Magistrate of the Dark Land

Part Two

by G. Lawrence

Mercenaries and warrior women

This is a fantasy novel providing high adventure and romance, but there are no dragons or wizards. There is Owen Vander, once a respected magistrate and now a drunk encountering mercenaries, fierce warrior women, and corrupt government officials. All characters in this story are over 18 years old.

Recap; On the road to Arbor searching for two kidnapped daughters, Owen has run across a woman being held captive by mercenaries. He had sought to protect her despite a lack of sword skill and was ordered to use the woman or the entire camp would. Though this violated Owen's most sacred code of ethics, he saw no alternative.

* * * * * *

Chapter Three

IGNOBLE DESCENT

I led Jalana by her leash down to the lake, hurrying as quickly as she could keep pace without stumbling. We reached the water where I dragged her in, wrapping the rope around a tree root before plunging deep to the murky bottom.

Out of fear of the mercenaries, I had desecrated my most sacred principles. Kept a woman prisoner. And committed an act of unredeemable barbarity, though feebly and without great success. I wished I could stay at the bottom of the lake forever. Better to have died fighting the mercenaries than sacrifice all I had ever believed.

No, that was wrong. Self-indulgent. While life remains, there is hope. Hope of succor. Hope for salvation. Justice. I returned to the surface, my lungs gasping for air. Jalana stood nearby in the thigh deep water, naked, hands tied behind her back and a leather collar around her neck.

"What ails you now, male? Embarrassed by your pathetic performance?" she chided.

"You should bathe," I said, barely able to look at her.

She stood quietly, gazing at me with eyes so dark they nearly appeared black. "Untie me," she said.

"No. I've haven't... I haven't given so much just to see you die now."

I tore off my clothes, dunked them in the water, and threw them over a tree branch to dry. My sword was back in camp, but the hunting knife lay in the mossy grass. I looked at the morning sun glistening off the blade with grim thoughts.

"You are much concerned with death," Jalana said. "Have you no thirst for life? No honor? Would you not rather die gloriously with the blood of enemies on your sword? Is there no man in you?"

"I thought there was until this morning," I answered, wading to the embankment. I wondered if it might be best to give Jalana the knife. With my clothes and a weapon, she could at least make a fight of it, though there was no chance of escape. There were no thick forests atop the Cat Mountains. No caves. No place to hide that the mercenaries couldn't find.

"I would bargain with you, male," Jalana said, drawing my moody attention. "Untie me that I might wash. Afterwards, I will return to your captivity until I may honorably cut your throat."

Without a moment of hesitation, I untied the leather binding on her hands and unclasped the chain from her collar, throwing both on the muddy shore. Jalana appeared shocked by my rapid compliance.

"So quickly am I freed?" she said, rubbing her wrists. "Do you know how easily I could seize that dagger and remove the part of you that offends me most?"

"More easily than you think," I answered, turning my back to crawl from the water.

The sun was now fully out from behind the morning cloud cover. Birds rustled in the trees as a wind picked up from the west. There could be rain by nightfall. I walked a good twenty feet from where Jalana stood and dropped behind a tree where she couldn't see me, brooding on the defects of my character. After freeing the daughters of Sir John and Sam Lolling, I determined to seek out a magistrate to judge my crime, perhaps at Taylor Creek. With such a resolve in mind, I took up the hunting knife and cut a shallow groove in my right forearm, watching the blood flow with satisfaction. The scar would mark my obligation.

When the bleeding subsided, I wiped my arm with damp grass and went back to find my clothes. Jalana sat on the shore shaking out her long black hair, now washed with soap root. It hung wet and silky around her bare shoulders. I hurried to put on my long sleeve shirt before she saw the brand of shame. Blood soaked through the fabric, but only faintly.

"What ghost lurks behind your eyes, male? Do you already feel my knife at your throat?" she asked, the anticipation bringing her pleasure.

"Are you ready to eat?" I asked.

"Will your ax brothers allow their slave food?" she sarcastically responded.

Had she spoken to Farlenger or Golan in such a manner, they'd have smacked the teeth from her mouth and left her to gum the dirt. It distressed me that Jalana took so little care to preserve herself.

"Here is the leather, you may bind me again," Jalana said, sitting on her knees with arms crossed behind her. I hesitated before dropping the knife in the grass. She saw the weapon within easy reach and looked up at me in puzzlement. I stood waiting for her reaction.

"Do you test the word of a warrior?" she asked.

"I cannot guarantee your safety. You wish to die gloriously, awash in the blood of enemies. Here is your chance," I said, kneeling next to her.

"Of all the cruelty given me by males, this is the most abominable," she said. "Why do you place a weapon before me when you know I may not be foresworn? Is the contempt in your heart so great you would rob me of eternal existence? And who asked you to protect me? I am a warrior beholding to no one. If the Dread Goddess wills that I die among enemies, she alone will decree my fate, not you or anyone."

"I envy your faith," I said, using the leather to tie her wrists. "There was a time I had such faith, long ago in another world. God that I had such faith today."

We went back to camp, Jalana following on the leash gripped tightly in my fist. Kaska came up to me, running his eyes over the female's ripe body before speaking.

"Golan complains of you before Thory. He says you treat the woman too well."

"She's bound on a rope in a camp filled with angry men who want her blood. Would you consider yourself well treated in her place?" I growled.

"No, I wouldn't," Kaska said, glancing at Jalana with an unspoken apology. "But you should speak with Thory before Golan has his way."

"Thank you, Kaska. Forgive my harsh words. It hasn't been a good morning," I said, unwilling to alienate my only friend in camp.

"Your arm bleeds. Did the she-devil bite you?" Kaska said with a grin. Jalana noticed the stain and looked at me with a question. I ignored her.

"I've had no breakfast and my slave needs food. Will you find some for me? I'll go speak with Thory," I said, handing the leash to Kaska. "And tie the wench firmly in my tent, she thinks of nothing but cutting throats. Mostly mine."

"That day comes," Jalana promised, stepping in front of me. "But until then, be careful with the ax leader. He lacks your innocence."

She looked at me strangely with those black eyes, seeking something I didn't understand. There was no fierceness in the gaze. No bloodlust. Was her warrior spirit surrendering to desperation?

"Let it be as the Dread Goddess wills," I said, striding across the camp to the large tent on the far side of the clearing. I passed the cooking pots where the morning meal had long since finished and nodded to Nilo, who was scrubbing plates in a wood tub. I asked him to fetch my medical bag and he jumped up without question. I wondered if healing was an art he wished to learn.

Three men stood in Thory's tent, Farlenger, Golan and Old Denart. Thory lay on the furs, a hand clutched to his side. The air smelled musky from a scented candle.

"I've come to dress the wound, Leader of the Black Axe," I announced, going down on one knee next to him.

"I'm told you don't keep faith with your word," Thory said with a gasp as I removed the old bandage.

"I keep faith in my own way. Who says differently?" I answered.

"Golan complains," Thory said.

"Golan should think more of corning stable hands and leave women to those who appreciate them," I responded.

A fist rocked the side of my face, knocking me across Thory into the side of the tent. I rolled on my back, hands up to defend myself. Farlenger and Denart were holding Golan back with all their strength.

"Let me kill him. I beg you, brother. Let me have his blood," Golan yelled. His face was red, muscles straining. The eyes nearly bulged with fire.

"You may not kill him, Shanks. He is guest to our camp and has provided service," Thory patiently explained.

"Then I offer challenge. Swords, daggers, ax, I care not. Meet me with weapons in hand," Golan demanded.

"No," I said, rubbing my cheek, thankful he hadn't struck me on the same side of the face where Jalana had. Now I would have matching bruises.

"No is a coward's answer. Why will you not face me?" Golan asked.

"I'm afraid of you," I replied.

"Bah!" Golan shouted. He waved his arms and stomped from the tent as his brothers released him. Farlenger and Denart followed just as Nilo arrived with my medical bag. The young man wanted to stay but I thought it best to examine the patient privately.

"Are you all right? Your hands are shaking," Thory said as I retook my original position on the floor next to him.

"I don't care for fighting," I said.

"Especially someone like Golan, I would guess. He'd break your spine in half and womanize you while you screamed."

"That's something I didn't need to know," I casually said.

I cleaned the wound, careful not to dislodge the stitching prematurely, and laid out a fresh bandage that would let the injury breathe. When I looked up, I saw Thory studying me with the eyes of a hawk.

"Clearly do you recognize a dangerous enemy, yet you provoked him anyway. I ask myself why," Thory said.

"What danger is there while I'm under your protection?" I asked. Thory reached up to poke the new bruise on my face, causing me to flinch. He laughed.

"I see how well you're protected, Magistrate. Is that what this is about? You draw Golan's anger away from the woman?"

"Sell her to me," I said without answering his question.

"I can't. I wish now I hadn't sworn blood oath upon her, but to back down will cost me the respect of the company. You understand that, don't you?"

I nodded. The principles of leadership are well understood by those placed in positions of responsibility. I myself had passed judgments that were later regretted.

"How is the wound?" he asked.

"No sign of infection thus far. You need more rest and a light diet. If all remains well, I'll pull the deep stitches in a few days."

"Deep stitches?"

"I sewed the lower intestine with cat gut, then a layer of muscle, and finally a cross over the flesh. It's a technique my mother taught me. We can break camp in five days if you don't mind walking, and if nothing festers, you'll be riding again in three weeks."

"I'm impressed. You speak like Jaka. And even though I've denied your request for the woman, you would still see my health restored."

"We made an agreement. Do you think my word less than yours just because I'm cowardly?" I asked.

"Yes, I can see what a coward you are. Be assured I will give you my protection as long as it's needed," he said. I felt relieved by his promise. If he could avoid infection for a few more days, I had no doubt he would survive. But the way Thory had phrased his reassurance, and the odd glint in his watchful eyes, did cause me some lingering apprehension.

I walked back to my tent at the far end of camp while dwelling on Thory's words. To my surprise, I found Kaska sitting inside with Jalana, feeding her duck scraps by hand. It astonished me that she hadn't bitten off his fingers.

"What is this?" I asked.

Jalana sat cross-legged in the middle of the tent, a blanket over her lap, the collar tied to the pole but with four feet of slack. She had a smile on her face and looked delectable in every way. Kaska was fully entertained, sitting close and carefully holding the fowl for her as she hungrily chewed, for her last meal had been nearly two days before. There was teasing going on but not about the meal.

"Ah, the Magistrate returns," Kaska said, a joke disguising his disappointment.

"Are you taking liberties with my property?" I asked.

"With your permission," he said.

"It's Jalana's permission you need," I responded, seeking my water bag and a rag to soak my latest bruise.

Kaska and Jalana looked at each other, startled by my remark.

"Am I not yours to giveaway?" Jalana asked, though I found it hard to tell if she liked the concept or found it complicating. Clearly the two had an attraction, and Kaska was more handsome than the average mercenary, having a square jaw and white teeth. The teasing between the two was a contest for her favors and both seemed to enjoy the game.

"Your face. Turn your head," Jalana said.

"I don't feel a need," I said, seeking a medicinal powder from my bag.

"Turn your face, male," Jalana ordered.

I lowered the rag and displayed my latest disgrace, the bruise swelling so blue that I could hardly see out of my left eye. Jalana and Kaska looked at each other and laughed.

"I'm glad you think it's amusing," I muttered, profoundly irritated.

Kaska set the food down to soak the rag further, studying the bruise with a frown.

"This is bad," Kaska said. He poked a finger near my eye and I flinched. The blow had been strongly delivered and well placed. Had I not expected Golan's reaction to my insult, it could have been worse.

"You must not incite Golan. He's a dangerous man," Kaska said.

"What did you say to him?" Jalana asked.

"It's not important, slave. Your place is to obey. I'll worry about Golan," I mumbled.

"I see how well you're doing that," Jalana remarked.

"If the day comes that I discover myself a naked captive at the mercy of pitiless enemies, I shall seek your advice," I said, wishing to change the subject.

"May that day come soon," Jalana spat, vengeance in her stare as she rocked back on her ankles.

Kaska picked up the tin plate of roast duck, choice morsels from what I saw, and resumed her feeding. Every once in a while he let her drink from the wine skin. Given the vulnerability of her position, I expected him to taunt her. It can be powerfully tempting to make a beautiful woman beg, but he simply fed her what she wanted, patiently and with a smile. Kaska was a good man.

"Now that I've served you, will you serve me?" Kaska asked, setting the plate aside.

"I will not be used as a she-slave. Not now, not ever. Untie me and we'll see who serves who," Jalana said.

"Thory untied you and got skewered like a spring suckling," Kaska said, a dance in his blue eyes.

"Thory is a pig. All males are pigs, else I would not be here instead of searching for my stolen sisters," Jalana complained.

"What do you think, Magistrate? Should I untie her?" Kaska asked.

"Warn me if you do. I'll leave the tent and make sure the weapons are outside. In the morning, I'll speak kind words of memorial over your grave," I promised.

Kaska's eyebrows went up in alarm, but when Jalana laughed, he laughed, too.

"I think this woman would be worth an early grave," Kaska said, all mirth suddenly set aside. He leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips. Jalana did not pull back, but she was surprised by the sudden sincerity. Kaska got up to leave.

"Magistrate, if there is no dishonor to the Black Axe, I will be at your side when the time comes," Kaska said. He left the tent without another word. I saw some duck left and took a bite, discovering my jaw ached as well.

"What did he mean by that?" Jalana asked.

I rolled on my side to take a short nap.

* * * * * *

During the following nights I made a point of joining my rowdy companions at their campfire. Kaska was talented on the banjo. I joined him with my flute. Fair-haired Bruner, a sailor in a former life, had a leather drum he used to set a steady beat. Together we made a pleasant trio that the brothers would sing along with. When it was my turn to tell stories, I recalled tales of my magistrate days, occasionally embellishing the details and providing a bit of humor. But I was also sure to make the moral implications clear. The Brothers of the Black Axe weren't in the south anymore where societies are less judgmental. We in the north can be a conservative people even if we don't always live up to our expectations. All in all, they weren't such a bad lot, despite a few short tempers.

I particularly liked Kaska and his cousin, Charnon. Both sturdy warriors well-acquainted with their trade. Charnon greatly resembled Kaska in many ways, being reasonably tall, wide in the shoulders, and trim at the waist. Typical of a good fighting man. Nor were the cousins poor soldiers of the road, dressing in colorful cotton shirts and carrying fine weapons.

One night after telling the story of the Vatar brothers and the tavern in Juniper, the three of us took our leisure on a log near my tent. It had drizzled that morning, but a warm sun dried the camp, leaving a fresh forest smell. Jalana was probably asleep, though I couldn't be sure. I usually spent my spare time in her vicinity to prevent problems, my longbow and quiver within reach. Poor as my sword skill may be, I could still put an arrow through someone's hand or foot if it proved necessary.

On this night I produced the bottle of Andian brandy gifted to me by Constable Stuart. The cousins were impressed by the quality, and rightfully so.

"Thank you for the learning, Magistrate," Kaska gratefully said, sipping the brandy carefully to savor its flavor.

"If you are to thrive north of the Arkland, it helps to know some of my kingdom's traditions," I advised, making the golden liquor swirl in my cup.

"We hear much of this Arkland, but few wish to say anything. Why is that?" Charnon asked.

I was hesitant to answer his question, for his observation was true. Even as a child, I had only heard of the Arkland discussed in hushed words. My body shook just thinking of the stories. Yet Charnon and Kaska deserved an answer.

"The Arkland is a mountain range dividing the river towns of Brookshire from the dry plains of the Angle. It's said to be a sinister land populated by evil cults. Their caves are decorated with the skulls of babies. Their sacrificial shrines stained with the blood of virgins. The priests are in league with dark deities, givers and takers of life, and they barter in souls. You'll be traveling the Piedmont Road on your way north. Stay on the trail near the river to avoid the Black Cliffs."

"Surely you cannot believe such mysticisms exist?" Kaska said. "You're an educated man, far more than we are. These are tales to frighten children. Entertainments for old women."

"Everyone I know believes it. They have always believed it. Even King Tarten refused to extend the royal authority into the dark reaches of the Arkland," I insisted.

"Are these priests obsessed with gold?" Charnon asked.

"No, from what they say, the priests have no use for worldly trinkets," I remembered.

"Then calm yourself. The Black Axe has no use for such a place," Kaska assured.

"I think we travel to this Angle you mention. What is it like?" Charnon asked.

"Though the lands along the Rohana are rich, the Angle is a barren wilderness. Harsh winds blow off the northern ice and farming is difficult. The country is good for cattle and sheep, and I've heard of large elk herds, but little else," I explained. "Much of Earl William's lands lie in the Angle, which is why he hopes to acquire new domains along the Great River. Baron Dudley of March has opposed him, as has Baron Lackston of Drew. As for Duke Rykar, few know whose side he will take. The balance of power seems to shift with the seasons. Fortunately, the townships of Arbor and Piedmont are far enough south to escape their ambitions."

"It's good to know where power lies. Perhaps we'll manage to stay out of trouble," Kaska hoped.

"Are you often in trouble?" I asked.

"As young men on the Ruu Range, we stole cattle. Sometimes we poached the King's deer," Kaska admitted.

"I once robbed a fat merchant who charged too much for his wines," Charnon said without pride.

"You're still young men. Twenty-five or twenty-six?" I guessed.

"Twenty-five. Kaska and I joined the brotherhood during the Samite War. Hell, only four years ago. We've traveled with honor ever since," Charnon explained.

"Honor?" I asked, involuntarily glancing toward my tent.

Kaska and Charnon looked embarrassed, accurately reading my thoughts. Perhaps the current situation was an aberration.

"I murdered a man," Kaska said.

All was quiet for a moment. I was magistrate no longer, nor an officer of the kingdom where they grew up. My opinion would be meaningless.

"Do you wish to discuss it?" I asked.

Many young men make mistakes, and I sensed Kaska regretted his. Justice not tempered with mercy is no justice at all, so I waited for him to elaborate. Charnon was grim. All of us had our fill of brandy, especially me, but the bottle wasn't empty.

"It was not my intention," Kaska confessed, drinking deeply from his cup. "The storekeeper's son. Todd of Ransom Hall. He and I loved the same girl. Now he's dead and I'm in exile."

"It's not an unusual story. I've adjudicated several such cases. Why do you think yourself guilty of murder?" I questioned.

"Todd wasn't a fighter. More of a bookkeeper. He kept accounts for his father. Sandria would have had a fine house and much wealth. Her father wanted the match. Her mother made Sandria a wedding dress. She loved me but was obligated to obey her parents. I challenged Todd and killed him," Kaska said.

"It wasn't that simple," Charnon disagreed.

"The facts rarely are," I said.

"We were in the tavern. Todd broke a bottle and tried for Kaska's throat. It was self-defense," Charnon said.

"No, not self-defense. I didn't have to use my knife. It didn't need to go that far," Kaska disagreed.

"You were exiled, not condemned. The judge ..." Charnon was saying.

"The judge wasn't in the tavern," Kaska said, taking another swig.

"In my experience, judges are rarely fools. Was it a biased court?" I asked.

"No, all agreed on the fairness of the verdict," Charnon quickly said.

"Todd's father didn't," Kaska felt obliged to mention.

"No father would. Kaska, we all make mistakes. I've made more than you, and if the gods are cruel, I'll live longer to regret them. Only a good man feels a need for redemption. Is it your desire to be better than you were?"

"Of course," he said.

"Then you have only to make your desire come true," I counselled. "You are blessed, my young friend. Don't wander from the truth that inhabits your heart."

"Your people were indeed lucky to have such a magistrate," Charnon said, looking at me with new respect.

"Tell me what brings two young cousins so far upriver. Rarely do we see professional soldiers this far from the oceans," I requested.

"The wars are over, at least for now," Charnon said. "Some have gone back to the farms. The towns once again immerse themselves in trade. Many take to the sea, sailing to far off lands in search of adventure. Most of our regiment returned home to start families, but some of us weren't ready for a domestic life. The road from war to peace isn't easy."

"Charnon could have married his sweetheart. Her father offered a rich farm on the Lorenaba River just south of Bask Township. Good land. Nice people. But I could not go back, so he will not go back," Kaska said.

"Much of the brotherhood has reasons for not going home. Such is the way of fighting men when there are no wars to fight," Charnon said.

"This land has no war yet. Civil unrest, to be sure, but no organized forces have arrayed against each other. I pray it doesn't come to that," I said. "We're not wealthy like the kingdoms closer to the sea. Most of us live simple lives and desire no more. Allow me to hope your brotherhood doesn't find too much work."

"Hired swords stop more wars than they start. At least, that's what Thory always says, and he's been in service twenty years," Kaska mentioned.

"Maybe it's true," I replied, though I greatly doubted it.

* * * * * *

"Thory feels ready to move down the mountain. We'll start at noon," I said to Jalana as we sat next to the lake. The cloudy weather had improved, the threat of rain gone. The pastures were bursting with new growth.

"Is seven days enough to recover his strength?" she asked.

"He won't be riding a horse for another two weeks. Or anyone else. We'll take the gorge trail as far as Walnut Creek and see how he fares."

There was a tug on my fishing line and I quickly pulled it in, but my prey had escaped. I dug up another worm from the mud and tossed the line back in the water. Though her hands were still tied behind her and the collar secure, Jalana wore my blue weave shirt that hung halfway down her thighs. Leather slippers protected her feet.

"Golan complains you don't keep me naked and thus properly humiliated," Jalana said.

"Golan complains about a lot of things," I answered.

"He says you break your word to Thory. Others grumble, too," Jalana said.

"Do you want to be paraded around?" I asked.

"No, but I saw Pinet shove you in the fire last night. They insult you but you don't fight back."

"A bruise or two is nothing to brood on."

"Maybe you should not be so stubborn about certain things?" she suggested.

"You're my property until Thory is able to take his revenge. I don't want a bunch of drunken fools usurping my rights."

"Rights you rarely exercise."

I turned my face away from her. Under pressure from Farlenger and Pinet, I had made half-hearted attempts to use her twice more. I hadn't felt the same sense of excitement as the first time, nor such profound fear. Yet the less interest I showed in the charade, the more Jalana would scream and flail about as if under brutal attack, shouting blood-curdling oaths.

"Are you truly so poor with a sword as you believe?" Jalana suddenly asked.

"Worse. I can hold my own with a staff, and my archery isn't bad, but I have no sword talent at all."

"Farina are born to the sword. From earliest girlhood we practice, fight, and seek enemies to test our skill. Give me a sword and I will defend you from Golan."

"I will not give you a sword and I don't need your protection from Golan."

"The man wants your blood, Owen. Even more than he wants mine. Kaska says you will never get down the mountain if Golan has his will."

"Golan is a warrior. He sees himself as an honorable member of his profession. What glory would he find running his sword through someone like me?"

"You must not wager your life on the man's honor. Such as he changes temper with the sun and moon."

"Are you trying to frighten me?" I asked.

"It isn't hard," she said with a smile.

I nodded agreement. There was hardly a moment in the day I wasn't afraid of Golan or one of his confederates sneaking up and bashing out my brains. My stomach was in such a knot that I found it hard to eat. Only down at the lake did I feel safe, being a strong swimmer.

We walked back to camp, Jalana dropping behind me only as we came into view of the mercenaries. Parasol and Skippet stood ready, Nilo having rolled up my tent and tied down the packs.

"Thank you, friend," I said.

"I owe you thanks, Magistrate. Learning your healing skills gives me value to the company. I won't be washing plates much longer," the young man happily replied.

"You have an aptitude for medicine. You should consider taking the training at Crowley," I recommended.

"Crowley?" he questioned.

"Crowly is a university town on the east bank of the Great River," I explained. "The schools offer educations in medicine, letters, engineering, and husbandry. I spent two winters there studying law."

"I can learn from you," he answered.

"No, Nilo, I'm not a physician. I have a little knowledge gifted by my mother. A doctor needs to know more than tricks with cat gut and sewing needles."

Nilo walked away with a bounce in his step. Lean and growing tall, he reminded me of my youth. A clear light in his slate gray eyes shined with a healthy optimism that I envied.

The company was forming for the march. The scouts would go first, riding the best mounts. The rest of us would follow on foot, the trail wide enough for three people walking abreast, the horses and baggage bringing up the rear. I took my bow and quiver from Skippet's pack, slinging them over my shoulder, and went to find Thory while towing Jalana behind me.

"You must tread the trail carefully, Leader of the Black Axe. The inner stitches removed well but I have no desire to try it again," I said.

"I can hardly move in this accursed girdle," Thory said, twisting in the tight leather wrap I had sewn around his waist. "How could the stitches move when I cannot?"

"Do not seek to test it," I answered, checking the belts one last time.

"You would not worry about stitches if my knife had found your liver," Jalana said.

"You had best keep your tongue, she-devil," Thory said coldly.

"Or what? You'll beat me? I would rather you beat me than let your miserable scum-eating minions beat Owen, you crawling yellow coward. At least I will fight back," Jalana said. Thory's face turned red, his fists clenched.

"Enough foolish talk, you must stay calm for the trail," I lectured Thory.

"The woman would not be insulting me if you punished her properly," Thory complained with a grunt.

"I'll punish her if she's not respectful," I promised.

"And how will you do that? Dress her in silks and kiss her feet?" Thory asked.

Now it was my face that turned red. Jalana laughed, thinking it a good joke. Then Thory laughed, too. I didn't think it was funny.

"Maybe I will not whip you after all," Thory said, taking hold of Jalana's collar chain. "Much money can be made from a sultry she-slave with fire in her eyes. There will be many customers anxious for a ride. And I'll only charge a copper each."

"A copper? A copper for such as I? You god-cursed filthy mucker. Next time my knife will cut your throat," Jalana yelled.

She turned sideways and kicked at Thory's wounded gut. Only at the last second did I step in the way, blocking the blow with my kidney. I dropped to the ground moaning in pain.

"This day has started well," Thory said with a grin, walking to the head of the column.

"I'm sorry, Owen. Does it hurt?" Jalana said, squatting next to me.

I was still gasping for air.

"Magistrate, why are you crawling on the ground this time?" Kaska said, approaching with Charnon close behind. They were dressed for the road, Kaska wearing a wide-brimmed campaign hat. Charnon let his long blond hair shine under the bright sun held back by a red headband.

"The she-devil kicked me," I wheezed.

"Good it is you keep her tied or we would all be dead by now," Charnon said.

"Charnon speaks true. In the south we only hear legends of the Amazoi. If they are all such as Jalana, they are best kept in the north," Kaska said.

"I am no heathen Amazoi, unshorn boy-child. As much as your kind deserves such a trimming," Jalana protested, cheeks puffing with insult.

"There is no difference. Such women believe themselves superior to men. And all look delectable in a man's shirt," Charnon said, sharing a laugh with Kaska.

"Come to the forests of the Farina. We shall see who laughs longest at your jests," Jalana challenged.

"We'll let Magistrate have that honor, woman. His mastery of you is a lesson to us all," Charnon replied, white teeth showing through a broad smile.

"It pleases me to have such admiring friends," I said, letting Kaska help me to my feet. After a series of short breaths, I finally managed to stand upright, looking at Jalana under a bent brow. Her expression of regret was less than sincere.

"We will walk the trail with you today, Magistrate. We hear it grows narrow in places," Kaska said.

"We would not have someone shove you off a cliff," Charnon added.

"Have you grown so concerned for my welfare?" I asked.

"There is still a long journey ahead," Charnon said. "Who will provide endless amusement around the campfire if you are gone? Who would Jalana have to beat up?"

"Who would teach us law and why it stands so close to your heart?" Kaska asked, his smile subdued.

"What do you say, Jalana? Shall we welcome their company on the trail?" I asked.

"Let them not expect my use in return. I am no copper slut," Jalana said.

"You are worth a gold robbin, at least," Charnon grinned.

Jalana raised her chin, complimented and insulted at the same moment. I went to attach lead lines to Parasol and Skippet. Parasol was getting temperamental, unwilling to leave the pleasant pasture for the rough dirt road. Skippet was bucking the weight of her pack, the white hoofs kicking dust. A few green apples helped settle them down. When I returned to my travel party, I found them huddled in secretive conversation.

"What causes such seriousness?" I asked, approaching quietly.

All three jumped in surprise, Jalana most of all. I think it was the first time I'd ever seen her startled. None appeared inclined to respond.

"I would have an answer," I insisted, disturbed by their guilty expressions.

"The woman fears you lack friends among the Black Axe," Charnon said.

"And how would she find these friends?" I asked in sudden anger. Jalana looked at the ground in shame. They all did.

"We did not accept," Kaska said.

"But we wanted to," Charnon admitted.

"It's my body," Jalana defended, her embarrassment turning to self-righteousness. "If Golan kills you, what would happen to me? How would I seek vengeance on my enemies? How will I find my stolen sisters?"

"You weren't worried about these things before. Has anything else been offered?" I asked, unable to suppress a deep frown.

"I have nothing else, male, as all of you have made clear," she said, shifting to a dangerously defiant stance.

Kaska and Charnon jumped back beyond reach of her feet. Kaska threw me the rope attached to Jalana's collar.

"We will await you on the trail, Magistrate," Kaska said as he and Charnon made a run for their backpacks.

I reeled Jalana in close enough to be at the mercy of her knee. Her eyes were deep enticing pools. The pouting lips begging to be kissed. A nervous shudder ran down her spine as she wondered what I was thinking.

"You don't need to compromise your honor, war captain of the Red Leather. I'm prepared to do enough compromising for both of us," I whispered, taking her in my arms. "Eat well, stay strong, and look for the day you again hold a sword in that fierce little fist of yours."

"I'm not afraid of the future," Jalana said.

"That's good, because you don't have to be," I answered. Then I surrendered to the moment and gave her a long, lingering kiss, hoping all the while her knee wouldn't send me to the ground.

* * * * * *

The new camp was made twenty yards from Walnut Creek. Rapids upstream kept the water turbulent while the green forests had finally grown thick with firs and pine trees. We had traveled five days from the high pastures, the Cat Mountains now behind us. Thory was improving more rapidly than expected, nearly ready to set a horse. Many in the brotherhood were wondering when he would take vengeance on the she-devil who had laid him low.

I was growing impatient with Parasol. Had there been a mule or donkey available, I would quickly have made the trade, the insolent horse shaking her head at every entreaty and often trying to step on my feet. Skippet had finally settled down, matching the pace of the march and carrying the packs without complaint. Not to compare Jalana to a young mare, but she had settled down, too, declining to insult where she had once threatened death. Farina warriors are proud of their fearlessness, but no one is truly unafraid. I worried that the impending reckoning with Thory was beginning to sap her spirit.

With my tent pitched at the edge of the clearing and my cooking fire burning in a rock pit, I skinned a rabbit for the evening meal. A sudden clanking noise from the trail put everyone on alert, but it was only a gray-haired tradesman packing goods between small villages in the foothills. The lone traveler was cautious at first, but when he saw the banner of the Black Axe waving above our camp, he relaxed, for professional warriors were not known to rob humble merchants. It's bad for business.

The tradesman was named Karneseum, an elder from the modest village of Rima that supplied herbs and fruit to Arbor. His specialty was dyed leather, mostly raw materials that could be cut for vests, jackets and hats. He was also a fount of information about the Rohana River Valley which the Black Axe would pass through on their way north. And having a close connection with Arbor, he had recent information on the Great River, too.

"Then you think there is still work for good fighting men?" Thory asked as we finished sharing a meal of fish and game bird. All except Jalana were sitting around a bonfire listening to the old man's stories. She remained back at my tent, chained closer than usual to the center pole.

"Too much work, if you ask me," Karneseum said. "The barons struggle for control of the Low Greens. Freebooters have spilled into the valley, and some say Duke Rykar now takes back that which he gave Earl William but a few years ago. No town is safe. Even Rima Township hires a sheriff, though all the lazy son of a bitch does is eat our food and chase our wives. The people are much tired of noble feuds."

"Just as leather is your business, quarreling nobles are our business," Thory said, pleased with the news.

"Have slavers been seen in the area?" I asked.

"None that will show their wares. We have no commerce with such in these parts, though a wagon was seen on the main road with its flaps tied shut," Karneseum recalled. "I've heard trade in women has sprung up on the river docks, but nothing the authorities will sanction. It's different in Kannae."

"Why is that?" Kaska asked.

"Barbarism now rules the North Reach. Swords are the only law. Death is the price of loyalty to the King's memory. I pity the young women taken to those lands. Short and brutal are the lives of slaves under the rule of Lord Kirkon, and I care not who hears me say it," Karneseum said with brave bitterness.

"Surely it cannot be so bad as all that. Stories told often grow bigger with the retelling," Charnon questioned.

"That you must judge for yourself," Karneseum said, getting to his feet. "The moon is high and I have a long road ahead. Thank you for your hospitality."

"You've been generous with your tidings. It's we who owe thanks," Thory said, standing slowly to shake hands.

Karneseum paused as if struggling with a difficult question. He turned toward his horses, walked a few steps, and then turned back so frightened his hands were shaking. Proud shoulders were bent in humility.

"You have a woman chained by the neck," Karneseum said, pointing toward Jalana. "I have little money, but many leathers and some belts. I will buy her from you. Name a fair price."

"And what would you do with such luscious meat, old man?" Pinet chuckled.

"I will set her free," Karneseum said, meeting the mocking gaze with defiance.

All in the camp were quiet, the only sound that of the bonfire and the night owls.

"The woman is not for sale," Thory eventually said.

"I suspected as much," Karneseum said, sadly going back to his horses. He got up on his spotted gelding, gathered the ropes of the two trailing horses, and looked back a final time.

"Do not come to Rima, brothers of the Black Axe. You are not welcome," Karneseum said. And with that he disappeared into the darkness.

"This isn't good," Golan said.

"Someone should put an arrow in the old bastard's back before he makes trouble for us," Pinet suggested.

"You'll leave the old man alone or ride with another company," Thory quietly ordered.

"We shouldn't take the risk," Farlenger objected. "If we'd killed the she-devil on the mountain, she wouldn't be here to make enemies with the locals."

"Maybe someone is getting too old for leadership?" Pinet suggested. "I would have a leader who can still ride a horse."

"And I think you're the one we should have left on the mountain, or back in that pit of a prison where we found you," Charnon said, standing tall over Pinet in the firelight.

"Brothers, we must not fight so close to our goal. Tempers flare when the trail grows long," Thory said, raising his hands for attention.

I was listening to their bickering even while placing a saddle on Skippet. A moment later I was mounted at the edge of the clearing.

"I will deal with the old man. There will be no trouble," I announced.

Before the surprised brotherhood objected, I gave Skippet a kick and we rode into the darkness. It was an hour before I returned.

"Magistrate, I am displeased with you," Thory said, rising from a log next to the fire as I unsaddled my horse. "Some here want to slay you for betraying us. You need an explanation."

He stood with fists clenched on his hips. The entire brotherhood was on their feet watching me. With relief, I saw Kaska and Charnon standing close to Jalana. For the first time, she actually looked scared.

"Brothers, all is well," I said in practiced innocence, walking straight to Thory and bowing in homage.

"In what manner is all well?" Pinet asked.

"I explained to the merchant that the wench is a criminal, called upon to stand judgment for stabbing the Black Axe leader. My reputation is not unknown in these parts. As a former magistrate, I had no trouble convincing him that we're on our way to Arbor where the woman will be surrendered to proper authority. He was much reassured and invites us to visit his village."

The mob grew calm, most nodding with approval. Thory was particularly relieved, causing me to think he had stood my cause. I could not condone his treatment of Jalana, but ingratitude wasn't one of Thory's faults.

As all returned to drinking and bantering, Nilo took Skippet back to the tether line and I went to my tent.

"Thank you," I said to Kaska and Charnon without elaborating, for no more needed to be said. I embraced each of them as brothers, for it was truly how I felt.

"You've served us well tonight, it's we who thank you," Charnon said, returning to the fire. Kaska began to follow but I took his arm.

"Tomorrow, at sunset," I whispered.

Kaska nodded and went to help Nilo with the horses.

"You're a foolish male," Jalana angrily complained when we were alone. "Never have I seen one court death so carelessly. Many are those who wished you dead, only Thory and a handful of followers held them back. Must you be so stupid?"

"I find such sentiments strange coming from you," I could only say, taking her back to the tent and settling down on a fur. I was tired, my nerves frayed.

"In what manner are they strange? Speak now before I hurt you," she demanded. She sat close to me with her feet unbound. It was not an empty threat.

"You have sworn to face me with swords if ever again you are free. Given my skill, it would be a brief challenge, and death at the hands of Farina can be unpleasant. Should I not prefer the quick death offered by the brotherhood?"

"I will not face you with swords. You are too inept and cowardly for such battle. Better to cut your throat and be done with it."

"I may hold you to that someday," I agreed. "But I don't seek to die just yet. Thory won't act rashly in a strange land, nor am I without friends in the camp. The danger was Pinet might have slipped out into the darkness and killed the old man on the trail. That I could not allow. What was done needed to be done."

"Why, Owen? Why is it your risk to take? And what are you not saying? What mischief lies behind those troubled green eyes of yours?"

"Come tomorrow at this time, we may be enemies. Nothing will please you more than my blood on your blade, and for that I'm sorry. But for tonight, you're mine."

I pulled her into my lap and undid the ties on her shirt, tossing the garment aside. Then I kissed her slowly, savoring her scent in the moonlit tent.

"I will not take you as a she-slave," I said as my blood began to boil. That my desire was strong would be no surprise to Jalana, given where she lay.

"Untie me and I will not be a she-slave," she hotly whispered.

"To my everlasting regret, I can't untie you, little eagle. Not tonight with so many interested in our doings. But I'm going to hold you close, and breathe you in, and remember this night for the rest of my life."

"You are cruel to talk in riddles," she said as I laid her out on the fur next to me.

"Are you still a she-slave if you accept pleasure without being forced to give it?" I asked, running my hand down the length of her body.

"You scare me, Owen. Never before have I known you in such a mood."

I answered her concern with a kiss. She had been given so much pain in the weeks since her capture, and still had a final trial ahead. After that which was to come, I'd never be forgiven, so I made what amends were available.

* * * * * *

The next morning started cloudy but turned blue before noon, only wispy white streaks marking the sky. Low on provisions, it was decided to remain a day or two to hunt and fish. Once down in the valley, acquiring food would be easier but costly. I encouraged this effort, going out with my bow to make a contribution. I did not return with a kill, but several others did, the forest rich with deer and wild pigs. At midday a young man rode by with fresh bread rolls and two large jars of strawberry jam, compliments of the villagers of Rima. Thory strode about the camp showing off the bounty with particular satisfaction, throwing one of the rolls in Pinet's face, for the gifts confirmed everything I had said the night before.

As the afternoon encroached, I took Jalana down to the creek for a bath, but so lost in thought I wasn't good company.

"May I give my word, Owen?" Jalana asked, turning her back so the leather on her wrists could be removed.

In but a breath the leather was gone. Jalana wasted no time removing her shirt and plunging into the water. I settled on the bank slowly, taking in the day. Birds sang in the trees and trout broke along the surface in abundance. A herd of deer appeared on the far bank a hundred feet away, but I didn't have my bow.

"It's glorious to be free," Jalana said, waving her arms above her head, the long black hair hanging halfway down to her perfectly curved bottom. She turned to face me, letting me see all. Indeed, she was glorious. On the last day of my life, nothing could be better than watching her frolic in the creek alive and happy.

"We have soap root, Owen. What are you waiting for?"

I slid down the muddy slope to join her, using the soap root for purification. I had no clue what rituals warriors use when going into final battle. As archers in the township militia, we had sat around the campfire naïvely boasting of our courage, then going to our bedrolls quietly praying. I'm sure true warriors, being made of firmer fiber, have better ways to prepare their spirits. Some intimate way of connecting with the gods. I could not worry about that now.

A wind blew through the trees like the plaintive howl of a wolf. I scanned the far side of the creek and saw a tall, jagged rock. The color was appropriate.

"See there," I said, pointing.

"See what? Those hawks?" Jalana asked.

"No, the sharp red rock tipped upward facing north."

"What of it?"

"I want you to remember it."

"Why would I remember a rock?"

"I've said a prayer for that rock."

"Do you think the rock needs so much help?" she asked, a teasing smile on her lips.

"Sometimes even a rock needs help."

The sun had passed well overhead before we returned to camp. The hunt had been good, nearly everyone busy cleaning carcasses, cutting meat and curing skins. I had Jalana sit outside, once again bound and collared, while I sat in the tent and wrote Sir John a letter apologizing for my failure. Hopefully another could do a better job of finding the lost daughters than I had, but I wished him to know I hadn't given up easily, nor stolen his money. Sometimes ventures simply do not turn out well.

"We feast tonight, Magistrate," Thory said, poking his head in the tent and startling me. "With wine country below us, and towns for beer, we won't hold back the last of our rations."

I sealed the letter and placed it on my pack, trusting it would find a way home someday, and emerged into the early dusk.

"I, too, feel like celebrating. Arbor is but a few days away and we'll be parting company. I would still like to buy the woman."

Thory's smile faded as he looked toward Jalana sitting nearby, her black eyes staring at him like daggers. He seemed unhappy I had brought the subject up.

"You know I can't. My leadership has already been challenged, and with the wound still mending, I'm ill-prepared to defend my rights against Farlenger. Besides, what would you do with so much woman? Set her free?"

"Probably, but not right away," I said, grinning lustfully at Jalana. She turned her back on me. Thory laughed.

"As I cannot buy her, it's still possible to profit from her," I announced. "I will have a special treat at the banquet tonight."

"What treat would that be?" Thory asked, suspiciously eyeing my strange behavior.

"An auction," I answered, refusing to say more.

* * * * * *

"You will not sell me. I'll kill you first. I'll kill you and rip out your heart with my teeth."

"I'm not selling you, woman. Only renting your use to the highest bidders. Business will be good," I said.

Jalana sat on a fallen log just beyond the edge of the clearing where I could still see the camp through the trees. She wore my blue weave shirt, her collar chained to a tree branch. I had put on my best clothes and leather boots, Sir John's sword hanging bravely at my side.

"In battle, what's the best way to keep an enemy at bay?" I asked, drawing the weapon and swiping at the air.

"If you're going to swing like a little girl, it's best to fall on your knees and beg for mercy," Jalana sneered.

"I've thought of that," I said, thrusting with the sword instead of waving it.

"Perhaps you will make the enemy laugh themselves to death," Jalana said in admiration of my technique. "Untie me. I'll show you how to use a sword."

I shifted to a new stance, my feet wide, one hand on the hilt, the other holding the tip of the blade.

"This could block a downward blow," I stand, bending my knees and weaving.

"If you don't mind losing your fingers," Jalana said. "The hilt has a guard for a reason, and if you were supposed to hold the sharp end, it would not have a point."

She was right. I went back to swiping instead, thinking a strong swing might keep an enemy back. Especially if it was wild enough.

"It's too late to impress me with your prowess. With a sword or any other way," Jalana said.

I went over to the log, careful to avoid her feet, and gave her a long kiss, holding the collar so she couldn't pull away. Then I jumped back as her kick sought to disable me.

"Arrogant male," Jalana said, spitting on the ground.

Kaska came forward with a flask of black wine. I took a gulp.

"How is your sword work?" Kaska asked.

"I've never been better," I responded.

"A girl-child could carve his manhood faster than he can blink his eyes," Jalana said.

"Damn it, woman, I wish you'd not talk about dismembering body parts. Go back to throat cutting if you must," I protested. Jalana turned away, attempting to ignore us.

"Doesn't she know?" Kaska whispered in surprise.

"The slave knows only what she needs to know. The business of males is none of her concern," I insisted, indicating with my eyes to say no more. Kaska nodded, though I saw a glimmer of doubt in his expression.

"When the sun sets it will be time to gather at the fire," Kaska said. "We'll eat first and toast our good fortune. There may be a speech or two. Thory says few words, but Denart will wish to thank the gods properly. Then we'll proceed to the auction. Many in the company are excited, though Golan and Pinet declare it a trick. They believe you love this woman too much to sell her."

"Love?" Jalana said, her head snapping around. Her look caught me off-guard. I glanced away to compose my thoughts before speaking.

"My fondness for the woman matters naught," I said. "She is but a female, and the world is full of females. Many are prettier, and some are better warriors."

"Better?" Jalana shouted, jumping at me with murder in her eyes.

I climbed over the log to get away. When the collar chain would not let her get closer, she used her toes to throw dirt at me.

"It's good to see her courage glow so brightly, Magistrate. These last few days I worried for her," Kaska said, meeting Jalana's anger with a dismissive grin.

"Your blood will glow bright on my sword if you have the courage to face me," Jalana said, once again turning away from us.

I walked Kaska back to camp, leaving Jalana to brood.

"She seems unhappy with you," Kaska whispered.

"Golan is not the only one who doubts my resolve," I replied. "But when they see the fury in Jalana's eyes and hear her dire threats, all will know my intention to auction her use is sincere."

I reached into my leather belt and took out several coins.

"Gold? For use of a woman?" Kaska said.

"Share this with Charnon. Start the bidding with a few coppers and go to silver circles when Golan grows frustrated. Raise to gold only if you have to, but regardless, you and Charnon must have the two highest bids. Nothing less will do."

"I don't understand. You don't really mean to sell her use, do you?"

"Don't you want her?" I asked.

"You know that answer, and Charnon wants her even more. But not as a she-slave. We want her body, not her spirit."

"If I had a younger brother, I would want him to be you," I said, wrapping an arm around Kaska's shoulders.

It was a splendid meal. Roasted deer meat, boiled spinach and the merchant's bread rolls left everyone well fed. A few game hens added variety to the menu. We ate raspberries for dessert. The ale flowed freely, and though I should not have drunken so much, I still kept my wits about me. Golan watched me closely, his hands twitching. I made every effort not to appear concerned. Yet in truth, I felt a crawling fear inside that only the wine was suppressing.

Jalana was left in my tent, given a bread roll and fried trout. I let Nilo do the feeding, not wanting my fingers chewed off on such an important night. She had not spoken to me since Kaska had come for us in the woods. I preferred it that way.

Thory made a speech, short as promised. Denart was long-winded, just as Kaska warned. The mercenaries looked forward to good employment with Earl William, no doubt some fighting, but mostly garrison duty in quiet towns needing their protection. Regular meals and fair pay awaited them on the far side of the Arkland. The gods were offered thanks, and at the end of the prayer, a sacrificial deer's head was thrown into the bonfire. The men of the Black Axe Company cheered and raised their cups in brotherhood.

"And now, Magistrate, it's time to keep your word," Golan said, a hand poised on his heavy broadsword. I did not believe he would draw the weapon, he was just trying to scare me.

"Brothers of the trail, I would not have you disappointed," I said, standing before the fire. "Thory, I wish to thank you for use of the woman. And though she is mine for only another day or two, tonight she remains my property to employ as I will. My road to Arbor has been long and I have many duties requiring funds, therefore I will make use of my property. But heed this warning, brothers. I have great fondness for the woman, as many know, and therefore will only offer three uses. The highest bid will have first use."

The men murmured, some disappointed, most nodding. That I would limit use of the woman made sense to those who thought me too kind-hearted to fulfill my promise.

"Let us see the prize, Magistrate, that we might know the truth," Golan said.

"If this is a trick, be prepared to join her on your knees," Pinet warned, causing me to wonder which of us the son of a bitch would prefer.

I went back to the tent, unchained Jalana from the center pole, and removed the blue shirt to reveal her wares. She gazed at me with the pain of deep betrayal. I dragged her outside as she fought the collar around her neck.

"Don't, Owen, please don't. By the Dread Goddess, let me fight instead," she begged, struggling as I pulled her toward the bonfire. I reeled her in short of the circle to whisper in her ear.

"I would appreciate it if you don't kick me in a vital spot tonight. Spare me such a blow and I will face you with swords."

"Tomorrow?" she asked.

"You may decide the time and place, so long as I survive your wrath another hour," I promised.

"Then enjoy your final night on earth, male, for the morning sees your last breath," she swore loud enough for all to hear.

* * * * * *

Continued on part three: the auction of Jalana