“She’s nice” the boy whimpered.
“I don’t care! Your behavior is nothing but unacceptable! I’ve told you, and you still can’t stay away like a boy who can’t stop peeing in bed at night. Have you no sense of self-control? No sense for others but yourself?” It was unfair, and she knew it. Putt was kind and unselfish, and he had too many feelings for the people around him to really care for his own interests.
“She… needs me” he whispered. She froze. Of course. When she had not been able to make him feel wanted and needed and loved, he had found what he needed somewhere else. And this someone had targeted the boy’s hunger and used him. The urge to not feel unwanted was stronger than any logic and any command. She had used the wrong tactics with the boy all along. It was the biggest mistake she had ever made to make Putt her apprentice. Avia had hardly time to finish the thought before they heard the uproar from the camp. Her eyes returned to Putt, and when she saw his eyes, she knew. She swung away from the traitor and ran towards the camp. As she ran, she strung her bow. Soon she picked out the sound of running feet, and she changed course to pick up the pursuit. She saw the fleeing Hockheba and next she sent an arrow flying through the air passing the pursuing Sinik and Pho and burying itself in a tree trunk after passing through the prisoner’s hand. Hockheba was nailed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Punishment
Life had turned into a worse mess than he ever thought was possible. Somehow, he had thought he could explain to his grandmother why he did it. How he had been able to fool himself to believe that he did not know. He had understood that Oon, Sinik, and Pho would despise him afterward, but it had not bothered him much. He did not like them, so what did it matter, he had thought. Avia herself had told him these things did not matter. He would not meet them again. That his grandmother, his master, would be so unreasonably angry had come as a nasty surprise. He had seen the two of them as a team. In reality, it had become him against the rest of the world. Oon had grabbed him, slapped him across his face and tied him to his hands and feet. It was little comfort that his grandma had been furious about it when she returned with Hockheba together with Sinik and Pho since she had not untied him. Not at all. She had seemed angrier about Oon doing it instead of herself. He did not understand. Things had not turned out as he thought it would.
Then Hockheba had been whipped by Sinik. With horror, he had seen her beautiful pale, slender back turn into a mess of red stripes and oozing blood.
When they had dumped her in a weeping bundle on the ground, they had all turned and looked at him. And at his grandmother.
“He’s only eleven,” his grandmother said.
“He’s a criminal” Oon answered, unyielding. He watched his grandmother’s face. She had not talked to him at all since she came back. She had not heard his story, asked him why. Did she not want to know his reasons? He had helped the prisoner escape, yes, he would never be able to lie about it, no one would believe him. Hockheba had escaped. Prisoners do not get loose without reason. And he was the only possible reason. But he had thought he would be able to explain, to make them, or at least his grandmother, understand. He would not. To his terror, he saw Avia give Oon and nod and approach him. In a panic, he made a feeble effort to get away. With his hands and feet tied, it was utterly pointless. She grabbed the front of his skirt and pulled him close.
“Listen, boy. I’m going to cut your ropes, and you will stand up, take your shirt off and grab that tree without a word or a whimper. You’re going to take your punishment without questions or escape attempts. Do you understand?” She had hissed it to him in a low, angry voice only meant for him. She was going to whip him. His own grandmother would make his back a red, painful mess. His eyes flickered to the forest, and her grip got harder.
“They consider you a criminal. They’ll gladly kill you if you run. If you want to live, do as I say. Take your shirt off and hug that tree. No arguments. It will hurt, but you’ll live.” She pulled her knife and cut him loose.
Putt felt his legs shiver. Avia took hold of his arms and pulled him to his feet. His fingers fumbled with the strings of his shirt. When he finally managed to untie it and pull it over his head, he saw his grandma with a whip in her hand waiting. They were all watching, everyone except for Hockheba who seemed lost in her own misery. At least three of them were hating him. He felt his whole body shake as he grabbed the trunk of a nearby tree. The bark pressed into his bare skin. Not barely as uncomfortable as it soon would be. He closed his eyes and waited, tense with every muscle vibrating. He heard the whip coming and then a burning pain over his back. His grip around the tree tightened, and he tried not to scream. What had he done to deserve this? A second strike and he could not keep from whimpering. Such a brave warrior he was. Crying like a baby. The third brought him down to his knees.
“Please, stop” he sobbed. “Please.” It did not help. She hit him a fourth time. He felt the blood reach the line of his pants. To his shame, he also realized he had peed, unable to keep his bladder when the whip had found its mark.
“That’s enough” he heard his grandma’s voice say. Putt let go of the tree and slipped down flat to the ground, wishing he was dead, leaving the pain and the shame behind.
Avia placed some more piece of wood onto the fire. She returned to her work to create new arrows. Putt was still asleep, on his stomach, beside her. They were alone. Oon Barsate had moved along with the prisoner and her soldiers. Without paying her. She had not humiliated herself by insisting on the money. The whole mission had been a mess. In ordinary cases, her capture of a runaway prisoner would give hope of a bonus and an excellent recommendation. This time it had meant she lost the job. There had been no discussion. When Oon had given orders to leave, which was Avia’s job, she knew. Knew and accepted it. Insisting on anything would lead to nothing. Better to accept the failure than pretending it did not exist.
What had she learned from this? The vital question she often asked herself, especially when something took an unexpected turn. Answer: Do not pick apprentices out of charity. That was one thing. Another thing was to not mix young boys with pretty damsels. Another mistake doing so. Putt moved and hissed in pain.
“How are you doing?” She was not surprised he did not look at her. There was no reply either.
“I’m sorry what this all became” she soothed. “It was a mistake being your master and your grandmother at the same time.” She saw him gazing into the fire without showing any particular expression. “Go to sleep. We’ll stay here until you’re healed enough to move without bleeding.”
“The others?” he asked.
“They left. We’re by ourselves again.” He did not say anything more. The boy looked into the fire and Avia up in the dark sky. Sparks followed the thin smoke and rising hot air. They gleamed in the air before they went out. She turned her head and watched out into the forest. Since she had not looked into the fire, she could make out the closest trees from the dark background without a problem. There were the typical sounds of the night, but no movement. In the other direction was the road. The campsite was behind a few trees and bushes for privacy, but no one traveled after nightfall. When they lay still tomorrow, those bushes would be a blessing. It was a good thing it was not in the middle of a hot summer too. Those wounds would likely heal without any problems.
“Are you in pain?” she inquired. Putt shook his head. Good. Her medicine still worked. She hoped he would fall asleep again. The boy had been punished enough already. No need to have pain too. She thought of Hockheba who had been forced to move on the same day as being whipped. A back who had had no scars what so ever, before Sinik placed the first lash across her back. Now the traces of her escape attempt would follow her for the rest of her life. Just as Putt would have his. And Avia herself had hers.
Being a warrior’s apprentice, one was almost bound to get lashed once or twice. Not that her crimes had been as near as severe as Putt’s but because you were supposed to be able to handle pain. How would
you know if you could if you never experienced it? You were also expected to show no fear in the face of the approaching danger. So physical punishments were the rule. And you learned to handle it as a part of the way of life. She had never considered her master cruel. Even if the punishment had seemed unfair compared to the mistake sometimes, she had always seen them as valuable experiences and good training for the future. Was that way of thinking so far from Putt’s that he would hate her for this? Even if he indeed had committed a crime? A real crime that could have cost him his life if he had been older.
It made her wonder about her previous apprentices. How had they dealt with their punishments? None of them had seemed to hate her. They had appeared to have the same attitude as she had had. Whose world was normal? Did most people feel like Putt? Probably. Most people feared pain and fled danger. Warriors did not.
She watched the stars up in the sky again. It would be a long night. Her bow was ready beside her. She had decided to be vigilant, just in case Oon Barsate would send someone to finish the job with her grandson. Avia could not grasp how someone could base a judgment solely on one action. Yes, Putt had helped a prisoner escape, but he was an eleven-year-old boy seduced by someone he looked upon as a substitute for his mother. If Sinik or Pho had done the same, it had been for other reasons, maybe even a good cause. There were those too, at least in the stories. Everyone enjoyed a story where the innocent underdog got away, but when it came to reality things were different. But to look at a child as a criminal without hope… no, that passed every level of understanding. She was glad there had not been a fight about the issue. Oon had not been happy with only four lashes, but none had been willing to fight her to add more of them.
She heard an unexpected sound coming from the direction of the road. In one elegant move, she was sitting on her heels, ready to get to her feet in an instant. She searched the shadows, listening for more clues. There it was again. The sound of cloth. She made a quick move sideways, getting out of the immediate sphere of light from the fire. As a result of years of practice, she had an arrow on the bow, aimed and shot within seconds. It hit the trunk of a tree as expected, but startled the hidden someone standing beside it. Knowing the person’s exact position, she had a knife under his chin before he had time to hide somewhere else.
“Please” the man pleaded, sounding shocked. She yanked the attacker out into the light. He could hardly be more than twenty. He was taller than she, which was an achievement, long ginger hair in a braid. Bright, blue eyes. His clothes and his mission spoke of a possible warrior, age made him likely an apprentice. But with too little experience to know how to handle a problematic situation. She saw no other weapons than a knife, which said a lot about lack of agility.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“Just someone.” And idiotic answer. Anger rose in her. She grabbed his wrist and wrung the knife from it.
“Exactly where do you think an answer like that will lead?” He did not reply, but she saw confusion in his face, not defiance. “There’s a reason why you’re at the mercy of a warrior at least fifty years older than you right now. And if you want to stay alive you better show some capability to prove your life worth sparing. Stupid answers do not help.” The young man tried to free himself from her grip. Not once had she ever behaved like that in the hands of the enemy. It was silly to even try.
“First of all,” she continued “accept your failure and don’t insult your restrainer by thinking he or she will let you escape. I’m in no mood for this kind of foolery, and you’ll end up dead if you continue.” He stopped. “Thank you. I’m gonna teach you a lesson, boy, ‘cause you seem to need it. When you get caught - and you will from time to time - no one is interested in keeping you alive if you behave like a four-year-old trapped in the act of snatching cookies. Civilized behavior and exchange of information is the only thing that can save you.”
“Ha!” he snorted back. “Like I would ever tell you who I work for.”
“So, you do work for someone, and your reason for sneaking behind the trees was not innocent.” She grinned at the stupid look on his face. “Then I would say it’s Oon Barsate who has sent you to kill the boy over there, am I right?” The man in her hands breathed a moment before he answered:
“Yes.”
“Never, ever, expose your employer, boy! There are other pieces of information you can share, but don’t confirm or deny who sent you. That’s a question you should not reply to.” Her anger had turned into amusement. What kind of master did this whelp have? After all, he was old enough to know these things.
“So, if I let you go, what will you do?”
“Go back home?”
“Good. And?”
“I tell them I killed the boy?”
“Wrong. Don’t lie. You want your employer to trust you. If you can’t be trusted, they’ll pay you for nothing, and you won’t get any new missions. It’s not about your ego, boy, it’s about getting a good reputation and paid jobs. You’re not the hero, son, you’re a hired hand who does a dangerous and awful job. No dragons to slay, no damsels in distress. You’d better remember that.” She let go of him, and he stumbled a few steps backward. He lingered by the edge of the light.
“Thank you” he mumbled, still not leaving.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Osapi.”
“Go home in peace, Osapi.” He gazed at her with eyes full of respect and wonder. Then he turned and ran. She heard his footsteps grow distant along the road.
So Oon Barsate had sent this Osapi to kill Putt. Or maybe even to kill both of them. Why? Did she in her heart think Putt was such dangerous person that he needed to be killed? Or was it some sense of justice that forced her to such measures? Probably, she would never get the answer. What was certain was that Putt was not safe. She could not count on Oon giving up. Maybe she would, but it was a dangerous assumption. Tomorrow they would have to move the camp.
CHAPTER NINE
The city of Posita
Putt sat by the fire. His back still gave him a bit of pain now and then, but it was not more than he could handle it. They had moved to a new place and had been there for a few days now. He had let his grandmother take care of his wounds, but they had hardly spoken. Somewhere inside he knew he had been mistaken, duped and done a lot of things wrong but he could not understand why the punishment had to be so severe. He was taught that everyone made mistakes and a child doing so was only natural. The result of his error did not seem natural to him.
“If I hadn’t done what I did, they would have killed you.” It was like she was reading his mind sometimes. Maybe it was all there on his face.
“You’ve told me.” He heard a sigh from across the glowing fire. A sound behind him startled him. He turned, causing pain in his back, and scanned into the darkness.
“A deer” the voice of his grandmother assured him. “If you want to see approaching danger, don’t stare into the fire first.”
“I know.” Yes, he knew. Yet, how could he keep his eyes from the fire or the glowing embers?
“Putt, we need to talk.” What was there to talk about? Or was there too much to talk about? He did not know. The world had turned into a such a strange place. Once again. Maybe it was him, an odd boy in a world that was normal to everybody else.
“Putt, I can’t have you as my apprentice.” He nodded. Putt no longer wanted to. It was a kind life he did not understand. He had been proud and excited, but the price was too high. He sensed the relief on the other side of the fire.
“But” she continued “we need to find you another apprenticeship.” Putt’s head popped up.
“Why?” he almost yelped in terror. “Why can’t I stay with you? Even if I’m not becoming a warrior, I can still follow you and help you and be with you.”
“Putt, you need to learn a profession. I’ll leave this world someday and then you must be able to support yourself. And provide for a family one day.” Grown-ups made things so complicated,
he thought. On the other hand, if his parents had been alive, he would have had this issue solved. He would have been a farmer and would not think much about the choice.
“No matter where you end up, I’ll need money to pay the master. So that’s where we’ll start. Tomorrow we leave for Posita.” Why Posita? Was there not a risk they would meet this Oon Barsate again, or her soldiers? He expressed his worry for Avia. She told him Posita was the nearest city and large enough to have options, and, which seemed the most important though she tried to mention it in passing, had their famous fightings.
“Will you bet on them?” he asked as he had a vague idea that that was what you did.
“No” she grinned at him in reply. “I’ll fight.”
“But…” He could not say it. His grandmother could get killed, fighting for money to pay his education. To pay for his failure in becoming her apprentice.
“Please, don’t” he whispered.
“We need money. Have some faith in me.” Faith? His grandmother risked to leave him alone in the world for money. The money she expressed several times she did not want or need. Now they were worth risking her life for. She risked her life to give him a future he did not ask for. All he wanted was to be with her, to grow up with her. Since his parents died, it felt like he was tumbling down a hill without the ability to stop or control what happened to him. He desperately wanted to get a firm hold of something, anything, he passed on his way down and get a stable point in his life. His hate for the constant change that was a part of Avia’s life surfaced. Not even knowing where to sleep and what to eat the next night was disturbing.
“And don’t worry about Oon and her gang. They’ve already passed us on their way back.” That was a comfort, but compared to the risk she was willing to take, bitchy Oon seemed like a tiny problem.
What did he want to do with his life? What did he want to work with? Animals maybe. He had taken care of the animals back home, and he and the mule had gone along just fine.
Caged Warrior (The Warrior and the Wizard Book 1) Page 7
