Redeemed

Ch. 13b

"Peace, Micas," the front rider admonished, holding up a hand. He must be the leader of this group. "We are merely seeking information about a certain individual. We were planning on stopping at Marnsk before heading west over the Avery."

"You are awfully far from your lands and your base, soldiers of the Prince," Nourse replied, keeping his voice level, his face neutral. I raised my eyebrows. How had he known? There was nothing marking these people as the Prince's soldiers. Then again, as a former guard to the Prince, Nourse probably knew what various soldiers in the Prince's army wore.

"Please, we do not wish to fight you," the lead rider continued, confirming Nourse's claim. "The matter we are looking into does not concern the war. Please, we are merely fulfilling a civic duty. Surely you could be sympathetic?"

"Fine. I will hear your questions." Nourse instructed Marcus and me to stay where we were before trotting his horse over. I raised my eyebrows at Marcus.

"What do you think this is about?" I asked. He frowned.

"Don't know. However, I do not trust these people. They are too far into Marduk's territory. We had best be ready to assist if matters go south." As if to confirm Marcus's suspicions, raised voices met our ears, and one of the soldiers - Micas - drew his sword and attacked Nourse. Instantly, Marcus was galloping across the divide, sword held high in the air and a look of rage distorting his usually easy-going face. It was terrifying to behold.

I spurred my mount on a moment later, also drawing my sword. With a yell, I entered the fray. Nourse had already unseated one of the fighters, sending the horse running with a slap on the rump. That left four. I went to help Marcus, who was defending himself against fighters on either side of him. Seeing my approach, one of the riders split off to face me. The lead rider.

As he neared, his eyes widened, his sword falling to his side. "Wait, you're -"

I didn't give him a chance to finish his statement before driving my sword into his chest. The surprised look stayed on his face as he fell, never to rise again. Before I could process what I had done, I continued on my way to help Nourse and Marcus. Nourse had managed to take out another attacker, but the one he was currently fencing with was proving to be tough. This would be my chance to prove to Nourse that I could take care of myself.

I entered the fray, taking turns with Nourse to attack. To our left, Marcus finished off his opponent with a mighty swipe, turning to help us. Seeing his last comrade fall, the soldier we were facing turned and fled. I started to chase after only to have Nourse hold out an arm to stop me.

"Watch," he instructed. Marcus, his face still contorted in rage, took out his bow and calmly lined up an arrow, as if he were spotting a deer. With a deep breath, he pulled the string back and let the arrow fly, making a direct hit into the back of the soldier, who slumped off his horse. I still had a long way to go with my archery skills.

With the battle over, my pulse slowed, and tiredness swept through me. I looked down at the carnage. Instantly, my stomach was in my throat. Blood was everywhere, soaking the grass and mud in puddles like rain. The faces of the soldiers all had slightly different expressions, though all were frozen with an image of pain, eyes and mouths open. I swallowed back the bile in my throat, not wishing to be sick in front of the others, to appear weak.

And then I saw the face of the man I had killed.

Unlike the others, his face showed only surprise. He wasn't surprised by me stabbing him, no, that emotion appeared on his face at the sight of me. What had he been going to say before I killed him? It was almost as if he recognized me, but that wouldn't make sense. I didn't know him, of that I was sure. He was not from Tosach.

Signs of middle-age showed on his face, from the tips of gray in his black beard and temples to the start of wrinkles on his forehead and cheeks. He would have been around Dad's age, if Dad were still alive.

Dad.

This man very well could have been a father. He could have a wife. A family with children expecting to see him again. What had I done?

No longer able to suppress my nausea, I vomited over the side of my horse. Marcus came over and rubbed my back. It was surprisingly gentle.

"Sorry," I coughed, spitting, "the smell got to me." I saw Nourse's eyes narrow, as if he did not quite buy my reason, before he ordered us to move out.

"We will have to shorten our trip once again," he said, looking over at me. "Marduk needs to know of this."

"What about the bodies? Are we really just going to leave them here for wild animals?"

"They're our enemy," spat out Marcus before Nourse could respond. His face was twisted once again. "They deserve exactly what happened to them." Shock ran through me at Marcus's tone. Never before had I seen him lose control of his temper. What had happened to him to make him hate the Prince so much? I knew that he grew up in the Prince's city of Ara with Nourse, and obviously something made both of them leave and come here. Whatever it was, it must have been bad.

We set out at a quick pace. Though I longed to ask Marcus about his reaction, I did not wish to ignite his temper again. He rode with tense shoulders, the reins tight in his hands, which forced his horse to flick his ears back and shake his head. Maybe after he had calmed down.

We reached the Keep just as dinner was being served. Nourse instructed us to go get food and to take the evening off before striding to the mansion. Some time later, as I was eating my dinner, I saw a messenger hawk go out. Nourse must have sent a letter to Marduk.

Exhausted from the day's activities, I took a quick bath and went to bed early, determined to forget about the troubles I had faced.

Instead, the man's face, stuck in an eternal look of surprise, appeared every time I closed my eyes.

I sat up, clutching my head. What was happening to me? That battle had not been the first time I had hurt another person in battle. How many bandits had Shay and I driven off? How many had had to be carted away by Marice to be cared for?

But even with all of the skirmishes I had fought in, never before had I so directly taken a life. Hurt them? Yes. Scare them? Yes. Severely wound them? Yes. But I had always, if they were not strong enough to run away on their own, tended to their wounds before Marice took them away. Of course, not every person walked out of Marice's house, and I knew that, but it had never bothered me.

There was one time Shay had killed a man outright. She had shot an arrow, aiming for the arm. Instead, the man ducked, trying to dodge, and instead took the hit directly through the skull. Shay had been a mess for weeks, and after that incident, she always aimed for the legs. I had thought she was going soft, that her heart was too tender. Now I wondered...

I stayed up the rest of the night, tossing and turning, and always having that face, the face of a father, flash behind my eyes.