Stronger than Bone (22 page)

(Present Day: 237 Cycles into the Light)

Joszette was still in a daze when strong arms lifted her off of the floor and carried her to her bed. Her eyes remained closed as they laid her down gently and spread a blanket over her. She felt a heavy weight press down on the bed next to her, and her eyes fluttered open. A hulking man sat on the edge of the bed next to her.

“Who are you?” she asked timidly.

The big man let out a deep friendly chuckle from within his barrel chest. He smiled widely and turned to look her in the eyes.

He had the musky scent of a man who had not bathed recently, although it wasn’t as unpleasant as most. There was a hint of spice or some kind of scented oil accompanying the natural smell that made him seem less offensive. She noticed right away that he was enormous, bigger than most men. His shirt was open low on his chest and thick curly hair covered the otherwise exposed skin.
“He’s so hairy,”
she thought.
“Please, don’t touch me.”

“You’ve been up to something Miss,” said Curly in his deep baritone voice. “Your dress…and your face, are…stained with blood, but it doesn’t appear to be yours?” he said in an overly friendly voice and with the same wide smile plastered across his face. “Do you mind sharing with me what happened? You have no idea how curious I am.”

“I…I don’t know,” Joszette said quietly.
“That was real?”
she thought, remembering bits of waking in the forest. Suddenly she remembered Charity and she started.
“Oh God!”
She looked around for her frantically, and tried to sit up.

“Whoa,” said Curly, pressing her back down effortlessly with one hand. “What are you so excited about?” He kept the hand firmly on her shoulder and looked around the room thoughtfully. “Are you looking for something…, or is it someone?”

Joszette stopped struggling and lay still. She stared at the big man, and tears welled in her brown eyes. Remnants of terrible dreams slipped into her consciousness, and her head swam in dizziness and confusion. Scents of wood, earth, and stone, mixed with spice and sweat wafted through her nostrils. She recalled the cold steel of a shackle and chain holding her ankle to a ring in the cold hard floor, and she felt the pain of it rubbing constantly when she moved. It felt real, even though she knew it was just a dream or a memory.

Joszette recalled darkness and hunger, and then blinding light and loneliness. They seemed real again as she fought to separate past from present, and dreams from reality.
“Maybe they aren’t dreams after all! Maybe those terrible things did happen!”
She pressed her eyes shut as hard as she could and turned her head away from the big bear of a man next to her.

The weight lifted noticeably from the bed as the man stood. Her eyes snapped open as hands forced her arms above her head and tied them to the bed posts. Someone else was tying her legs to the bed posts at the other end of the bunk. She screamed and twisted, but couldn’t escape. “No!” she cried. “No!...NOOO!”

The men stopped momentarily. Her voice was surprisingly loud and powerful.

“GET…OFF…ME!” she bellowed. With more strength than she should have had, she jerked one arm free and then the other.

“Hold her down you idiots!” called Curly from across the room.

“I’m tryi…” began the man nearest her head until she interrupted him by grabbing his arm and yanking him down so hard that his knee snapped. He screamed at a higher pitch than she had as he thrashed on the floor helplessly.

Joszette broke free of the unfinished knots and threw off the ropes. She leapt from the bed and landed on the back of the man who was tying her legs. “YOU WANT TO HURT ME?” she screamed in his ear, as he tried to shake her off. She tore savagely at his neck with her teeth, and his cries intensified in volume and pitch.

Curly reached out with one big hand and wrenched her from the man’s back. She spun around just in time to take his melon sized fist square on the jaw.

Her head snapped back, and her red hazed world went completely black.

“Damn!” shouted Curly, looking around at the blood and broken men. “Oh shut up!” he said to the man with the broken leg.
“What the hell is wrong with people,”
he thought. Curly took a deep breath and sighed heavily. He walked outside and sat on the porch. “This day can’t get much worse,” he said to himself.

The sound of horses hooves made him look up.

Curly smiled a wide-faced grin as he watched thirty of the King’s Royal Guard on horseback surround the cottage and close in. He chuckled.

He didn’t even bother getting up. “Best day ever,” he muttered to himself, still smiling, as those in front dismounted and drew their swords.

(Present Day: 237 Cycles into the Light)

Kelly Turner, the Master of Swords, gazed at the floor as he considered the news. He paid no mind to the man and woman who stood before him.

Klaus and Vanessa waited impatiently near the servant’s entrance for some kind of reaction. Klaus wondered if they should just go. They delivered the message the Duchess had given Vanessa, and now he just wanted to get her away from this place. The capital city made him uncomfortable, even more that the Duke’s estate had.

“Well then,” said Kelly, looking up and directly into Klaus’s eyes. “There’s nothing else to do then is there…There’s no time to waste!”

Kelly rushed past his sister’s messenger and back into the great hall to deliver a very important message to the king.

Klaus took Vanessa’s arm and walked quickly with her back to the stables. “No rest for us my love,” he said as he helped her up into the saddle. “I won’t feel safe until we’ve put more miles between us and the evil back there.”

Vanessa sighed and stretched her back. She put on a brave smile for Klaus, but the truth was she was scared and tired. She didn’t really care where they went, just that they got there soon. She wasn’t used to riding, and her body ached. “Lead the way my love,” she said with a smile. “Take me to our new home.”

Saying those words out loud gave her energy, and as she watched Klaus mount his horse, she imagined him as a father, and her face reddened with happiness.

“What has gotten into you?” Klaus teased with a grin. He loved to see her happy, and the look on her face just now was pure joy.
“How did I get so lucky?”
he thought.

Neither of them understood just how unlikely a happy future outside the capital might be. Two armies were ravaging the kingdom unchecked as they left the relative safety of the city walls and headed south toward the sea.

Word of the Duke’s alliance with the rebels spread like wildfire. Stories of enormous and fierce rebel armies frightened the peasants and nobles alike. From all over the country they were pledging allegiance and joining the crown against a common enemy.

The King played his hand brilliantly by sending out messengers to sow fear and panic, and then a powerful message of hope and victory. The King’s own champion, the hero of Bloody Draw, Bloody Beach, and Hidden Valley was back to defeat the rebel horde once and for all.

As a man of the church, the priest-turned-king appreciated the romantic idea of a common man with a heroic destiny. He understood that a hero of the people would be more easily accepted by the masses, and his popularity would be more powerful than someone of noble birth. The King had his messengers embellish the stories and fan the flames of his legend to burn even hotter. The people were now chanting his name and praising the legendary champion whom most of them had never even seen.

When Kelly witnessed the King actually following his advice in these matters, he thought he might have a stroke. It was unbelievable how masterfully the King was setting up his own coup.
“If his champion was any other man this would be a masterful piece of puppetry; but instead, his champion is the one man in this kingdom with a legitimate claim to the very crown he wears on his pseudo-pious head.”

King Oglefurth called for his nobles to send all soldiers and arms to the capital. He had called for his generals and his champion as well. Word that their hero was coming to the capital set the city abuzz with excitement.

Kelly was interested to see how this would play out. There was no hiding the resemblance of Lynn and his late twin brother, Prince Thurmond.
“Would the king recognize the family resemblance and have him arrested? Would the kingdom survive a coup and a war in such close succession?”

In the next day or two, the rightful heir to the throne would ride into the capital city at the head of his battalion. The king was going to put him at the head of the entire Army, and then it would be up to God to decide whether the crown would be his that night, or a night soon after. Alternatively, he could be killed and all of his co-conspirators put to death as well.

Kelly’s smile began to fade.

(Present Day: 237 Cycles into the Light)

Guy felt terrible. He prayed the feeling would pass soon because he didn’t have much left in him. He couldn’t, could he? He had been in and out of the latrine all day and his rear was getting raw. “Slap your sister, just leave me alone!” he said out loud to whatever was upsetting his stomach. He was starting to really get angry.

“You alright over there son?” called the soldier using the next latrine over.

“No! I’m not alright!” he shouted. Guy wiped his rear furiously and pulled up his trousers as fast as he could. He was going to go mess that jerk up for getting in his business. He slammed the latrine door open and stormed out with a look of hatred on his face. A soldier waiting his turn stepped back a few feet, not quite sure what to make of the one legged devil emerging from the outhouse.

Guy grabbed the door of the next stall and yanked it open.

“Occupied,” said the old man sitting inside.

“OCCUPIED?” yelled Guy before he leapt into the latrine to pummel the man.

The latrines were not built for two people. They were simple wooden shacks, balanced on a raised hill over honey-buckets that were dug below and accessed from the rear.

Pushing his way inside, Guy tipped the latrine over backward. He and the old man went for a tumble, and when all was said and done, he was upside down, laying underneath a half-naked old man and covered in crap.

“Uh oh. Are you okay son?” asked the old man.

“How is he still so calm?”
Guy had no idea. He shook his head, or tried to and stopped when he realized his face was rubbing on the old man’s ass check. Somehow, the fall had taken the wind out of Guy’s sails and now he was just feeling stupid…and gross.

“I think it’s a good day for a bath,” said the old man with a chuckle.

Guy started laughing.

Pretty soon they were both laughing, and they didn’t stop until a few soldiers came over and helped them out.

“A bath is definitely in order,” said Guy. “Then I think I owe you a drink.” He slapped the old timer on the back and hobbled slowly back to his tent.

Guy was feeling much more relaxed and certainly cleaner when he walked out of the bath tent wearing only a towel and his boot. He gave instructions to the gentleman running the baths to burn his clothes. As he hobbled along, trying not to lose his towel, he noticed a large group of mounted soldiers entering the camp. He was just about to turn away when he noticed something peculiar. It looked like they had captives. There were several men tied to the backs of horses in the middle of the group.

His pulse started pounding faster when he realized who he was looking at. No doubt it was Curly and his gang. He felt his blood begin to boil and he began to hobble toward the group. He growled and gritted his teeth, and his field of vision started turning red. It wasn’t until his towel came loose and fell to the ground that he regained his senses and forced himself to turn away.
“What the hell is wrong with me?”
he thought again. It was a recurring thought these days. He took a few deep breaths and began walking to his tent. He would deal with that bastard soon enough. Right now he owed somebody a drink.

He cursed as he realized he was naked and turned around to retrieve his towel. He heard some laughter and a few whistles as he re-tied the towel around his waist.

“Slap your sister…”

(Present Day: 237 Cycles into the Light)

Colonel Hayes stood in front of the pirate Curly and his crew. His Executive Officer, Captain Corvis Brente, and his Battle Captain, Major Chase Martin, stood behind him. To the left, standing on one good leg and one made of wood and leather, was former pirate captive and slave, Guy Martin. Behind Curly and each of his crew there stood a large soldier with an axe.

A clerk read the charges against the accused. When he was done, the Colonel gave a nod and each of the murderous criminals was pulled by a rope at the neck, straight down to a butcher block. The soldier behind Curly struggled to force the big man down. He heaved on the rope, but Curly jerked his head up at the last minute and the soldier fell to the ground.

Leaping to his feet, Curly charged straight at the man who he had been chasing after the past few weeks.

“Oh damn,” whispered Guy as he saw Curly break free. Pulling his knife free from his belt, he crouched and stood ready for the crushing weight of the big man to hit him. Curly’s hands were still tied behind his back, but he barreled toward Guy at surprising speed.

Suddenly Curly’s trajectory changed and he was driven face first into the dirt. Corvis had tackled him from the side and forced him to the ground as only another big man could. Soldiers took hold and escorted Curly back to the block.

“I should have let you die, you worthless cripple!” Curly shouted. “I saved your life!”

Guy said nothing in response. He just looked Curly in the eye and spit.
“I’m not giving you the satisfaction,”
he thought.

Without further order, and without further delay, the axemen began chopping off heads. Some took several blows to finish the deed. Curly, for example, took five hard blows to the neck before his head was finally liberated from his shoulders. Perhaps it was the experience of the man swinging the axe, or perhaps it was the fact that the axe used was the dullest axe in the camp. Whatever the case, it was a brutal death; not quick and not painless.

That suited Guy just fine.

The Sergeant Major gave the order for camp to be struck, and the men got to work. Every man moved with purpose and every chest swelled with pride. The battalion was marching to the capital and on to war. This grizzly bit of business was just a taste of what lay ahead for the men of Colonel Hayes’ battalion, and every one of them welcomed it.

In the commander’s quarters, a woman slept soundly under soft blankets after a hot bath and some food. Charity sat next to her, still in disbelief that she was actually here, and alive. She softly stroked Joszettes dark hair, thankful for this miracle.

When Joszette was brought to camp she would not or could not speak. It wasn’t until she saw Charity and held out her arms to her that either of them seemed to reconnect to the world. At first no words were spoken, just tears and silent hugs. Charity apologized over and over, and Joszette just held her close and kissed away her tears.

Lynn felt that something was different about them both, but neither would tell him anything about what had happened since he last saw them. He decided to be patient, and let them tell him in their own time.

In the meantime, he had a campaign to organize and a war to win…two perhaps.

“Colonel,” said Chase as he helped pack up the command post. “I’ve noticed you’re growing a beard. Is it to conceal your identity, or to ensure you don’t have any more children?”

Lynn picked up a book and threw it at him. Chase laughed and caught the book. “Seriously though, it will muffle your voice. The men in the back might not be able to hear your next amazing speech.”

The next book hit him in the back of the head when he wasn’t looking.