The Sanctuary

CHAPTER FOUR

He was coming to. I watched him warily from the corner of the dusty prison room, my eyes focused on his collapsed form. I had studied nearly everything I could about him, as well as I could in the dim light the torch was giving off. He was a strong man, muscular and lean. He seemed like a well-trained soldier.

His dark hair and chiseled features made me think of higher birth; a duke’s son, or a wealthy merchant. The armour I had pulled off of him was of top quality material.

I coughed awkwardly into the silence. I had been waiting for the man to wake up for the last twelve hours after a Rider called Edward had knocked the man over the head so hard that I begun to doubt if the Farsay would ever wake up.

A low moan came from the figure.

“You’re awake.”

And suddenly the man was on his feet in a flash, rushing towards me.

I scrambled to my feet but then blinked as the man came crashing to the floor, face full of dirt. He looked behind him, his expression aghast as he stared down at the heavy iron chain around his ankle.

For good measure, Edward had said.

I let my breath out slowly, the sound hissing rather loudly through the air. The Riders had found Kat and I in the clearing, once I had securely tied up and blindfolded the struggling prisoner.  They were quick to raise their swords against the Farsay, and I had found myself in the odd position of protecting the soldier from the wrath of the Riders.

“He’s Farsay filth!” A Rider exclaimed.

“She completely compromised our position!”

“He will discover our location!”

“We have to kill him!”

Jonrick had stood by, staring at me with wide eyes as if not believing that it was actually me. Finally he joined the argument with a strong, “Let Madame Widow decide the fate of this Farsay.”

I had looked at him with gratefulness, but he had avoided eye contact. As if I had wronged him.

Trying not to think of Jonrick, I gave the Farsay a look of death which he did not catch as his eyes were still focused on the ankle chain that kept his left foot anchored to the ground.

I had not a single clue discerning if my decision had been right or wrong. But I knew it in my gut that this man was important. He knew something about our enemy that could be useful. He could even act as ransom. The possibilities were endless.

That did not delude me to the fact that the Riders did not think too kindly of me at the moment. I had brought the enemy to our home. I had betrayed my people in their eyes.

Jonrick had given me the task of watching the prisoner, with strict instructions to notify the Riders when he had finally woken up for interrogations. I had tried to explain to him why I had captured the Farsay, why I believed he would be important to our cause. Jonrick didn’t want to listen. There was blood on his fingers that he kept rubbing away, an almost dead look in his eye. He didn’t look the same anymore.

And again, I was reminded that this was a time of war.

The man groaned, with what sounded like a swear word softly coming from his collapsed form.

“Who are you?” I asked, my voice cracking a bit in the silence.                

The man looked up at me. A familiar expression spread over his features that I recognized, the same expression he gave me when I had taken the knife away from him.