《Voracity》


 Chapter 1: A Wonder

    Chapter 1:


    It was a jostling of his shoulder that stirred the man from his deep thoughts. He rose his head from its downward cast to level his stoic gaze at the woman riding abreast of him.


    ¡°Are you even listening to me, Colt?¡± She wore a frustrated expression upon her face that showed she had been trying, and failing, to capture his wandering attention.


    He ignored her question, instead, noticing the distance between their horses she had closed to grab his shoulder. He eyeballed the ugly foot or so of empty space with disapproval and the barest of scowls. ¡°Don¡¯t ride so close, Sonya. You¡¯ll spook my horse.¡± He used her name dryly so she might better heed his words and stared back into the abyss to find his thoughts once more.


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re cheery this morning," Sonya huffed as she gently tugged the reins of her horse to guide it away from his. ¡°I think, when we get to town, I¡¯ll buy you a good whore to fuck away that bad attitude that¡¯s crept into you today,¡± she said with a chuckle that threatened to escape her fresh grin but a cupped hand over her mouth discouraged it. Colt knew she would follow through on her comment though despite her apparent enjoyment at its offering. She¡¯d done it before several times.


    Finally grabbing his interest, he lifted his cold eyes to her. ¡°Just make sure she¡¯s worth more than four copper pieces this time.¡± He voiced it with a grumble while he brandished the backs of four colossal fingers at her, the nails and grooves of his skin filled with dirt from their travels.


    ¡°What about me? Can a girl have some copper for herself and her indulgences as well?¡± A playful, almost hungry grin danced across her face, and it only earned her a raised eyebrow from the burly man. She was joking of course. Sonya hated buying pleasure.


    ¡°Since when did you¡­¡± the man started but let the question die on his lips. His brow furrowed. ¡°You grew up too fast. I¡¯d strangle any man who touched you.¡± Colt dug his heels into the sides of his horse to quicken its trot, wanting to distance himself from the inevitable reply.


    ¡°Good thing I prefer to do the touching!¡± The woman called after him as she did the same to match his pace.


    ¡°I pray to Ovaro you¡¯re joking,¡± he said through gritted teeth.


    Sonya dawned a mask of false shock ¡°You pray? I had no idea you were such a man of faith.¡± She tried to cover another bout of laughter afterward and almost succeeded. They came out as snorts as she tightened her lips.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be a fucking smartass, girl.¡± He tried his best to remain indifferent, but his obvious frustration broke her. She let flow all the laughter she had forced down and clutched her sides as it rolled out. If there was anything she loved, it was ruffling this man¡¯s feathers. Colts¡¯ brow tightened only slightly along with a subtle scrunching of the rest of his face as he endured Sonya¡¯s enjoyment at his expense.


    The fit of giggling carried far enough to catch the attention of a young boy working the stables at the head of the town they had just ridden into. He turned and, seeing the opportunity to make himself some coin, changed his expression from one of curiosity to that of excitement.


    ¡°Hitch up ya¡¯ horse for ya¡¯, sir?¡± The boy asked earnestly after running up to them.


    Colt pulled on the reins and stopped as he looked down at the shabby youth. He was a short thing with a sweat-covered shirt and muddy pants he had long grown too big for. His greasy blond hair hung low enough to almost obscure his vision and smudges of dirt populated his face.


    ¡°How much coin are you asking for, lad?¡± Colt questioned as he stared down at the boy.


    ¡°One coppa'' each, sir.¡± The boy spat to the side and hooked his thumbs into the waist of his trousers to show his firm stance on the meager price.


    Colt swung a leg over the back of his horse and stepped down into the shallow mud that caked the hoof-beaten road running through the town. He tossed him 4 copper pieces and the kid greedily snatched at them in the air, managing to catch them all.


    ¡°Feed them, wash them. You understand me, boy?¡±


    The whelp didn¡¯t say a word. He just nodded and grabbed the reins from the two travelers and guided the horses to the stable to be tended to.


    ¡°I¡¯d kill for a hot bath right about now,¡± Sonya moaned as she threw her hands behind her head to rest on the back of her neck. The hood of her cloak was down so she could look up towards the sky and she watched as the recently emptied clouds drifted across the blue, her fingers took turns absently flicking at her ponytail. The silky length of hair swung back and up with each impact and almost seemed to dance in the air before making its swaying descent back down towards the next waiting finger.


    ¡°You think the inns in this shithole have hot water?¡± It wasn¡¯t a question he expected an answer to. Looking down, he pulled the brim of his hood down further over his face and watched as his feet kicked up mud that soiled the edges of his cloak.


    ¡°Did you sleep on a fucking rock last night? Why are you being such a prick this morning?¡± The childishness that had plagued her voice up to this point vanished, replaced by a sharp edge that cut.


    ¡°You know why, damnit. We were only supposed to grab the gold. Nothing else.¡± Colt held out his hand and wore a stern expression, his eyes boring into hers. ¡°Give it to me. Now.¡±


    Sonya crossed her arms on her chest and glared at him defiantly, but only for a moment. She knew she wouldn¡¯t win this one. Her hand dropped into a pouch tied to her belt, fingers rummaging around through its contents until they pulled out a golden hairpin. Its brilliantly polished surface caught the sun and threw a sparkle into Colt¡¯s eyes, and she flicked it with a thumb through the air at him. He caught it without breaking away from her gaze.


    Once he had it, he held it up to his face and gave it a good look. It was a beautifully crafted piece of jewelry bearing the crest of the royal family of Corvallia. Sonya saw it as a prize, but he saw it as a liability. This identified them as the thieves who plundered a royal stagecoach a few days ago bound for the capital. They didn¡¯t need this kind of attention. He jammed it into his own pouch at his waist.


    "At least get something for it," Sonya moaned. She crossed her arms and grumbled in displeasure at having been relieved of her trophy.


    "Are you kidding me? What in this town is possibly worth a hunk of gold and silver such as this?" He patted the pouch at his side in gesture. "We could get the whole shop in town for what it¡¯s worth."


    Sonya clasped her hands together and begged. "Will you let me pick out a few things at least? I''ll be good I promise, Colt." She stuck out her lower lip and pouted.


    Colt sighed with a hand on his face. "You''re lucky to get the butter on the bread I give you with the way you act, woman," he growled. Colt had put up with this for years and still had no idea how he did it.


    "That''s because you care about me so much, " she said with a grin that cascaded across her face as she brought her hands back up behind her head once more and exaggerated every one of her strides with her short but slender legs.


    They rounded the corner into what passed for a market in the little town. People moved from stall to stall, coin was exchanged, and merchandise traded hands. For such a place, it was busy, but not a crowd you could get lost in.


    Halfway up the street on the right, Colt pointed out a two-story building with the words GENERAL GOODS painted in worn white letters above the door. "I''m going to head in there and exchange this mistake you made for supplies." He said it to sting her, but it didn¡¯t even tickle, and he knew it. She moved on too quickly. In this case, though, that was a blessing. He didn''t want to deal with her whining any longer than he had to.


    "As long as you get me something with sugar while you''re in there." When she said it, her voice was as sweet as honey. Colt groaned as he turned towards the shop and walked away.


    Sonya stood on the corner and waited. She kicked a rock from one foot to the other and began to whistle to herself as the minutes passed. Soon she started to watch the people go about their day-to-day business, noticing more than a handful of opportunities to pickpocket a few of them, but restrained herself, the effort of which was a challenge in and of itself for her.


    Suddenly her instincts kicked in and her senses narrowed as she felt someone running up from behind her. With her head turned she spotted a man out of the corner of her eye as he tripped and began a descent towards the dirt. With reflexes that could complete with a bolt of lightning, her hand shot out to rest a palm against his chest to stop his fall, and with hidden strength, pushed him back upright again. Sonya turned to him with a smart remark about to break past her lips but stopped when she got a good look at him.


    He was a whole head taller than she was, and that was being generous. His short, light brown hair was swept to the side in a style that was above his station and two piercing blue eyes stared down at her with a look of fading surprise that soon melted into appreciation. He had a sharp nose set above a pair of fair lips framed by a strong chin and jaw. The man was lean too. She saw it in his arms and felt it in his chest too when she had caught him.


    Well, well. You are just my type, Sonya said to herself as she bit her lip. Her eyes ate at him; all of him. The man noticed her appetite and took a hesitant step backward, his smile changing from that of appreciation to one of nervousness.


    "Um..." he began, clearing that nervousness from his throat, "thank you very much for the help." He coughed into a fist.


    Sonya took a bold step forward to take the space he had given her and placed a finger on his chest, tracing circles there and smirking up at him. "It''s no trouble at all," she cooed. "But we do need to work out what you owe me for the assistance." As she said it the rest of her fingers joined the one already placed there, and she spread them out to plant her palm there once more. She could tell he was uncomfortable, and she was loving it.


    "I''m sorry, miss. My gratitude is all I can afford." A bead of sweat formed on his brow as his neck and cheeks flushed red.


    Wow. Cute, shy, and well-spoken. Where have you been, you delicious thing? She locked eyes with him. "What''s your name? At least offer a girl that much." Her stare cut into him, making him all the more nervous.


    "It''s Thomas, miss. And you are..."


    "Oh, that''s not how this works, honey. When you learn my name, you''re going to be saying it over, and over, and over again." With each repetition, she inched her lips closer and closer to his ear. Her closeness almost made him stumble backward and trip over himself. Sonya giggled at his cute clumsiness.


    "I''m sorry, miss, but I really have to go now." He began to skirt around her, but her palm remained where it was as she turned to face him where he went. When he had reached the other side of her, he paused. They stared at one another for a short while, predator and prey, until Sonya tented her fingers on his chest and pushed him away.


    "Fine, but don''t go far, Thomas.'' She winked. "I want to be able to find you later." With this, he gave a quick, nervous smile that vanished as fast as it had appeared. When he turned to walk away, Sonya gave him a good swat on the ass that made him jump. Thomas made his way hastily towards the general store without looking back. Sonya couldn''t help but laugh into her hands as she watched him scurry off.


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    Just as the man entered the store, Sonya saw Colt pass him on his way out. He made his way to her with a pack slung over his shoulder and stopped a few feet away, confused by her giddiness.


    "What happened to you?" He asked, puzzled.


    Sonya laced her fingers behind her back. "Just had my fun," she replied with a grin, "but I think I might want to go for round two." She glanced back in the direction Thomas had gone and she almost licked her lips. She knew she had been rough on the guy, but it had been hard to resist.


    Colt¡¯s mouth curled up into the barest of smirks. "That was too quick for a bout of pleasure, girly. I''m disappointed. I hope you didn''t have to pay."


    The woman¡¯s jaw nearly dropped. "Did you just make a joke? You?" She was stunned. "What perked you up while you were in there?"


    The burly man hefted the sack he had up higher on his shoulder. "I found a nice gift for my boy back home. Turned out to be a good day." His smirk, which had been undetectable, almost turned into a genuine smile. A rare thing indeed.


    "And the day will only get better! Let''s go get you your fun." The enthusiasm in her voice was radiant. Colt gave a small chuckle as his partner slapped him on the back. They made their way to the inn across the street. "And I''ll make sure to spend a whole silver piece on a good woman for you this time around."


    Colt almost choked. "A whole silver? Are you mad? No woman is worth a silver lying on her back! No more than ten copper, you hear?" He said this with a meaty finger in her face as they climbed the steps to the deck of the inn. "And you know what I like. Go find me a good one." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "After you do you can go out and have your...round two." This last bit was hard for him to spit out, but he managed.


    With a bounce she gracefully cleared the half dozen or so steps they had climbed and twirled on a heel in the dirt back to face him, bursting with energy. "I''ll send one up faster than you can take your pants off, boss." Sonya turned and made her way back through the market with Colt left shaking his head and sighing in front of the inn.


    They grow up so fast, he thought. He was so proud. The giant of a man placed a big, calloused hand upon the worn wood of the door and strode inside.


    . . .


    Thomas opened the door to the general store to find a large, cloaked man staring down at him, his eyes glaring at him from the darkness thrown by his drawn hood.


    "You''re in my way, boy." The man¡¯s voice was deep and reeked of command. "Move."


    With only a moment¡¯s hesitation, Thomas stepped to the side to let the stranger pass by. He stayed and watched for a second as the man descended the steps then turned and walked into the shop, the door creaked shut behind him.


    "Thomas, my boy!" The shopkeeper called out to him across the store. "Come in, come in! Aimee is just upstairs." He turned around to return some goods to their proper place on the shelf behind him.


    Thomas crossed the floor to the front counter, happy to be in the company of a familiar face after the two strange encounters he had just had. Maybe not totally strange, but definitely strange for this little town.


    "How''s business, Mr. Westler?" He was fidgeting with the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt. Not because of the overly forward woman he had met outside, but from the simple fact that he knew just above him, on the second floor, was Aimee. He swallowed the lump in his throat.


    "Business is business, lad." He knelt behind the counter and reached deep into its depths for a moment. When he surfaced, he had a spark of wonder in his eyes. "But I did recently acquire something most curious." He placed atop the wooden counter a hairpin. It was a gorgeous piece wrought of gold and silver. Within its interwoven curls of precious metals was the royal crest; a triangle crossed with a sword, an arrow, and a rose.


    "Where did you get this, Mr. Westler?" Thomas was dumbstruck. He has never seen so much wealth in one place before.


    Mr. Westler held up a hand in protest. "First of all, Thomas. We''ve known each other for years now and I do insist you call me Don." Thomas nodded, hearing him but unable to tear his eyes from the pin resting on the counter. "And second," he continued," I got it from that mountain of a man that almost made you wet yourself on the way in." Don chuckled at this last bit. So did Thomas, if only to go along with Don in his apparent enjoyment at Thomas''s expense.


    "What did he ask for in return?" Asked Thomas.


    "He asked me what I thought it was worth and after verifying its authenticity I told him he could leave with just about anything he wanted."


    Thomas looked around at the fully stocked shelves. "I wouldn¡¯t say you''ve been picked clean, Mr...I mean, Don."


    Don gave a little laugh. "That''s the strange thing about it all. He only grabbed the essentials. Traveling gear, various accouterments, food, and the like." He placed his chin between his thumb and forefinger, thinking. "Oh, and a lovely wood carving of a horse my dear Aimee made."


    Thomas smiled. He knew Aimee¡¯s carvings well. She''d been getting better and better over the years. Often, he''d come by and see her sitting in a chair on the porch whittling away to find some new beast she knew was hiding within the grain of the wood. His smile deepened. Any thought of Aimee made him smile. Lately, she had been the only thing on his mind. The thought of her was inescapable.


    Don saw Thomas''s attention shift to the pin once more once he had broken from his thoughts. "Yes, it''s a pretty little thing indeed." He remarked.


    "What are you going to do with it?"


    "Well, I''m going to have to sell it. I parted with a fair amount of supplies in exchange for this wonder." He seemed morose as he said this.


    A brightness lit Thomas''s eyes. He slammed his palm flat on the counter and determination washed his features. "Mr. Westler...Don, sir. Allow me to pay for the hairpin. I¡¯ll give you all the coin I have saved up and I''ll work here in the shop for free as long as you need me to." He dropped his voice despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins and leaned in slightly. "I think this would make more than a perfect gift for Aimee''s birthday."


    Don lifted an eyebrow as he considered this. His daughter was quite fond of the Holy Family, whose crest was so delicately formed of gold and silver on the pin. It would indeed make a fine gift for her. Also, though, he recognized that Thomas could hardly afford such an expense, even with long hours of work piled on top of his savings. He was prepared to make a sacrifice though, for his daughter and the good lad in front of him.


    The anticipation was making Thomas sweat as he waited for Mr. Westler''s answer. He continued to stare at Aimee''s father, never breaking. Don on the other hand was flicking his eyes from Thomas to the hairpin, and back to Thomas again.


    ¡°No, Thomas, I don¡¯t think that would be appropriate.¡± He watched as the boys¡¯ features sagged with disappointment. Don let the moment stretch out a little longer before continuing. "Seven silver and nine copper," Don finally said, his gaze settled on Thomas after taking another peek at the pin.


    Thomas was confused. He gave his head a little shake and blinked a few times to clear the look he had been displaying. ¡°Excuse me, Don. I think I¡¯ve missed something. Seven silver and nine copper for what?¡± His confusion never left him, however.


    ¡°I thought about it, and I think it would be most beneficial to all parties involved if you simply paid for the mans¡¯ supplies instead of the pin. It would be a financial load off your young shoulders, a wonderful gift for my girl, and a pleasure to me knowing I had a part in this. I can suffer the loss of extra income. It won¡¯t mar my business one bit.¡±


    Thomas was shocked. This was the last thing he expected. Everything seemed to have fallen neatly into place. It was almost too good to be true. He stuck out his hand with a huge grin on his face. Don took it and shook firmly, matching his smile.


    "Seems we have an accord, my dear boy."


    Just then Thomas heard footsteps coming down the stairs beyond the counter. Without a thought, he grabbed at the pin desperately and slipped it into his pocket. Right at that very moment, an absolute vision of loveliness traversed the last few steps and arrived at the landing at the bottom. Aimee stood there with her deep blue eyes drinking up Thomas''s lighter blue ones. She wore her waist-length hair in a single braid and her cute lips formed a smile that made the man melt inside.


    They stood for a while, lost in each other. Both were nervously fidgeting with whatever was close at hand. For Aimee, it was her braid which she had pulled over her shoulder to hang down her chest and for Thomas, it was the pin in his pocket. He turned it end over end between his fingers. The moment was only broken by Aimee''s father who cleared his throat and looked at both in turn.


    "Hello, Aimee," Thomas gulped. He took a shaky step forward, removing his hand from his pocket and the pin. He brought it up slightly as if to touch her but dropped it halfway through the motion and met it with his other to hang in front of him. He couldn''t believe how much he was stumbling. he could barely get the words out.


    "Hello to you too, Thomas." She took two long strides towards him, clearing the landing and walking past the counter. Thomas felt a steady heat rising from his chest, his heartbeat quickened.


    Again, there was silence. Mr. Westler rolled his eyes this time. "As much as I adore the sight of love blossoming, I must insist that you go about your chores, dear." He pushed up his glasses which had slid down to the tip of his nose and crossed his arms.


    Aimee spun around with frightening speed and glared at her father, face turning red from both anger and embarrassment. Thomas, broken from his stupor, shuffled about from foot to foot for a moment, and his head turned back to the door not once, but twice.


    "I really must be going anyway, Mr...Don...Aimee." He flushed before heading for the door across the room, Aimee shaking a finger at her father as he left.


    . . .


    Aimee crossed her arms across her chest and bore into her father with a fire in her eyes. She had finished berating him, for now. Ever since the nervous tension between Thomas and her started her father had noticed. It wasn''t a particularly hard thing to miss. It was when he had seen no progress being made between the two of them that Don had begun to poke and prod their affairs to do his best to move things along. He liked Thomas. He thought he was a good man, and he knew he''d be good for Aimee.


    Don looked at his daughter over the frame of his glasses with a little smile upon his face, arms crossed, mimicking Aimee in every way save for her sour demeanor. It didn''t take long. She eased and her arms fell to her sides. Aimee looked defeated, and she was. In more ways than one.


    "Come, come, dear," her father advancing and taking her into his arms, "everything will be right as rain." He grabbed her chin gently and tilted her head up to have her meet his gaze. "I can assure you that what you''re experiencing isn''t easy. I must say I was as smooth as a rusty horseshoe around your mother when I first met her." He chuckled and cleared his throat. "Which is to say, not at all."


    Aimee pushed away from him slightly. ¡°Well, what happened? Who was the first to¡­you know?¡± She made a gesture to accompany the question then started absently rubbing her hand.


    ¡°Ah yes,¡± Don said, a sniffle and a tear both escaping him. Not a tear of sadness, but of remembrance. Aimee placed a comforting hand on her fathers¡¯ arm, which he covered with his own hand. ¡°That was actually your mother.¡±


    Aimee was more than surprised. Her face was awash with the expression. ¡°No! Mother?¡± It was almost a gasp. Like Aimee, her mother had been a woman of deep faith and was always appropriate regardless of the occasion. The thought of her being so forward was an image she couldn¡¯t quite form in her mind.


    ¡°Yes, yes. Every time we would cross paths I would choke up and nearly stumble over myself.¡± He pushed his glasses up his nose with a finger again. ¡°Then one day she cornered me.¡± Don clenched his hands into fists in emphasis. ¡°She stood up on her toes to better match my height and leaned into me with a finger jabbing into my chest and said ¡®Donald Arthur Westler. You are taking me out on the lake in your fathers¡¯ boat tonight and I don¡¯t want to hear a single word against it. I¡¯m quite tired of you clamming up when you see me so consider this my effort in reeling you in.¡¯ And that was all it took.¡±


    Aimee put a hand up to her open mouth to hide her shock at hearing about her mother''s brashness. ¡°What did you say?¡±


    ¡°Well, naturally I was absolutely terrified. Of course, I said yes without hesitation. I even added a ma¡¯am to the end of it. To be honest I think I would have been more comfortable at the sharp end of a knife than at the receiving end of your mother¡¯s ire.¡± That last bit threw things off. There was an awkward stillness in the air that seemed to last far too long. Neither said a word, but they both found their gaze had drifted down to the hard, wooden floor of the shop.


    Her father coughed then eased himself down onto the stool behind him, wiping his now sweaty palms on his pants. ¡°I¡¯m¡­I¡¯m sorry, dear. That¡¯s enough for today. Why don¡¯t you go on the deck and whittle away at a fine piece of cherry?¡± He gestured to a small stack of wooden blocks in the corner they had for her carvings.


    Aimee stood there vacantly for only a moment, rolling the fabric of her dress between her fingers, then hastily grabbed a chunk of wood and the knife resting beside the pile and headed for the door.


    ¡°And, dear,¡± her father said as she reached for the handle. She turned to face him. ¡°I love you very, very much.¡± Another tear grew in his eye. This one was of sadness. ¡°And so did she.¡±


    Aimee turned back to the door after a pause and walked out, trying her best to put the thought of a knife''s potential to steal a life out of her mind. The fact that she clutched one in a white-knuckled grip did little to help. Also, the blood. So much blood. That memory needed to go too. The whittling would help as it always did, even if that help was proving less effective with every passing day. She sat in her usual spot on the far end of the deck in a rocking chair. She brought the knife up to the block and began to shave away at it to free the little wooden bear she saw trapped within the chunk through eyes rapidly filling with tears. They rolled down her cheeks and fell on her hands and in her lap to join the discarded wood shavings.

 Chapter 2: Slow and Steady

    Chapter 2:


    It wasn''t until she made the attempt, that Sonya realized how hard it would be to find a decent whore in a small town like this one. Normally there was one or two hanging around the side streets in most of the cities in Corvallia, but not here. She''d ask about a brothel but doubted this place had one. She decided to try her luck at the local drink house, of which there was only one.


    Sonya made her way down the street to a building she spied with a crudely painted picture of a mug of ale on display above the entrance. She strode up to the door of the nameless hole-in-the-wall joint and shoved open the door. The resulting bang captured the attention of most inside, the rest too drunk to notice. Sonya walked up to the bar, tipping the hat of a man she walked past so it slid down to cover his eyes. He barely took notice of it, too invested in his frothy beverage to care. He simply righted the hat again during a messy sip that found most of its way down the front of his shirt and not down his throat.


    "You old enough to be in my bar?" The tender asked as Sonya leaned on the counter with an elbow, her chin resting in her hand.


    "Just barely, old man," she replied looking up at him. The man''s hair was short and receding and he wore a scowl under a flat, squashed nose. "Besides, I''m not here for drinks, I''m here for women." She shook the bag of coin at her hip.


    The man rose an eyebrow and looked her up and down. Sonya was short with blonde hair the color of gold tied back in a ponytail. Her face was short and pretty, each feature delicate. Pouty lips smiled up at him under a slender nose topped with rich, hazel eyes.


    "You should be chargin'', not payin''." It didn¡¯t come out as flirtatious.


    "I''ll be sure to keep that in mind," she said in reply. "Now, show me to the women I know you have for hire around here or I''ll take my business elsewhere."


    The man belted out a hearty laugh. "There is nowhere else, sweetheart." He nodded towards the back corner of the room. "Those three over there. Whoever you take better not come back bloodied."


    "They yours then?" Sonya questioned looking over at them.


    ¡°No, I just look after em''. Their coin is their own."


    Sonya nodded thoughtfully. "Self-employed whores. I like it." The smile on her face was unmistakable. She appreciated a woman who could make her own fortune, however it had to be done.


    Without turning back to the barkeep, she flipped the man a copper piece and pushed herself up from the counter. She resisted the urge to tip the drunk man¡¯s hat a second time as she crossed the room, halfway across which she grabbed and dragged a chair behind her the rest of the way. The resounding scraping and squealing of wood on wood once again earned her the looks of most inside. She loved the attention.


    Sitting in the chair backwards with her head resting on her crossed arms on the chairs back, she took in the sight of the three women. All but one seemed conscious. The whore on the far left was slack-jawed and about to fall over in her seat.


    "What''s wrong with her?" Sonya tilted her head in the girl¡¯s direction.


    The one in the middle answered after exhaling a thick plume of smoke from a cigarette. The smell of tobacco was overwhelming. "She had a cheek full of kasha root not half an hour ago. If she ends up working tonight, she won¡¯t know it." She took another drag as the woman on the right snorted with laughter.


    "Lucky for you two then. I won''t need her. I''m looking for someone who¡¯ll stay conscious during tonight¡¯s fun. My boss is a hungry man."


    "That''s unfortunate. I was hoping for the touch of a woman tonight," the woman on the right said as she bit her lip at Sonya.


    "Flattered, but I''m looking for my entertainment elsewhere tonight." The run-in with Thomas earlier in the day flashed through her mind. "Now who''s up for a night of fucking?" Both the women raised their hands. "It''s settled then. I''ll take you both," she said rising from her chair. Neither of them were quite what Colt was looking for, but combined they''d do just fine.


    ¡°Where we goin''?" This was from the one surrounded in smoke. She coughed into a fist.


    "The inn up the street. Ask for the room with the big scary guy. I''d take you but I have things to do. You''ll get paid in the morning."


    "Is he rough?" Asked the snorter.


    "No more so than a kitten," assured Sonya. "He''ll treat you like a princess. Now get going. He''s waiting for his relief." Sonya watched them leave then turned to the remaining girl. She had started to drool, and her head hung lazily down on her chest. Sonya was surprised she hadn¡¯t fallen over yet.


    She headed for the door herself. As she walked past the counter, she bounced a copper piece off its ugly surface. The coin flipped through the haze of the smokey room and was swiped out of midair by the barkeep.


    ¡°That¡¯s for the sad thing unconscious in the back. Make sure she doesn¡¯t spend it on fucking kasha,¡± she said with distaste. The man nodded and pocketed the coin.


    Before she left, Sonya looked one final time at the back corner. The whores¡¯ face rested flat on the table she was at, each shallow breath making bubbles in her pooled saliva. Sonya sighed and walked out.


    The sun was low in the sky and shined in her eyes across the tops of the rickety buildings across the street from her. The town was bathed in the fading orange of evening light which cast long shadows off everything it touched. Sonya wove her fingers together over her head and stretched. Several things popped and she moaned in pleasure.


    Time to go find my plaything. Sonya took a deep breath of the fresh air and hopped off the deck of the bar. She made her way down the main street where the market stalls were beginning to close for the night. Most of the townspeople had gone home and the streets were more or less empty.


    She headed down the strip past empty stalls and saw only a couple people, all heading home. She didn¡¯t know why she was even trying to find the man from earlier. She doubted he¡¯d still be out and about at this hour. Sonya stopped and leaned up again the side of a fruit stand that sat at the head of a back alley and looked down the street one way, then the other.


    No Thomas.


    Sonya was about to turn for the general store to continue her search when she a shuffling behind her. A quiet sound that hinted at attempted secrecy. She slowly dropped a hand to the hilt of a long dagger strapped horizontally to the back of her waist and waited. She made no other movements. The scrape of a knife leaving its scabbard presented itself to her ears and soon the metal tip she had envisioned in her mind gently pressed into the small of her back. She didn¡¯t move but she remained calm and confident.


    ¡°Now, now. What¡¯s a dainty thing like you doing out all alone?¡± The voice was weaselly and Sonya could smell rot on the stranger¡¯s breath.


    ¡°I¡¯m a big girl. I can handle myself.¡± She replied with the tiniest of smiles.


    ¡°Is that a fact? Well, a big girl is bound to have some coin on her.¡± He uttered a short chuckle. ¡°And a nice cunt to go with it I bet.¡± He placed a gnarled hand on her ass and began to squeeze.


    In a blink, Sonya¡¯s leg coiled and shot out with monstrous force, striking the man in the knee with a loud crack. It bent out at an unnatural angle. A shriek of pure surprise and agony erupted from the man¡¯s mouth as he went down. Planting her foot back in the dirt, Sonya reached around and wrapped her arm around the strangers¡¯ neck as he fell, and she rolled his body over her thigh. She held him here by the throat in the crook of her elbow as he clawed at her arm and his good leg spasmodically kicked around in the dirt. Soon his struggles lessened and eventually he was out cold.


    After dragging him down the alley from which he had emerged, Sonya took what coin he had on him. She almost walked away but instead turned back and, in a sudden fit of rage, kicked out what teeth remained in his mouth with her heel. She brought it down onto the bloody maw two more times, hard. His head snapped to the side with the force and a hearty spray of blood and teeth painted the dirt beyond him.


    ¡°Fucking asshole,¡± she muttered, an almost shaky quality to her words. ¡°If you had left my ass alone you would have been about to chew tonight.¡± She spat on his unconscious face and, as an afterthought, drove her foot into his groin three times for good measure as hard as she could. He¡¯d feel it when he came to. Sonya didn¡¯t mind thieves, crooks, or criminals. She was one. What she loathed more than anything was men like him. Hopefully spitting and pissing blood for a week would make him rethink his methods, although she doubted it.


    Now, in a foul mood, Sonya decided to call it a night. Her appetite had been spoiled and she just wanted to lie down and rest. She pulled her cloak tightly around herself to ward off an oncoming shiver and made her way towards the inn, all the while praying Colt had the foresight to get her her own room. Yet another thing she doubted.


    . . .


    The sun was just throwing the last of its light across the town when Thomas walked through the front door to his house, the smell of a stew drifting into his nose. Hints of rabbit, potatoes, carrots, and various herbs and spices danced with his sense of smell.


    ¡°Mother, I¡¯m home!¡± He called out as he sat on a stool by the door and pulled off his muddy boots. His mother came into view from the other room wiping her hands with a cloth.


    ¡°Oh good. You¡¯re home. Set the bread on the table and we¡¯ll eat.¡±


    Thomas froze. He had completely forgotten the real reason he had gone to the general store. His hand moved down to trace the outline of the pin through the cloth of his pants pocket. He cursed himself, yet again, for getting distracted so easily. He felt like he shouldn¡¯t blame himself so harshly though. Aimee was indeed a natural at stealing his attention. The thought brought a brief smile to his face, and he grew warm inside.


    His mother noticed his sudden vacancy and startled him when she was suddenly by his side resting a hand atop his shoulder. Thomas gave the smallest of shudders before looking at her. He had been so lost in his own mind that he failed to notice her approach.


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    She smiled up at him lovingly. She was a hair shorter than he was and seemed even more so now due to a slight hunch she had adopted. Her dark brown hair had started to grey, and her face had begun to show lines of wisdom that crisscrossed her features.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, mother. I forgot the bread,¡± he confessed. ¡°In my defense, I¡¯ve had a very strange day.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s alright, dear. Stew is still stew without bread.¡± She patted his shoulder then shuffled back to the kitchen where a pot hung over a fire, her hand pressed to the small of her back the whole way.


    Last year she had been thrown from one of their horses and she still hadn¡¯t recovered fully. Thomas knew she never would. His mother, on the other hand, held onto hope and constantly spoke of a future where she once again would have the strength to fend and care for herself. Until that nonexistent day, Thomas had and would take care of her.


    Thomas followed her after stowing his boots away in the corner and when he entered the kitchen, he saw his mother spooning stew into a bowl from a heavy cast-iron cooking pot. He rushed over to relieve her of the burden that she apparently thought she could handle despite her struggle to hold it up long enough.


    ¡°Mother, please sit down. I can take care of this.¡± He took over the duty of serving the meal.


    ¡°Oh, Tom. You¡¯re such a sweet boy.¡± With a frail touch she gently patted the hand of his that held up the pot by its handle and eased herself down into one of the chairs at the table with a slight groan.


    ¡°So you keep telling me,¡± he said smiling, then seated himself as well after returning the pot to the fire.


    ¡°I keep telling you because it continues to be true.¡± His mother put extra emphasis into this nugget of truth. She slurped a large spoonful of stew and let out a satisfied sigh at its rich flavor. ¡°Don¡¯t ever change, dear. You¡¯re a gem of a son, and you¡¯ll make an excellent husband for Aimee.¡± She tried to add that last part in casually, but Thomas still almost choked on a chunk of rabbit meat regardless as he ate.


    ¡°Mother! Not you too.¡± Thomas was flushing red again. A habit he¡¯d had all day it seemed.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°You know exactly what I mean. Have you been talking with Aimee¡¯s father about this? He¡¯s been saying the same sort of things the last couple of weeks.¡± It was at the mention of Mr. Westler that Thomas¡¯s mother avoided the sharp gaze of her son. She was certainly up to something.


    Thomas put down his spoon and reached across the table to gingerly cover the hand of his mother with his own. ¡°I wish you would trust me to go at my own pace, mother.¡±


    ¡°Own pace?¡± She lightly scoffed. ¡°Dear, if I let you go at your own pace, you¡¯d still be freezing in front of her like a scared child a year from now and I might never see grandchildren.¡±


    This time it was a hunk of potato that nearly lodged itself in Thomas¡¯s throat as he was yet again caught off guard by his mother while attempting to down another spoonful of stew. He swallowed it painfully and coughed into the crook of his arm.


    His mother gave a light chuckled and reached out for his free hand and cradled it with both of hers. Her look was tender. ¡°Thomas, I know you¡¯re a shy man,¡± she spoke softly, ¡°but it¡¯s only because you have such a kind heart. You¡¯re mindful of others and caring. I have no doubt you know what¡¯s best for you. You may not see it but you¡¯re very, very bright. I¡¯m sure you can figure this out on your own. I just want to help you along.¡± She smiled with her eyes as much as her lips. ¡°I¡¯m very proud of the man you¡¯ve become.¡± She brought his hand up to her face and kissed his knuckles.


    ¡°Thank you, mother.¡± He upturned his hand and squeezed her fingers. ¡°I¡¯m glad I have you.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m glad I have you too, darling.¡± She paused as if in thought. ¡°Now, tomorrow is Aimee¡¯s birthday. Do I have that right?¡±


    Thomas nodded. ¡°Yes, she¡¯ll be 20 this year.¡±


    ¡°Excellent. Do you have a gift in mind?¡±


    Thomas could feel the impression the pin was making on the skin of his thigh. ¡°Yes, of course.¡± It was difficult to keep his excitement in check, but he willed it into submission.


    ¡°I hope you plan on getting close to her as well, dear.¡± There was a sly look in her eyes.


    Thomas sighed. ¡°If you promise to leave me alone about it from now on, I promise I¡¯ll¡­¡± He tried to find something easy to satisfy her, ¡°¡­hold her hand tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Hold her hand?¡± His mother¡¯s voice oozed disappointment. ¡°No, no. At least give the girl a kiss, Thomas.¡±


    Red crept into Thomas¡¯s skin yet again. ¡°You¡¯re quite the handful sometimes. Do you know that?¡± He delivered what he saw as a solid fact with a nervous chuckle. She smirked at him as if to say she knew all too well.


    ¡°Just assure me you¡¯ll do your best and I¡¯ll drop the matter.¡±


    Thomas merged a groan with a sigh and let the noise escape his exhausted self. ¡°Fine. I will do my best tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Good enough for me, sweetheart.¡± She rose from the table and began the slow journey down the hall and to her bedroom. ¡°Now, I¡¯m going to lie down. Would you be a dear and clear the table, Tom?¡± She had turned around at the threshold of the hallway to ask it.


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s no trouble. Have a good night, mother. I love you.¡±


    ¡°I love you too, dear.¡± She turned and made her way down the candle lit hall to the room at the far end and closed the door.


    While Thomas was filling a bucket with water from the well to scrub the pot his thoughts began to run wild. Tomorrow was a big day, yet he had no plan. No ideas for places to take Aimee, no way to present his gift, and not even a way to somehow hold her hand, let alone kiss her.


    Nothing.


    He set the bucket down on the lip of the well, the lamp he had brought out soaked the area about him in an orange glow. He¡¯d probably be up all-night thinking about it. Thomas closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between them. He was already so, so tired too.


    . . .


    Colt lay stretched out on his back atop the warn and dirty mattress in his room in the inn. He took a long pull off the rolled cigarette clenched between his lips, then passed it to the woman wrapped in his arm to his left. The second woman was on his chest with her head in her hands. She pitched him a smile that dripped with satisfaction as she stared up at him.


    ¡°Coin well spent,¡± Colt said. He passed the smoke back to the woman on his side.


    Jeanine was her name. ¡°Coin well earned, honey,¡± she said. Her brown, shoulder length hair spewed forth from her head in a chaotic tangle.


    Looking down at Molly on his chest, he saw that her curly red hair wasn¡¯t any better. She gave him a big grin, little brown specks populating her nose and cheeks.


    Thank Ovaro for freckled women, he thought. She was a keeper if he ever saw one.


    Molly dipped her head and kissed his chest. ¡°That girly was right about you,¡± she giggled.


    Colt put a massive hand on the girl¡¯s ass hiding under the bed sheets and easily dragged her up so her face was closer to his. She leaned in and licked the tip of his nose with a playful smile.


    ¡°What did she say about me?¡± His face was straight, but his voice was serious. He was edging towards irritation.


    There came three rapid knocks at the door. The thin wood creaked on its loose hinges with each pound.


    ¡°Get in here!¡± He knew who it was. Sonya opened the door and entered the room.


    Even though the group was mostly covered, she looked to be on the verge of gagging when she saw them. ¡°Gods! Couldn¡¯t you have made yourself decent?¡± She said averting her eyes. ¡°Why would you tell me to come in when you¡¯re like this?¡± She had a hand to her face. ¡°You¡¯re practically my father.¡±


    ¡°Oh come now, girly,¡± the redhead cooed. ¡°I bet it¡¯s nothing you haven¡¯t seen before.¡± Molly looked Sonya up and down. ¡°You come to join us, have you?¡±


    Colt ignored all of this and tore his gaze into Sonya. ¡°What did you say about me?¡± The irritation in him grew and he had an eyebrow raised.


    Sonya belted out a laugh but didn¡¯t reply. Instead, she crossed the room to grab the man¡¯s cloak, and tossed it at them to cover as much skin as she could. Molly was hidden by the cloth, and she uttered a few muffled chuckles in response.


    Jeanine took another drag of her cigarette. ¡°She said you were as gentle as a kitten.¡± She tapped a finger to his nose as she said it.


    Colt grabbed the rolled tobacco from her and took his longest drag from it so far that night. A head of ash fell to his bare chest and Jeanine blew it away with a smile. ¡°Oh, did she now?¡± He exhaled through his nose and turned to Molly who had peeked out from underneath the cloak only to be met by a cloud of acrid smoke. She gave a few small coughs and waved the rest away. ¡°Was she wrong?¡± Colt asked the women.


    Jeanine danced her fingers in the curls of Colt¡¯s short, black beard. ¡°No, no, no. You¡¯ve been a right fine gentleman.¡± She nibbled on his chest a bit.


    Colt didn¡¯t voice a reply and seemed pleased with his portrayal. He took one final draw of smoke from what remained of the cigarette, ground the butt into the bedframe, then tossed the rest to the floor.


    ¡°Next time I come to Yalum, there¡¯s an extra copper for both of you to drop whatever sorry sack of shit who¡¯s paid to knock you around and come running to my door.¡± He said.


    Molly pushed herself up on her palms, the cloak sliding down her back. ¡°Don¡¯t have to pay me nothing extra. Being treated with respect is bonus enough.¡± Jeanine raised a nicotine-stained hand to second that statement.


    ¡°Well, I can see you clearly aren¡¯t finished.¡± This from Sonya who already looked uncomfortable enough. She edged towards the door. ¡°I just came to tell you we¡¯ll need to head out early tomorrow. You know we shouldn¡¯t linger. I¡¯ll have the horses ready at dawn.¡± Colt simply nodded as he raised a couple fingers casually to show he understood. ¡°And don¡¯t stay up too late. I don¡¯t want to deal with a total prick in the morning,¡± Sonya added. She turned and left the room, slamming the door shut behind her.


    . . .


    Sonya descended the beaten, cracked stairs to the first floor. Getting her own room was obviously going to have to be a must. She refused to sleep on the floor after her long travels as well as endure the sights and sounds of Colt¡¯s pleasures. The thought threw a shiver up her spine, and she felt acid rise in her throat.


    She leaned against the counter when she got to it. The man tending the inn noticed a little too late and scrambled to his feet from his lazy slouch in the chair he had occupied. Before he could utter a word, Sonya tossed four coppers on the rough surface.


    ¡°I want a room with a bed that doesn¡¯t reek of piss or swallow me whole in the night.¡± She wanted a decent night¡¯s rest tonight. Who knew how long it would be before she saw bearable accommodations again.? Not her, that¡¯s for damn sure. It was worth the money spent.


    ¡°Clean and comfy. Of course, miss.¡± He turned and grabbed a key off the wall. ¡°Third floor, second on the left.¡± Sonya noticed he hadn¡¯t asked her name for the registry. She didn¡¯t know if it was because she seemed like she wouldn¡¯t give it or if her looks had made things easier for her. She preferred to believe it was the latter. Either way she was glad. The less of a footprint they made when they stopped, the better.


    Sonya raised the key in thanks without a word and headed back up the stairs. When she got to her room she locked the door behind her, kicked her boots to the corner as she unclasped her cloak and shrugged it off her shoulders, then crossed the small space and fell face first onto the mattress. Eventually, after lying there for a moment and absently twirling the bedsheets about one of her fingers, she managed to find the will to roll over to her back, displeasure filling her features.


    Tomorrows continued journey South to the Holy Capitol was easily the one thing souring her mood above all else, but just behind that in the line of succession in her mind was the glaring fact that her man-toy had eluded her. Sonya never relied on the employ of whores, female or male. She preferred to find her meals in the wild, and todays catch had gotten away.


    Sonya sighed deeply and it eventually turned into a frustrated sounding thing. She crawled her way to the head of the bed, grabbing the pillow and holding it tight to her chest. The closeness comforted her immensely. The feeling of another pressed up against her, the attention given and received, and the warmth. She had to imagine this last one. The pillow was as cold and lifeless as her love life. What could she expect from a life on the road, though?


    She gripped the fluffy mass closer and curled about it, sleep creeping in deep inside her. In her lethargy, and mostly a byproduct of her dominant ways, she began to nibble on the corner of the cushion and locked her arms in place, preventing its escape. The action caused an immediate wash of comfort that blanketed her and pulled her down into the depths of slumber.

 Chapter 3: This Feeling

    Chapter 3


    Today was the day. Aimee¡¯s birthday.


    Even with that weighing on his mind and being something of great significance that should be a driving force to propel him through the door of the store and right up to the angel herself, he could not find the courage to enter. Thomas stood at the entrance to the little shop wearing the finest clothes he could find. They were, unfortunately, the same as his usual wear, although cleaner, and his hair was combed as nicely as he could manage. In one leveled, sweaty fist he mercilessly clutched a half dozen tulips, Aimee¡¯s favorite flower. The pin was hiding deep in the abyss that was his pants pocket.


    He kept telling himself he had the will to throw open the door. To stroll up to the woman of his dreams and steal her away for the day. Unfortunately, each time he raised his other hand to the door he would pause, just for a moment, then lower it again. This was done with no small amount of nervous shuffling.


    Unknown to Thomas, for the last few minutes of this, watching him from the window above, was Aimee. She tried her best to stifle a fit of giggling each time the man at her front door hesitated. To her, his shyness was overwhelmingly adorable, so she was reveling in this moment.


    Before his next attempt, she retreated from the window, ran down the stairs, and threw open the door just as Thomas was raising his hand to it again. He was taken aback and gave the smallest of shudders.


    ¡°Oh, Aimee,¡± he managed. Thomas thrust the flowers he held forward. ¡°These are for you. Happy birthday.¡±


    She took them with a gasp, but she wasn¡¯t surprised. She had seen him holding them from her window this whole time. That certainly didn¡¯t change how much she loved them though. Aimee held them close against her chest and swayed her hips side to side joyously.


    ¡°I love them.¡± She offered a beautiful smile. ¡°Come in while I put them in water.¡±


    She reached out, grabbed his hand in hers, and pulled him through the open doorway. At her touch, time seemed to stand still and before he knew it, Thomas was already across the floor and at the counter while Aimee reached up high on the back shelf on her toes to grab a glass flower vase. When she got it down, she held it delicately between the splayed fingers of both hands. She seemed hesitant to say something, or maybe share something. Her eyes found it hard to meet his. Then they corrected and settled on Thomas¡¯s.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Thomas asked.


    ¡°Can I trust you with something?¡± Her gaze grew hard. It was something the man thought he''d never see.


    ¡°Absolutely, Aimee. Anything.¡± He was a man of his word, especially with her.


    ¡°Good, good. I had no doubt, but I had to ask.¡± She grabbed his hand again and Thomas felt the warmth of the contact travel through his fingers and up his arm. He wanted so desperately to give her hand the smallest of squeezes but held back the urge.


    She brought him down the hall and out the back door. Thomas guessed they were headed for the well behind the shop, which at some point long ago had a sturdy shack built around it and locked tight, and as they approached, Aimee produced the key. He noticed their hands were still joined and this time he gave hers a gentle squeeze. She returned it without looking, a gesture that immediately melted him to his core. Aimee unlocked the door and pushed it open.


    Thomas was confused, to say the least. Nowhere inside the tiny structure was there a well to be found. There was only what looked like a wooden cane propped in the corner of the room, a hole of the same width dug into the dirt floor in the middle of the room, and darkness.


    ¡°My father has been hiding this for years.¡± She handed Thomas the vase with the flowers stuffed inside and stepped into the small space. The only light came through the open door, but it was enough.


    ¡°Hiding what?¡± He asked, He couldn¡¯t help but release the barest of chuckles despite his mixture of curiosity and confusion. ¡°A stick in the dark?¡±


    Without a retort, Aimee picked up the wooden rod, jammed it into the hole in the dirt, and retrieved the vase from Thomas. ¡°Come here,¡± Aimee said with a gesture. She held the vessel under the downward curve of the rod. ¡°Tap the top three times.¡±


    Without a single thought of judgment at this odd request, Thomas reached out a hand, fingers at their full extent, and rapidly tapped the top. To his complete surprise, crystal clear water ran undisturbed in a smooth flow from the end of the wood. He was so shocked in fact that he stared in disbelief until the vase overflowed and Aimee issued a playful squeal as cold water ran over the lip of the container, striking the dirt and lightly splashing about and wetting their feet and ankles.


    ¡°Tap it again, Thomas! Tap it again!¡± Aimee laughed.


    Thomas broke free of his daze and tapped the top three times more. The flow stopped immediately without a drop to spare. He brushed his fingertips against the end where the water had come. It was completely bone dry. ¡°This is amazing.¡± He said it under his breath. ¡°This is¡­this is magic, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Aimee was failing to contain her excitement. She was almost shaking with it. ¡°Yes, it is! I have no clue how it works, though.¡±


    Few did, Thomas supposed. He bet no one alive knew. He had always thought magic was only spoken of in children¡¯s tales. Something to make young eyes widen and jaws drop. A fantastical departure from a very real, rough world and into one where problems were solved with a spoken word or the wave of a hand.


    A more perfect world.


    Here was something before him that could throw all he knew to be true out the window. A relic of the old world, of a time hundreds of years gone, in the form of a stick in the ground.


    ¡°Now the law against the use of magic makes much more sense,¡± Thomas said. ¡°I had thought the Holy Family was being nonsensical.¡± This earned him a glare from Aimee, who looked more than a bit ruffled.


    ¡°Nonsensical? The Holy Family has a reason for everything, Thomas,¡± she huffed. ¡°It¡¯s obvious that magic once caused our kingdom a great deal of trouble well before we were born. It would benefit you to remind yourself of that possibility.¡± Her words were serious, but her face and tone had softened. She couldn¡¯t even attempt to be coarse with him. It wouldn¡¯t last.


    Thomas abandoned the thought of a reply and pointed at the marvel before him. ¡°Who else knows about this?¡±


    ¡°No one. Just my father and I,¡± and with the briefest of pauses, ¡°and now you, of course.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m honored,¡± he said with a smile. ¡°But why me?¡±


    ¡°Well, we trust you. My father thought it would be ok to show you and you know you¡¯re like a son to him.¡±


    Thomas was touched. He knew Mr. Westler was fond of him, but not to that extent. He also couldn¡¯t help but think Aimee had wanted to show off the magic device to impress him. There was no need, however. He was and always would be infinitely impressed with her.


    His hand happened to graze his thigh, the pin in his pocket caught his attention and he decided it was time to shift their collective focus back to that of the woman¡¯s birthday. He would be sure to fill an entire day with questions about this, but that could wait for another time.


    . . .


    Captain Leon Groyce sat in his military field tent at a table, pouring over maps of the nation of Corvallia, considering possibilities, weighing options, calculating risks, and predicting outcomes. The man was a brilliant strategist and was attempting to use his years of knowledge and experience to end the string of robberies that had plagued the Holy Family¡¯s trade routes for years. The main issues at hand when concerning the matter were when the thieves would strike next and where they were taking their plunder.


    Most importantly though, was who they were.


    The problem Leon was having was how ill-prepared his men were when an attack on a supply wagon or a royal carriage occurred. They would get hit at random, never in the same place on the route twice, and then months or sometimes several years would go by without so much as a single copper going missing.


    Nothing.


    Now it had happened again. After eleven months of calm, there had come another storm. This time he had tried to be prepared. He had ordered a doubling of the escorts for all trade on the Great Road. He was hoping for such a large number of soldiers to be an aversion. It seems he had been wrong.


    The most frustrating thing about all this was that after fourteen years he had gotten nowhere. He had no clues whatsoever as to who the thieves were, what they looked like, the size of their band, or where they took their spoils. Worst of all, not a single soldier from the Holy Army ever survived an encounter.


    Until now.


    A knight, wearing an immaculate set of polished plate mail bearing the Six-Pointed Star of Ovaro with the crest of the Holy Family of Corvallia in its center, entered the tent and stood at attention, helm cradled under his arm.


    ¡°Captain Groyce, Sir!" The captain looked up from his maps and raised an eyebrow. "He''s awake, Sir." With this, Leon''s other eyebrow shot up to join the first and he rose to his feet.


    "Take me to him immediately." Leon crossed the tent and followed the man out. as he made his way through his camp, knights and soldiers would stop what they were doing and stand at attention, then go back to shining their armor or smoking their cigarettes. His men knew better than to disrespect their Captain.


    When he arrived at a makeshift medical tent, he threw open the flap and strode in to find a soldier on a cot in the corner, bandaged and bloodied. His right arm hung limp and lifeless off the edge of the bunk, he wore more gore-soaked wrappings than he did clothing, and his breathing was ragged and shallow. When he saw his Captain, he tried his best to sit up. The effort was excruciating, and he was relieved when his commanding officer raised his hand to excuse him from the need to rise.


    "Leave us," Leon told the man who was standing at the entrance. The knight gave a slight bow then exited the tent.


    Leon turned back to the wreck of a man before him. He was a possible treasure trove of information and was the only man to survive these fourteen long years of theft of the Royal Family''s coin on the trade routes of Corvallia. Anything this man knew would be dangerously valuable to him. The disheveled man coughed into his fist. It was a coarse sound to Leon''s ears.


    "Tell me what happened, soldier. Don''t spare a single detail."


    The soldier took a deep breath and produced an even bigger cough because of it. Once he had settled, he looked up at his superior. "There were fifteen of us, Sir, traveling on the Western Road towards the East. It was about midday when we were ambushed." He suffered a fit of coughing once more. When he recovered, he continued. "They came up from behind us out of the woods. Before we knew what was happening, five of our men were dead."


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    ¡°How many were there, soldier? Twenty? Thirty? More?¡± Leon held back his urgency as best he could but a little seeped through the cracks. He needed answers.


    "Only two!" Another cough. ¡°There were only two, Sir!"


    Leon was speechless. He couldn''t believe it. Only two? Ovaro, help them all. "Are you certain your eyes saw true?"


    ¡°Of course, Sir! I''ll never forget it! They were an unstoppable force of death!" A slight terror crept into his voice, and he adopted a wild look in his eyes. ¡°One was small and nimble with grace for killing, the likes of which I¡¯ve never seen before. Weaving in and out amongst our ranks without a single neck unopened! Dear God, the blood, Sir! The blood!¡± He had begun to breathe heavily and shook with the words he spoke.


    ¡°Calm down, soldier. You¡¯re safe.¡± Leon knelt and rested a hand on the man¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Now, tell me of the other.¡±


    The man¡¯s eyes widened at the mention. ¡°Oh, he was of monstrous size. Easily a head above our tallest, Sir.¡± The soldier began to weep. ¡°He was a foul demon for sure! A relentless whirlwind of spinning blades with the strength to cleave a man in half, armor and all!¡±


    Leon knew this was no exaggeration. He had seen the aftermath of the massacre himself. Bodies were strewn about, some cut clean in half while others were sliced so thoroughly through the neck, they had nearly lost their heads. The attack had been so sudden and so swift that most had died before even drawing their blades.


    ¡°Tell me, soldier, how did you survive?¡± Leon doubted he¡¯d hear a tale of heroism or bravery, but he did want every single detail.


    ¡°Well, Sir,¡± he began, ¡°I was injured in battle. The large beast of a man swung at me, sir. I managed to block a blow from one of his blades, but when it struck it felt as if some force had aided him, Sir. A force beyond the man¡¯s own strength, mind you. Shattered every bone in my arm and threw me to the dirt. I decided to feign death, Sir.¡± The man started to weep again. ¡°The thought of never seeing my wife and son again was unbearable. I wanted to live, Sir, so I pretended to die.¡±


    Leon looked into the man¡¯s eyes and felt nothing for him. The soldiers'' tale disgusted him to the core. He only saw a coward. ¡°I see. Do you perhaps have any other information for me, soldier? Maybe a name or the direction they went?¡±


    The man thought for a moment. He looked tired. ¡°East, Sir. I was on my face in the dirt, but I remember them heading East.¡±


    ¡°Excellent work, soldier.¡± Leon stood up. ¡°Is there anything else you might know?¡±


    ¡°Well, yes, Sir. When they were done with us and the wagon plundered, one of them spoke.¡±


    Leon grew curious and leaned in intently. ¡°Do you know what they said?¡±


    ¡°No, my Captain. Forgive me, but they were too far off.¡± Another round of coughs. ¡°But I bet my soul it was the voice of a woman, Sir.¡± He smiled. ¡°It was a pretty voice. Young and full of fire. Just like my wife, Lisa, when we first met, Sir.¡± He gave a rough, wet chuckle. ¡°Reminded me of our younger days when there was no short amount of bickering between the two of us, Sir. My dear Lisa always came out on top though. She¡¯s a wild one.¡± The man smiled with another small laugh and looked somewhat at peace.


    Leon was growing bored with the man¡¯s reminiscing. ¡°Is that all, soldier?¡± He still felt nothing. He was a black void of a man.


    ¡°Yes, Sir.¡±


    ¡°Very good. I¡¯ll see to it you get back to your family. Rest easy.¡± With that, he left the tent and was met by his escort just outside.


    The knight snapped to attention. ¡°Was he useful, Captain?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes. I¡¯ve learned much today. Pack up and prepare to leave. We ride East.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Sir. Right away, Sir.¡±


    ¡°Oh, and one more thing.¡± Leon¡¯s face grew deathly serious and cold. ¡°That man in there is a traitor to the Holy Family. He is to be executed immediately.¡± Leon looked to be thinking. ¡°Burn him alive. Let his agony be a lesson to deserters and cowards alike.¡±


    The knight did his best to hide his shock, but it managed to show regardless. ¡°Y-yes, Captain. I¡¯ll see to it personally.¡± His face was ghostly pale.


    As Leon strode away and headed for his tent, he called out without turning back. ¡°And send his bones to his wife.¡±


    . . .


    Aimee couldn¡¯t wait to see how the day would play out. It had started well enough with Thomas bringing her flowers and acting like his shy, bumbling self. She adored that about him and would be sad to see it go once he confessed his love for her, and they grew closer and more comfortable with one another.


    If he confessed his love.


    She knew he loved her. It was obvious. Anyone could see it. She knew it went both ways, too. If others could see the writing on the wall concerning his affection, it was only right to assume they saw her interest in him as well. She had decided to take a page from her mother¡¯s book. If Thomas clammed up on today of all days, then she would take the reins and be the one to push things along. She¡¯d tell him of her love and, with a finger of authority upon his chest, deny him any word against it.


    Aimee held back a wave of giggles at the thought of being so commanding. It was a fantasy, but one she intended to see realized. It was more than life-changing to know that, by the end of the day, one way or another, they would finally have each other.


    She closed her eyes as the two strolled out of town to the North and replayed these happy thoughts over and over in her mind. She misstepped to the side and bumped into Thomas.


    ¡°Careful, Aimee.¡¯ Thomas laughed as he placed a steadying hand upon her shoulder. ¡°How do you expect to walk straight if you close your eyes?¡±


    She had expected him to grab her hand, not her shoulder. She hoped her disappointment wasn¡¯t visible. Courage struck her and she grabbed his hand from where it rested and wove her fingers into his, letting their palms join warmly and let the result hang down between them.


    Thomas didn¡¯t say a word and when Aimee looked at him out of the corner of her eye it put a smile on her face to see him as red as a cherry. She gave his hand a light squeeze and it was instantly returned along with him lovingly rubbing a thumb across the back of her hand. Aimee felt a swirl of emotions rising from the contact. The heart rates of both increased tenfold. There was something special that came with holding the hand of the person you loved, and they could both feel it.


    ¡°Come on. We¡¯re going this way.¡± Thomas pulled her off the road and started ascending a grassy hill, at the top of which stood a solitary tree of great might. Its reach was wide, spreading shady protection far to cover much of the hilltop. It was a beautiful spot Aimee knew Thomas visited often but she had yet to see.


    ¡°How have I never been here?¡± Aimee asked with an air of wonder. ¡°It¡¯s gorgeous.¡± Thomas didn¡¯t answer. He just took off his boots and walked the rest of the way to the tree, barefoot. Aimee did the same, casting her shoes to the side and running to catch up.


    Thomas flopped down and rested his back against the trunk and aimed to pull her down next to him, but Aimee¡¯s brashness surfaced once more and she sat between his legs instead, leaning back against him. She grabbed his arm and looped it around her own waist. They sat there quietly, eyes closed, neither saying a word. The only sound was the rustle of the wind playing with the leaves in the branches overhead. Soon enough, Aimee felt Thomas¡¯s other arm loop around cautiously to join his first around her. It was enough to almost make her breath catch in her throat, and she became dizzy with a rising heat from within her.


    She began to melt into him, to completely lose herself in this feeling. A subtle kiss was placed on the top of her head, and she felt a shiver spread through her that was immediately followed by overwhelming, soothing warmth. Aimee could feel his embrace tighten as he drew her closer.


    This is it, Aimee thought. From here on out we can only progress. How can we go backward after this? She wanted to dive deeper and deeper into this newfound world they had both longed for so desperately.


    She rose a hand to his cheek and caressed it gently. Thomas leaned his head into her palm and kissed it. Again, she felt the pleasure of his lips upon her skin. He kissed her hand over and over again. Aimee¡¯s heart burst with every peck.


    She couldn¡¯t stand it anymore. Words needed to be said, emotions shared, feeling spilled. She twisted around under his embrace to face him. They were chest to chest, his arms still cradling her and her hand gently upon his cheek. All they could do was live in each other¡¯s gaze for a moment. They took in every feature.


    It was Thomas, surprisingly, who broke the tension. The man slid a hand up past the nape of her neck, buried his fingers in her hair, and pulled her into him. Their lips met. Sparks shot through Aimee¡¯s being as she tensed her muscles then relaxed them again, collapsing into him and submitting to his touch. They bathed in one another¡¯s affection. Each time their lips parted it was only an instant before they joined again. Hands brushed against cheeks, breathes were shared, and every single second was pure bliss.


    ¡°I love you. I¡¯ve always loved you.¡± Aimee didn¡¯t know which one of them had said it. She was far too lost at this point to possibly know, nor did she really care. All that mattered was that it had been said. It was known to both that they were in love.


    She began to cry. All the waiting, all the hesitation, all the caution, the fear of the unknown. It was all over. She cried glistening silver streaks that ran down her cheeks and across the fingers of the man holding her face so lovingly up to his own.


    What felt like hours was, in fact, only minutes. For those brief moments, they drifted in an all-encompassing universe made for them, by them. They separated, and caught in each other¡¯s eyes, wondered if the other was even real. If what had happened was real. If what they felt was real.


    They were real, it had happened, and what they felt deep in the core of their souls was as true as the tree they rested against and as powerful as the culmination of all the love there ever had been, was, and ever would be.


    Aimee buried her face in the man¡¯s chest as deep as it could go, her tears wetting his shirt. At that moment she felt a rustling in her hair and heard a clasp being locked into place. She lifted a hand to inspect it, but Thomas grabbed it and kissed her fingers.


    ¡°Not yet. Later,¡± he said softly. ¡°Happy birthday, Aimee.¡± A slight pause. ¡°I love you.¡±


    Pure elation coursed through her, but she kept her face embedded in his chest. ¡°I love you too.¡± She cried softly. Aimee meant every word, and she knew he did too.


    They stayed that way for a while longer but soon found themselves up and on their way back to town, a bounce to their step and a fresh sway to their arms as they walked.


    ¡°Was it your plan all along to take me there?¡± Asked Aimee.


    ¡°Actually, no. To be honest I had no idea what to do for your birthday. It was only a stroke of luck that I thought the hill out there would be a good spot.¡± He sounded slightly ashamed.


    ¡°You mean a stroke of genius,¡± Aimee replied. ¡°I would have to say things worked out quite well. Wouldn¡¯t you?¡± A little giggle escaped her.


    ¡°It was like we were in a fairytale.¡± He sounded almost bashful saying it. ¡°And you saved the day. Things would have turned out a mess if not for you.¡±


    ¡°I had good advice,¡± she said, giving him a wink, ¡°but I¡¯d have to admit you led the way in things. I only opened the door. I didn¡¯t think you would be so bold.¡± She nudged him with an elbow, blushing.


    ¡°I surprised myself, to be honest. It just¡­happened.¡±


    Aimee leaned in and kissed his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll always remember the day Thomas braved his timidity and swept me off my feet.¡± She sighed into the cloth of his shirt, her face pressed against him.


    They reached the edge of town, and before Thomas could say a word, Aimee heard music coming from down the main street and she perked up. It was a tune she recognized as a lovely song called Love¡¯s Ascension.


    How appropriate, she thought. The coincidence made her smile. Without thinking, she rushed to the source of the melody, dragging Thomas the whole way.


    ¡°Whoa! What¡¯s the matter?¡± His question was wrought with playful laughter.


    ¡°I love this song! You must dance with me. I insist.¡± She would not be denied.


    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± he laughed. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t pass up this chance anyway.¡±


    ¡°Good. I should hope not.¡±


    When they arrived, they found a woman standing at the market¡¯s center playing the beautiful song on a violin. Her bow arm moved back and forth at a steady pace as the song started over, sounding slightly sorrowful. The beginning of this song always made Aimee feel lost. It was as if she was floating in a void with a hole in her heart.


    They danced slow, locked in each other¡¯s gaze as they circled the central point that was a single joined hand from each of them. The song occasionally picked up, the notes spurring on a sense of hope within them, only to settle back down again into a shallow depression from which there seemed no escape. It reminded her of the pain of waiting, of the agony of wanting to touch but not able to, of wanting to love and be loved in return.


    Suddenly the violin burst into a rapid crescendo that climbed and encouraged an uplifting joy in them both. This was Love¡¯s Ascension. The speed of their steps and twirls quickened as the music reached higher and higher. The notes fluttered in and out rapidly, speaking of the happiness of love. When the music reached its conclusion, the violinist weaved the bow back and forth across the instrument creating a chaotic flurry that amounted to a mighty unstoppable force triumphing over the most wicked of perils.


    They spun around one another with reckless abandon. Aimee¡¯s oscillations and quick movement made her dress fan out and Thomas¡¯s rapidly shuffling feet kicked up dust as they danced in and out. All the while, the pin in Aimee¡¯s hair caught the light from the sun¡¯s brilliance and shot them out every-which-way in beams of gold and silver.


    Everything ended abruptly. The music, the musician, the dancing. It was all replaced by the acclaim from the dozen or so people that had gathered while the two were in their trance, but the lovers didn¡¯t notice a single clap.


    They were held captive by each other¡¯s stare, hands still clasped and breathing heavily. The two pulled one another in at the same time and embraced, kissing deeply.


    They would remember this feeling forever, however long that might be.

 Chapter 4: Throes of Passion

    Chapter 4:


    It was their first night on the road to Vandera, the holy capital city of Corvallia. Just as they did most nights during their travels, Colt and Sonya camped a good distance from the road amongst a small grove of trees. They sat silently around a fire, enjoying a rabbit Sonya had trapped, its meat lightly seasoned with a touch of salt Colt had purchased from the general store.


    ¡°So, are we going to keep any of it this time?¡± Sonya asked as she finished a leg and tossed the bone into the embers.


    ¡°Why do you ask me something you already know the answer to?¡± Colt grumbled. ¡°Every coin we take from those royal bastards is not to be touched by the likes of us. It¡¯s all for a better cause. Don¡¯t ask again.¡±


    ¡°Aww, come on, Colt,¡± Sonya whined. "Not even a single coin?¡±


    Colt bore into her without a word and took a bite of his rabbit. Silence was her answer. Sonya crossed her arms and pouted.


    ¡°Look at you.¡± He gestured at her with both hands, an unfinished rabbit leg in one of them. ¡°You¡¯re nearly upon your twentieth year, you¡¯ve killed more men than most whores have fucked, and you¡¯re sitting on your ass bitching no less than you did ten years ago.¡± His tone didn¡¯t rise, and his face didn¡¯t change. There was truth and harshness to his words but not in the way he said them. ¡°When is the little girl in you going to die?¡± This last part hit Sonya hard.


    ¡°What if I don¡¯t want her to die?¡± Her hands had dropped to her hips. ¡°What if I don¡¯t want to be as unfeeling as you?¡± She didn¡¯t mean for those words to come out, let alone sound as poisonous as they did. As usual, though, the man seemed unscathed. Silence followed, only disturbed by a knot popping in the small fire between them.


    Colt tossed the bone he had been picking at into the fire with the others and leaned back into the dirt with his hands behind his head. His view of the starry sky overhead was partially obscured by a web of branches as their leaves gently played with a light breeze. The fire danced.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. That was horrible of me.¡± Sonya felt guilty, and Colt¡¯s usual silence made it worse.


    There was a drawn-out stillness between them as the man seemed to gather his thoughts. ¡°I know you¡¯ve seen your fair amount of shit, girl. The fact you aren¡¯t insane yet means something.¡± He shifted his weight and made himself more comfortable. ¡°Like me, you¡¯re bound to endure far worse than you already have before you die and go to Ovaro, but until then, you¡¯re just a stupid girl. After you grow up some more you can judge me all you want until the end of days. As we wait for that day to come, though, learn to respect me.¡±


    He was right and she knew it. Sonya was aware of the things this life had thrown at Colt and the choices he had made through it. The horrors this man had seen were heartbreaking.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± she admitted, losing herself in the rising swirls of flame, ¡°I¡¯m just a stupid girl.¡±


    ¡°Yes, indeed you are.¡±


    Silence.


    They both started to chuckle, which soon became hearty laughter.


    ¡°You don¡¯t laugh enough. It¡¯s good to hear it for a change,¡± she pointed out.


    ¡°Few reasons to laugh anymore,¡± Colt replied. His joy had died out.


    ¡°I still manage to have a good time.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but you¡¯re a stupid girl, remember?¡± Colt was poking fun at her, a rarity, but he was also being honest.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah. I know, I know. I¡¯ve got much to learn and all that. Blah, blah,¡± Sonya mocked.


    ¡°By the Gods, woman. The whores I send home sore and shaking at the knees have more respect for me than you.¡±


    Sonya laughed at that. ¡°Yeah, because you paid them. Anyone gives respect when enough coin is involved, especially whores.¡±


    Colt arched his head up to look at her across the mellow glow of the fire. ¡°First things first. I didn¡¯t teach you to steal for ten years so you could sit on your pretty ass and take my coin. Go out and find your own.¡± He rested his head back down into his hands.


    ¡°At least you think my ass is pretty.¡± Sonya couldn¡¯t help but throw a little sass his way. She had been waiting for an opportunity all day.


    Colt just sighed. It was deep and clearly showed how done he was with this conversation. ¡°And another thing. Not all whores need coin in exchange for their respect.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean? Since when?¡±


    ¡°The redhead the other night. She refused every single copper I offered.¡±


    Sonya could hardly believe it. Was he being serious? A free whore? The next thing she knew, Ovaro himself would come down and dance for them. Incredible.


    "What was her name?¡± Sonya was genuinely curious.


    ¡°Molly.¡± The sound of his voice had a hint of longing hidden within it.


    Sonya couldn¡¯t see the man¡¯s face, but she bet he was smiling. She knew better than to tease Colt when it came to matters of the heart, so she decided to tread lightly. ¡°She must have been something special, boss.¡±


    ¡°Aye, she was. A woman of silver worth.¡±


    ¡°Whoa, whoa. I thought you said no woman was worth a silver lying on their back.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re damn right. That¡¯s why I slipped her two silvers when she wasn¡¯t looking.¡± Colt did smile this time and Sonya could sense it.


    Every time I think I have the big guy figured out, he goes and does something to surprise me, Sonya said to herself. She was honestly stunned. Maybe Ovaro would grace them with a jig after all.


    ¡°What about you and your fun? Anything come of that?¡±


    Sonya chuckled. ¡°Oh, believe me, I tried. Found a real cutie and laid it on thick.¡± Now she had fallen back with her head in her hands too, sharing Colt¡¯s view of the dark sky.


    ¡°What happened? You scare him off?¡± Colt was joking but he had no idea how right he was.


    ¡°Actually, yeah. I think I did.¡± She laughed at herself regardless of the defeat she felt deep inside. ¡°It was almost like he had never spoken to a woman before. It was cute how choked up he got before he ran away, though.¡±


    Colt raised an eyebrow at her. ¡°You¡¯re a strange one,¡± he finally said after a moment.


    ¡°Maybe, but it was kind of nice not having a hungry guy drool over me for once.¡±


    Colt¡¯s paternal instincts took hold and he frowned. ¡°Next time a man drools over you will be the last time he drools over anything,¡± he grumbled.


    Sonya rolled her eyes. ¡°My knight in shining armor,¡± she said, dripping with sarcasm. An awkward quiet followed. Neither said a word for what seemed like a long time. ¡°You know you can¡¯t protect me forever¡­¡± she added. Sonya almost sounded sad.


    There was an even longer pause, the night¡¯s silence took over and became their world.


    ¡°¡­¡­I know,¡± he replied.


    That was it. They both threw their cloaks over themselves to ward off the bite from the chilly night air and, eventually, sleep took them. The fire soon died, leaving them both in shadow.


    . . .


    Thomas closed the door to his room and crossed over to his bed with nothing but sleep on his mind. Aimee was there too, floating around in his head as she always did. Ever since the other day, he¡¯d felt like a different person around her, for the most part anyway. He still flushed and froze on occasion, but not nearly as often as before. Thomas felt so much more confident around her now that the first steps had been taken. He stripped off his shirt and threw it somewhere off into the darkness of his room where the glow of his oil lamp couldn¡¯t reach and crawled into bed.


    I love you. The words spoken by one another repeated themselves time and time again in his mind, causing his skin to rise with goosebumps and his hair to stand erect. He thought how lovely Aimee¡¯s dancing was, her spinning and graceful movements picking up with the ever-increasing intensity of the gorgeous music. He remembered how she had cried tears of relief. A release from the pressure she felt lifting as they embraced one another and submitted to the truth that had been hanging over them for years.


    Thomas let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes. The stillness of the room threw him into a comfort that began to wash him with sleep.


    Tink


    He opened his eyes again and waited, positive he had heard something.


    Tink


    He tossed aside his covers and sat up, the drowsiness leaving him and replaced by a sense of curiosity and caution.


    Tink¡­tink


    It was coming from his window. Thomas swung his legs out of bed and crossed the room with mild hesitation, grabbing the oil lamp from his bedside table to light his way as he went. He held it up before him and approached the dirty glass, squinting his eyes to see through the glare cast by his light. As he neared, a face appeared from the depths of the gloom at the furthest reaches of the lamp''s glow.


    It was Aimee.


    Overwhelming joy and elation overcame him, and he rushed to throw open the window and leaned out with a hand extended.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°What are you doing here so late and without a lamp to see by?¡± he asked her as she grabbed his offered hand. He gripped firmly and pulled her up and through the opening. When her feet were firmly planted, they stood silently and reveled in each other¡¯s presence before their lips met in a passionate kiss, the fingers of their hands becoming entangled.


    ¡°I wanted to see you,¡± she answered to his first question. ¡°And I¡¯m a silly woman.¡± That to the second one.


    ¡°I¡¯m happy you came. I missed you.¡± He brushed the hair from her face with a hand as he cradled her head with the other, gingerly brushing her cheek with a thumb. ¡°And you are a very silly woman,¡± he chuckled. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you come through the front door?¡± he added.


    ¡°I thought it would be more romantic,¡± she pointed out. ¡°And we¡¯re both silly,¡± she laughed. ¡°We saw each other not even a couple of hours ago. We spent the whole day together.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t enough.¡± He kissed her again then scooped her up in his arms. She let out a startled gasp and a laugh as he carried her over to the bed.


    ¡°Oh, Thomas! The window, the window!¡± She tried to say it quietly as she kicked her legs and laughed, wanting to be put down. He lowered her to the creaking wood floor, and she silently rushed over to shut it and grab the lamp, giggling the whole way.


    She wasted no time setting the lamp down on the nightstand, ripping off her shoes, and hurling herself into Thomas¡¯s arms. They fell together onto the mattress in a mixed tangle of limbs, laughter, and love. Aimee looked down at him from above, her hair spilling all around them. Thomas grabbed her face with both hands and drew her in, their lips met and parted repeatedly without pause. She sat up straight, pulled her dress off over her head, and tossed it to the floor. Now down to her undergarments, she crawled under the covers and snuggled up tight against him.


    ¡°What do you want to do tomorrow?¡± She asked wrapping an arm around him and burying her face in his soft skin.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see how anything different than this would be a problem,¡± he replied with a smile after feeling her lift a leg to curl it around and trap his own two.


    She exhaled against him and his comfort. ¡°Good, I was hoping so.¡± She kissed twice where her head rested.


    He grabbed her hand in his, placed the pairing upon his chest, and applied slight pressure to her fingers. She returned the same. ¡°I can¡¯t believe it took us this long. I feel so¡­stupid.¡±


    ¡°Well, I had an equal part in all the waiting so I¡¯m just as stupid, I guess,¡± she admitted.


    ¡°Just a couple of fools,¡± Thomas laughed.


    ¡°So, you acknowledge the fact that we are now a couple?¡± She settled on the quip casually with a smirk.


    ¡°Well, after your birthday, I only assumed.¡± He rubbed a thumb into her palm.


    ¡°You¡¯re in the right to assume.¡± Aimee nuzzled his chest.


    ¡°Do you think our parents will finally leave us alone?¡± Thomas asked.


    ¡°Oh heavens, no. Honestly, I think it¡¯ll only get worse.¡± She said this with absolute certainty.


    ¡°Worse?¡± He felt a lurking doom loom over him. ¡°Worse how?¡± He could only guess.


    ¡°Well, think about it. Next, they¡¯ll ask about marriage.¡±


    ¡°Marriage? So soon?¡± He was shocked.


    Aimee blushed a little at this. Her grip on him tightened and she forged ahead. ¡°Well, yes. I think they would bother us with that. I wouldn¡¯t put it past them.¡±


    ¡°Honestly, neither would I, now that I think about it.¡±


    Aimee cleared her throat for what was about to come. ¡°Then¡­eventually,¡± she started as she averted her eyes and nervously rubbed her thumb into his knuckles, ¡°they¡¯ll want to know if we¡¯ve had¡­sex.¡± She grew red as an apple. They both did.


    Thomas gave an anxious chuckle. ¡°My mother has already brought that up. She told me she wanted grandchildren. I can only assume she¡¯d want us to get on with it.¡±


    Aimee gasped and looked up at him. ¡°No! Your mother? But she¡¯s such a sweet woman. Who knew she would be so bold?¡± Aimee was only half-joking. She knew Dorothy could be slightly devious at times.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know the half of it. She¡¯s been berating me mercilessly for a good year about you.¡±


    ¡°I had no idea I was such a valuable topic of discussion. I feel so special.¡± She reached up to touch the side of his face and turned his head so their eyes met.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know the half of it,¡± he repeated with a smile. They kissed again.


    There was a period where they just rested, completely absorbed in the feel of one another. They kissed, held each other, breathed the same air, and shared the same heartbeat. Eventually, they both slept, dreaming of many things together. Of their love, of wedding one another, of having children, of growing old together, and of dying together.


    Sharp rays of morning sunlight pierced the bedroom window¡¯s cloudy surface which made the backs of Thomas¡¯s eyelids glow slightly as he woke. He tried to roll away from it and felt a weight on his side. The memory of last night came flooding back. Looking down, he saw Aimee fast asleep.


    He kissed her forehead, but she didn¡¯t stir. Then he kissed her nose and the rest of her face. After the peck on her nose, she had begun to rouse and each one after that drew her further and further out of her slumber.


    ¡°Thomas¡­¡± She sounded groggy. ¡°Alright, Thomas, alright. I¡¯m up, I¡¯m up,¡± she giggled sleepily while trying to paw him off her and fight her drowsiness at the same time. It was a losing battle.


    Thomas ripped off the covers and started kissing her stomach as she yawned and stretched, causing her to panic and flail at him with laughter.


    ¡°No, no! For Ovaro¡¯s sake, Thomas!¡± She couldn¡¯t control herself through the barrage of lightly tickling kisses. Her squirming caused them both to fall off the side of the bed in a heap. They stayed there for a while, laughing and holding each other. They heard staggered footsteps coming down the hall and before they could collect themselves the door inched open.


    ¡°Thomas?¡± His mother¡¯s voice sounded through the crack. ¡°Thomas? Everything alright?¡± Then she saw them. She threw the door open with a look of pure delight on her face.


    ¡°Mother, I¡­¡± Thomas didn¡¯t get the chance to finish.


    ¡°Oh, thank Ovaro! Finally, you two are getting somewhere.¡± She seemed much more relieved than anything.


    ¡°Mother!¡± He couldn¡¯t hide his embarrassment.


    Aimee sat there on the floor and waved at Thomas¡¯s mother. ¡°Good morning, Mrs. Pruel,¡± Aimee greeted, a massive grin adorned her face.


    ¡°Good morning to you too, dear.¡± She smiled back. ¡°Will you be joining us for breakfast?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s too kind of you, but I really must go soon and help my father with the shop.¡±


    Thomas looked disappointed.


    ¡°I understand, sweetheart.¡± She locked eyes with her son. ¡°Thomas. Walk her home like a gentleman.¡±


    ¡°Of course, mother. I had already planned on it.¡± He reached over and grabbed Aimee¡¯s hand in his.


    ¡°That¡¯s a good boy,¡± she said, pleased. ¡°Aimee, thank you for making a man of my son.¡± She closed the door on them and left the comment lingering in the room.


    Aimee failed to contain a rolling fit of laughter and she clenched her sides with the bout. Thomas¡¯s mouth hung open in disbelief.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been dealing with all this time,¡± he exclaimed with a gesture to the door.


    ¡°I wonder if we should tell her nothing happened last night,¡± Aimee ventured once she had recovered.


    ¡°Honestly, I¡¯d rather her think something had,¡± Thomas said, a little frustrated. ¡°Maybe then she¡¯d give us some peace.¡± He stood and helped Aimee to her feet.


    ¡°Well¡­¡± she started and began to flush, ¡°we don¡¯t have to lie to your mother.¡± She was looking down at her hands which had joined to tangle their fingers together nervously. Her hips clenched together, and she swayed slightly from side to side, a steady heat rising within her. Am I really going to do this? The urge was overwhelming. She couldn¡¯t think straight. Aimee¡¯s head swam but she braved the storm.


    Thomas, being a man of such innocence, looked only confused. "What do you mean?¡±


    Aimee didn¡¯t offer an explanation. She stepped closer to him and gently pushed him back to sit on the mattress. He looked up at her with a look of anxious realization, Aimee''s hands cradled his face lovingly. She straddled him and kissed him deeply and Thomas¡¯s hands found their way to her rear. They fell onto the soft, inviting bed and abandoned all thought as they drifted in a sea of hot emotions and stimulated senses.


    Thomas opened his eyes to emerge from the realm of sleep for the second time that day. Being so thoroughly exhausted, they had passed out immediately following their first time embroiled in the throes of mindless passion, still within each other¡¯s loving embrace.


    He stared down at her again and watched her breathe softly as she dreamt, delicately tracing the features of her face with a finger. Her cheeks, nose, lips, eyes, chin. They all got this treatment. He drew her in closer, buried his face in her hair, and kissed the top of her head. He felt her hand come up and wrap itself around his back.


    ¡°Good morning again, Thomas.¡± It came out in the middle of a large yawn. She brushed her fingertips up and down his back affectionately and ran a foot along the length of his calf under the covers.


    ¡°Good morning.¡± He paused. ¡°That was¡­¡±


    Aimee didn¡¯t let him finish. She pressed a grouping of fingers against his lips to silence his next words.


    ¡°Hush, now.¡± She smiled at him. ¡°Don¡¯t put words to what happened. Whatever you or I could say wouldn¡¯t do that magic any justice.¡±


    Thomas kissed the fingers that pressed against his lips and remained silent. She was right. She usually was.


    Aimee¡¯s eyes widened and she suddenly burst into a frantic struggle to free herself from the tangle of sheets they were under, almost falling off the edge of the bed in the process.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter, Aimee?¡± Thomas asked, startled. He was already sitting upright.


    Aimee finally got loose and was searching for her clothes. ¡°The shop! Father is going to have a fit!¡±


    Thomas chuckled; glad it wasn¡¯t something more serious. ¡°Calm down. Everything will be alright,¡± he assured her.


    ¡°Whether it will or won¡¯t be doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯m always there to help him.¡± She found her dress and was wiggling into it.


    Thomas got up to help her pull it down over her head. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll understand, Aimee.¡± He went and found her shoes too.


    When she was dressed, she stood silent for a moment. ¡°How do I look?¡± She finally asked.


    Thomas thought she looked tired. Her hair was askew and stuck out at every angle but the right ones and he didn¡¯t think a brush alone would fix it. Looking down at her wrinkled dress, he noticed the two layers of her shin-length outfit no longer lined up properly. Even with all this, Thomas thought she was a force of beauty.


    ¡°Still the most gorgeous woman in Corvallia,¡± he said with a chuckle, despite his honesty.


    She gave him a flat, no-nonsense stare. ¡°Well, I can see you¡¯re going to be no help in this matter.¡± She headed for the door. ¡°I¡¯ll have to go ask your mother for help.¡±


    ¡°Probably a smart decision, honestly. I don¡¯t know the first thing when it comes to¡­¡± he paused, letting his words trail off as he gestured at her disheveled state.


    Aimee looked down at herself then back up to Thomas. ¡°When it comes to what?¡± She asked, sounding a little concerned.


    Thomas shrugged. ¡°Any of it. This sort of thing is my mother¡¯s specialty. You know you look amazing anyway, right?¡±


    Aimee sighed but was smiling at him. ¡°While that¡¯s sweet of you, dear, I can¡¯t very well be out in this dreadful state now, can I?¡± She walked back over to him and took his hands in hers as she said it.


    Thomas almost didn¡¯t catch what she had said. It was so sudden and brief that it nearly slipped by him. ¡°You just called me dear, didn¡¯t you?¡± His smirk was plain as day. He placed a hand on her hip and began to rock her side to side with him.


    Aimee had said it without noticing, but now that it had been pointed out she grew crimson with embarrassment. She stared into his eyes for a moment, kissed him on the lips, then shoved him to the bed.


    ¡°Get dressed. You¡¯re walking me home,¡± she said looking down at him. She attempted to hide a smile but did a horrible job of it. It shone through at the corners of her mouth.


    ¡°Right away, milady.¡± He bowed slightly from where he sat, a stupid grin on his face.


    ¡°You¡¯re such a silly fool, Thomas.¡± She walked to the door and opened it, then looked back with a sweet smile. ¡°But I¡¯m absolutely crazy about you. I love you.¡±


    He smiled back at her. ¡°I love you too, Aimee. I always have.¡± It was the most sincere thing he had said to anyone.


    She held his gaze for a short while and then, satisfied, closed the door behind her.


    And I always will, Thomas thought. He rubbed the sleep from his face and got up from the bed.

 Chapter 5: The Coming Storm

    Chapter 5:


    The sun peeked out over the tops of the distant mountains, showering the land with golden rays that made the dew on each blade of grass sparkle like fallen diamonds. The morning air was crisp and the cold cut through Sonya¡¯s tightly wrapped cloak as she helped pack up the campsite. They tended to travel light, so they didn¡¯t have a whole lot. A few thick blankets for sleeping and tent-making, flint and steel, rope, various tools, a single cooking pot, and several other odds and ends. All of which they packed on their horses.


    Colt stood at the edge of what had been their camp for the night, staring off towards the Great Road. A route that ran from the Holy City of Vandara in the South to the mountains in the North that straddled the border of the neighboring nation of Baldorum and wound through most of Corvallia¡¯s cities and towns along the way.


    Sonya loaded the last of their supplies onto her horse then walked over to join Colt. He had a smoke in between two massive fingers and was drawing from it liberally. Sonya didn¡¯t indulge in tobacco, but she loved the smell, so she stood close by to catch a whiff.


    ¡°Everything¡¯s ready to go, boss.¡±


    Colt simply nodded, still holding his gaze to the road. He took another long pull from the rolled leaf and a large head of ash was torn off the end by a small breeze. Sonya watched as it hit the ground and rolled across the dirt. She turned and grabbed his pouch of tobacco from his belt and rolled him another. She had been doing it for him for years, so she had it done and perfectly wrapped in seconds.


    She was about to hand it to him but stuck it in her mouth instead. She motioned for him to pass her the nearly spent butt of his smoke. He gave her a questioning glance with a raised eyebrow but after little hesitation, he handed it over. Sonya lit her new cigarette with the red-hot glowing tip of the old one, starting it with a few sharp pulls, as she had seen Colt do so many times before. Colt waited and watched, a hint of amusement growing on his face.


    ¡°What do I do now?¡± Sonya asked him.


    Colt didn¡¯t reply with words. He took back the remainder of his own roll and drew in a mouthful of smoke. He flicked the dead cigarette off into the grass and inhaled what he had collected in his mouth deep down into his lungs, then let it out again in a thin, ghostly plume. Sonya mimicked most of it perfectly but when she attempted to inhale, she was thrown into a fit of violent coughing. She felt as if her lungs had collapsed and been lit on fire.


    Sonya held out the roll to Colt, still trying to catch her breath. He took it with the barest of smiles. If he had been in the mood, he would have laughed, but he was rarely in the mood anymore. It would be a long time before he was again.


    ¡°How do you stand that?¡± Sonya coughed through the whole question.


    ¡°It¡¯s like that piss they call ale at that drink house in Keln to the West,¡± he said through the smoke of another exhale.


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°You get used to it.¡±


    Sonya nodded her understanding and was about to turn to her horse when she saw figures moving along the Great Road in the distance. A line of them, moving in the direction they had come from last night. Her first experience with tobacco made her lightheaded and her limbs tingled, but she was certain she saw what she saw. Sonya took a step towards the road and focused.


    ¡°Your eyes aren¡¯t playing tricks on you,¡± Colt assured her as if reading her mind.


    ¡°Who are they? Soldiers?¡±


    ¡°Most of them.¡± He pointed his fingers holding the smoke at the faraway line of marching troops. ¡°See that dozen-or-so in front on horseback?¡±


    Sonya had to squint, but she could make them out. ¡°Yeah, but barely. What of them?¡±


    Colt suddenly looked irritated. ¡°Open your damn eyes, woman,¡± he grumbled. ¡°Look again.¡±


    She did, straining her eyes and trying to find some important detail. She found it and gasped. Their armor had a radiant shine and covered most of their bodies. They wore full plate mail.


    ¡°They¡¯re Holy Knights!¡± She sounded nearly terrified and had good reason to be. The Holy Knights of Corvallia were highly trained soldiers sworn to the Holy Family. Each knight was handpicked from amongst the most skilled soldiers in the Corvallian army.


    ¡°That they are. This isn¡¯t good.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re telling me! We could maybe take down four or five of those bastards¡­but a dozen?¡± Sonya exclaimed, now feeling drawn towards the smoke in Colt¡¯s hand.


    ¡°And that¡¯s not to mention the other two-dozen infantryman trailing behind them.¡± Colt pointed out.


    He took another drag of his smoke and, sensing Sonya¡¯s anxiety, offered it to her. She eyeballed it for a second then snatched it from his grasp. She turned it over repeatedly in her fingers before taking a drag of her own. She only coughed once.


    ¡°What do you suppose they¡¯re doing all the way out here?¡±


    Colt seemed angry with her this time. ¡°You¡¯re not fucking stupid,¡± he growled at her. ¡°Think for yourself instead of asking the questions of an idiot.¡± He tried to grab his smoke back, but she pulled it from his reach.


    ¡°You¡¯re not getting this back now.¡± There was no sarcasm. ¡°Roll your own, asshole.¡± She took another puff without a single cough.


    Colt sighed but moved on. He pointed to the line of troops again. ¡°Can you see what they have with them?¡±


    Sonya squinted through the curls rising from her smoke. She could barely make out two wagons. One was a skeletal shell of sorts. ¡°It¡¯s a cage¡­¡± She sounded like someone who had just reached some dark realization. ¡°They¡¯re looking for us.¡±


    Colt only nodded. He had already rolled himself another smoke and extended a hand to request a light. Sonya obliged.


    They silently observed the large group as they trudged down the Great Road, the sun reflecting off their armor in all directions. Their passage kicked up clouds of dust from the mighty dirt road. Sonya could imagine the rattling and clanking their plate and chain mail must be making but they were much too far off to hear a single sound.


    ¡°If they stay on course¡­¡± Colt started, but let his words die. He remained as stoic as ever.


    ¡°They¡¯ll continue North past Keln, cross the bridge of Oshra, and enter Lela,¡± Sonya finished.


    ¡°Yes, but something tells me they won¡¯t.¡± He raised a hand to point at the soldiers again. ¡°Those ground troops aren¡¯t prepared for a march that long. They¡¯d all have horses otherwise.¡± He took a long drag and exhaled through his nose. ¡°Their destination is nearby. I¡¯d bet on it.¡±


    Sonya¡¯s eyes grew wide with realization. The Knights of Corvallia were going to take the Eastern Road. She knew it. ¡°They¡¯re going to Yalum¡­¡± She almost whispered it.


    ¡°That they are.¡±


    ¡°But¡­you left the hairpin there. The only thing connecting anyone to that carriage we robbed.¡± She was getting worked up, starting to panic. Colt just nodded without taking his eyes from the road. ¡°The Holy Knights are devils. If they find that pin, Colt¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s likely everyone in Yalum will die.¡± He said it like the matter wasn¡¯t of concern. ¡°But we¡¯ll live. That¡¯s more important right now.¡±


    Sonya shifted her gaze to him, completely forgetting the world around her for the moment. The sheer disgust she showed was ugly. ¡°What did you just say?¡± She couldn¡¯t believe what she had just heard.


    ¡°Be mindful of our goal,¡± Colt reminded her.


    ¡°Our goal?¡± She was growing furious. ¡°Our goal is to kill soldiers, to kill knights, and to remove the assholes running this country from power! To end the corruption, to stop the killings, to help the people!¡± She began to shove the giant man, but to little effect. ¡°I didn¡¯t come all this way to watch as my actions doomed a village of innocent people! I won¡¯t let what happened to Daro, happen to Yalum.¡± She threw her smoke at him, and it bounced off his shoulder and fell to the ground.


    Colt caught one of her shoves and looked down at her, almost sad. ¡°No one in war is innocent, Sonya.¡±


    She stared up at him with a swarming hatred in her eyes. His eyes stared back but they were just empty, scarred, and worn orbs. They had seen too much. Sonya ripped her hands free of his grip and stormed towards her horse. ¡°Fuck you,¡± she called back, poison in her voice.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Colt asked, his voice rising slightly.


    ¡°To do what I can,¡± she growled at him. ¡°Whether you¡¯re coming or not.¡±


    ¡°I suggest you give this some thought.¡± He tried to remain calm. She was being stupid and reckless, and it was making his blood boil.


    Sonya mounted her horse and grabbed the reins. She offered him one last glance across the remains of their campground, then she kicked her horse into a gallop. Colt just stood there and watched her ride off.


    ¡°Stupid fucking girl,¡± he said under his breath. ¡°But you¡¯re my stupid fucking girl.¡± He straddled his horse and rode off after her. Possibly to his death.


    The thought made him grin.


    . . .


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    When Thomas approached the door of the general store this time, he did so with complete confidence. Up the porch steps he went and through the door. Mr. Westler was manning the counter and threw Thomas a smile when he saw him stroll in.


    ¡°Thomas! Good to see you, lad!¡± He stepped around the counter and gave Thomas a hug.


    ¡°Afternoon, Don.¡± Thomas had a smile on that stretched from ear to ear. Every day since Aimee¡¯s birthday, he had worn such a smile. He heard a commotion above him as someone knocked something over, scurried about, and then ran across the room upstairs. ¡°I take it your daughter is on her way down?¡± Thomas chuckled.


    ¡°Yes, yes! I¡¯m coming!¡± Aimee called as she ran down the flight of stairs. When she reached the landing at the bottom she leaped through the air into Thomas¡¯s arms. He caught her with ease, both laughing, twirling, and kissing.


    Mr. Westler cleared his throat and they both stopped and released one another, remembering he was there. He smiled a gentle smile though. ¡°It¡¯s so nice to finally see you two together.¡± He stepped forward and gave them both a hug. ¡°Honestly, I was thinking I¡¯d pass and reach Ovaro¡¯s Sacred Land before you two made anything of this,¡± He laughed.


    ¡°Actually, we would like to thank you, father, for all the pushing and teasing you¡¯ve done. It¡¯s honestly helped a great deal.¡±


    Don was a little surprised. ¡°Well, well. Aren¡¯t I a lucky man? It often takes years for children to appreciate the efforts of their parents. Your mother would be very proud.¡±


    Aimee only smiled at the last bit, still uncomfortable at her mother¡¯s mention. Thomas grabbed her hand and squeezed it lovingly.


    ¡°We really can¡¯t thank you enough, Don. What you¡¯ve helped give us is too precious.¡± Thomas¡¯s words just about brought a tear to Mr. Westler¡¯s eyes.


    Don placed his hands squarely on the man¡¯s shoulder and looked at him through his old, worn glasses. ¡°Thomas, you are a wonderful man. I wouldn¡¯t want my sweet daughter in the arms of anyone else.¡± He gently squeezed. ¡°Do me a favor, lad.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. Anything.¡± Thomas promised.


    Don pointed a finger at his daughter as he spoke. ¡°You marry this woman.¡± A glint shone in his stare. ¡°And give me grandchildren before I die an old, lonely man.¡±


    At this, Aimee covered her face in her hands and blushed with embarrassment. ¡°Father!¡±


    Aimee¡¯s father had expected Thomas¡¯s usual bashfulness. So did Aimee, but to the surprise of them both though, Thomas stood up tall and determined.


    ¡°I will, Don. You have my word.¡± Although he thought it too rushed to engage just yet, Thomas knew it to be the proper thing, seeing as how there already might be a birth on the way. Their morning pleasure might have seen to that, but only time would tell.


    ¡°Good, lad, good,¡± Don said happily as he slapped one of Thomas¡¯s shoulders. He gave him a full, tight hug. ¡°Welcome to the family, my boy. Honestly, it certainly took long enough.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s an honor, sir.¡± By now Aimee was attempting to drag Thomas out of the shop, pulling on his sleeve to coax him to leave with her. It worked. He began to move and said goodbye to Don as he stumbled through the door.


    ¡°What was that back there?¡± Aimee asked, flushed.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± He dropped her a wink.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you play games with me, Mr.¡± She tried to sound serious, but she couldn¡¯t pull it off with him.


    Thomas ignored her completely. ¡°Do you know how stunning you look today?¡± He pulled her into his arms.


    She did, actually. She wore a light pink dress that was tight around the waist. Her hair was done in that long, elaborate braid she fancied, and that Thomas loved so much. Aimee¡¯s goal today was to be Thomas¡¯s center of attention. She knew she didn¡¯t have to even try, but she wanted to put in the effort. The fact Thomas had attempted to change the subject was something she¡¯d let slide, for now. She wanted to revisit this matter later. It interested her far too much.


    Aimee Pruel. She let the new name roll about in her mind, the nice ring of it forcing a grin to come through. While she was somewhat afraid to rush into marriage, she had known Thomas most of her life and had been in love with the man for half that. Once she thought about it that way, it wasn¡¯t all that scary.


    A swift peck on the lips pulled Aimee from her thoughts. She readjusted her unfocused eyes and brought her full attention to her lover¡¯s handsome face. She grabbed his head and kissed him deeply.


    ¡°I love you, Thomas Pruel.¡± The words came so naturally, as if she was born to say them.


    Thomas wrapped his arms around her and gently pulled her against himself. ¡°I love you, too, Aimee Westler.¡±


    Hearing her last name almost made her a little sad. She suppressed the feeling though and smiled anyway. Hopefully, it won¡¯t be too long until it¡¯s official, she thought. Not that she didn¡¯t like her last name, she loved it. She just loved this man infinitely more and couldn¡¯t wait to have his name. Breaking her own daydream, Aimee grabbed Thomas¡¯s arm and broke out into a run, dragging him along.


    ¡°Whoa! Slow down, Aimee. Where are we going?¡± He asked as he stumbled after.


    ¡°I want to go sit under that tree again.¡±


    ¡°Alright then, let me help.¡± He scooped her up in his arms and, once again, Aimee gasped as he did so.


    Aimee hugged him tight and buried her face in his chest as he carried her through town. She grew relaxed, listening to his heartbeat, smelling his smells, feeling each muscle against her body as they worked, and his every breath across the top of her head. She could fall asleep so easily like this, and she soon did. Her breathing grew soft and steady as she drifted.


    By the time she opened her eyes again, they were already underneath the mighty tree on the hill. A gentle breeze played with a few loose strands of Aimee¡¯s hair, tickling her face. She was curled up in Thomas¡¯s lap, his back once again resting against the tree¡¯s trunk.


    ¡°You passed out for a short time,¡± he said sweetly.


    ¡°Yes, I noticed. I¡¯m sorry.¡± She was a little embarrassed and tried to avoid his gaze. He laughed and kissed the top of her head.


    ¡°No, no. It¡¯s alright. Seeing you so at ease was something special. I enjoyed every minute of it.¡±


    Aimee grabbed his hand, locked her fingers in his, and kissed his knuckles. ¡°I want every day to be like this. Forever. No deviations. This is my ideal life and I refuse to have it any other way.¡± It was said with such totality. ¡°I¡¯ll move mountains to make it happen.¡±


    ¡°Well, that settles it,¡± he said, urging her to her feet. ¡°Stand up.¡±


    Aimee was confused. What are you up to? She asked inwardly. Her confusion melted away and a jolt of adrenaline shot through her as Thomas knelt before her, taking her hand. Aimee¡¯s pounding heart became so violent she could feel it in her chest. Tears started to well up in her eyes and she had to wipe them away with a palm to see, but they kept coming.


    ¡°Aimee Marie Westler,¡± Thomas started. He paused a moment to take in her beauty. To Thomas, he knelt before an angel, and while he spoke with confidence, he couldn¡¯t help but feel choked up. ¡°Will you do me the honor of marrying me?¡±


    At that moment, her tears came streaming forth and rolled down the sides of her face. Aimee covered her mouth and let out a few happy sobs. She looked down at Thomas, her hand trembling in his, and nodded. Then she fell to her knees and collapsed into his waiting arms. There she cried as she pressed her face into the side of his neck. They stayed there a while, rocking gently from side to side until Thomas pushed her away and looked into her wet eyes. They were red and puffy, and her lower lip couldn¡¯t help but quiver.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t have a ring for you yet. In time, I promise.¡±


    Aimee laughed through her tears. ¡°Thomas, you¡¯re always such a silly man. You¡¯ve already gotten me something more precious than any ring.¡± She reached into a small pocket sewn into the waist of her dress and produced the gold and silver hairpin. ¡°I didn¡¯t have time to put it on before you arrived.¡± She placed it in his open hand. ¡°Will you put it on me?¡±


    Thomas smiled. ¡°Gladly, dear.¡± The sound of the pet name almost made Aimee cry all over again. He clipped the pin in her hair. It shone brilliantly, casting off marvelous beams of light from its fine polish. It almost made the woman glow more than she already did. Thomas was awestruck.


    Aimee flung herself at the man and they both fell over into the soft grass, rolling over one another. Aimee ended up on top after the tumble and looked down at her love, trying not to cry again. She couldn¡¯t help it though, and fresh tears fell from her eyes. They both cried as they enjoyed the warmth and tingle of each other¡¯s lips over and over again, holding one another so tightly it almost hurt. They didn¡¯t want to stop. There wasn¡¯t such a thing as enough when it came to this feeling.


    They settled soon enough, Aimee resting atop her fianc¨¦e, her face on his chest. Thomas stroked her back and took in the beautiful sight of golden rays of sunshine piercing the canopy of the tree, backed by a clear blue sky.


    ¡°In case you were wondering,¡± Thomas said, ¡°your father had no part in this. I had already planned on proposing today.¡±


    Aimee nodded against his chest. ¡°I know. I had a feeling.¡±


    ¡°I wonder what my mother will say.¡±


    ¡°Probably ask for grandchildren, like my father,¡± Aimee said. They both laughed. Aimee pushed herself up on her palms and hovered over him, drowning in his blue eyes. She nibbled her lower lip a little.


    ¡°Have you noticed there¡¯s a lot of silent staring between us?¡± Thomas questioned.


    ¡°I hope that¡¯s not a problem.¡±


    ¡°Not at all. I actually enjoy it,¡± he said with a little chuckle.


    Aimee kissed him on the nose and stood up. ¡°Come on.¡±


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± He asked, sitting up on his elbows.


    ¡°To go tell your mother, of course.¡± As if it were obvious.


    ¡°I wonder if you know just how nervous I am about that.¡±


    ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m not surprised.¡± Aimee gave him a smirk. ¡°But it¡¯s happening, sweetheart.¡± She offered a hand to help him up.


    ¡°Yes, dear,¡± he sighed as he took her hand.


    They left the shade of the tree and walked hand in hand down the hill and back to the road just as a figure on horseback came into view.


    ¡°I wonder who that could be in such a hurry,¡± Aimee said, watching as the horse kicked up great clouds of dust.


    The rider passed by, then turned in a wide arc back towards the couple. Aimee¡¯s curiosity reached new heights. The person was cloaked with their hood drawn up, hiding their features. After coming up on the two, the rider pulled back on the reins and stopped the horse, the beast stamping uneasily about from hoof to hoof.


    Thomas instinctively stepped in front of Aimee, protecting her. ¡°Can we help you?¡± He asked. ¡°What business do you have with us?¡±


    ¡°My business is with her, Thomas.¡± The stranger pointed at the woman. ¡°Not with you.¡±


    Though Thomas held fast, maintaining his composure, he was still confused. Not only did the stranger know his name but it was the voice of a woman, something he hadn¡¯t expected.


    Aimee bravely skirted around Thomas to face the woman atop the horse. ¡°What do you want from me and how do you know my fianc¨¦e?¡± She stood proud and resolute.


    The riders¡¯ eyes visibly widened within the darkness of her hood. She looked to the man, then back to the woman. Fianc¨¦e? The stranger thought. She pulled back her hood. Sonya looked down at the two from her horse. ¡°I see now why you could only afford your name and your gratitude, Thomas.¡± She turned to Aimee. ¡°Honest men are becoming scarce. You¡¯re a lucky woman.¡± The compliment did little to wipe the confusion from Aimee¡¯s face.


    ¡°What is this about?¡± Asked Thomas.


    Sonya pointed to the hairpin shining brilliantly in the sunlight. ¡°It¡¯s about that. What luck I must have to come across it so quickly.¡± Her face grew hard, almost grim. ¡°And it¡¯s about your lives as well. We don¡¯t have much time.¡± Her sassy nature was replaced by a seriousness she rarely showed.


    The couple looked to one another, exchanging a mixed look of bewilderment and anxiety. ¡°What do you mean?¡± asked Aimee.


    Sonya only shook her head. ¡°No time for a discussion.¡± She held out an open hand. ¡°Give it to me, and I do mean now.¡±


    Thomas¡¯s muscles tensed and he took a step forward. ¡°You can¡¯t have it.¡± His hands were clenched into fists.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t take you for an idiot.¡± Sonya drew her blade from the back of her waist and leveled the tip at Thomas¡¯s face, the edge caught the sun and shone brightly. ¡°Fool or not, you don¡¯t have a choice.¡± She didn¡¯t have time for humor or her usual quips. This moment demanded action.

 Chapter 6: Cracked in the Dark

    Chapter 6:


    Sonya held her blade at arm¡¯s length, the tip wavering ever so slightly. She didn¡¯t start her day with the aim of running someone through, so she hoped the edge she brandished was enough to get the job done. It wasn¡¯t though, and Thomas stood unmoving and defiant, his eyes stabbing up at her like daggers and the muscles in his arms flexed and tensed.


    Is this the same bumbling guy from the other day? Where¡¯d he get this fresh set of balls? Sonya asked herself, made uneasy by Thomas¡¯s hidden resolve. She had no idea he had any fight in him, but here he was, protecting someone with the possibility of death inches away. She only admired him more now. Why are all the good ones taken?


    Sonya sighed. Thomas had called her bluff. Every second she held him at knifepoint now was a second wasted. She sheathed her weapon and hopped down from her horse, Thomas instinctively held Aimee back with a guarding arm as Sonya moved closer.


    ¡°That¡¯s close enough.¡± Thomas¡¯s stare was commanding.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have time for this crap.¡± Sonya leveled a finger at the pin in Aimee¡¯s hair. ¡°That pin was stolen from a carriage bound for the Holy Capitol. A group of knights rides this way looking for it and its thieves.¡± She was very plain with them. Without using force, the truth was the quickest option.


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll give it back to them,¡± Thomas said, relaxing a little at getting some answers. His eyes remained locked on Sonya, though.


    ¡°Not an option. They¡¯re out for blood on this one. If they find it, they¡¯ll turn this town inside out. No one would be safe.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous,¡± Aimee chimed in. The Holy Knights protect the people. They would never hurt anyone.¡±


    Sonya raised an eyebrow at her. ¡°What¡¯s your name, sweetheart?¡±


    ¡°Aimee. Now offer me yours.¡±


    ¡°My name is far from important. What is important is this situation. Do you believe that crap you¡¯re spouting? That the Holy Knights protect people?¡±


    The woman stood up straight and grew sure of her words. ¡°Yes, I do. The Holy Knights serve the gracious Royal Family and spread the will of Ovaro. They¡¯re kind and just. Why would I have any reason to believe otherwise?¡±


    Sonya wanted to vomit in her mouth. She tasted bile, so she might have already. ¡°It¡¯s obvious you¡¯ve been getting your information from the Church. I can¡¯t blame you though. This monarchy of this country has been twisting the minds of the people for generations.¡± She claimed, and before either could voice a retort, she continued. ¡°Have you ever met a Holy Knight?¡± She asked.


    ¡°No, but I¡­¡± Aimee began, but Sonya cut her off.


    ¡°Well, I have. They¡¯re mean, they¡¯re tough, and they¡¯ll do whatever it takes to get the job done. Right now, that job is finding a thief. Believe me when I say I¡¯ve seen them do some pretty fucked up shit.¡± Her expression grew dark.


    ¡°Forgive me if I find it hard to dismiss my long-held beliefs,¡± Aimee said, defensively.


    ¡°Look¡­¡± Sonya shook her head in her hand. ¡°I¡¯m trying to help you here. If you won¡¯t give up the stupid thing, will you at least hide and pray they leave? That¡¯s your best shot.¡± She was almost pleading. ¡°There¡¯s no harm in that.¡±


    Thomas was still staring into her, seeming to size her up, read her. Then he asked the one question Sonya didn¡¯t want to answer. ¡°What is all this to you?¡±


    ¡°Move now, and I¡¯ll tell you!¡± She thought it a fair compromise. ¡°We don¡¯t have time!¡± As if to emphasize this point, Sonya caught sight of a dust cloud rising from the road in the distance. Her eyes flooded with fear. ¡°Go now!¡± She yelled.


    Thomas grabbed Aimee¡¯s hand, eye¡¯s still on Sonya. ¡°Alright, but you¡¯re coming with us. Better you¡¯re not out causing trouble if this happens to be a trick of some sort.¡±


    Sonya relaxed. ¡°Fine by me. Let¡¯s get the hell out of here!¡± She grabbed the reins of her horse. ¡°Where to?¡±


    Thomas led them to his house, which wasn¡¯t far. As they ran up to it on the road, Thomas called back. ¡°There¡¯s a stable around back!¡± He was getting worked up, adrenaline seeping into his system. ¡°Follow me!¡±


    Sonya¡¯s horse was led into a spare stall and the gate shut tight behind it. All three headed back to the front door. Thomas threw it open with little care and the group piled into the house.


    ¡°What if we just hide the hairpin?¡± Aimee suggested, almost half-heartedly. She still didn¡¯t believe there was cause for alarm.


    ¡°No good.¡± Replied Sonya. ¡°We know something, and my bet is the knights will sniff that out. We need to disappear.¡±


    ¡°I have an idea,¡± said Thomas. He ran across the room to a little closet. He threw open the door and cleared some boots and other items out of the way, revealing a small handle embedded in the wood of the floorboards. He gave it a good heave upwards, and the trap door swung open on old, squeaky hinges.


    ¡°You have a cellar?¡± Aimee asked.


    ¡°Yeah, but we only ever use it for storage. You two get down there. I need to get my mother.¡± He left the hatch open and ran down the hall.


    Sonya didn¡¯t waste any time. She hurried to the closet and made her way down the ladder. Aimee stood where she was, hesitant. ¡°You coming?¡± Sonya questioned, peeking back up over the lip of the opening.


    ¡°This is all such nonsense,¡± Aimee complained, arms crossed.


    ¡°Look, I know you don¡¯t trust me¡­¡± She was cut off.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t.¡± Aimee was getting tired of this. She wanted so desperately to continue the day as it had been.


    Sonya sighed. ¡°Do you trust Thomas?¡±


    Aimee paused, seeing herself caught in a trap. ¡°With all my heart.¡±


    ¡°And what did your dear fianc¨¦e ask you to do?¡±


    The frustrated woman paused further, hesitant still. She had faith in Thomas¡¯s instincts, and he seemed worried about this, if only slightly. So why wasn¡¯t she trusting him? This won her over and she casually made her way to the cellar, albeit with some reservation.


    ¡°I expect some answers,¡± she said as she lowered herself down the ladder after the stranger.


    When she got to the bottom, Sonya was already seated on a crate in the corner, the light glow of an oil lamp she had lit gently bathing the little room in yellow. The shadows about her face made her seem more untrustworthy to Aimee than she already was.


    ¡°Well, what do you want to know first?¡± The woman asked as Aimee sat across from her.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± She wasted no time.


    ¡°Sonya. Just your average scoundrel.¡± This wasn¡¯t exactly accurate. Sonya was much more, but that wasn¡¯t any of the woman¡¯s business.


    ¡°I want to know how you know my fianc¨¦e.¡± This topic seemed to get Aimee worked up a bit. Sonya could see it in her posture. She was stiff and her face showed her jealousy.


    ¡°It¡¯s really not a big deal. I made a pass at him, and he turned me down. End of story.¡± Sonya noticed Thomas¡¯s continued absence and, as if on cue, he scurried down the ladder, the hatch shut tight behind him.


    ¡°My mother¡¯s not here,¡± he was more than worried. He scratched nervously at his arm


    ¡°Does she know about the hairpin?" Sonya asked.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°No, she doesn¡¯t.¡± The thought seemed to calm him down a little.


    ¡°Then she¡¯s safer than she would be otherwise. Sit.¡± Sonya pushed a little crate over his way with a heel. She was more than a bit anxious, and she hoped it didn¡¯t show. What I wouldn¡¯t give for a smoke.


    ¡°What do we do?¡± Thomas asked.


    ¡°We sit tight and wait. Hopefully, the knights won¡¯t find out the damned hairpin is here, and they¡¯ll move on.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the likelihood of that happening?¡± He questioned.


    Sonya seemed to think for a moment. ¡°It depends on the resolve of whoever¡¯s in command of this company of soldiers.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the best-case scenario?¡±


    She looked at him, a tinge of hope flooding her features. ¡°Lieutenant Eton. If he¡¯s leading them then there¡¯s a chance things will be civil. He¡¯s a killer, like the rest of them, but he knows mercy.¡±


    ¡°And the worst?¡± This was from Aimee. She was becoming interested in the conversation, despite her misgivings about its necessity.


    Sonya flicked her eyes to the woman, a haunting look about them. ¡°Captain Leon Groyce. If he¡¯s here, which I doubt he is, then we¡¯re all screwed. That man would torture a child just to hear the mother scream, and bathe in the sound like it was a hot soak after a month¡¯s travel.¡±


    The description caused a chill to run down Thomas¡¯s spine. ¡°Well, from your experience, it looks like our odds are pretty good.¡±


    Sonya nodded. ¡°I¡¯d say.¡± Her feet were tapping about from a lack of tobacco, and she wished she had grabbed her pouch.


    Just then there came a heavy pounding on the door of the house, heard distantly by the group down in the cellar. Thomas and Sonya froze, and Aimee gave a slight jump at it. They all waited and listened intently, tension rising in them. It came again.


    ¡°We should go talk to them,¡± Aimee suggested.


    Sonya looked at her like she was insane. ¡°Are you stupid?¡±


    The insult made Aimee flush with anger. ¡°You are a rude woman,¡± Aimee countered.


    ¡°Rude or not, I¡¯m a survivor.¡±


    ¡°Aimee, maybe we should lean towards caution. If this woman is right, then she¡¯s saving us. If not, then I seriously doubt the knights would condemn us for our suspicions.¡± He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder as he said this. He felt her muscles loosen under his touch.


    ¡°Alright, dear. You¡¯re right.¡± She wasn¡¯t happy about it though. She wanted to leave.


    Yet again, there came the pounding upstairs. ¡°This is Avers with the Holy Knights. Under the command of the Holy Family, grant me entrance!¡±


    The group waited in silence, sweat forming on all brows, save for Aimee¡¯s. She still didn¡¯t see the need for worry.


    ¡°Captain!¡± Shouted the man at the door. ¡°Captain Groyce, Sir! No one answers, Sir!¡±


    Thomas turned to Sonya, and he could see just how pale she had grown, despite the low light. Her mouth was slightly ajar and a noise like a mouse squeak drifted from it. Her body quivered. She seemed soaked in terror.


    A powerful voice boomed in response to the knight at the door. ¡°Disobedience is treason. You¡¯re permitted forced entry. Kill all inside.¡±


    This was a life-changing thing for Aimee. Not only was she just invited to dance with death, but her belief system had collapsed with only a few words. She grew faint and leaned against Thomas, holding her head. ¡°This¡­this is wrong. Something is wrong. We need to talk to them. This is obviously a misunderstanding.¡±


    ¡°Shut up, you stupid bitch,¡± Sonya hissed under her breath, her voice shaking. ¡°Or we¡¯re all dead.¡±


    Without another bout of pounding, they heard the door upstairs being kicked in. It slammed against the wall as it swung its weight wide, the hinges squealing. It was followed by the long, slow scrape of a sword pulled from its scabbard. Heavy, cautious footsteps plated in steel sounded throughout the house as the knight walked from room to room.


    Sonya had her knees pulled up to her chest and she hugged them tightly. Memories flashed through her mind. Memories so horrible they brought tears to her eyes. For the briefest moment, she regretted not listening to Colt. She regretted coming here. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry,¡± she repeated over and over to herself. The words were so close together it almost sounded like nonsense.


    The man above them walked past the closet. The group froze, their blood running cold, and the breath stilled in their lungs. No one made a sound. Aimee slipped her hand into Thomas¡¯s and gripped it tight.


    After a thorough search, an agonizing few minutes that felt like an eternity, the knight walked to the door again. ¡°Sir! There¡¯s no one here! They must be in town!¡± With that, the sound of his clanking armor faded as he rejoined his company.


    ¡°Oh fuck, oh fuck¡­¡± Sonya was rocking back and forth, her head in her hands. A single tear broke free and ran down her face.


    Thomas looked at her with concern. ¡°We still have a chance for everything to be alright, don¡¯t we?¡± He squeezed Aimee¡¯s hand and she clutched his in response with an iron grip, her opinion on the situation changing the more time passed.


    Sonya didn¡¯t hear him. She continued to mutter to herself and stare off into nothing at some unseen horror meant only for her. ¡°I was so small¡­just a girl¡­just a girl¡­just a¡­¡± She felt a hand fall gingerly on her shoulder and it made her jump violently, yelping at the unexpectedness of it. Aimee stood near, concern on her face and in her touch.


    ¡°Sonya?¡± Aimee ventured. ¡°Are you alright?¡± She was worried too, but this woman seemed traumatized. ¡°Who is this Captain?¡±


    Sonya stared up at her, wide-eyed. ¡°The Ravager of Daro,¡± was her only response.


    ¡°That murderer from Baldorum? What does he have to do with this?¡± Asked Thomas.


    Sonya laughed, despite her tears. ¡°Yeah, Baldorum. Go on believing that.¡± Her voice cracked with another laugh that almost turned into a sob. ¡°This shit goes so deep. You wouldn¡¯t believe me if I told you. Besides, it¡¯s none of your business.¡±


    ¡°That man upstairs given permission to kill my mother and I just made this our business,¡± Thomas said, a little heated.


    Sonya looked at him, almost cross. ¡°You keep surprising me, Thomas.¡± She wiped tears from her eyes. ¡°Do you two know what happened in Daro?¡±


    They both nodded. ¡°We heard the stories. Baldorian troops snuck in from the mountains to the east and raided it. They killed everyone¡­¡± Aimee trailed off.


    ¡°It was worse than that! I was there!¡± The woman was losing herself. ¡°I saw people dragged from their homes and killed in the streets! Some were even sealed inside and burned alive! Men, women, children! All dead!¡± Fresh tears blossomed from her wet eyes. ¡°Yalum is dead, Thomas. Leon is an animal!"


    "How did you survive?" Thomas asked. Sonya only froze up, caught in another personal nightmare. She looked as though she were about to crack.


    Aimee had a blanket of realization settle over her. Here was a woman that lived through a horror, telling them their lives as they had known them were ending. ¡°Maybe¡­maybe everything will be alright.¡± She didn¡¯t sound like she believed her own words.


    ¡°Leon was looking for someone in Daro¡­he didn¡¯t even have proof the man was there, and he burned the town to the ground.¡± She had calmed a little, but only because she had slipped back into a memory. The recollection of it caused her to shake as she spoke. ¡°History repeats itself. If he¡¯s here, it¡¯s for a reason.¡± She pointed to the pin in Aimee¡¯s hair. ¡°That reason.¡±


    Suddenly, Thomas and Aimee wanted to leave and find their parents. Find them and bring them back to safety. They both grew increasingly uneasy, constantly looking back to the ladder.


    ¡°What can we do?¡± Asked Thomas.


    Sonya shook her head. ¡°Nothing. Right now, I bet soldiers are blocking any way in and out of town. Yalum is small enough, they can do it with no trouble.¡± She sniffled. ¡°Anyone that seems like they have more than half a brain will be questioned. The rest will be sport. Women will be raped, men gutted, and children pulled apart.¡± She didn¡¯t sprinkle sugar on her words. ¡°They like it. Don¡¯t you understand? They like it!¡±


    Thomas ignored her craze and looked her dead in the eyes. ¡°I ask again. What can we do?¡±


    Sonya just stared back, hollow, empty, hopeless. New tears grew and fell down her face in streaks. Her lips trembled and she shook her head again. It made Thomas tense up. He was thinking of his mother. Where she could be and if there was any way to get her down here with them.


    Sonya could sense the panic in the room. Aimee had begun to nervously pace back and forth, little sobs of her own coming from under her cupped hand while Thomas seemed ready to spring from his little crate and fly up the ladder into the town. Neither of them was helping her mental state at all and Sonya felt the need to curl up into a ball.


    Their heads were flooded with so many terrible thoughts that neither Thomas nor Sonya noticed Aimee was already at the top of the ladder and halfway out the hatch. It was the sound of it slamming that alerted them to her departure.


    ¡°Aimee?¡± Thomas looked around, then immediately put two and two together. ¡°Aimee!¡± He shot up and started towards the exit in a mad dash, tripping over another small crate and clawing back up and to the ladder, all the while screaming her name. ¡°Aimee!¡± His heart pounded so hard it hurt. He frantically climbed the ladder. Adrenaline pumped so fast through him he was dizzy with it.


    Thomas felt a tugging at his pant leg. He looked down, face ghostly white with panic, eyes nearly bloodshot. He almost wore a sneer over clenched teeth as he looked for what had stopped him. Sonya looked back up at him, her face contorted in an expression of horror and sorrow, moisture wetting her whole face.


    ¡°Please¡­don¡¯t leave me all alone. I don¡¯t want to be alone¡­¡± She sobbed the words.


    Thomas didn¡¯t even think about it. He ripped his leg free of her desperate grasp and with another slam of the hatch, he too was gone.


    Sonya went back to sit alone in the darkness with only a weak light for company. The companionship she longed for was Colts. He¡¯d always been there. Ever since Daro. She wondered where the man was. Was he looking for her? What would he think of her right now?¡±


    You¡¯d probably tell me to stop crying like a fucking child. The image of Colt scolding her with a look of distaste made her chuckle a few times through her sobs. It soon turned into semi-hysterical laughter, and she wiped away tears with her palms. Sonya found the courage to walk over and mount the ladder, fighting back another wave of sobs. Or was it laughter? She didn¡¯t know. All she knew was that she must be crazy.


    Her last thought before breaching the hatch and leaving the house was how badly she wanted a cigarette. To feel calm and at ease. Her laughter was cut off from the small room when the hatch banged shut behind her.

 Chapter 7: Village of Nightmares

    Chapter 7: Village of Nightmares


    Thomas scrambled to his feet from the hole in the floor and bolted to the front door like a madman. The blood pumping through him had been replaced by liquid panic. He tore open the door and ran outside. Aimee was a tiny figure down the road, and he took off after her.


    His immediate surroundings were calm, but Thomas could hear distant screams and cries joined by the occasional clang of steel on steel. A couple of smoky tendrils stretched towards the sky from the center of town, and Aimee was running toward it all.


    ¡°Aimee!¡± Thomas called after the faraway figure again as he ran, the air hot in his burning lungs as his arms and legs pumped. She either didn¡¯t hear him or chose not to. Aimee turned a corner up ahead and vanished from sight.


    Knowing these streets well, he tore down a different road to cut her off. Right as he made the turn, he tripped, falling hard on his face. Sharp pain blossomed inside his head, and he felt warmth spreading across his face and pooling in the dirt where he lay. He felt dizzy and couldn¡¯t stand. A voice in the back of his mind told him he had probably broken his nose.


    When his eyes could finally focus, he pushed himself up with his hands and turned to see what had brought him down. Staring Thomas in the face was a woman, collapsed in the road on her stomach, limbs at unnatural angles. Her mouth was forever open in a soundless howl of agony and a crossbow bolt protruded from one sightless eyeball. The other blankly stared Thomas¡¯s way and a puddle of crimson spread out around her.


    Thomas heard a bloodcurdling scream, not realizing it was his own. He clawed across the dirt to get away. He wanted to be far from such things. Once he looked around him though, he realized he couldn¡¯t. It was everywhere, just as Sonya had described it. The streets were wrought with carnage. He was speechless, his ability to move stolen from him.


    He saw a man in armor bearing the Royal Crest kick in the door to a little house and vanish inside. He soon emerged again, dragged out a man by his shirt, and threw him to the ground. Stepping just beyond the threshold of the open doorway was a little girl, crying heavily in big, gasping wails. The man struggled to his feet and ran back with open arms to the crying child.


    Thomas watched in horror as the knight ran his sword through the man¡¯s back and kicked him off the end of his blade. The man used the last of his strength before death to attempt a crawl towards the screaming youth, who the knight proceeded to hack away at. The screaming rose briefly with each swing, then stopped altogether. With gore still covering his blade, the knight turned to chase down a woman across the street.


    Thomas lost control of his body and he vomited. Blood still gushed from his broken nose, and it spilled to the dirt as well. A wave of vertigo hit him, and he fell again, the world spinning. He coughed violently as he inhaled dirt from the road and struggled to his hands and knees after the fit.


    Looking up he saw the knight catch up to the woman. He kicked her to her stomach, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and dragged her into a nearby house as she flailed about. Her screams and his laughter were muffled by the closing of the door.


    A sudden force struck his back and Thomas hit the ground again, more blood erupted from his face and spattered the dirt. He rolled over in time to see a length of steel arcing through the air towards him. He ducked his head to the side and the blade struck the road to the side of his head. With the adrenaline in his system fueling him, Thomas kicked at his attacker¡¯s leg and caught him off balance. The knight was driven to one knee, gritting his teeth in pain. His resolve was solid though, and he rose his sword again. Thomas rolled to the side with hidden speed, muscles tightening as he put his body into motion. The blade missed its mark again, kicking up dust.


    ¡°Stop moving, you bastard!¡± The armor-clad man yelled, wincing as he tried to stand.


    Thomas scrambled to his feet and bore into the man with an iron stare. ¡°Why are you doing this?¡±


    ¡°Orders.¡± It was a simple answer, unfortunately. One that explained everything and nothing at all.


    ¡°Orders?¡± Thomas shouted. ¡°Your orders are to raze a town and its people to the ground?¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t speak of this to you.¡±


    The man stepped forward on his good leg and swung his sword at Thomas again in a downward arc. His injury had made him slow, however, and Thomas stepped to the side, almost clumsily, and lunged at the plated man. They both went tumbling to the ground in a mass of flailing arms and legs as they struggled for ownership of the sword. Thomas was strong, having been a farmworker and tender of horses most of his life, and he eventually overpowered the man of middle years. The blade fell from the knight¡¯s grip as Thomas locked a solid hand onto the man¡¯s wrist and twisted.


    The knight yelped in pain before his other hand came up as a fist into Thomas¡¯s stomach, doubling him over. He rolled off the knight, clutching his gut and gasping for air. The man found his footing and cleaved a metal boot into Thomas¡¯s ribs. An explosive pain-wracked Thomas¡¯s chest, making his already strained efforts to breathe impossible. He curled up in a protective ball in the dirt out of agony and fear.


    ¡°You act like you¡¯ve never thrown a punch in your life.¡± He didn¡¯t wait for a reply. He kicked Thomas over to his back and knelt on his injured ribs, prompting a shriek of anguish from the downed man. He futilely clawed at the armor of the knight¡¯s leg as he wheezed, moisture wetting his eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t worry a bit lad. It¡¯ll be over soon.¡± He drew a small knife from his belt and leaned in with it, grabbing a fistful of Thomas¡¯s hair and pulling his head back to expose his neck.


    Thomas eyeballed the blade with terror as it inched closer and closer. Giving up on the knight¡¯s leg, he grabbed the man¡¯s wrist with both hands, his arms flexing with the strain. He yanked hard to the side and pulled the knight off balance yet again. Thomas was given enough relief to twist out from underneath the knee on his chest and took the knife from the man¡¯s loosened grip at the same time.


    Dagger in hand, Thomas roared as he tackled his opponent to his back. He rose the blade high and plunged it down into the neck of the surprised knight. The clad man began to panic, kicking his legs in the dirt and delicately groping for the handle protruding from his flesh as blood ran in streams, increasing with each heartbeat. Nothing came from his mouth but harsh gurgles as he drowned in his own liquids.


    Thomas backed towards a nearby house and leaned against it, sliding down its worn wood siding to land slack in the dirt. Unable to tear his eyes from the dying man, he could only look on in horror as the knight fought a losing battle with his mortality.


    He had never hurt anyone before in his life. Thomas looked down at his own hands, for the first time noticing the blood that covered him. Some streaks, some blotched, but most of them spatters that peppered his shirt. He stared dumbly at the mess, not quite seeing it. Then in a frantic burst, he wiped and clawed at the stains in a failing attempt to rid himself of the stuff.


    He pulled his knees up to his chest and held his head in his hands, eyes wide with panic. This is really happening. What do I do? What do I do? He couldn¡¯t think straight. His mind was racing so fast he couldn¡¯t make sense of a single thought. One stuck out to him above the others, however, and he clung to it, repeating it to himself over and over again. Aimee¡­Aimee¡­Aimee.


    That was enough to help the young man to his feet, albeit with a few grunts as his muscles and joints screamed at him. Shaking his head clear, he cautiously walked over to the dead man before him. He was indeed dead, eyes locked open in an infinite stare that pierced the abyss. Thomas didn¡¯t want to look. The pain and guilt were too great. Instead, he searched for the dropped sword. He found it off to the side and retrieved it. He first noticed the weight of the thing. Not only the weight of the steel but the weight of its potential. The grim responsibility of using such a tool was heavy. He¡¯d already gotten a taste and wanted no more, but it never hurt to be prepared.


    He started once more down the road, sword clenched tight in a death grip that was at the same time greedy for and unwelcoming of the responsibility. His focus narrowed as he repeated his love¡¯s name in his head again. Aimee, please be safe. He didn¡¯t know what he¡¯d do if she wasn¡¯t.


    Thomas walked with some semblance of confidence towards the general store. He couldn¡¯t think of any other place Aimee would have gone. He only hoped she had made it to her father, and they were both safe. With the shape the town was in, though, he couldn¡¯t be sure.


    He thought of his mother. Thomas hadn¡¯t seen any sign of her, and his worry was a strangling grip around his throat. One thing at a time, he told himself. You can¡¯t help everyone at once. He would go find Aimee, then together they would search for his mother.


    Thomas heard a shout behind him. He whirled around just in time to see a gauntleted fist coming at him. It struck him with deadly force square across the side of the head. His vision went fuzzy, and he fell limp to the ground. A boot dug itself into his stomach over and over again, stealing the breath from his lungs. He gasped for air, breathing in blood and dust.


    Then followed an excruciating explosion of pain in his back that sent shockwaves through his entire being. Another came after as his attacker hacked away at Thomas with a sword. The blade cut deep and opened ribbons of gore that crisscrossed Thomas¡¯s flesh. He felt warm blood flow freely down his side, and Thomas began to grow cold from the shock. There came another shout, a clash of swords, and a grunting sound.


    His mind swam on the border of consciousness and his breaths became shallow. He was vaguely aware that a building near him had begun to burn and was soon engulfed in flames. The heat quickly became too much for him to bear as he lay crumbled and immobile, too weak to move away. He closed his eyes and drifted off as the inferno before him consumed those inside.


    . . .


    Aimee ran down a road of nightmares. Never in her life did she think she¡¯d ever see such sights, such pain. She didn¡¯t think the human soul could commit so gleefully to such atrocities. The expressions on the faces of the attackers were nothing short of elation, and it terrified her. She cried for the people she had known her whole life as they died around her. She cried for herself as well as she ran past them without a second glance. Her weakness was palpable, and it frightened her, but what could she do?


    Tears fresh on her face, Aimee charged up the steps of the general store. She burst through the door and slammed it behind her, barring it shut. The candles that lit the space were out, and even though daylight poured in through the windows, the place seemed dark and eerie. She tried to keep her worry and hysteria under control, but a few sharp, gasping sobs escaped her nonetheless, and she attempted to stifle them with a hand.


    ¡°Father!¡± She called out with a shaking voice. ¡°Father! Where are you!¡±


    A face peered cautiously around the corner of the stairwell in the back. A pair of eyes took her in from behind an old pair of glasses. When they saw her, they widened. Don emerged from his hiding place and ran to his daughter, arms wide and welcoming. ¡°Oh, thank Ovaro! My precious girl!¡± He kissed her face and forehead, his tears wetting her skin. ¡°I was so worried.¡± He squeezed her tight. ¡°What in the name of Ovaro would cause the Holy Knights to turn on the people?¡± He didn¡¯t expect an answer, but he got one.


    Aimee gently caressed the pin in her hair, the feel of it on her skin was almost revolting now, yet still, the trinket represented so much joy for her. ¡°It¡¯s this¡­¡± she murmured, eyes becoming vacant as she drifted in thought. She recalled her memories of sitting underneath the giant tree with Thomas, their laughter, their moments exchanging words laced with love. She thought of his smile, his kindness. Suddenly, her need to be by his side was overwhelming. She ached for him as she felt her heart sink into her stomach. The void it left behind in its place was a suffocating, deep pit that ruled her.


    Her father placed a caring hand on his daughter¡¯s cheek, bringing her back to the here and now. ¡°The pin, dear? What do you mean?¡± He was confused, and his brow furrowed to show it.


    She ignored him, grabbed his hand, and pulled him towards the back of the store. ¡°We have to leave!¡± The anxiety in her voice was unmistakable. ¡°We can¡¯t be seen!¡±


    Together, they ran to the back door. As they came up to it, the door shook in its frame. Don and Aimee froze, a terror creeping into them. A heavy force struck the door a second time, and its hinges screamed with the strain. Scenarios flashed through Aimee¡¯s mind, all ending in her death. She felt helpless in this moment that demanded an iron will.


    Luckily, her father took hold of the situation and fled up the stairs with his daughter pulled close behind. As they reached the top, the door below them was kicked in, a loud crashing sound boomed through the shop and up the stairwell. They ducked into the doorway at the top leading to their living space and locked the door behind them.


    ¡°What are we going to do!¡± Aimee panicked.


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    ¡°Keep a level head, my dear. We¡¯ll see through this, I promise you.¡± Her father somehow managed to sound encouraging, despite their peril. ¡°Come with me.¡±


    He led her across the small living room to his bedroom in the back, locking that door tight as well once they were inside. They both heard pounding footsteps coming up the stairs and Aimee fought to suppress her fear.


    ¡°Father,¡± she started, feeling a choking sob crawl up her throat. ¡°I¡­I can¡¯t do this.¡± Tears grew in her eyes and her lips shook as she tried to control herself. ¡°I¡¯m scared.¡±


    Her father turned and grabbed hold of both her shoulders. ¡°I failed to protect your mother.¡± He sounded pained, but he smiled through it. ¡°I won¡¯t let you down, too, sweetheart. The moment that burglar¡¯s knife pierced my love¡¯s heart I knew I would shake the earth with my resolve to save you from the harshness of our world.¡± His eyes were kind, his words as sure as steel. ¡°We will live to see the sunrise, my dear.¡±


    Aimee was somehow reassured. Either by his words or by their definite sureness, she was soothed to some extent. That didn¡¯t stop her legs from shaking or her tears from falling, however.


    ¡°What do we do?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Come, dear. This way.¡± He guided her to a window that led to the roof. He pulled it open and pushed her to it. ¡°You, first. I¡¯ll be right behind.¡±


    It was obvious he meant for her to slide down the roof and to the ground. On a normal day, she would have thought it crazy, but today was anything but normal. The doom trailing behind them superseded any fear of heights she had and made this feat seem trivial by comparison. Aimee didn¡¯t think twice about crawling through the open window.


    She only had one leg over the sill when the door at the top of the stairs was kicked in like the first. The sound sent a shockwave of dread through them both, and soon there came a pounding at the door to the bedroom, the last barrier between them and their deaths. In Aimee¡¯s panic, she almost fell getting her last leg out the window, but her father provided a steady hand.


    ¡°Hurry along, dear. I¡¯ll be close behind.¡± He let go of her hand, the loss of touch froze Aimee¡¯s blood and stole what little bravery she had mustered.


    The door trembled as it was kicked by a heavy boot.


    ¡°Father?¡± There was the beginning of a terrible realization growing within her as she looked into her father¡¯s eyes. Those eyes only looked at peace as Don¡¯s whole face smiled back at her.


    ¡°What¡¯s my favorite phrase, dear?¡± He asked.


    Aimee held back a sob. ¡°Everything will be right as rain¡­¡± She went pale.


    ¡°That¡¯s my girl.¡± With that, he slammed the window shut and locked it.


    Adrenaline shot through her body as she clawed desperately at the edges of the window, trying to remove the obstacle that separated her from her father. She managed no progress, however, and the window remained. Her father turned to an old sword resting in the corner of the room and drew it from its scabbard, letting its blade breathe after many long years of rest.


    The door buckled with another heavy kick, the hinges snapped, and the door fell to the floor at Don¡¯s feet. In stepped a man clad in armor, the mark of the Holy Family and The Star of Ovaro shining brightly as light from the window poured in and threw reflections about the room.


    ¡°Father!¡± Aimee cried as she pounded on the window desperately.


    The attacker stepped forward, sword sweeping in a downward arc. Her father parried with a clean upward swipe of his blade, deflecting the knights'' blow and casting his sword arm wide. Don kicked the knight in the chest, causing him to stagger backward. The man quickly regained his footing and Aimee watched in horror as he kicked back, throwing her father back against the window. His head struck and cracked the glass. Spiderweb fractures spread out in all directions from the impact.


    ¡°Go!¡± She heard him yell. He stood and advanced on the knight again, sword at the ready.


    Aimee turned away and ran across the roof, her movement seemed no longer her own. She looked around across the town. From her vantage point, she saw homes burning. Bodies lay strewn about the streets and the screams drowned out all other sounds. The most dominant noise to her though was the pounding of her own heart in her chest.


    She heard a whistle as a crossbow bolt passed inches from her head, causing her to lose her footing. Her ankle bent at a sharp angle, and she collapsed, hitting the roof and rolling down its sloped surface. Her hands searched frantically for purchase as she slid, but they found none. She reached the edge and fell to the ground, landing on her arm. An explosive pain shot through her body as she heard the loud snap of a breaking bone. A scream erupted from her mouth, and she clutched the dead arm with her free hand.


    Everything will be right as rain, she said to herself through the pain. She struggled to her feet, the throbbing in her ankle making it difficult, and staggered toward the alley beside the shop. She could hear shouts from behind her and charging footsteps. The panic she felt enabled her to fight through her body¡¯s aches and she made for the narrow opening.


    Aimee felt a strong hand grab her long braid and she was yanked hard off her feet to her back. She looked up in terror at a grinning man who licked his lips as he peered down at her.


    ¡°Well, well. Aren¡¯t you a pretty one?¡± He squatted on his haunches as he pulled her head up by her hair. ¡°Do you know what I¡¯m going to do to you?¡±


    Aimee¡¯s face was covered in tears and dirt, her mouth quivered, and she sniffled as she sobbed. ¡°Please¡­please let me go.¡±


    The knight shook his head. ¡°Not a chance. I bet you¡¯re as tight as they come. I¡¯m not passing this up.¡± The gleam in his eyes was an evil thing. He stood and began to drag her to the door of the shop, and she wailed and flailed as she was pulled along the road.


    ¡°Havor!¡± A booming voice called out and the knight froze. He turned and looked into the face of a mounted man clad in superior armor. The knight dropped his fistful of blonde hair and snapped to attention.


    ¡°Captain!¡± He gave a small bow.


    Captain Groyce loomed over the two. ¡°What are you doing, soldier?¡±


    ¡°I was just about to have a bit of fun, Sir.¡± He seemed puzzled.


    Leon dismounted and strode over to the man and the panicked woman. Aimee curled up in a ball on the ground and wished desperately to be somewhere else. The captain of the knights looked down at her and a sparkle in her hair grabbed hold of his focus.


    ¡°Well now. I thought I saw a glimmer.¡± He knelt and grabbed her face with a death grip, smashing her cheeks and mouth together. The man pulled a dagger from his belt and held it up to the corner of her eye. ¡°I bet you have quite the story to tell me.¡± The tip of the knife pressed against the white of her left eye and she reflexively jerked her head away from the sting, but the man held firm. ¡°Start talking.¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± she sobbed, ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re asking of me.¡± The tip pierced the soft flesh of her eye and she screamed in agony. The pain was beyond anything she had ever felt before in her life. New tears poured from her eyes, mixed with fresh blood, and rolled down her face in streams.


    ¡°Don¡¯t fuck with me, girl.¡± The captain growled. He grabbed the pin in her hair and tore it from her head, a tangle of blonde came with it. He held the hairpin up to her face. ¡°You''re going to tell me where you got this.¡± His voice was like fire.


    ¡°It was a gift!¡± She shrieked. Her whole body trembled, wracked with pain and fear.


    ¡°From whom!¡± The man yelled.


    Aimee paused for a moment, not saying a word. She stared up at the captain as her vision in the punctured eye began to fail her. Her silence was a mistake, though, and the knight captain held her head against the ground and dipped the blade¡¯s tip toward her eye again.


    ¡°No! Please, please don¡¯t!¡± Aimee pleaded; her face contorted in an expression of unthinkable terror. Through the fingers of the hand that held her head, she saw the brilliant steel close in. She was too paralyzed to clench her eyes shut. Too shocked with disbelief to do anything but watch. Aimee''s dissociation quickly deflated the second the cold metal slipped under her eyelid.


    The Captain dug his knife behind Aimee¡¯s left eye, cutting through flesh. Aimee screamed like she never had before, thrashing about and clawing at the man¡¯s hold on her face. Warm blood gushed from the mutilated meat within her head and ran down to fill her other eye. What remained of the girl''s vision reddened, casting the world she saw the shade of horror. With a sickly, sloppy sound, accompanied by the tearing of wet flesh, the eye came free and was ripped from her socket. The crushing pain made her dizzy and she felt on the verge of vomiting. Aimee brought a hand up to the hole in her head, still screaming and rolling on the ground. The noises she made didn¡¯t sound human as she rolled in her own fluids pooling around her head in the street.


    The Captain held the freed orb up to his face and inspected it, turning it over several times. "Such a stunning blue." He complimented the eye itself, not the screaming woman. "Thieves do not deserve the eyes with which they mark their spoils. Liars do not deserve the tongues that give birth to their twisted words." The man dropped the eye and it plopped down in front of the writhing woman. It stared up at her as if in wide wonder, but with no sympathy for her suffering. "Will you lie to me, girl?"


    Aimee only shrieked and rolled in the dirt like an animal. Her cracked, bloodcurdling screams and sobbing vied for dominance over each other, creating an unintelligible cacophony that split her mind as much as the pain did.


    "What shall we do with her, Sir?" The clad man asked uneasily, clearly put off by the display.


    The captain looked up at his knight. The man was still standing at stark attention. ¡°This might take a while,¡± he said.


    ¡°Shall I prepare a room for interrogation, Sir?¡±


    Groyce looked back down at Aimee, who was curled up tight, sobbing with a hand to her face. ¡°Yes, immediately.¡±


    Everything will be right as rain, was Aimee¡¯s last thought as she was dragged back into her own home, her cries echoing down the streets bathed in blood and fire.


    . . .


    Thomas woke from the blackness to the tickle of grass upon his cheek. He tried to lift his head and pain tore through him. He let his face drop back down to the soft grass and he suffered through a fit of coughing that lit the gashes on his back on fire and he cried out with the intensity of it.


    How long have I been out? He had no way of knowing. Is Aimee safe? Is she alive? He shuddered with the thought and a wave of sorrow washed over him and tears flowed soon after. They crept down his face and turned red as they crossed into the blood-caked there.


    Thomas became aware of others around him. Moans, cries, and gasps of pain. He painfully turned his head and saw other people once his eyes adjusted. He gathered they were survivors, like him. Several were awake. A child cried in the limp arms of a motionless, slumped old woman, her jaw and other features were slack. A man lay on his back, sobbing, shaking, and weakly holding a hand to a large cut on his face that left his eye hanging from its socket.


    Closest to Thomas was a sobbing redhead hunched over the body of a dark-haired woman, her face smashed in, and her throat cut open from side to side. The redhead had a hand to her face as she cried and the other held the hand of the dead brunette. Through the mix of shaking fingers, curls of red hair, and tears, Thomas could see a colony of freckles dancing across her face.


    Another bout of coughing from Thomas caught the woman¡¯s attention and she looked up at him with startled disbelief. She stared into Thomas¡¯s lazy, tired eyes. After a pause, she jumped to her feet and ran off, her footfalls on the grass fading. Thomas heard distant discussion that turned into shouts of surprise. Soon, more footsteps approached from behind him, and he heard his name.


    ¡°Thomas!¡± It was Sonya. He knew that much. ¡°Thomas! Thank Ovaro, you¡¯re alive!¡± She said, kneeling at his side.


    Sonya carefully pulled up his shredded shirt to check his back. She applied something to it that stung, then lowered his shirt again.


    ¡°Aimee¡­¡± Thomas managed through gasps of pain. He felt the urge to allow himself to pass out again, but he resisted.


    ¡°The knights left a while ago,¡± she said, ignoring him.


    Thomas''s concern began to rouse him from his daze. He put the heels of his hands on the ground and was barely able to push himself up to his hands and knees. ¡°Where¡­is Aimee?¡± He said through a wave of vertigo that threatened to pull him back down to the ground.


    ¡°Your wounds weren¡¯t fatal, but you¡¯ll need to rest.¡± She avoided it again. She looked as though she were holding back a dreadful truth, tears swam in her eyes from the burden.


    Thomas struggled to his feet, his many cuts and bruises pounding him with agony. ¡°I said where is Aimee?¡± He was able to yell it this time. Sonya didn¡¯t say anything. She only held his gaze.


    He managed a few painful steps and his wounds bit violently at him, but he stayed standing. Looking around the field of survivors, he found no sign of his fianc¨¦e. Thomas turned his attention to his town, a good many of the buildings still on fire, and began the excruciating walk back. A hand rested on his shoulder, and he lashed out at it in anger. Sonya was there, hurt in her eyes.


    ¡°Don¡¯t go, Thomas,¡± she pleaded.


    Thomas once again disregarded her in this request and turned toward the town. Sonya let him go, tears in her eyes.


    It took him a while to make it through town. Bodies and debris lay strewn about the roads. He found he was numb to it all. The pain, the gore, the smell. It all stung his senses. He staggered down the main street where the market had been. Everything was in shambles. Wares of a wide variety littered the road all up and down its length and not a single stall was unmarred.


    Thomas turned a corner to find a long line of pikes stuck in the ground, bodies impaled on the end of each one. He was gripped with terror as he took in the sight. Every corpse was stripped naked and scarred beyond recognition. His eyes moved from one to the other, seeing each as the work of a demon. It scared him to know such evil existed in the world.


    He walked along the line of bloody poles, searching the features of each body. Some he had known all his life; some had been close friends. He brushed one of the poles as he passed it, his hand came away red and sticky. Thomas didn¡¯t bother with the mess on his fingers and let it stay. He kneaded the slick goo between two fingers, unbelieving.


    Then he saw her. There, towards the end of the line, was Aimee.


    Thomas struggled to make the last few steps to her. Like the others, she rested high up on a pike, impaled through the back. Her arms and legs hung down, swaying gently in a soft breeze, her bloody hair danced with it.


    At first, Thomas didn¡¯t believe any of what he was seeing. He felt empty, a blank slate. He failed to remember where he was, what he was doing. His mind had shut off. Nothing made sense. He very slowly reached out a trembling hand, and when his fingertips brushed the dangling foot of the dead woman, it made all he was seeing, real. Reality came crashing in on him so aggressively he was overwhelmed with all around him. He had never before felt such a strong urge to just turn off. He wanted to not see, not feel, to be gone. He wanted to desperately to die.


    Shaking, he fell to his knees, tears filled his vision, and he screamed.

 Chapter 8: Hollow

    Sonya usually rolled most of Colt¡¯s smokes, so she had a fair amount of tobacco strapped to her horse along with a random assortment of other supplies they needed for their travels. Her horse, amazingly, was still shacked up in Thomas¡¯s stable. She was sure the hell brought to the small town would have spooked the animal and encouraged it to break out. To her surprise, though, the beast was still there. Shaken, of course, but there. Part of the luck was undoubtedly due to the fact Thomas¡¯s house was so far removed from the rest of the town that it had been spared the fires and bloodshed. The only things that made it to the little home were screams and the distant, hot glow thrown by the town as it burned.


    To the rickety residence, they had come. She, Thomas, and anyone else found who still drew breath. That number was low, though, and even amongst the few she had saved from death, some died soon after. Out of the handful of wounded survivors, Thomas was in the worst shape. The man had suffered two nasty slashes to the back with a sword, a broken nose, several broken ribs, the worst concussion he¡¯ll ever have, and waiting for him was a lifetime of nightmares yet to come. Regardless of all the abuse and trauma, he was still alive. On the outside, that is.


    Sonya sighed, a deep sound from the pit of her being that disappeared into the night, and pulled a smoke she had previously rolled from her tobacco pouch. She lit it with a worn oil lamp sitting next to her on the porch and took a deep, long drag that was more than well deserved. Her exhale was just as long and carried just as much stress as it did smoke.


    Sonya had decided that she loved smoking. Everything about it spoke to her. The taste, the smell, the addiction, and most of all its ability to soothe wounds of the mind and soul. She wished she could just breathe the stuff all day. Her battered self could use some constant soothing right about now. Although, Thomas would soon need that more than her.


    Her mind drifted to the broken man. She thought about what must be going through his head, if he had even woken up. The events of the other day had worn on him heavily. Ever since she had torn him, kicking and screaming, away from the horror show in town the other day, he had spent their whole time here in complete isolation.


    She knew he wasn¡¯t eating, either. The few bits of food she had left for him outside his bedroom door had gone to waste, uneaten. On several occasions, she had tried knocking and even attempted going in uninvited but was met with silence and a locked door.


    Honestly, she wasn¡¯t surprised. Out of anyone she could think of, she was most likely the last person he¡¯d want to see. For good reason too. Sonya was singlehandedly responsible for all the newfound turmoil in his life. The thought made her take another long pull from the smoke she held in a shaking hand.


    Sonya faintly heard the front door to the house open and shut behind her on squeaky hinges. The sound echoed through the darkness, but she showed no signs of noticing. She just continued to stare off into the sea of stars overhead as wisps of smoky tendrils drifted up from the cigarette she held. Sonya barely registered the redhead sitting down next to her on the steps of the porch.


    ¡°Everyone is finally asleep,¡± Molly muttered after a while.


    Sonya twirled her cigarette in her fingers a few times, staring at it blankly, before offering it to the sullen woman. Without a second of hesitation, Molly grabbed it and took a deep puff of the acrid smoke. She found it as delicious as Sonya did. Her exhale was a similar, deep thing.


    Molly turned to Sonya, her earthy brown eyes looking deep into Sonyas'' of rich hazel, and offered her the rolled tobacco back. Sonya took it but held the gaze shared between them a moment longer. She had obviously seen the redhead before, but this was the first time she was seeing her. The woman was strikingly pretty. Delicate red curly hair of shoulder length framed a gentle face. A group of freckles marched across her nose from cheek to cheek, and she had very kissable pouty lips. Thoughts that had no business populating her mind during this hard time found their way in and began to distract her. She could sure use a distraction right now. Molly was infectiously seductive without even trying.


    Now I see why you became a whore. The thought almost made Sonya laugh. She held back tears instead. There was no room for laughter right now. Not for a while. Or maybe laughter is just what I need.


    ¡°What about...¡± Sonya began.


    ¡°Still locked in his room,¡± Molly answered prematurely.


    Sonya let out a sigh. ¡°I figured as much.¡± Then there was a moment of quiet before she spoke again. ¡°How are you holding up?¡±


    The question must have struck a chord with her because she began to tremble at its utterance. Her lower lip began to quiver, and her eyes filled with moisture. Molly tucked her legs up against her chest, hugged them, and softly cried into her knees. Sonya reached out a comforting hand and rubbed Molly¡¯s back, her face sagging with the weight of the day, the smoke hung loose in the lessening grip of her lips. Molly had been strong up to this point but, like her, she had been holding back the pain. Sonya just had more practice. It wasn¡¯t a skill she was proud of.


    ¡°We¡¯ll get through this,¡± Sonya reassured.


    Molly brought her gaze up to Sonya, eyes still wet. ¡°How? How does someone go through that and still have the strength to go to sleep at night and face it all over again in their nightmares?¡± Molly was getting slightly worked up, so Sonya pulled her into a tight embrace to calm her.


    ¡°You may not see it yet, but the good dreams will come again.¡± It wasn¡¯t a lie; it would just take a while to be true.


    Molly shivered from the nibble of the night air as a small breeze overtook the two. Sonya opened her cloak and took the woman into its depths. Her shaking gradually ceased as her chilled skin warmed. Molly¡¯s arms soon found their way around Sonya¡¯s waist, and she buried her face in the hollow of the blonde¡¯s shoulder. Her breathing grew steady as she relaxed, finally finding some comfort.


    They stayed that way for a while, Sonya occasionally holding her smoke up to Molly¡¯s lips so she could take a drag. Despite the events that had transpired and the horrors swirling around in their heads, the night was surprisingly peaceful. They both took in and were eased by the buzzing of insects, croaks of frogs from a nearby pond, and the wind playfully rustling the tall, dry grass. The combination created a calming effect that washed over them.


    Sonya winced and let out a small cry as her smoke burned her fingers. She had let it get too short while her mind wandered. It fell to the wooden steps, and she stamped it out with a curse. Molly already had Sonya¡¯s hand in her own, rubbing and kissing the pain in her fingers away.


    ¡°Thanks, hun,¡± Sonya said, her irritation already subsiding.


    ¡°It¡¯s no problem, sweetheart. I¡¯m a whore. It¡¯s my job to comfort.¡± She kissed Sonya¡¯s fingers again.


    ¡°Do you enjoy giving comfort?¡± Sonya asked her.


    ¡°I¡¯m not asking you for any coin, am I?¡± Molly smiled up at her.


    Sonya chuckled at that. ¡°No, I guess you have a point.¡±


    ¡°If you wanted to do me a kindness in return, then I wouldn¡¯t mind if you rolled another smoke for us.¡±


    Sonya gave her a big grin. ¡°My kind of woman.¡± She tossed her a wink and reached for her pouch as Molly giggled. It felt good to joke around and laugh again. I did need this after all.


    ¡°So¡­¡± Molly started, seriousness creeping into her voice, ¡°what do we do next?¡± She took the smoke from Sonya and lit it with the lamp.


    Sonya hadn¡¯t given this much thought, but she knew it needed her attention. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I guess we deal with what we have right now and get back on our feet.¡± Sonya held out her fingers for the cigarette and a long pause followed as she inhaled deep of its richness and stared into its red-hot cherry, losing herself in the small, smoldering ember. ¡°Colt would know what to do¡­¡± She whispered.


    It was the first time she¡¯d thought of Colt since that day. He had come to her aid in her time of need, swords swinging, anger and furious might on display for all to see. He had forced her to run and hide, and like a coward, she had obeyed. Sonya had watched from a distance as the giant man had been subdued and captured. She hated herself for just watching, for not doing more.


    ¡°He¡¯s a good man. I hope he¡¯s alright,¡± Molly said.


    ¡°He¡¯s a tough bastard. Honestly, if he doesn¡¯t find freedom himself then he¡¯ll last long enough for me to bring it to him." She sounded reassuring but she couldn¡¯t help but feel worried. ¡°Did you find the two silver he left you?¡± She added.


    A smile grew across the woman¡¯s face, and she chuckled. ¡°I thought that was his doing.¡±


    ¡°He likes you.¡± Sonya puffed more smoke. ¡°More than most. I never thought he¡¯d pay you two silvers.¡±


    ¡°Do you not think I¡¯m worth that much?¡± Molly pouted as she inched her face closer to Sonya¡¯s.


    ¡°No, no. That¡¯s not it. Colt just doesn¡¯t think any woman is worth a silver piece, let alone two.¡±


    ¡°Regardless, it was very generous of him.¡± Molly was close enough to whisper it in Sonya¡¯s ear, her breath tickled and caused a shiver to crawl up her spine.


    Molly snatched the smoke from a distracted Sonya and pulled away, happily puffing on her prize. She scooted even closer, which Sonya didn¡¯t even think possible at this point, and tucked her bare feet amongst Sonya¡¯s own. Now they were so intertwined they might be mistaken as one person at a distance. They smoked in silence for a long while, happy to have the company of another. The night continued and the two marveled at the peace brought by the darkness.


    Daylight eventually began to crawl over the distant mountains and scare away the shadows lurking amongst the bones of the town. Knowing the time made Sonya realize just how tired she was. She rubbed her face and finished what must have been her tenth smoke. Looking down at Molly, she saw the woman had dozed off. Sonya chuckled softly as she brushed hair from the sleepy face and gently kissed the crown of her head. In these hard times, affection felt good going both ways. It made her feel human after such an inhumane experience.


    Molly stirred under Sonya¡¯s cradling embrace, her legs stretching out to full extent then quivering slightly with the pleasure of it. She yawned and dug her face deeper into the woman she clung to.


    ¡°Good morning.¡± Her voice was muffled by folds of cloth but that didn¡¯t diminish the sweetness in it.


    ¡°Sleep well?¡± Sonya asked, holding Molly closer and rubbing her shoulder. ¡°Dreams, nightmares, or a peaceful void?¡±


    Molly shifted and rested her head in Sonya¡¯s lap so she could look up at her. ¡°Only dreams, thanks to you.¡± She turned her head and nuzzled her face into Sonya¡¯s stomach, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.


    ¡°Me? What did I do?¡± She raised a questioning eyebrow.


    ¡°Do I really need to say it?¡± She looked back up into those hazel eyes.


    ¡°You might have to,¡± Sonya laughed. ¡°My brain is a little fried at the moment.¡±


    Molly giggled. ¡°Only if you roll me another smoke.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m starting to think you only want my tobacco,¡± Sonya laughed, but she grabbed her pouch, nonetheless, and began sprinkling shreds of dried tobacco leaf into a worn, ragged paper.


    ¡°I want more from you than just your tobacco, girly.¡± She made a grab for the smoke after Sonya sealed it with a quick swipe of her tongue, but it was pulled away and held from reach.


    ¡°Not so fast.¡± She held the cigarette pinched between two fingers and swung it gently side to side, taunting. ¡°Tell me first.¡±


    Molly said nothing. She snaked a hand around the back of Sonya¡¯s head, grabbed a fistful of her blonde hair, and pulled her down as she leaned up towards her. Their lips met in a deep kiss that took Sonya by complete surprise. Her eyes widened and she dropped the smoke. It tumbled end over end into Molly¡¯s open hand, but the acquisition didn¡¯t end the moment. The kiss continued at Molly¡¯s lead. It was only when Sonya¡¯s shock began to melt away that Molly retreated.


    Seemingly pleased with the result of her efforts, Molly sat up with a smile and lit the smoke, leaving the girl dumbstruck. Sonya reached up and touched her lips. They tingled ever so slightly, and her muscles shook even less noticeably so, but still, her body¡¯s reaction was unmistakable. She had liked it, and she wanted more.


    ¡°How much do I owe you?¡± The joke came from a place of nervousness that Sonya couldn¡¯t hide. Molly could probably read her like a sign. Usually, Sonya was the one to take charge. She was always in control and aimed to have this effect on others. To have it the other way around was a new experience for her. She had never felt this intimidated before. Molly had the reins.


    ¡°You¡¯ve paid already, sweetheart. Tenfold.¡± She took a drag and blew the smoke out into the morning air. ¡°You saved my life by dragging me out of that terror.¡± She gestured towards town with the cigarette. ¡°I¡¯m yours.¡± Molly held out the smoke to Sonya and she took it after some hesitation.


    ¡°Just like that?¡± Sonya asked.


    ¡°No, not just like that. You earned me. Like you said to me earlier, you¡¯re my kind of woman. You had sass when I first met you in the bar. You showed strength and bravery when pulling people from buildings and fighting those intent on killing us. Most of all, you showed kindness when caring for the wounded. How could a girl not fall for you? I liked you before, but I''m crazy about you now."


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Sonya was at a loss for words, which was a rare thing that she didn¡¯t ever recall experiencing before. She always had something to say. It was her nature. She leaned back on her elbows and sighed. ¡°Well, you sure know how to be forward.¡±


    ¡°As I¡¯ve said before, I¡¯m a whore, hun. I wouldn¡¯t be a very good one if I wasn¡¯t forward,¡± she remarked.


    Just then, the door to the house slowly opened and closed behind them. Sonya merely glanced back but gave all her attention when she saw who it was.


    ¡°Thomas¡­¡± She started, but she trailed off. The man ignored her and walked past the two women and down the steps of the porch, a shovel clenched in a tight grip and an old bedsheet draped over his shoulder.


    ¡°I hope you¡¯re feeling better, Thomas,¡± Molly said after him as he walked away. She didn¡¯t know him, but she heard what he had been through. She wanted to assure him he¡¯d receive nothing but kindness from her. A friendly face when he needed one. She, too, was ignored.


    ¡°Just let him go, Molly,¡± Sonya told her. ¡°He needs to take care of something.¡± Sonya ached for the broken man. No one should have to go through what he was about to do.


    The pair watched Thomas leave in silence as he went to go bury his love and the old Thomas along with her.


    . . .


    It only took him a few minutes to reach the outskirts of town. Thomas let his muscle memory take over the journey as his mind wandered. Eventually, his attention was brought to bear when the vile results of the massacre assailed his senses. Everywhere he looked he saw splatters of gore and blood, cleaved skulls, spilled entails, and various forms of dismemberment. All of it was surrounded by the thick scent of rotting flesh. It made walking the streets almost unbearable.


    Most of the buildings he passed had been reduced to stone foundations, chimneys, and scraps of metal blanketed in ash and bits of scorched lumber. The smoky smell of burning wood fought for dominance with the other revolting smells of Yalum in his nose.


    Thomas rounded a corner, sidestepping to avoid debris or the occasional festering corpse. On the left, he saw what remained of the General Store. Unlike many of the structures around him, this one was mostly intact. The urge to go inside and soak up any memories that might be waiting inside was so strong it made him ache. It took every ounce of his willpower to resist, and he continued.


    Down the main street and through the marketplace he trudged. Taking small glances from side to side, he saw most of the stalls in the market had burned down. The few that hadn¡¯t had been thoroughly raided or destroyed. Anything that hadn¡¯t been taken littered the streets.


    Thomas looked up ahead and saw he was coming to the next turn in the road. What lie around the bend dwelled so heavily on his heart that he felt weighed down. The shovel he carried seemed a burden. Even the sheet over his shoulder felt like it would drag him to the dirt. Each footfall was colossal and difficult to manage.


    As he approached the turn, he spied the first in the long line of pikes that laid claim to so many unfortunate victims. While this was the whole reason he had come out here, it was the one part of the day he dreaded the most. Thomas willed his emotions into check and took a deep breath, but when he made it to the line of pikes, he felt a familiar numbness flood him from head to toe. The world pulsed around him to the tune of his heartbeat. Sounds seemed to fade, his vision narrowed, and so did his mind. Each of his steps made his universe quake. The distance he needed to travel tripled in length, but still, he moved forward.


    He kept his eyes locked to the dirt for the entire walk down the line of bloodied poles, each passing him in his peripheral vision. The number that went by seemed monstrously large, never-ending. He began to lose himself as he thought of how many people he¡¯d known his whole life might be passing overhead, their stripped, mangled bodies cut open and drained of life. Was his mother up there amongst them? He refused to look and find out. He didn¡¯t want to know. The mental image added slack to his face and he felt dead inside.


    Finally, he reached it. Even though he hadn¡¯t looked up, he knew. Down on the ground in front of one of the poles was a large patch of disturbed dirt. Right here on this spot, he had wept bleeding and shaking, curled up in a ball. Then screaming and clawing to stay as Sonya had tried to drag him away. He remembered lashing out at her. He had struck with a swift blow across the side of her head, but she had hit him back twice as hard, leaving him too weak of body and mind to fight her off.


    This was it.


    Thomas brought his gaze up the length of the pole, trying to distract his mind from what he needed to do by noting the grain of the wood, the chips, the splinters. He realized soon that he would fail. The wood became gradually stained with blood, then caked with it the further up his eyes went. Near the top, it was a thick, coagulated mess. His heart thumped hard in his chest, and it made his entire body lurch ever so slightly.


    His eyes, at last, came to rest on the body of his once bride-to-be. Aimee¡¯s naked flesh had turned a sickly pale, her back arched downwards, limbs stiff and dangling. Her hair hung down, motionless, no wind to play with it.


    He didn¡¯t scream this time. He didn¡¯t have the strength. As it had before though, the world came rushing back in on him all at once. Sounds, sights, smells, and feelings struck him together without mercy. He felt overwhelmed, heavy. He knew he would never know peace, joy, or love again.


    He felt so alone


    It took him a while before he had the courage to bring down the pole. Thomas put down the shovel and sheet and grabbed the pole with both hands. He gave the pike a small push, tears welling up in his eyes. His face became contorted from the sorrow he felt down to his core. He eased up and leaned into it a little harder, uttering a small, pained cry this time that barely escaped him. He let up one last time, and with a final shout that split the ghostly silence of the town, pushed with all his might.


    The pole began its descent, but Thomas couldn¡¯t watch. He whirled away from the sight, covering his ears and clenching his eyes tight. He shut out everything around him as the woman he loved swung down at the end of the pole and hit the dirt with a sickening crunch. Even after he knew it was over, he stayed that way for a while, hiding from the world, shaking.


    Finally rejoining reality again was a slow thing, but he eventually managed. He dropped his hands to his sides and sluggishly opened his eyes. An effort that felt like it took hours. He felt dizzy and teetered back on his heels, but caught himself. Thomas slowly turned his head and saw her there on the ground from over his shoulder, still impaled at the end of the pike. He turned and walked loosely towards her, knowing he¡¯d have to get her off the end of the pole and dreading the process. He just wanted to be done with this so he could mourn, but Ovaro wanted nothing for Thomas to be easy, it seemed.


    He had to put his foot on Aimee¡¯s shoulder to pull out the gore-splattered wood, and his hands kept sliding along its length in the slick blood. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry,¡± he muttered, each repetition growing more unintelligible as he choked back his heartache. Each task along this road he walked took more and more willpower than the last. Willpower he didn¡¯t think he could spare anymore. For Aimee, though, he would do anything. Even suffer.


    At last, the pole came free, and Thomas fell backward from the sudden release. He quickly scrambled over to her. He wanted to roll her over. Wanted to see her face. Wanted to tell her he loved and missed her. Wanted to close her eyes and say goodbye. To tell her he was sorry.


    Thomas gently turned her over with quivering hands and a held breath. He was more than horrorstruck. What little color he had in his face quickly left him. His eyes became flooded orbs of such unimaginable, depthless sorrow. His mouth opened in a gaping maw unleashing so harsh a scream of pained misery. He was a torn man before, now he was empty. Aimee had no eyes to close and no ears to hear his parting words. Her tongue had been cut from her mouth and her nose from her face. Nothing was left to say goodbye to. Only open, rotting flesh and maggots remained.


    He was frantic in his need to cover her with the sheet. He fell back, spun around, and clawed his way across the dirt to where the cloth rested. He unfolded it and rushed to drape it over her. He didn¡¯t want to remember her this way. Again, it was something that seemed like it took ages. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes like hours.


    Thomas imagined he sat there for at least an hour, head in hands that curled and flexed to dig into his face, sobbing. A small breeze had picked up and it caressed the white sheet. The cloth gently fluttered and rolled with the wisps of wind that flowed over it, both hiding and emphasizing the shape of the body underneath in a horrifying display of reality. Thomas only looked up once and the sight turned his stomach.


    Get this done. She needs to rest. Let her rest, he said to himself. It was enough to get the man to his feet. With the smallest of reservations, he stumbled over to the covered body. Thomas knelt and began wrapping the sheet securely around Aimee. The stiffness of her limbs along with the smell was almost enough to send him reeling. He coughed more than a handful of times during the process and his nose burned from the stench. Moisture pooled in the lower recesses of his eyes for reasons other than his anguish.


    Summoning the last ounce of strength he had left in his tired, beaten body, Thomas stood over his fianc¨¦e with the shovel in hand and bent down. He felt the gashes in his back pop and tear as he grabbed her. Fresh, warm blood soaked his shirt, making wet the dried stains already there. With a grunt that was all pain, both from within and without, he heaved her up and over his shoulder.


    The walk through town was hard. Memories flashed past his mind''s eye the whole way. Memories of hand-holding, Aimee¡¯s gentle kisses, the smell of her hair during a long embrace, the dancing in town. Reminders of his loss kept coming, tormenting him. It was all gone and he had the proof of that slung over his shoulder.


    Soon, it started to rain. On any other day, he would have found it inviting and refreshing, but now it only seemed to add to the thought that Ovaro was looking down on the man and laughing. The rainfall made the dirt under his feet slick, and he nearly fell several times. Even if he had, he¡¯d get up again and endure. All for Aimee.


    Thomas left town along the Western Road, headed towards the place he would bury this part of his life, to bury what he thought would be his future. The rain continued to beat against his face, hiding what tears had streaked down his dirty cheeks. The only hint left at his inner pain was his empty eyes that seemed to stare off far into some unseen abyss where he watched hopes and dreams flutter to life then fade away in an endless loop that tugged and ripped at his soul.


    When he finally reached the big tree on the hill, he was soaked from head to toe. This was the spot. This is where he wanted to bury her, where he thought she might want to be buried. It was beautiful, peaceful, and bathed in pleasant memories. He wanted to drown in what lingered here, to give himself over to them, but not yet. He still had more to do.


    Thomas bent and rested Aimee gently against the trunk of the mighty tree and began the grueling task of digging. He stabbed the moist earth with the head of the shovel and scooped out a chunk of dirt, tossing it to the side. He didn¡¯t care how tired he was, how much his wounds opened, stung, and bled. He dug without stopping, heaving rocks out of his way and hacking through roots.


    When the hole was deep enough, he lowered her into its depths. For some time, he stood and stared down into the pit at the wrapped figure, not wanting to cover her and say goodbye just yet. He found this part to be the hardest; letting go.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Thomas began shakily, his voice sounding foreign in his ears. He felt like a stranger in his own mind. ¡°I miss you, Aimee.¡± Tears welled up in his eyes and he sniffed, rubbing his nose with the back of a dirty hand. The action made his face ache, but he could care less. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I wasn¡¯t there for you¡­I¡¯m sorry I wasn¡¯t strong for you.¡± He stood in silence for a while longer, then stooped to grab the shovel. Staring down one last time, he took a gasp of air. ¡°I love you.¡± The words were hard to say and came out cracked. There was no reply, just wind, and rain.


    He shoveled the dirt back into the hole. Time was an unseen thing. For all he knew, it had taken days. When he was done, he fell to his knees and finally allowed himself to relive all the glorious memories they had shared, each brought with it as much grief as it did joy. He made no marker for her grave. He wanted the tree to be her headstone, this grand design of nature that would outlive him and his memories.


    . . .


    After tending to the wounds of the injured scattered on makeshift beds throughout Thomas¡¯s house, Sonya yet again found herself sitting on the front porch, smoke in hand. She honestly didn¡¯t want to be without one ever again. She was starting to worry that she¡¯d run out soon. The thought made her want to smoke more.


    To her side sat Molly. Even though the woman was 5 years Sonya¡¯s senior, the redhead had taken to her like a lost puppy, following her everywhere and always clinging to her as if she would disappear if she didn¡¯t hold on tight. Sonya knew it wasn¡¯t the tobacco she wanted either. Molly was always so close, so personal. To be honest, Sonya loved it, whatever it was.


    She turned to her curly-haired shadow. ¡°Molly¡­have you ever thought about getting out of the business you¡¯re in?¡±


    At this, Molly laughed and took the smoke Sonya held. ¡°You just want me all to yourself, don¡¯t you, girly?¡± She dropped Sonya a wink and took a puff. She exhaled smoke and stared off at the mountains in the distance. ¡°Yeah, I have thought about it. I think my days of pleasuring for coin are over and done with.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± Sonya said, taking back her cigarette. ¡°Maybe you just want me all to yourself.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s the smartass I met at the drink house,¡± Molly laughed. She turned towards Sonya and leaned in closer, palms on the deck. ¡°I really like you, girly.¡±


    Sonya gave a small smirk. ¡°But you barely know me.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I like you so much because I want to know you better.¡±


    ¡°Is that why you want to give up whoring?¡± Sonya asked.


    Molly had to think about this. It was a good question. Her decision had come from her gut, and she followed it without considering why. ¡°Yes¡­¡± She said after a pause. She leaned back and stared off into the distance again.


    Sonya looked up to the sky. It was already midday. The morning dew had been soaked up by the sun and a steady heat had settled in. Even though a light wind blew, it was warm and soothing. She held out her hand and was passed what remained of the cigarette they shared.


    ¡°I wonder if that poor boy is alright,¡± said Molly.


    ¡°Honestly, I bet he¡¯s having a hard time.¡± She sighed.


    Sonya touched the side of her face where Thomas had struck her. It¡¯d bruise a bit, but it wasn¡¯t anything she hadn¡¯t experienced before. Thomas was as strong as an ox from all the farm work he did, but he didn¡¯t know how to fight. The punch had been lost on her. The blow to the head she had dealt him in return, however, had been savage and something he¡¯d remember the rest of his life.


    Then they saw him. He displayed a heavy, slow walk up the road to the gate of the fence surrounding the property. He brought back neither shovel nor sheet. Thomas pushed open the gate with a lazy hand and stumbled up the path to the porch looking as dead and empty of soul as what he had just buried. Sonya¡¯s heart ached for him.


    Thomas approached the steps and plopped down onto them. He paid no mind to the two women. As far as he was concerned, they didn¡¯t even exist. The bags under his eyes were thick and his face sagged with the weight of every emotion a man could feel. He just sat there and stared off into nothing with his two empty, pained eyes.


    Molly extended a hand and gently began to rub the man''s back. The sudden and unexpected touch caused him to flinch, and Sonya could tell his muscles had all grown tense. He soon relaxed and accepted the minor comfort. Even so, neither of them dared to say a word, not yet.


    Fortunately for them, they didn¡¯t have to. ¡°What happens now?¡± The man asked without averting his eyes from the personal void he stared into. His voice sounded coarse, like he hadn¡¯t spoken in weeks and his throat had turned to stone.


    ¡°Do you want my opinion?¡± Sonya asked. ¡°Or do you want me to say what you want to hear?¡± She began rolling another cigarette.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have asked if I wanted lies. I can tell those to myself easy enough.¡± He sounded distant, lost.


    Sonya stared at the smoke she had just rolled, deep in thought. Honestly, everyone needed to hear something different. For Thomas, she didn¡¯t know what that was. She popped the smoke into the corner of her mouth and lit it with the head of the old one, then passed it to Thomas. He turned his head and looked at it, the first real movement he¡¯d made since sitting down. Sonya wondered if he was even registering it. He seemed to look right through it.


    To their surprise, he took it. He just didn¡¯t know what to do with it. So, Sonya walked him through the motions. Neither of the women so much as chuckled when he was subjected to the inevitable bouts of coughing. He must not have minded it, though, because he went right back to smoking the thing.


    He''s probably loving that first rush, Sonya thought. It¡¯ll help take his mind off things.


    Thomas finally made eye contact with her. It seemed he had finally rejoined them. ¡°You never answered my question,¡± he said. He took another puff and only coughed a couple of times.


    ¡°You¡¯re smoking my answer,¡± she pointed out with a smirk. ¡°Lets you think more clearly. Now you¡¯ll be able to come up with an answer of your own.¡± Sonya knew she had given him exactly what he needed. He proved her right when he looked at the smoke in his hand, curls gently drifting up from its ember, and gave it another pull. No cough came. He stared far off again, but with calmed nerves and nodded thoughtfully.


    ¡°¡­Thank you.¡± He finally said.


    It was her wisdom he appreciated, but he enjoyed the smoke all the same.

 Chapter 9: The Weight of Fear and Misery

    Colt spent the first day of their journey watching them smoke his tobacco. They would roll a smoke, do a piss-poor job of it, and light it with the spent remains of the previous one. The mangled remains of the dead cigarettes were always snuffed out on his bare skin. The same spot every time. He would neither clench his teeth nor make a sound. All he would give them was frustration at not feeling in control.


    The knights had stripped him of all his dressings and his weapons, save for his pants. Everything he owned had been passed around and traded amongst his captors as trophies. Colt knew they would cherish these keepsakes to remember the time they caught the Bear of Corvallia. So, rain or shine, night or day, he¡¯d suffer through the whole ride to Vendara half-naked. He¡¯d been through much worse.


    The company didn¡¯t fear pursuit, so they camped early. The sun was still a few hours from hiding behind the mountains and they had already started pitching tents and building fires. Soon the smells of smoke and roasting meat mingled with that of his tobacco, all things that made Colts senses dance.


    The cage wasn¡¯t tall enough to stand in, and he was chained in such a way that prevented him from sitting or lying down. His arms were shackled high to the top of the cage, and he almost hung there. Even so, Colt refused to show his exhaustion. He¡¯d die kneeling in this cage before he begged for relief. He¡¯d show them the strength of his resolve, and it would hold them captive with awe.


    On the rare occasions where he wasn¡¯t being burned, poked with swords through the bars, or spat on, he¡¯d be allowed to his thoughts. Mostly his mind ran through his options for escape. When would he do it? How would he do it? Important questions, no answers. His biggest obstacle was Leon Groyce. That man had been a thorn in his side for far too long. Something would have to be done about him. Again, when and how were what first popped into his tired mind.


    As if summoned by his thoughts, Leon approached the far side of Colt''s mobile cage. His armor rattled and clanked as he walked. The man practically lived in his armor and was seldom without it. He peered in at him through the hastily smithed iron bars, the diminishing sunlight casting a hatch of shadows upon the captain¡¯s face.


    ¡°Well, well. It¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve laid eyes on you, old friend.¡± He showed Colt a set of teeth that seemed to have their own hunger. It had been years since Colt had considered this monster a friend. Leon¡¯s use of the word to his face was an insult, and Groyce knew it. The Knight Captain was trying to shake the tree. He would be more than disappointed when nothing fell from the branches.


    ¡°Leon,¡± Colt greeted dryly with a subtle nod. ¡°Still the King¡¯s dog, I see.¡± He added a smirk to the tail end of the remark.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to rot in a cell, Colt.¡± Leon slowly walked around the cage. ¡°Rot without eyes. Eyes that I¡¯ll rip from your skull.¡± He walked beyond Colts'' left side and was passing behind him. ¡°Rot without hands.¡± He leaned in and spoke softly. ¡°Hands that I¡¯ll hack away at until you have nothing but stumps.¡± Leon appeared around Colts'' other side in his peripheral vision. ¡°You deserve worse.¡± Leon stopped, once again in front of the cage. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure you get your dues.¡± He smiled again. ¡°As a traitor, you¡¯ve earned it.¡±


    Colt uttered the faintest of chuckles. ¡°You¡¯ve always been one for dramatics. I was hoping that habit would have died by now. Some things never change, I guess.¡±


    Leon stared hotly at the caged giant. He maintained a cool composure, but his eyes told a different story. They blazed with hatred. ¡°You threw away greatness for your weak ideals and a child! Greatness, Colt!¡±


    Colt merely scoffed and held the man¡¯s stare. The tension between them could have set the air itself on fire. They hated each other, and only a set of iron bars prevented them from showing just how much. The cage not only confined The Bear but kept the peace in the little camp as well. There was no telling what would happen if the knights could get at him with more than sword tips and cigarette butts.


    Groyce raised a hand, a beckoning gesture. A young knight came running over. ¡°Yes, Sir?¡± The man spoke as rigidly as he had bowed. He looked nervous, shaken. His brethren, on the other hand, were calm and enjoying their downtime. It was as if they hadn¡¯t just massacred a town of their own countrymen.


    ¡°You are to oversee the prisoner. He is to be given only enough food and water to survive, no more.¡± With that, Colt¡¯s new guard bowed, voiced his understanding, then nervously bowed again as his captain left.


    Colt immediately smelled opportunity all over this man. He gave the tiniest of grins. ¡°Boy,¡± Colt croaked. The knight looked startled, having been caught off guard. ¡°Listen to your captain and fetch me some food and drink, then you can get back to sharing stories of your glorious battle with the mighty villagers of Yalum with your fellows over there.¡± Colt pitched his head in the direction of the other knights gathered around the fires. There was no sarcasm in his voice, but Colt knew it would sting worse that way, and he knew this man would feel that sting. It was all over his face.


    The young man didn¡¯t reply but Colt swore he saw a look in his eyes. Was that guilt? Regret? Sadness? He¡¯d have to dig into the boy. Colt had never known a Holy Knight with a conscience. This one was already turning out to be very interesting, and Colt had only just begun.


    The young knight wandered off hastily, a sour look about him and a clank to each footfall. It wasn¡¯t long before he returned. He carried a small piece of bread and a bucket of water from a nearby stream. He dropped the bucket at the foot of the cage without much care, causing some of its contents to slosh out and wet the dirt.


    He alternated feeding Colt the bread through the bars and spooning him water from a large wooden ladle. The burly man ate and drank greedily as if the sustenance were his first in many days. It was all to gain sympathy, of course.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you could roll me a smoke, too? Could you, lad?¡±


    The knight ignored him, dropped the spoon back into the bucket, and walked back to the campfires that were casting flickering shadows off his companions in the spreading darkness. He didn¡¯t join in their conversations.


    Colt saw this as a win. Even though he hadn¡¯t spoken a word to his captive, Colt had learned much about the young man Captain Groyce had put in charge of him. He would use his newfound knowledge to his advantage. He just had to have patience, and Colt was teeming with patience.


    . . .


    Thomas sat in the shade of the mighty tree on the hill, a cool breeze caressing his skin. His senses ate up the world around him. The soft rustle of the tall grass in the fields at the base of the little knoll where he rested was a soothing chorus. He smelled a subtle fragrance from wildflowers that made his body sigh in pleasure with every breath. He was calm and at peace.


    He felt wonderful. So much so, he feared he could get used to it. With his head back against the tree, and his eyes closed against the warmth of the sun, he allowed a smile to grow on his face. Nothing was missing in this perfect moment.


    A sweet duet from a pair of birds overhead invited him to open his eyes. He spotted them high up, perched on a branch. They tweeted and cooed, dipping their heads at one another and giving their mate all the attention they could spare. Thomas¡¯s smile turned into a toothy grin as they took flight and began to dance and spiral around one another against the blue sky.


    Thomas wanted so desperately to join them up there, but he couldn¡¯t. His smile faded as he pondered the shackles that bound him to the ground. His seemingly cruel lack of freedom was a harsh jab dealt by the being known as reality. Would he let that stop him from making the best out of what he had, though?


    No, he told himself.


    His smile returned as the magic of the scenery about him sunk in once more. Its infectious sounds, vibrant colors, and wonderful scents permeated all that he was and soothed him to his soul. Washed away were any doubts, troubling thoughts, and bad memories.


    Were there any bad memories? He couldn¡¯t seem to find a single one looming in even the most remote corners of his mind. Now that he thought about it, life had always been kind to him. He¡¯d never known fear, heartache, misery, or loss. A pleasant life is all he¡¯d ever had.


    For some reason that was far beyond him, the thought didn¡¯t sit right. It rolled around in his head as an unwelcome enigma, never really gaining traction and acceptance. Thomas began to feel mentally disorganized, the puzzle pieces in his mind not quite fitting together the way they should.


    Something was missing. Something was off.


    He sat up away from the tree, the bark of which no longer felt as comfortable as it had before. Thomas looked around, looked up. The birds were gone. Not far away or moved on; gone. The sounds conducted by the landscape ceased to hold him delicately with comfort.


    Thomas stood with a sudden sense of urgency. The world around him felt off, he felt off. His hands fidgeted with the folds on his trousers nervously as he turned this way and that. The daylight seemed to lose its intensity. It didn¡¯t grow dark. It was like the light from the sun had become filtered, distorted, like a muffled scream.


    He began to walk down the hill back to the road, his nerves on edge for no discernible reason. The feeling of claws creeping up in the back of his mind unsettled him and caused his heart to race. Something was wrong, but he couldn¡¯t see what.


    Thomas reached the road and began to walk home. His feet almost stuttered across the dirt, and the jitteriness in his stride kicked up dust. He held one hand in the other, rubbing them together with worry as his anxiety grew. His eyes started to dart from left to right, searching for the cause of his unrest, but he found none.


    The walk home took what seemed a lifetime, yet no time at all. His perception felt dulled, muted. He noticed the tall grass by the side of the road swayed with the push of the wind but made no sound. Soon the wind stopped altogether, and the world around him seemed to die in his ears, robbing his senses of input. He couldn¡¯t feel his hands upon one another, couldn¡¯t feel the sweat he knew was rolling down his brow.


    Darkness fell so suddenly, yet so gradually that he didn¡¯t notice the transition. He looked skyward but saw no stars to compliment the night. Only the moon looked down upon him, lighting his way, but the light from it made him sick and gave the man a sense of looming horror. He could feel a rising panic churning in his chest that beat on his heart like a drum.


    Home at last, Thomas quickly shuffled up the path to his front door and stood there, staring at the brass handle, great hesitation pulling at him. He heard a voice within him shouting to run, to get away and hide. Deeper inside, though, he also heard an equally enticing one that urged him to enter, that everything was fine.


    He reached out his hand and touched the cold metal handle. The moment he did, Thomas felt a crushing pressure upon him that made his mind scream. Chilling panic rushed in and swirled around in his depths like a violent wind. His heartbeat intensified and he could feel its thump in his chest, hear it in his head. It was the only sound left. Even his erratic breaths failed to find his ears.


    Thomas pushed open the door, it swung slowly and silently inward, and all that he was, froze. His eyes widened with fear as he tried to pick apart what he was seeing. Across the room, deep in the dark bowels of his house, stood a black silhouette of unnatural height. Its arms and legs were thin, back arched in a sickly way. It faced away from him, each pump from Thomas¡¯s frantic heart caused it to twitch.


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    He could smell death in the air. Not rotting flesh or blood, but the potential of death. Its inevitability was palpable and filled the room like thick, musty air. It was hard to breathe, adding to his panic and already fragmented thoughts.


    In the blink of an eye, Thomas found he was inside the house, halfway to the thing that seemed to embody fear, with the door closed tight behind him. He watched as the creature bent backward, almost folding over, and placed its slender, jagged hands on the floor behind it. The room about him began to pulsate, ebbing and vibrating, as the figure crawled its way to him. Each time it moved it seemed to slow down and speed up, creating a terrifying unpredictability.


    Thomas saw its face, or where one should be. All he saw were two haunting eyes. They held no detail, like holes in its head. He felt like he¡¯d fall and disappear into those pits if he let it get closer, but he couldn¡¯t move. His body refused and his mind denied.


    Despite its inconsistent approach, it was upon him in a second, standing to full height and bending over him as he gazed up at it in shocked horror. It reached up a gnarled, clawed hand to Thomas¡¯s face and dug the tips into his skin. Thomas screamed, but he made no sound. It was lost to the void that was the surrounding blackness.


    A mouth formed out of nothingness upon the things face and opened wide in a deathly maw that stole his breath and a black, bloody tongue snaked out and whipped around in front of Thomas¡¯s face. A sound came from it like a low rumble that shook his core.


    The sharp talon-like fingers raked down his face and across his eyes slowly, stealing his sight and soaking him in warm blood that gushed from his punctured orbs and open, ragged flesh. The pain was excruciating and far outweighed anything he had felt before. Tines of searing heat coursed through his whole body and the shock left him twitching and convulsing. He screamed as the blood flowed, but still, no sound left his mouth.


    The blackened tongue searched across Thomas¡¯s face until it found his gory sockets, and the length of gruesome muscle plunged deep inside one. He could feel the thing probing around inside his skull, gathering what meat was held within then scooping out its findings as Thomas choked and gagged on his own fluids.


    ¡°You¡¯re mine,¡± he heard the thing of death whisper in a voice so terrifyingly familiar it sent what was left of his mind reeling.


    He felt a desperate weight upon his soul as the horror bent down and took Thomas¡¯s mutilated head into that gaping mouth.


    Thomas¡¯s eyes shot open, and he violently tore at his sheets as he sat bolt upright in his bed screaming, drenched in sweat. His body ached all over as he shook and shivered and he knew the wounds on his back had reopened, the trickle of blood down his skin an obvious indication. He sat there in the darkness of his room, breathing heavily.


    What was that? He asked himself. It felt like more than just a nightmare.


    It took a moment for his eyes to focus on the blackness around him, but soon he could see in muted blacks and greys as his eyes adjusted. It was dead silent, save for the groaning of the house as the wind outside pushed against it.


    Thomas looked to the window. It was still dark outside, a gentle glow of moonbeams piercing the opening and providing a small amount of silvery light. He wondered if he got up and looked outside to the sky if he¡¯d see stars accompanying the moon. Thomas didn¡¯t feel like feeding his curiosity. He knew they were there.


    With a wince of pain as his body yelled at him from head to toe, he swung his legs out of bed and began dressing. He didn¡¯t dare fall asleep again. Strangely enough, he¡¯d never had a nightmare before and wasn¡¯t eager to have another. Thomas threw on a fresh set of clothes from his dresser. He knew they¡¯d be red-stained soon but couldn''t care less.


    He grabbed the oil lamp on his nightstand and struck a match to light it. The small flame grew to its peak and bathed the small room in a soft, yellow glow. His eyes corrected again. The washed-out greys and blacks took on slight color as the light was introduced to the room.


    Shadows grew to life on the walls and floor from the lamps'' tiny brilliance and Thomas¡¯s heart skipped a beat. Immediately, his blood grew cold as a spike of adrenaline hit him. His thoughts were flooded with images from the nightmare. Flashes of the horror his sleeping mind had created streaked across his memories and he felt his breath catch in his throat, but nothing happened.


    He began to calm as the shadows did nothing more than dance and sway to the flicker of the little flame in the oil lamp. Thomas brought a hand up to his head and wiped the sweat from his skin.


    ¡°Nothing to worry about,¡± he said in a whisper, trying to assure himself.


    He heard footsteps coming down the hall towards his door and he felt that spike again, the hairs on his arms standing on end. He waited, staring at the door. Soon enough, he heard a knock and a hushed voice.


    ¡°Thomas? Thomas, are you alright?¡±


    He didn¡¯t reply. He was still on edge and subconsciously distrusted everything. He waited and the person outside his door persisted.


    ¡°Thomas? I heard a scream. Don¡¯t make me kick this door down.¡±


    At that, Thomas¡¯s anxiety was put somewhat in check. He moved for the door, unlocked it, and gently pulled it open. Sonya stood on the other side, donned in a scarce amount of clothing that Thomas guessed passed as nightwear for her. Her hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists, and she wore a mix of worry and curiosity on her face. Her eyes blazed with alertness as they searched the room over his shoulder.


    No doubt she was ready to fight something if it came to it. He hadn¡¯t known her for long, but already was coming to find her mannerisms were predictable. If something threatened her or a friend, she¡¯d be ready.


    The one exception to this, he supposed, was the ordeal in town the other day. Everyone was susceptible to crippling breakdowns from trauma. He was coming to see that firsthand. He knew his suffering had just begun, too. Would he ever be alright again? Sonya still had her struggles with her past terrors, so he supposed the answer was no, probably not.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± She asked him as she squinted against the glow from the lamp in his hand.


    ¡°Just a nightmare. It was horrible¡­¡± He didn¡¯t have much more to say on the topic. He didn¡¯t want to revisit it.


    Sonya looked him up and down, probably noticing his slight trembling. She smiled and looked back up at him. ¡°Come on. I know what you need.¡± She walked back down the hall and Thomas followed. Goosebumps populated her skin from the bite the cold offered her minimally covered body, so she grabbed a blanket along the way as well as her trusty pouch of tobacco and headed for the front door.


    They both stepped outside into the chilled night air. The moon was a shining crescent high in the sky joined by a vast company of stars finished off with a beautiful, milky strip of blotchy whites, blacks, and faded blues that stretched from horizon to horizon. Thomas was so relieved to see it all that he let out a big sigh and his shoulders sunk and relaxed.


    Sonya sat on the steps and wrapped the blanket around the exposed skin of her body and slender legs to ward off any further pecks from the night air. She untied the leather strap of her pouch and began rolling two cigarettes.


    ¡°Sit your ass down,¡± she said looking up at him after the first was done.


    ¡°Is this your answer for everything?¡± Thomas asked as he accepted the smoke and, with a groan, lowered himself down next to her.


    ¡°Mostly,¡± she replied. ¡°It¡¯s at least a comfort.¡±


    Thomas nodded. ¡°You¡¯re right. It helped calm me down last time.¡±


    Sonya finished with the second and held the lamp up for Thomas so he could light his, then did the same for herself. After a few sharp puffs, their cigarettes were lit, and they breathed deeply of the delicious smoke.


    ¡°So,¡± Sonya began, ¡°tell me about this nightmare.¡±


    Thomas shuddered at its mention. He took a heavy drag off his smoke and exhaled, bouncing his leg up and down nervously as he thought about the dream again.


    ¡°It felt so real¡­¡± He started. ¡°So¡­vivid.¡± He turned to her and saw that she wasn¡¯t staring off into the night, as he assumed she¡¯d be. She was looking directly at him, waiting.


    ¡°Dreams¡­nightmares,¡± she corrected, ¡°should be taken seriously. They can mean nothing, but they can also mean everything. I won¡¯t take it lightly, Thomas, I promise.¡± She held her cigarette to her lips and pulled deeply from it.


    He said nothing for a while, just averted his eyes and soaked up the darkness stretching out before him. ¡°You know how when you wake up, it all starts to fade, the sections become disjointed and nothing that made sense in the dream makes sense anymore?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Sonya said, ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s not what happened. It¡¯s all so clear, like the images are burned into my mind. They won¡¯t go away. Every time I close my eyes, I see¡­¡± Thomas didn¡¯t finish. His mind was in a fog, and he kept losing his thoughts.


    ¡°See what?¡± Sonya asked.


    Thomas just shook his head. ¡°I miss¡­¡± He didn¡¯t say what, just lost himself once again.


    ¡°Aimee?¡± Sonya suggested. The mention of her name caused a noticeable reaction in the man. His body tensed and the grip on his smoke tightened.


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Thomas confirmed with a tremble to his voice. Moisture began to build in his vision, and he sniffled.


    There was no more to be said. With the conversation done, they smoked their cigarettes in silence until they were nothing more than short, smoldering nubs of their former selves. They pitched them into the night and remained sitting on the porch. It wasn¡¯t long before Thomas began to sob, the shadow looming over his mind drank up the sorrow and grinned as its voraciousness was satiated with each delectable drop of pain from the broken man.


    . . .


    It crawled across the floor, ragged wounds tearing open further from the rough wood. Its direction was aimless, not knowing where it was, what it was, or its purpose. It struck a wall with one gnarled, bloody hand as it swung it forward. The bent, misshapen fingers scraped across and down a wall, searching for purchase, leaving flaps of skin and flesh behind embedded in the chips and knots of the wood.


    The thing couldn¡¯t see. Its eyes were horrid, jellied balls of oozing puss that hung down and dangled from its sockets against its pale, boney cheeks. It continued to claw and drag itself along and it left a trail of blood in its wake as it went, smearing the mess around as it kicked out its legs to progress.


    The arms of the horror flailed as it moved along the floor. Its belly ripped open from a protruding nail and it flopped around madly in confusion while its entrails spilled out onto the floor. Eventually, it found its way again and continued going nowhere specific, fingernails raking.


    The skin on its body was rotted to the point its bones showed through here and there and blood constantly found a way out, dripping and seeping. The stretched leather that was its face was so diminished it revealed an endless grin. The teeth were blackened over a darting, wiggling tongue.


    Unknown to this thing, as everything was, its spilled blood began to follow it. Chunks of bone and gore slithered and rolled end over end or formed strings of coagulated webbing that clung to the creatures¡¯ body and dragged behind.


    Then one of the masses of bloody threads crept beyond the crawl of its host, latched onto some distant object, and pulled the writhing body to it. Others of the swirling clots and lumps of trialing ooze started snaking around the decaying and festering flesh of the thing, creating a pulsating second skin.


    More web-like arms of formless gore came forth, this time flinging themselves across the small space the thing lurked in. They caught on distant, unknown objects and dragged the thing along, wet sliding noises made by its passage.


    Suddenly, it sensed movement. With a snapping of bones and cracking of cartilage, it arched its body in that direction. All its activity froze, and its empty sockets stared blankly into the darkness, waiting, feeling.


    The movement came again, and without a seconds¡¯ delay, the half-living terror issued forth a dozen bloody tendrils towards the source of movement that wrapped around any manner of body and limb they could find. With hidden strength, the thing launched itself through the air towards something that was bound and thrashing and screaming. The thing tried to scream too through gritted teeth, but no sound came out. Only blood, bile, and horror squeezed like pulp through its clenched, toothy grin.


    It opened its mouth and bit down, tearing at warm flesh and fresh bone. It was bathed in splashes of hot, thick blood as it consumed meat, tooth, and bone alike. The creature continued, ripping out the eye of the panicked victim with its gnashing teeth. More bloodcurdling screams came.


    Its prey fell to the floor and flailed and clawed for life less and less with every bite. Soon, its screams of terror and sobs of desperation became gargles that did nothing but take in and expel crimson instead of gasps of air.


    The movements ceased and the squirming mass enveloped the fresh kill. It throbbed. It ebbed. It ate. A slurping of juices and crunching of bone sounded alone in the darkness.

 Chapter 10: Stepping Out Your Door

    Molly sat on Sonya¡¯s bed, nervously waiting in the glow of an oil lamp. She was a pro at remaining calm when it counted, being a seasoned whore helped her to develop that ability. She should have been able to harness that skill now, but she couldn¡¯t. All she could think about was Sonya, and it was wrecking her. Before waiting awkwardly on the woman¡¯s bed, Molly had been in her own across the house, tossing and turning. She hadn¡¯t been able to sleep for a couple of days now, and each night it had been because Sonya was on her mind.


    The thought of the young woman teased and tickled her, day in and day out. Yes, a lot of it was sexual, but also wasn¡¯t. There was a primal need to simply be near her. Molly had eyes for her ever since they first met at the drink house, and the tragedy in town had magnified that little spark into an electrical storm that coursed through her violently. Sonya was special, and Molly wanted the woman all to herself.


    Well, aren¡¯t I a greedy bitch? Molly chuckled to herself. The thought made her smile as she looked down at her fidgeting fingers.


    The door swung open, and Sonya walked in rubbing her face groggily, sporting a look that showed she had been expecting the increasingly clingy redhead.


    ¡°Something told me I¡¯d see you before the morning,¡± Sonya said to her.


    Molly looked up from her tangled hands and smiled. ¡°Oh, really? What gave me away?¡±


    Sonya shrugged. ¡°A feeling, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Will you sit with me?¡± Molly asked delicately. She could feel Sonya¡¯s eyes on her and guessed her shy demeanor was on such display that it radiated from her like heat from a furnace.


    Sonya raised an eyebrow. ¡°I honestly expected you to tell me, not ask.¡±


    Molly shrugged. ¡°Well, you make me all mixed up sometimes, hun.¡± She felt her heartrate quicken and shuffled one foot over the other, trying to distract herself from the nervousness that boiled up and threatened to overflow.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t like you.¡± Sonya smiled as she sat down on the bed, ¡°It¡¯s kinda freaking me out,¡± she chuckled.


    Molly shared in the woman¡¯s soft laughter herself but didn¡¯t look over at her. She felt stupid. Everyone has doubts about how they could have done some things differently. Molly definitely had hers. The memory of her brash kiss flashed across her mind.


    ¡°My confidence is a front. I¡¯m really quite timid,¡± she said.


    ¡°You had me fooled,¡± Sonya replied.


    ¡°Nature of my job, sweetie.¡± At this, she could see conflicting emotions pass over Sonya¡¯s face and wondered where her mind was going. What are you thinking about?


    Molly turned around and crawled to the head of the bed, hoping Sonya would follow suit. She eased down on her back and laced her hands together behind her head, eyes closed. Before long, the bed began to dip and sag here and there as Sonya moved over next to her, resting by her side. A soothing heat accompanied by the almost physical pressure of worried anticipation spread across Molly¡¯s being from head to toe.


    Her body began to tingle and become sensitive as she reveled in the closeness. She felt the soft, bare skin of Sonya¡¯s thigh press against her own, and the sensation was enough to send her heart fluttering. The urge to turn and latch onto the beauty next to her was overwhelming as her heart slammed rhythmically against her chest.


    Why did this woman make her forget all her experience? She felt like a youth experiencing the joys of the heart for the first time, and it was intoxicating. She wanted to feel like this forever. This maddeningly gorgeous moment that so long eluded her was finally within her grasp, and she didn¡¯t plan on ever letting go. Molly wanted to dive into this pool and throw away all thoughts of resurfacing.


    Is this the feeling I missed out on while I spent most my life getting my brains fucked out for some coin? Why didn¡¯t I quit sooner? What the hell is wrong with me?


    A gentle hand settled on her stomach and began to caress the skin in a circular pattern. The touch was so delicate, so wanted, yet unexpected. It caused her to flinch, but she relaxed immediately.


    ¡°Are you cold?¡± She heard Sonya ask.


    ¡°A bit,¡± she replied, eyes still closed and maintaining a calm fa?ade.


    ¡°Look at you trying to act all cool,¡± Sonya jabbed with a sweet smile, pulling the blankets over them both.


    Molly felt heat rise to her face and turn it a cherry-red in the dimness of the little room. She suddenly felt ridiculous and moved her hands down to her stomach where it met Sonya¡¯s still resting carefully on her abdomen. She wasn¡¯t expecting the joining of fingers, but it happened. Their hands wove into one another, and Molly felt the woman squeeze with a gentle pressure.


    When she opened her eyes, she saw Sonya propped up on an elbow and looking down at her, the small light from the oil lamp dancing in her stunning hazel eyes. Molly¡¯s lips parted slightly in a way that screamed of her wanting, and they trembled the tiniest bit from the adrenalin racing through her. Sonya was so close and getting closer still.


    Sonya drew in and Molly leaned up to meet her halfway, unable to stand it any longer. She wanted this so fiercely. Their lips met. A torrent of electrified heat zigzagged through her and left her buzzing. Their lips parted, only to join again without pause. Over and over again, they ate and drank of each other. For Molly, it was much more than lust. For her, she was in love with this woman, this person whom she regarded as her savior. The subdued redhead relished the thought that her days as a whore were at an end, but knew in a way, she was still owned by someone. She didn¡¯t care.


    Their ravenous entanglement died down to the occasional kiss in between long moments in which they locked eyes and soaked up each other¡¯s gaze. They lied on the bed, intertwined and holding each other tightly, encouraging as much contact as possible. Molly almost cried from an overwhelming feeling of relief at the acceptance. She buried her face, as well as a joyous smile, into Sonya¡¯s chest.


    ¡°I was worried I¡¯d come on too strong that night on the porch,¡± Molly said in a muffled voice as she spoke against the woman¡¯s smooth skin.


    ¡°Just caught me by surprise.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve felt so stupid for the past couple weeks,¡± she admitted as Sonya stroked her red curls.


    ¡°Well, you can stop beating yourself up over it now.¡±


    ¡°So, you¡¯re ok with this?¡±


    Sonya paused. ¡°I¡¯m not quite sure what this is, but then again, I¡¯ve never been allowed the luxury of romance. How would I know it when I see it?¡±


    Molly lifted her head and looked deeply into Sonya¡¯s eyes. She grabbed the woman¡¯s hand and placed it flat against her pulsating heart. Each beat sent tiny shockwaves through her whole body, and she knew Sonya could feel its intensity.


    ¡°Feel that?¡± She saw Sonya nod as she looked from Molly to her own hand upon the woman¡¯s chest, and back again. ¡°It wants you so desperately that it¡¯s trying to break free. I know you don¡¯t know what this is. I know you probably have your reservations. You might even think I¡¯m crazy.¡± Sonya started to disagree with her last words, but Molly cut her off. ¡°All I ask is you give me a chance to show you I want you to be my world.¡± She lifted a trembling hand and caressed Sonya¡¯s cheek. ¡°Please.¡±


    Sonya took a moment to study the face of the desperate woman in the scarce light. It was clear to her this interest bordered on dependency. She had created something when she pulled Molly from the terror bent on stealing her life, like it had so many others. Despite this unhealthy attachment, Sonya liked her. A lot, in fact. She had saved this gorgeous woman. Now she wanted to protect her.


    Sonya smiled and grabbed Molly¡¯s face in one hand, lifting it up to her own. She could hear the shaky breathing of the redhead, feel her slight shuddering, sense her racing heart. A soft moan escaped Molly''s open mouth as she yearned for Sonya''s touch and her eyes looked drugged and addicted. Her legs squirmed and clenched together under the covers and her hands grabbed at the sheets and twisted them in anticipation. She was hungry for words, for contact, for Sonya.


    "Are you sure?" Sonya asked her. "I rarely let go when I find something I like."


    Sonya continued to study those deep, brown eyes that almost seemed to scream yes. Molly nodded her head as best she could under the blonde''s commanding, but gentle grip. With a smile, Sonya kissed her deeply, softly squeezing Molly''s cheeks together in her hand and biting her lip at the end.


    ¡°Don''t wear a mask around me though, there''s no need. Just be yourself. I prefer the shy type.¡± Sonya cooed.


    Molly smiled into another deep kiss as Sonya grabbed the red hair on the back of her head and pulled lightly, sending a rush through her that was devastating in its power to render the redhead weakened and useless. She trembled as she was claimed by the woman she knew she was sick for, and their passion lasted until the sun rose over the mountains.


    . . .


    By the end of the first night, Colt hadn¡¯t gotten the man to speak a single word. By the end of the first two weeks, he learned the knights name and they had regular starlit conversations. It wasn¡¯t hard to see that Jarrek was out of his element amongst this band of corrupt royal swordsmen. He was intelligent, thoughtful, and was naturally skeptical of most things around him until he could get a hands-on appraisal. He was a man of learning and discovery, a thinker. Too good for this lot, as Colt saw it.


    The sun had gotten low in the sky and was just creeping behind the mountains, inviting the vast spread of twinkling stars to take their turn in dazzling the world below them with their wonder and brilliance. A light breeze carried the smells of the camp to Colt¡¯s nostrils and filled them with the smoky aroma of burning wood, roasting meat, and the oils the men used to condition their swords and leather.


    Jarrek approached the cage, bread and bucket in hand. He wore no armor tonight, so he made little noise as he walked up and set the bucket onto the soft grass. He handed the bread to the big man through the bars. Colt took it and admired its thickness. For the past few nights, Jarrek had been sneaking a piece of meat from the fire in between the two hunks of bread. The behemoth gave one of his small, rare grins and stretched out his freshly unrestrained arms before taking a bite.


    ¡°Thank Ovaro for small freedoms, aye?¡± Jarrek said as he watched the man exercise his new range of movement.


    ¡°I¡¯ll thank him for the larger ones, lad, once he grants them to me.¡±


    The other night, Groyce had moved on ahead of the company to the Capitol City to prepare for their arrival. Colt had breathed a sigh of relief at this, for the Captain¡¯s absence, along with the befriending of the Knight Jarrek, meant Colt was able to enjoy some small comforts. He was now able to sit, move his arms, and eat on his own. Very small in the grand scheme of things, but huge in his situation, now that he thought about it. Leaving would soon prove to be a huge mistake on Groyce¡¯s part. Colt would see to it personally.


    For now, Colt was biding his time and working his jailer. Honestly, he had come to like the kid. He had a good head on his shoulders. Jarrek had confided in Colt the nature of his recruitment. The lad had signed up so he could travel, fight injustice, and maintain peace. All the things most young boys in Corvallia dream of when imagining themselves older and clad in the plated mail bearing the Royal Crest and the six-pointed star of Ovaro. So far though, he hadn¡¯t signed up for anything he¡¯d seen as a member of their ranks.


    Jarrek sat on a short stool with his back to the rest of the men, their fires far enough from the cage to mostly bathe the two loners in shadow as they ate. The knight took a bite of bread with a chunk of rabbit on it. The kill of the night.


    ¡°Have they given you any trouble yet?¡± Colt gestured with a hand to the others.


    ¡°Luckily, no. They don¡¯t really care much. As long as they think I¡¯m giving you a hard time, they leave me to it. None of them wanted this job anyway. See it as grunt work. Perfect for fresh meat like myself,¡± Jarrek said. Colt could tell he was grinning in the darkness.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Colt took another bite of his food and scratched absently at the edges of his burn. It had begun to heal and, by the grace of Ovaro, not get infected.


    ¡°They¡¯re nothing but lazy sacks of shit.¡± Colt spat through the bars of his cage.


    ¡°Why do you say that?¡± Jarrek didn¡¯t care if Colt spoke ill of his fellow knights, but he was curious all the same. Although, he had his own thoughts on the matter.


    ¡°This job you have, tending to the enemy, to me. That¡¯s hard. Real fucking men challenge themselves. The killing, the raping. That¡¯s easy, yet they find glory in it. Makes me sick, lad.¡± He took another bite of his bread and rabbit. ¡°I remember you from the village. You didn¡¯t lift your sword to a single soul.¡± He added, separating him from his companions.


    Jarrek didn¡¯t say anything at first. He was silent and the hoots and hollers from the other men in the distance reigned supreme in the still night.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything about it either¡­¡± He sounded like someone who had grown pale and ill. ¡°I had nightmares that night.¡± His words had a haunted quality to them.


    ¡°Any sane man would, lad.¡± The words not only spoke to Jarrek¡¯s morality, but to the lack of it in the other knights who, as far as Colt knew, slept like babies.


    ¡°Sometimes I¡¯m ashamed to wear the armor of a Holy Knight.¡±


    ¡°Should be all the time,¡± Colt spat. ¡°This kingdom is dying. Rotting from the inside out.¡±


    The knight remained silent for a while, deep in thought. ¡°What can be done about it?¡± He finally asked.


    ¡°Cut away the dead flesh so the rot doesn¡¯t spread.¡±


    ¡°Is that what you were doing in the village?¡± Jarrek asked. ¡°Cutting away dead flesh?¡± He hiked a thumb over his shoulder towards his fellows.


    Colt chuckled, a rarity the knight wasn¡¯t yet aware of. ¡°I¡¯m no saint, boy. I was only there to rescue my partner. She ran into that mess with the aim of saving a few souls. I originally had other, more pressing matters to attend to.¡±


    ¡°Is she normally that chivalrous?¡± Jarrek smiled.


    ¡°Yes, but she¡¯s also complicated. Mostly she¡¯s a hotheaded smartass of a woman. Drives me to the edge of madness most days.¡± Colt threw his last bit of food into his mouth. ¡°She¡¯ll be expecting me before too long.¡±


    Jarrek rose an eyebrow at him in the darkness. ¡°And if you don¡¯t show?¡±


    ¡°Then she¡¯ll come get me. Although, I hope she doesn¡¯t. I can handle myself well enough. Either way though, lad, I¡¯m going.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re locked up and under guard¡­¡±


    ¡°Your point, boy?¡±


    Jarrek didn¡¯t know what his point was. Here he was in front of a man who had been hunted by the Holy Knights since he himself was a small child. He had made many escapes before and would most likely make many more. What was he to this matter at the end of the day? He looked at Colt in what little light the distant fires could afford. He was massive. For all Jarrek knew, the man could bend the bars and leave right now. Colt was right, he was going, one way or another. The knight could either be in the way or get out of the way. Oddly enough, he didn¡¯t want to stop him.


    They sat there in silence with the various whispers of mother nature encroaching on their senses. Neither of them said a word, nor could their expressions be read in the black. After a time, Jarrek stood and walked away, his footfalls growing more and more distant. Soon, Colt was alone.


    Some time passed by, and Colt watched as the circle of knights around the fires dwindled more with the passing hours until most were gone, asleep for the night. The few that remained held low conversations with occasional fits of laugher sprinkled in. All held cigarettes which cast glowing tips that hung in the night air. The red-hot cherries bobbed, swayed and swung around seemingly on their own as the men laughed and stumbled in their drunken ways.


    Colt stretched out on the floor of the cage, making himself as comfortable as the rough, splintery wood would allow. He closed his eyes, and his mind went to work, thinking of the many ways he could make his escape. He had a couple ideas already; he just hoped Jarrek wouldn¡¯t get in the way of any of them.


    He had almost dozed off when he heard footsteps approaching. Colt sat up and strained his eyes to see what or who he was hearing. Then came the metal scrape of a key sliding into the lock of the cage, followed by the tumbling of its inner workings and the solid thunk of the bolt. The door squealed as it swung open. Colt waited at the back of his cell in the pitch black until he heard as well as felt the thud of a bundle landing at his feet.


    ¡°Get dressed,¡± said a voice.


    Colt¡¯s mouth curled into the biggest of toothy grins. Good lad. Colt thought to himself. Good lad.


    He began to empty the sack of its contents and throw on what clothing and gear Jarrek could recover. He felt more and more himself as he went through his belongings and put them in their proper place. Once fully clothed, he patted himself down to see what he was missing. A couple things, sadly, but one in particular stung worse than the others.


    ¡°Where¡¯s my-¡± Colt began with a grumble as a pouch of what he assumed was tobacco sailed through the air, struck his chest, and fell to the floor in between his feet.


    ¡°I¡¯m coming with you,¡± he heard Jarrek say.


    Colt¡¯s grin broadened more as he stooped to grab the pouch. ¡°Kid, you¡¯ve earned it.¡±


    . . .


    Every morning, he woke up, got dressed, walked to the tree on the hill outside town, and talked. Sometimes it was to the woman in the dirt below his bent knees, sometimes it was to Ovaro. When his words were meant for the lover, they were sweet and filled with longing. When they were words meant for his Lord, however, they usually amounted to questions and curses.


    Why was always brought up in his talks with the silent god. Why put him through this? Why take his mother? Why take Aimee? As the days went on, he spoke to Ovaro less and less. Pretty soon, it was not at all. Somehow, he was fine with that. Thomas never much cared for the Gods anyway. All they did was take.


    Thomas leaned down and kissed the dirt covering Aimee¡¯s grave, then stood and kissed the mighty tree guarding her. He turned and took in the scenery stretching out from the hill. A gentle breeze swept in and tousled the grassy fields, launching waves across the flowing, green surface. It was a moving sight that always managed to lift his spirits. It still did to some, if only a less significant, degree. This special place had, since the razing of Yalum, adopted a dullness that he knew was there only for his eyes to see.


    He thought on Sonya¡¯s words of advice. He had been searching for his own answer ever since but had found none. Sometimes, he heard tiny, black whispers in the back of his mind. Little evil things that pricked and poked at his morality. He always shoved them down and they quieted, but they always came back later, scratching and gnawing.


    He descended the hill, walked back to the lonely dirt road, and headed home. He was relieved the wind mainly blew to the north, carrying the smells, and therefore the reminder of the Yalum massacre, away from him and his friends. Thomas knew they¡¯d eventually have to leave, there was no doubt about that. How could they stay on the doorstep of this hellscape? It was madness.


    He entered his empty home. The few survivors had healed enough to pack up and make the trip to Keln. It was just the three of them now, and he was thankful for it. He wasn¡¯t equipped to deal with the plight of others, having enough of his own already. He¡¯d have to thank Sonya for tending to them. It seemed she was everyone¡¯s hero. Despite her fears, she was a strong woman.


    Thomas walked back outside and sat on the porch, staring off into the blue sky. Soon he heard footsteps from inside the house and the door opened, a giggling pair of women joining him on the steps.


    ¡°Want a smoke?¡± Sonya asked as she sat down, Molly claiming a spot between her legs on the next step down in front of her.


    ¡°Please,¡± the man replied, not taking his gaze from the sparce clouds strewn across the sky.


    ¡°Want to learn to roll one yourself?¡± She asked as she handed Molly her own paper with a heap of tobacco on it to roll herself.


    Thomas looked over and saw what Molly was doing. She cradled the creased paper between the thumb and forefinger of one had, supporting it from underneath with her middle, and spread out the brown leaf in a line inside the depression it made as it dipped down and back up. She rolled it from the bottom up and licked the end to seal it. Seemed easy enough.


    ¡°Yeah, sure.¡± He accepted the paper and tobacco and attempted what he had just seen. To his surprise, it was difficult, and came out dilapidated and useless.


    ¡°Takes practice, I have to admit,¡± Sonya said after a light chuckle.


    She took the mess from him and recovered the tobacco, rolling him a fresh one that was neat and even, and handed it over. They smoked in silence for the first round. By the time they were on their second cigarette, though, Thomas spoke up.


    ¡°I think we should leave.¡± He said as smoke rose from his cigarette and flowed around his face.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking the same thing,¡± Sonya replied. She took a lengthy pull and exhaled.


    ¡°Would we go to Keln?¡± Molly chimed in.


    ¡°For supplies,¡± Sonya replied, ¡°but after stopping there, we¡¯ll head north to Lela. Colt will know to meet us there once he¡¯s free. We have friends who will take us in for a time.¡±


    ¡°How do you know he¡¯ll be able to escape and meet up with us?¡± Asked Thomas.


    Sonya smiled. ¡°You don¡¯t know Colt. He¡¯ll meet us. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    ¡°I believe you.¡± Thomas took another puff.


    ¡°I thought about getting him out myself, but I know he can handle himself. He¡¯d want us to move on and not worry, anyway. So, we will.¡±


    Molly leaned back into Sonya¡¯s chest and sighed out a plume of smoke. ¡°How long is the journey to Lela, hun?¡±


    Sonya kissed the crown of her head. ¡°About five days from Keln.¡± She saw her smoke was spent and flicked it off into the dirt. Molly reached up and brought her own to Sonya¡¯s lips. She pulled from it and exhaled.


    Thomas watched this display with a raised eyebrow. Obviously, he had missed something. He shrugged and tossed his own away as well after one last drag, then stood up. ¡°We should prepare for the trip then. What supplies do we have?¡±


    ¡°A fair amount on my horse. A pan, flint and steel, a spare cloak, one blanket, and some random odds and ends. Plus, enough dried food to last us a couple days. Four if we ration.¡±


    Thomas nodded. ¡°Good. That¡¯ll get us to Keln, at least. I¡¯ll go inside and gather some things.¡±


    ¡°I have enough for Molly and myself. Grab what you need and a horse that¡¯s ready to travel.¡± She paused. ¡°And Thomas¡­we won¡¯t be coming back for a long time¡­if at all. Take care of anything you need to.¡± The look she gave him was suddenly filled with pain, like she mourned for his sanity.


    Thomas nodded again, but the gesture had weight to it, had gravity. He stood for a moment longer, lost in his own mind, then turned and walked inside the house.


    He went through his room, grabbing a spare set of clothes, an old cloak he never wore from a hook on the wall, a hunting knife, and a bow with a handful of arrows he had made a few years ago for hunting small game and scaring away coyotes and wolves. It wasn¡¯t in the best of shape, but it would do. Thomas rounded up a few other things from around the house and bundled it in two spare blankets from the closet, tying it all together with a strip of leather.


    He was headed for the door when he heard an inner voice whispering in the corner of his mind. It was his own, but off somehow, and carried a hint of malice that sent a shiver up his spine. He waited and listened again, his body starting to spike his system with small amounts of adrenaline, but nothing came.


    ¡°I need to get more sleep,¡± he said to himself, convinced his mind was tired and ready to leave this place behind him.


    Thomas walked out the door, not bothering to say goodbye to the old house, which was out of character for him. Maybe he was just tired after all. He walked down the steps and rounded the corner of his home to the stables where he saw Sonya tending to her horse and belongings, Molly right there at her heels. He unbolted one of the gates and led out his favorite horse, patting its neck and comforting the animal.


    ¡°Molly, can you ride?¡± Thomas asked her.


    ¡°No, I¡¯ve never ridden before.¡±


    Thomas looked at Sonya. ¡°What do you think?¡±


    Sonya thought for a moment. ¡°She can ride with me today, and you the next to give my horse a break. Sound good?¡±


    Thomas nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll let loose the other two horses then. No sense in leaving them penned up.¡±


    ¡°I can try to ride,¡± Molly offered. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be a burden to anyone.¡±


    But you are a burden, Thomas thought. He noticed right away how unlike him that sounded and shook his head to clear it, and looked over at Sonya for her opinion.


    ¡°You sure, babe?¡± She asked Molly. Sonya raised her hand and rested it on the redhead¡¯s cheek. Molly leaned into it and turned to kiss the palm.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sure,¡± she said with more confidence.


    ¡°Can you saddle another horse, Thomas?¡± Sonya asked.


    ¡°Yeah. Divide your gear to lighten the load on your horse while I arrange it.¡±


    Thomas prepared a second horse for Molly, making sure to choose the more docile of the remaining two steeds. The other, he bid farewell to and gave a good swat on the ass. It kicked up dust as it sped off the property and into the distance.


    In seemingly no time at all, they were on the road and headed for Keln. Molly, sporting Sonya¡¯s spare cloak, rode atop her horse with some uncertainty, but it wasn¡¯t long before she steadied, and her uneasiness vanished. She was a natural. With each one of them to a horse, they¡¯d save some time.


    Good. I¡¯d hate to be inconvenienced by dead weight. The thought swooped in and crowded his mind. Again, he realized how unnatural the words sounded in his head and quickly snuffed them out, more than a little disturbed.


    Thomas neared the split in the road that led to the tree where Aimee was buried. He bet Sonya fully expected him to stop and take some time here, to say a few words and mourn. He also bet it was a shock to her understanding of the man when he kept his horse at its steady trot, not slowing even a little. Thomas didn¡¯t so much as glance over at the towering tree.


    With his back to the two women, they didn¡¯t see he was crying. Didn¡¯t see the pain in his eyes. What terrified Thomas, though, was exactly that. They didn¡¯t see. They didn¡¯t see that he had no choice. Didn¡¯t see he couldn¡¯t move his arms to steer his horse around. Didn¡¯t see the panic in his face as his mind flooded with thoughts that were in his own voice, but not of his own making. Thoughts that bit, clawed, and sunk their teeth deep into him and refused to let go. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he sensed something hideous grinning and growing stronger.

 Chapter 11: Drowning

    Sonya sat staring into the dancing flames of their small little campfire hidden amongst a copse far from the beaten road. All around her, the flickering light cast by the fire in the dead of night played across the faces of her companions and the surrounding trees. She paid no attention to the rough detail of her environment revealed by the dim, lively glow, however. While she stared into the blaze, blank and distant, her mind wandered.


    ¡°You there, babe?¡± Molly asked as she waved a hand in Sonya¡¯s face, attempting to draw her from her daze.


    Sonya blinked away her stupor and turned to the redhead. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m here.¡± She smiled and reached out her hand to cover Molly¡¯s on the ground next to her. Their fingers wove together, and the feeling was magic, fully yanking her up from the mental pit she was in and into the light where the precious woman waited for her.


    ¡°I was asking if we should turn in for the night. We have another long day ahead of us tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that would probably be for the best.¡± Sonya agreed.


    She turned to Thomas. He sat further from the fire with his knees to his chest, studying the licking flames with a greater interest than even Sonya had been. His eyes seemed fixed on nothing, almost boring through the flames with his piercing, yet vacant, gaze. His hands flexed and curled into claws, white with tension. Dirty nails dug into his bare forearms and punctured to draw blood in little crescents along his skin.


    ¡°Thomas?¡± Molly called out to him from outside his own private world, but he didn¡¯t respond. She stood and began to make her way over to the man, but Sonya extended a hand and grabbed her arm.


    ¡°Let me. You set up our bedroll.¡±


    ¡°Our?¡± Molly questioned, holding back her excitement. ¡°We¡¯re sleeping together?¡±


    ¡°Of course, and I¡¯d be lying if I said it was because we didn¡¯t have enough blankets.¡± She hiked a thumb over her shoulder to the extra roll strapped to her horse. ¡°Are you gunna complain or are you gunna make our bed so I can wrap myself around you tonight? Set up one, or two. Your choice, hot stuff.¡± She swatted Molly on the ass and the woman let out a small shriek as she took what would have been her first few strides to the horse in a single bound.


    The whole thing gave Sonya a big smile. When she turned to Thomas, however, her joy vanished, erasing her grin. The man was muttering to himself unintelligibly, and his body rocked back and forth so slightly it was almost unnoticeable. Sonya now frowned, dominated by worry and caution.


    ¡°What¡¯s troubling you?¡± Sonya asked him warily. She began to roll two cigarettes from the pouch at her waist with seasoned speed and precision.


    Thomas, to Sonya¡¯s complete surprise, looked up at her. His eyes focused, but they seemed haunted, the spark behind those windows to the outside world far away and weak. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but closed it again without uttering a single word. Thomas removed his hands from their death grip on his arms and inspected them, seeing the blood caked and partially dried there for the first time. He looked neither confused nor worried to see he had been mutilating himself while lost in a personal void within his own mind.


    He didn¡¯t even know he was hurting himself, Sonya thought, bothered.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Thomas finally said after a long pause. ¡°Nothing at all.¡± He looked around as if he didn¡¯t know where he was or how he got there, at last seeming to rejoin the same reality Sonya resided in.


    ¡°You¡¯re full of shit, Thomas. You know that, right?¡± She passed him the cigarette she had rolled for him, and he accepted it gladly, although with a shaking hand.


    ¡°I guess I can count on you to always call me on my crap,¡± Thomas said, nearly smiling.


    ¡°Wow, you almost swore. I¡¯m impressed.¡± She meant it but was also keeping the conversation light. Any attempt she could make to draw him further from his thoughts was worth the effort.


    Thomas smiled softly, but the tiredness never left his eyes. He grabbed a nearby twig and stuck it in the bed of the fire. Its tip quickly began to burn, and he withdrew it, using the end to light his smoke. He passed it to Sonya, and she did the same.


    Thomas smoked in silence for a while, occasionally flipping his cigarette end over end between his fingers. He began to lose himself in the fire once again, but he continued to puff at his smoke, telling Sonya he was still here and not drifting in some inner cosmos.


    ¡°So,¡± Sonya began, ¡°why didn¡¯t you stop and say goodbye to Aimee?¡± She drew heavily from her smoke and exhaled a large cloud that got dragged off by a gentle breeze.


    The mention of the dead lover¡¯s name made Thomas visibly shudder, and the agony he must have felt in his heart rose to the surface and displayed on his face with the barest of contortions. The pain he looked to be in was heartbreaking and Sonya felt for him.


    ¡°I¡­¡± He rose a hand to the back of his head, rubbing it as if to ward off some hidden ache. ¡°Can we not talk about this?¡±


    Sonya nodded. ¡°Yeah, sure.¡± She took another puff. ¡°Soon, though, I want you to tell me what¡¯s wrong. Lately, you¡¯ve been off. I understand loss, Thomas. Understand it far more than anyone should, and what I¡¯ve been seeing from you is something more.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± He looked found out, nervous.


    ¡°The whole day you didn¡¯t say a word to anyone but yourself. You were muttering under your breath the entire ride.¡± She took one last drag of her smoke, pitched it into the fire, and began to roll two more.


    ¡°I¡¯ve just been in my head a lot, that¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°A lot of people get lost in thought, but few have conversations with themselves. From my experience, that¡¯s called crazy.¡± She sealed the smokes shut with a quick swipe of her tongue. ¡°Which I know you¡¯re not. So, help me understand what¡¯s going on.¡± She passed him his second cigarette, which he lit with the same stick, and once again passed it to Sonya.


    Thomas was scared to say anything. Sonya could read it on his face. Something was tormenting the poor man, and she feared she could do little to help. This may be out of her hands, but she¡¯d do what she could. She knew he¡¯d do the same for her. It was in his nature.


    Thomas puffed nervously at his cigarette. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to tell you what¡¯s wrong. I don¡¯t even know what¡¯s wrong.¡± He rested his arms on his knees and one of them began to bounce up and down habitually.


    ¡°Try me.¡±


    The man¡¯s eyes darted back and forth at nothing. He looked as if he was warring with some inner palaver kept secret from her in the privacy of his mind. Sonya saw him nod his head once and shake it several times. She hoped he was simply accepting or rejecting options in his head, and not holding a conversation with himself. This encouraged her to take another, larger drag from her smoke.


    ¡°I¡­¡± He started. ¡°I should try to rest soon. I haven¡¯t been sleeping well and we have a long day tomorrow.¡±


    Sonya was disappointed, to say the least. She gave him a sharp glare, one that told him she was serious. ¡°I¡¯m always here. You need me at all, I¡¯ll be ready to help, judgment-free. I don¡¯t fuck around when it comes to my promises, so consider this me making one to you right now. Got it?¡±


    Thomas nodded. ¡°Yeah, Sonya. I got it.¡± He flicked his smoke into the fire after finishing it off with a few more sharp drags and stood up. ¡°Thank you,¡± he added, looking down at her. Despite the show of appreciation, his face remained grave and ghostly. He turned and walked off to his horse to prepare his bedroll, and each of his steps looked to be a colossal burden.


    Sonya sat a little while longer, yet again entranced by the dwindling fire and her thoughts. She hoped to Ovaro this matter was nothing more than trauma set into motion by his recent loss. If it wasn¡¯t, she had no idea what else it could be. Colt might know, but he wasn¡¯t here now. She began to miss him more than before and wished for his safety. She knew he didn¡¯t need it though.


    After a short spell of fire-gazing, she stood and walked off to get some rest. The spot Molly had chosen to set up their sleeping arrangements wasn¡¯t far, just on the other side of the horses. It wasn¡¯t cold enough to need to stay close to the fire, so she had opted for privacy over comfort, Sonya assumed.


    ¡°Of course, you set up one bedroll,¡± Sonya said with a smile as she approached and saw Molly¡¯s handiwork.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Did you want to sleep separately?¡± She asked with a great amount of timidity as she finished smoothing out the blankets.


    ¡°The fact you are so goddamn shy is savagely adorable. You know that, right?¡±


    ¡°Now I do,¡± she replied with no small amount of blushing. ¡°Is that ok?¡±


    Sonya knelt to come face to face with Molly on the bedroll and bent in close. ¡°I told you, I like the shy type.¡± She gently grabbed a fistful of Molly¡¯s hair on the back of her head and pulled, forcing the woman to arch her head back. Sonya leaned in with a deep, full kiss and soon introduced her tongue into the passion. They swapped saliva as Molly¡¯s hands slowly rose to cradle her lover¡¯s face with a soft touch. She let loose a tiny moan that escaped into Sonya¡¯s mouth, but then the temptress broke away suddenly, stealing the moment and making Molly hungry for more.


    ¡°You¡¯re such an ass,¡± Molly pouted as she squirmed.


    ¡°You¡¯re just now noticing?¡± Sonya chuckled. ¡°Come on, now. Get comfortable. We need to sleep.¡±


    Molly crawled under the blanket and wiggled into a cozy position, then held up the blanket for Sonya to join her. They snuggled together, Molly buried her face in the chest of her hero as she was tenderly, yet securely, locked in place by Sonya¡¯s greedy arms. They simply held one another for a while, stroking and petting, with soft kisses shared every so often. Molly dug her face in between Sonya¡¯s breasts further than it had already been, nuzzling her warm skin.


    ¡°I love you,¡± Molly breathed quietly, muffled by her depth in Sonya¡¯s chest.


    ¡°Hmm?¡± Sonya questioned, not hearing what had been confessed.


    Molly just shook her head and said nothing. Sonya pieced together Molly¡¯s stifled words but kept to herself. She imagined the silly woman was embarrassed and felt stupid. Molly¡¯s confidence on the porch of Thomas¡¯s house had been a one-time miracle with Sonya and was forever behind her. She didn¡¯t mind though, as she adored Molly this way. Sonya loved feeling in control and craved the role of the provider.


    Smiling, Sonya kissed the head of the woman she cradled and sighed into her red curls. She felt Molly¡¯s hands run along her skin with experienced tenderness, creating sparks of wonder wherever her fingertips trailed. The sensation persisted as Molly continued to caress and mollify her captor. They both soon became drowsy and fell asleep locked in a desperate embrace


    . . .


    Far off in the depths of the woods, Thomas wandered aimlessly. Thoughts spun and buzzed in his skull, affording him no relief or peace. The worst of it was the voice, a maddeningly persuasive drone on his conscience that left him sick and weary with dread. It had been merciless in its ramblings and spoke of ill things, terrible things.


    She knows, the voice hissed, and she thinks you¡¯re crazy.


    ¡°No. She doesn¡¯t think I¡¯m crazy. She¡¯s kind and looks out for me. She¡¯s just worried.¡± Thomas insisted, fingers anxiously rubbing his temples in a circular pattern.


    No, she thinks you¡¯re mad. If she knew just how insane you really are, she¡¯d kill you to protect her stupid precious whore.


    ¡°Molly¡¯s not a stupid whore!¡± Thomas almost yelled it. ¡°She¡¯s sweet. I like her.¡±


    Mmmmm, yes. Sweet indeed. Cut her open and find out just how sweet she really is. I bet she¡¯s delicious.


    ¡°No!¡± Thomas yelled. ¡°What the hell is wrong with me?¡± He rubbed harder, clenching his eyes shut and willing the voice to cease its insidious suggestions.


    Yes! Pry her open and lick the very warmth from her intestines. Oh, how I need it. Give it to me! Tear her apart and nest in her entrails! Do it!


    ¡°I?¡± Thomas questioned. He was so confused and distressed. He had hoped he was just going insane, but the poison in his head had just claimed individuality. Thomas¡¯s heart skipped a beat and he felt cold.


    I am you, and you are me. We, us, whatever you want. It was Thomas¡¯s voice, but low and with a hideous growl.


    ¡°What are you? What¡¯s happening to me?¡± Thomas ignored the voice¡¯s lust for butchery.


    I am agony, misery, voracity, the voice whispered. You made me, now I¡¯m going to make you. Thomas experienced a vile laughter that ricocheted from wall to wall in his room of thoughts, making him lift his hands to his head and grab at his hair. And yes, you are insane. I can feel the sick urges all around me up here. It laughed again and Thomas fell to his knees.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    ¡°Please go away,¡± the man begged, shaking.


    No, no, no. I can¡¯t. If I go away, you go away. Get it?


    ¡°Just stop talking. I can¡¯t take this anymore.¡± He felt like his head would split at any moment.


    Then stop thinking. Thomas could feel it grin.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do that.¡±


    Exactly. You think, I talk. That¡¯s that.


    ¡°So, my thoughts aren¡¯t my own?¡± His voice wavered.


    They are, but I''m here too. It laughed again.


    ¡°How do I stop this? I want this to stop.¡± Thomas pleaded. He wasn¡¯t sure how much of this he could take.


    Kill yourself. Do it, do it, do it, do it, it repeated with increasing malice.


    ¡°Shut up!¡± Thomas screamed. He fell to his side and curled up in a ball, clutching at his head. Tears began to well up in his eyes and he gritted his teeth against the tornado that was a mental downward spiral. He could feel himself losing control.


    Weak, so weak. No wonder Aimee died. So weak.


    ¡°I said shut up!¡± Thomas started thrashing about and screaming at nothing but himself, kicking rocks and fallen leaves that lay around him, creating a patch of molested earth with his flailing. The wounds on his back ripped open in fresh, warm ribbons and bled for the first time in days. His ribs ached and shot spikes of pain into his sides, but he didn¡¯t notice.


    She¡¯s dead, gutted and broken. The thing laughed and licked at Thomas¡¯s mind. They probably raped her. Dead and raped. Stupid girl. Stupid boy.


    Thomas felt defeated. He ceased his wild throes and lay in the dirt, torn and hollow, with the thought of Aimee¡¯s fate cycling through his brain. What if they had done more than just kill her? What if she suffered more than he thought she had? Thomas began to softly weep, slowly rolling around on the ground, his face grating against soil and rocks and twigs as he sobbed.


    ¡°No,¡± he softly moaned. ¡°No, no, no.¡±


    Yes, yes, yes. Think about it. How beautiful. Do you think she screamed for you to save her? I bet she did. She screamed as they ravaged her. You never came. She¡¯s dead now. Dead, dead, dead.


    ¡°You¡¯re twisted, fucked in the head,¡± Thomas accused as he lay prone and weak, no motivation to stand.


    You¡¯re twisted. Another bout of laughter rolled through his head. Get up.


    ¡°Fuck you,¡± Thomas spat.


    I said get up! The voice screeched.


    To Thomas¡¯s surprise, he was up. It had happened so suddenly he almost lost his balance. He steadied himself and looked around, confused.


    ¡°How did you do that?¡± Thomas asked.


    You did that. We, us. It repeated. Walk.


    ¡°Where?¡±


    Back to the others. Go now. We¡¯re hungry.


    ¡°Hungry for what? What do you mean?¡± Thomas couldn¡¯t imagine what the answer would be. To be honest, it scared him. He was still unsure what was happening. The situation was beyond him. He felt as present as someone in a fever dream.


    Suffering. Need it. Crave it. Suffering birthed me, birthed you.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡± He didn¡¯t know much of anything at this point. He was still hoping he¡¯d wake up at some point, only to find this was another nightmare.


    You will. Go. The voice commanded. And, no, this isn¡¯t a nightmare. It laughed again. At least I don¡¯t see it that way. You might. Again, it cackled.


    He didn¡¯t have much choice, so Thomas began walking back to camp. If he didn¡¯t, he was sure he¡¯d find himself back there anyway. The night was a dominating presence that blinded him, but he found he knew where to step. His journey was an easy one with no wrong turns or blunders. It would have amazed him if he weren¡¯t under duress and so, so terrified.


    Almost there. The thing said. How it knew was anyone¡¯s guess. Thomas didn''t even know.


    He saw a faint flicker of fire in the distance amongst the trees. It was low and nearly snuffed, but it was there. As Thomas approached the far edge of the campground, he stopped and hid behind a tree.


    ¡°I¡¯m not hurting anyone.¡± Thomas was planted firm in this and would not move. The last thing he had was his friends.


    The voice laughed. Yes you are. If you don¡¯t, then I will. Come on. Just one, just a taste. Thomas didn¡¯t know thoughts could lick their lips, but this thought did. He caught himself mimicking the gesture and quickly stopped himself. I¡¯ll let you pick, the bitch or the whore. Do it.


    ¡°No,¡± Thomas said defiantly. ¡°We aren¡¯t hurting anyone.¡± He looked around the corner of the tree at the sleeping forms of Sonya and Molly wrapped in their warm bedroll.


    Look at them. So cozy, so warm, so in love. Wouldn¡¯t it be tasty if they felt what you felt? Constant misery, agony. You¡¯re depressed, you¡¯re lonely, you¡¯re in pain. It laughed again, a low gravely sound that tore at his minds ear. They laugh at you. Your Aimee is dead, and they have each other. They¡¯re happy they¡¯re not you. They love it.


    ¡°You¡¯re wrong,¡± Thomas whispered. ¡°They don¡¯t think that. I¡¯m their friend.¡±


    Stupid boy. Stupid, stupid. Cut the red-haired whore open from neck to navel as Sonya screams. You want it. You love the thought of it. Admit it.


    ¡°I said shut up,¡± Thomas growled quietly through clenched teeth as he struck the side of his head with a fist. ¡°Shut the fuck up.¡± As he spoke, though, his hand dropped to the hilt of the knife strapped to his belt. His fingers played across its wood surface, found a brass rivet, and circled its cold metal thoughtfully.


    It would be so easy. Thomas was struck with a new fear. The voice was right, but it had been his own. Not the low, repulsive thing occupying his mind, but his.


    The imagery that flashed across Thomas¡¯s mind was revolting, but somehow satiating. Thoughts of tearing, gnashing, and wolfing down Molly¡¯s warm organs as she somehow still lived and screamed for Sonya, begged for her help and cried wailing sobs into the night. It made the man wince and fight back with what scraps of mental fortitude he had left. Yet, the thought of giving in felt so¡­good. He fell to his knees and covered his mouth, holding back the urge to vomit as he grinned. Thomas was hungry. His stomach gurgled and squelched, and he found he was drooling. He wiped his mouth with a sleeve and stood up, doing his best to kill this disturbing appetite, but it lingered, knocking with gentle but definite raps at his mind¡¯s back door.


    ¡°Why are you making me think these things?¡± Thomas asked. ¡°I don¡¯t want any of this,¡± he claimed, once again grabbing hold of who he was, who he¡¯d always been.


    Oh, but you do. We do. If there¡¯s something I want, it¡¯s you who wants it. Stop lying to yourself.


    ¡°Why would I want this?¡± Thomas asked in a frantic whisper. He had long gotten over the fact he was talking to himself. It seemed too natural by now; however insane it might be.


    You know why. You¡¯re angry at them for being happy. Every time they touch, every time they hold each other, you want to lash out. You hate it. Thomas could feel that grin again, many sharp teeth on display. He didn¡¯t know it was in fact his own lips curling, his own teeth baring. Look at your hand, it¡¯s shaking. You need a release. Just a little. Go on. No one will miss them.


    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­miss them.¡± Thomas¡¯s heart sank when he paused mid-sentence. He would, wouldn¡¯t he? His breathing became rapid, and his heart kicked so hard he could feel his chest heave with each thump. The pulse the muscle created made his eyes throb with every beat, and his body shuddered each time blood was violently shot through his veins. All the while, a wide grin loomed silently in the back of his head, letting Thomas have this moment, this realization.


    You want this. Again, it was not the voice of the monster.


    The broken man focused on only his losses; the things that had been torn from him. He couldn¡¯t help it. The evil thing snaking around his thoughts had been leeching these feelings into him. Against his tempered morality, Thomas needed to feel alive again, needed a rush. This horror crafted of hunger and trauma claimed to know how. Even though he hated all of this, would regret anything done in the name of this nameless swirling hate in his head, he was done. He was too weak of mind to fight its will.


    He began to tip his mental scale in favor of the beast, and the pressure baring down on him lifted and something new poured in. The feeling swam through his body and stimulated every nerve like a drug. Thomas¡¯s eyes almost rolled back in his head from the sudden rush of empowerment and wonder. He felt clear, but also numb.


    Thomas carefully drew his old hunting knife with eager, sweaty fingers from its scabbard, the edge slid along worn leather, not making a sound. He stepped out from behind the tree and, letting the thing occupying his mind take the reins, and it helped him in avoiding any steps which would alert to his presence. One footfall after another, each one was whisper quiet and fell upon no branch nor crackling leaf. His passage was ghostly, swift and terrifying.


    They laugh at me, he said to himself.  They laugh and hate me. He didn¡¯t deny it anymore. Somehow, he was sure this was true. Maybe he wanted it all to be true.


    When he approached the glow of the fire, he stopped and stared. A lump formed in his throat and a fresh dose of adrenaline coursed through him to bring a tingle to each appendage. From just over the folds of the blanket the two women slept under, Thomas saw a pair of hazel eyes wide open and staring right at him. They shone with such awareness and pierced him like an arrow, freezing him where he stood. A hand moved under the covers slowly, and he knew Sonya had just drawn her blade.


    See! She knows! The hiss echoed through him and filled him with more unwanted doubt. The old Thomas struggled to reach the surface of the deep, black water he had been cast into. He clawed with desperate, greedy hands for air, and it must have shown on his face. The war of the insane and the sensible waged complete hell on his understanding of all things.


    The false image of Sonya and Molly laughing at all his misfortune flashed across his mind. The fact it was a thought forced upon him became less apparent the more he visualized it. The poison had seeped in deep and was beginning to turn this peaceful man into something that went against his beliefs. All he felt was anger, all he wanted was them to see his pain, all he wanted was for them to feel his suffering. The grip on his knife tightened and his knuckles grew pale with the resolve. He felt his past self being dragged back down to cold, black depths once more.


    When he took his next step, Sonya flung open the folds of the blanket and stood up, a long dagger of deadly and agile efficiency expertly held in one hand. Her eyes had no sense of welcome in them. She looked upon him as she would any other threat. Thomas took another step forward, and Sonya bent into a ready position, raising the blade she carried, and orange firelight glittered off its surface. Thomas brought his knife to bare as well, ready and willing.


    ¡°What are you doing, Thomas?¡± The question sounded genuine, casual, as if she cared for his sanity, but her face told a different story. She had been prepared for this.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Thomas began. Molly stirred under the blankets and his eyes shot to her, his wide orbs eating her up. They exuded pure hunger and he couldn¡¯t help but love the feeling he got when thinking of ways to make her scream. Deep down, he hated all this, didn¡¯t want any of it, but something more powerful was creating order in his mind where there was none. Its influence was intoxicating, and he had already surrendered himself.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at her. You look at me.¡± Sonya¡¯s voice had adopted a commanding tone while remaining low and quiet, and Thomas¡¯s eyes darted back to her. ¡°Can I convince you to put the knife down?¡±


    A single tear sprung from one of the man¡¯s eyes and crept down his dirty cheek. He slowly and almost regretfully shook his head. ¡°No, I¡¯m sorry.¡± He truly was.


    Thomas merely blinked, and Sonya was already a breath away from him, her length of blade a flash of steel that seemed to cut the very air. His muscles reacted on their own, in a way he would have previously thought inhuman, and he jerked his head back. The tip of the incoming blade passed just shy of his nose, the tiny hairs on his skin feeling its passage. Before he could think, his blade arced up with blinding speed and cut a beautiful strip of crimson into the flesh of Sonya¡¯s stomach. She gasped and rolled back, tumbling in the dirt to put distance between them. The sight of the red, dripping streak was enough to send waves of pleasure through Thomas¡¯s whole body. His knees grew weak, and his breath ran short.


    ¡°What the fuck is wrong with you?¡± Sonya yelled; hand pressed to her bleeding gut.


    She strikes first! See it? She wants you dead! The claims filled him and only encouraged his newfound lust.


    The bedroll stirred again, and the sleeping woman in its folds sat up groggily. Molly lifted her balled hands to her face and rubbed, chasing the sleep from her tired eyes and yawning. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± She asked as she blinked and took stock of the scene before her. With Sonya¡¯s back to her, she didn¡¯t see the blood. ¡°Why are you two up so late? Shouldn¡¯t we be resting for tomorr¡­¡± Then she saw the knife in Thomas¡¯s hand, the slick blood wetting its edge and inviting the occasional drop to fall from its tip. She turned to Sonya, saw her grabbing at her stomach, and her eyes grew wide.


    ¡°Stay back, Molly.¡± Sonya held up a warding hand.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± She asked with worry rising to dominate her tone. She looked back and forth between the two, hands clutching at the blanket.


    Sonya kept her eyes locked on Thomas, her will bent on reacting to any movement he might make. ¡°Molly, I want you to get up slowly and walk away. I¡¯ll come find you.¡±


    ¡°No. I don¡¯t want to leave. What¡¯s happening? Come on you two, calm down.¡± Her voice shook and she sniffled. ¡°This isn¡¯t funny.¡± So much was being thrown at her in such a short time. It was all so overwhelming.


    ¡°Go!¡± Sonya yelled.


    Molly flinched and began to stand, shaking all over. ¡°But¡­¡±


    Thomas¡¯s arm flicked out with lightning speed. The knife left his hand and sailed through the air. Everything seemed to slow. The thrown blade careened through the still night, catching and tossing the glow from the fire into unbelieving eyes. Sonya put every muscle in her body to work, pushing them to their limits. She turned and leapt, her own blade coming up in a wide sweep. The edge of her steel contacted the handle of Thomas¡¯s knife, sending it off course. It spun end over end above Molly¡¯s shoulder and sunk into the trunk of a tree just behind her.


    Sonya hit the ground hard on her side. She screamed and gasped for air as the cracking of a rib sounded through the silence. She rolled over onto her back, wincing at the pain exploding through her chest. In an instant, Molly was by her side, gingerly holding her face and pressing the blonde¡¯s forehead to her own.


    ¡°Are you ok?¡± She cried.


    Sonya lifted her hand up and brushed the woman¡¯s cheek with the backs of her fingers lovingly. ¡°As long as you are.¡±


    Thomas was sickened by the sight. His hands spasmodically twitched into curled claws at his sides, and he started toward the pair, a snarl on his face.


    Easy. Strangle them. Choke the life from them.


    When Thomas was within a few feet of them, Sonya pushed Molly away and lunged from her downed position. She lashed out with her blade and cut deep into the man¡¯s leg. Thomas screamed, pawed at his fresh wound, and crumpled to the ground, his muscle under the gaping slash failing him. Before he could focus, Sonya was on him, sitting on his chest with a hand to his throat locked in a death grip. Thomas choked and struggled for air, digging at the hold on him with frantic, tearing claws, but Sonya would not give.


    She raised a fist high into the air and brought it down hard with monstrous force. Her knuckles dug deep into Thomas¡¯s face, undoing any healing his nose had tried to do. His vision filled with spots and his world spun as dark red fluids gushed from his nostrils. He had no time to think before the woman¡¯s rage plowed into his face again. The fist came away wet and bloody, but again she hammered with all her might. Each blow elicited a harsh shout from the infuriated Sonya as she continued to coat the dirt around Thomas¡¯s head with the gore that each strike coaxed from his increasingly disfigured visage.


    After what seemed like an eternity, the rain of fury ceased along with any movement from the crippled form lying soaked and ragged on the cold ground. Thomas¡¯s head swam in a thick, cotton fog before slipping away into blackness. The only sounds to be heard were the crackling fire, Sonya¡¯s exhausted panting, and Molly¡¯s sobs as she was tenderly cradled in a pair of blood-splattered arms.