “What about your parents?”
“My mother relocated to the border of your lands. It’s safer there. My father died in the raid—the same raid in which our King was poisoned. We don’t know how someone got close enough to poison him, he hadn’t even been cut.”
I paused in my meal and then turned my eyes to him. “I’m sorry.”
He smiled sadly. “Thank you.”
We finished our meal in companionable silence.
Afterward, I bundled up in the quilt and watched him as he put his sword to his waist. I tilted my head, curious. “Where are you going?”
He smiled. “Don’t worry, lass. I’m just going to scout the area, make sure we’re alone before we sleep.”
Nodding, I curled up on my side and let my eyes watch the flames flicker in the night. I knew he’d keep me safe. I actually wasn’t afraid of him hurting me. The question was, did I want to leave? Also, was my heart safe with him? For reasons I did not understand, I felt drawn to him, and the struggle to ignore that fact was constant.
I drifted off, only to wake some time during the night. When I sat up, I found Torric on the other side of the fire, snoring deeply. This was my chance. I didn’t know where I’d go, but I had to try. The trouble was, as I looked at him, I found that I didn’t want to leave his side. Something about this man was captivating, and fire flooded my heart as I gazed at him. He was powerful, and I had no doubt he would defend me, protect me. But what was I to him but a means to an end? He wanted me to heal his king. If I did that, could it end up harming my own people? As much as I felt like an outcast, as much as I questioned if they were my people, they were the only people I had ever known.
Rising quietly, I stepped lightly as I made my way out of our little campsite. If I went for the horses, I worried he’d hear me. Taking a deep breath, I glanced around. I wasn’t sure where I was, but if I could get to another village, they could direct me back to Vella. Fear shook me, and I paused while shivers rolled through me. I bit my lip—now was the time to move out. Shoving my courage into my heart, I headed out down the path. It was dark, and the night enveloped me in its cool blackness as I left the flickering light of the fire. I wasn’t sure where I was going, and so I stumbled as my eyes adjusted. Glancing up at the stars, I wondered how sailors read them and could tell the direction they were going. They were a mystery to me. A beautiful mystery.
The moon was high and full, which was fortunate because it helped me to see the path I was traveling. Still, the further I got from Torric, the more fear filled my heart. In the night, I could hear the sound of wolves. I silently beseeched the Spirits to keep the animals far away from me. Each noise seemed to spur on the dread that was growing in my chest.
There was a snap of twigs; I froze. My eyes darted around, but all had become quiet. Too quiet. I quelled a whimper and pressed on. If I was going to escape Torric, I could not allow terror to freeze me. This was my chance. He was asleep. On I moved, silently pushing branches out of the way. Farther and farther, I marched from the safety of Torric.
Silence filled the night. And then, there was a growl in the dark. For a moment, I stood still. And then, I was running. Behind me, I could hear a crashing through the underbrush. I didn’t know what it was—but if it caught me, I knew I’d be dead.
I pushed myself to move faster, as fast as my feet could carry me. My green skirt tripped me up around my legs and so I pulled it high as I could. My heart hammered in my chest so wildly I thought that the creature giving chase could hear it. I glanced behind to see if I could catch a glimpse of it. And that was my mistake. I tripped and fell. Ankle throbbing, I rose to try to continue running. But I was too late. There, in front of me, were two large, gray wolves. Slobber dripped from their mouths in large drops as they stared at me. Behind me, I could hear the growl of another as it slowly approached, but I dared not look. I let out a wild scream and turned to the left to flee. I broke through the bushes, as branches clawed at me. Behind me, I could hear the pack giving chase. I bolted, but I knew I would not make it. Still, I shoved aside doubt and the pain in my ankle and I pressed on.
And then suddenly, I slammed into a hard chest and turned my face up to meet fierce, emerald eyes.
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br /> “Get behind me.” His harshly spoken words filled me with a sense of well-being. Before I could respond, he whirled me behind him, his sword drawn as he dashed in among the wolves. Slashing and whirling, he was like a man possessed. The three wolves surrounded him and dashed at him. As his sword sliced across the muzzle of one and dug into the side of another, his other hand, armed with a hunting knife, plunged into the third. He ripped the knife out and skittered out of the jaws of the first wolf before he plunged his blade into him. It happened so fast that, for a brief moment, I couldn’t comprehend it was over.
The need to heal filled my soul and a wolf whimpered. Crazed with need, I reached out to heal it when suddenly a strong arm dragged me away. I struggled against him, but he whispered softly in my ear, “No you don’t. If you heal it, it will try to kill us. Come on. Let’s go back.”
He took my hand and started to trot back to the camp. I stumbled along, and my ankle pulsated. He turned to look at me, and my gait must have shown my weakness, for he drew me to him and whisked me up, hoisting me onto his shoulder as if I weighed nothing. On he trudged through the woods and I was lost. Hanging there, I realized I had lost my chance to flee, and he would be much more cautious with me now. When we arrived at the camp, I expected him to dump me unceremoniously down by the fire. Instead, he gently set me onto a log and reached for my foot. He paused. “May I check your ankle?”
I blinked, surprised, and nodded mutely.
Tenderly, he lifted up my skirt high enough to get a hold of my foot. His hands carefully pressed on the bones, checking me. After a time, he looked up at me with a smile. “It isn’t broken. I’ll wrap it for you.”
I watched him, curious. He went into one of my grandmother’s boxes and pulled out some cloth bandages. Coming back to me, he wrapped my ankle with great care, and still he did not speak harshly or reprimand me in any way. When he finished, he grabbed my quilt and he wrapped me up in it. Trembling, I stared at him with wide eyes, just waiting. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Aren’t you going to say something?”