With his head close to the ground, he moved cautiously, so absorbed in his task that he forgot about the entire world. Ages passed, he thought, before he reached the circle of light given off by the fire. He stopped suddenly and raised his head, startled by a deep voice that broke through the indistinct chatter and said, “That goddam kid’s tough’s nails, though, ain’t ’e?”

Iskald held his breath and did not dare to move even a muscle. He fixed his eyes on Cisil. The sadistic keeper stood before the fire which, as Iskald now noted, was surrounded by twenty or so of the familiar Nekryan guards. The young Duke noticed Tetoy sitting in the back, the same guard that had left him with a deformed heel.

He spotted horses some distance away, grazing at the edge of the forest, and cursed under his breath. How could he have been so stupid? Of course the Nekryans had horses, and since it was not difficult to guess that Iskald headed across the plains, it was easy for his pursuers to arrive here before him. The young Duke would give anything right now to be able to retreat back to the safety of the forest and to run, to keep running forever.

He dared not stir, however, in fear that one of the guards would spot him. They were not more than twenty paces away. He lay hidden behind a small bush, deep in knee-high grass and just beyond the reach of light. With a quiet sigh of relief, Iskald thought that had Cisil not spoken when he did, he would probably have crawled right into the circle of guards, so focused he was on his task.

“Tough or not, we’ll get him and then I’m gonna break his neck!” Iskald recognized Tetoy’s voice now. “It’s cause of him we’re stuck here in the middle of nowhere, just a step away from those damned Chenschung diablos! Those slimy maggots might yet turn us into an overcooked meal! I, for one, got better things to do at night!”

“You’re just worried that dumb whore of yours is getting it from Isla right now,” someone said.

The Nekryans chuckled and someone else added, “Yeah,” someone else added. “It makes no difference to her who’s going at her, ’s long as she’s on her back with her legs up!”

“We all had a run at her!”

Iskald could see Tetoy rise and clench his massive fists. He was not given a chance to respond to the vulgar insults, because Cisil spoke up again. “Sit yor ass down!” he said. “Isla ain’t payin’ us to talk of ho’s al night; he’s payin’ us to bring that damn kid back!”

Tetoy shrugged, but sat back in his spot. Cisil commanded a great deal of respect among his men. They had seen him kill hundreds of slaves in a variety of different ways, some of them so sickening that the keepers themselves had to turn away. They were not about to pick a fight with him; not even Tetoy, especially since Cisil was the only man Isla trusted and listened to.

“I’m not so sure we will catch him,” one of the guards spoke from above the fire. “I’ve never seen this kid, but someone who can get away from under Cisil’s guard, someone like that ain’t to be taken lightly.”

Cisil looked at the man with a menacing spark in his good eye. “He wasn’t under my guard, dammit! So shut yo’ trap, b’for I shut it for ya! We’ll git ’im if he gits here, but he ain’t ever gittin’ here!”

“How’s that?”

“My dogs wil git ’im out in the plain and rip ’im to pieces. Itty, bitty, pieces, heh, heh, heh!” Iskald nearly smiled when he heard Cisil’s hoarse chuckle and thought back to the two giant beasts he had left lifeless on the plains.

“So why are we even here?” Tetoy spoke up again, shaking his head.

Cisil shrugged his shoulders and his face was again distorted by what was probably meant to be a smile.

“Cause I sid so, that’s why!” he laughed. “I needed some fresh air, ’n I figured ya’ll could use some, too! B’sides, it gives Isla a chance to mess with yor ho!”

The whole group broke into laughter, while Tetoy’s face flushed with anger. He snapped something back at Cisil and the conversation turned something that was of no interest to the young Duke. It was so vulgar and repulsive at the same time that Iskald wished even more that he could somehow leave. But he still did not dare move at all and even barely dared to breathe.

He could only imagine what would happen to him if one of the had Nekryans spotted him. A wave of cold sweat came over his body at the very thought of Tetoy leaning over him with one of those thick clubs he liked so much, a malicious smile plastered to his face. Iskald shook his head to rid himself of the unpleasant memory, then opened his eyes again. Some of the Nekryans had already gone to sleep; he guessed that the rest of them would soon follow. That was when he would retreat back to the forest.

It was still a long time, though, before Cisil rose and looked up at the sky. “That’s ’nough’f all that!” he said. “We best git some sleep. Might have a tough day t’morrow. Kid’s tough as nails...”

Iskald’s entire body ached by the time the Nekryans wrapped themselves in their blankets and went to sleep, leaving the fire unguarded. The young Duke thought it was extremely careless of them to do so. Tetoy had mentioned something about Chenschungs, whoever they were. The fire was noticeable for some distance even in the forest; if Iskald spotted it, so could they.

It was none of his concern, though. In fact, he wished the Nekryans would be captured and end up in the man-eaters’ pots. So he only shrugged, waited some more time and then slowly and carefully he rose to his feet.

“Fools!” he whispered to himself as he took the first step back into the safety of the dark forest. Just then, however, a thought occurred to him that made him halt and glance back at the men sleeping around the fire. He could see Cisil from where he stood, sleeping some distance away from the other guards, just beyond the reach of light, on the opposite side of the dying fire.

Iskald fought hard to resist the sudden temptation to walk over and sink a blade into the man’s heart. All the memories came flooding back. The beatings, the torture, the pain, the long years of hoping for and dreaming of revenge; through it all Iskald could see the repulsively deformed face of the primitive Nekryan.

If he left now, he might never get a chance to pay the man back for all the things he had done to him and to so many others. Cisil would probably escape even if Iskald found people who would listen to him and if he somehow exposed Isla. Cisil would escape because the gods did not care to punish vermin like him. Shira had escaped punishment, and Cisil would too, and it would not be right if he did.

Iskald often acted on things before thinking them through carefully; he owed this trait to his impulsive father. It took the young Duke only three quiet leaps and then he was standing over the man he hated, peering into his repulsive and distorted features.

Careful not to let his shadow fall on the sleeping guard’s face, Iskald quietly sank to the ground beside Cisil. The moon remained hidden by the dark forest canopy and only the dim light of the dying fire illuminated the camp.

The young Duke looked for the handle of a large hunting knife that peered from behind the Nekryan’s belt. Iskald remembered this knife very well; Cisil used it once to sever all ten fingers of a young boy whose only fault was that he was too tired to keep hacking away at the wall of the mine in search of the precious ore.

After doing the bloody deed, the guard threw the boy in a cell and locked him for three days. When the door was finally opened the boy was dead; maybe he had bled to death, maybe he had starved, or maybe he had just died because he could no longer endure his life.

Iskald held his breath and reached for the wooden handle of the knife. He touched the leather belt, his fingers crept up and then he had it in his hands. Cisil sighed in his sleep at this very moment and turned onto his other side, brushing Iskald’s hand away at the same time. The young Duke instinctively pulled his arm back, but did not dare run.

He held his breath again and fixed his eyes on Cisil’s deformed face. The guard’s half-opened eye spotted Iskald. The haziness disappeared immediately and was replaced by surprise, anger and confusion. Then eye opened completely. The scars covering Cisil’s face moved at the same time and Iskald guessed that the guard was about to open his misshapen mouth.

The young Duke panicked and froze, but only for a moment. Then he grasped the man’s thinning hair, pulled his head hard up, and delivered two quick blows to the side of his head with a clenched fist. A violent shudder went through Cisil’s body, he jerked once and twice and then his head dropped to his chest.

As Iskald was about to breathe with relief, he heard a faint rustle off to his side and caught a glimpse of something glittering in the dim light of the fire and approaching him with lightening speed. With snake-like quickness, Iskald twisted his upper body and moved back, instinctively avoiding a deadly strike.

In the next moment, he seized his attacker by the wrists, stopping him from delivering another blow. He pulled the man down to the ground and lifted his knee at the same time, wedging it savagely in his groin and then colliding his forehead with the man’s face. Blood gushed out of Tetoy’s broken nose and the keeper staggered back with a painful moan, lowering his hands to where Iskald’s hard knee landed.

The youth wasted no time. Snatching the knife from the ground where it lay after Tetoy dropped it, he drove it with all his might it into the Nekryan’s throat. The man sank to the ground, desperately trying to pull the long knife with a stunned look on his face and blood spurting out of a torn artery.

The remaining Nekryans, woken by the sounds of the scuffle, scrambled to their feet in the meantime and surrounded the men screaming and cursing. Iskald acted without hesitation: he pulled the knife out of Tetoy’s ripped throat and then pulled Cisil’s limp body up to use it as a shield. He pulled Cisil’s head back and pressed the blade against the man’s exposed throat. The Nekryans were about to rush him when he halted them with a commanding voice.

“Stop!” he cried as he stepped behind Cisil. “Stop or I’ll cut his throat!”

The Nekryans stopped reluctantly just a few paces away from the knife-wielding Iskald, and one of them stepped up even closer, close enough for the young Duke to smell the wine on the man’s breath.

“Let him go!” the guard barked, but Iskald only shook his head.

“Let him go and we won’t be so hard on you!” the man approached even closer.

“Right,” Iskald smirked and took a few steps back, dragging Cisil along.

“We can rush you right now, you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” he took one more step towards the forest. “That may be, but if one of you moves a muscle I’ll slit Cisil’s throat and you’ll be the ones explaining his death to that fat toad Isla.”

He was almost at the edge of the forest now, but the fuming Nekryans were stealing along with him and they still stood only a few steps away.

“Let me go and I won’t hurt him! I’ll take him with me, and when I’m convinced you’re not following me, I’ll cut him loose!”

The keeper who spoke to him before simply shrugged his shoulders and dismissed the idea with hoarse laughter.

“Why would we let you go if we can kill you right now?” he sneered.

“If you don’t let me go, I’ll kill Cisil,” Iskald’s voice remained calm. He pressed the blade harder against the skin on the Nekryan’s throat, until a drop of blood appeared beneath it. The guard before him did not even blink. Then he glanced at Tetoy’s stiff body that lay just a few paces away. He looked back at Iskald, then took a step back and whispered something to the other guards.

Iskald was now so close to the trees that all he had to do was take one more step and he would disappear. He waited patiently, though, because the Nekryans did not once let him out of their sight during their hushed debate.

Finally, the guard who talked to him before turned back to Iskald. “We’re all in a hell of a fix here,” he said.

The young Duke agreed with him eagerly, but did not budge.

“Fine,” the Nekryan growled. “You can go, but you only got till sunrise, then we’re coming after you.”

“Can I trust you?”

“You don’t have much choice, kid! Either you take us up on the offer, or we’ll say our good-byes to Cisil and kill you right now.”

“Fine, till sunrise it is.”

“Good,” the Nekryan said. “So put him down and go to hell!”

“Right,” Iskald laughed heartily. “I’ll put him down and you’ll cut me in half! No, thanks, I’m taking him with me!”

“We’ll chase you down twice as fast then!”

“That’s my problem, you let me worry about that!”

“Fine,” the guard shrugged. “But you’ll cut him loose later?”

“I will.”

“You got till sunrise then.”

The Nekryan turned his back to Iskald ending the conversation and the young Duke wasted no time. Demonstrating a great deal of strength he firmly grasped Cisil’s massive, lifeless body, heaved it up and placed it firmly onto his shoulders. Then he disappeared in the thicket. What he did not see was that several Nekryans immediately wanted to follow him with bare swords in their hands, eager to catch him and kill him. But their leader stopped them.

“Let him go!” he said.

“We want his blood!” they hollered.

Proceed to part 4...

Copyright © 2008 by Slawomir Rapala