Then he did something unexpected.
Fuk it, but he was quick. She tried to swing but Erroh leapt from the water and she could only watch helplessly as he fell upon her. His powerful arms surrounding her in an embrace, for that is what lovers did until they gained enough nerve to kiss.
Face to face, closer than ever she felt his lips graze her own. There was no malice in his eyes. Just deep concentration and deeper sadness and she could never break free of his hold. Why would she ever want to? And then Lea felt the sudden force of pressure across her perfect chest. One last wistful look into eyes before the world changed. She was weightless and then she was flying and his eyes were with her own. They were all she could see because the rest of the world was moving too quickly. The clouds were below her and she was floating in his hold. She broke from his gaze and glanced skywards. She found it puzzling that the river was already up there and it was rushing up to meet her. He never let go of her. This was what made it worse.
They collapsed headfirst into the water. Only luck and hopeful judgement on his part prevented either of them from being knocked out. He pinned her to the bottom of the river. His slightly larger frame too much to break free. He held his breath while she lost the last of her air in one terrified scream. Fighting under his terrible weight and unyielding grapple, she lost both her weapons and tried desperately to break free. The noise of drowning was the same as before. Her screaming his name to relent and her drowning muffled pleading that she was beaten only magnified it.
Suddenly he released her from the hold and pulled her head above water before dragging her to the edge of the river where she stood in the waist high water and cried at him for a few desperate moments. In all that time, Erroh said nothing. He simply fished in the water and recovered her weapons. She refused to meet his eyes. Slowly she climbed out of the river and sat in the grass shivering. Her face grave and pale.
“Are you alright beo?” he said quietly, climbing out and tossing the weapons vaguely in the direction of her rucksack. His head was drooped in shame. Regret now evident but she didn’t care. She knew why he did it. She knew he was teaching her a cruel lesson. She knew he was teaching her the brutality he was capable of, the toughness he possessed. Now she understood the pain he had endured under Magnus’s teachings. She thought she had the upper hand in their battle but she’d never had a chance.
“Don’t call me that ever,” she hissed, before leaning over the edge of the bank and throwing up.
They left the camp in silence; following the old tracks as their new guide. She rode like a girl with a broken spirit because he didn’t have the strength of character to keep his emotions in line.
“You were amazing in that fight. You nearly had me,” he said a few hours later when the silent guilt first began to engulf him. He slowed his mount to walk alongside her. She looked across in disgust. Her eyes were bloodshot from silent tears. She kicked her mount gently and taking the hint, it broke into a canter.
Why Erroh, why did you do it? It was because of the tracks. Though it didn’t make sense, he instinctively knew. They were tracking the beasts who slaughtered innocents and those same voices inside his mind silently nodded in agreement. He wondered when it would be a good time to start making it up to her.
When they could afford to ride no further, Lea suggested they make camp. They were her first words since their fight. He took his time preparing the fire so he could form engaging words while she brushed her hair and took out the weapons. When the first spark took hold, she began her stretches and showed the true depth of will she possessed.
“Come break my heart again,” she said sadly before walking to the invisible ring and raising her sword in challenge. A few breaths later, she found herself on the ground bleeding from her beautiful lip. She brushed off any of his attempts to help her up.
His dreams were of drowning, pulled down by the little boy and his heavy armour. Erroh tried to kick free from the icy grip so he could exact revenge on those who committed the evil act. He tried to tell the clawing creature of his intentions but the child kept reaching for him regardless, dragging him deeper into the murky depths.
Lea awoke from her slumber by his thrashing and whimpering. She looked over at her beo. No, she didn’t mean to call him that. She meant to say her mate. Instinctively she reached over to touch his forehead and calm his terrors as she did most nights, but instead drew her hand back as if burned. It was nearly dawn anyway. The bitter air was freezing and her stomach groaned so she grabbed Baby and swiftly disappeared into the wilds leaving him to his nightmares. She had already begun preparing and salting the freshly killed meals when he roused himself from his restless sleep.
“We need to get you some new arrows,” he said quietly, looking at the weather worn bolts as he dressed himself and chewed on the meal left for him.
She nodded.
“Do you want some?” he said, offering some cofe that she’d freshly brewed. She nodded again and drank the black poison.
“I still have some coins from Samara, we can get some at the next town,” he proposed, drinking his own black ambrosia and wishing again that he had some milk.
She nodded a final time; kicked some dirt over the dying embers of the hidden fire and began to pack up. He took that as a sign it was time to leave. The silence they first shared as they departed Spark City had returned, and this fresh silence was worse. By the second day, he gave up trying to talk with her altogether, instead allowing the tracks to occupy his thoughts and hoping time would grant him a little grace. How long had it taken Magnus to earn Erroh’s forgiveness when he had pushed his son too far? Had Magnus ever been so cruel? Had his infamous father ever betrayed his trust like he had Lea’s? He had learned more about himself in that foolish moment than in two years of walking the road alone, and it was a lesson neither wanted to learn again. He was sorry. Fuk it. He was sorry but there were no words to offer her.
Three wet days after his terrible act, the tracks took an unexpected turn. “We’re somewhere here,” he said, running his finger along the map’s rough sketch of a river. His fingers shook and she immediately saw it too. Felt it too. There was an indentation on the parchment just east. A marking too pronounced to be mistaken for anything else. Regardless, he still asked her in the vain hope that he was mistaken.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t think it’s a stain,” she whispered, looking again at the disturbance in the ground. It was easy to imagine a scout discovering the settlement and the charge that followed. Part of her still wanted to believe they followed wandering nomads. The same part that believed in love, hope and honeyed breads. It was “a few days’ ride at most,” he muttered, as if requesting permission to pursue. She nodded as if allowing recklessness. Would he take up his blade and charge headlong into raging battle like the legend of Magnus the butcher? Or hide and observe like an outcast in the wild. She had never shed another man’s blood and a cold fear ran through her, cold like a river that, once flooded, could never be contained again.
“If we find more than we can handle, hide yourself in the green,” he said scratching his arm subconsciously. She didn’t like that distant tone.
“You meant to say, “we hide,” didn’t you?” she said scolding him.
“Aye, that’s exactly what I meant to say,” he said looking away towards the river, towards the tracks where they veered away into the green of the wastes.
“Don’t let it come to that Erroh,” she warned.
They were a lot closer to the town than they thought. By the following morning they stood side by side under cover of trees along the quiet town’s outskirts, their beasts left to graze a mile behind. They were hunters now but what exactly they hunted was in the knowledge of the gods.
Lea notched an arrow and followed Erroh, all the while ignoring the temptation to shoot him. Maybe she could shoot him just a little bit, she mused. Nothing fatal. Perhaps his rear. It would certainly be a new approach to understanding him. Growing up
she had loved to challenge herself with puzzles and riddles. She loved the eventual unlocking of answers to receive a treasured resolution. She thought she had begun to crack the enigma that was Erroh, but the passion was leaving her bit by bit. Now there was only a simple desire to understand him as her companion of the road and father to their future children. There was no great secret to unlock and it was foolish to hold on to childish thoughts of great love. Her father was cruel and he was a killer. It was his nature. She wondered had her parents believed themselves in love in the first days of their coupling as well. She knew she should have been thinking of the silent town in front of them but her thoughts were miles behind at the river. When he saved her and when he had brutalised her. She would never forget the fury in his eyes and oh, that betrayal of trust. She knew she would never look upon him the way Mea looked upon Jeroen. She knew she had made the wrong choice in the Cull.
It felt eerily familiar creeping around the perimeter of a suspiciously quiet settlement searching for any signs of life. The town was nothing more than a handful of two story buildings, worn, aged, and tended with love; a few paths of damp mud leading up to an old mill with patches of various crops planted throughout. A little nothing place, in the middle of nowhere and an oasis to any passing traveller. This charming town felt inviting and were it not for the two large messages painted sloppily upon one of the tavern’s wall, Erroh and Lea would have immediately felt welcome.
“The tainted flee from the flame.”
“Uden the Woodin man sees all.”
Both Alphas finished the circle and sat in cover. There was no crimson river of blood, no scorch marks, nor any pile of horrible ash to be found. No females had burned here; there had been no attack. Erroh quietly thanked the gods. It wasn’t a prayer, merely a nod of gratitude. The flapping of long dried clothing in the early morning wind was the only sound that reached their ears. It sounded like complete isolation. The town was abandoned. He sat and watched the world for movement. She sat behind him clutching Baby tightly. There was plenty of light left in the day and the town was going nowhere.
Her heart beat louder than normal. A wild unsteady rhythm and her stomach churned bile. His hands shook a little, he flexed them a few times, and they became still. Her eyes fought anxious tears while his eyes blinked sparingly, darting from shack to shack, and corner-to-corner looking for movement. Despite the clear day, there was a bite in the air. The world was still and she had something important to tell Erroh, so she decided to say it. “I’ve been thinking about us,” she whispered and heard him sigh loudly.
It would be testament to the type of man he was, in the reaction he gave. Not that she really cared anymore. “I know you’ll take me to bed,” she whispered evenly, but there was a terrible sadness she couldn’t conceal, the type of sadness of a girl who’d had her hopes crushed unexpectedly. “I know it’s part of what our communion is,” she said in that same heartbreakingly tone.
“Do we need to talk about this right now?” he whispered back just as his eye caught the movement of a small patch of dense thicket along the outskirts. He held his breath. Just the wind gusting. A small brown cat strolled down by one of the side streets. At the corner of the mill, it stopped and licked its paw for a little while. It seemed perfectly at ease. Erroh took this as a good omen.
“I won’t resist you. When you call upon me, I will lie with you. I will moan and do as you please and I will offer no last kiss,” she whispered coldly.
“Aye,” he replied.
The cat stretched leisurely, hopped up on a barrel, and sprawled out and Erroh began to relax. The Riders had certainly been through this way but it was unlikely there was a den of ambushing murderers lying in wait.
“Know this Erroh, I will never take a moment’s pleasure from your touch,” she whispered though it sounded more like a curse.
He opened his mouth to speak but fell silent. He dropped his head in shame and counted a few times in his head. “I’m going to announce myself to the village. If anyone comes attacking, put an arrow between their eyes,” he whispered in reply and with that, he crept away from her damning words.
Nomi
Her name was Nomi and she was popular with her people, so popular she was rarely left wanting, despite her failings. Perhaps it was her knotted blonde hair and her kind smile which earned her favour. Her voluptuous chest and appealing walk probably didn’t hurt that much either. She was delicate and graceful but anyone who knew her knew of her strength. Such things were desired among her pack. She was no more than two decades old yet she felt far older. Maybe it was just this morning’s march which made her feel so worn. In truth, she thought it more likely it was the previous night’s activities: her duties in wartime, so to speak.
She walked with a slight limp along the riverbank beneath the shade of tall trees. Her shoulders slumped as she dragged her awkward war hammer behind her. In most warriors’ hands, it would be a brutish, brutal weapon for easy bludgeoning, but in her calloused hands, she wielded it gracefully enough. She kicked a stone into the water and sighed loudly. She liked walking alone without the weight of animal fur and leather weighing her down. It allowed her to think of deeper things like her god and her faith and the loss of those she cared for. Easier to allow a few tears to be shed in the silence of these woods, than in the arms of a caring man right after furrowing.
“Too warm,” she whispered to herself and wondered if any of her comrades would hear. It was unlikely; she was at least a mile from the rest of the finger. It was just little old Nomi on her little trek, scouting the river’s way for the rest to follow. No, not alone. Oren wasn’t too far away, she imagined. She rubbed her belly and thought about the previous night. Oren was a big man with thick muscular arms and powerful hands, which favoured gripping her rear as he thrust himself into her. Perhaps her rear was another reason she was so popular. Allowing him and any others their additional fun with unnecessary appendages was hardly the behaviour of a good little southern girl but still, it was all about duty and attaining the eye of a strong buck. How many times had Oren alone taken her to bed this march? One might say more than enough. She rubbed her belly once more and cursed its emptiness before sitting down along the river’s edge.
“Too warm,” she muttered again and began to undress. There was barely a breeze and her body was covered in a thin layer of sweat, grime and his touch. It didn’t really matter but perhaps if another came to her bed this night, they may prefer a cleaner flavour of bed mate. So she would bathe to please them until she had no further need. Needs and duties were a fine thing, even if she was becoming a little tired of the tedium of repetition.
She dipped her feet into the water and its warmth was still a pleasant surprise. The flow took her and she pulled her blouse free and left it at her side. She heard the breaking of branches behind her and continued to undress. Of course, her nakedness was bound to bring Oren running for a grope. It was inappropriate to lie with a man two nights in a row. His seed was weak unless given enough time. Still though, Oren was their leader and who was she to say no? Oren wasn’t the worst. She just wanted a little Nomi-time was all.
She slipped her dress free of her shapely thighs, honed by marching, before dropping her club in some long grass and diving into the chest high water. Thoughts of home filled her mind as the water rushed past her ears. She fought the pull and glided as though she were a lutefish spawned for tepid temperatures. She exhaled slowly, kicked herself into an easy stroke, and surged forward swiftly. She couldn’t swim like this back home. The frozen rivers were for quick bathing expeditions alone.
“Warm,” she cried deliriously, rising for air before meeting the gaze of three young men emerging from the cover of the undergrowth. Her solitary morning was ruined by the sudden threat. Three outsiders with leering eyes. Enjoying her.
This was bad.
It was worse than that.
The current caught her but she stood up out of the water. Her breasts shimmered in the blazing sun but she too
k little notice of their staring from their place a dozen feet or so away. She took a breath and swallowed the fright. Three strange brutes dressed in foreign clothing with foreign faces and foreign tongues. Tongues she imagined that would like to lick the wet from her skin.
Oren would never allow that and neither would she.
One of them stepped forward. His hair was red and his skin was freckled and pale. Like the rest, he carried a hunting pole and he chuckled at her making no effort to conceal herself. He called to her. Each incomprehensible word laced with humour and pleasantness but Nomi could only think that he spoke too loud, yet she dared not sway closer, to hear him clearer above the purr of the river’s flow. She looked to the evergreen beyond and wondered was Oren near? He’d ridden on ahead along a barely used path while she had followed the route of the water. If he could hear them, he would kill them without a moment’s hesitation. That was his way in wartime and in truth, if they aimed to do her any misdeeds, it was fair.
“You leave me,” she hissed above the water’s cry. It was both a threat and plea. They smiled. One of them bowed and their eyes did not blink. Their clothing was not worn like any group of wandering nomads she knew of. They were darned and cared for. Clean and new. These men were from a nearby village she imagined, and fresh fears stirred inside her. A few mantras played upon her lips, but she remained still. This was no time to be thinking of her god. This was time to be questioning her god, just as her sister had. Fear was replaced by deep sorrow for the swiftest moments and she pushed it away along with her sacrilege, like a good little southern girl. In her god, she trusted.
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