Heart's Revenge [On Hold]

Ch. 7: A Place of Peace

Two days of riding later, and Naqam was certain he would never walk the same again. The insides of his thighs, his calves and his back were throbbing masses of pain. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so sore.

Hatter, on the other hand, seemed to have no problems. This frustrated Naqam greatly, considering that, compared to him, Hatter was practically an old man.

He had caught the Real Worlder grinning when he'd gotten up the second morning from his bed on the ground, and all but staggered into a nearby aspen. When Naqam had scowled at him and forced his legs to support his weight, Hatter innocently asked, "Feeling all right?"

Naqam had answered with a silent and rather rude gesture, which had just made the Real Worlder laugh again.

It was now the middle of the second day, and Naqam just wanted the trip to be over. It had been a long time since he'd been this miserable. The fact that a man he'd despised from the time he was old enough to talk was his only company compounded the misery substantially.

Thankfully, Hatter was not a chatty individual. In fact, Naqam had barely managed to pull five words from the man after their initial confrontation, and those words had only been to correct him when he was doing something wrong with the horse.

He grimaced as the mare — a word Hatter had taught him — bobbed her head, breaking into a choppy gait to catch up to the black beast. The insides of his thighs throbbed, hot and painful, irritated with every step the horse took.

Naqam startled when Hatter snapped, "Rein her in. Otherwise she'll take off on you."

"You said she wouldn't," Naqam grumbled, copying Hatter as the man demonstrated what he meant by rein her in.

Hatter smiled and Naqam frowned. The expression was content and happy, rather than sarcastic or cruel. He ducked a branch and Hatter said, "She can smell home. All horses want to return home, no matter where home is. Dell will take off with you as soon as she catches scent of the rest of the herd. Unless you stay in control."

Naqam tightened his fingers around the reins, his pinkies bent a little awkwardly under the leather strap, his other three fingers curled over the top, just as Hatter had shown him.

He stiffened when both horses' heads came up, and watched as Mad tightened his own reins. He spoke low, those nonsense words making both horses calm down slightly.

"We're here," Hatter said, and there was something like relief in his voice.

Naqam looked at the man curiously, but his attention was soon diverted as they crested a small ridge. Hatter stopped his horse, taking a moment to gaze out over his empire. The Ace had no choice but to do the same.

A green, lush valley was cradled in the arms of several low, rolling hills. A river rolled slowly past on the east side of the valley. Dark pines blanketed the hills, marching down to a modest house built of logs, the wind sighing softly through their boughs. Standing apart from the house, all the trees cleared away from it, was a much bigger structure of slat wood, with over-large doors and an area that had been circled off with sturdy fencing nearby.

Naqam's gaze wandered over this place of peace, something inside of him growing still and silent. He hadn't realized there had been something so agitated within him until it stopped moving.

The fields were sectioned by fences, and inside most of the sections were two or three horses of every color.

Hatter took off his hat and scrubbed a hand through that despicably dark hair and said, "This place is not a place for fighting. Or for bloodshed. It's sacred ground, with waters that can wash the blood from your hands and winds that can blow the stains off your soul. Do you understand what I'm saying, Naqam?"