Rising Ch. 09

Before he could lunge for her, a thick, wide blade suddenly exploded out of his chest cavity, protruding almost a foot from his chest wall. Blood splashed onto the stable ground.

Ahma felt a touch of alarm, but mostly relief. She sagged backward, her hand suddenly trembling around the dagger clutched in her fist.

Methaniel pulled his broadsword free as he gathered the body up in one arm. He glanced out onto the streets, feeling suddenly thankful that they were in a more-less quiet area of town. He threw the body into the alley across the road then ran back to the stables.

“Don’t mention this,” he instructed her as he wiped the blade of his sword clean and re-sheathed it.

Lanion was neighing and snorting in his pen, tossing his mane violently in agitation. His flanks rippled; he was barely containing the urge to kick his way out of the pen.

“It’s okay, calm,” Methaniel said as he reached a hand out to Lanion’s muzzle. He pat him several times. The horse snorted indignantly, but his temper began to cool.

“We’ll be back soon, my friend. Calm yourself,” Methaniel instructed, then turned and put a hand on Ahma’s shoulder, gently steering her away from the stables.

“Act casual. Nothing is wrong,” Methaniel murmured to her softly.

“Master…that man…how are we going to explain?”

“We won’t,” Methaniel replied. “No one in this city will care. He’s a mercenary…they’re not particularly well liked here. No one is. As long as we don’t state responsibility, then no one will look twice at us. In a city like this a death goes unnoticed.”

“He’s dead,” Ahma said in a shaking voice.

“I know. But it would have been him or you. I chose him.”

“He was searching for me,” Ahma murmured. “There’s wanted posters up, he said. They’re looking for a Wingling woman with the house mark.”

Methaniel nodded grimly and walked them through the inn and into their room, passing through so quickly Ahma barely got a look at their surroundings.

“I’m so sorry,” Methaniel said as soon as he shut the door behind him. Ahma sat down on the bed, shaking now. “I should never have left you alone.”

Ahma shook her head numbly. It was wrong. Everything was wrong. Soon he was going to leave her in this horrible, ugly place, and she’d be alone, without him, and now she was hunted on top of it.

Methaniel paced the room for several moments, cursing under his breath. Their room was like any other in an inn, semi-spacious and mostly empty, with a large bed and a bedside table with candles stacked on top. A chest sat at the foot of the bed and a screen ran across one of the room’s corners to provide privacy for changing. A small brick hearth sat along the far wall.

Ahma hardly noticed any of this; her heart was too heavy. She felt as if she would burst into tears any moment. Their parting weighed heavily on her and now she feared for his life. She’d not been afraid for a long time, not really; after all, the Master was with her, and she knew he would protect her. But what about in a few days, when he would surely leave Fernum, and her, behind?

The Master suddenly stopped his pacing and knelt down in front of her. He took her shaking hands in his and softly squeezed them.

“I will never leave you like that again, Ahma. I promise you this.”

“You’ll have to soon,” she said, blinking away tears. “You must continue. You have to find who did those horrible things. You’ll leave me behind.”

“No,” Methaniel said firmly, “I won’t.”

Ahma’s head jerked up to his face. She was sure her ears had deceived her.

“What?” she breathed.

“I won’t leave you alone ever again,” he repeated. “I can’t. You are hunted, and you are in very grave danger. I felt that this was true for some time…but I always hoped I could find you someplace safe to live. Now I think otherwise. I don’t know when that will happen, but it won’t be now. You won’t be safe alone anymore.

“I know I’m going into violence,” he continued, “It’s almost assured. But I would rather you be with me, where I know I can keep you safe, and I can teach you how to keep yourself safe.”

His rough fingertips caressed her small hands with infinite gentleness. “Ahma, unless you ever decide you do not will it…I will never leave or abandon you. I will always protect and guard you against harm and danger. I swear this to you.”

Ahma nodded, unable to process this. She sat on the side of the bed as Methaniel released her hands and settled the room. He put their cloaks away and started a small fire in the hearth. He came and knelt beside her. “I’m going out for a moment, Ahma…I don’t want to, but I have to.”

She looked up at him in panic, but he patted her shoulder and handed her the short sword he’d bought her. “The door locks. I’m going to take the key. Don’t allow anyone to enter, not even a maid. If anyone tries to force their way in, attack them, make them leave, whatever you have to do. If there’s more than one person, slip out the window. Fly out to the thicket of woods out the north gate we saw this afternoon. I’ll find you there.”

“Where are you going?” Ahma asked softly.

“We need supplies. And I have to check some things. Listen, Ahma, I will be quick, but until we find a way to better keep suspicion from you, you should stay hidden in here.” He squeezed her shoulder gently and looked into her eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

She nodded to his words, but she felt disconnected and completely removed from herself as she bid him farewell, promised to arrange their things further, and locked the door behind him.

Taking a few moments to put their garments and supplies away, she folded their clothes into neat stacks and piled them in the chest by the bed. A small cot sat by the door on the other side of the cot, by the door, and a single blanket folded on top of it.

It occurred to Ahma then that there were two ‘beds’. The cot was hers. She had to remind herself, suddenly, that she was a servant. She was a servant. Her mind had wandered too far these last several days to think otherwise.

She sat on the floor by the fireplace, feeling a wild mix of emotions. He had sworn to never leave her, just moments ago. That promise lifted her heart and made it beat faster with joy. She would never be without him. Yet her joy was tempered with fear from what she had seen of Fernum and the attack she’d been subjected to. She was hunted. How could she ever feel safe again?

Sorrow filled her, too. She would be with him, but only ever as a servant. He would be near her tonight, but she would sleep by herself. The days of closeness and intimacy were over, it seemed.

Her mind flicked to the thought of the slaves wearing chains, and she shuddered. He didn’t plan on putting her in shackles, did he? Of course not…even if they were to be only servant and Master, she knew he wasn’t so cruel as to do such a thing.

But the damage was done. She’d somehow harbored thoughts that, in some way, somehow, they would be together. Though she told herself several times that she never thought it would really come to anything, she knew she was lying to herself.

With all the strees of the day, the horrors she’d seen, and her tired, clattered state of mind, Ahma burst into tears.

***

When Methaniel returned he found the Wingling girl huddled by the fireplace, crying softly. He tossed the goods he’d bought onto the bed and quickly locked the door. He sat down beside her, gathering her into his arms. He held her close and warm as she cried into his broad chest. His heart ached for her. No doubt all the trauma and horrible events of the last two months, compounded by the attack earlier that evening, had finally been too much for her. He smoothed her hair, caressing it, once again enjoying the wonderful feel of it even through his sympathy and worry for her. He continued to hold her close as she hiccupped and sobbed softly till her tears slowed and began to dry on her face.

“Ahma?” he asked tentatively.

Ahma scooted closer to him, until he pulled her into his lap. She wiped her face with her hands, sending tear stains all about. Softly she said, “I’m sorry, Master.”

“It’s all right, Ahma. Did something happen while I was gone?”

She shook her head slightly, her eyes still staring downward. “No, Master. I arranged our things and cleaned things up, then sat for a while.”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” Methaniel said gently. “I bought some bread and cheese, and a few fruits so we can eat in our room tonight. I thought staying inside would do us both some good. I’m ready to slay half the city after seeing how they’re treating…treating the slaves.”

“I know,” she sighed. “Even the children are treated horribly. I don’t understand how people can do that…how they can hurt a child.”

Methaniel remembered the young ones, ten of them in chains, forced to drag a cart loaded with goods. Another man sold a girl, no older than twelve, to a brutish man for three hours. When the girl cried in fear and tried to cling to her master, the man beat her to the ground.

Master Methaniel rubbed her hair, feeling its texture, better than the softest linens. “Maybe some people just don’t have hearts. Or souls. Would that I had the power to change these things.”

She shuttered and pressed her face to his chest. “Would…you really have left me here?”

“No,” Methaniel shook his head. “I began to have doubts in Sefar. After what I saw today, I realized there wouldn’t be a safe place in this town for you. And now I believe I will only ever know you are safe if you are with me.”

She smiled softly. A strange, content happiness filled her, chasing away all the negativity she’d been dwelling on. Just being in his arms broke through her despair. She knew he would protect her. She knew he wouldn’t leave her. And she somehow knew, by his closeness, by the way he held her and caressed her hair, that she was not to be a simple servant.

What part of his life would she play? She was his servant, certainly…she still took pride in serving him and caring for him, and tending to his needs. But she was also, if nothing else, a friend, she felt. Beyond that…?

She turned her gaze up to his face. A small, serene smile touched her lips as she took in the sight of him. Her eyes sparkled in the light from the fire, shimmering off the tiny droplets of water in her lashes.

Then, before she could stop herself, she leaned up and gave Methaniel a soft, small kiss. It was simple, gentle. He barely had time to tell how her lips felt through his surprise before she pulled away and reburied her head into his broad chest.

“Thank you, Master Merie.”

He rubbed the back of her head, still surprised. “You’re welcome, Ahma. Are you ready to eat?”

“Yes, I am,” she agreed.

Methaniel brought the satchel of food to where they sat by the fire. He handed Ahma a waterskin and a piece of green fruit. She took a drink. By now her eyes had mostly dried, but tear stains glinted on her face in the yellow light. Somehow, they made her all the more lovely.

As he took a bite of some cheese, she suddenly asked, “What else did you get?”

He chuckled softly. “I almost forgot.”

He opened the bag on the bed and pulled out a small pair of gloves. He handed them to her.

They were a pale green color, slender and smooth, with small, triangular flaps at the cuffs to cover her wrist. As she felt them, she realized they were some kind of soft, supple leather. They were the nicest gloves she’d ever seen.

Her eyes widened and she looked up at him in surprise. “You…got these for me?”

“We have to cover your marking,” he answered, then winked softly. “Besides, I told inn keeper you were from a wealthy Wingling family, so you should look the part at least a bit.”

Ahma blinked for a moment, then burst into a fit of laughter. “That cot!” she giggled. “It’s for you!”

Methaniel broke into a grin. “I suppose it is, if you plan on banishing me to it.”

“Oh, Master, I could never do that. I’ll sleep there so you can have the nice bed.”

He took one look at the cot, then shook his head. “Absolutely not. The cot by the door is for the bodyguard, to prevent attackers from entering.”

“I understand, Master Merie, but you still get the nice bed,” she insisted.

He smiled at her. “Why are we discussing this? We’ll just keep each other warm as usual. Simple as that.”

She smiled shyly back at him. “All right. Thank you, Master Merie. I’m very lucky. You have been so kind to me…”

“You are more than deserving of such kindness,” he replied as he stripped off his shirt and climbed into the bed. Ahma blushed softly, lowering her eyes so that she would not stare at his muscled form as she knew she wanted to. He had not before slept in such a way, as it was usually too cold, but now with the fire crackling and warming the room, and the many blankets upon the bed, she supposed it was warm enough for him to sleep however he was comfortable. It was going to be…difficult to sleep, perhaps. She grabbed her nightgown and stepped behind the screen in the corner to change. She emerged looking beautiful and alluring even in the simple, modest gown. She snuggled into him as he held an arm out to her. She was no longer hesitating or anxious about the implications of such closeness. Now she simply enjoyed his warmth.

Though both of them felt there was more to say, they faded off into a comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s pleasant company.

Methaniel gazed down at the Wingling girl pressed to his chest. She breathed smoothly, evenly, falling into a peaceful sleep in his powerful arms. The Nobleman idly reached down to brush a strand of hair from her face. He felt her smooth body pressing to his, her supple curves against him, her generous bosom, just how large and plentiful he could only guess, lightly crushed against his side. He shivered at the thought of it. Images and fantasies played through his mind, the feel of her enormous breasts, a feature he admittedly sought in a woman, her sensual curves and smooth flesh. He wondered if the skin was as pale and creamy all over her body as it was on her face and arms. He shivered slightly and tightened his arms about her as she stirred gently. She smiled in her sleep and nuzzled closer into him.

His mind thought of all the pleasures her flesh must surely offer, the delights of her slender form and bountiful curves…he sighed softly and shut his eyes, trying to force his mind elsewhere. His muscles bunched against silken skin and she pressed her body closer still. She seemed almost too good to be true. Doubtless she had a glorious body, one out of a dream, sensual and highly erotic, though she remained innocent and angelic in her actions. Her flawless face, her neat upturned nose, her huge, innocent, shining brown eyes, her delicate cheeks and rounded face, her full soft pursed lips… all harmoniously blended to create a perfect work of timeless art.

He leaned back, settling into the bed more fully, his mind drifting as he slowly slipped into sleep. Her body was certainly enticing, but her gentle and kind soul her sharp and intelligent mind all made her the more alluring. Her personality was unique and her spirit was high, her heart gentle and compassionate. Those set her far apart from other women he had encountered, and were perhaps the most prominent things that attracted him to the girl.

The Nobleman dozed, falling into pleasant, intense dreams of just what wonders the Wingling woman might have to offer.

***

In the morning, after a brief breakfast Methaniel gathered himself and headed out into the city.

“I won’t be long,” he assured Ahma. “I need to gather some information. Perhaps I can find what has been going on in Durinum and just how hard they are trying to find us. You can walk around the inn if you’d like, you’re registered as a minor noble so you shouldn’t have any problems. If something happens, do as we planned last night. Wear your gloves and keep your weapons on your body.

“Just be careful,” he said at last, realizing he was babbling. “If you need some fresh air, I’m sure Lanion would enjoy your company. He’s taken quite a liking to you. He’s more tolerant of you than me these days.”

Methaniel chuckled and reached down to squeeze her shoulder softly and took her hand into his other one. “I won’t be long, I swear to you. I don’t want to leave at all, but where I will search for information will be… unpleasant.”

Ahma nodded slowly, understanding and grateful despite her nervousness. “Please hurry back to me, Master Merie. This place scares me,” she whispered softly.

Methaniel bent down, and lightly kissed her forehead, murmuring soft comforts before quickly stepping out of the room, eager to finish his business and get back before the Wingling girl should worry too much.

***

“Hurry up,” Methaniel barked.

The shady, sallow skinned man glared darkly at him but remained silent as he slinked into the run down shack of a building. Methaniel knew he would return, hopefully with some useful information.

He’d been directed to this dark corner of the city after asking around in the local pubs and watering holes. People tentatively pointed his way here. While these folk were hardly trustworthy, he was fairly sure he had intimidated the doorman enough to convince him of the stupidity of trying to pull something. Besides, the promise of the funds he provided should be enough to get him ‘quality’ information.

His mind began wandering again. It settled on the all-too brief feel of soft, silken, plump lips pressed lightly to his cheek. He had been surprised, but far from displeased, by Ahma’s kiss. On the contrary, for the brief contact with Ahma’s pink lips served to make him wonder what other pleasures they could bring…

The Nobleman mentally kicked himself. But he couldn’t seem to help it; the girl plagued his thoughts endlessly of late, and he seemed more and more to wonder what possibilities could be had with one was gloriously different and exotic as she. Though he was fairly certain of the innocence of her kiss, he had begun to wonder…

He snapped back to reality again as the shack door opened. The Nobleman dropped a few coins into the outstretched hand. The ruffian inside narrowed his eyes.

“The rest when I get the information I seek,” Methaniel stipulated firmly. The man spat at his feet, but his tongue suddenly became loose as Methaniel’s hand came down to grip the hilt of his sword.

“Carimshaw, to the south and three miles east o’ the road. Information’s better there. We don’t know nothin’ bout no Durinum nobles. That’s all I got.”

Methaniel cursed softly as the door slammed in his face. He shook his head, scowling away his anger. At least he had a lead,somelead, however minor it was. He turned on his heals and headed back for the inn.

***

Ahma headed straight for the stables the moment Methaniel left; he’d been right, shedidneed a breath of fresh air. She wore the hideous brown dress, though it stood at odds with the fine gloves she wore. Then again, she was also wearing a cloak too large for her that sat awkwardly on her wings, and a short sword strapped to her hip. She probably looked rather…eclectic. She probably fit the impression of a crazy Wingling Noble quite well. Her dagger was once again strapped to her thigh, hidden away in the folds of her skirts.

At the stable the stable hand, one different from yesterday, greeted her and showed her to Lanion, but otherwise took little notice of her. There didn’t seem to be any concern for the blood stain sparsely covered over with straw in the middle of the stable grounds. Then again, now that she looked, Ahma noticed several stains of a suspiciously similar nature.

Lanion stood in his small pen, furiously chewing on the fence railing. Apparently he thought this a clever way to revenge himself upon the stable in general. Ahma slipped between the fence rails. Normally she wouldn’t have fit because of her wings, but Lanion seemed to have the ‘jumper’ pen with extra high fences.