by Aimee Moore
The three men fell in behind their dangerous catch, and Mindrik and I led the mounts at the tail end of the procession, tying them on the fence where indicated.
“This is ridiculous,” I whispered to Mindrik.
“Your tiny village would have done the same in their position.”
“Absurd. He hasn't done anything. He goes willingly.”
“And he can snap their necks like toothpicks just as willingly if he chooses.”
I caught glimpses of Dal's large hands, swaying at his sides as he walked. They led him to a field behind the village, barren and covered in weeds.
“You will plow this field, and then haul water from the river to each trench,” one of the men commanded.
Dal glanced at the plow, strung into place by an intricate net of dead weeds, and let off a heavy sigh. The look on his face clearly said that this sort of work was beneath him, demoralizing even.
“Have you no horses?” I asked in exasperation.
“They eat much, and we are hungry people,” one man said with a wicked grin. I curled my lip, wondering what horse tasted like.
Dal waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, causing all of the men around him to tense. “It is fine, I shall do as they ask.”
I glanced around. “Let me help. Where are the buckets for water? And how far is the river?”
“The river is twenty minutes that way.” One of the men pointed without taking his eyes off of the Kraw that was pulling the plow free.
“Twenty minutes? Must all your citizens walk so far for water? I saw a well not three minutes that way,” I said as I gestured to the center of the village.
“Our well dries, and the beast said he would do as asked,” said another.
I huffed a sigh. “Fine then. Where are these buckets?”
Half of the men laughed. “You are not strong enough to carry them,” one said.
“I don't care, I'm not going to sit here and do nothing while Dal sweats for your amusement.”
The largest of the men crossed his arms and stood tall, looking down at me. “If you wish for a hot meal, you'll keep that whore mouth closed, or you and your wealthy friend here fend for yourselves and we keep his coin.”
Mindrik muttered something from his shady perch, crossing his arms.
I scowled up at the man. “How dare you treat me like so.”
Dal's voice cut in then, and he was in the crowd without any of us realizing it. “You will show her kindness or you will know pain,” Dal said in a dangerous tone to the man.
Swords and axes were at his chest and throat. Dal's gaze continued to burn down into the man, and the man did not cower.
On the contrary, he laughed. “You'll do nothing that you're not told, Beast. And if that means that your red-haired whore is shoved out on her ass for the night, then you'll bear it the way she bears it for this teat-sucking bag of coin,” the man said with a gesture toward Mindrik.
Dal reacted before the man had even finished his gesture. With a growl, Dal had his large hand around the man's throat, lifting him high into the air. “Human necks are fragile,” Dal said as everyone startled to action. “I wonder how much yours can bear.”
The man's face purpled as he struggled, pulling at large fingers that wouldn't budge. I realized that my hands were covering my mouth, and I removed them. The swords and axes at Dal's throat wavered, unsure of what Dal was capable of.
I knew exactly what he was capable of.
“Put your swords down,” I hissed.
No one moved.
“He will snap that man's neck as easy as he snaps a chicken bone, lower your weapons and heed his warning,” Mindrik said.
I furrowed my brow at Mindrik, and he gave me a small shrug.
Slowly, the weapons lowered, and Dal lowered the tall man to the floor with such ease that he might have been holding said chicken instead of a two-hundred-pound man. The purple left the man's face, and he choked and sputtered for air, falling to his hands and knees.
Dal stepped back, and the wary swords and axes followed. “Your weapons pose little threat to me,” he said in a quiet voice. “I come to you without threat or demands and you treat me like a prisoner of war and disrespect those of your own race. Continue to aim your hatred at me if you choose, but you will respect the two whom I travel with or you will know my hatred in return.”
The moment was tense as the tall man stood, rubbing at his neck, barely concealed anger sizzling in his eyes. The other men watched him, waiting for a cue. “Get back to work then,” he said, righting himself. “Please.”
Dal got back to his work, freeing the plow, placing it at the edge of the field, and pulling it through the dirt. My heart fluttered as I watched him pulling, muscles bunching and flexing.
“Damn Beast is stronger than two horses,” one of the men said. “There was no lie in his words.”
I rolled my eyes, turning to Mindrik. “Mindrik, we can't just sit here.”
Mindrik nodded. “Twenty minutes each way to the river is too long, they'll enslave him all day. I have an idea.” And with that, Mindrik strode in the direction of the river.
“What the bloody hell is that scrawny fool doing?”
“Helping you ungrateful lot,” I said.
Foul looks were turned toward me, but not a word was uttered. Dal had driven the point home.
I sat in the shade, watching him work for a time. Soon Dal was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, but he never uttered a single complaint.
I turned to walk toward the center of the village, when one of the men stopped me.
“Where are you going?”
“To find water for Dal.”
“Your beast cannot have our water.”
I glared. “You expect him to do your work in that cruel sun without water? Perhaps death was mercy for your horses. I’ll bring him water, and you shall not stand in my way.”
I shoved the man aside, his angry huff of a breath beating against my left side.
The well was, indeed, drying. I was having trouble finding pity for these people as I pulled a bucket of water up through depths that I didn't even know rope could be woven to. Straining to hold up the sloshing bucket of water, I marched past the men sitting in the shade and watching Dal. My feet fell into the soft turned earth that Dal had plowed, and I could hear his steady breaths as I approached.
“Dal.”
Dal stopped and turned to me. “Sera.”
I held the bucket up.
Dal gave me a smile. “You are the cool breeze on my skin, Sera.” His warm hand lingered on mine for a moment as he accepted the water. I watched him drink, nearly downing the entire content of the bucket.
“Where has Mindrik gone?” He asked when he was finished.
“I’m not sure. He mentioned something about the river and disappeared shortly thereafter.”
Dal's gaze got far off as he looked toward the river. “Let it not be said that Mindrik is without kindness,” Dal said.
I glanced back toward the back of the village where the river was supposed to be, but there was only fields butting up against tree line. I furrowed my brow at Dal.
“Trust,” he said, before turning back to his task.
I walked back to the men, who were content to ignore me, and sat for a time. Soon, Mindrik could be seen around one building, orchestrating massive amounts of water with his flowing gestures. It was diving and scooping and splashing mud all about, forcing trenches into the land. All of the men stood.
“What the hell is that fool doing?”
“He is bringing water to your barren land,” I said, watching the river water slosh into the newly dug trench.
“He means to flood our fields.”
“Or perhaps you can tell him where you would like the water to go so that they are not flooded. He is not a farmer,” I said.
Glares were cast my way, and then the men spoke amongst themselves for but a moment before two strode out to Mindrik to bark orders. I glanced behind me to see tha
t other village dwellers had gathered at the edge of the scene to watch the glistening, tattooed Kraw doing the work of two horses, while the Gifted man in robes brought water to the barren patch of land.
“What shall you plant?” I asked one of the men. Most of them shrugged.
“Up to Jaffer.”
“Which of you is Jaffer?”
I was ignored, except for one man who gestured back toward the village with his thumb. With a sigh, I got up and made my way back to the village. Like me, the women here were thin, and the children were sadly scrawny and dirty.
My need for some of their hard-sought resources would make me unwelcome. Most of the people regarded me as if I were a one-woman circus, casting wide eyes on me and moving their filthy children out of my sight. The women were especially hardened, with cold looks in their eyes that spoke of a thousand pains.
“Jaffer?” I asked a few people, and they shrunk back, unwilling to speak with me when their fellow citizens had not. I looked around at the worn cottages and thatched roof buildings that composed the town, all with large, empty flower boxes set on the floor under every window. Finally, a woman's voice rang out.
“You seek Jaffer, do you?”
I turned toward her. She was small and blond, wearing a dirty apron and a scowl. Her hands were the worn hands of a person who'd worked hard her whole life. I knew those hands.
“Yes,” I said. “I can offer knowledge of the crops that my companions are setting your field for.”
“Come with me,” she said, turning away. The villagers watched as I followed the small blonde into a nondescript cottage with more empty flower boxes.
“Oy, Jaffer,” the woman said into the darkness.
“Wut.” The voice was old and cantankerous, to a comical degree.
“This stranger is here to tell you what to do with your crop.”
“Say what?”
My eyes began to adjust to the darkness in the small cottage, and sitting in a chair in front of the coals of a dying fire was an old man under a blanket. He turned toward me, the spectacles over his eyes magnifying them like bulging insect eyes.
I stepped forward. “Hello, Jaffer. My name is Seraphine. I'm visiting your... pleasant town, and I thought to offer some help while I'm here.”
Jaffer laughed. “Pleasant? You're either blind or a liar. Where you from, girl?”
“Lambston.”
The girl perked at the mention of my home town. “Lambston you say? On the west side of the mountain, yes? Heard they was all slaughtered, they were.
“All except me.”
“How?”
“I was taken captive. Dal, the Kraw out there plowing your field, saved me.”
Jaffer laughed. “Cross species love affair, that is.”
“I beg your pardon, but that's hardly—"
“Save it for the young and the stupid, girl. I can hear the way your heart beats for that Kraw in every word you speak of him.”
I shut my mouth, wondering if I was about to be condemned or laughed at. Or both.
“How could you?” The blond girl asked me. “Give your heart to one of them? How could you let one touch you? They're the reason your town is gone. The reason we starve. They are the enemy.”
I let off a long breath. “He’s not like the warriors who come here. His kindness toward our people has labeled him a traitor to his race. I would rather fight alongside him than cower alongside my own. I have never known a man like him.”
“That's because he's not a man, he's Kraw,” Jaffer said. “Alright then, what do you have to say about the crop?”
“What used to grow there, and what are you planting next?” I asked.
“The land has changed, but you know that. Been saving for different seeds to plant, since the things we used to grow won't stand this heat.”
“Potatoes, peppers, warm weather berries, and corn should do nicely,” I tapped my finger on my lip as I thought out loud. I rattled off several more root plants that would thrive.
“Peppers? Never seen them in these parts.”
“Trade for them, they're highly nutritious. You need life back in your soil, as well. What farm animals still live?”
Jaffer gave a chuckle. “You used to be a farmer then, huh?”
“My father was a baker. I would farm in the summers for extra coin. What farm animals?”
“The only thing left that we haven't eaten is the cow, and only because it gives endless milk.”
I nodded and took a seat across from Jaffer. “We have work to do, then,” I said.
Chapter 14
Warm Bread
By the end of the hour, the heat in Jaffer's house had me sweating as much as his scrutiny. Kenni, the small blonde, escorted me outside.
“Where’d you learn all that about dirt and water?” She asked as we squinted into the sun.
The villagers passed us by without a second glance now, and we meandered over to the large crowd watching Dal and Mindrik as I spoke.
“We had a woman in my town who loved to grow things, and I spent much time with her. We made sweet mint bread for the summers.”
We stopped by the fence, watching Mindrik direct the water to carve ditches alongside Dal's work. Dal kept up a steady pace as the sun beat down on his broad back, and river water filled Mindrik's trenches as quickly as he dug them.
“Heavens, they're strong, aren't they,” Kenni said.
“Kraw?”
She nodded, never taking her eyes off of Dal.
“You have no idea.”
“Can't imagine what that's like between the sheets. Wouldn't know whether to run in terror or faint,” Kenni said. “Hard to see him as anything other than the enemy.”
I smiled. “There's definitely no terror.”
Kenni turned to me. “You're not joking? Oy then, no wonder you're so taken, a man that large has ruined you for anything else.”
I watched Dal, and whispered “You're right. No one else compares.”
“Do they marry, these Kraw? Or simply swing a woman over their shoulder and declare her their property?”
I laughed again. “I'm not really sure how that goes. I can assure you I've been tossed over that shoulder a number of times in peril and I'm quite unharmed.”
“Well then, perhaps you're a married woman and you don't know it,” Kenni said with a teasing smile.
I laughed, liking her more and more. “Do you have any flour? I'd like to make some bread. For Dal, if that's alright. He works for food and shelter for Mindrik and I, but no reward for himself.”
Kenni glared at the pack of armed men lounging in the shade. “Ah, so those cruel bastards thought to feel better about themselves by picking on your Dal, did they.”
“Dal set them straight fast. Kraw are unusually strong in many ways, and he can go much longer without food than us. I'd still like to give him something, though.”
“They'll not like him getting food when they think themselves kings of the village for bringing him in to work.”
“Maybe I can sneak it out to him.”
Kenni waved my concern away. “I'll bring it out if I have to. Jaffer says that actions speak louder than words, and Sera, your Kraw's actions are screaming good things.”
I gave her a soft smile. “Thank you.”
“Come on, let's get covered in flour, and gossip about men and Kraw,” Kenni said, leading me away.
✽✽✽
Within the hour, I was knuckle deep in fresh bread dough, and my world was calm and right as I pushed and pulled with familiar rhythmic motions. As Kenni's warm conversation bubbled over us in the setting sunlight, I couldn't help but think of Dal outside, working hard for people who would rather kill him than help him.
I thought about the way he was indifferent to their hatred, focusing on the big picture, logic and compassion being his compass to the end goal. Kenni was right, I gave my heart to a Kraw. Even now, as I pushed and pulled at the warm, elastic dough, my calm peace was punctuated by excited
heartbeats at the thought of seeing Dal's face again.
In another hour, hot loaves of bread came out of the oven, and the smell wafting off of the crunchy loaves punched me in the gut with nostalgia as I looked down at them.
A small hand was at my shoulder. “Sera? You alright?”
I gave Kenni a smile that didn't meet my eyes. “I used to bake bread in the mornings, back in Lambston. My sister and I had to do it together. We used to hate waking up for it, but once we got started, the work always calmed me. Even after she got married and I had to do it alone.
“I used to smell this every morning and I never paid attention to how wonderful it was. I was too busy planning stupid things like how to escape the day's work and what flirtatious things I could come up with to say to my intended. My world was so small then.”
Kenni looked down at the loaves with me. “When I was a little girl, we had sunflowers outside every window. It was the town theme, planted for the original founder's wife who loved them,” she said.
I furrowed my brow and tilted my head at Kenni.
“I used to get sick of the smell of sunflowers in the summer. We'd have a festival at harvest time when the dang things had finally given their seeds, and we'd make everything imaginable out of them. People would come from all of the surrounding towns for our sunflower festival, buying our sunflower breads and cakes and toffees like they were the last ones in the world.”
I watched the sadness trickle into Kenni's face, and she met my gaze.
“Funny thing, ain't it, that I'd give anything to smell those damn sunflowers again.”
I gave Kenni a sad smile. “We always miss the things we take for granted. It's what we do with the things life continues to grant us that matters.”
Kenni smiled and shook her head. “If Jaffer can get those louts outside to turn cow dung and seeds into food then I'll thank the stars for granting you and your Kraw and Mindrik to us every day thereafter.”
I laughed.
Kenni put a hand on my shoulder. “Come on, let's go piss some people off.”
But when we stepped outside, armed with fresh loaves of bread, no one was to be found. I looked up into the cloudy sky as the sun set, and a firm breeze was bearing down on the area, moisture in the air.