Authors: Eli Harlow
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. The Licensed Art Material is being used for illustrative purposes only; any person depicted in the Licensed Art Material, is a model.
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Savior copyright 2013 by Eli Harlow
Pale light shown in speckled waves through the open window, illuminating the quiet silhouette of a lone figure. The man sat at the head of a small carved wooden table. His light blue eyes, clearer than any summer’s day, bore into the mug of tea between his hands as if the answers he sought were buried somewhere within its amber depths. The long cold liquid offered little comfort though and he pushed it away grudgingly.
For months now he had felt a dark presence just beyond the protected borders of his forest home. Whether it was new or if it had always been there though he couldn’t tell. All he knew for certain was that it was growing more powerful by the day and that he had to find out what the source of it was before it grew any more.
Movement from the green fields outside his window caught his attention, momentarily disrupting his ominous thoughts. The horses were grazing on the lush grass the previous day’s ran had left behind. Feeling the man’s eyes on him, a lone head lifted from the ground. Dark chocolate eyes met blue as the white stallion turned toward him. He was waiting patiently outside by the time the man emerged from the cabin a few minutes later, smoothing down his outer cloak and taking a moment to inventory the supplies in his pack.
“Going for a trip, Marcus?” the stallion asked as he watched curiously over the man’s shoulder.
“Perhaps,” the man replied softly.
The stallion nodded and shook out his long white mane, his well-muscled neck and shoulders rippling in the sun.
. . .
Of all the places in the world, Marcus disliked his destination most of all. The long green grass brushed against his boots as he walked through the fields of Berkenshire. After hours of walking he was finally standing atop a small bluff overlooking the manor. The stone walls were crumbling and the weeds had long since overgrown the once beautiful gardens. Everything about the dwelling seemed crude and obscene. He walked down the hill and passed the first set of guards. They barely looked at him. He was obviously a nobleman, so there was no need to. The second set that stood against the large oak doors were a bit more difficult.
“Yes?” the larger one grunted. His breath was a putrid mix of rotting meat and cheap wine.
Marcus resisted the urge to vomit. “Marcus Lakyle to see Ruben Patlioma,” he informed the man. The man nodded and opened the door for Marcus. He stepped inside and squinted as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. A small girl of barely thirteen in a tattered brown dress was at his side in an instant. Her dark hair was tied back into a messy braid that hung far down her back.
“May I take your cape sir?” she asked with filthy outstretched hands while keeping her eyes averted. He shook his head no and she disappeared into another room. Heavy footsteps resounded through the halls as Ruben entered the room. The years had not been kind to him. Marcus remembered a young zealous nobleman with wealth and women to spare. Now he was a grizzled, overweight man in torn clothing with a slight limp in his left leg.
“Marcus, how very nice of you to pay me a visit.” It was obvious to anyone with even half a brain that the smile had been forced and the words were empty.
“It is good to see you again Ruben, it has been too long.” Marcus's own voice felt cheap and imitated. The men had not parted well, but there was business to discuss so Marcus forced himself to be far more polite than normal circumstances would have elicited. Ruben led the way into a small library, if it could even be called that. What books there were lay covered in a thick film of dirt and dust. The smell of mold and cigar smoke threatened to overcome Marcus. The sparse furniture was worn and most was either broken or hardly usable. A small fireplace lolled to sleep as the men sat across from each other in outdated chairs. Although the chairs were uncomfortable, Marcus did not fidget.
Ruben smiled- a horrid vision of rotting teeth and dead gums. “Wine?”
Before Marcus could protest Ruben snapped his fingers and a young girl entered the room with a bottle of wine and two empty crystal glasses on a silver tray. Marcus's heart broke as he realized what the girl really was. Her feathers had been cut to short brittle stumps to keep her from flying, but she was unmistakably an angel. Her brown hair lay in a tangled mess about her shoulders. The piece of dingy material that served as a dress barely touched her thighs. What tormented him inside though, what would continue to torment him, were the chains that bound her ankles, wrists, and neck.
She placed the tray down on the table between the men and poured Ruben’s glass first. Her hand was perfectly still and she poured the red liquid slowly so as not to slosh it. She lingered the mouth of the bottle over Marcus's glass. “No thank you,” he said politely.
She met his eyes for only an instant, and nodded. She replaced the cork in the bottle and walked toward the closest wall as fast as the chains would let her. She leaned against the wall and stared down at her dirty feet. Marcus watched her sadly and then turned his attention back to Ruben. “Is she your servant?” he asked, trying desperately to mask his anger.
Ruben laughed and shook his head. “She is my slave and whore. I have no servants.” He smiled cruelly at the girl and she looked away. She shifted her weight, appearing nervous under his gaze.
Even though it was against all the rules she found herself looking at Marcus with a child-like fascination. Compared to Ruben he was almost a god in her eyes. She started with his white leather boots but as she became bolder her eyes traveled over his golden ankle bracers and up his well-muscled thighs. His pants were white, as was his tunic. An impressive long sword hung at his side, held in place by a golden belt. She shivered at the thought of what a weapon like that was capable of. Over his hands and arms lay white leather gauntlets covered by golden bracers. His cape though, one as black as night, seemed out of place to her amidst all the white and gold. His broad shoulders and muscular chest lay in sharp contrast to Ruben’s own flab. Around his neck hung a silver chain. She found herself looking higher over his pale skin and blonde hair to his eyes. They were the color of the sky on the clearest summer day.
“Avert your gaze girl! You have forgotten your place!” Ruben screamed at her. She quickly looked away from Marcus’s face but the damage had already been done. “Come here,” he commanded sternly. She obeyed and stood at his shoulder. “You are never, and I repeat never, to look into the eyes of a nobleman. Do I make myself clear?” He grabbed her chin roughly and she trembled in his grasp. She nodded but as she did, her eyes met his accidentally. He released her chin and raised his hand to strike her.
“You will not do that,” Marcus said out of both annoyance and disgust.
Ruben nodded and forced the young angel to her knees with a strong hand on her shoulder. She resisted the urge to cry out despite the pressure. As her knees hit the wooden floor, Ruben released his grasp and brought his hand to her hair. She trembled as his callused fingers traveled over her cheek and neck.
“A creature that beautiful should not be kept in chains. I would like to buy her,” Marcus said as he watched her with a mix of pity and grief.
Ruben looked up at the peeling ceiling and traced the lines of her shoulder blades. “She is very rare and an exquisite representation of her species. And she is the only one in captivity. I doubt even you could afford her price.”
Marcus looked at the older man and produced a small leather pouch. He untied it and poured the contents onto the table loudly. “This should be enough, now release her,” he said as the pile of gold coins reflected brilliantly off the dim light in the room. Ruben nodded and his mouth twisted into a hideous grin as he fingered one of the many coins. “She is easier to control if you keep her chained,” Ruben said without taking his eyes off the gold.
“I have no intention of controlling her,” Marcus replied. “Now release her.” His hand went to the hilt of his sword in warning.
Ruben nodded and clutched the iron ring that hung tightly around her neck. She shuddered as his fingers grazed her skin. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered to her.
“Now, Ruben,” Marcus commanded darkly.
Ruben rolled his eyes and quickly unlocked her chains. She rubbed her raw wrists and moved her neck from side to side for the first time in months. Marcus stood and moved to her shoulder. “Follow me please,” he said. She nodded and swiftly moved to her feet.
He looked over her wrists and started walking to the door. Ruben’s hand rested on the arm of the chair next to her thigh and he reached out to touch her soft skin one last time. She shut her eyes tightly and shook her head no. He sneered at her and moved his hand under her skirt to her inner thigh. She whimpered and continued to shake her head no, but he ignored her futile protests. Ruben pulled at her tender flesh and continued to slide his hand upward. Marcus heard her pathetic cries and turned to face her.
His eyes widened at the scene before him and he roughly yanked Ruben’s hand away from her body. He moved between the angel and Ruben and led her out of the room with one last cold glare at the man that had held her captive. His hand rested firmly on her back as he led her past Ruben’s other slaves. They waved to her but she barely acknowledged them. The guards snickered as the angel passed them and she increased her step. She pulled her ill plumaged wings around her body as the bitter cold wind swept against her. She stole glances at Marcus as often as possible. He was a man, and as a man she should have feared him. But he didn’t treat her like the others had and he had actually stopped Ruben from touching her.
They walked through fields of yellow flowers and between hills of green. The wind became a steady battering as the black storm clouds invaded the afternoon sky. Her bare feet began to burn from the blisters that had been forming. Finally Marcus paused at the crest of a hill. A large forest lay ahead of them. As Marcus turned to the angel she watched the trees intently, not wishing to meet his gaze. “You are free now. Go back to your family.”
She continued to avoid his gaze. “But sir, I have none,” she whispered.
“No family?” she shook her head no and he paused, thinking of what to do with her. “I have a small cabin in the middle of the forest ahead of us. You are welcome to stay there with me for as long as you wish. Would you like that?” She nodded. “All right. Come on,” he said as he started walking again.
She followed closely behind him. At the crest of a large hill overlooking the forest her breath caught in her throat.
An immense archway of white marble stood before them. It was delicately carved with twisting ivy. On either side of the archway fierce lions stood guarding the entrance. The gate was far larger than she had thought possible. Each leaf of the intricately carved ivy was as big as her palm. It looked like it had taken master carvers years to complete.
The angel walked to one of the lions and rested her hand on its finely carved stone shoulder. She barely came up to his chin as she stood on her toes to trace the fine lines of his mouth and massive mane with her fingers. A great marble gate blocked their way into the forest. Upon the carefully polished gate was a legendary phoenix bearing forth its great wings of golden flames.
Marcus stepped up to the phoenix and placed a gentle hand on its chest. It glowed brightly under his palm and the ruby eyes suddenly lit up like fire. The angel was mesmerized and stared up at the bird.