The Warrior

Chapter seven

         Warrior Chapter seven


         The army marched at a steady pace, much slower than a single rider could manage, but nevertheless impressive considering the majority of the soldiers were on foot. Marissa rode with Rodrick Camden, Kay’s second in command, who explained the intricate pecking order in the ranks. She was surprised to see that there were goats and other farm animals being herded along. Rodrick explained that they were important to feed the army, though a lot of hunting was done underway, and much was purchased from farms they passed. Marissa liked the older man, and he was happy to have an interested listener to his stories, so time passed quickly and before long Kay returned, and asked Rodrick to take the lead. Rodrick smiled and nodded to them both before riding on ahead.
         Marissa noticed that the soldiers they rode next to turned stone faced and serious at the sight of Kay, though they seemed friendly and open toward Rodrick. She was puzzled about this transformation, and eager to learn more about the man riding in silence next to her. Though he didn’t speak, it was a companionable silence, so she didn’t think he would mind a few questions.
         “Kay?”
         “Yes?”
         “Why are the men frightened of you?”
         “What, you don’t find me frightening?”
         “Not really, no.”
         “But then, you’ve never seen me take a life.” Marissa pondered this for a while, but it still made no sense to her.
         “The men here are soldiers, surely they have killed themselves?”
         “Yes. But I am very good at it. It´s a gift.” Kay´s voice was sarcastic, and with a rough edge to it, defying the half joking grin he sent her.
         “Sounds like a strange gift.”
         “Not so strange. From what I hear, your father has it too.”
         “Ignar’s touch?”
         “You know of it?”
         “Not really, but I heard the servants whisper about it when I was little. I asked my father what it was, but he wouldn’t talk about it.”
         “It´s not a subject suitable for children. Or grown-ups for that matter. It is not common, but it is a gift bestowed on a few men in their first life-to-death fight. Some get it stronger than others. Mine is… formidable.”
         “But what is it? My father would never tell, and the servants didn’t know more than to fear it.”
         “It has many names. “Ignar’s touch” is the most usual. “The kiss of death” is another. Your father was right not to discuss it with you, it is not something we often speak of.”
         “We?”
         “Warriors of Ignar.”
         “The Dark God. My father followed him too, though he never spoke to me about his religion. Why so much secrecy?”
         “It’s not so much secrecy as highly personal. We don’t have temples, priests or books teaching us the correct way to worship, we find our own way. In fact, those of us touched by Ignar never had a choice in who to follow. Ignar chose me the day he granted me his “gift”.” Kay’s voice was calm, without a trace of bitterness, yet Marissa sensed it buried deep beneath the accepting façade.”
         “But Lagoe chose me too, all my life she has whispered to my soul.”
         “Yes, but you can still choose to refuse her call. Your “Year of Silence” is about making sure this choice is right for you, is it not?”
         “Yes…”
         “I never had that choice. It was stripped form me the day I killed a man simply by looking at him.”
         “Wh… what?”
         “Yes, that is my glorious “gift”. In the heat of battle when blood flows on the ground and enemies intent on my death surround me, I can cause lethal wounds simply by fixing my enemy with my gaze. Most that have been touched by Ignar can only cause minor wounds, enough to draw blood and gain an advantage through the element of surprise. My gift is stronger than that. A lot stronger.” He laughed, and this time there was no mistaking the bitterness in his voice. “Now do you fear me?”
         Unable to grasp the enormity of his revelation, Marissa couldn’t find the words to express her feelings toward him. She did fear him, but more than that she feared for him, and her heart ached with pity and a need to comfort and protect him against his obvious pain and bitterness. Kay, taking her silence as confirmation, turned his horse and rode away, without a word, leaving her alone and more confused than ever.



         Riding to the head of the column, Kay felt the curious stares of the soldiers he passed, though all avoided his glare when he turned toward them. He took a deep breath, trying to keep the growl of frustration from escaping. He’d never backed down from a confrontation in his life, yet here he was, running like a frightened child rather than face fear and loathing in Marissa’s eyes.
         As if to echo his thoughts, the page Robbie came into view. The boy looked miserable, leading a mare with a death grip on the reins, shoulders hunched and head held low, trying to avoid the eyes of all around him. The mare responded to the boy’s nervousness by jumping at every sound and sudden movement. Kay heaved a sigh. He couldn’t ignore his responsibility to the page any longer. A familiar feeling settled in his body, a bone aching tiredness resounding in his very soul. For a few, sweet hours, Marissa’s presence had eased and soothed, him, but now the darkness was back, heavier than ever before. For a moment he couldn’t breathe, the ground beneath the horse’s hooves seeming impossibly far away, at the bottom of a black void he was about to plunge headlong into. That was his life without Marissa. The thought came to him out of nowhere, grabbed hold and blossomed into certainty in the blink of an eye.
         Black spots danced in front of his eyes, so he reigned in his horse, closed his eyes firmly and focused on breathing. Calm, deep breaths, in and out, and slowly the tension eased out of him. In its place came a calm acceptance of the inevitable. Marissa was his, it was meant to be. Now he recognized the signs, they had been there from the start. His strong reaction to her, the chemistry between them, his acceptance of the compromising situation they found themselves in, it all lead to the same conclusion, yet he could barely bring himself to think it, for fear that it could not be so. But what else could it mean? He was not in the habit of sleeping with strangers, not even beautiful strangers laying in his bed. And she an innocent, yet so responsive to his touch…
         The followers of Ignar had no books of worship, no temples or priests. What they did have were the stories of lore, passed down from one generation to the next, told around campfires the day before battle, whispered through the constricted throats of dying men the day after battle. The stories told of the sacrifices made by the warriors of Ignar, of suffering, pain, blood and death, all in the name of a god who chose his followers only to abandon them to their fate. And yet, in the oldest stories, stories buried deep inside other stories, hinting at lore long lost and forgotten, there was mention of something more. Something so rare, it was all but lost. A Warrior’s mate. The reward given to a true Warrior of Ignar, a woman to fill the void in his soul, a mate to bring him out of the darkness, and into the light.
         Many years ago, Ignar touched him and granted him the gift of death. Now, suddenly, he felt the dark god’s touch yet again, tearing through his body. No gentle caress from the god of war, but a searing pain, burning heat, gnawing hunger and parched thirst. His body convulsed, his horse panicked and threw him yet the impact with the ground barely registered. Voices called, he heard them, knew they belonged to strangers who would follow his orders yet not care if he lived or died. Fire consumed him, the strain on his mind was too much, he feared it would shatter and leave him lost in the darkness. Alone in the chaotic storm. But… he was not alone. There was a presence there, a presence that gathered his entire focus and held it in an unbreakable grip. A soft voice beckoning, a soft touch caressing. Marissa.
         Kay opened his eyes, and found himself laying on the ground surrounded by soldiers, staring at him with a mixture of fear and awe. Sitting next to him was Marissa, wide eyed and worried, tears running down her face yet not a sound escaping her lips. He reached up and caressed her cheek, gently wiping the wetness from her skin. She didn’t flinch at his touch, but rather leaned into it, closing her eyes and drawing a shuddering breath. The moment froze in time, Kay wanted it to go on forever, yet all too soon her eyes opened again and the moment was lost. She smiled down at him, he shoulders sagging in relief.
         “I thought… I was afraid…” Marissa’s voice was small and fragile, but she took a deep breath and was able to continue. “I was afraid you’d never come out of it.”
         “I’m sorry I frightened you.” Kay was surprised to find his voice sounding normal. He noticed Rodrick dismissing the soldiers around them, and was grateful for the time alone with Marissa. He felt a smile forming on his face as he looked up at her beautiful face. The connection was still there, he felt her presence not just beside him, but inside him, a part of his soul. The best, most precious part.
         “What happened?”
         He had no idea what to answer. The question was reasonable, but she would never understand, or even believe, that Ignar has chosen her as his mate. His mate. Once again the smile lit up his stern features. He was grinning like a fool, and unable to stop. Luckily Rodrick stepped up to them, and answered Marissa’s question.
         “He’s been touched by Ignar. I’ve never had it happen to me, but I have seen it before. He will have a pryd on his chest, mark my words.”
         Kay was reluctant to open his tunic, but when he saw curiosity replacing the worry on Marissa’s face, he could not refuse. Moving gingerly, yet sensing no ill effects from the pain from only moments before, he removed the clasp holding the tunic together over his chest, and spread the fabric aside, baring the area over his heart. Marissa gasped, and reached out slowly, giving him time to pull away, but he remained still, aching for her touch. Her fingertips traced the newly formed mark on his skin, a caress as soft as a butterfly’s wings. He glanced down, and marveled at the contrast between her delicate hand and his suntanned skin, marked with dark etchings. The pattern was a never=ending knot, intricate beyond anything he had seen before. He couldn’t read it, but in every sharp turn, he sensed himself, and in every soft curve he sensed Marissa, weaved together in an eternal dance.
         “It’s beautiful.” Said Marissa, the words no more than a whisper, her eyes fixed on the pryd.
         Kay felt a strange stinging in his eyes as he watched her caress the symbol of their union.
         “Yes, it is.”



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