by J. E. Keep
He did well at hiding the bitterness in his voice, but she knew when he said “people” he didn’t mean nobles like her.
“Yeah, well. If you’ll remember, succeed or fail, I risked a whole hell of a lot. Including my house, and my family, and my friends. Succeed or fail, I’m left with nothing, and it was a price I paid knowing that.”
Her clear blue eyes were hard and stern, though she still didn’t move from her pinned-down spot.
Slipping the large knife into its sheath along his thigh, he shrugged his shoulders.
“Now you’re like the rest of us then,” he said dryly. “Welcome to the real world, princess. Shit sucks.” He rose up from his crouched position and she saw that standing he was just shy of six feet tall. He circled about the fire he’d set while she slept and warmed his hands.
“Fantastic,” she hissed as she rolled onto her side, her bicep acting as her pillow. “Except now I don’t even have a gang of rebels to protect me, so I’d say I’m a bit worse off.”
With a deep intake of breath he said, “Spare me the sob story, princess. Some good people gave their lives to help set us up for this plan, and all of us sacrificed a little something to make it happen. And that’s all gone up in smoke. And considering none of us had anything to spare to begin with, excuse me if I’m not too sympathetic to your plight.” He added wryly, “You’ve got misery to make up for.”
Even in her bitterness she saw the truth of it, but her face hardened to try to hide that fact from him. She pushed herself up from the cold, hard ground and moved to the fire, across from him.
“Yeah, well. There’s no turning back now.”
He studied her a moment before turning his gaze back to the fire and his hands that he twisted about it. The flames did a good job of keeping the cold chill at bay.
“That’s one thing you’ve got right at least,” he remarked. “And despite anything they might’ve told you, there’s no negotiating with them. A traitor noble counts for nothing. Any deal you might offer them they’d only break once they got what they wanted. So even if you offered them the whole Resistance on a platter, they’d take it and shoot you for thanks.”
“I lived around these people for twenty years, I know how they are. You don’t ever wonder what it was that even made me want to help you? Those people in there, they could give two shits about you, and I could have lived the same way. Been the same type as them. But I’m not. Maybe remember that when you try to tell me how shitty they are.”
“So what?” he retorted. “I should be grateful for you deciding to turn on the state and live like us plebs?” He shook his head and laughed with amusement, and though it was laced with derision she couldn’t help but notice how beautifully smooth the sound was, masculine yet pleasant. “You tried, and that’s good. But what matters in this life is results, hun. There’s no ribbon for effort out here,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders, as if the reality were beyond his control.
“I don’t need your gratitude, but I want you to remember. I could have had a nice, cushy life and never given a second thought to the dregs and fodder out here. I did. And now I’m here, on your side. Don’t act like I’m the first one in the Resistance to have fucked up and blown a shot,” she said, her voice groggy as she stared at him with her blue eyes.
He spared her a moment’s glance then undid the top button on his leather jacket, loosening the high collar just a bit as he stood before the fire. The getup he wore was riddled with straps and patches, keeping the suit in place about his leanly muscled physique.
“When we blow a shot we don’t typically get a second chance,” he said. However, after a brief pause he conceded, “Sometimes we’re fortunate like that. Though you...” He looked her over again, this time slower. This time she detected just a hint of male interest as he lingered on her figure. “You got off lucky. Don’t see a scratch on you.”
“Apparently I’m better at hiding than killing,” she hissed, her voice filled with self-loathing and regret as she drew her legs up a bit higher, feeling the heat warm her shins. “There’s not many friends in the city. Doubt there’s any I can call on to help us out.”
“There’s none,” he stated firmly. “And get that stupid train of thought out of your head right now.” He spoke like someone used to leading, though there was a special urgency to that insistence. “Anyone you used to know is a liability now. They will turn you in, because to do anything else is putting their and their loved ones’ lives and privilege at risk. You understand?” He stared at her hard. “That’s a dead avenue. We face that reality all the time. So get it through your head right the fuck now.”
She glared at him, even as she nodded and pushed herself up off the ground. Her curvaceous body glowed in the soft firelight as she began to pace.
“Well, fine, but what now, huh? I have people coming to torture and kill me, who wouldn’t think twice of taking you and tearing you into two, and you might be used to that, but I’m not. Besides, you must think I’m of some use or you would have killed me already to hide your tracks.”
“You’re the would-be assassin here, not me,” he replied immediately. Though after a moment he looked her over. “I value life, unlike most of the aristos you’re used to. Even the life of a noble... to an extent.” He flexed his fingers over the fire. “I sent the others on without me so I could see the truth of what happened. To find out whether you were on our side or not.”
To find out whether she was worth saving, was the unspoken part.
“Of course I am,” she hissed. “If not, you’d have been caught before I even woke up to you brandishing a knife at my throat.”
He shrugged his shoulders again, confirming to her that matter was done and over with. What was before him now was determining if he thought she was worth the effort and risk to save from her new exile.
“This is no small matter,” he stated simply.
“Obviously.” She paced again, her arms beneath her breasts. “Look, there’s still going to be ways to fuck them up, to make them pay,” she told herself more than him.
“There are always going to be ways to make them pay,” he said matter-of-factly, and he only seemed partially interested in her as a tool. Perhaps the handsome young rebel was interested in her human side. It was hard to say. She didn’t have experience with men — people — like him, who knew this life outside the city. Even her contacts back home had been people more akin to her, who grew up in the relative safety and order of the capital.
“Then tell me what to do,” she said, stopping and staring at him. She was the picture of royalty but for her crass tongue and her leathers. Her soft body, her slightly rounded face, those wide eyes, and sparkling blonde hair all screamed of her noble birth, but there was a glint, something not quite right behind her gaze.
He studied her for a while, those sharp, emerald eyes, almond-shaped and narrowed. It was almost like he was piercing her skin and peering into her soul.
“There’s more to this than just me. Every step of the way I take you, I put more danger on a lot of good, innocent people and other brave rebels alike. If you were in my position, what would you do, huh?”
She went silent, for she knew what she’d do, and she turned her back on him for a moment to try to hide it from that strange gaze of his. She still felt it on her back, her skin prickling, even though she knew it was all in her head.
“Look, if I need to do this on my own, I will.”
How he must’ve snuck up on her in the night and done all the things he’d accomplished remained a mystery, because without her realizing it he’d slunk up just behind her.
“You won’t last a week out here on your own. If you don’t know that yet, then I’ll have to readjust that down to two days, tops.” The words were not full of recriminations as before. Simple, sad fact.
“I’ve already made it two days,” she protested even as she jumped forward, away from the stealthy man, and felt her heart begin to race. She didn’t like someone being sneakier
than her.
“Two days on a full pack using our guidance,” he corrected her. “Now the bucketheads and worse are after you, your supplies are run low, nearly out, and you have no idea where to go from here. Don’t kid yourself or me about your chances,” he chided, a hand on his hip with the elbow cocked to the side. He brushed back some of his golden hair and it was hard not to appreciate the male beauty of the rebel despite the situation. Even those scars only seemed to enhance his looks, adding a bit of ruggedness to his smooth features.
She hated when others were right, and she could feel that pride and annoyance mix within her, but she stamped it out.
“So what, you’ll keep me around then?” She bit back her tongue as she stared at him. “Why? What do you need from me?”
“Nothing,” he said definitively, “I need nothing from you,” and the serious look on his face said he wasn’t fucking around. “If I decide to rescue you, it’s out of the kindness of my heart. Because at this point you’re not worth a damn. You don’t have any useful connections for us, you’re penniless now, and if you failed the first time you sure as hell couldn’t have a shot with taking a second attempt at taking out the Queen. Not without your pass as a noble.” He crouched down to the fire, faced away from her so that his firm rear tightly clad in leather showed. “You’re deadweight out here. And you’ll need training just to learn how to survive.”
Something about how he’d said that suggested he’d perhaps already made up his mind to help her. Though under the circumstances...
She was glad his back was turned so that she could brush away the angry tears that threatened to fall, but her voice still held that telltale quiver.
“I can still steal. Kill. Whatever. I still have value.”
“There’s no stealing from our own,” he said, crouched down, legs splayed before the fire. “You trade fairly, and you go out and get things to bring back to help everyone. Or else you make yourself very useful around the camp. There’s only one way I could think of you making yourself that useful, and you need time to learn the skills to raid or steal from the military. Otherwise you’re just throwing your life away.”
Her pale cheeks began to glow hot, and her skin prickled in anger and annoyance beneath her skin-tight leather outfit.
“Then I’ll do that,” she responded, her voice more terse than she had intended.
The mysterious rebel turned his head to the side and gazed back at her.
“That simple, huh? You were a pampered noble two days ago, and now you’d be willing to sell yourself to get by to some filthy rebel plebs?” It wasn’t the mockery she might’ve expected. It sounded like a genuine test question.
“What? Sell myself?” Her eyes widened. That was not what she’d understood him to be saying. She felt a cold chill run down her spine and her breathing picked up as she took a slow step back from him.
“I’m not some... some... whore for your friends.”
The corner of his lips screwed up and he looked at her with something akin to disappointment.
“What? You think that’s something special or odd?” He gave her an obvious once — over, sizing up her rather full figure in an attempt to goad her. “The body of a princess would probably fetch you enough to get by pretty well. As far as us plebs reckon such things, that is.”
“Oh, fantastic! A few copper for something that’d be worth a golden throne to some people.” She threw up her hands in frustration. “I can do other things rather than lie on my back and let your unwashed brethren move on me, you know.”
He rolled his eyes.
“We all can,” he said dryly. “But circumstances don’t always allow for it.”
She didn’t catch it in her rage, but he seemed to be testing her more than anything. He wanted to see how far she was willing to go to survive. And she was doing badly.
“Look.” She moved towards him, facing him directly. “I might have fucked up. I have blood on my hands, and I have nothing to go back to. I’m at your mercy, but what fucking good am I as a whore, huh? What’s this anyways? Your idea of punishing me for failing?”
The man couldn’t help but roll his eyes again at her and brush some of his golden hair back.
“What? You think you’re special?” He snorted in amusement, which seemed so uncharacteristic of the handsome man, perhaps done just to show his derision at her outrage. “I’ve done it before. Why? Because I had to. That’s all there is to it. I want to survive. You only seem to want to survive if it’s done the way you like it. Well, let me clue you in, princess,” — his voice had risen and grown harder — “out here we don’t get that luxury. Nobody lays out the velvet rug for our survival. You fucking do what you have to, and you don’t regret it, because there’s no damn time for regrets.”
It was quite likely she’d never been spoken to so roughly before, because her face tightened and her jaw clenched, her face going red. Regret and anguish were behind her eyes as they narrowed and twitched.
“I want to survive,” she hissed. “I’m just saying, I have more to offer than a simple whore. I’m not going to spend my life just having sex with strangers.”
He rose up and said simply, “Idiot.” He pulled some piece of fabric out of his pocket. “You just don’t fucking get it. You’ve been pampered all your life, and you just don’t understand how the world works for the bulk of us, do you?” He shook his head, a slight sneer on his face. “You’d never survive with that kind of attitude out here. And I thought you’d be worth saving.”
“Why, because I think I can actually do something to help you? Because I think I can do something worthwhile?” Her eyes burned with anger and panic, her hand reaching out to grab his bicep. “Look! I was to be married off in a month’s time, right? Do you get that?”
He gave a stern look to her as she grasped him, displeased with her touching him. As if she were the filthy peasant laying a hand on a noble.
“And what? So you’ve run off to get out of some arranged marriage? Please, give me a break.” He yanked his arm from her grasp. “Out here it’s not always a matter of what you’re best at. It often comes down to any act of desperation you can do to keep going another day longer. Y’hear me there, princess?”
She quaked in anger, her eyes staring at him so hard it felt like she could burn him with that alone.
“I’m going to survive,” she hissed, her voice trembling with her attempt to hold herself back from doing something she’d regret.
“Well, you could’ve fooled me,” he said plainly and pulled the dark flap of material over his head, showing it to be some mask to cover up his golden features and long hair. He began to walk off into the woods. “I don’t waste my time training brats who’ll turn up their nose every time they have to roll in the mud to get the job done.”
“Oh, when are you going to get the time training me to fucking raid when you’re too busy teaching me how to spread my legs, huh?” She chased after him for a few steps. “Who’s to say you won’t just figure I’m better suited to that? Then leave me to waste away?” She couldn’t help it, and the proud noblewoman began to sob. It was all too much for her, and her entire body was trembling. “Don’t leave me!”
He was out of her sight, but she heard his voice come back through as if not far away. “If you need training on how to spread those thighs of yours, you’re more hopeless than I feared.”
He was gone, it seemed. Though she noticed, even in her anguish, that his voice hadn’t receded as he talked.
“Yeah, well, I know a lot more about stealing than about how to do that!” She twirled around at the nothingness, her ponytailed hair smacking her in the cheek as she stopped, trying to catch her balance.
There came no answer. Nothing. The forest returned to its normal quiet, and the fire, she noticed, had already died down low, nearly gone out. Sunrise wasn’t far off, she realized, some birds beginning to chirp, but she no longer heard or sensed his presence near her.
She toppled, exhaustion and fear mak
ing her land hard into the dirt. Sharp pain traveled up through her knees, and she sobbed into her hands. For the first time, the direness of her situation truly struck her, and terror gripped her heart.
She was alone.
Chapter 5 – The Matron
War raged all across the continent, from the deserts of the south to the cold arctic chill of the north. Though both sides struggled to maintain a defensive line along that entire frontier, at the ends it frayed. The near so-called “Endless Trench” became a broken line in the southern deserts, and in the north became little more than scattered outposts.
After centuries of war neither side could afford to maintain a strong presence in either area. The occasional attempt to bypass enemy lines by going through the poorly defended climates was usually self-defeating, leaving at best a scraggly, diminished force that was driven out immediately.
Not that such lessons ever lasted long as new generals and marshals on either side took over with the naive vigor of a new generation pushing them.
Spring was on its way, but on the cold plateau above, one could hardly imagine that. The permafrost there kept it a white dome year-round. Though from the edge of it a green-grey Kron stood in white furs, peering out over the edge into the brown-and-green lands below.
The Kron men ranged from squat sub-five-foot grunts to towering goliaths, and at nearly six and a half feet tall he was at the extreme end. Despite the chill, the furs covered only the Kron’s shoulders, and draped about his legs in a kilt, leaving much of his bulky muscular form on display to the blowing snow.
Satisfied with his search, Saghar turned, a steel staff in hand fashioned from human piping with an ornate assemblage of bones and fetishes at the top. Kron were known by humans as primitive, superstitious monsters that believed in mysticism, and dressed in his scant furs with a witch doctor’s staff, he looked the role.
The snow crunched beneath his feet as he approached a pair — one of which was even bigger than him — of huddled figures in heavy, covering clothes. He didn’t say anything to them, just jerked his wide jaw northwest along the plateau then began to lead them. He wore his black hair in a single braid down his neck and spine which swayed with the wind as he guided them to a cave, which descended into the plateau itself and out of the harsh winds above.
