Free the Darkness (King's Dark Tidings Book 1) (34 page)

Rezkin scouted the area thoroughly before he allowed anyone
to relax and bathe in the creek. Still, he insisted the women stay together
when they went to bathe around a slight bend where the men could not see. The
sour looks with which each of the women graced him were ineffectual. Rezkin did
not like the idea of leaving the women alone at all, but at least if they were
together, they could watch each other’s backs. When he threatened to stand
guard over them while they bathed, they finally relented; although, for some
reason it seemed as if both of them contemplated the option just a bit too long
for propriety’s sake.

Rezkin tended the horses while Tam and Jimson started a
small fire and prepared the meal. After watering the beasts, he poured cool
water over their nearly steaming flesh and brushed their coats to a glossy
shine. Leaving the beasts to graze and nap in the shade of the trees, he
decided he would take the opportunity to clean himself and some of his clothes.
He retrieved a cake of soap and drying cloth from his pack and walked the short
distance to the creek where he immediately stripped off his clothes and armor.

The women had gone a short distance upstream around a small
bend, so Rezkin was not concerned that he would see something he should not.
The cool water of the creek felt incredible on his heated skin. He walked to
the center where the water was deepest, and still, it only rose to just above
his hips. He washed his hair and scrubbed the sweat and grit from his skin,
rinsing away several sweltering day’s worth of grime.

Rezkin had just risen out of the water after rinsing away
the soap when he heard a piercing scream followed by a large splash. His
muscles tensed, and his eyes darted upstream in the direction of the sound.
Just at the curve of the bend were two figures flailing in the water. He
quickly made his way to shallower water and then charged ahead as fast as his
feet would take him.

Reaylin and Frisha had bathed in silence, neither woman
caring to breach the ice that had formed between them. Reaylin made it a point
to finish first, just so she could get under Frisha’s skin.

“Are you finished, yet?” she huffed. “By the time we get
back, all of the food will be gone. Ugh! I can’t believe I have to wait on
you.”

Frisha rolled her eyes. “Perhaps if you spent a little more
time bathing it would start to wash away some of that grime that’s stuck in
your personality,” she retorted.

Reaylin scowled and replied, “At least
I
have a
personality. You’re just one among thousands…just like all the rest.”

Frisha tugged on a fresh tunic and pants over her clean
undergarments. She strapped on the wide leather belt Rezkin had procured to
carry her throwing knives. Each knife had a tiny sheath hidden on the inside of
the belt. The belt covered her entire midsection from hips to ribs like a
corset, ensuring that the knives could not be seen. The leather was soft, and
the knives were positioned at a slight forward angle so that she could still
bend and easily access the weapons. Some of the hilts pointed down so she could
draw them from below and others pointed up. The leather had been tooled with an
intricate pattern of leaves and vines and stained a rich mahogany. Overall, the
look was beautiful when worn over her tunic and breeches. It would not go so
well with a gown.

Frisha had been surprised when Rezkin had presented the belt
to her after they left one of the villages in which they had stayed the night.
She knew an item of this nature would have to be custom made, and he would have
had to pay a handsome fee to have it finished before they left.

Frisha began to wonder how much money Rezkin really had and where
he got it. She and Tam had concluded that Rezkin probably had very little to
his name. Frisha truly hoped he was not spending everything he had on her. She
worried, now, that Rezkin might think he had to buy her love to try to keep her
from marrying a noble.

After gathering the wet clothes they had washed in the
creek, the two young women began walking along the bank back toward camp. When
they came around the bend, both women’s forward motion came to an abrupt halt.
Frisha thought it had to be the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.

Thick, cut muscles curved around a graceful, fluid form. The
warrior turned slightly away, and she could just barely make out the slight dip
between the muscular cheeks of his backside peaking above the water. His silky
black main, now wet, clung to ridged muscles flexing beneath, and rivulets of
water ran down the dips and valleys of his back. The warrior turned toward them
as he scrubbed at his other side and she could make out a light dusting of
black curls across his chest that trailed a line down his carved, taut abdomen
to the water. Muscles clenched and rolled as he contorted about in his
ministrations, and his pale skin shone in the sun like the personification of a
god carved in alabaster.

Frisha was mesmerized. Reaylin was, as well. Neither girl
could take her eyes off the sight until Reaylin opened her mouth. “Now, that’s
something worth fighting for,” the self-proclaimed warrior declared.

Frisha scowled over at her. “You stay away from him. He’s
not yours.”

Reaylin laughed, “He’s not yours, yet. Until you are
married, he is free game.” The girl laughed again and said, “Actually, a man
like that never really belongs to one woman. He could get any woman he wants,
whether he marries or not. Do you really think he’ll be satisfied with just
you
?”
Reaylin gave Frisha a disdainful look that told Frisha exactly what Reaylin
thought of her.

Frisha screamed and launched herself at Reaylin. Reaylin was
completely unprepared for the sudden violence emanating from the pretty little
pretentious prat and lost her balance. Both women tumbled into the creek but
their anger and animosity toward one another did not abate. Somehow, whether it
was the circumstances leading to the fight, the mind-numbing rage, or basic
female nature, neither girl remembered to employ any of the fighting techniques
they had learned. The confrontation devolved into a brawl of slapping,
scratching and hair pulling. Reaylin got one good shot at Frisha, socking her
in the eye. Frisha scored deep gouges that stretched nearly from Reaylin’s jaw
to collar bone.

When Rezkin arrived at the scene of the disturbance, two of
his traveling companions were engaged in a vicious…
What do I call this?
Fight? Battle?
It was the strangest fighting technique he had ever seen.
The women were like two wild animals scratching and ripping at each other’s
hair. One tangled limb, he wasn’t sure whose, appeared to have teeth marks.

“What is going on here?” he shouted above the snarls and
shrieks.

Both women froze instantly. When their eyes landed on
Rezkin, they gaped but said nothing. They were still wrapped about each other
with their hands tangled in blonde and brown strands.

Frisha’s mouth worked without sound a few times before she
was finally able to speak. “You’re naked!”

Rezkin looked at her quizzically and then scowled. “Of
course I am. I was washing. I do not bathe in my clothes.” He simply held his
ground unashamedly as he eyed them both. “It does not look like either of you
are bathing.”

Both girls flushed and began disentangling themselves. Once
all of their fingers and limbs were separated they pushed apart to stand a few
feet from each other.  Neither woman would look him in the eye as if they
were ashamed to be caught fighting like animals half submerged in the creek.
Neither could seem to keep their eyes off of him, either. They kept glancing
his way, each time flushing a darker red.

Rezkin heard the thrashing through the bushes and knew Tam
and Lieutenant Jimson had heard the commotion as well. When the two men arrived,
they barely noted the women except to see their presence in the water and the
fact that they both appeared to be injured and bleeding. Tam stood gaping in
shock while Jimson’s face contorted in anger.

“Rezkin!” he barked. He slid his hand over the hilt of his
sword and said, “What do you think you are doing? How dare you intrude on these
women while they are bathing and expose yourself. If you touched a hair on
either of their heads, I will beat you down even if it kills me!”

 Rezkin gaped at the lieutenant. “What are you talking
about? I did not…”

“I do not want to hear it! Not until you put some clothes
on. Go!” the lieutenant shouted. There was no doubt that this was an order from
an army officer.

For some reason, Rezkin felt anger creeping into his mind,
and it was directed at the lieutenant. Nothing about this situation should have
incited the emotion. No one had been killed or injured…well, beyond a few
scratches and what looked to be turning into a black eye.

The angry warrior stepped into the lieutenant’s personal
space so that their bodies were nearly touching. He was so close, the
lieutenant could not possibly hope to draw his sword. Rezkin gazed over the
lieutenant’s shoulder as he spoke into the soldier’s ear so quietly the others
could not hear, including Tam who stood only a few feet away gaping like a fish
on dry land.

“Make no mistake, Lieutenant Jimson. Even naked and unarmed
I could kill you in seconds. Do not underestimate me. You are my
friend
,
but if you ever issue that challenge, I
will
end you. Next time, it
would be in your best interest to gather the facts before you make assumptions
and accusations.”

Rezkin stepped around the lieutenant and walked back down
the bank to retrieve his clothes and other belongings. He decided he needed
time away from the group to think and calm himself. Rezkin was frustrated. He
did not know why he had become angered with the lieutenant. The man had done
and said nothing overtly threatening toward him. He had issued a warning, which
was on the surface reasonable enough. If he
had
attacked the women, he
would have expected the lieutenant to defend their honor and at least attempt
to kill him. It could not have been what the lieutenant said, then.

The warrior mulled over the question for quite some time
before he finally thought he understood. It was the assumption and accusation,
Rezkin realized. He was angry that the lieutenant thought he would actually
attempt to harm the women for no reason or simply to satisfy his base needs.

Rezkin’s only experience being intimate with a woman had
started out pleasant enough but had ended abruptly when the woman attempted to
kill him. He knew, however, what men did with women. Having never been around
women until he left the fortress several weeks ago, he had not really
considered the experience. Too many other events were happening, and he had to
adjust at an uncomfortable rate to the outworld. Allowing himself to be open
and vulnerable to another person for any length of time was more than he could
force upon himself at this time. He understood that the intimacy was not really
necessary
unless he wanted to procreate, so the whole subject had not
even crossed his mind.

The thoughts brought Rezkin back to the source of his anger.
Rezkin was not a selfish or cruel man. He killed and destroyed when he had to
or when the masters ordered it; but he trusted that if they gave him an order,
they had good reason to do so. He did not enjoy killing, but neither did it
trouble him. He truly had no feelings about it at all.

To attack the women at the creek, though, would have been
cruel and unnecessary. Rezkin was angry that the lieutenant, who he had been
traveling with day and night for several weeks, actually believed Rezkin could
do something like that. He was angry that his
friend
would question his
devotion to the
Rules
,
Rule 1
in particular. Most of all, he was
angry because he cared what the lieutenant thought of him, and that was a new
sensation.

Rezkin had never cared what anyone thought of him before
– not
him
, as a person. The only people he had known before cared
only that he learned the
Rules
and
Skills
and acted without
emotion. So long as he was not cruel or weak, they did not care what he thought
or felt. As far as he knew, no one had ever judged him based on anything other
than his adherence to the
Rules
, and those men had trusted him to admit
when he had broken any of them. It was a matter of honor and respect. Rezkin
was angry because if the lieutenant thought those things of him, then what must
the others think?

When Rezkin rejoined the group, he said nothing and avoided
looking at the lieutenant all together. He had tried to distance himself from
the emotion, but he was afraid that if he looked at the man he would feel
inclined to kill him – or at least damage him severely, and that would
violate
Rules 1, 37
, and
188
…and possibly
2
, but he was
still uncertain as to the meaning of that one.

Rezkin was confused by his own emotions. He could not
remember a time when he had been angry with anyone other than himself. Every
injury and damage anyone had inflicted upon him in the fortress, even the
outright torture, had been for a reason – for training. Even the bandits
he could excuse because, well, they were bandits. That was what bandits did.
Somehow this felt different.

The young warrior saddled his horse in silence and then
rummaged around in his saddlebags. He kept certain supplies in them for easy
access while traveling rather than having to dig in the depths of his endless
pack. He retrieved a few packets of herbs, clean swatches of fabric, and a jar
of ointment. Next, he used a small metal cup to boil water and then placed the
herbs in the water to steep. Finally, he soaked the rag in the water and then
wrapped the herbs in the fabric to make an herbal compress.