Updated 11/16/24

Chapter 16

Blackhawk

Blackhawk, feeling the weight of his lord’s warnings, decided to steer the conversation with Rosewud in a direction that wouldn’t jeopardize his own plans. As they journeyed south, leaving behind the tall forest for the rolling hills around Fairness Crossing, Blackhawk ran his hand through his curly black hair, nodding as Rosewud continued his chatter. He wasn’t joining the Order, didn’t plan on dying, and couldn’t kill the undersecretary. It wasn’t what his lord wanted.

It would complicate his life.

Better to keep things simple, better to always remain entertaining, helpful, and complimentary—a chameleon, as he was trained.

“Where’d you get the shillelagh?” Blackhawk inquired, diverting the topic to the intricate, carved weapon the undersecretary kept close.

Rosewud rolled the shillelagh in his hands. “It’s a family heirloom.” He smirked. “My father sold me to the Order when I was thirteen—best thing he ever did for me—but upon completing my training, I claimed the shillelagh from my father’s lifeless grasp. The Order has no qualms about personal vendettas, as long as I complete every assignment.”

As soon as Rosewud paused, Blackhawk changed the subject again, asking, “How did you find yourself in the earl’s service?”

“I did my best to be entertaining, helpful, and complimentary to my lord, as you should be. Perhaps you can rise to serve him. He’s always looking for talented men to…”

Blackhawk recognized the phrase—theprimary infiltration tactic taught by Caileagh Melazera: always remain entertaining, helpful, and complimentary.

Following her training, they were never seen as a threat by their prey, but as a useful tool. As time went on, they became more and more accepted, then indispensable, always gaining, inch by inch, more and more influence. This is how the Order took control of any group or domain.

 “How did you come to be his undersecretary?” Blackhawk interjected. He led Rosewud’s thoughts here and there, as Caileagh had shown him. All Blackhawk had to do was drop breadcrumbs. Blackhawk had lived with the earl and his countess for seven years. He might not be part of the Order, but he’d learned all the lessons.

The sun descended and the shadows grew long. Soon, they entered a town and stopped in front of a white-washed building, above a dark blue door hung a sign: Commandant.

Blackhawk looked back at the cage, meeting the gaze of Little Soldier. Despite her being just another girl, an inexplicable knot formed in his gut.

Rosewud jumped off the cart and went inside but was only gone for a few moments. Sauntering back, he slapped the shillelagh against his leg, his lips tight. “Greysun’s at his camp.” He sighed and boarded the cart, snapping the reins.

The town of Fairness Crossing comprised about forty rundown wooden buildings laid out in a square. Of the twelve they passed, three were brothels painted like stalls decorated for Faire Day. Swaying skirts beckoned from their porches as the colorful ladies blew kisses. Blackhawk craned his neck, his attention lingering.

Once far beyond the town, they reached the training camp—a brown building surrounded by tents and muddy fields filled with soldiers. The rhythmic drills stirred nostalgia in Blackhawk for the boys he had trained with at North Fort just a moon ago.

Stopping at the building, Greysun, a towering figure in a ruby-red surcoat, emerged to inspect the cargo. His wavy brown hair touched his shoulders. Squinting against the light, he surveyed his army in the distance as he descended the steps, stroking his thick beard. The commandant asked, “Any trouble on the ride from River Town?”

Rosewud responded with familiarity, “The roads were smoother today than earlier in the week. Blackhawk here was good company. Let me introduce you. Lieutenant, meet Commandant Virgil Greysun.”

“Commandant.” Blackhawk bowed.

“Virgil, this is Steven Blackhawk. He’s the youngest ever to make lieutenant.”

“Lieutenant.” Greysun’s scrutiny crawled up and down the boy in methodical inspection.

“Blackhawk.” Rosewud directed his hand toward the superior officer. “Commandant Greysun trains most of the king’s soldiers. He’s a genius with the boys. They’re ferocious when he’s done with them.” Turning back to Greysun, he said, “I was telling Lieutenant Blackhawk this posting could advance his career. He would learn a lot from you, Commandant.”

“You flatter me, Rosewud. Let’s see what you’ve brought.” Swaggering from the porch, his glistening jeweled awards danced on his pristine ruby red uniform. He stood beside the cage, watching Rosewud on the other side.

“I’ve seven boys and six girls.” Rosewud whacked the bars of the cart with his shillelagh and set it on the seat. “Boys, stand up.” The children flinched away, but he gestured for the whimpering children to rise, glaring. The boys staggered and stood, trying not to step on the girls. The oldest two were so tall, their shoulders touched the bars overhead.

Greysun wrinkled his nose as he got close to the reeking imps. He reached into the cage which was packed with the thirteen children, staring into their frightened eyes. “Be still,” he commanded as he probed the first boy’s muscles, inspected his teeth and ears, looking for defects. “Where’d you get them?” he asked, as he walked around to examine each of them.

“My lord called in the loans on four properties yesterday. The families couldn’t pay, so I appropriated their children. I’ll have more next moon. Want them?”

“If they’re as good as these,” Greysun said with a grin. “Absolutely. However, it’s expensive. The lads keep growing. Half don’t learn and end up in the mines. I barely break even.” He chuckled. “As you suggested, selling girls to the new brothel may cover the cost of outfitting the boys.” He pointed at Blackhawk. “Bring them all out so I can get a better look.”

Blackhawk grabbed the shillelagh from the cart and walked to the back. He rapped the cage and lifted the latch.

The whining children retreated against the bars behind them.

He pulled out the oldest one, shoving him before the commandant by the back of the neck. Then he returned for two more.

The younger ones all cowered—all except Little Soldier, who stood straight, the small boy clutching her side. She glared, pointing a finger at Blackhawk.

He snorted. “You’ll do.” He grabbed her arm and tugged.

She bent down and bit his finger.

“Ow,” he sucked in a breath and gave her a harsh thump in the chest with the shillelagh.

She grunted, stumbling back on the boy, who cried out and fell, still holding on to her. Her face paled; tears came to her eyes but she turned to help him up.

Blackhawk examined the wound. She’d not broken the skin, but it hurt. With an angry growl under his breath, he jerked them both out by an arm.

Their sobs sparked a memory; big hands had picked him up roughly by his arm and dropped him on a bed. He flinched as they hit the ground.

In a moment his mask was back. He was a stone.

 He snatched the girl up under his arm and snarled, “Don’t do that again.” Then he scooped up the boy who was lighter than he expected. Blackhawk noted he had many yellow and green bruises from long before.

Blackhawk carried them to their spot in the line. The children kicked and yowled as he dragged them out of the cage. When all were in place, boys on one end, girls on the other, all were whimpering but one.

Greysun ambled past each, poking and prodding, as their sobs grew louder. “Quiet!”

The brood fell silent. Little Soldier glowered, but Greysun didn’t see it.

Blackhawk almost smiled.

“I’ll take the lot,” Greysun announced, rubbing his hands together. “These’ll do well.”

Parading back and forth before the girls while he talked, Greysun stared into each one’s eyes. He stopped in front of Little Soldier and rubbed the child’s fine yellow curls in his fingers. “This little one will need time to mature, but they’ll find a use for her until then.”

Blackhawk looked down and sighed.

She should not be made a whore.

Rosewud and Greysun were discussing details when Blackhawk interrupted. “Shall I take the girls to the brothel?” He grinned.

“I see why you made rank so soon.” Greysun pointed. “You want the one with the green door on the main street, on the right. Ask for Madam Bonaforte. Tell her the commandant sent you with trainees.”

“Don’t get distracted, Lieutenant.” Rosewud smirked, flicking dust from his tunic. “Bring back my cart first.”

“Yes, sir.”

Turning to Greysun, George Rosewud snorted, “He’s got coin enough in his pocket to go around several times. I did when I was his age.”

Greysun laughed and motioned for Rosewud to follow him. “Let me offer you a drink. I received a bottle of…”

Blackhawk pointed at the girls, then the cart. “Back in the cage,” he barked. They hesitated, so he gestured with the shillelagh. “Hurry.”

They moved, Little Soldier still scowling.

“Don’t blame me,” he whispered as she passed, “I’m just following orders.” A twinge needled him. He frowned, slamming the door.

Owakar

Owakar grasped his head between his hands when the young soldier offered to drive the girls to the brothel. “No!”

His ethereal form trembled as he watched the guardians exchange worried glances.

This is terrible! I have failed. I’ll never be a full-fledged watcher, he thought as he wrung his hands.

If Sarah Otual entered that brothel, it would be impossible to protect her without revealing her importance. Gossiping demons riding their hosts would report seeing guardians to the Warrior. And if she drew his attention—Owakar shuddered. The Melazeras might become interested.

Invisible, lost in thought, Owakar paced, unaware of the other people and animals around him. What could he do? He prayed and prayed, his eyes on the young soldier. Owakar whispered to him about the innocent girls, and Sarah, who he seemed fascinated with.

The boy hesitated for a moment, his hand on the reins, shaking his head. When he neared the door, Owakar made the message on the sign beside the door brighter, so Blackhawk might notice it and turn back. Your fantasy awaits. He paused but entered anyway.

The guardians can get her out, but that won’t do. That won’t do at all.

His heart pounded. “I’ll be back,” he told the guardians. Owakar slowed the inhabitants’ illusion of time, a trick of the mind that was easy enough given how malleable and limited human perception was.

Alocrin, I need you. Meet me at the Lion and Tiger Inn! He sent his thought to the farthest reaches of the Celestial Sea in search of his mentor. Then, he materialized in an alley between the stable and the inn dressed as a commoner. Etched into the sign that swung above the door were the roaring heads of a lion and tiger, their paws pressed together.

In spite of his urgency, the aroma of fresh oregano, sage, and thyme filled his nose making his mouth water—baked potatoes cut in half and crusted with herbs. Even though his gut burned, he paid for a plate and nibbled the first half while he waited.

When his mentor arrived in a flashy red cloak, Owakar spoke first, keeping his voice low. “I tried to help her, but I'm not sure if I did too much or too little. The boy is still taking her to the brothel.” He hunched over his plate and peeked at the people around them. He pushed the plate toward Alocrin. “Here, I can’t finish it.”

“Oh, thank you.” Alocrin took a bite, letting out a happy noise. “This is good. Tell me what happened.”

As Owakar recounted the events, Alocrin's smile grew. “You're learning.” To this the apprentice watcher frowned.

“I’m proud of you. You didn't take away the soldier's choice—you helped him find his own conscience.” Alocrin explained.

“But I didn’t influence him enough,” Owakar protested.

 “The question is whether we influence toward love or away from it toward self-interest.” Alocrin replied. “You showed him a better path and let him choose to walk it. It often takes a long time to see any results.”

Owakar felt the knot in his chest loosen. “So, I didn't fail?” His voice quavered, “I thought the boy soldier would save her, but instead he took her to the brothel. I can’t let her guardians act; any of the unclean spirits frequenting it would inform the Warrior and—”

Alocrin put up a hand. “Peace, Owakar. Slow down. We can’t control anything while the Serpent owns the world. Go back and watch. All will be well.”

Owakar looked at his hands for a moment. “How am I supposed to help them and limit their suffering if all I do is watch?”

Alocrin chuckled. “It is natural to feel that way. Suffering is their lot because of the Serpent’s rebellion. Not because of your failings.” Alocrin put a firm hand on his shoulder. “However, if you change a person’s journey by your will, you take away their free will and concede that the Serpent is right. You must walk in wisdom when you intercede.”

“What can I do? The boy is taking her to the brothel.” Owakar, heaved out a breath in frustration, rubbing his forehead.

“Calm yourself, Owakar. Tell me what you can do.”

Owakar sighed. “I can comfort her.”

“Yes. What else?” Alocrin watched his student’s brows furrow in contemplation.

“I can help her by directing those around her or distracting them.”

“Yes, as you have before.”

Alocrin continued, “Fear not, Owakar, trust our father’s plan.”

Owakar’s shoulders relaxed but he still squeezed his eyes shut.

Alocrin gave him a pitying look. “Recite from your lessons. What is chaos?”

“The natural product of free will without love.” Owakar recited the definition and paced clenching and unclenching his fists.

“Correct, and where do we see it?”

“In the celestial sea—Alocrin, how is this going to help?”

“Be patient. Think. You are on the right path, tell me more.”

”We see chaos in the celestial sea; as it is above, so also below in the Density.”

“What else contributes to chaos?”

“Unbridled self-interest that creates evil systems.”

“And what are the possible human perspectives of this?”

“That the natural condition of mankind is one of never-ending obstacles on the road to impending disaster—Or that J’shua made a way for mankind to receive forgiveness and govern themselves by the Law of Love.”

“And how does the God of Truth incorporate all this in his plan?”

“He sees the whole picture and all possibilities—as people and angels choose. It all leads people to J’shua.”

“Yes, very good. Have you already seen the good that comes of this?”

Owakar nodded. “Yes—but I feel so inadequate.”

Alocrin patted his shoulder “We are. But our father loves us in spite of that. Be at peace. Seek excellence, not perfection. Now go see what happens.”

Owakar followed him to the road. “Alocrin? Will she be alright?”

“Everyone suffers,” he said, patting Owakar on the shoulder. “But she will survive as she and her parents walk according to the law of love.” Then Alocrin waved his hand and disappeared behind the apothecary shop.

Letting out a cleansing breath, Owakar turned the corner, transforming into light again. In Lorness, time returned to normal, while he prayed it would work out well.

Chapter 17

Sarah

Sarah sighed as she stood in the line, her eyes following the boy soldier. The man who had argued with her Opa now stood by the commandant and yelled, “Black Hawk.” The young soldier boy looked up, ran to them and bowed.

She put her hands on her hips.

If I were named for a bird, it would be Chickadee or Wren.

Those were happy, cheerful birds. Not birds that swoop down and pick up little girls from their hiding place.

Besides, he’s not black, he’s mostly red. So, why not just Hawk?

Hawk pointed the short stick at the girls and then the cage, motioning. The line shuffled forward. One by one, they climbed in. Sarah, the last, reached for the floor of the cage to heave herself up, determined to do it herself, but Hawk picked her up and set her inside.

She turned around, pushing the stinky straw away with her boots, and knelt. Leaning her head against the metal bars, she peered at him and their eyes met.

She’d hated him when he pushed her in the cage the first time, but J’shua’s still, small voice told her, He will help you. Forgive him.

Her brother had forgiven her. She remembered.

***

David was four winters older than she and was going to be gone for a long, long time when he left for his apprenticeship, training horses in the faraway land of Esthlanis. The sword would soon be hers, so she took it.

She ran along the forest trail holding it high overhead, proclaiming the adventures of the fierce Sir Sarahad, but she tripped, and the sword flew out of her hand. She searched for it until the shadows concealed everything, then she plodded home before dark, her head hanging low.

She trembled as she slogged to the open door–her scowling brother stood waiting. He looked much like their father, hands on his hips.  “Ma told me to go find you. It’s almost dark.”

She’d looked up at him with trembling lips.

“Where’s my sword?” he demanded. “I know you took it.”

Sarah looked at her feet. “I—I lost it,” she said with choppy breaths, as she wiped her tear-stained cheeks with her sleeve.

David’s face softened, he sighed and pulled her close. “We’ll find it tomorrow after chores.” He took her hand and they walked inside. His forgiveness was unexpected and undeserved. He loved her. Recalling his forgiveness made her miss him all the more.

She remembered the familiar passage.

[For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.]

Blackhawk

Lieutenant Blackhawk navigated the narrow, dusty streets of Fairness Crossing, as several of the girls in the cage pleaded for him to free them, louder and louder. He blocked out the cacophony of their voices, preoccupied with foolish thoughts—dangerous thoughts. The main street, flanked by drab little shops, led him to his destination—the brothel with the green door. What could he do?

He brought the cart to a halt, while the whimpering, begging girls behind him grated on his nerves. Glancing at the sign beside the door that proclaimed, Your fantasy awaits, he grimaced. Not a fantasy for the girls. He’d used whores. They seemed to like it. Did they? He thought of his own dissembling with his lord. These girls had innocent souls.

Why did he care?

Everyone serves someone. He knew his place. They would adapt, just as he had.

His passage into the underside of life had been gentler. He wasn’t caged or beaten into submission. No, he’d been seduced by food and warmth and sweets and…what he’d once perceived as safety. He didn’t know any other way.

Blackhawk’s boots scraped on the dusty street as he dismounted from the cart of irritating girls. As he neared the brothel, the door swung open and a cheerful gentleman strutted out, exotic perfume in his wake.

At the entrance, a young girl, lips stained ruby red, welcomed Blackhawk with a feathery black fan, her red shift low cut and covered with a tight-fitted leather bodice. Her attempts to flirt with her eyes and fan made Blackhawk smile. She looked a year or two younger than himself. Just starting he guessed.

Blackhawk entered, scanning the front room. Three fellows lounged at a table beside the door playing knucklebones.

“Blast, how can you be so lucky?” one yelled.

The other loser banged the table. “That was my last ten baden.”

The winner, with a dark tunic stretched tight across his bulky shoulders, scooped up the coins. His scarred hands, raked in the bones and spilled them out of his hand again.

“Leave the sword with me if you want service,” he said, eyeing Blackhawk and the money on the table.

“I am Lieutenant Blackhawk, Commandant Greysun sent me with trainees. I am to speak with Madame Bonaforte.”

The man nodded to the girl. She curtsied, her movements accentuating every budding curve. With a sweet voice, she directed him to wait and gestured towards a plush chair.

Blackhawk leaned against the wall and watched her alluring gait as she disappeared down a long hall with doors on either side.

Soon, Madam Bonaforte glided into the room, big busted and thick waisted, her black silk robes rustling. Coils of dark hair cascaded from a ruby scarf. Cloying perfume, perhaps gardenia—patchouli—and geranium, as overbearing as the rest of her, attempted to cover the odor of some wretched disease. Brown eyes of stone, frozen in a much-painted face, drilled into Blackhawk. Make-up could not hide her frown lines and years of despair. Her working days were long over. Something in her dark, hollow eyes reminded him of Caileagh, his lord’s wife.

“Thank you for delivering our new prospects,” Madam Bonaforte purred. She gave him directions to a pen behind the brothel for the time being. “I’ll evaluate them later.”

Blackhawk bowed, acknowledging her instructions.

“Clara will meet you out back.” the madame declared, motioning towards the young girl, who turned toward the back of the house. “Make sure you lock the pen before you come back in.”

Blackhawk rubbed the back of his neck, then gave a quick bow to the madame before returning to the cart. As he navigated the narrow streets, barrels, rock piles, and stacks of roughhewn timber littered the path. Other wagons impeded his advance, distracting him as he maneuvered around them to the alley. There, he encountered broken crates and smelly puddles of waste. Many deliveries, not yet taken indoors, including a pile of clean straw, blocked his way. He glanced back at Little Soldier, still watching him.

Deep in a recess formed by surrounding buildings, he spied the pen—a large wooden box made of rough pine slats—and Clara, who squinted and shaded her eyes from the sun. Blackhawk stopped the cart; the cage’s floor was blocked from Clara’s view. He watched the young harlot fan herself as she leaned against the building, her gaze now fixed on the back door. One by one, Blackhawk took each girl from the cage and tossed her into the pen. He got them all out except one.

What was he doing? It was crazy.

Clara glanced at him with a smile.

Watch that door, wench.

He motioned for Little Soldier to lie flat.

Her eyebrows raised as she kneeled and lay on her belly, still staring at him.

Good girl.

The whore re-latched the pen, leering, beckoning him to follow her.

His lack of response didn’t discourage her.

She prowled toward him, closer and closer to the cart. She licked her lips.

“Sheisse,” Blackhawk cursed under his breath.

He smiled and sauntered toward her. Pulling her close, he twirled her around so she faced the building and kissed her hungrily. Then he pulled away. “Later, sweetheart. The commandant will kill me if I dally.” Then he smacked her on the rump.

Clara swatted his arm, shrugging. With a flutter of her fan, she disappeared inside the brothel as the back door shut with a smack, leaving the blubbering, begging girls shivering in the pen.

Blackhawk huffed a breath and ran back to the cart to find the attentive Little Soldier up on her elbows—grinning. “Down,” he hissed.

She flopped on her belly; her smile wider.

He rolled his eyes and jumped aboard. He drove away, but soon he stopped. With a frown on his face, he hopped down to examine the horse’s legs. He whispered, “Little Soldier, see that pile of straw? Your da would want you to hide there like you did in the woods. Go. I’ll be back when it’s dark.”

He finished checking each leg and went back to close the cage. She was gone.

You are something.

***

He returned to the garrison and found Rosewud waiting in front of the brown building. “I think I’ll stick around for a few days. See the sights; you know what I mean?” Blackhawk flashed a grin. “And I might talk to Commandant Greysun about a future post.” He held his breath, waiting for a response to his dissimulation.

“Good idea, lad.” The undersecretary smiled and tossed him a pouch that clinked pleasantly.

Blackhawk thanked him with a nod.

Rosewud smiled. “Since I’ve an empty cart and you’re staying, I can return to Lorness early. When you’re ready to leave, speak with the proprietor at the Hook and Shoe. Tell him I sent you. He’ll loan you a horse to take you to High Keep. I’ll pick it up when I arrive next moon.” A militet dropped a heavy chest behind the cart’s seat with an informative jingle and thud. “It looks like this’ll be a regular trip.” Rosewud cracked the reins.

Blackhawk waved as the undersecretary of Gaelib Melazera departed. He puttered around the dingy town. Buying provisions and renting the horse took up the rest of the daylight. There were no sights to see, nor was he in the mood to vent his frustrations on some girl for hire. He tightened his pack as he watched other men entering the brothel across the street. Somehow, the idea made him uneasy. It never had before. He sighed and kicked the dirt.

Owakar

Owakar shook with relief. However, they were not out of trouble yet.

The boy seemed brave enough to take the girl to safety. Would he get distracted or change his mind? One thing he knew was that humans could not be trusted.

Owakar gathered everything about this boy on the luach. The fact that not much appeared meant the God of Truth had kept his past a secret. God revealed only what was necessary from the Book of Life through the luach. There were many things he kept to himself. Something about this boy was special. He guessed that if anyone knew the truth, it might be revealed to the boy or an enemy of the boy. And somehow that would harm the boy’s soul or misdirect the plan of God. Now he was curious. Secrets always made him curious.

Blackhawk was taken in by Gaelib Melazera and served him since he was four. The depravity that was recorded about the earl made Owakar shudder. It explained why the boy was strong in self-protection, keeping his thoughts and desires buried deep, not a drop leaked to his face.

Owakar paced while he watched. And prayed. Perhaps they would save each other.

The luach hummed, pushing him to focus on his other celestial duties.

Just do my tasks. I’m as impatient as a human.

Chapter 18

Sarah

The afternoon light filtering through the pile of straw grew darker. Sleep eluded her as the cold night air penetrated her thin shift and unsettling sounds echoed in her imagination.

A creaking door, a distant splash, and the rhythmic clopping of hooves chiseled at her decision to wait. She strained her ears, her senses heightened in the gloom. The night was alive with unseen movements, punctuated by sudden shouts and grunts. A commanding voice rang out, “Be gone, you wastrel,” followed by the crash of something ceramic. Even though the coarse straw kept poking her, she fell asleep as the night sounds dwindled.

***

She twitched as a colorless, scaly dragon slithered from a mirky bog into her nightmare, its thick forked tongue tasting the air. Its foul breath and narrow yellow eyes held her captive. Then it became the bearded giant wearing his sparkling jewels like dragon treasure, as she stood in line, scowling at his lizard smile and eyes like pricker bushes.

A shiver ran down her back under the glare of the gray dragon, who walked along the line of boys, poking them with his sharp talon.She couldn’t see the little boy, because he was behind the bigger boys who stood straight like soldiers.

The dragon barked, summoning men who led the seven boys away. Her little blackbird ran to keep up. She twitched and panted as panic surged over her when she realized her sword was gone—she was defenseless. Then with a bolt of lightning and a thunder clap, her nightmare shattered into loud laughter, rousing her back to the harsh reality of the cold night.

***

Sarah felt J’shua’s touch. Peace, Little One. I am with you. You are safe.

Still, she bit her lip, hugging herself in the lingering darkness, as her thoughts raced.

Will Hawk come back? Should I wait or sneak away and go home?

She didn’t know which way to go. Contemplating her lack of options, she decided to wait, counting the moments. If the sky grew lighter, she’d leave.

“One, two, three, four…”

Blackhawk

The tavern lights extinguished one by one as Blackhawk rode leisurely toward the brothels. Some houses still had a few ladies out front. “Hallo, handsome, I’ve something sweet for you,” one called out, moving her hips and her hands in slow circles.

He was tempted, his body wanted a taste of that, but he did this assignment to make coin, not to spend it. The only way to escape this life is to save money—surviving meal to meal was bondage. And he had something important to do. Looking her over one last time, he shook his head and moved on.

Other men leered, or shuffled past, drunk. The strongmen only glanced at him. No one reacted when he turned down the alley.

“Little Soldier.” Blackhawk looked all around with furtive glances as he stepped down. “Are you still here?”

The straw rustled. There she stood, hands on her hips, staring at him.

Dropping a burlap sack on the ground, he said. “Climb in while I examine this beast. You have to hide until we’re out of town.” He circled the animal, checking its form, wondering if she’d do it. Returning to his starting point, the sack was full. “Good girl.” He hoisted and secured it behind his saddle and mounted. “We need to get far away from here.”

Drawing his cloak tight against the chill night air, he rode north at a walk. After the town was out of sight, he turned off the road toward the river and galloped. An hour later, he stopped in a thicket. He took down the sack and opened it. She greeted him with a groggy smile and a yawn, rubbing her eyes.

“Well, Little Soldier, what do we do? If we’re caught, they’ll make you a whore, and I’ll be dead. So, we can’t get caught. That’s what J’shua would say, right?”

“Yes.” Her bright grin pleased him. “The way is clear when it is needed.”

He stared at her. “What?”

“Ma says it after praying. She says that J’shua has perfect timing. We think we need something now, but we don’t. We need it when we need it.”

“Hmm, that seems to be the way of it so far. Ready to ride up front?”

She bobbed her head.

He mounted and then leaned down, offering his hand. As he pulled, Little Soldier jumped, making him laugh. “Is there anything your parents haven’t taught you?”

She smiled at his laugh, but then furrowed her brows. “Hawk, how do you know what you haven’t been taught?”

He chortled, shaking his head.

Little Soldier chattered on as they rode. “Hawk, do you hear how the crickets stop gossiping to each other when we get close?”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“Hawk, did you know the stars in the sky speak if you learn their stories?”

“No, I didn’t know that. Can you hear the stars?”

“I only know a few of the stories,” she replied, shaking her head. “My da teaches them to me when we’re outside at night, and the sky’s clear.” She went quiet and then sniffled for a bit.

But when they came out of the trees she pointed at the night sky. “Look! That is the virgin who had a baby. She has a branch in her right hand, and ears of corn in her left. That story is about the birth of J’shua, son of the God of Truth. There is another story called the Serpent.”

Still looking up, she turned her head side to side. “I can’t see him right now. He is bad. He killed J’shua. But his father raised him from the dead. It turns out the God of Truth planned it all along. It was a sacred secret. Now J’shua lives in heaven with his father and all the angels.” She gave him a smile as they entered the trees again.

He smiled, too.

They passed the rapids and she said, “Hawk, doesn’t that rushing water sound like a fierce battle?”

“I suppose it does.” Blackhawk had never been so entertained. He began noticing the sights and sounds around him, not just potential threats.

Night surrendered to the first light of day trickling through the leaves as she slumped against him, sound asleep. Now what? She had no home. Her mother was a fugitive. The father was away or dead. Her grandparents dead. He sighed.

Most times, he planned better before doing something stupid. If he was caught, and if he lived, his lord would be very disappointed. He might give him over to the Order. Or Caileagh might take him—he shivered.

He headed into another dark thicket. Without waking her, he slid off the horse, carried her to a soft grassy spot, and laid her down. What was he going to do with Little Soldier? He remembered what she’d said earlier.

The way is clear when it is needed.

He smiled, covering her with a blanket. Tying the horse’s reins to a branch, he lay beside her.

We need it when we need it.

He tucked the blanket snug under her and went to sleep.

Waking in the late afternoon, he turned to find only a rumpled blanket. He jumped up. “Little Soldier?”

“Hawk!”

A moment of relief pricked him as her bright face appeared below the horse’s neck. He smiled at the new nickname.

On her tiptoes, she patted its shoulder. She seemed so tiny beside the enormous creature.

“What is the name of this noble steed?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Everyone deserves a good name.” She rubbed her chin and tapped her foot. “Whitefoot. I shall call her Whitefoot.”

The horse whinnied.

“It’s a good name.” Blackhawk rolled up the blanket, repacked the gear, and saddled the horse. He mounted, gave her his hand, again, she jumped as he pulled. Opening the leather pouch he’d taken from his belt, he handed her some dried meat.

She closed her eyes. “Thank you, J’shua,” she said. Then she pushed the whole lump in her mouth and nodded as she chewed, mumbling, “S’good. S’ank you, H’k.”

He shook his head. “I forgot, you haven’t eaten since—We have to make it last. There are no inns the way we are traveling.”

They continued alongside the river for several days following the same routine, riding at night and sleeping during the day. When he spotted a shallow section, they rode across. A stack of fallen trees confirmed they were approaching River Town. He bit his lip as he wondered what to do with her. Rosewud frequented the Sapphire Inn, so he wouldn’t leave her here. He sighed, not having any idea what he would do with her when he reported to High Keep. Then he remembered what she’d said.

The way is clear when it is needed.

***

The next evening, as they rode, he asked her, “In town, could you call me ‘brother?’”

She straightened her back, which had been relaxed against him. “Yes. I’m good at pretending. You’re my valiant knight and as a princess, I bestow upon you my blessing for your service.” She turned to look up at him and, with a flourish, presented her open palm holding a seashell button that had fallen from her shift. “Now you have a jewel, too, like the fire-breathing dragon you saved me from.”

“Commandant Greysun?” he laughed. “Yes, he can breathe fire.” He picked up the small token and bowed as low as he could. “It is my pleasure to serve you, Your Highness. I am honored.” He placed the button in his pocket. “But for now, can you pretend that I’m your brother?”

Chapter 19

Rebekah

Rebekah caught up with the Donitoros as they searched for a path into the Frei. They exchanged a despairing frown with her. Rebekah was alone. She’d failed. Unspoken words hung heavy in the air as they entered the gloomy forest.

Rebekah rode ahead ensuring the trail was wide enough for the wagon. Guilt gnawed at her. She’d lost Sarah. What had she done? Would her daughter be a servant, a slave? Regret flooded her thoughts. She should have stayed on task, ambushing the cart when there were only two men. She wallowed in self-loathing. Stop it. It can’t be both ways. Once you’ve made a choice and acted, it’s done.

The God of Truth always had a plan, regardless of her actions. Her ambush might not have worked or might have made things worse. A word of wisdom had told her to help this family, for reasons unknown. Her stomach clenched, but the spirit of J’shua comforted her.

Sarah is safe, echoed the still, small voice. A passage from the Writings followed, validating the comforting words:

[And we know that all things work together for good to them that love the God of Truth, to them who are called according to his purpose.]

It was small comfort. Greysun might use boys for his army, but Rebekah had to find out what he did with girls. Suppressing thoughts of the future awaiting Sarah, she focused on the trail through the woods. The Donitoros shared stories of the providence of the God of Truth, providing a soothing distraction.

Teress asked, “Why are you dressed so?”

“An undersecretary brought soldiers to my parents’ farm to collect on a debt.” She bit back her tears. “They demanded full payment for the debt. They were going to take me and my daughter as payment, so I told Sarah to run away and hide in a particular place in the woods. My mother—” Rebekah let out a sob. “My mother and father stalled them, while I ran to retrieve Sarah. But a soldier had seen her and took her—while the others killed my parents—Now I’ve lost her.”

She burst into tears, admitting her complete failure. She took several noisy breaths, trying to compose herself. “I tracked them and found their camp. I learned they were taking the children to River Town, so I stole a horse—”

A shuddering breath escaped her trembling lips. “I raced ahead to River Town and bought these clothes to hide and the bow and arrows to ambush them on the road.” Rebekah cried into her hands.

Teress said with sadness in her voice, “Oh, Honey, I’m so sorry. You chose to save us instead of her.”

Rebekah nodded. “What can I do now?”

“J’shua saved us for a reason. And your daughter is not lost to you. You will find her,” Teress said.

Vincent bobbed his head in agreement. “And we will help you.”

Rebekah heaved a cleansing sigh. “Our plans have gone so wrong. My husband is a Knight of J’shua. I accepted his life. It meant ten years of difficult travels, but we were young. He showed me how to hunt and track and live in the wild. With a bow, I can hit a rabbit two hundred paces away.

“Even when I carried our son in my womb, I’d remained with Jonathan, riding from town to town through Mestelina. He taught me their language, Mestelin, so I could minister to the people and understand them. But as our next child grew in my belly, the reality of traveling while caring for a toddling boy weighed upon us. And after an encounter with highwaymen, we decided I should return to my parents’ farm.

I learned to be content at home, seeing him for only a few weeks every three or four moons. But he was done. After this last trip, he was supposed to establish a circle. We would be settled. But now, he won’t know where to find me.”

Everyone was silent for a moment, listening to the clomp of hooves and the creak of the lurching wagon. Rebekah, straightened her shoulders. “Alas, I’ve no skill at posing as a man. I’ll need a better disguise while searching for my daughter.”

“I could teach you to act more like a brute. Couldn’t I, Teress?” Vincent winked at his wife.

“That you could, dear.” His wife smiled. “You have a deep husky voice, Madame Otual.”

Rebekah’s eyebrows rose. “There’s no need for such formality. Call me Rebekah.”

“As you wish, Rebekah. Now, about being a man, every word should be sharp, every movement abrupt, decisive.” Vincent chopped his hand into the other palm. “When you laugh, it should be loud. Make grand sweeping gestures with your arms, not just your hands. Act like you own everything you see, and no one will think you a woman.”

Rebekah frowned. “I’ll need much practice.”

He continued, “As for your stride, it must be bold, commanding, purposeful…even when you’re at ease. Teaching you how to be angry as a man, that’ll take time.”

Rebekah squirmed on her saddle.

Teress put a hand on her husband’s arm. “Stop the wagon, Vince.” She turned back to Rebekah. “You should rest. Tie your horse and ride with us for a bit.”

So, Rebekah rode in the wagon while Teress and Vincent carried the conversation.

“What will we do?” Teress asked with a quaver in her voice.

Rebekah told them how she and Jonathan lived in the wilds of Mestelina when they were younger. They listened as she rambled, “Until we know how to proceed…my husband oft says this. Remember, prayer is more important than anyone knows. It grants J’shua and angels permission to work unseen on our behalf.”

The wagon creaked and groaned over roots of trees that crossed their way. The pines began to give way to oak and beech trees.

“Because of the first man’s sin, the Serpent rules in this age. But he doesn’t own those who have accepted J’shua’s ransom. Even so, we are still learning how to walk in his light.”

It soothed Rebekah to quote Jonathan. “As man has free will, he must ask for aid. But the God of Truth is not to be commanded and the power of God isn’t conjured. God is a caring father. Although everything takes time and we struggle, learning as we go.”

Rebekah paused, and Teress asked, “How did you meet your husband?”

Rebekah thought back. “It was almost twelve years ago. I was sixteen winters old.”

“My father and I had come to town to pick up the plow he’d ordered the moon before. My father had admired him, from the first moment he’d seen Jonathan racing to rescue an innocent man.” She laughed as she recalled the day.

“I saw him dash toward the commotion, too, but I’d noticed him earlier. A merchant tried to overcharge me for the plow we’d ordered. The weather had prevented our travel. He wanted to charge a storage fee.” Rebekah’s eyes flashed as she remembered the argument with the greedy man.

“I turned and saw a boy with hair the color of fresh churned butter, his bright blue eyes watching me. His smile was warm and unassuming. Not the way most of the local boys leered at me. When I smiled back, he stared, transfixed, until his friends pulled him away. He was a Knight of J’shua.” She sighed.

“Fairness Crossing was the closest town to the Knights’ School so they were not an uncommon sight. He was a fresh graduate by the look of him. His knight’s cloak was still dark blue and all one shade, the grey tunic and breeches under it were new as well. That meant he had studied the Writings and sword fighting for five years.

“I was curious, but no more. However, my father brought Jonathan, and the two other knights, home to lodge that night, for it was a long way back to their school. The talk over the evening meal demonstrated his kind heart and great passion for J’shua. We married four moons later.”

The Donitoros’ older girls, forgetful of their earlier terror, played games with the baby and sang amidst all the bundles in the wagon’s bed. Their boy, Brin, slept.

It was difficult to follow the river and maintain enough distance to remain unseen and unheard. So, Rebekah took to riding the horse again and scouted ahead. Around another bend in the path, she heard the hawkers of Fairness Crossing calling to boatmen and customers as they tied up to the docks. After a time, the shouts became distant and Rebekah surveyed the landscape for a place to make a shelter.

A small clearing appeared. “We are near the river, but are hidden from those traveling on it.” Rebekah pointed at several rabbits. “There’s much undergrowth sheltering small animals to snare, and over there, I see blackberries.”

Vincent exclaimed, “Thank you, Father, for your provision.”

The children began plucking the ripest berries.

Rebekah continued, “Our shelters will blend into the woods. During the day, when the river is full of boatmen, we’ll remain within the forest, foraging only at dusk or dawn. We’ll use only a small fire. ”

Vincent nodded and shared a worried look with Teress. “There can be no loud sounds. Even a child’s tantrum could bring about our end.”

“Yes.” Rebekah agreed.

As it grew dark, they ate together from the army provisions and lay down on the wool blankets from the soldiers’ packs. They all hoped and prayed it would not rain as they nestled under several pine trees. Tomorrow they’d build the shelter.

Her thoughts turned to Sarah. The stolen horse’s whinny reminded her of the desperate acts committed—stealing a horse, killing three men. Prayers and meditations on the writings brought moments of peace, but the ache for her daughter persisted. When she succumbed to sleep, the worry for Sarah still echoed in her dreams. Where was she? Was she really safe?

Sarah

Riding on Hawk’s horse, Sarah chatted about whatever she thought. “A princess should be brave and have good posture, don’t you agree? Who would listen to a princess that sat like this?” She demonstrated, slumping.

Hawk chuckled. “I saw a princess once. She did sit very straight, so I think you are right about that.”

Sarah beamed, patting Whitefoot, the horse, as they continued on their journey. Hawk had rescued her from the dragon and the big cage, so climbing into his bag had felt as natural as obeying Ma or Da. He’d needed her to hide.

The day grew warm, and they came near the river and stopped. She wondered why he took down his pack. She was hungry, so she slid down the side of the horse.

Since they were far away from the dragon, they’d been riding in the daytime and stopping only at night like normal travelers. What had changed? It was only midday.

Hawk started a fire and hung a pot of lentils. Then he took out the blankets. Hawk removed his boots and breeches. His shirt hung to his knees. She was about to ask him if he was sick until he looked her up and down and said, “You stink, Your Highness.”

She looked at him puzzled for a moment.

“It will be cold, but we can’t go near a town with you smelling like… Well, you know what you smell like. Take off your boots.”

Glancing at the cold water flowing over dappled brown stones, to the deeper water, she shook her head, scowling, arms folded across her chest. Hawk inched closer as he spread his hands. “It won’t take long. Now don’t scream. Someone might hear you.”

Sarah took one step to run, but he grabbed her with one hand and pushed her down to the ground, pinning her with ease.

He pulled off her boots and picked her up under her arms, wading into the water, thigh-deep.

Tears welled up in her eyes. She squirmed and growled until he plunged her in the icy water up to her neck. “Blast!” she yelled, gasping.

Her ma said that sometimes, but she shouldn’t. She glared and counted through clenched teeth, “One, two, three, four. Get me out, please, get me out! I’m dying.”

“That should be enough.” Hawk set her on the riverbank and climbed out.

Sarah hopped around in little circles, hunching over, whimpering. Her shift was wet from the neck down. Her teeth chattered and she shook all over. Hawk threw a blanket around her and rubbed her briskly. He pointed at the log before the fire. “Sit.”

She sat with a huff, scowling into the flames.

I won’t forgive him again.

He stirred the pot and spooned some into a cup for her.

Sarah took it, turning her back on him. The spoon shook as she ate but the lentils warmed her and tasted good.

Hawk pulled her close and put one side of his own blanket around her. She relaxed as his body heat began to relieve her chills. Almost asleep, she felt him carefully untangling her snarled hair. He was gentle, like her ma.

After some time, Sarah felt warm and nearly dry, she sighed and wrapped the blanket tighter. “Do I smell better?

“Yes, Little Soldier, much better.”

Sarah leaned back against Hawk, sleepy under the warm sun.

J’shua, bless Ma, and Da, and Oma, and Opa.

And Hawk.

Help us all be where you need us until we meet you in the air.

Chapter 20

Blackhawk

In the morning, Blackhawk hid his surcoat, brigandine, and helmet in the fraying burlap sack and mounted behind Little Soldier. The garrison didn’t supply a soldier’s clothes, so Blackhawk wore common homespun, and should blend in when they entered River Town. Frowning he looked Little Soldier over, wondering if he should make himself look disheveled like her, but decided against it. He wanted to make a good impression. 

He kept a leisurely pace. Fellow travelers passed often, some mounted and some walked alongside laden wagons, each offering cautious nods. River Town was close.

“Here goes. Remember to call me brother.”

She looked at him with a smirk, her eyes brimming with a mischievous glint. He glared back at her, but then his mouth twitched. He couldn’t help but smile.

She was something.

As the town came into view, the scent of fresh cut wood emanated from the nearby mill. The main road burgeoned with men directing wagons, loading bags and bundles. Farmers and workmen darted back and forth, pleading for speed and shouting demands like angry hornets. Bags tossed into carts thumped like drums. A box dropped. Thunk. A palpable urgency painted the scene. They were fleeing.

Blackhawk’s chest constricted. Frantic eyes pierced him. He didn’t understand why his gut was pricked by this. Countless times he had ridden into towns and villages with Commandant Sulla in search of deserters or criminals and seen this fear. But a vague memory niggled beneath the surface.

He could not remember it. Only the feeling. His teeth clenched. No. He wouldn’t waste time trying to make it take shape.

His earliest memory was a warm bath and clean clothes from his master, Earl Melazera. Whatever happened before that was lost to him. He pushed those thoughts down.

Blackhawk slid out of the saddle and placed Little Soldier on the ground. As he tied the horse, he said, “Wait here by Whitefoot.” Turning, he waved to get the shopkeeper’s attention as he approached. “Hallo. What’s going on?”

The man wiped his brow with his sleeve. “Haven’t you heard? The king taxed the nobles. They’re calling in loans. Any who can’t pay have their wife and children taken. Everyone’s going west.”

Blackhawk forced himself to respond lightly. “I never thought I’d be fortunate to have no land. Do you know all these people?”

The sweaty shopkeeper passed bags to grasping hands. “Yes, we’re a close community.”

Blackhawk gazed back to check on Little Soldier. He stiffened. She wasn’t where he’d left her by the horse.

Sprinting up the stairs, he searched for her in the bustling crowd. Panic tightened his gut. He scanned again, slower.

Why would she leave. I told her to stay.

A town official wearing the earl’s sigil on his tabard, hand resting on a sword, passed by, causing Blackhawk to jerked his head side to side looking for more.

Are there soldiers here that might know me?

He looked wider for any hint of red brigandine or brown gambeson.

The next thought caught in his throat.

What if Gaelib finds out?

He swallowed hard.

He’ll have me drawn and quartered. He let out a sigh and chuckled. Or better still, kill me quickly in a fit of rage.

He shook his head back and forth as he scanned the market again.

What was I thinking to do such a thing.

He still didn’t see her.

Maybe she found someone she knows.

He fiddled with his sleeve and bit his cheek.

What if I can’t find her? I can’t look all day. I must not be late to High Keep.

He began pacing back and forth across the porch.

At least she isn’t in a brothel.

Trying a different pattern, a sense of loss clawing at him. Then he spotted her.

She was in a wagon, patting the head of an infant in its mother’s arms. Blackhawk marveled as she chattered away, making the baby laugh. Then, Little Soldier turned, pointing unerringly at Blackhawk. He might have lost her, but she hadn’t lost him.

He sighed with relief.

She is something.

Blackhawk grabbed the reins and walked to her, his brows furrowed. “There you are. I told you to stay.”

She glowered at him, wrinkling her nose.

“These people are leaving,” Blackhawk said sternly. He held out his hand to Little Soldier. The milling crowd rumbled in the background.

The woman laughed. “Not for a bit. Shaun still has a dozen things to load. I’m Kennah Decker. We’re heading west, where the weather is—milder.” She waved to someone as she adjusted the babe in her arms. “Where’re you headed?”

She had brown eyes and long brown hair braided down her back. Her peaceful gaze quieted his doubts. Would she be good to her? He glanced at his horse and swallowed hard.

The way is clear when it is needed. You need it when you need it.

His throat was dry and he cleared it with a strangled cough. “Well, I saved her from a debt collection earlier this week. Her family’s gone.” A shout from the crowd made him jerk and grit his teeth.

If this doesn’t go well, we’ll flee on Whitefoot.

“I have to go to High Keep. She wouldn’t be safe there.” Another box dropped with a loud crack. “I-I’m looking for a family to take her.” He held his breath.

“I see.” Kennah gazed down at Little Soldier. “Do you want to go with us? I can tell you’re a good girl. You’d be welcome.”

Little Soldier held her gaze for a long moment as she weighed her options. “Yes, ma’am.” Turning, she jumped into Blackhawk’s arms and hugged him. She pulled on Blackhawk’s sleeve and placed another button in his hand. “You’re my valiant knight. I love you, Sir Hawk.” She hugged him again.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Lowering her onto the wagon, he blinked sudden wet eyes. He cleared his throat and focused on Kennah. “Thank you, ma’am.”

He scrounged a handful of baden from his purse. “Could you make her a new shift? Something pretty. The buttons are falling off this one. It’s all tattered now.”

“Of course,” the woman said, laying her hand on his arm.

Blackhawk stood stunned.

Her simple touch engendered a peace he’d not experienced before. A peace that was alive, not a numb, drunken stupor.

“It’s a charitable thing you’ve done, saving a stranger. I’ll get linen from the cloth merchant. Blessings of J’shua be upon you.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he mumbled. He walked to his horse, glancing back as Little Soldier lifted her hand in the slightest wave.

He mounted Whitefoot, gave her a nod, and rode away.

***

As Blackhawk journeyed toward High Keep, the rhythmic clip-clop of Whitefoot’s hooves echoed in his ears, creating a soothing backdrop to the tumultuous thoughts swirling in his mind. The clamorous scene of River Town receded into the past, replaced by the spring green beauty of the surrounding countryside.

As the landscape unfolded, Blackhawk couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that his encounter with Little Soldier marked a significant turning point. It was mere chance that he’d seen her enter the forest and even more unlikely that the horse would graze at the exact place where she hid. He wrestled with conflicting emotions—relief that she would be cared for and an undeniable ache at parting with the one person who had called him “Sir Hawk” and hugged him like a hero.

As the sun cast long shadows across the road and the Wooster Inn loomed on the horizon, Blackhawk’s mind raced with uncertainties generated by Little Soldier’s simple words. He kicked Whitefoot into a gallop, the wind blew through his curly black hair, and a faint spark of hope flickered within, filling him with delight.