Redeemed

Ch. 32

Nourse picked up my sword and dagger, tying the sword to Kynthelig's saddle and placing the dagger in a saddle bag. Any hope that Kynthelig would act out and start kicking was quickly dashed as he patiently allowed Nourse to finish his task. Not that I was going to put up a fight. There was not a chance I could defeat Nourse, even if I had been on the ground armed with a sword, and I didn't need more scars added to me.

If I was going to die, then at least I didn't want to feel any more pain than necessary.

Nourse stroked Kynthelig's neck before facing me. Walking toward the rope that held me up, he addressed me in a calm, quiet, though still commanding, voice.

"I am going to let you down slowly. It would be wise of you to not fight back or attempt to run. If you do -" he paused as his gaze met my dead, hopeless eyes, taking in the dried blood on my face, the defeated set of my shoulders. There was no fight in me, and he knew it. "What happened to you?" he breathed. Was that shock in his voice?

Not that I cared. As Marduk's right-hand-man, he shouldn't be surprised to see how traitors are treated.

With a quiet snick, Nourse cut the rope. I tensed, waiting for the ground to rush at me, but Nourse had grabbed the end of the pulley and was letting me down slowly, allowing me to sink onto my hands and knees. I stayed in that position, with my face looking at the ground, while Nourse slipped the loop off of my foot. He would bind my wrists next. In response, my wrists started throbbing in memory of the last time they were bound together.

Nourse's brown boots appeared in front of me. He crouched down. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see my hands imprisoned once again, but the rough feeling of rope never came.

"Thea, look at me." Against my better judgement, I raised my head, staring at the brown eyes that had taught and hurt so much. I waited for the rage and anger to burn through me, for my fighting spirit to rise up and attack. There would not be a better time.

But nothing came.

And perhaps even more alarming, I didn't care that I felt nothing. I simply accepted it.

We stared at each other for several long seconds, former master and pupil, before Nourse sniffed loudly. "You stink worse than a stable not cleaned for a week," he said, striding away. "Come, there is a stream where you can wash yourself close to here." He whistled for Kynthelig, the same whistle I did to call him. Pricking up his ears and letting out a low nicker, my horse followed my former teacher, leaving me to catch up.

It would be so easy to run, to simply mount Kynthelig and dash away. Even my weapons were there. Even as the thought of escape crossed my mind, my feet continued to plod on heavily, following my fate. What would be the point? I would just get captured again, or worse, betrayed. It was better to accept my circumstances.

Part of me wondered if I was dreaming, if the blood had rushed to my head when I fell into that trap, and now I was imagining everything. That would explain why Nourse didn't tie me up, how he controlled Kynthelig, and how he was now leading me to water.

Sure enough, the sound of a shallow yet rushing stream reached my ears. It lay at the bottom of the small hill, its clear water gurgling over the rocks.

"Here's a bar of soap," said Nourse, reaching into the bag on his shoulder and handing me a white block. "I know it doesn't smell as nice as what you are used to, but it will get the dirt off. I will lay out fresh clothes for you, as well." With those words, he walked away, Kynthleig following.

He would probably monitor the bath from the hillside to make sure I didn't run away. Not that I was planning to run.

Looking at the water, I blinked, realizing that I actually had a choice. I could take a bath, wash away the stench of the past week, or I could walk away, embrace what I had become. Though Nourse had given me this bar of soap and led me to this water, he had not commanded that I take a bath. Even that small choice, that hint of freedom, awoke something inside.