Dark Warrior (2 page)

A
fter what seemed like an eternity moving through unlit, dank corridors, a risky flight up a stone staircase, and a chilling journey through a secret, narrow passageway, they finally made their escape. The dark night greeted the couple as they left Decimus's stronghold. Mary breathed deeply of the fresh air in an attempt to rid her nostrils of the dungeon's stench, then lowered her head near to the stranger's chest as they entered the woods to keep her face from being hit by leaves and tree branches.

With darkness as their ally, they fled in silence, his footfalls barely detectable. He was a shadow among shadows blending with his surroundings. She wondered over their destination. Though her rescuer's familiar words should have reassured her, she remained concerned for her safety.

She grew tired, her battered body not having time to fully recover. Her eyes began to drift closed, she forced them open. She had to remain alert and prepared to walk no matter how painful her legs.

“Sleep.”

His harsh whisper sent a shiver through her, causing him to hug her tightly. Could she expect to be carried much farther?—she was not a small woman, gentle in curves with fullness to her breasts and hips. And she was more than capable of taking care of herself.

“Sleep. We have a distance to travel and you need rest.”

His words were a faint rumble in his throat, but she clearly heard them. They blended with the steady rhythm of his heart, which had not faltered or sped up in fear. He was confident and comfortable in his task as though assured of success.

She thought to tell him to put her down so that she could walk on her own, but that would not be a wise decision. She needed to rest and grow strong so that, when the time came, she could keep pace with this shrouded stranger.

She did not recall her eyes closing. His whispers woke her and she saw that dawn had peaked on the horizon. They had come upon a dilapidated building long abandoned by people and animals but embraced by the woods surrounding it. Vines and brush had claimed the sorry structure, closing it off from the world as if in protection.

He bowed his head to clear the doorway and his warm breath fanned her face. She detected a hint of a familiar scent. What was it? Her weary mind needed rest; perhaps then she would be able to distinguish the scent.

“Can you stand for a moment?”

She nodded, wanting to test her aching legs.

He lowered her feet to the ground and tenderly braced her against the wall. “Give me a moment and I will have a pallet for you to rest upon.”

She wanted to tell him that this was not necessary, the hard earth floor would serve her well enough, but her painful throat would not allow her to speak. She reached out, her hand grabbing his arm as he turned away.

He turned back, her hand dropped. She almost cringed but stopped herself. His dark garb was ominous, not an ounce of flesh showed and she wondered what he was hiding.

“Your injured throat needs healing, you should not speak. I will have you to safety shortly and when you heal, we can talk.”

He walked away, gathering dried brush that lay scattered over the floor and piling it in a shadowed, secluded corner. He then left the structure.

A quick glance confirmed her suspicion that this place was no cottage; it lacked a fireplace for warmth, which meant it was a storage shed at one time. She wished to explore the small space if only to see if she was strong enough to walk, but her instincts warned her against it.

He returned with an armful of fresh brush and laid it on top of the dry brush. He then walked over and reached out to lift her in his arms.

She held her hand up and shook her head, instead placing her hand on his arm for support to let him know she wished to walk with his assistance.

He obliged her, though after taking two steps he slipped his arm around her waist for further support.

He lowered her gently, then joined her on the pallet and slowly moved closer.

She tensed.

“We will need each other's warmth for the night will grow more chilled.”

He was right. Her meager tunic and shift were not sufficient garments against the cool spring air. She shifted her body nearer so that their sides would touch. That was all she could bring herself to do, for lying more intimately with a stranger would not be appropriate.

She was curious about this shadow of a man she was about to sleep with, and she gently tapped his arm. He turned his head.

She stared at the black void and realized that his face shroud was of different material than his robe and made visibility possible for him, though she could only make out a faint outline of a face, nothing more.

She patted her chest, then turned her hand over and with her finger slowly wrote the letters of her name on her palm.

“Aye,” he said. “I know your name is Mary.”

She was elated by the fact that he could read, at least then she could communicate while her throat healed. She tapped his arm with her finger.

He understood her question. “My name is unimportant.”

She shook her head and patted her chest to make him understand that his name was important to her. A name gave someone an identity and she needed him to have an identity.

He seemed to understand and paused as if in search of a name. “Michael, call me Michael.”

She nodded and once again wrote on her palm—
Magnus.
She then pointed at him and back at her palm.

“You wish to know how Magnus and I know each other?”

She nodded eagerly. She had to be certain Magnus had sent him.

“Our paths have crossed on occasion and we have become friends.”

She continued to stare, waiting to hear more.

“Do not look for answers I cannot give you. It is safer for you to remain ignorant of me. Know that Magnus sent me to see you to safety and that is what I will do.”

She shook her head to let him know his answer would not do. She wanted something more to prove Magnus had sent him.

“I spoke the words Magnus told me to speak to you so that you would know he sent me. Trust that it is so and know that he would have come himself if his bride-to-be Reena was not in danger.”

Excitement and worry gripped her all at once. She was happy that Magnus would marry but was concerned for his future wife. She squeezed Michael's arm wanting so badly to ask him dozens of questions.

“I understand your concern. Reena, though pint-sized, is courageous; Magnus will allow no harm to befall her.”

Suddenly a hard shiver racked her body. He moved closer and draped his arm over her. She did not tense this time; his warmth was much too welcome and warded off the intense chill.

“I can give you but one day to rest, no more. Decimus searches for all escaped prisoners with a vengeance. He puts the fear of God in his men so that they will obey him without question, which means he will order them to find you no matter how long it takes. I must get you to a temporary place of safety as quickly as possible.”

She shivered with the reminder of Decimus's relentless thirst for revenge. Stories abounded of his cruelty, some so absurd that Mary could think them nothing more than tall tales. She would, however, only need to see a vision of her parents' horrible fate to know that Decimus was capable of the unspeakable.

Would there ever be a place of safety for her? She had been lulled into a false sense of security in the last couple of years. She had thought herself safe from the evil that hunted her, and she had begun to think of life without fear of capture. She had wrongly assumed Decimus searched for her no more, or perhaps she had hoped that he had lost interest in her. She had been barely eleven when her parents died. What harm could she have done him? Or had her escape been a wound to his reputation that had festered and putrefied with the years?

She fell into a troubled slumber, Michael's protective presence a haven from her fears.

Daylight was fading when she woke to find herself alone. She grew anxious over Michael's absence, then realized how foolish her thought. He would not abandon her; he had entered into an agreement with Magnus to see to her safety. She could rely on him at least for now. Eventually she would have only herself to rely on and she would survive. She could not allow Decimus victory over her, not after all this time and all the heartache he had caused her.

She noticed an old bucket near the pallet that had not been there the night before.

Fresh water.

She scooped up the cool liquid and drank. The chilled water eased the pain in her throat and she sighed with relief. She thought to wash her face, she must certainly look frightful, but if this was their only drinking water she did not wish to waste it. Her face would just have to remain dirty.

“Drink your fill.”

She jumped, startled by Michael's voice, not having heard him enter.

She nodded her thanks and again took a handful to quench her seemingly relentless thirst. Perhaps it was the awareness that it might be some time before water would again be available.

Michael sat beside her and unfolded a part of his robe that he had bunched together and used like a sack. Berries and edible roots spilled out.

She smiled and patted her stomach.

“I thought you might be hungry.”

Mary nodded and reached for some berries.

“I cannot chance a fire or we would have feasted on meat.”

She scooped up a fat root and grinned wide.
This meal is fine.
She detected a laugh but was not certain of it. She thought under all that darkness must lie a
hint
of light.

She pointed to the food and then to him.

“I must confess I ate while I gathered.”

She finished the root and all of the berries, sighed her contentment.

“Your throat,” he said, raising his gloved hand slowly, careful not to frighten her. “Does it continue to pain you?” He gently stroked the bruised area with a lone finger.

She sat very still, hiding her fear of his faint touch, but her startled, wide eyes alerted him to her discomfort.

His removed his hand slowly; they sat quietly for several minutes until he ended the awkward silence.

“We will leave tomorrow night.”

She nodded.

“You should rest. We have much land to cover.”

She wished to know their destination. She pointed to him then herself, then walked her fingers across her palm and shrugged.

“Northwest, to a small village where I have friends who will shelter us,” he answered.

Another matter that needed attention was a quick walk in the woods. She would prefer to go alone but with night having fallen, no voice to cry out for help, and unreliable legs, she knew his company was necessary.

She pointed to the door and once again she walked her fingers across her palm and pointed to herself.

He understood and helped her to stand. “Your legs will hold you?”

She shrugged and nodded simultaneously, indicating she was uncertain but without choice.

They walked a short distance into the dense woods, his firm arm around her waist. He released her gently and made certain she remained steady on her feet before bending down to snatch something off the ground. He handed her two stones.

“I will leave you to your privacy and be only a short distance away. If you should need me, throw the one stone and I will come to you. When you are finished toss one stone then the other and I will come to you.”

She acknowledged with a nod then saw to her needs. Her legs pained under her full weight. When she finished she did as he had said, she tossed the first stone then the second. He appeared before her like a phantom materializing out of the night, giving her a start.

His arm quickly circled her waist. “I startled you; I am sorry.”

She shook her head and, with hand motions she hoped made sense, attempted to let him know that in time she would adjust to his strange manner.

He spoke as they walked. “You will grow accustomed to me.”

She nodded vigorously, pleased he understood.

“I think it wise if you carry a few stones with you. They may prove helpful if we are ever separated and you need me.”

Need him.

She did not want to need him. Need brought dependency and possible harm to the person she needed. The couple who had taken her in, and cared for her like their only child, would have been in jeopardy had she not taken flight as soon as she had discovered that men who hunted her were nearby. She could not cause another harm; it was a belief she had been taught and one she intended to live by.

She took a few steps and stopped abruptly in front of the doorway. Mary stuck her chin up and, with rapid hand motions, did her best to convey her confidence in taking care of herself.

He stepped closer, until their bodies almost touched. “You may think you are capable of seeing to your own safety, but you are wrong if you think you can defend yourself against Decimus. That is what I am here to do, keep you safe from him, and I will do that. No matter what it takes, I will keep you safe.”

His forceful words impressed her. She realized then why Magnus had chosen him for the task. He had no intentions of failing. He would see to her safety even if it meant his life. And she wondered if perhaps he hated Decimus as much as she did.

“We both need rest for our journey.” He took hold of her arm and guided her gently into the shed, walked her to the pallet. “Sleep.”

She lay on her back. The aches and pains tormented her and the cool night air had begun to creep under her meager garments, sending a chill through her. Would he join her again tonight and keep her warm? She hoped he would; she was cold and needed his warmth. Though he was a stranger, he had proven that he knew Magnus and would protect her.

Soon he lowered himself down beside her. “Cold?”

She nodded, eager for the warmth of his body.

He moved up against her, his arm wrapping around her. He draped his robe over her legs and she shifted closer to him.