Hers to Choose (20 page)

Eric made his way steadily across an unforgiving landscape of
hard-scrabble rock and twisted vegetation. His eyes constantly scanned the terrain for either any glimpse of the band of mercenaries who had kidnapped Sophi or some sign of
Oshtesh
presence. Day and night, darkness and light, passed as he pressed forward in mindless, obstinate pursuit.

On the fourth night, a
barely perceptible flicker of light where none should be alerted him to the presence of others. Eric dismounted in a copse of skeletal trees and left his now exhausted horse in the concealment to rest. Eric snorted softly.
Poor fellow. Too tired to shift from this place, even untied.
Pulling his sword from the scabbard, he approached the tiny, smokeless fire from downwind, skirting a small mound of boulders for concealment. He placed each foot with exquisite care. If the camp was hostile, he needed the element of surprise. It took him many anxious minutes to cover a short distance. Peering over the rock cover, he exhaled a silent prayer of thanks.
Oshtesh.

Four
Oshtesh
men blended so well into the rock they would have been invisible but for their fire. Their quiet murmurs fell softly into the pre-dawn air as they ate and drank. He rose slowly from the rock that concealed him. They saw him, immediately.

Eric hailed them, cautiously. “
Hello, the camp. I’m–” He felt a crushing blow to his head and then nothing else.

* * *

Eric lay on his belly across his horse. His arms were tied in front of him and joined to his bound legs with a rope run under the horse’s belly. A foul rag packed his mouth. He labored for air as they trotted along. A vicious, unmerciful pounding filled his skull.

“We should have just killed the traitorous dog.” A guttural voice sounded to his right. “
He’s wearing a Verdantian military uniform. He must be part of that traitorous merc band that passed through here. You should let me stake him out for the sand cats to play with.”

A male voice from his left answered. “We are taking him to the
Primus
. Let him interrogate the scum. He might have valuable information.”

“I suppose you are right, but I
’d still rather just kill him,” the guttural voice complained.

“You can kill him when the
Primus
is through with him.”

Eric fought an upwelling of nausea brought on by the jolting horse and his pounding head.
I cannot get to the Primus fast enough.

Consciousness came and went. Eric had no idea how long he had been bound to the horse, but he came to rather abruptly as his body slammed to the ground in a precipitous descent.

“Drag him off to the side, Derrick. I’ll tell the
Primus
we are back. See what he wants done with him.”

Eric bit back a groan as his bound hands were jerked up and his body roughly dragged
out of the common area by the dangling ends of the now-cut rope which had bound him to his own horse. Opening his eyes a slit, he could see bustling camp activity through the legs of one of the
Oshtesh
fighters guarding him. As he watched, a horse’s legs filled his vision and stopped.

A female voice called out
, “Klaran, Derrick, Garis, look who we found wandering the desert.”

I know that voice. Adonia. That is Adonia.
Surely she would see him lying there and identify him to the soldiers who’d captured him. Two sets of legs, too slender for men, appeared as their owners dismounted from the horse.

The guttural voice that Eric identified as the man who wanted him tied out for the sand cats responded. “Well, I don’t believe it. Weren’t you supposed to be in Sylvan Mintoth by now, Sophi?”

“Yes, Derrick, but things got
...
twisted. I need to speak with the
Primus
.”

Sophi
! How in the name of the Goddess!
He struggled to sit upright, shouting behind his gag.

A
stunning blow struck his head.
No! No!
A foot spiked viciously into his gut. With a grunt of pain, he curled around it and finished his slide to oblivion.

* * *

He woke as dawn sent filtered light into the
Oshtesh
camp. He couldn’t feel his hands or feet and his mouth tasted as if the rotting carcass of a dead carrion crow stuffed it.
Sophi.
Had he really heard her voice last night or had it just been the product of too many blows to the head? His head—at this point he’d almost welcome death if it stopped the pounding.
Goddess, what a mess.
He desperately prayed the
Primus
wanted to ‘interrogate’ him before ‘Derrick’ and company killed him. He couldn’t hope Mother Verdantia would repeat herself and revive him a second time. This time he’d probably stay dead. Rough hands cut the rope that bound his legs, then jerked him to his feet. He promptly collapsed back to the earth.

“Stand up, you whore-son, the
Primus
wants to see you.”

Thanks be to the Goddess.
Again careless hands jerked him to his feet. This time he managed to stay on them. Half stumbling, half dragged, Eric followed the
Oshtesh
guerilla fighter across the camp toward a figure he recognized—the
Primus
. Unless his eyes tricked him now, Eric had heard aright the night before. .
Primus
G’hed spoke with Sophi! He was only feet from Sophi.
Sophi! Sophi, look this way!
Only unintelligible grunts sounded through his gag. He tried to stumble toward her. His captor shoved him to the ground with a warning. “Make any trouble for me, scum, and I’ll put you out again.”

He had no doubt his captor would enjoy
carrying out the threat at the slightest provocation from Eric. He watched Sophie, mere feet from him, in despondent resignation. He listened, disconsolate, as the
Primus
and Sophi spoke.

“We
have discussed this all night, my daughter. Nothing you have said has changed my mind. You will join Mother Lyre, child. It is important that we keep you safe.”
Primus
G’hed’s voice lectured Sophi. “Look, Adonia is here with your horse. She will ride with you to their camp. They are well hidden.”

Eric saw Adonia ride up, leading a saddled horse. Sophi was leaving.
Ah, Goddess, please let her look this way.
He lay in the dirt, wretched, desolate, and watched as Sophi mounted and leaned over to kiss
Primus
G’hed on the cheek.

“Take care,
stepfather. Please wait for High Lord DeTano or my brother. I know they are coming. I just know they are. Don’t try to take on Krakoll without them.”

The
Primus
took Sophi’s hand in his and kissed it. “
Her
blessings on you, child. Ride safely.”

Eric
lay crumpled awkwardly in the dirt, despairing, as the woman he loved, still believing him dead, turn her horse and rode away.
Ah, Sophi. So close, love.
The tails of Sophi and Adonia’s horses disappeared from his sight.

The Primus gruffly barked, “Bring your captive and let’s see what he knows.”

Again, rough hands pulled him to his feet and propelled him forward in a stumbling shuffle
.
A fist in his hair pulled his head back and jerked the rag from his mouth.

T
he
Primus
cried out, upon seeing his bare face. “This is not an enemy. This is Eric DeStroia, you fool!”
Primus
G’hed’s loud, scathing voice berated the man holding Eric upright.

Thank you, Goddess.
Don’t have to die today.
He tried to formulate words of thanks but his swollen tongue filled his mouth, immobilized by dryness; even his thoughts were thick and slow. He felt his hands freed. A thousand needles stabbed through them as circulation restored itself.

“
Get this man some water! Now! And send someone after Sophi.”

A water skin
appeared, raised to his mouth. The water was lukewarm and flavored with essence of goat-hide. He swallowed thirstily. Nothing had ever tasted more perfect. Evidently, he had underestimated the rejuvenating effects of tepid goatskin flavored water. Each swallow washed away more and more of his fatigue and mental stupor.

The stern brown eyes of
Primus
G’hed softened. “A little the worse for wear, but you look remarkably good for a dead man, Commander. From what my daughter told me, I had thought never to see you again.”

Sophie trotted her
horse into camp and halted before
Primus
G’hed. Eric drank in the sight of her until joy overwhelmed his parched soul. The
Primus
smiled at Sophi and with a gesture toward Eric, said, “Look.”

She turned slightly in confusion.
Like the sun breaks across the morning horizon—a slow hint of light growing into a brilliant radiance—so joy dawned across her face. She hurtled off her animal.

“Eric! Eric!”

“Sophi,
” he croaked.

H
e met her halfway in a head-long rush, wrapping her in a tremendous grip as she leaped into his arms. He barely kept his feet. The joy he felt at this very moment would fill him until death. All his bodily hurt vanished, erased by the miracle of holding Sophi.

Her sobbing cries of his name
joined with his murmurs of hers. Many, many moments passed before he allowed her feet to touch the ground, despite his exhaustion. His abused body simply would not obey his desire. Even upon being forced to set her down, he held her tightly, an arm around her shoulders, the other around her buttocks as he bathed in the glorious sensations of Sophi’s warm body pressed along his.

Her hands covered his face in wonder, touching, caressing, wandering over his chin, his eyes, his cheeks.
An inhaled hiss escaped him as she grazed over the bruises left by the heavy-handed Derrick. Incoherent, choked words streamed from her mouth as freely as the tears from her glorious, disbelieving eyes, resolving finally into “Dead. I thought you dead. How? How?”

He knew the same incredulous
amazement. “Are you hurt, Sophi? Who took you? How did you get away?”

His
eyes raked her form and his hands ran over her shoulders and down her arms as if she was a horse he checked for injury. Finding none, he ran his hands up her body to cup her face. He bent and pressed his forehead and nose against hers, inhaling the wonderful smell of her before once again pulling her in tightly to his chest. “By the Goddess, woman, you have no idea how I feared for you,” he whispered hoarsely.

Sophi arched back to hold him transfixed with tearful eyes. “You! You feared for
me
? I saw you
die
, Eric! I went out of my mind with grief!” She pulled out of his grasp, wiping her eyes and nose on her sleeve. “You owe me an explanation!”

“I don’t know that I have one you will believe,” he murmured. “
I wouldn’t believe it, in your place.” He glanced up at their observers. With a sniff and a long, shuddering inhale, Sophi turned to
Primus
G’hed.

“Stepfather, may we use your tent?” The
Primus
considered them for a long moment. With a small smile, he nodded. “You may have it as long as you like. You will not be disturbed.”

Unwilling to release her totally,
Eric held Sophi’s hand as she led him toward the small tent set well away from the main camp. Entering, Eric turned to her and grasped her other hand, holding both close to his chest. In the growing light of the half-dawn he could see what darkness had hidden—dark shadows under the glorious aqua eyes, sunken hollows beneath her high, sculptured cheekbones, scabs on her full mouth where her lips had dried and split.
There was never an abundance of you to begin with. What have you been through, my love?
“Shall I start?”

Sophi nodded, never taking her eyes from his.

“Simply put, Mother Verdantia healed my body and brought me back to life.”

Sophi frown
ed and shook her head. “I saw you die. Eric. I have seen enough dead things to recognize death when I see it.”

“
You would not have been wrong to think so,” Eric responded. “I died. I don’t know how long I lay on that forest floor, but when I regained consciousness, a dozen crossbow quarrels lay around me and I was very much alive.” He kissed the backs of her hands. “I don’t know how
She
did it. I was conscious in
Her
presence and
She
said, ‘The Power of the Two will serve me. Survive.’.” He shook his head, wondering yet again at the other-worldly results.