Chapter 2

The rest of the day she busied herself with chores, and tending to the preparation of the hides she had collected on her excursion. Those were her bread and butter, and without the valuable animal pelts, she would go penniless. He helped as he could around the place, and was generally useful, if not skilled. She found his powerful arms were excellent for stretching gut to prepare it for the making of bowstrings. He also did a little work on the cabin, fixing a few leaky spots in the mud patch that filled the gaps between the logs out of which it was constructed.

Her groin ached throughout the day, and she examined it when she relieved herself later, noting that it was slightly bruised and still gaped open slightly. Nadia shook her head at herself. "That man is too big for your tired little hole, woman," she chided herself as she lifted her pants and fastened them. As she walked back toward the hut she said, again to herself, "Then get used to it, because you are going to give yourself to him whenever he wishes, and you know it."

Luckily, he seemed only to be interested in making ready for the next day and the trip to Morrovale. He asked many questions about the village. How many people lived there? What was the local source for wealth? Who ruled there, and what were his policies? She answered as best she could, though she was not intimate with the politics of Morrovale, and she, quite honestly, could not name any of the barons, and only a few of the better-known knights in the service of the duke.

He laughed when she proposed that he might be one of the knights of this land. "Somehow, I doubt it, Nadia," said Gavin. "There is nothing familiar about these lands to me, and I think I would feel something." He looked around the clearing and toward the distant mountains to the east and north, blue with distance. "No. This is not my homeland," he said. Then he turned toward her. "Though I guess, given the hospitality it has shown me, I could easily forget to leave this fine land."

Nadia blushed richly and shyly looked toward the ground. Why am I acting as a girl at her first dance? she wondered. Had this man not already taken her twice and had she not given herself willingly to that?

The afternoon passed at a calm and sedate rate, moving toward the evening with a dignified grace that spoke of a soothing and relaxing period before bed. She finished her preparations for going to town and they even gathered up the few little things that he had taken as his own since he had arrived. She provided him a small sack into which they put all his new belongings. It was a depressingly small bundle.

Gavin sighed as he dumped the sack onto the bed. Two tunics, a pair of trousers, his pouch of papers, a small knife Nadia had given him which he had sharpened, and a half dozen pretty stones he had found around the clearing. He was unsure why he chose to keep those stones, but for some reason it felt right. Nadia walked up behind him and kissed his corded neck. "I know it looks grim, Gavin," she said.

He gave her a small, almost apologetic look, then glanced back to his paltry collection of treasures. "My possessions are like my mind," he said. "For I remember none of my past life, and have almost nothing to hold of it either."

Nadia turned him around with her hands on his shoulders. "Perhaps you are better for not having those memories," she said, remembering the skulls and the tattoo on his chest. "Did you think of that? You may have been a terrible person. One only knows you've the power for it." She eyed his massive arms and muscular chest.

"That thought had occurred to me," he said. "I wondered if I was a villain in my days." He sat upon the bed. "But I don't feel like a villain." His voice was almost an appeal. "Still, I feel I have done vile things at one time or another." He confessed this part, almost as if speaking to a minister of faith.

She touched his hair with her long fingers. "You were a knight, perhaps you had to do vile things in war?" she asked.

"Perhaps," said Gavin. "I hope such is the case." His eyes lifted to meet hers. "But, Nadia, what if it is not?"

A cold shiver ran up her spine and sent goose pimples down her arms and legs. What if he is not, she repeated into her own mind. "We will burn that bridge when we come to it," she said, grinning. It was one of her father's favorite lines, he used it when he faced tough decisions.

"A very appropriate answer," he said and chuckled. "Maybe, even if I find I was a cad in my past, I need not be one now, yes?"

She nodded eagerly. "True," she said.

Outside the little cabin, the sun had set and the night air was growing chill quickly. Gavin and Nadia quickly loaded up the small fireplace and stacked some wood beside it for the evening and retired within. As she slipped out of her clothes, Gavin smiled at her. "You are fantastic," he said.

She grinned back at him. "You're pretty amazing, yourself," she replied.

She laid beside him on the bed and they snuggled into one another. He made no moves to actually take her to him and she was actually glad of the respite for her abused body. He kissed her neck as she began to drowse and she smiled. "On the morrow, perhaps we will learn more," she whispered to him.

"I'm beginning to wonder if I want to know more," he murmured.

Her racing thoughts kept her from sleeping for some time after that, though he seemed to have released himself to slumber in the speaking of it. She eventually slept, but fitfully.

She was running through her wood. She recognized the landmarks that marked her allotted lands. She could hear her heart pounding fast and hard, and her breath sounded like ragged gasps.

Behind her were hooves, thundering on the soft loam of the woodland's floor.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw a dozen horsemen, all wearing plate armor, like Gavin had worn, with leering skull visors upon their helms. They were chasing her, and they were laughing.

It did not take long for them to overtake her, and ride her down, she stumbled and they shot past her, their horses wild-eyed with madness and fury, froth pouring from their mouths. She regained her feet, thinking to turn the other direction and gain a few feet of distance on them. But one had been hanging back and as she looked his way the long spike of a lance he carried impaled her through her gut. Through her it tore, rending the cloth of her tunic and piercing her. It lifted her from the ground and she found herself moving backward and then stopped suddenly with a flash of white overwhelming her vision.

The whiteness slowly dissipated and she found herself staring bemused at the mounted knight who had impaled her. He was laughing along with the others who were riding to sit beside their comrade and observe his victim. She was stuck to a tree, with the spear clean through and its head buried in the wood. The knight let the lance go and looked at her.

One clapped the knight who had impaled her on the shoulder. "You've speared the little slut well, Gavin," he yelled.

The one named Gavin raised his visor, revealing the beautiful face she had seen the last two days, but subtly changed. Malice and cruel intent marked this face and instead of beauty, she saw horror and vileness. He continued to laugh, his perfect features making his intentional abuse of her more cruel.

"Aye, I have, and I'll spear her again soon, perhaps daily," he said.

—

Nadia awoke with a start. Sweat was pouring from her brow and into her eyes, stinging her. She looked at the man sleeping peacefully beside her. His flawless face was unmarked by any emotion, except perhaps a secure peacefulness. Her heart was pounding in her chest as in the dream and her legs were wobbly. Rising form the bed, she went outside. It was still night, and she wondered what time. The icy breath of the north cooled her sweating body quickly and she soon found herself chilled.

Her eyes sought out the stars, and she wished she was one foresighted, and that she could read the enigmatic points of light for signals of her future. Then her eyes rested upon the form of the Huntress, a set of stars that formed a vague outline of a woman with a bow raised to fire. For many years now, that figure had been her role model, and she hoped that seeing her was a good omen. As she watched, a shooting star flew from the right of the Huntress, and seemed to pierce the heart of the figure, then faded into the sky.

Tears welled in her eyes. If that was not an omen, then what the hell was it? She looked back toward the hut, and thought of the small, powerful man within. The one she had given her father's name to. "You will not slay me, Gavin," she murmured. She vowed to find out what this man's story was, and quickly, upon reaching Morrovale. Slipping into the hut quietly, she dug his little leather pouch out of the sack and removed a few of the parchments from it. Those she stuffed into a belt pouch she would wear upon her hip.

Gavin shifted as she laid back down, moving toward her and touching her shoulder with his hand. She drew away from the touch and tried her best to not touch him, a difficult task given the size of the cot.

The morning found her embracing him again. At some point in the night, her silent little vigil to not touch him had broken down and she had his chest against hers and could feel his long organ resting on the inner thigh of her lower leg. He was not stiff, but was partially so. His warm breath on her neck felt good, and the huge arms holding her were comforting, even if they frightened her now.

She laid like that for a long moment, before trying to extricate herself from his embrace. He awoke as she lifted his muscular arm from her ribs. "Good morning, Nadia," he said softly.

She grinned. "Good morrow, Gavin," she replied. "You slept well?"

"Very," he said, nodding. "And you?"

"Me too," she lied, forcing a smile onto her face. He kissed her brow and she forced the smile to stay on her lips, though the kiss did not feel good, it felt condescending.

They rose quickly, deciding to start early and luncheon in Morrovale. As they left the cabin and he hefted her pack as if it weighed nothing, despite its densely packed furs and pelts and jerked meats, it weighed almost two thirds her own weight, she knew, but he lifted it with one arm and once it was on his broad back, he ignored it, walking lightly and he even had some bounce in his step as she followed him south and west.

At midday, they passed the first of the houses outlying Morrovale, and soon she stopped them as they came to a road. "My home is not far," she said. "I do not live in the town itself, for I cannot bear the thought of naught but a wall between me and my neighbors."

He nodded and when they came to a cottage fenced in by a low stone wall, he smiled. "This is your home?" he asked. The lot was not large, but was totally surrounded by apple orchards and fields of wheat. The trees had lost most of their leaves, and the wheat had been shorn, but he said, "It must have been lovely in the summertime."

Nadia nodded. "It is," she answered as she guided them through the wooden gate into the front courtyard. This home had been her mother's sister's home, and her uncle Omdall, had been something of an eccentric.

As they entered, Gavin whistled. The entry area opened onto a balcony overlooking a huge open area, built below the ground level, it looked to be bigger than the entire cottage that housed it. Light poured in through great panes of plated glass, imported from Ghant, and light filled the vast area. It was a common room, kitchen, dining area, and bedroom all in one. There were no walls, nor any other rooms, save a small privy to the left. "An amazing home," he said, finally, after a long appraisal.

"My uncle was a man who had odd tastes, but he was a excellent designer of things. He was an engineer in the service of the duke for thirty years," said Nadia.

Looking about, Gavin said, "It is impressive, and subtly beautiful." He commented turning about to regard the entire room. "How did you inherit it?"

She looked at him a long moment. "My aunt was barren, or my uncle was," She said. "In either case, they never had children. My brother was too young to inherit when they died. Also, my aunt and uncle partially raised me, along with Relkan, my hunting mentor."

He nodded and smiled. "I know more about your life than my own," he said. "And I am very glad to know your life, Nadia."

The laughing countenance of Gavin flashed across her vision and she winced. Gavin's eyes took on a worried look. "Are you well?" he asked. "You seemed a bit put out there for a moment."

She had hoped he had not seen the expression on her face, but obviously he had. "Just a sore muscle in my leg," she said. "Long walks do that to me sometimes."

There was the sound of a throat clearing. Both turned to see a young woman standing within the doorway. Nadia smiled. "This is Pamela, she is my - assistant - when I am in town.

The girl was only about thirteen, maybe fourteen. "Hello, sir," she said, smiling broadly. "I am hoping Nadia will take me as apprentice, and I will become the second huntress in Morrovale."

Gavin returned the girl's smile. "The more of those about, the gladder I shall be," he said, grinning at the girl.

She blushed deeply at him and looked toward Nadia. "Is there anything needed, ma'am?"

Nadia nodded and spoke to her for a few moments, handing her a number of copper and silver coins. The girl smiled at Gavin and bolted from the house. "Charming child," he said.

"I'm still not sure I wish to have an apprentice," said Nadia, watching the girl close the door. "But I need to decide soon, else she will be too old to become an apprentice."

"I would imagine it so," said Gavin. "You should ask yourself if the girl will be better off as a huntress or a farmer's wife."

Nadia looked at him a long moment, then said. "I've never thought about it that way before," she said. "I will apprentice her, then, for she will wither as a farmer's wife, I know that."

"And as a huntress, she will bloom?" ventured Gavin.

"I'm not sure of that," she said. "But she shall either prosper or she can always return to become a farmer's wife."

With a curt nod, she seemed to come to a final decision, then looked at him. "Your idea was based on the needs of the other person," she said. "I don't think you were a bad man. Ever."

She went upstairs and changed into more conservative attire, consisting of a long skirt under a blouse and vest. She refused to wear a bonnet, which was the current fashion in the village. No more than her ankles flashed as she walked and the skirt flowed around her legs. Gavin whistled appreciatively.

"You know, somehow, that looks more revealing than the leggings and short skirt," he said.

Nadia blushed slightly. "Does it then?" she asked. Spinning on one foot, sending the long skirt swirling around her like a flower. "I always thought it made my butt look large." She craned her neck around to peer at her own rump.

Gavin chuckled. "You're butt is magnificent," he said. "And no garment will be able to conceal that fact for long."

She blushed a little deeper and curtsied to him. "Thank you, Sir Gavin," she said, grinning.

"Do you really think I was a titled knight?" he asked.

Nadia shrugged. "I really cannot say," she replied. "But you were wearing what looked to be very expensive armor, and that sword," she pointed at the finely-crafted blade he wore on his belt, "is not a commoner's weapon."

Now ready to go into town, she led him out the door again. He once again hefted the massive backpack and tossed it on his back as if it were filled with feathers. Soon, they were plodding down the gravel road into Morrovale, and the houses were closer together and the yards smaller. They soon came to a gate, with men in purple and gold livery standing beside it on either side.

"Sir, your pardon, but that sword must be bound," one of the guards called upon seeing them approach.

Gavin nodded and held his arm up to allow the soldier to tie a thick leather thong to the crosspiece of the sword and around the scabbard. He then affixed a wax seal to the knot from a red candle. As he stood, he said, "Looks like a fine weapon, sir." Gavin simply nodded and smiled.

They walked on into the village and passed the stalls of the small daily market square. They then went into a large building with doors all across its front facade, forming a open chamber which displayed many types of pelts and skins. "The tanners," said Nadia.

Gavin stood back and watched for a moment, as Nadia greeted one of the men running the business. They spoke a bit, then she came to him. "This will take a while, and is uninteresting work," she said, handing him a silver coin. "Go, buy yourself some luncheon, look around."

He grinned, realizing he had just been dismissed for the nonce, and meandered off in the direction of something he could smell cooking. She watched him walk off, and also noted the gazes of the ladies he passed, often as they turned to watch him proceed down the street.

She returned to her haggling and soon she and the merchant had struck a deal, pelts were exchanged and money given to her. The Pierced Boar was her destination after that transaction, and she entered the tavern with a wide smile.

Tammer was his usual self, occupying his post behind the bar and serving the few midday patrons. He called out, "Nadia!" as she entered the doorway and told her to take a stool, he would be right with her.

She sat in the proffered spot and dug into her belt pouch, pulling forth the three parchments she had taken from Gavin's bag. She unfolded them and laid them on the bar before her.

After just a short delay, Tammer came up to her with a fresh mug of mead, her drink of choice. "Well, huntress Nadia, I see you've survived another long trek in the wilds."

She smiled and nodded. "As always," she replied. "Tell me, wise Tammer, do you recognize this script?" She slid the papers toward him and he peered down at them.

He looked at the topmost for a long moment, then lifted it to look at the second. He sat it back down after a brief look. "Where did you get these?" he asked, his face was blank, a poker face, she realized.

"In the woods, on my allotment," she said, trying to keep her own face neutral.

He looked down at them again. "It's elven," said Tammer. "But it's not Windir elven," he added.

She blinked. "Then Starre Island elven?" she asked.

His head shook a single negative motion. "It's darkspeech," he said. "Elven usurped by the Black Theocracy, as they believed by speaking elven they would gain the powers and abilities of elvenkind. I won't pretend to be able to read it, but I do know the look of it."

"You're sure of this?" she asked.

"As I am of most things," replied Tammer, eyeing the documents again. "It is darkspeech, or I'm going dotty."

"Despite your age," said Nadia, "I believe you are the undottiest person in Morrovale. If you say it is darkspeech, then it is." Her face showed something, and Tammer must have picked up on it.

"You're not telling me everyting, Nadia," he said quietly. "Where did you get these?"

She looked at the bar, then at Tammer. "A man I am with was carrying them," she said. "He was injured in the wood, it was a head injury, he cannot remember his past."

Tammer looked at her a long moment. "You're certain it is no act?" he said.

She nodded. "I am pretty sure, he's not slipped up even once if it is," said Nadia.

He gave her a glum look. "Then I recommend you send him on his way soonest you can," said Tammer. "Else there will be trouble from it, mark my word."

Nadia turned a wry look upon him. "It would figure, that I finally find a man I can stomach and he's a villain," she said.

Tammer patted her hand gently. "I am sorry, my dear." se said, "but if he is a servant of a Black Templar, or, One forbid, a Black Templar himself, then you want him far from here if his memory returns, assuming it's lost."

She nodded morosely. "Of course, you're right, Tammer," said Nadia. She took a very large pull of her mead. "I just feel rotten turning him out."

"You'll feel more rotten if you bring down the wrath of a Dark Templar on Morrovale," retorted Tammer. "Trust me girl, if you don't wish this to return to haunt you, then get him away from here, and gone. Even if it hurts.

She finished her mead in one long swallow and stood up, leaving three copper coins on the bar. "Sage advice always comes with a price," she said, her mouth twisting up at the corners. "Usually one that cannot be measured in coin." She strode from the tavern and back onto the sunlit street. With a few quick questions around she found Gavin at a street vendor's stall, stuffing brotwurst into his mouth. He grinned up at her, with chunks of sourkraut hanging from his lips.

"This man is a Black Templar?" she asked herself below her breath. She shook her head and went to his side. "Enjoying yourself are you?" she asked.

He smiled after he swallowed a massive mouthful of sausage. "Indeed," he said as she held up two fingers to the vendor, who immediately began preparing her own brotwurst and kraut. "I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I got a good nose full of these brotwursts."

She laughed, but it felt forced to her own ears. "Well, we can go back to my house soon," she said. "I've finished my business here."

He nodded. "I was hoping that I might find someone here who could help me, a healer or some such," he said.

She visibly blanched at that idea. "I don't know, Gavin," she said, trying to come up with a plausible excuse. "Such services are beyond my meager means," she finally said.

"I understand, I don't wish to impose upon you any more than I already have," he said, his tone sounding somewhat defeated.

She kissed his brow. "Look on the bright side," she said. "You don't have any bad memories of your past, either."

Gavin smiled at that. "This is true," he said, watching her devour two sausages and a plate full of kraut in a single breath, it seemed. She looked up from her plate. "We will see what can be done tomorrow," she said. "I will be coming into town to take care of some purchases and such."

"Very well," he said, though his eyes were still worried-looking.

The sun was low over the fired-clay roofs of the village homes and businesses, and most of the shops were closing up. There was a tolling of the bell at the chapel at the far side of the square for evening mass. She rose from her seat. "Do you pray to the One?" she asked, amazed that she had not before.

"I don't know, Nadia," he said. "Is it something most people do?"

"Well, most men and halflings do," she said, nodding. "But you're half-elven, so I wouldn't know. Would you like to escort me to the mass?"

"I would escort you anywhere you like, you're a fine trophy for any man's arm," he said, holding out his own arm.

She beamed as envious looks came from many quarters from women who finally realized the beautiful and muscular newcomer was spoken for, at least for now. They walked across the square and joined the crowd flowing through the four large doorways into the chapel.

A young girl in blue robes ushered them to a pew where they sat between two giggling teenage girls and an elderly couple. The girls seemed fascinated by Gavin, and Nadia could not blame them. She kept her arm possessively on his. The ceremony for evening mass was short, as always. A prayer and a hymn from the choir followed by a reading of the Book of the One. Then the pastor would speak on current issues for a moment that concerned the flock and the duchy, as a sort of mass communication of matters. He then would offer a last prayer and the donation plates would be passed about.

Nadia placed three silver coins in the plate, which had only copper in it when they received it. She gave generously to the church, as the church had been the only source of food for many a night after her parents had died.

As they were leaving, the pastor plucked them out of the flow of the people. "Nadia," he said. "It is good to see you in church, dear." He had a very kind, if somewhat pudgy face, and was widely recognized as one of the finest pastors around. "And you bring a guest." He looked toward Gavin, then his eyes widened. "You're a half elf." His mouth turned up with a wide smile, and he bowed slightly. "Blessed are the elven, the angels among us."