She deserved the comfort of possessing the blade.
He would allow her to keep it for now.
The sun by this time had risen far above the horizon, but the air around them was still cool. A slight breeze chilled Sera and she began to shiver. Noticing her discomfort, the knight picked up the blanket that was lying beside him and stumbled toward her, still weak from his trauma. Sera sprang to her feet, nearly losing balance herself. She held the dagger with two hands and pointed it at him. He stalled, no closer than several feet from her, and dropped the blanket.
He warily backed away, hands outspread, keenly aware that this woman who had shown him nothing but good will, could possibly and rightfully be the source of his demise. He had lived through too much to allow his downfall to be at the hands of a lovely stranger. For the moment it would be best to stay at a distance.
During the remainder of daylight, they sat facing, eyeing each other, a piteous pair of wounded foes, each ignorant to the other’s purpose. Neither of them was well enough to move, but leery enough to forego rest. Finally, the knight rose unsteadily to his feet, staggered a bit, but found his composure almost immediately.
It was unsettling to Sera that he was regaining some of his strength, for as long as he remained physically weakened, her chances of protecting herself were greater. She worriedly watched as he made his way to the water. When he returned a short time later, he appeared slightly revitalized and clean and still wet from his bath. Sera’s eyes followed the droplets of water that dripped from his wet hair, and streamed down his half naked torso, as he stood in front of her. His nearness made Sera nervous, so she fretfully pushed to a stand and once again raised the dagger. He extended his arm and offered her a drink from the decanter he was holding, but Sera refused it by shaking her head. The knight recapped his flask and tossed it toward her. It landed at her feet. He stood watching her for a moment, realizing her reluctance was likely due to her fear of him. Sera glanced at the container then returned her attention to him. Slowly she bent to pick it up. He nodded and smiled slightly. Then he turned his back toward her and went to his horse, offering her a fragment of trust that she would not try to stab him.
The charger had taken to some berries and was now refreshed with water and nourishment. It bobbed its head and neighed playfully as the stranger patted its snout, and brushed it gently. He then occupied himself with repositioning the saddle, as well as the bulk of his supplies and weapons cast upon the ground when the woman removed the saddle.
He noticed the sack was missing.
After a brief search he discovered it in some nearby shrubbery. He picked it up and examined it. The hook was unlatched and the seal was broken. He knew immediately that she bared witness to what was inside.
She could not possibly understand the meaning of this.
He returned to the charger and replaced the sack on the horse’s pommel after wrapping it tightly with rope, a satisfactory attempt to avert the stench. He then turned toward her and wondered what she must think of him.
Sera was preparing to speak to him, carefully rehearsing her interpretation to ensure the words she used were correctly translated into his language. There was no room for error. But her plan had just taken a drastic turn for the worse. He was examining the woven bag that Sera tossed away after she viewed its contents. Now, he was looking at her, aware that she knew of his crime. From her sitting position, she watched him reach back, remove his bow from its clip, and an arrow from his quiver. When he placed the arrow in the bow and aimed it in her direction, the terror in Sera escalated. He could overthrow her with one shot of an arrow, and without ever actually touching her. Sera felt like the ultimate fool. Her life was about to end. He was going to kill her now. It had been a nice life she decided to presume. Sera said a little prayer and hoped he wasn’t a cannibal too.
Perhaps, if she returned the dagger, he would show her mercy.
This seemed unlikely.
Be that as it may, it really did not matter at this point for he plainly held the upper hand. She could attempt to run, but the thought of an arrow in her back certainly was no more appealing than one through her chest. She knew that death would come more swiftly if the arrow pierced her heart rather than a lung, which might collapse, leaving her writhing in pain. Before she could react with any plan however, he rapidly drew back the bowstring and released it.
Sera screamed, covering her head with her hands.
The arrow whirred by her.
With disbelief she looked up, amazed that he missed her. He came toward her. She sprang to her feet and raised the dagger, ready to defend herself, but the warrior merely passed her by, his attention fixed elsewhere. Completely confused, Sera wheeled around to see where he had gone. The stranger was crouched over a small animal, dead from the arrow that pierced its neck. It looked like an oversized rodent with a pink tail and elongated nose. Its fur had a yellowish hue.
The knight plucked the arrow and picked up the animal, dangling it by its hind feet. He faced Sera. Her grip tightened on the dagger.
"I require my dagger if we are to eat." His voice was concise. His palm was open toward her, as if he expected that she would surrender the weapon. When she hesitated, he shook his head, and tossed the animal on top of the boulder to his right.
"Then you will clean the beast, and we will eat."
Sera’s eyes swept from the creature to the dagger in her hand. The blade was her only source of defense, but it was true that the animal needed to be gutted. She was uncertain as to what she should do. He could have maimed her with the arrow as easily as he killed that animal. It was quite obvious he was capable of this, if that was what he wished to do. What use would the dagger be to her then? Moreover, Sera did not want to gut the creature, although she would if she was forced, but that was by no means, very appetizing.
Knowing that this went against all of her training and could possibly be her gravest act of insanity, she reluctantly turned the dagger, handle side toward him. She could see the headlines now. "Military explorer goes numb in the brain after crashing her craft into the dirt."
He moved closer to her. Sera’s heart pounded and her hand began to shake as he reached for the blade. In one swift motion he grabbed her wrists, shackling her with his large hands. Sera pulled back furiously. Then she tried to kick him.
It was like kicking a rock.
Nonetheless, she continued her effort to free herself, but she could not match his size or his strength. Outmaneuvering him was impossible, and the blade was pointed in the wrong direction. Sera dropped to her knees and he too, dropped with her. The dagger slipped from her grasp.
"Pos sas lene," he whispered softly. She said nothing, but continued to struggle.
Finally realizing that her actions were futile, Sera went limp, sinking further to the ground, her head dropping. Her energy was depleted. Her resistance fled. Whatever his intentions, so be it. How half-witted of her to think she could trust him. This savage had no honest intentions. Sera was angry, deceived, and so terribly afraid of him.
"Your name?" he repeated, his tone still gentle. Sera looked up. What was her name? Yes, she knew at least her first name.
"Sera," she answered between panting breaths.
Was this all he wanted? Why would he use such a forceful manner to solicit such simple information?
All he needed to do was ask.
No, it was a tactic to disarm her. That was his aim when he grabbed her. He probably thought she was going to stab him.
Maybe she would have.
"Sera," he repeated. His voice was low and beckoning. A shiver coursed through Sera’s spine. She shook the feeling away.
He released one of her arms to brush back a loose strand of her hair. Sera seized the opportunity and her hand flew to the dagger. With one turn of his foot, the sole of his boot flattened her hand, applying just enough pressure to immobilize it. He reached and grasped the handle of the blade, easing his boot enough for Sera to lift her palm from it. If she
attempted to grab it now, one yank by him, and the sharp edge would slice her skin.
Sera stared at him. He caught sight of the purplish swelling on her forehead, and furled his brow attempting to recall the details of his transgression with her.
"You are injured." He sheathed the dagger and then gently ran his fingers along the bruised abrasions. "I did this?"
"No, but you were still the cause of it." Sera winced at his touch. Her eyes misted but she fought back the tears, releasing a single, stinging droplet that traced a path along her temple, anointing the scrapes on the side of her face. "When I ran from you."
Sera paused and took a deep breath, attempting to regain her composure. She did not want him to know how vulnerable she felt. She then defiantly stated, in her own language of course--no sense in provoking him, "You’re a loathsome barbarian. I should have let you die. I’m going kill you when I get the chance."
"Dialektos i Gaia." He released his other hand from her, held her at the shoulders, and stared at her steadfastly. "You speak the language of the Origins."
He pulled back from her slightly and studied her further, his eyes roaming her face. He inhaled sharply. "It is, as I had thought."
She had no idea what he meant, but at least she was free from his grasp. She did not move however. Sera was captivated by his closed lip smile that beamed with satisfaction. She desperately wanted to despise him for forcing her surrender, but the charming expression on his handsome, rugged face obscured the images of cruelty that she had been steadily gathering.
"Forgive me Sera. I meant you no harm." He moved his hands to cradle her head, intending on drawing her close, but then he noticed the discrepancy in the size of her pupils, one was larger than the other. He ran his fingers over the top of her head until he reached the lump in her scalp where she hit her head in the crash.
"The injury affects your alertness." He probed further. "Your skull is intact."
The pressure he applied to the swelled knot caused a surge of nausea and dizziness that consumed Sera. She swayed and then her body fell against him. It had been a valiant effort, but Sera could no longer maintain her stamina. He accepted her full weight on him.
"I need a nap." Sera reached for the ground.
He lowered her slowly. "Then have it. I will watch over you."
"Oh that’s reassuring," Sera mumbled. She rolled to her side and closed her eyes.
So much for military strategy.
He sat next to her, and watch her, he did. Her skin looked soft and tanned, complimenting her hair, a brown so dark it was nearly black. The clip that held it in a twisted bundle at the nape of her neck had loosened, revealing wavy locks that stretched to just below her shoulder blades. It shimmered with a satiny luster where sunlight danced on it. Layers of it fell across her face and gently kissed her full, peachy lips.
Would those lips taste as sweet as they looked?
In time he would know this and more, now that he could relinquish his oath. He reclined to his side and propped his head with his hand. He continued to visually explore her. She was quite exquisite, physically fit. Her clothes were precise on her body, revealing gentle curves and round but not large breasts. He watched them move up and down steadily as she breathed. At the moment her jacket lay slightly opened. He was tempted to lift it for a quick peek. He had caught a glimpse of the tops of her breasts, the rise before, when she bent to pick up her overcoat. He would have feasted his eyes longer on them if his blasted eyes would have stayed in focus. He had also seen the thin piece of cloth she wore beneath, how her breasts rolled and the nipples pushed through the material when she stretched her arms to slip the coat on. It was nearly transparent, or should have been, the way it hugged those delicious looking mounds of hers. He cringed as a fleeting picture of what he tried to do to her passed through his mind. He had attempted to force his way with her, albeit he was hallucinating at the time. Still, his actions were not a circumstance favorable for a good beginning. He would have to earn her favor. Sera was the progeny of Gaia, the Ptino asteri of the Edict. She had been sent to him. It was fated that they be together.
Chapter Two
Sera awoke with a start. It was dark. He left her sleeping on the ground and had begun to prepare the meal. She moved to sit at the fire opposite him, devoid of thoughts, her face expressionless. The pain that hammered inside of her head continued to nag at her, although her thoughts were less disorganized.
The meat was tender, and tore easily from the bone. He ate ravenously. It had been many rises--days, since he had consumed such a fill as this. Only a few berries had touched his palate. His injury deprived him of the capacity to seek more sustenance, and the lack of water had weakened him further. It was because of Sera that he was able to enjoy this feast now. He was grateful to her and rued the actions, which guided her mistrust and ire of him. He would remedy that, find a way to show her that he was honorable.
"You must eat Sera, or you will be weak for our journey." He held out his hand and offered her a piece of the meat.
Sera turned her head away. She was annoyed, at him because of how effortlessly he gained control over her, and at herself for being in such a vulnerable situation. She should have made him her hostage when she had the chance. She should have tied him up. She should have taken his horse, used his supplies for survival, and waited patiently for rescue.
Should have, would have, could have. Blah, blah, blah. It didn’t matter now. Sera felt fainthearted and defeated.
Accompany him on his journey? This, she should not do. If she left the area, her rescuers would not be able to find her. Surely they had been tracking her ship. Sera looked toward the sky, then back toward him. As she studied him, she became aware of a peculiar, unfounded need to be at his side.
"Your belligerence will not serve you well. Be incensed with me if you must, but survive for your own sake."
Sera twisted her mouth. It was watering. She was hungry. It made no sense to starve herself. She moved toward him and accepted the meat. She sat no more than a couple of feet away from him, momentarily forgetting her rancor, only to realize that her anger was suppressing her fright. Not a good thing. Predators can smell fear.
He could smell her fear, though she courageously sat near him. He supposed it was justified. Even sitting he towered over her by more than a head. She was not built like the female warriors he was accustomed to, large in frame and muscular like a male, and easy to charge without damaging. Sera was feminine and pleasing to the eye, but she was brave and fierce, a woman not to be underestimated. She would have to summon that ferocity within the next few rises, and he would do nothing to prevent it. He could only wish that her satiny smooth skin would not be marred too severely in the Challenge. He suspected it would be a brutal one. Scars would matter not to him. He would revere in them as a measure of both her outer and inner strength. The Marks of Permanence anywhere on her body would be cherished. He had no doubt she would survive. If she were truly disfigured however, it would likely intensify her anger and perhaps spur hatred toward him. Even with insignificant scarring she might still despise him. He did not think he could bear the loathing of such a beauty, from the woman who would be his wife.
"This is for you." The warrior carefully removed a small tin cup from the fire, setting it aside to cool. He had been simmering some kind of concoction. Sera wondered what was in the container, but did not have the ambition to ask. "It will ease the chiseling inside your skull."
Sera imparted a dubious look toward him, wary of his motives.
He was aware of her suspicion. "It will not tranquilize you Sera, only quell your discomfort."
The tin had cooled enough to be handled. Sera brought the cup close to her face and inhaled, detecting a slight, but familiar herbal aroma. Then she tasted the brew.
"Chamomile?" She looked up at him.
"We call it anthemis. There are other remedies mixed with it."
Sera sipped the tea, finding it quite soothing. His claim was correct, for
within a short time the throbbing in her head diminished and she was thankful.
"The citizens who dwell in the Corridors of the Eighth Zone are allies to my zone." He poked at the fire with his dagger, clearing the ash and coaxing the flames to life. "The Corridors are safe refuge, but the Zone itself is large with areas that are unguarded. Many travelers pass through this Zone without detection. Our adversaries may lie in wait. We will sleep in cycle."
"I’ll take the first watch then," Sera elected.
"If you wish." He sheathed his blade and reclined atop the dirt. "I have faith you will not slay me in my indefensible state."
Sera stiffened at his words. Had he understood her earlier threat that she was going to kill him?
"My rest is imperative if we are to reach my own Corridor, and you will not be secure out here alone. Wake me at half luna." He yawned, stretched his arms and placed one hand behind his head. The other hand gripped the hilt of his dagger. Sera watched him for several moments until his breath deepened into a peaceful rhythm. He was asleep. She looked at his dagger. His grasp on it tightened. He shifted his position and seemed to tense. She wondered if he slept with one eye opened. Disarming him would not be a simple task. Even if she did manage it, then what, kill him? He seemed barbaric at times, aggressive and foreboding, but he had done nothing that warranted her taking his life. Sera shook off the notion. She would not kill him, and she had already discarded her plan to run away.
Zone Eight. This meant nothing to Sera except to assume there were at least seven other Zones. She would later learn that there were in fact, ten Zones. Within the Zones there were Corridors or territories, whose residents claimed to be descendants of various Origins. Corridors were regulated by Chancellors of the higher Origin class, and each Chancellor was a member of the Magistrate Council, the ruling body of the Zone. All Corridors within the same Zone remained in good fellowship, but also held coalition with some of the other Zones. The Tenth Zone was an ally of the Eighth Zone, as well as, several others. The Fourth Zone however, was a bitter foe. This Zone was a monarchy. It had three kingdoms instead of Corridors, the First Kingdom being the most powerful. The other two were minor kingdoms under its rule.
The Third Corridor Page 3
