The Reader

Chapter Five - The Prisoner

Chapter Five.

Her hand was soft in his, her grip tender. They walked along the side of a river, on a bank thinly carpeted with new spring grass that brushed Merric's bare feet as gently as a feather. To his left was a sea of trees alive with birdcalls. He couldn't recognize any, which disconcerted him slightly.

To the right was his companion. Sunlight reflecting off the sluggish water framed her in a white halo, dancing across her marble-like skin and picking up golden highlights in the hair that fell over her face, obscuring it from view. A satiny black dress clung to her figure and Merric couldn't help but run an appreciative gaze over her curves.

Only once he'd looked his fill did he once more turn his attention to his surroundings. As far as the eye could see there were trees. They covered the ground which rolled lazily upward into low hills. The river they were following flowed from a gap between two of the highest knolls, which seemed to be where Merric and the mystery woman were heading.

Their pace was as slow as the river beside them, languid and idle as if they had all the time in the world and no place special to get to in a hurry. It was a nice change from the rigors of marching and guard-duty back at the Fort.

Merric stopped suddenly. The Fort! How did he get here? The last thing he remembered was ... was what? A frown creased his brow as he grappled for memories that didn't seem to be there anymore. They slipped through his fingers like sand, gone before he truly got a look at them. Ghostly, broken images of a galloping horse, the whistle of arrows and a feeling like he was flying were all he could hold onto. It was like looking through a grimy spyglass, the details were hazy.

A tug at his hand interrupted his thoughts. His companion was pulling at his hand, urging him to keep walking. Her grip had tightened from the tender, almost loving grasp it had been before to something more urgent, insistent. Merric looked up, but her face was turned away.

"Where are we going?" he asked, surprised to find his tongue thick and unresponsive. The words came out in a drunken slur. Experimentally he rotated his jaw, but it was reluctant to co-operate. He raised his free hand and touched it; feeling puffy skin like it was swollen. But for some reason it didn't hurt.

The woman didn't answer his question, she only kept tugging. Merric dug his heels in and refused to obey her. Panic was beginning to flare in his chest. Where was he?

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me who you are," he said to her, trying to keep his voice calm.

She stopped trying to get him to move and dropped his hand. Her shoulders hunched and shook like she was crying. Despite his instincts screaming at him to turn and run, run as far away from her as he could get, Merric took a tentative step and touched her elbow.

She whirled. Merric caught a glimpse of icy blue eyes and stumbled backwards, shock coursing through his system. He made to run, but she darted a leg out quick as a striking snake, tripping him. Merric hit the ground on all fours and tried to scramble to the river. If he could leap into the water, he could swim for the other side and escape. But a pair of hands grabbed him and, with inhuman strength, threw him onto his back.

She stood over him, legs splayed on either side of his ribcage. He looked up and saw her framed by sunlight, but it was no longer a halo. Now it was something twisted, something evil. The smirk on her beautiful face only confirmed it.

"Stubborn," she growled, fists bunched. Merric's eyes widened in shock as his memories came slamming back. The wagon, Tom's bleeding throat, the men crushed by poles. Everything.

"No," he breathed.

"You know what's most fun about dealing with stubborn people?" she asked, mocking him with the familiar words.