Hunter: Warrior of Doridia (The Saga of Jon Hunter Book 1)

by Ronald Watkins

  The fire grew and was soon sufficiently large. I told the Lady Shelba to tend it and see that it grew no more. It radiated a pleasant warmth and sitting beside it I carved a spear from a long piece of stout wood. In time, I placed the sharpened point into the fire for hardening.

  “A fire can be very useful. Do you not think so?” I asked my companion. The Lady Shelba remained silent.

  “I asked you a question. If you choose not to answer then I shall put out the fire. Now that my spear tip is hardened, I have no further use for it.”

  “Yes,” she replied hurriedly, “a fire is very useful. If it pleases you, I will tend it through the night, exactly as you wish.”

  “It pleases me,” I said. I regarded the Lady Shelba with new eyes. She could, I thought, be bent to the collar.

  ###

  We broke camp at daybreak. The wood had not lasted throughout the long night and an hour or so before daylight the Lady Shelba, naked, had been quite cold. She had moved closer and closer to the meager flame finally laying within the warm ashes. I suspected she would gather a great deal more wood the coming night. I had slept comfortably in my cloak. As we broke camp I finished the last of the cold pheasant from the night before. The Lady Shelba did not eat.

  I set out without comment, my companion coming along as best she could. As near as I was able to determine no one followed us. Nevertheless, I remained in thick forest, skirting open fields rather than risk crossing them. This part of the forest might be unoccupied but then perhaps there were many outlaws within it. I could only look for signs and exercise caution.

  I had little idea where we were headed. I could not as yet return to Taslea. The purpose of this journey had been to remove the Lady Shelba from the dangers there and to prevent her use as a tool against her family. I did not dare return to the caravan even if we could overtake it for the six men who had escaped me would surely report that I now had the Lady again. Zagos would send a swift troop of Sekers or another outlaw band to check the caravan again for us.

  Further, there would be no safety once the caravan reached Lathanah. Originally we were to arrive unnoticed and the Lady would have remained secure there throughout the winter. If we rejoined the caravan now and managed to safely journey to Lathanah, Zagos would know exactly where she was. There was no reason to believe that she would be any more secure in Lathanah under those circumstances than if she had remained in Taslea.

  I had no alternative but to head away from the cities and either maintain us in the wilderness, a task I did not relish considering winter’s approach and the marauding outlaws, or strike out until we hit upon another caravan route and then travel to some strange city. From there I would find some way to contact Urak Rahdon.

  I believed that the Lady would be most secure traveling as my slave. She already wore the slave collar and none would dare touch her without my permission. I alone could sell her and then too, no one paid much attention to another pretty slave.

  Finally, I had come to realize that I would enjoy teaching her the harsh realities of life and bending her to the collar, if not in fact, then at least enough to teach her it’s meaning so that she could better play the role. She needed and well deserved such treatment.

  As we traveled from the lower terrain into the foothills before us, the underbrush diminished and the journey eased even though the air was cooler. Ancient, massive trees towered far above us reaching into the clear sky. We were constantly surprising wildlife and as I had spent much of my youth playing hunter on my parent’s farm, I was confident that I could keep us fed.

  By mid- afternoon I elected to select a campsite and hunt for game. I set the Lady Shelba, dirty with soot still, scratched and filthy, to gathering wood and preparing a soft moss bed for me. I soon found several well-traveled wildlife paths and set crude dead falls, a primitive yet usually effective trap. I set three noose traps and then moved to a stream to spear fish, lacking line and hooks. I had no success.

  Frankly, I knew little about berries and was only willing to risk them as an act of desperation.

  I stumbled on two beavers working diligently by the stream falling trees, busy reinforcing their dam against approaching winter. The tree branches and saplings would be pulled under the pond and stored in the bottom mud, the bark to be used as food during the coming winter.

  To our misfortune, the beaver were nimble even on land and these rarely strayed far from water’s edge. They were alert and I never even came close to a kill. I was glad the Lady Shelba was not with me.

  I checked the traps and slew one squirrel caught in a noose. Resetting the trap I worked my way silently back to the camp, searching for bigger game. I stepped over a log and below me lay a fawn, her soft body covered with speckles, shivering in fear. She lay exactly as her mother had left her. I reached down and the trembling creature permitted my touch. I removed my sword and prepared to slay the animal but instead, moved on. There was enough game to allow selectivity.

  At camp I continued to ignore the Lady Shelba. I took a new length of wood and shaped it as a spear but about six inches from the tip I bound leather around the shaft tightly. I slit the spear in half up to the leather and notched the inside of the split. With a stout twig, I separated the split sides of the shaft. The moment I struck a fish it would dislodge the twig and the two sides of the spear tip would snap shut, catching the fish and holding it fast with its notched edge. This weapon with its gapping mouth required much less skill than my crude spear.

  I returned to the stream optimistically and was soon rewarded by five large fish. After cleaning them, I wrapped each in wet leaves and set them in the fire’s coals. I spit the squirrel and assigned the Lady Shelba the task of turning it. It had by then been four days since she had last eaten.

  Darkness fell as I removed the first cooked fish from the coals, my companion’s eyes never once straying from it as I unwrapped it from the steaming leaves. Trees surrounded our small campsite and brush was close at hand. The fire kept us warm. I had food and weapons to protect us. We were secure.

  “Please, may I eat?” she asked. I remained silent and slowly consumed a fish. I pulled the second from the fire’s edge.

  “Please, may I eat? I am very hungry.” Silence.

  I finished the second fish and pulled the third from the coals. The Lady Shelba continued turning the squirrel but eyed my meal as she did.

  “Please, may I eat? I have gathered wood and prepared a soft bed for you. I am very hungry.”

  I began to eat the third fish.

  “Who is High Caste here?” I asked.

  She paused, then lowering her head whispered, “You are.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because you control the food. Because you have the weapons and have the power.”

  “Who is Low Caste here?”

  “I am,” she said, so softly I could hardly hear her.

  “Who is my servant?” I asked.

  “I am,” she replied.

  “Have you worked this day?”

  “Yes, I have,” her voice stronger now.

  “Then I allow you food. Kneel and accept food from me.” This was common among Masters when teaching a slave the meaning of her collar. She hesitated but knelt.

  I handed the fish to her which she consumed noisily and quickly. I removed the squirrel and consumed its meager flesh, at last satisfied. I reclined in silence seated upon my cloak spread over the soft bed my servant had prepared earlier that day.

  “May I eat the last fish?” she asked softly.

  “No,” I replied, “it is to be my breakfast. You have not worked enough or,” I said, looking boldly at her breasts, “pleased me enough.” The food had taken away some of her desperation and for a moment I saw a flash of the old Lady Shelba. She sat perfectly still and then stood, turning her body in the firelight and said, “Do I not please you?”

  Even though we had been together now for three days this was the first opportunity I had to really look at her. Dirty as she wa
s, she was undeniably the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. “You are a pretty girl,” I allowed, “but I have seen many prettier and they were available to me and accomplished lovers as well.”

  “I am not available to you!” she shouted, eyes sparkling and wild.

  I came to my feet, towering above her and drew my sword, slowly. I placed its tip to her noble throat just below the chin. She stood immobile and erect, staring defiantly into my eyes. “Only because I choose not to have you,” I said, my voice barely audible.

  I returned the sword to its sheath and wrapping myself in my cloak was soon fast

  asleep on my soft bed of moss.

  ###

  We traveled each day at a leisurely pace, for with no destination in sight I saw no reason for urgency. We skirted the base of the mountain range and sought to parallel it until striking a road or discovering a pass through it. Food remained adequate and I gave the Lady Shelba enough for her need though not as much as she wished.

  She bathed daily and cared for her hair. The better, I thought, to please me. We continued to speak infrequently and only as need dictated.

  One evening after feeding her a small squirrel I reclined against a tree, relaxing. I had eaten well and had even tossed some extra meat into the fire. It would have made more sense to save it but I wished to make the point that I considered food to be plentiful enough to waste and also that I only fed her what I wished, not what I could spare. I wanted her to know that I chose not to give her more.

  She watched the meat burn in the coals and licked her lips. At last she spoke.

  “You are a cruel man.”

  I held her eyes fixed to mine and spoke. “I have never refused to speak to another because I deemed him beneath me,” I replied. “I set no rules that force men merely because of their father’s Guild into professions they do not wish. I do not refuse dedicated men the right to a Guild. I do not squander riches the poor could use on too many clothes and on idle, worthless friends. I do not,” I said, “whip slaves for the pleasure it brings.” I regarded her. She sat in silence.

  “We will die here,” she said finally, more to herself than to me.

  “Perhaps,” I replied.

  “I do not wish to die.”

  “Nor I.”

  “I am tired of being hungry. May I not earn more food?”

  “Yes,” I said, looking at my bed but I was only teasing her. “You may dance for me to earn food – if you please me.”

  Slowly, hesitantly at first, she came to her feet and as she clapped her hands in rhythm, she hummed a slave tune and in the forest before the Seker Hunter, the Lady Shelba, by the flickering fire, danced for more food.

  I gave her a fish.

  ###

  At last I reached the conclusion that we should attempt crossing the mountains before us and so I searched more closely for a pass. I hoped as we peaked the range and put Taslea completely behind us, I would be able to spot a city or farms or at least a road. I regretted that my training had not included some explanation of the countryside surrounding Taslea. As the situation now stood, I knew little of the country in which I found myself afoot and nothing of the terrain or location of cities. I had never seen a map of Doridia when I was in Taslea and I doubted if any existed. One need only know the road to a city if one wished to travel there and few did except merchants, Sekers and occasional travelers.

  The snow already stood high upon the peaks and I sought a pass which would enable us to cross beneath it. We would need more clothing and extra food before the passage. I decided to establish a camp from which I would hunt bigger game. A sense of urgency governed my every action for if we were trapped by winter snows we would perish.

  The camp site I selected, I believed, would be secure for a few days. It was located near a stream and with plentiful game. The pass I had sought was located directly above us, cutting a clean line across the mountain range. Rugged and rocky, I thought nevertheless we could cross it if we completed the attempt ahead of the snow.

  I had fashioned a serviceable bow superior to the crude weapon I had used previously and carved several proper arrows. My game was now to be larger and traps would not be sufficient. The Lady Shelba tended the fire and remained naked.

  Hunting was good and I killed a deer before nightfall the first day we camped.

  Cutting a roast I spitted it and began working the deer fur. I knew little of what I was doing but I suspected my noble companion knew nothing. We would require several animal skins at least to keep us warm enough for the crossing. The Lady Shelba would need shoes as well.

  “Why do you treat me this way?” she asked unexpectedly after a day’s silence. She knelt naked and exhausted from the day’s activities. Much of the harshness had disappeared from her face and I had observed that she carried herself in a more feminine manner than she had when I had seen her in Taslea.

  “Because it pleases me,” I replied to her.

  She continued to tend the flickering fire. I noticed that she had made an especially comfortable bed for me. The silence continued as darkness descended on the forest. In the distance, I heard the roar of great cats and close, once or twice, the movement of some savage animal. Fortunately, they were unwilling to approach a fire.

  “Am I a slave?” Her voice was soft as a feather and for a moment I was uncertain if she had spoken at all.

  “No, you are a Free Woman, a Lady of the High Caste. Do you feel like a slave?”

  “You treat me like one,” she said, avoiding the question. “You make me work as one.”

  “You have earned no better treatment. I do not beat you nor use you to serve my desires. I care for you as you deserve. I feed you as you earn. Your dancing and your beauty please me and you have earned more food because of them. I allow you to clean game and cook, this to earn you more food. You are not a slave and I do not treat you as one. You own slaves and you know how a Master may treat them.”

  She looked up sharply at me, remembering I was certain how she did treat her slaves.

  “You are an arrogant, haughty, and even cruel woman but no longer does your Caste and position protect you. I treat you as you deserve, for the person you are and it is the first time in your life anyone ever has. If you believe you are treated poorly then look to yourself to discover the reason, for it is in you where you will find the answer.”

  I turned to my work.

  In time, she spoke again. “You are wrong. I am no longer haughty or cruel. I am only a hungry, often cold woman. Perhaps I can help us more and be a more pleasant companion. If so, you will treat me better and feed me more.”

  “Perhaps,” I replied.

  “But I am no slave and I will not serve you in your bed, all else I will do but I will not service you as some tavern slave for the price of wine.” I saw fire in her blue eyes but no cruelness, no sign common to those of the High Caste.

  “Then let us share a roast,” I said. She hesitated, then for the first time – smiled.

  15. THE PASS

  “Move! Move: You must not stop. Move or you are dead.”

  I screamed into Shelba’s ear to be heard above the howling wind that raged around us. The knee high snow grew deeper with every step we took. We were exhausted but I knew we must continue until we had descended below the raging storm – or perish.

  We had remained in the lower forest region several days, hunting, preparing robes and packs, drying meat and fish and making shoes for Shelba.

  My companion had undergone a remarkable transformation since our conversation in the forest. She laughed often and once as I attempted to spear a fish, she crept up behind me and pushed me into the frigid water. I had chased her in anger and thrown her bodily into the stream but by then, I too, was laughing and dove in after her. It had been very cold but we had laughed and played as children, splashing and diving repeatedly until at last able to bear no more. We then ran for the camp and turned the fire into a blazing inferno as we sought to warm ourselves.

  That
night we had talked far into the darkness, taking turns tending the fire. She told me of her life and of her family. She spoke of her friends within the High Caste and of the parties and banquets that comprised her social life.

  “Have you no one special?” I had asked quite innocently.

  Although virginity was an absolute requirement of unmarried Free Women I knew

  they were often flirtatious and coy with their equals. A favorite suitor was more common than not even though fathers ultimately selected their daughter’s mate rarely with any concern for their preference. On rare occasions, if the suitor favored by the daughter was found to be acceptable, a woman might be fortunate enough to marry the man she loved.

  Shelba tensed at my harmless question and I realized that I had inadvertently stumbled on a topic sensitive to her.

  “Yes, there is someone who has my heart but it can never be.”

  She paused so long thereafter, I thought she had ceased the conversation altogether. Then, so faint, I scarcely heard, she spoke more to herself than to me. “Sometimes it is very hard to be of the High Caste and daughter of an Urak.”

  To change the subject I told her of my life. I can’t say she believed me but she listened. She taught me common children’s games of Doridia and I taught her Scissors, Paper, Stone which, unfortunately, she mastered very quickly. Whenever she won she laughed and clapped her hands as a child. It was the best night I had experienced since coming to Doridia.

  At last it came time for sleep. I wrapped myself in my crimson cloak and lay upon the soft bed of moss. Shelba who now had furs for bedding and had prepared clothes which I assumed she would begin wearing the following day, moved her bedding beside me.

  “I wish tonight that I was a tavern slave,” she whispered huskily, “free to ignore my Caste, my family and my heart and that if it pleased you, I would serve you as you wish. But naked as I am, a collar even about my neck, I am not a slave, nor am I free and I cannot.” She leaned forward and soft as the petal of a spring flower touched her lips to mine. “But know that I would if I could.”