New Story: Part 4

She let Peyton ride the stallion home while she led him with the reins. He walked patiently, grunting and bobbing his head occasionally as the boy swung his legs excitedly. She decided to lead Cadence through the forest, observing how he reacted to brush noise and critters of the undergrowth, making mental notes where she’d need to train and adapt him to life on the road. He seemed spirited, but not jumpy in the least. Already she could feel her own spirits lifting as they walked lazily through the forest.

The hairs on the back of Jael’s neck stood without warning, and she abruptly led Cadence to a halt. He waited, tail swishing, as Jael listened to the world and what it was trying to tell her.

“Jay, what is – ”

She silenced him curtly, honing her ears ahead of them. A low whistle sounded from behind a thick tree trunk.

“Traveling alone, miss?”

He was tall, but slight in build. His grey-streaked hair hung stringy to his shoulders, appearing as though it had never seen a basin of water. His face was shadowed with bristle, and when he smiled, she observed that his teeth were rotting. He stood crookedly, shifting his weight to the right, and a quick glance told her he was favoring an injured ankle. He hooked his thumbs into his belt, though she knew in his right hand a dagger was hiding in his shirtsleeve.

“Let us pass, stranger.” She responded. “There are no spoils for you here.”

“Nice horse.” His eyes remained glued to her face, his crooked half-smile irritating her more by the second. She led Cadence a few steps toward him boldly, leaving him unable to hide his surprise.

“I said let us pass. There’s nothing for you here.”

“Yea, I heard you, miss.” He reached up brazenly and toyed with a lock of her short hair. She slapped his hand away and found herself with a dagger pointed to her throat.

“Jay!” Peyton wailed from atop the horse.

“Peace, lad,” the road-thief barked, glaring up at the boy. “Ye wouldn’t want –”

Before he could breathe another word, she’d back-slashed his forearm with her own dagger, then followed through with  a sound right hook to his face that sent him sprawling over the forest floor. On a loud cry, she set Cadence to a run, slapping his rump sharply. “Get home, Peyton!” She instructed, wheeling to stand over the man, her dagger pointed squarely between his eyes.   

“Shall I say it again, thief? Move along – there is nothing for you here.”

He nodded in response, still in shock from what he’d just encountered. She straightened and stepped to the side of him, then turned slightly and thrust her heel to the side of his head, rendering him unconscious. She checked to make sure he still breathed, rolled him to his side, then set out jogging in the direction she’d sent the boy.

Jael slowed to a walk as she approached the inn, spotting Peyton sitting at the front steps.  His breathing was slow and his head was buried in his arms.

“Peyton.”

He startled, looking up towards her, then jumped to his feet to embrace her. She lifted him easily and carried him to the stables, stroking his back reassuringly as his little body shook. She set him down on a stack of hay, braced her hands on either side of his body to look him square in the eye. Wet trails parted the dirt that had built upon his face, and she reached up to dry his eyes.

“How does the horse ride?”

“Good,” he answered in a small voice, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his tunic.

“Were you afraid back there?”

“A little,” he admitted in a small voice. She waited for him to say more, but he merely averted his eyes, which surprised Jael.

“What’s on your mind, lad?”

“You’re a good fighter,” he blurted without thinking. He bit his lip, unsure of how she’d respond. She sighed heavily.

“I’ve had to be, Peyton. It’s necessary for a traveler.”

“Would you teach me to fight like that?”

She straightened, held his chin firmly between her fingers so as not to break eye contact. “I don’t fight because I  like it, son, or even because I’m good at it. I fight to stay alive on the road.” She released his chin. 

 “Do you understand the difference?”

“Aye.” He looked at her, waiting. Finally he said, “You don’t like fighting, even when you win.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. He understood.

“No, little one. I wish I never had to fight.” She unsheathed her dagger, handing it to him gingerly. “I wish these blades had never tasted flesh. I wish I didn’t know what it feels like to kill someone, even when they deserve it.” She took the dagger back and drove it home, leaning down again to meet him eye-to-eye. “I wish, most of all, that you never have to wish these things. Hey?”

“Aye.” He looked deep into her eyes, understanding more than any boy of nine seasons should. In a gesture that comforted her, he placed his small hand on her cheek and let it rest there. She held it, then kissed the dirty palm of his hand, as she’d done ever since he was an infant.

“Now, show me to my horse.”