William nodded his approval at Darius’s behavior. Rather than striking out in rage as Jacob had, Darius accepted the hits in order to judge the strength and style of his opponent.
The next time Jacob swung wildly, Darius dodged easily aside, frustrating the young man across from him further. As swing after swing hit only air, Jacob began to tire, and when, without warning, Darius landed his first and only blow, the power behind it stunned Jacob, sending him to his knees. In one fluid movement, Darius came behind him, clamped a vice-like arm to Jacob’s throat, and held the position until the lack of blood and oxygen rendered him unconscious. Darius released his hold and let Jacob fall to the snow before he turned and stalked back to the sleds. The rage that surged through him had no outlet with Jacob so easily disposed of, and he picked up one of the sleds’ leads, leaned into the load, and began to drag the heavy burden back to the keep.
William joined him, adding his strength to the task. They left the others behind and plodded forward in silence.
The trip home was slow and tedious, and not much of Darius’s anger had ebbed by the time they reached the bailey. Darius dropped the poles, entered the keep, and walked with speed towards his room, hoping to avoid detection as he passed the Great Hall, but he was sorely disappointed. Dearra had heard the now familiar heavy footfalls and ran to greet him.
When Dearra saw Darius’s eye had swollen almost completely shut, and the purple bruise that had blossomed on his jaw, her eyes blazed. “What now? Was it Jacob? It was, wasn’t it? I’ll kill him! Come, let me see to your injuries.” She set a hand on his arm, and tried to steer him into the Great Hall.
“Leave me be!” he bellowed. “I need no attention! The injuries are nothing. Must you forever coddle me?
“You will kill Jacob? Am I so useless I cannot defend myself? I am a man; a Breken warrior! I need no woman to hide behind, nor to defend my honor.
“Just leave me alone, Dearra!” He yanked his arm from her hand and made for his chamber.
Dearra stood in the hall, too bewildered to react. Two emotions warred within her: hurt at the rebuke she had received and anger over the perceived injustice. She took a step as if to follow Darius, but William was there to stop her.
“Let him go,” he said.
“But he accuses me of treating him unfairly. He says I coddle him too much. He acts like I make him less of a man!”
“You do.”
“I…” Dearra hesitated after the word, unable to think of a response.
Carly approached Dearra and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Come on, Dearra. The rest of the men will be back soon, and we need to have supper ready. Maybe if I get the soup finished, no one will notice your hideous bread.”
Dearra smiled slightly at her friend’s attempt to improve her mood, gave up, and went with Carly back to the kitchens.
***
Darius did not appear for the evening meal that night. The tray of food Dearra had left outside his door remained untouched the following morning. She tried to knock on his door at least a dozen times, but she was stopped by Brin each time.
Leave him be, Dearra. Brin told her. There’s more to this than you know. He needs to deal with this in his own way.
“Yes, I can see how starving to death while sulking in your room could be the answer to everything,” she snapped, but she left him in peace.
On the third day, Brin said, Okay, enough is enough. Take me to Daniel. We’ll stop and get William on the way.
“Finally!” Dearra said, and she jumped to her feet and darted down the stairs.
Acting as Brin’s interpreter, she sat with Daniel and William in the weapons room of Maj Keep.
“Oh, for Cyrus’s sake! You’ve got to be joking!” Dearra said.
“Dearra,” Daniel said, “we can’t hear the blasted sword. What did it say?” He had been patient as much as possible up until that point, getting the story in dribs and drabs, but Dearra’s silent conversations with the sword were starting to get on his nerves.
“Evidently, tomorrow is Darius’s birthday. It seems that each year on their birthdays, the Breken have to undergo some test of manhood to prove they still deserve to be warriors and ensure their places in society. The Breken who are unable to prove themselves worthy, just go off somewhere to die, or some other such nonsense.” Dearra huffed at the absurdity of it, but William and Daniel seemed less inclined to dismiss the custom so casually. “It seems the whole chain of events with Jacob has Darius questioning his manhood, if you can believe that.”
William had not been privy to the events leading up to this moment, and he turned to Dearra with a questioning look.
“Jacob had him pinned against a rock when he first came here and was too weak to defend himself. Then they had a confrontation in the Great Hall when Darius was unarmed and unable to do much to defend himself. Then there was the time Jacob hurt me at Harvest Celebration, and I snapped two of Jacob’s fingers before Darius could intercede….”
“What?” Daniel said. “You led me to believe the time he slapped you was the first incident!”
William opened his eyes wide, as he listened to the shocking news.
“Please don’t interrupt, Daniel. It happened too long ago for you to still be angry about it now.”
“Humph!”
“So, yes, then there was the time he slapped me, and again, we stopped him.”
“Had I known, I would have held the coward down while Darius beat him senseless.”
Dearra sighed and ignored the outburst. “Then there was the time at the winter solstice, when, with his arm in a sling, he had to rely on all of us stepping forward in his defense, and now this latest, where I suggested I would protect him. Even though that’s not what I meant, I guess it’s all just proven too much.”
“So let me get this straight: he needs to prove he is a man on his birthday in order to restore his pride?” Daniel asked.
Dearra consulted with Brin for a moment before responding, “Yes, that’s about the size of it.”
“Are there any special requirements to this test?”
“No, it can be anything that requires strength or courage.”
William and Daniel looked at each other with slow smiles spreading across their features. “Leave it to us, Dearra.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Don’t you worry about a thing; this is man’s work.” Daniel chuckled and the sound was almost devious.
“Men!” Dearra said, and she threw her hands in the air in exasperation, though, truth be told, she felt much better than she had in days.
Chapter 26
Darius drifted to sleep having overcome his hunger pangs, which had been growing more insistent as the day progressed, making it difficult to rest. His mind kept returning to Dearra and the way her face had looked when he yelled at her. Though the thought was painful to him, he felt he deserved to suffer. All she had done was care for him and he had lashed out at her. It wasn’t her fault he wasn’t a man. She wasn’t to blame for his failure. As a Breken, he knew that if he could no longer be called a man and a warrior, his life was forfeit. The kindly people of Maj weren’t likely to help him die, but that didn’t mean there weren’t ways.
Darius saw his world from beneath a blanket of self-doubt and pity. His life was a series of events completely beyond his control, which had conspired to plant the seeds of doubt in his mind. Darius had let those seeds take root until they threatened to crowd out everything else. Dearra would have called his behavior a temper tantrum. Brin would have called it human nonsense. Daniel and William would have recognized it for what it was: the angst of a young man completely in love and completely out of his element. Darius felt small and ineffective beside Dearra. She was an incredible women and she deserved so much better. Letting go of her would be the hardest thing he ever had to do.
Two stealthy shadows crept into Darius’s room as he slept. He must have been truly exhausted, for even when Daniel stubbed his foot on the large c
hest at the foot of the bed, Darius did not stir, which was just as well; if the Breken woke, they knew they would be in for a fight.
Daniel held a finger up to his companion. William nodded and held the rough burlap bag in his hand higher. Daniel lifted two fingers and walked around to Darius’s front as he slept. Daniel and William made eye contact, Daniel lifted a third finger, and they sprang into action as one.
Daniel had a rope over one of Darius’s wrists before he’d had the chance to open an eye. The rope wrapped around the other wrist, and the Breken sat upright in confusion.
Darius opened his mouth to ask Daniel the meaning of this treatment, certain it was the result of some misunderstanding or other and he was not overly concerned. But as he opened his mouth to speak, a thick cloth was shoved between his teeth, and a soft leather strap was wrapped around his face to hold the offensive gag in place. Now his eyes went wide, and he shot to his feet, spinning around to face his second attacker. Another wave of confusion swept over him when he saw William standing before him, and Daniel swept a booted foot around in a wide circle, knocking Darius’s feet out from under him. Darius fell with a resounding thud.
“Look, boy, we can do this easy, or we can do this hard. I’d just as soon not strain my back carrying a great lout such as yourself, but if you won’t behave, well, then…”
Darius didn’t know what they were up to, but he didn’t like it. Even William’s reassuring smile did little to dispel his rising ire.
“Well? What’s it to be? Will you walk willingly, or do we truss you up like a hog on a spit and carry you out?”
Unable to speak, Darius lifted his feet off the floor, mimed walking motions, shooting daggers from his eyes at Daniel.
“Excellent! William, the blind.”
Darius seethed. He scowled deeper still as William came forward, seemingly apologetically, with the burlap sack. Just before slipping it over Darius’s head William offered him a little wink, and then Darius’s world went black.
Darius felt the men drape his coat over his shoulders, so he knew they planned to take him outside. His mind spun as he tried to make sense of all of this. Based on William’s cordial smile and Daniel’s teasing voice, he knew there was nothing truly wrong, but he was completely at a loss as to the reason for this extreme treatment. Coupled with his lack of food and sleep, Darius was so muddled, he doubted his ability to really reason the situation out effectively.
“Did you bring it?” Darius heard Daniel ask. “Ah! Perfect. But for Cyrus’s sake, watch where you swing that thing. If you hit me with it you’re liable to break something.”
William chuckled softly.
Darius heard the door of the keep swing open, and he was buffeted by a cold wind. It was nothing as terrible as the storm he had endured two months ago, but still enough to ensure he was fully awake. Daniel led him forward by one arm, seeming to delight in walking Darius into as many trees as possible as they went.
They came to a halt after what must have been at least an hour. “Sit down, boy,” Daniel commanded.
Darius lowered himself to the ground expecting to find snow beneath him, but someone had cleared the ground, leaving behind only a light dusting of the powder covering a thick blanket of leaves. Darius felt another rope as they wrapped it tightly around him, securing his body to a tree with his legs left straight out in front of him on the cold, hard ground. His wrists were tied in front, but his hands were completely useless once his arms had been tied down.
Darius heard the rattle of pans and the men’s soft grunts as they seemed to be dragging something heavy. Before long, Darius heard the crackle of a fire, and then felt its radiating warmth in the distance. A little while later, the smell of a rich stew wafted toward him, and his stomach began to growl.
When the burlap bag was finally yanked from his head, he saw a merry fire dancing not more than twenty feet away. Two large logs had been pulled close to serve as benches, and a tripod had been erected over the blaze to cook the delicious-smelling stew. William started the process of removing the gag from Darius’s mouth.
“Oh, William! Must we?” Daniel said. “I like him so much better this way.” Daniel broke into a hearty laugh.
William rolled his eyes and gently unbound the leather tie from the Breken’s mouth, and removed the gag from between his teeth.
Darius worked his stiff jaw from side to side, and then spoke as calmly as he could. “What do you think you’re doing? Why have you forced me into the woods at what must surely be the middle of the night?”
“It is indeed the middle of the night! The very middle of the night. Happy birthday, boy!” Daniel smiled delightedly. His anticipation of the upcoming fun shone in his eyes.
“I don’t understand. What has my birthday got to do with—”
“Brin! Damn that interfering sword!” Darius stormed, straining against the ropes.
“Oh, good; you got it right away. I thought we were going to have to go through a whole, long ordeal to get you to fess up. It was, indeed, the sword who told us about your charming birthday customs. This is much easier than trying to get you to admit to it, don’t you think? I’m too old to play games until dawn. Unless, of course, they are of a different sort.”
William laughed at the crude joke, thinking of his tempting Catherine nestled beneath the warm blankets of their bed. He nodded to himself, agreeing with Daniel.
“This is unnecessary, Daniel. Release me. I have no need of your feeble attempts to recreate Breken tradition.”
“Well, if you really feel that way, Darius.”
“I do!”
“Alright, then.” Daniel took a few steps forward, but instead of coming all the way, he stopped three feet short of the Breken and dropped a knife to the ground. “You go right ahead and cut those ropes off yourself, then you can join us by the fire. It’s pretty cold out here, and you’ll be much more comfortable with us. I’m glad you changed your mind.”
Darius stared at the knife, dropped, purposefully, out of his reach. “Daniel!” he said.
“That’s right, boy. You can join us whenever you’re ready. We’ll be waiting for you by the warmth of the fire.”
“Daniel!” Darius growled, but he was completely ignored by the two men who’d ambled back to their seats and relaxed, waiting for the stew to simmer a bit longer.
The knife might as well have been back in Parsaia, for all the good it was doing Darius. Refusing to let Daniel’s annoying behavior get the better of him, he managed to calm himself and look around. There was a small twig leaning against his booted foot. He tried to move the branch closer with his foot, but found his movements clumsy in the thick leather boots he wore. Slowly but steadily, he was able to remove the boots to expose stockinged feet and grasped the branch between his toes.
He was exultant with this achievement until he realized how useless the little twig was. Rather than give into his frustration, he surveyed the area again and saw another stick, longer and sturdier than the first, within his reach, if he were able to use the tiny branch to assist him. He tried several times until, at last, he was able to hook the bigger branch and tug it toward him.
He discarded the tiny twig, and used the longer, larger one between his toes. He lined up the branch with the knife and tried to grab it, but trying to grasp a straight blade with a straight stick proved to be more difficult than it looked, and time and again, the stick just slid ineffectively along the knife. Every once in a while he would catch the knife just right, and it would nudge closer to him, sometimes only by a fraction of an inch, but closer, nevertheless.
Eventually his patience paid off, and his foot made contact with cold steel. In his haste he forgot that a foot, especially a foot covered in a stocking, was not the same as a hand, but he was reminded when his dexterity had reached its limits, and the knife slipped from the toes that gripped it, and stuck into the hard ground.
When Darius saw where the knife had landed, his breath whistled between his teeth. If he had felt emo
tionally castrated over the last few months, it dimmed in comparison to how close he had come to doing the job for real.
Darius took a slow, steadying breath, stretched out his fingers, and pulled the knife from between his legs. Deftly spinning the blade around, he sliced the ropes that bound his wrists, and then sawed steadily away the coils around his arms. When he was free, he replaced his boots, and stood looking at the spot he had formerly occupied.
He had done it! It wasn’t much of a test really. It had not been life or death, but it easily could have been, and he had kept his calm and used his wits to free himself.
It was a slightly more confident Darius that sauntered over to the fire and helped himself to a large bowl of the steaming stew.
The men were quiet, too busy enjoying the rich gravy, soft potatoes, and tender carrots of the stew, to comment on the trial Darius had just endured.
“This is wonderful! Who made it?” Darius asked, finally breaking the silence.
“Carly.” Daniel’s response was short, but the fact that he knew who had made the food he ate showed his attention to her. Normally, he wouldn’t remember what he had for breakfast, let alone remember who had cooked it.
Darius was still a little irked with Daniel and couldn’t help himself. “Hmm. Looks and she can cook? The stew is as tasty as the girl,” Darius said, and he went back to his meal.
Daniel leapt up and turned on Darius. “What the hell does that mean? As tasty as the girl?”
William burst into laughter, and Darius was right behind him.
Daniel closed his mouth and took a seat, flustered at having fallen for the bait so easily.
“I know you too well to think that was all you had in store for me, Daniel. What’s next?”
“Honestly, Darius, where do you get your cynicism? We are just three men, out enjoying a little bonding.”
“Uh, huh. What’s next?” Darius asked again.
Daniel laughed and got to his feet. “Come on, boy. After a meal like that, we need a little exercise.”
***
Breathe (The Destiny Series: Book 1) Page 25