Mordon spoke between bites of fish, “If the eye patch works, would you be willing to spar with me in a bit of swordplay?”
Raeah responded quickly, “I would be delighted to practice with you. If the patch is effective, and if you do not mind healing from a cut here and there.”
Mordon couldn’t tell from what he could see of her face if she was teasing him. She looked composed and at ease. Without seeing her eyes, there was little indication of what her words portrayed. “I will be easy on you, my lady. But a cut or two from your sword might be what I need. A cut may be the impetus needed to draw me beyond where my skill level rests, gathering dust.” Her laugh was beautiful to Mordon.
“Tomorrow, Sir Mordon, your lessons will begin in earnest.”
“Why do you call me Sir Mordon when you know it is a sham?”
Raeah came to her feet and stepped menacingly toward Mordon’s voice. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, “It is no sham Mordon. Just as Lizbeth knew she had to help heal Duratia by having you cover her women, I know we need nobility. Whether you like it or not, you are Sir Mordon of Widley. Just as I must be the queen. This is not something either one of us chose.”
Raeah felt with her foot for the root on which she had been seated. When she found it, or thought she did, she bent and found her warmed spot, seating herself. “Whether we succeed or fail, Sir Mordon, I thank you for this . . . opportunity you have handed me.”
“Opportunity?”
“Yes, Sir Mordon, without my fortuitous meeting in Widley with an oversized man from my past, I would not be contemplating a life free of Poltarc. Had I not seen and recognized you crawling from beneath the collapsed wall, my life would have been solely Poltarc’s. I would have remained a tool for his lusts of blood and death. At least now, I find glimmers of a lost life surfacing above the madness.”
Mordon glanced at Simper, who was bent over his piece of leather tracing a line with the tip of his knife, after heating it in the coals of the fire. When he looked back to Raeah, a tear was just coming from beneath her blindfold. He felt an almost overwhelming sense of loss with that one tear sliding down her cheek. Mordon knew, beyond a doubt, he had lost any sense of self will. He was hers to command, and even if asked to descend into the pits of hell, he would gladly jump without hesitation. At that moment, he didn’t know if it was real love he felt for this creature, or some sense of right and wrong that clenched his sense of morality in its fist, drawing him toward her. Mordon cleared his tense throat, “If you have cutting in mind, I will withhold any sympathy until we are evenly matched.” Her soft laugh lifted him from their impending danger to a place he longed they could stay.
“Simp, we need to be up and away, we’ve wiled away enough time to fill the rest of the day.”
Simper looked up from his leather work and grinned, “In a rush for the princess to see, are we? Once she gets a good look at the two of us, she may decide to look for better looking help.” It made Simper feel good hearing Raeah laugh, and to see a man the size of Mordon blush.
They left the peaceful shade of the maple for the open roadway. Simper finally gave up trying to work on the leather while riding. The trio and Cutter moved along the road until evening, when Mordon began speaking of other than what they were seeing.
“Are you familiar with this road, Raeah? Is there any place we can encamp out of sight from anyone traveling in this area through the night?”
Raeah already knew exactly where she was intending to stop, “If your description of our whereabouts is accurate, there is a place safe for both man and horse. Half a mile ahead on the right is a small cairn of rock, it marks a turning point. When you see the cairn, lead off the roadway into the trees. You can discern what to do from there.”
Mordon was amazed to find the small pile of stones within the specified distance. The woman knew this roadway very well indeed. Mordon took the turn Raeah had indicated, and found a solid wall of bramble. How was he to find a way through all this? Just as he was about to comment, Raeah spoke from behind.
“Go straight away from the rocks. The horse may balk at first, but nudge him forward until its head is past the first layer of leaves.”
Mordon did this, even though his animal hesitated at the barrier. His horse’s head disappeared, and then Mordon slipped through the thick layer of leaves and small limbs, joining him. The leaves caressed his face and neck as a lover might. He passed through, entering a natural cathedral of high arched limbs, and straight trunked trees covered in crisp, white bark. There was no ground shrubbery, only a layer of moss that must have been a foot deep. He was struck by the beauty of the arched limbs above his head. The ceiling in the Catholic Church in Widley must have been built to emulate these limbs and trees. Raeah’s voice came from behind.
“Beautiful, wouldn’t you say, Sir Mordon?”
Mordon could hear Simper take in a quick breath as he entered the glade. “Yes, Princess, it is beautiful. Do we encamp here?”
“No . . . turn to the right and follow the outside of the glade, past the leafy barrier on the opposite side.”
Mordon did as instructed, and wound his way through the thick white trunks, following her instructions. The weight of horse and rider did little damage to the thick moss. When he had passed through the second barrier of leaves, a meadow opened between two hills. Nearly a half mile long and half that wide, the meadow meandered around the hill to the left and stopped. In the fading light, Mordon could see a fenced in area halfway through the meadow; to this he led the others.
Stepping down from his animal, he patted its neck and tied the reigns to the top cross piece of the weathered, hand hewn ricked fence. By the time, he realized he had forgotten the others, they were already dismounted. This place was breathtaking, with the fall leaves and still green grass of the meadow. “Every place you take us is beautiful, Raeah.”
Raeah was envious of his naïve vision of all things new. It would be so easy to love him, if she let herself. A man his size and age should be becoming disenchanted with it all, but he was not. Everything to Mordon was new and fresh in his eyes. “Leave the horses here in the coral. Quickly now, or my time in this body will end before we reach the hovel.”
Mordon and Simper tied the reigns to the saddles and moved them into the coral. It had little, if any use, the grass grew as profusely inside as out. The animals would have their fill this night.
They followed Raeah’s directions, and found a small trill that ran under the far section of the coral. They crossed it with one stride, and started up a shallow incline. There was no trail, but Raeah’s directions led them unerringly to a small glade above the meadow. There were tailings from a mine sunk into the stone cliff a few feet from the back of a small, but sturdy, shack. Mordon opened the door and stepped in. There was just enough light to see a stack of candles on a shelf.
Simper stepped in behind Mordon, “She’s gone again, Mordon. As soon as you ducked your head and crossed under the lintel, she ran for the trees. She didn’t say anything, but gave my arm a squeeze in passing.” Simper watched Mordon strike flint, and seemed to magically light a candle’s wick.
Light from the candle gave them ample illumination to see the small, but clean, interior of the shack. There was one small table with two three-legged stools. Two pots and a single heavy pan hung from wooden pegs on the wall. A small honeycomb stove stood on four legs in the far corner. Two bunks filled the last corner of the shack. The cross beams below the hewn rafters brushed Mordon’s head as he stepped forward to toss his pack next to one of the stools. The stool felt solid when he sat at table. Mordon watched Simper dig into his pack, and pull out the last of his pork, setting it beside his elbow. He then pulled out the leather he had been working into a patch from his hip pouch. It already looked usable. Cutter lay on the clean wooden floor next to Mordon’s booted feet.
Mordon drew out a piece of the meat and nibbled ab
sentmindedly, “What happens to her body when she changes into the wraith, Simp?”
“I’ve wondered the same thing. I hope it doesn’t involve pain. It would be like the bastard Poltarc to include just such a sensation for the girl.”
“What have you burned into the patch?”
Simper held the patch up so Mordon could see his efforts more clearly. I burned an eye and brow into the surface. If I could remember the color of Raeah’s eyes, I’d try to dye it the same color.”
“She will like it Simp, color the eye any color you want. Sew a button in the center, as long as you leave no holes from the thread.”
Simper dug around in his pack and came up with a small leather pouch. He pulled the draw string loose, and dumped its contents on the table. Six different buttons sat in the glow of the candle’s light; none were of the same size or color. One large mother-of-pearl button shimmered in the light of the flickering flame. Two buttons were white, but of different size. Two were drab brown. One was the color of the bluest sky, with its edge trimmed in gold.
Mordon shook his head, “You’re a walking mercantile, Simp. What were you ever going to do with six different buttons?”
Simper looked at the buttons, and then up to Mordon, “Give a lady back an eye.”
CHAPTER 7
Both men were getting nervous. Full night had fallen, and brought the meadow below them into utter darkness. The hill across from their place of refuge was cloaked by the fabric of night. Simper’s eye patch was long finished, and laid upon the table between the two seated men. The candle finally guttered, and snapped its last flicker of flame.
Mordon caught a glimpse of something blacker than the night float across the one dirty window, and disappear to their left, “She’s here, Simp.” The sight had unnerved Mordon, it was the first time he had ever seen the wraith so plainly. “God, Simp, she’s been waiting for the candle to burn itself out.” Mordon felt like a fool. They were the cause of the delay, not her.
Her voice came laced with impatience, “It is late, and my story is long, nearly as long as my enslavement. Ask no questions of me.”
She was quiet for a moment, and then the two men heard her voice coming from the other side of the thin door.
“Poltarc deemed a test was in order, so he gently took me to a doorway leading to the outside, then pushed me through into the interior of a lean-to attached to the high wall of the warehouse. Five men were awaiting me. I knew not what they had been told. The same leering expressions met my study of their faces. Strangely enough, I felt no fear. Some were seated on boxes, and others leaned against the walls of the structure.
“When I smiled at them, instead of screaming, they all came toward me with their own disgusting smiles. They put hands upon my body, and did not care where they touched. They treated me as if I were some prize they had won. One man ripped my bodice, and another tore open my dress. Two men pushed me to the center of the floor, and down to the rough planking.
“They laughed and smiled their malicious intent, fondling what they wished.”
Mordon ground his teeth, and gripped the edge of the solid table with such force it vibrated with the strain. Even in the dark, he sensed Simper looking his direction. Her story was already making him feel as if he would explode from anger. If she even thought he loved her, she must also know of the pain the story was causing. Mordon shook himself like a dog discarding water. The intense motion allowed him to keep listening without destroying the interior of the shack in frustration.
“They each took hold of an arm or leg, freeing one to untie his pants. Then the man between my legs laughed, and moved as if to penetrate me.”
“I jerked my right foot free, causing its holder to topple over backwards. I pulled my knee to my chest, and drove my foot into the man’s head nearly above me: the bones of his neck gave off a pleasant sound as they crushed one another. The man on my right sought to drive his fist into my face, but it wasn’t there when his dirty fist struck the solid planking of the floor. The bones of his hand splintered, protruding from his fingers as white daggers.”
“My free foot found the man’s jaw that was holding my left leg: he screamed as his jaw bone was crushed. Nearly at the same time, the stiff fingers of my right hand found the eyes of the only one still trying to hold me. I tore them from their sockets and ripped them lose.”
“The only man left was cringing in a corner, whimpering like a child. Without feeling, I went to each struggling man, and crushed their throat with a single bare hand. When I finally came to the man in the corner he had soiled his pants: even the scent of his fear came to my senses.”
“I told him to leave, and tell others of what Poltarc had taught me. I backed away, and motioned to the door with a hand. Watching him leave with such fear on his face, and his leaving pools of his waste on the planking, brought such satisfaction I fairly shook with a release of pleasure.”
“When I entered back through the door I had left, Poltarc grabbed my throat and throttled me into unconsciousness. When I awoke, I was sprawled on the floor next to the bath. Prince Sadon stood, smiling at me.”
“‘Clean yourself, woman, and return to your quarters.’
“This time, he did not linger and leer as I bathed. I was uncertain, but I thought I noted a touch of fear in his eyes as he stepped through the doorway. How long I had lain on the floor, or how I had gotten there, was beyond my ken. But I dutifully cleaned myself, and dressed with a garment from the pile in the next room.”
“Poltarc awaited me seated in one of the winged-back chairs. His smile was pleasant, and he waved me over as if I had just come for dinner. He even stood and waited for me to seat myself before speaking further.”
“‘My dear woman, you look positively ravishing. I hope your bath water was the proper temperature.’
“I nodded and smiled, it was exactly right, Sir.”
“‘No formalities here my dear, you may call me Poltarc, for that is my given name.’
“And then he looked out the window with embarrassment on his face. When his eyes met mine, he asked another strange question.
“‘Was my test to your liking? I mean, sharing death with another is something I find hard to do. There is so much pleasure in it, don’t you see?’
“He did not give me time to answer, but continued.”
“‘I must apologize for reacting the way I did with you. When you chose not to kill them all, it upset my sense of balance of right and wrong. It was wrong of you to refuse a gift when freely given by one such as myself. I know next time you will relish the gift in its entirety, and not waste pleasant sensations.’
“The man was completely mad, and I could feel myself sinking into the same quagmire in which he dwelt. He spoke of trivial things thereafter, not much different than the first evening I had spent with him. We had dinner of roasted game bird and fresh peaches. It was a delightful evening.”
“When he finished his dinner, Poltarc pushed himself back from table and stood, holding his arm out so that I might take it. We walked through the wall, and into the room in which he stayed. The area was nearly sterile of furnishings; one chair and table, looking as if they had been hewn for a much larger person, were in the corner against the wall we had traveled through. Their construction was such they indicated an entire stable of horses could have been stacked on either and not caused their collapse. The only other furnishing was a metal clad table with instruments soaking in a pink fluid. I wondered then if this was where he enjoyed dissecting his victims. The floor was spotless, as was the table. I could not detect any odor.”
“He led me to another doorway to a room filled with shining instruments I’d never seen before. Poltarc walked me to one of these instruments, and motioned for me to look down a tube. When I looked, tiny silvery machines were moving about. In surprise, I took my eye from the top and looked below the tube. An empty glass dish was all I c
ould see. I hurriedly placed my eye to the top again, and could plainly see the little machines. Then it struck me—he was showing me the machines he had placed in my body. ‘They are beautiful,’ I said to him. He smiled a beatific smile, and spoke.”
“‘You are very keen, my lady. These are the miraculous machines that give you strength. Another type constantly repairs your tissues, and mends any damage you may receive. Let me show you something of which I am quite proud.’
“He took my arm and brought me to the other end of the long table. On a clean tray, a tiny black box rest on display. I looked at it, and then at him, with what I’m certain was a confused expression. The first look of impatience spread across his face.”
“‘Yes, yes, I know you do not know what it is. How I can expect such savages to understand anything I do? It is most frustrating.’
“He noticeably calmed, and picked up another syringe, injecting my left arm. His needle pricks always caused me pain, but I dared not show the least squeamishness, or it would have meant a beating and the log. After what I had done to the men in the lean-to, I would receive no quarter with the soldiers.”
“I awoke upon the table in his room. I had no pain that I could recall. I looked to my right as I lay there, and Poltarc was dancing about like the crazy person he was. He was shouting with pure, unabated happiness. Whatever his joy, I must be the cause. He came to me and beamed down at my face, scrutinizing my left eye. Poltarc studied my eye with a magnifying lens for what seemed like eternity. He finally spoke.”
“‘I have placed the black instrument that was on the tray in your left eye. Whatever you see, I see. Look about the room so I can revel in my accomplishment.’
“Ever compliant in his presence, I did as I was told. Poltarc danced around like a court jester.”
“I sat up, feeling no less for ware, and walked into the room he said was mine. He did not follow, but I could hear him dancing about, laughing with unrepressed glee. I sat at the table and ate what fruit was there, and then went to the winged-back chair and stared out the window. Poltarc came into the room, his body radiating excitement, shouting of his brilliance. He finally came to the opposite chair and sat down.”
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