by Lynn Lorenz
It was his turn to laugh as I wheezed, gasping for my breath like an old man. Damn. Sucking in a chestful of air, I got to my feet and the fight continued. We dropped our blades and went at each other, pummeling with fists, elbows hitting ribs, and rolling on the ground like two boys fighting over the last piece of honeyed fruit.
I had his head tucked under my arm, choking him and pounding on his back, when I felt him go limp. He slid from my grasp to the ground, his eyes closed.
“Damn.” I kneeled next to him. My big fists had treated him bad; his bottom lip was split and bleeding, and a bruise darkened on his cheek.
“Ansel. Can you hear me?” I leaned over him and reached to check his pulse.
His eyes opened and his fist shot up, catching me under my chin. The force of the blow slammed my teeth together with a loud snap and rocked my head back. I landed, sprawled on my ass. Leaping onto me, he straddled me at the waist as both his fists pounded my ribs. I caught his wrists, wrapped my legs around his waist, and flipped him.
Now I lay on top, pinning his arms above him as he tried to buck me off.
“You’re captured. Give in, pup,” I growled at him. Tasting blood, I touched my tongue to a rear tooth. It was loose.
Ansel’s chest heaved; anger and heat burned in those blue eyes as they locked with mine. Time hung in the air as we panted, drawing in breaths, trying to recover our wind. Neither of us shifted, but held our positions.
I felt Ansel harden beneath me.
I should have moved, rolled off him, but I didn’t. I stayed there, feeling his growing length press into my belly, staring into his eyes. Anger faded, but the heat remained. No shame showed in his eyes as they focused on my face, mere inches above his. I could feel his breath on my face and knew he could feel mine. His gaze dropped to my mouth and I knew if I didn’t move right then, we’d go somewhere I wasn’t sure either of us had ever been or wanted to go.
I rolled off, got to my feet, and spit out blood. Fingering the tooth, I decided it felt as if it would stay in, but time would tell. The break gave Ansel time to get to his feet, and he walked over to Brute, who sat at the edge of our mock battlefield like a statue, and scratched behind the dog’s ears.
“You’re better than I thought.” I turned away, found my blade lying in the grass, and sheathed it. “We can practice again tomorrow. Let’s be on our way. It’s a long ride before we reach the place I’d planned for us to camp.” Catching the trailing reins, I swung up onto my horse and headed back to the road.
Without a sound, his tongue feeling the swelling of his lip, Ansel mounted, and with Black Brute, as I was coming to call the dog, followed me.
By the time the setting sun streaked the sky with orange, our horses were plodding, and we were past hungry. Coming to a large field, Ansel pulled up and pointed.
“This is as good a spot as any for hunting. Come, Brute.” He jumped off his horse, pulled out his bow and quarrel, and stalked out into the field, the dog at his heels. I sat my horse and waited. He stooped next to the dog, and using his hand, gave the animal some command. Standing, his bow ready, he watched as the dog tracked its prey. About fifty feet into the field, Brute froze, then charged toward a bush, giving the first deep bark I’d heard from it.
A lone rabbit bolted. Ansel took quick aim and let fly his arrow. It found its mark. The dog trotted to the rabbit, the arrow sticking out above the tall grass, and sat as Ansel strode over to claim his prize.
Holding it up by its hind legs, he grinned, as proud as any boy with his first kill. By the gods, he was a beautiful sight, standing knee-deep in the tall golden grasses. I had to grin with him, sharing his good mood. After all, I’d share his catch later.
He recovered his arrow, tossed the rabbit in a sack, and the process repeated itself. Another quest by the black dog, another rabbit flushed, shot, displayed, and bagged.
Ansel returned, slung the bow and sack over his pommel, and mounted his bay.
“We’ll roast them over the fire.” I nodded to him. “It’s too open here; let’s find another, more secluded place to camp.”
“Right; it’s best not to encourage bandits by being too close to the road. Although between us, we would turn the tables on them.” Laughing, he looked younger than his years, and I wondered if he’d lied about his age. Then wondered why I cared.
“Indeed, pup. Your enthusiasm, not to mention your strategy of fainting, will have them at our mercy.”
Ansel’s eyes darkened as he tried to read my face, but I kept it plain. When he’d decided I meant only a jest, he gave a bark of a laugh and rubbed his back.
“Between that and your fists of iron, they wouldn’t stand a chance.” He smirked.
I turned the horse to the far side of the road where the woods grew and began to search for a place to camp. After another half hour, I found it.
To my reckoning, it was near perfect, secluded enough from the road to keep us hidden and with a patch of good green grass for the horses. The only thing missing was fresh water to fill our skins.
As I cleared a place for the fire, Ansel gathered wood. He returned, his arms full, and began to build the fire. I gutted and skinned the rabbits, tossed the innards to the dog, and found among Ansel’s woodpile a stick long and thin enough to spear the meat upon to roast over the flames.
We drank from our water skins and watched the meat cook on the spit, with me giving it a turn now and then. The smell of roasted rabbit rose and filled my nostrils, making my mouth water in anticipation. Ansel’s stomach rumbled and the dog watched the meat with the most interest I’d seen in his eyes since we’d started our journey.
I brought out the last of the cheese and bread, and we divided the rabbits between us. Ansel gave a portion of his to Brute, and we both gave him all the bones. The dog seemed happy and content to gnaw his dinner just at the edge of our fire’s light. Our dinner was eaten in comfortable silence. Being with Ansel was pleasant; he made few demands and he wasn’t much of a talker, which I could never abide.
The fire was banked and we stretched out to sleep, he on one side of the fire and I on the other. Across the dying flames, we watched each other. I had no idea what thoughts walked through Ansel’s mind, but mine were of a disturbing nature.
As if it were happening right then, I felt his body beneath me, his rod hardening. Thankful for the fire’s fading light and the growing darkness, I hoped he couldn’t see the way my breeches strained.
Rolling over, I faced away from him and looked out into the blackness of the surrounding woods. I heard him sigh and shift, and sometime later, his gentle snore. Pulling my cloak around me as the night chill set in, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.
•●•
Ansel was indeed an early riser. When I rolled over and tasted the staleness of my mouth, he and the dog were gone. I sat up, stretched, and went to find a tree to take a piss, assuming he’d done the same.
I found a large tree and loosened my strings, freed my cock, and began to piss when I heard a twig snap.
“Ansel, that better be you.”
“It is.” His voice sounded off to the right. “Pissing?”
“Aye. You?”
“Aye.” As we called to each other in the woods, it comforted me to know I wasn’t alone. I’d never felt a need for companionship before; I’d been alone for most of my life. Even when I am surrounded by my soldiers, I’m on the outer edge, preferring to stay off to the side. I learned early in this business not to get too close to anyone because either you or they had a fair chance of being killed. Grief was a distraction I couldn’t afford on the battlefield; caring for someone could get a man killed. I’d worried about my share of pups who’d signed on to fight and were unprepared for most of the action they saw.
I had long since lost the taste for watching them fall. With each young death, a piece of me would die along with them. Since they died despite my training, I had surely failed them. So, I stopped working with the young men, stopped caring about those around
me, just hired on, swung my sword, and said to hell with everyone else.
Now, damn it, I was breaking all my own rules. I had a pup under my wing and had taken on his training. As I tightened my strings and made my way back to the camp, I wondered if I’d also fail Ansel.
That thought made my stomach clench.
Ansel walked stiff-legged as we returned to camp. With a grunt, he lowered himself to the ground and laid back.
“With all the noise you’re making, you sound like an old man.” I grinned at him and began to clean my teeth with a spare piece of leather.
“My body feels as if your horse trampled it.”
“Only my fists, I fear. Are you well enough to ride?” He didn’t look bad, except for the dark bruise on his cheek and the swollen lip. I’d have to do something about his condition since I caused it. Perhaps a massage. That idea took root in my mind as I pictured his body stretched before me. Damn, it was too early in the morning for such thoughts. As if any time would be well for those thoughts.
“Aye, it’s nothing more than getting started. Once I’m up and moving, I’ll be fine.” He rolled to his knees, rubbed his back, and then stood.
I watched him walk to his horse, rolling his broad shoulders. Kicking the fire out, I picked up my saddle and began to ready Horse. He didn’t have a name; I just called him Horse, as in “that damn Horse.” I tossed his blanket on, then his saddle. In his usual surly temper, he tried to bite me. Knowing it, I sidestepped, and he turned to wreak his havoc on poor Ansel.
“Ouch! Damn horse!” I heard Ansel’s cry from the other side of the beast.
“Sorry about that, should have warned you he bites.” I lowered my head so Ansel couldn’t see my grin as I tightened the girth.
“You could have warned me sooner, Drake.” His voice growled in his throat, but I didn’t think he was truly mad at me.
“Aye, I could have.” I swung up on Horse, and he danced, tossing his head and fighting the bit in his mouth.
I followed Ansel and his well-behaved mare through the woods back to the road, and we headed west to Foray.
•●•
At midday, we came to a small village. It was nothing more than a collection of hovels around a well.
“Perhaps we can buy some food here.” Ansel’s stomach had been telling us of its condition for the last hour.
I shrugged and reined Horse to the well. The place didn’t look as if it had food to spare, but like magic, coins could change minds and make things appear. Before my feet had hit the ground, several people stuck their heads out of a few doors to survey us with wary eyes. Being on such a well-traveled road, strangers could not have been unusual, but they looked us over with more than normal caution. I drew the bucket from the well and spilled it into the trough for the horses.
An older woman stepped out and made to come nearer. If not for Ansel’s handsome face and winning smile, despite the bruises, she would never have approached us.
“Mother,” he called to her. “We are traveling a long road. Have you some bread and cheese you might sell?”
She stepped up to him, a toothless grin flashing and a merry light in her eyes. Could Ansel charm even snakes? Look what he’d done me, and now to this old woman. I thought he must have had his share of willing women in his short life and envied him for it. Perhaps wenching would be easier with him beside me to ease the way.
“We don’t have much, but I’ll see what I can find.” She scurried off to what I assumed to be her home, and disappeared behind its wood plank door. Several of the others came closer, their eyes still wary.
“Have you had some problem of late?” These people hung back, all timid deer, ready to run at the first sign of trouble. I could smell their fear, like sweat, clinging to them.
“Villains have plagued us, my lord.” One of the older men spoke up. Looking around, I saw no young men, only women, young children hiding behind their skirts, and old men.
“Where are your men to defend you?” Ansel turned in his saddle to search for them.
“Taken, my lord.” The old man inched closer to Ansel.
“By who?” I added. I thought it odd for Foray to start conscripting men when he was clearly hiring them.
“I’m not sure. Days ago, a troop came through here grabbing all the young men they could lay their filthy hands on, even boys too young to grow their first beards.”
The old woman returned with two small loaves of bread. “They took mere children, my lord. Their mothers grieve for them.”
I passed her a few coins, and she handed me up the bread. “We’ll keep our eyes open for your men. If we see them, we’ll see what we can do.”
A dozen pairs of eyes grew wide and stared at us. “What can you do against so many, my lord?”
“How many did you see?”
“A dozen, at least.”
I’d faced worse odds and lived. With Ansel riding with me, I felt sure we could handle it if we came across them.
“We’ll see what we can do, mother.” I nodded to the old woman and man, and tucked the bread in my saddlebags. Ansel gave them a lift of his hand, and we headed on our way.
After the village had disappeared around a curve in the road, Ansel looked at me and smiled.
“So, you’re confident the two of us can take a dozen armed men?”
“Well, I was counting on you to take two or three of them off my hands.” I laughed and he shook his head. Instead of irking him, he tried to give back.
“I’ll make a deal, old man. We’ll split them.” His face sobered. “Do you really think we’ll come across them on the road?”
“Depends if they’ve gotten the men they need and where they’ve moved on to. Let’s keep our eyes open and our ears alert; we may find traces of them. That many horses and walkers should leave clear tracks.”
We spent the afternoon trotting down the road and looking for signs, but the road was well used, making it impossible to tell old tracks from new. As the road rose from the flat fields into the woodlands, we slowed our horses and proceeded with caution.
“Halt.” I thought I’d heard some rumbling and looked into the blue sky. The clouds were white, so it wasn’t thunder. “Let’s get off the road.” I had no worries about taking on a dozen men, but on my terms, not caught out in the open.
Ansel followed me as I led the way into the woods. About twenty feet from the road, we blended into the thick brush and dismounted. Holding our horses close, we watched and waited.
It wasn’t long before the jingle of harnesses, the creak of riding leathers, and the pounding of hooves vibrated through the woods. A small troop of riders passed so close we felt the ground rumble beneath our feet. None of them wore tabards I recognized, and they seemed more a collection of men than a formal troop.
“What make you, Ansel?”
“Villains. Grabbing men to sell them?” His eyes narrowed and his fists clenched.
“Possibly. I counted seven. Let’s continue on and perhaps we’ll find the rest. If they’re still making forages for men, the rest may be camped nearby.”
Once back on the road, we stretched out, I in the lead and Ansel trailing behind so we could have earlier warning if someone rode up on us. An hour passed into the afternoon before I found the first sign.
A boy lay on his back near the side of the road, a dried pool of blood spread from beneath him. He couldn’t have been more than ten or ten and two. I pulled up and dismounted, wondering where the gods had been when this had happened.
“Ansel, hold Horse.” I tossed him the reins, kneeled beside the body, and shooed away the flies, thickest around his head and the dried blood. The birds had been at him. The lad’s eyes were gone, and the ravens were working on the tender flesh of lips and tongue. I’d seen worse, but not on so young a body.
“By the gods, how did he die?” Ansel paled as he stared down from his horse at the small body. The dog stayed back, sniffed, and shook his head.
I did a quick search and found th
e source of the blood as I turned him over. Such a large wound for so small a boy. What kind of man could kill a child?
“Stabbed.” I sat back on my heels and sighed.
“But why?” I could tell from Ansel’s tone he struggled with this death.
“Perhaps he stumbled, or spoke back. We may never know the truth.” I shrugged. “This must be one of the boys they took.” I stood up and ran a hand through my hair, unsure of what to do.
“I’ll take him with me and return him to the little village.” Ansel got off his horse.
I held up my hand for him to stop and thought for a moment. If we moved the body, the others would know someone had come along and give us away. If we returned him, we’d cause only grief for his mother. Perhaps not knowing was better. Hell, I didn’t know then and I don’t know now what would have been best.
“Leave him for now. When we find the others and rescue them, we can send word back then.” I got back on my horse. Clearly shaken, Ansel stared at the boy for a long time before mounting. I could offer no words to soothe him.
We continued down the road, riding side by side.
“Drake?”
“Aye?”
“When did our journey become a rescue?” He shot his blue eyes at me, the corners just barely crinkled.
“When that child asked us to find his murderers.”
Chapter Three
We found them late in the afternoon. A muddle of hoof and boot prints had been pressed into the soft mud leading from the road into the woods.
“Let’s get off the road and hide the horses.”
After securing them to low branches of a tree deep in the woods, we crept, silent as deer, toward their camp. The dog was ahead of us, head down, nose sniffing. If he could hunt birds and rabbits, perhaps he could hunt the killers of children.
