Spark City

by Robert J Power

  “Leave me now,” she hissed desperately, as one of them with long brown hair and matching beard, lanced some of her garments with his hunting pole and walked along the riverbank. He held them out over the water and waved them enticingly in front of her. He suggested something in his crude barbaric language and beckoned the naked girl come to his call and recover her decency.

  Laughter.

  They were too loud and she feared for them and for herself. If they attacked her now, there was little she could do. If she could reach her club, she could fend them off but not for long. She was no great warrior. She couldn’t even become set with child. She swam towards the edge and reached for the treasure but skilfully, as if teasing a biting cub, he whipped the garments from her reach and she stumbled in the current.

  More laughter.

  She cursed their jests and despite herself reached for the garment a second time with the same result.

  “Tainted curs,” she screamed and swam from her clothing towards her club.

  They cheered and enjoyed her complete shame as she leapt out of the water into the long grass. She grabbed the club and raised it menacingly and to her surprise, they took a step back. The third man was far younger than his two companions were and he grabbed the arm of the clothes bearer. He offered a few kind sounding nothings and the clothes were thrown to her feet.

  She made no move; instead, she listened to the forest and the gentle crashing beyond. Oren had heard.

  “Too loud,” she whispered, and they failed to understand. The youngest hunter smiled and bowed, as did the red headed man. They spoke loudly and Nomi could discern their apologetic tones. After a while, they even drew their eyes from her naked skin.

  Very popular in wartime.

  “Run,” she hissed and they smiled.

  She swung her club weakly and they leapt away. “Run from here,” she cried out. Still they smiled and added further apologies to their gibberish, and the crashing suddenly grew loud and they finally noticed it and Nomi wanted to scream.

  Oren charged through a break in the trees upon his warhorse further up along the river. He roared and raced down towards the three men who now swiftly learned their folly. They spread out and walked towards the charging Oren holding their arms up in a display of contrition and peace making. “It was just a little fun. You are a lucky man. She will likely grant you many heirs.”

  If that’s what they called out to the rushing man, he didn’t understand them. It wouldn’t have made a difference anyway. Oren pulled a long sword from his waist and still the fools had no idea that there would simply be no discussion. In the last terrible moments of the redheaded man’s life, he screamed desperately as the horse suddenly swerved his way and ran him down. She heard the heavy crunching and knew they were all doomed.

  She had tried.

  So she did what she should have done when first she’d picked up her club. She charged towards the closest of the shocked brutes and swung the club against the back of his head. It was a hollow crack and the man fell to his knees as if in prayer. He croaked and she fought the urge to throw up. This was how it was. She struck him again as Oren leapt from his horse and crashed down upon the last foreigner, stabbing the blade into flesh as he did. They struggled for a few breaths, but soon enough the body went still. She stepped behind the man praying as the life left his body and struck him fiercely and he collapsed in the grass.

  “Again,” Oren called and she nodded before striking again. His failing body shuddered and she struck again ending his life. Once more and his head became little more than mush and hair. The grisly task was done.

  “Silly Nomi,” Oren said shaking his head though he was not angry. He recovered her clothes and sniggered to himself at her nakedness.

  “That desperate for a child you lure three of the enemy?” he mocked and pulled a dagger from his waist before slitting the throat of the crawling redheaded man as though it was a small thing. Her blood-covered hands were shaking and she noticed the dead man’s blood was all over her. To kill was a terrible thing but to die was probably worse. To give birth was the saving grace. It was duty, for this was war, as their god had decreed.

  “I need to wash again,” she muttered.

  Cathbar

  Erroh walked tentatively, each step far louder than he would have hoped. His eyes never left the window in the nearest two story building. That’s exactly where he would wait in an ambush. He hoped Lea thought the same way. They’d discussed tactics many times, over food and cofe in the good old days when she thought more of him as a mate, but in such a short time how much had she taken in? Could he trust that she would not hesitate to save his life? He shook that thought immediately. Of course he could trust her. She was a better person than he, and her stinging words laced with gentle desolation showed her true strength of character. If only he was capable of finding words that could soothe her hurt.

  Deep down she knew he would not take advantage just yet. He would wait at least a week and then climb atop her. She would stare into his eyes and let him and that would be that. She wouldn’t be afraid any more. Why not flee back to Samara, she asked herself for the umpteenth time? It was a fine question with probably a damning response. This life out here in the wastes with her brute was a better one than the lonely grey walls of Samara. Besides, she was stronger than her mother was. She would learn to control him if needs be.

  This was no male’s world.

  Any half-decent tracker would see the confusion of the cavalry in the muddy ground. Deeply indented hoofmarks had circled the outskirts, while heavy boots had marched right through the centre of the village without stopping. The temptation to leave a message behind was just too much to bear it would appear. He signalled Lea to follow and she did so in silence.

  They went from building to building with blades raised but there was little to suggest recent occupancy. The smell of spoilt food was in every home. They moved quietly, two skulking apparitions stalking each room with lonely efficiency. The residents had simply packed up and left. Perhaps it was a plague or sudden mass hysteria. Perhaps they learned of a roving army nearing, and attempted to reach the city. Perhaps Erroh and Lea had simply missed them, as they passed, no more than a valley apart. For whatever reason they left, there was now an entire town to play in, with maps to locate and trinkets to claim. They could continue tracking the Riders tomorrow. Tonight they could relax a little and besides, he had been given permission to take a female against her will for his evening’s entertainment. May as well take her in a comfortable room.

  Erroh’s new armour was bulkier than his old piece but the metal was tough, with each plate hidden underneath the leather covering. He thought about offering the piece to Lea but it was a little heavy and it wouldn’t bring out her eyes. He sat in the upper level of the first old building: the fine ambush spot he had identified earlier, should any unwanted bandits come knocking. He could smell the musty odour of damp and many years of occupants but it felt as though this had been a happy place. In the bedroom where he sat, the walls were adorned with decorations, the drawers neatly filled with simple garments of toil and a little side room beyond held a child’s bed with walls painted in bright pink. Aye, this had been a happy home before it was abandoned. Glancing out through a curtain covering the little gap, he watched the wind’s invisible hand carry rain around the settlement. Each powerful gust sent wave after wave of icy cold water crashing wonderfully against their shelter but the warmth within remained. It was almost enough to shake the terrible feeling he had about this town. Instead of dwelling on such things, he continued stirring the stew. He was no fan of stew but there were plenty of vegetables at close hand and they both needed a break from flame-cooked meat. If only for a few nights. He added salt. He didn’t taste it first; it just needed salt. He tapped at the cork of the unopened bottle of sine and inhaled. The foolish previous owner had believed that stashing the bottle in a bag of potatoes would protect it. The foolish previous owner had not planned on trying to decei
ve Erroh, a true alcohol hunter. Her footsteps on the stairs below suddenly grabbed his attention. The creaks on the stairs were slow and methodical as if taken by a lamb led to slaughter. The whistle of the gusting wind played a calming song and hearing the melody he added another log before leaning back in an oversized brown couch. The thickly stuffed piece was impossibly comfortable and unfathomably old. Strange that some things like this survived the fires while great metal beasts were burned to charcoal. It was also strange to feel so comfortable on a night like this. Lea walked into the room and dropped the new arrows in the corner beside Baby. Her hair was sopping wet after being caught in the beginnings of the downpour.

  “We’re not sparring tonight are we?” she asked quietly while looking out at the storm.

  Aye my dear, but not with swords.

  He shook his head.

  Darkness began to spread out across the land. The fire under which the cauldron hung was warming up the room nicely. “I think we can take one night off,” he said contentedly adding some more salt.

  Watching the rain, she both felt relief and nausea. She took a freshly liberated blanket and hung it across the window blocking out any stray gusts daring to venture inside. She removed her armour and tossed it by the bed. It was a big bed, suitable for two. She sat down by the fire and let its soothing warmth dry her off. She tasted the brew and added a little salt.

  “Those painted words are unsettling,” she said.

  He nodded in agreement.

  “They didn’t even stop to ransack this place,” she said.

  He nodded in agreement.

  “An open town with fine plunder and no resistance,” she said.

  “They just kept on moving through,” he said after a few breaths. He ate his stew and stared vacantly as though the weight of the Four Factions of the world were on his shoulders. It was strange that there were still moments when she forgot the depths of his cruelty. She resisted the urge to ask him what his thoughts were.

  His mind was awash with discouraging notions. He was a better man than she believed. He was sure of it but he was tragically inept when it came to sentiment. He had been wrong and he knew that now. She had to see that on his face. Wasn’t that enough?

  She sniffed unpleasantly as he filled her glass. She met his eyes but mercifully said nothing.

  He thought about what she had said at the edge of the town and he felt ashamed. He thought about her screams as he trapped her under the water. She was right not to trust him. His father had probably faced the same difficulties. Possibly more but he was not his father. He clinked her glass and said the wrong thing again. Humour was all that he had.

  “You’ll need that for later,” he joked softly and gestured at the bed.

  She nodded and poured the contents down her throat and grimaced in silent defiance. Her face was pale but she was beautiful and she needed to be put out of her misery. He reached out and ran his fingers through her long black hair. She did not shudder or recoil from his touch. He leaned down onto the floor where she sat and stared into her beautiful dark eyes and whispered his words into her ear. It was such a lovely ear. “I want you so much my beo.”

  She tensed but nodded her head slowly.

  “I promise you,” he whispered holding her nervous face in both his hands. She looked petrified. “I’m not going to touch you,” he whispered and she looked a little less terrified.

  He smiled and she hated him.

  “I give you my word Lea that I’ll never take you to my bed, until you want me,” he said.

  “And if I never want you?” she warned coldly.

  He shrugged and lay down beside her in the warmth of the fire. “In all my life I’ve only made one oath. Now I make another. I will never hurt you again,” he said and she almost believed him. Almost, but not quite.

  “What happened at the river was shameful. I was not myself, though it was no excuse. It was the behaviour of a scared cub with no idea how to control his emotions. I’m so very sorry my beo,” he said.

  She wished he wouldn’t call her that.

  “It’s easy to say that now, Erroh,” she hissed, her previous fear and melancholy replaced with growing confidence and perhaps careful anger. “Stop calling me that as well,” she added under her breath. Then she spoke a little more.

  She spoke of his betrayal in the river, his act of cruelty, and he accepted her condemnation of his honour without argument. When she recalled the horrors, he forced himself not to look away in shame and when she asked why he did it, he told her.

  He spoke once more of the horrors of the town and left nothing out. He relived the grisly discoveries and the nightmares and then he spoke of the wandering bandits. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he did. Not just for sadness but for the release of his last few demons. Her gentle sparring of words had driven the cruellest act from him. A terrible attempt at displaying the true extent of what his father had put him through. However, Magnus was older, wiser, and a little more vicious, but he was a better teacher. She looked at him, through him and accepted his apology but was loathe to forgive or forget. Then he told her he had never expected to fall in love with her.

  She hadn’t expected that.

  She hadn’t said anything and the only sound in the room was the gentle crackle of the warm fire and the calling wail of the rainstorm.

  “You said you’d only made one oath before, what was it?” she asked after a time, her thoughts spinning anew, yet more settled than before.

  “Vengeance for the boy.”

  “It’s a good oath,” she said after a moment’s pause.

  “And my second oath?” he asked.

  “That’s a good oath too,” she whispered.

  A stray gust of wind blew at the blanket; a few isolated raindrops crossed the threshold. Lea could not help but hug her arms tightly and move closer to the fire. “It would have been a little awkward under your cloak tonight,” she said, listening to the gentle tapping of the rain hitting the old slate above them. “Good oaths,” she repeated to herself. “So we are hunting them?” she asked him.

  “The Riders?”

  “You’re going to kill them all?” she asked.

  “I’m going to kill them all,” he said with steel in his voice. He could never know how great a lie that was to become though.

  “Are you training me to be a killer?” she asked.

  “Aye, but I have little intention of putting you in harm’s way,” he admitted. He could never know how great a lie that was to become either.

  “Except in rivers?” she muttered bitterly. He nodded pitifully and it meant little. Fuk him, she wasn’t ready to let things rest as they were just yet.

  “Are we still heading to Conlon?” she asked. Were they still not the Primary’s royal messengers?

  He nodded. “If the tracks are just innocent travellers, we’ll ride through to Conlon and then on home,” he whispered.

  “And your oath of vengeance?” she asked.

  “Can wait until I have spoken with Magnus,” he answered quickly.

  “It wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a small army to call upon,” she admitted and they both smiled.

  Erroh stood and stripped off his clothes, leaving one garment to cover his decency. He dropped onto the bed and stretched out wonderfully. She noticed he had left a deliberate space in the straw for her if she felt inclined. Instead, she listened to the rain a little longer and sipped on her beverage. After a long enough time that he was sleeping, she quietly removed most of her own clothes and climbed into the straw beside him. He stirred slightly and instinctively draped the blanket over her before rolling away from her. Nice touch Erroh. She had been tempted to seek rest in another room or building but if there was a chance of reconciliation, she would have to offer some neutral ground. She loathed him but his words had been genuine, which was something. Her own father would never have offered anything as powerful as an oath to anyone. Her mate had surprised her once again. He stirred a few times and moaned a few sobs i
n his sleep. She turned her back from him and hugged the warm blanket and sleep soon found her.

  When Lea woke first, she felt completely disorientated. She also felt warm and safe. Her head was nestled against his chest again while he was in a deep, peaceful sleep. Somehow, through obviously no fault of her own, her body had become intertwined with his in a lovers’ embrace and she noticed that not all of his body parts were completely at rest either. She slipped away from him as gently as she could. After a stolen glance at his lap, she covered the blanket back over him and climbed out of the bed. Not yet, she thought to herself. She wasn’t ready to forgive him after one night of smooth talking.

  It was well past dawn but the sky was doing its best to convince the world otherwise. The rain never let up. She stuck her head out through the window and let the fresh breeze brush up against her face. She didn’t realise how much she’d missed the comforts of a roof, a bed, and the suggestion of civilisation. She wanted more than anything else in the world to have one more day in the silent town. She brewed some cofe, walked down to the street, and darted across to the wooden building opposite where she fed some apples to the horses in the stables and brushed them down. She closed her eyes and thought of a life with Erroh in such a place and she wasn’t sure how she felt.

  “Another day would be fine,” he agreed when she broached the subject. He looked as though he would agree with anything she suggested.

  They took great pleasure in rummaging through each shack for a second time. It was a fine waste to the breezy damp morning. He left some little bags of pieces he found for the next traveller, much to her dismay, while focusing on more practical things, like heavy leather boots for the south, a new cloak for her and sturdier saddles for a smoother ride. She squeaked louder than usual when she found a large supply of differently salted and spiced meats in a locked larder. He loved the unabashed excited sounds of someone who wasn’t used to receiving gifts or scavenging treasures as she smashed the lock with a sturdy kick and discovered her spoils within.