“Clean up.”
When she still did nothing, the water dripping from the cloth in her hand to the ground, he took her hand and raised it and the cloth to her face. She gasped as the wetness touched her skin, her eyes focusing for the first time.
“Clean up.” He kept his eyes locked on hers, moving the cloth across her forehead. “Clean up.”
She pulled her hand free, looking at the wet cloth held in it. “Yes.”
She blinked several times, as if becoming aware by inches of her surroundings.
“I’ll wait for you outside.” He felt strangely relieved to see life coming back into her face.
Larana answered with a single nod, bringing the cloth back up to her cheek. He nodded back and exited the shed to give her some privacy.
He waited for her in the shade of the large oak by the shed, studying the land and wondering why so many farms were built the same. From the remains of the house, he knew it’d had no more than three rooms. It would have had a thatched roof, whitewashed sod walls and a central hearth for preparing meals and heating the house in the winter months.
A small garden in the back would have been for common vegetables, the actual crop fields farther off. A chicken coop would have been built against one side of the house; and perhaps they’d owned a few goats or a mule, though there was no sign of either now.
How similar it was to the place he’d spent the latter part of his youth—a place that had been both a prison and a haven to him.
Shaking himself out of the strange, misplaced mood, he pushed away from the tree as he spotted Larana exiting the shed. Her face and arms were clean again, her hair damp and in place. Though she’d obviously also tried to clean the worst of the stains off her clothes, aside from wetting and smearing the soot, they didn’t look much better.
She approached him rather meekly. "I’m done."
He nodded and studied the sky. “We still have a few hours of daylight left, so we should cover as much ground as possible before it gets dark.”
She followed as he retrieved his pack. Though she appeared more like normal, he noticed the dark circles growing beneath her eyes.
“Do you have any other relatives near here?” he asked her.
She looked away, her eyes turning sad. “No. I have no other family.” Her gaze strayed to the mound where her aunt and uncle were buried. “I–I’m a foundling. Aunt Ban and Uncle Zed found me on the road.”
Torren felt his right eye twitch. This story was starting to sound just a little too familiar for comfort. “I take it they had no relatives, either?”
Larana shook her head no.
“I see.” He felt the odd mood overtaking him again. “Let’s go then.”
He hefted his pack higher on his shoulders and set off the way they’d come. Once they reached the point where they’d originally found the path, he didn’t leave it but instead followed it to the stream. Once there, he took the time to refill their water skin.
“Do you know if this connects to a river, or a road?”
Larana nodded quickly. “Yes. There’s a road that runs east to west, some ways down. I wasn’t allowed to go that far, but I did it once.”
She looked guilty at the admission.
He had traveled through this area a number of times over the years and thought he held a pretty good idea where the stream would take them. “Come on, then.”
He stepped into the water and followed its course upstream. It reached about halfway up his boots. Larana hesitated long enough to remove her slippers then waded in after him.
Though the afternoon was warm, the girl was shivering by the time he called for a short break. Her teeth almost chattering, she slipped on a rock while stepping out and fell to her knees, getting her skirt and legs wet as well as the shoes she’d carried. He frowned at her bumbling even as she looked up at him, her cheeks coloring.
After a moment, he went over and offered his hand to help her up. As they touched, he felt a tickling in the back of his head and something akin to gratitude.
“I’m very clumsy. Sorry for the trouble.”
He let go of her hand as soon as she was on her feet, shaking his head at the strange feeling. “I think we’ll be able to reach the road before nightfall.”
Larana nodded, trying her best not to look cold. The circles he’d noticed under her eyes earlier were noticeably darker.
He made a decision, and the slight scowl that was his normal expression disappeared. Though he wasn’t aware of it, it erased years from his face. “We haven’t eaten since this morning. Why don’t we stay here a bit longer and eat something to hold us over until we make camp?”
The girl nodded eagerly. “Yes, please.”
He rummaged through his pack and pulled out a hunk of meat wrapped in waxed cloth. Taking out his boot knife, he cut portions for both of them.
She wolfed hers down after the first tentative bite. He was thinking of giving her more when she enthusiastically licked her fingers but hesitated as she abruptly stopped and tears formed in her eyes.
He knew loss was never easy, but it was best to just deal with it and then forget.
“I’m sorry about your aunt and uncle, but you need to put their passing behind you. There was nothing you could have done. Nothing will bring them back no matter how much you want it. For your own sake, just forget about them.”
Larana turned to look at him, her face filled with shock. “How can you…?”
He stood up and slung his pack over his shoulder. “We’d better get moving.”
In less than an hour, they found the place where the stream crossed the road. Thick planks had been set to make a small bridge. He climbed up, staring long and hard in both directions as Larana moved to join him, her still-damp shoes making squishing noises.
“Let’s keep going just a little longer,” he said after a minute. “Then we’ll get off the road and set up camp.” She nodded and said nothing.
They hadn’t gone far before he turned off to the side. He penetrated the tall grass and brush just enough to get them out of sight. “This should do.”
The girl sank down by a tree with a sigh and removed her shoes so she could rub her tired feet. He chose another tree nearby and removed his pack before sitting. He unhitched the blankets and tossed one to her. He then removed the remainder of the meat as well as more hard bread and cheese, dividing most of it between them.
As they ate, the sun disappeared from overhead and everything plunged into deep shadows before being swallowed by darkness. He was caught off-guard as Larana, a mere lump of deeper shadow across from him, whispered, “Have you…have you lost a loved one, too?”
He said nothing, not liking the question. There were things he didn’t enjoy thinking about, let alone speaking of to a stranger. He grabbed his blanket and spread it out on the ground.
“You’d better get some sleep. We’ll be starting out early in the morning.” He lay down and turned his back to her, hopefully cutting off any further conversation. He stared into the darkness, listening to her settle in before eventually drifting off to sleep.
Chapter Three
A heavy weight crashed from above, pinning him and the others down. Dark-clothed bodies rained on them from the closing gloom. Grinning bloodlust; answering fear. His father cut in front of him, blocking his view—hastily trying to push him back. His angry expression changed to one of abrupt pain. His father falling on top of him, forcing him down, warm liquid splashing on his face and arms.
Panic, madness. Screams from the others yet no way to escape. Pinned, not able to breathe. His fellows dying, others wounded. The dark men crippling them as they laughed at their predicament. Why are they doing this?
Suddenly, freedom is his; but before he can flee, they close in, pushing him this way and that. The hands—the hands reach for him, tearing at his clothes, at his body, drowning him with pain.
* * *
Torren sat up, his breath coming in harsh gasps. Fear chilled him, the echoes of
past pain flooding him. Slowly, very slowly, the true night congealed before him, reality reasserting itself. The dream dissipated into the past where it belonged.
With shaking hands, he pushed his clammy hair away from his face. It had come again. Why? It made no sense. It had been almost a year since the last episode, and now he’d had the dream two nights in a row. Would he never be rid of it?
He twisted where he sat, his sweat-soaked shirt clinging to him. Angrily, he shoved his questions aside and pulled it off, feeling in his pack for another. He didn’t put the new one on right away, though, letting the night air cool him. When he felt calmer, more like himself, he slipped his arms into the sleeves. He was about to bring it up over his head when a soft touch caressed his back.
Goose bumps rushed up his spine, a strange tingling sensation suffusing his body. A queer combination of feelings rushed through him: worry, curiosity, sadness. For a moment, it was as if his body were paralyzed even as his confused mind ran in frenzy through a dozen scenarios of bandits or creatures running across him in the night.
Then, he was free, the touch leaving him as unexpectedly as it had come. A strangled sob sounded from behind him.
Torren whipped around, his hand slipping out of his shirt and automatically reaching for the sword he’d left sheathed beside him.
“Those scars…” Larana’s sorrow-filled voice was barely audible, yet it froze him as if he were in the grip of whatever had just happened again. He could barely see the girl’s outline in the darkness, her words coming as if from a disembodied voice.
He shook his head, struggling to free himself of his paralysis even as he tried to make sense of what was happening. “They’re nothing.”
“That’s not true!” She leaned forward, her voice filled with grief. “Pain…there was so much pain.” She hid her face in her hands and wept as if his anguish were her own.
Torren stared, not knowing what to make of it. What kind of girl was this? How did she know these things?
“What did you do to me?” The question came out as a harsh accusation.
She didn’t answer, weeping quietly before him. He reached for her arm, making sure not to touch her exposed skin.
“Answer me!”
She looked up; and though he could not see clearly, Torren felt her gaze cutting through him. He let go of her. Confused and angry, he moved back and half turned away from her.
“What did you do?”
After several long moments, Larana finally gave him an answer.
“I–I’m not sure. It’s just something that happens sometimes. I didn’t mean…I didn’t mean…” Her hand shook as she reached as if to touch him.
“I suggest you don’t do it again,” he said gruffly. He moved even farther away from her and slipped his shirt on. His mind in turmoil, he lay down with his back to her once more, willing her to leave him alone.
She scooted away, sobbing softly. He wasn’t sure if it was because of his anger, the loss of her family or his past pain. Why did he even care? He lay awake until the sounds of her weeping finally faded away.
Chapter Four
Torren turned in his blanket then opened his eyes to the dawn. He yawned, feeling sleepy, until his attention drifted across the way and he spotted the girl. She was already awake, sitting up and studying him.
As soon as their eyes met, she looked away, her cheeks coloring. He sat up and turned from her with a scowl. All that had transpired the night before came flooding back; he felt no better about it now. The best thing he could do was to get rid of this strange girl as soon as possible.
He stood, grabbing the previous night’s discarded shirt in the process. He peeked out of the corner of his eye at the girl and found she hadn’t moved. Her sandy hair was back in place, and her blanket was folded beside her. How long had she been awake? How long had she been staring at him?
A feeling of unease crawled through him. He was encumbered with too many mysteries and not enough answers. Maybe it was time to change the situation.
“What did you do to me last night?”
He felt a slight sense of satisfaction when she stiffened at the question. She looked at the forest floor, at the trees, the sky—anywhere but him.
“I didn’t do anything to you,” she said hesitantly. “It’s not something I purposely do. It–it just happens.”
Torren hung up his shirt and rolled up his blanket. “What ‘just happens?’”
Larana stared at her hands in her lap. “I feel things. Every now and then, I see things. But it happens when it wants to, not when I say,” she added quickly. She glanced over at him, trying to gauge his reaction.
His uneasiness grew, though he couldn’t say why.
“I see. And what did your uncle and aunt make of this power of yours?”
Larana looked away again, her eyes fogging a little at the mention of her dead relatives.
“They asked me not to use it if I could help it.” She fidgeted. “But I can’t always do that.”
He took a half-step toward her. “You say you sometimes see things. Did you see things last night?”
His throat was tight.
She looked up at him as if sensing his discomfort. “No. All I got was the fear, the horror of what was happening. The pain.” Her voice grew small, her eyes darkening with sadness. “Why would someone hurt you like that? You were just a boy.”
Torren’s hands bunched to fists at his side, his whole body tense. How did she know this? Was it just a guess? Who was she? Did she see more than what she was telling? It took an act of will to not think about it.
“We should be on our way. We can eat while we travel.”
He turned his back on her and stiffly picked up his pack. He almost jumped when he turned around and found her close, holding out her blanket to him. He took it, not looking at her. Yes, the sooner he got rid of her the better.
Once ready, he took them back out onto the road and headed east. He took out some food and passed Larana back her share, barely looking at her. She tried to smile in thanks, but he pretended not to notice. He’d already involved himself with her problems more than he liked.
About midday, the road they were on connected to a much larger one paved with stone. It was a Grand Highway—legacy of the Emperor Solarious. The highways had been the emperor’s way of unifying the empire while at the same time guaranteeing his name would be spoken for generations to come.
Stepping onto the highway, Torren glanced north and south and spotted what might be a caravan coming their way in the distance. The main merchant routes all lay along the highways—they were the most direct means to the majority of the larger cities and, with the garrisons and outposts set along the way, one of the safest routes as well. Which was exactly the reason he tried to avoid them. Only high-priced inns and vendors could be found along the highways. Torren could eat for days on what one of the inns charged for a single meal. How the pilgrims, who used the roads on their way to the multitude of holy places of the goddess and her children, could afford them he had no idea.
Unfortunately, due to his present circumstances, using the highway would be his best course. With a small sigh, he turned and headed north.
A few hours after midday, the caravan caught up to them. They moved off the road to let the merchant and his wagons pass, using their arrival as an excuse to take a rest. He studied Larana as she inched toward the highway’s edge, intent on the covered wagons laden with southern spices and silks. She waved eagerly at the drivers and the men walking beside them. Some of them actually waved back.
He also studied the group, but for different reasons as he noticed the high number of guards they’d brought along. It looked as if he wasn’t the only one aware of the rumors about the massing army to the north. War could be good for business, but it also brought the vultures to the fore.
Once he left Larana somewhere, he might consider selling his services part of the way to the border to one of the caravans. The pay wasn’t bad, and the work normall
y easy. It would do until he could hire himself out to the army, if there was one, or, better yet, sell his services to a private party seeking a little protection as they fled the potential conflict. Even the empire employed mercenaries for certain jobs now and again; and due to the mountains and the narrow passes, he was sure the struggle, if one was truly in the hatching, would be a long and taxing one.
Once the caravan was past, he got up to start them on their way again.
“Is it exciting to travel to other places?” Larana asked, her eyes bright. “Are the southern kingdoms as strange as they say?”
He looked into her expectant face and shrugged.
“That would depend on your definition of strange,” he told her. “Most places are alike. The climate might be different, the style of dress, the food, but inside, people are the same no matter where you go.” Saying nothing else, he set off, leaving her to catch up.
“I’m sure that’s true, but they still feel different, don’t they?”
He sighed. “I take it you’ve never traveled?”
She rushed up to his side. “No, only to local festivals. The farm is all I’ve ever known. My aunt and uncle weren’t much into travel. Said it was a waste of money, and the fields wouldn’t tend themselves while we were gone. But I’ve always thought it would be exciting. You’ve traveled a lot, right?”
Torren nodded. He’d been traveling since he was sixteen. He’d seen more than his share of what the world had to offer. “Some.”
“Please, won’t you tell me a little about other places? Just for a while?” she asked.
From the look on her face, he doubted he could put her off very easily. At least it would help pass the time.
“The Southern States of the Empire were some of the last additions before the Time of Peace began over a hundred years ago. The weather there is a lot more humid and hot than here. The cities bordering the sea are cut into huge cliffs and overlook the water. The people dress in sheets, wrapping themselves up from head to toe.”
Vassal of El Page 3
