Kaine huffed. "It nearly tore your hand off, and you mean to defend it? Stand aside, we're going to have dinner if I have anything to do with it."
"No!" Render's shout echoed through the hills rousing the barks of several dogs. A chill ran through his blood when he heard Bobbington snort and awaken inside the cottage.
"Render! REN - DER!" he roared. "By the scrolls of Malkor, where are you!"
"Now you've done it," Kaine said and gathered the two younger boys. "Better run with us."
"And when I return?" Sweat seeped through the opening in his scabs and burned. "You know what he'll do to me."
"Suit yourself." And with that Kaine flew off with the boys.
The door blasted open.
The cat leapt off the barrel and into Render's arms.
The sight of Bobbington, his lardy, hairy belly hanging over his pants, and the whip in his fist made Render's hands tremble. Had he the stature or strength, he might well stand up to the brute.
Render had neither. Nor did he possess the fortitude to escape for orphaned as a babe and sold as a slave, this was the only home he knew.
"Wretched vermin!" Bobbington said, his foul breath steaming up into the night. "You dare run? In the middle of the night? Have you so soon forgotten the last time you tried?"
The wounds on his back permitted no such relief. "Sir, I—"
"And what is that, eh?"
Render glanced down at the warm, furry creature of destruction, sitting in his arms and purring. "It... it's a cat."
"I can see that, you fool! Bring it here so that I can gut it and sell its innards to the fiddle maker."
Render turned the cat away from him, as if she might be offended by Bobbington's words. "What a ghastly thought!"
"It's just a mangy cat. Bring it here, boy!"
"No!"
That was the moment that changed everything. Bobbington's lips shook, his right eye twitched. With great malice, he uncoiled the whip. Render had been lashed many times before, but now he feared for the cat.
"Go," he said, and placed it on the ground. "Run!"
Bobbington blinked, his mouth gaping in surprise. "Why you...you insolent little—! Stand still and receive your due!"
The cat ran a few steps towards the wood, then stopped and turned around. With its back arched it watched.
"Five lashes now," Bobbington said, "then ten more after I drag you back inside!"
Teeth clenched, eyes unblinking, Render stood there, gazing into Bobbington's inebriated countenance.
He was prepared.
Bobbington lifted the handle of his whip, wound back his arm as far as he could without falling.
Render mustered all his courage.
His shoulders crept up. His neck tensed.
And then...
He ran.
"What—?" Bobbington sputtered and lashed out. But Render was out of reach. Bobbington, surprised as Render, fell forward landing face first into the dirt.
The cat flew into the thicket.
Render followed, arms and face clawed by dry branches. The frigid air seared his lungs as he ran.
Bobbington gave a great shout. "Come back here, boy!" His heavy footfalls grew nearer. "I'll flay you and that flea-ridden cat!" In his condition however, it was doubtful he could ever catch him. Nevertheless, Render ran faster still.
Letting out a growl befitting a creature many times its size, the cat raced over to the only possible hiding place.
"Not there!"
For lack of a better plan, Render followed. Straight into the black cave, which neither he, nor Kaine, nor anyone with half a brain dared set foot.
In he charged, following the lunatic cat.
CHAPTER TWO
Pallid moonlight entered from between the vines which dangled over the cave's mouth like the fingers of a hag. Sliding his hand along the rough, damp wall, Render continued to step deeper inside. The air hung thick and old. It reeked of moss and other decaying things which he hoped not to discover.
"Boy!" Bobbington's voice boomed into the cave. Again he called, but this time a bit quieter. "Render?"
Just then, something rather large and heavy brushed past Render's hand. He gasped and braced himself against the cave wall as the firm, sinewy form, covered with bristly fur pressed up against him.
He saw nothing, but felt the creature's warmth and heavy footfalls thumping ahead. Then, the rumble of a deep growl filled the entire cave, like that of a great lion or bear. A cold tingle danced up Render's back.
"If...if you think this is amusing...." Bobbington's voice broke. "You'd best quit this foolery right now and come out."
He dared not move.
The growl started again.
"What in all that is—? Render come out at once!"
Render's heart pounded so loud in his ears he feared it would betray him. Just when he could stand it no longer, the growl sprang up into a terrible roar.
Bobbington let out a girlish scream.
A mad rush of leaves and branches.
His quickly fading cries.
Bobbington fled. Faster than one could have imagined, considering his weight and condition.
With his ear turned to the cave's entrance, Render listened to the roar once again echoing into the wood. Whatever beast had frightened Bobbington away would surely return for Render.
And the cat.
Where was that foolish little animal, anyway?
Better the monster eat her than me, he thought. But then, from the front of the cave came a tiny sound. Something that struck him as both odd and alarming.
"Meow?"
If he didn't already suspect delirium, Render would have remained completely still, within the cave until dawn. But how was it that the cat stood there, near that dreadful monster? And alive?
Unless...
Render approached the cave opening, standing as tall as he could for he had heard that if one were to confront a bear or a mountain lion, one must stand as erect as possible and shout loudly.
Steady now.
Ready to shout....
He waited a moment, then leapt out into the open.
"HYAH!"
But there was no monster. Had it hidden behind a rock? A tree? Waiting to pounce and shred him to ribbons? To the left, he directed his eyes. Then to the right. Above and behind. Nothing.
No monster.
And then...
"Meow?" Warm, and furry, the cat rubbed against his bare ankle, just above his shoe. Render jumped back and gasped. "Oh, it's you."
"Mrow." The little rascal. With a tilt of its head, it gazed up at Render as if he had gone completely insane. But then it continued to circle his legs, leaning in and rubbing warmly against them. Had it no fear, no sense?
He scooped the cat up into his arms and stared down the hill. Below, oil lamps mounted on cottage walls flickered. The hinges on his master's door—his former master—squeaked. Bobbington had a habit of complaining such that his neighbors could hear of his woes and perhaps commiserate. Instead, they took to avoiding him.
He could be heard now, muttering on about how Render had become more trouble than he was worth. Bobbington rushed in and shut his door with a heavy slam that reverberated throughout the village.
"Well then," Render said, rubbing the cat behind its ears, "We'll not be going back, I suppose." It purred as he slipped it inside his leather vest, sharing some much appreciated warmth.
From the top of Smyth's Hill, Render's shadow stretched down to the bottom and made him look enormous. He gave the farming village, the place he'd called home for as long as he could remember, one last look, then turned to face the moon. Amber light, brighter than he'd ever seen before, almost made him shade his eyes. Within his vest, the cat moved. It too stared at the strangely bright, strangely hued moon. To Render's surprise, it turned its eyes to his, as if to speak.
"I've never seen anything like it before, either," Render said, and scratched gently under the cat's chin. Its throat trilled as i
t leaned its head down in the crook of his thumb and forefinger. From where he stood, Talen Wood ended behind him. Before him however, an open plain stretched for about a mile and dropped off.
A howling wind chilled Render to the bone and nearly threw him off balance. He held cat tighter and reestablished his footing. "You all right?"
Its claws dug into his forearm.
And as quickly as the gust came, it passed, swaying tree branches below. Like ripples in a lake, the tops of the trees shivered.
He'd never wandered this far from the village before. But up ahead, he knew of a rocky precipice—the largest of several—which dropped so far, no one had ever returned to say just how high it stood over the plain. Further East, miles past the white desert valley, a battalion of mountains lined the wasteland like sentries. The Handara Mountain Range. The tallest summit, towered far above the others like a commander inspecting warriors under his command. Render's pulse quickened at the sight, for he had never gotten such a clear view before.
What lay on the other side?
Lacking proper education afforded only to the genteel people of Valdshire Tor's grand citadel, all he'd heard were tales, legends and rumors.
An escaped slave now, Render imagined life as an exile, crossing to the East. As far from Valdshire Tor as he could get. After all, to return meant certain capture—or re-capture, rather. He'd heard rumors of young slaves being turned over to the traders because they either displayed defect or were not particularly useful. And as he'd now proven himself a useless slave, Bobbington would probably have him hunted down, hauled off, and killed. Like the runt of a litter.
"Sort of like you, eh, cat?"
It buried its head deeper into his vest. At least he would not travel alone. He was glad of the company. But how would he traverse such a distance and so treacherous a terrain?
As if the ground had heard his question, a rumbling underfoot drew his attention to the wood. The cat stiffened as the whinnying of horses and the thunder of their hooves approached.
Render tried to run. But with nowhere to go but down, he froze in place. Three riders wearing red tunics over chainmail shirts and hoods approached from all sides.
With all his might, Render dashed into the fast closing space between two of the horsemen. The sickening sound of scraping steel filled the air as the dark riders unsheathed their swords.
Glints of reflected moonlight flashed.
Render was stopped in his tracks by the cold, sharp edge of a sword under his chin.
CHAPTER THREE
“Halt, if you fancy the head upon your neck," said the mounted rider. "Or continue and leave it behind as a token." From her tone and the shining decorations on her armor, Render gathered she was the leader.
She scoffed. "What's your name, boy?"
Not a word escaped Render's clenched throat.
"Seems to've misplaced his tongue," the rider to her right said.
"Speak boy," said the leader, leaning down so that the ends of her dark hair touched Render's face. "Or I'll find that tongue of yours with my dagger."
"Please, ma'am. My name is Render." The cat squirmed. He held it tight and out of view.
"Where're your parents?"
"Dead, Ma'am."
She let out a hearty laugh and the others joined. "Perfect." Pointing her sword down to the foot of the hill, she said to the rider behind Render, "Bring him back with the others. That ought to be the last of them."
"Yes my lady," he said in a gravelly voice. Between Render's shoulders, the point of the soldier's sword urged him downwards.
"If he resists, cut off his ears," the leader said, all humor gone from her tone. "If he tries to strike you, cut off his hands. If he tries to run cut off his feet. And if he tries to call for help..."
"I understand."
"As best you should," the leader said. "The wagon is nigh full by now. You know where to bring them."
"Aye."
"Hyah!" With slaps on their horses' rumps and a clinking of spurs, the dark rider and her remaining subordinates rode off.
Down the hill, Render now saw a horse drawn wagon, covered with a heavy canopy. Its driver sat at the reins, waiting.
When he stepped in, or rather, was shoved in, Render's captor forced him to sit upon a bench. "I won't hesitate to dice you into vittles if ye try anything," the horseman said. He then shackled Render's feet which were chained to those of some other unfortunate souls, whose faces were obscured in the pitch black wagon.
Like his fellow prisoners, Render dared not speak.
The door slammed shut. A thin beam of light stole in from the small square windows around the top of the door and walls. Immediately, the wagon lurched forward. Every bump in the path jarred him.
From the stuttering breaths, drawn through clenched teeth, Render could tell that there were children around him in that cramped space.
"I want to go back," came a pitiful murmur.
"Me too."
"Quiet!" hissed a familiar voice.
Render blinked in surprise. He sat up straight and inclined forward and whispered, "Kaine?"
"Keep to yourself, whoever you are, or I swear, I'll knock you down, kick open the door and toss you out. Then you'll be dragged to death, or they'll think you're trying to escape and...and—"
"Kaine you idiot, it's me, Render!"
All went quiet. Save for the rolling of the wheels, the blowing and snorting of the horses and the humming of the driver.
"Render?"
"It is you then, isn't it?" Render's heart leapt.
"Over to the light where I can see you," Kaine said.
"You first."
"Bother! Isn't it just like you to quarrel so?" Kaine exhaled sharply. "All the same, let's go to the edge so that we can see each other in the light."
"Right."
There at the end of the wagon, their eyes met and lit up.
"Why, it is you."
"Of course it is," Render said and grabbed his arm. He could not help but smile. "We're going to be killed!"
"Yes! Isn't it fantastic?"
If there was any joy at being taken prisoner by dark knights and horsemen, or whatever they were, it was in finding his brother and the twins. Not that Render wished ill upon them. It was just better not to face this alone. He asked the twins if they were all right. They were, but felt frightened. Though he had no basis for saying so, Render assured them that all would be fine.
Kaine stared down at Render's vest. "And what have we here?" At the opening of his vest, the cat rested with one paw casually draped over the other. It glared at Kaine with flattened ears. "How in the world did that happen?" He asked.
Render lifted it out and placed it on his lap, soothing it with strokes along its stiff back and tail. "As I said, I have a way with cats." Still staring at Kaine, her claws gripped Render's pant legs. "Anyway...I think she likes you."
"She?" Kaine scoffed. "That beast is too fierce to be a she."
"What do you know of cats?"
"What do you? I'll wager my slingshot that it's a boy."
"That so?" Not about to back off from a challenge, especially one which he knew he could most certainly win, Render held the cat up and lifted her tail.
"Reeeow!" She swung around and swatted Render in the face. Then she jumped out of his hands and went into the dark part of the wagon.
"You win," said Kaine.
"I told you so. Now, if you would be so kind and hand over your slingshot."
"Of course. As soon as I get back to retrieve it from my master's home."
Home.
The very word caused a twinge in Render's chest. Never had he known such a place that he could truly call home. Growing up a slave robbed him of something so important, so fundamental to being human: a sense of belonging.
Oh, of course he belonged. He belonged to Master Bobbington, as did cattle or sheep or any other livestock: property. But Render envied children who went home to warm dinners, whose fathers took them hunting,
taught them their wares, whose doting grandparents served as purveyors of forbidden confections. Such things he beheld only from a distance, remembered only as a dream.
The carriage came to an abrupt stop. A great deal of yelling and commanding alerted Render. The cat returned to sit upon his lap.
Kaine, pulling the slack between his shackles and Render's, stood on his bench and peered through the slits in the wagon cover.
"What is it?"
He didn't answer.
"Kaine!"
"Shhh!"
Folen and Stewan whimpered, the chains of their fettered feet scraped the floor. The cat, back on Render's lap, sat up and inclined her ears towards the window.
"By the decree of The Lord Mooregaard, Lord Duke of Talen Wood, advisor to King Corigan, open the gate!" It was the horseman who threw Render into the wagon.
"Where are we?" Render whispered. A cold drop of perspiration rolled down his spine.
"You're as observant as you are good with cats." Kaine clicked his tongue. "A blind man could see."
"See what?"
"That we're at the gate."
"What gate!"
"The Citadel, moss-brain."
The cat stiffened and leapt from Render's lap. She then climbed up and squeezed through the window in the door.
"Hey!" Render didn't bother trying to stop her. So distracted was he by sounds outside. They were so alien, he hardly noticed that she'd gone. Without realizing, he held his breath.
Heretofore, he had only heard stories of the great Citadel, where streets were paved with gold, where the highest forms of art, science and heraldry flowed. And where those unfortunate enough to be deemed criminals suffered unspeakable horrors.
"Don't you understand?" said Kaine, excitement hanging on every syllable, "We've been appropriated."
"Appro...?" said Stewan.
"It means," Render said, "we no longer belong to our masters."
Folen leaned over and whispered. "You mean, we're free?"
"I mean we're being sold."
CHAPTER FOUR
The Empire of the East
Once We Were Kings (Young Adult Fantasy) (The Sojourner Saga) Page 2
