Jormugar didn't fear the slavers who roamed the region, most who worked these wastes knew him, and he didn't believe they would cross that line by taking as a captive one of their own. However, the subhuman ones were quite another matter. Until the bounty hunter reached the verges of their lands he had ridden only at night, as he had not expected any pursuit from the valley's occupants, nor did he detect any.

  Feeling safe in his valuelessness he had stopped for a time to manufacture a crude but serviceable longbow, as well as a sturdy spear. They were good for hunting, but he missed his rifle and a well-crafted longbow. Even though he was now armed Jormugar would still have to exercise great care. There were the disturbing bouts of illness also, sometimes he was struck by an almost debilitating episode of nausea and headaches. Making travel and awareness a chore. Going was slow, and the distance to his employer’s stronghold was substantial.

  Once he reached the verges of the lands occupied by the subhuman ones, Jormugar's passage south slowed to a crawl. There were numerous sprawling villages of ramshackle iron huts to skirt. It seemed to the well-traveled bounty hunter, that in recent years the numbers of these unfortunates had grown quite sizable. Jormugar didn't fancy having his still living flesh ripped from his bones, to be devoured by these incomprehensible altered beings.

  It was now dangerous to travel at night, that was the hour when the subhumans were the most active. If ambushed he would stand little chance of survival. A lone man and a healthy horse would be considered an irresistible feast for the distorted creatures. He had never beheld a living one closely, and he had no wish to.

  *****

  It had been three evenings since Aran, Jhary, and Kario had departed from the Bridge in haste. They had spent the days resting and readying themselves for the arduous trek they would soon make inland. The three men and their unwilling captive had secreted themselves in a patch of dense lignum scrub. The tangled profusion of branches created a dense circular thatch, with a hollow center that shielded the escapee's camp from prying eyes.

  Though it carried some risk, Kario had ventured back into the outskirts of the settlement to pilfer supplies, arguing he would be the least conspicuous of the three. He had, to the other's amazement been very successful in procuring the most rudimentary items. Water-skins, food, useful clothing, even some thin but serviceable blankets, he had stolen off a bed in one of the farmer’s huts.

  Aran was unsure his unusual companion would be up to the task, however, as an escaped slave he dared not show his face again in the Bridge. Besides, Aran’s captive had proven most troublesome, and at times he struggled to control her. The pretty girl was unruly, she struggled and fought. Even when Aran slapped and threatened. She cried out for help at every opportunity. Forcing Aran to bind and gag her.

  The last thing he needed was to be tracked here. To resume his slavery was a fearsome specter that had begun to haunt him. The warrior had started to rue his impulsive decision to take Ben Johansen’s strong-willed daughter prisoner. However, there was no easy route to return her; but being hard-headed and stubborn like he was, he would not admit to anyone his spontaneous action had been a mistake.

  Mercenary that he could be, Aran toyed with slitting her throat and being done with his problem. However, to his lustful side, it seemed a waste of a good woman. She was after all pregnant, and that alone made her valuable. If not to him personally, it would to most men. He could he mused take her further inland, and when he was done sell Imogen off for a good price to someone there. A little recompense for his trouble at least.

  So with minimal supplies and a short layover, they had decided to meander slowly north on foot. The day they set out was balmy, and that night a frosty desert cool. A return to more normalized weather for this time of the year, and it was most welcome by all.

  Though Aran was weary from his long and harsh captivity, he had to carry the group. None could hunt as well as he, though he left the navigation to Jhary, at least until they were further north. The bard seemed to have a much broader knowledge of the South than he did.

  Jhary could not risk stopping to entertain, even further inland it was probably not a good idea to be noticed. The bard did not know if he was even implicated in Aran’s escape, but it was agreed they should all lay low and let no one sight their passage north. Bounties would have been levied by now, and who knows how angry or determined to find his daughter Ben Johansen had become.

  Tonight, a slight breeze blew up from the southwest, and the starry skies were bright overhead, the milky way that split the heavens in two, a vibrant dash of silver on a bed of purest indigo. Aran lay back and stretched his hulking torso, gone were the iron symbols of his slavery, only a few chafing scars remained. He put his enormous arms behind his head and eyed his companions as they sat about the cheery fire. It felt good to rest, even if the ground was hard beneath him.

  “Father will come for me.” Imogen accused sulkily out of the blue, as she swatted at the persistent mosquitoes, even though her hands and ankles were bound.

  “Perhaps,” Aran replied with a lazy nonchalance. “Then I can cut off his head.” He teased.

  Imogen’s eyes assaulted him like daggers, pupils pools of dark. Aran only chuckled at the spirited girl, she was little threat to him. He was far more concerned with his two male companions. He needed to get something clarified.

  “We should really release her.” Jhary dared to half mumble beneath his curtain of unbound hair as he stared into the small, cracking fire.

  “Why?” Aran answered lazily. “I could do with the comforts of a female companion, I’m sure you could also?”

  Imogen glared at the warrior and pulled her skirts tighter about her.

  “As lovely as she is I will decline.” Jhary quipped. “Honestly, I prefer willing lovers. It’s asking for trouble, what if her father does track her and brings others? We are on foot, close to weaponless, and encumbered.”

  Aran looked to the edge of the scrubland behind him. There was nothing there but the evening song of crickets and the constant thrum of mosquitoes. “Then I will slay them,” Aran answered with barbaric simplicity.

  Jhary sighed.

  In recent weeks Jhary had thought less about Rachel and his pain, and more about Aurianne, a dangerous duplicity considering the company he now kept. Indeed he was having much difficulty in his present situation. He had not asked Aran what the plan was, or even hinted at wanting to know. That may mean a discussion he was not so willing to participate in. It was by far easier to procrastinate.

  Aran resettled onto his other elbow and gazed through the hotly burning fire at the bard in consternation. “So who did you mean the other eveningby ‘we’?”

  Jhary looked up. “We?” The comment had not really taken him by surprise, though he feigned confusion admirably.

  “Yes, ‘We.’ Slip of the tongue the other night?”

  “Err...”

  “Where is she!” Aran’s voice went hard.

  “Err, who…?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me Jhary, the archer. She was with you in the Bridge, yes? I know she was.”

  Kario got up and walked further away from the fire, clearly uncomfortable with Aran’s sudden aggressiveness. Imogen also withdrew as best her bonds allowed, though Aran was watching her closely.

  “I don’t want stories Jhary, where is she?” The big man abruptly stood.

  Aran’s sudden movement frightened Jhary. He knew he could not fight a man who had no rules. So he spoke swiftly to diffuse the situation. “She’s gone, she took her horse and left. I don’t know where she is at, honest.”

  Aran glared at the man with suspicion. “I need her Jhary.” He growled.

  Kario watched on with interested caution. He was unsure if the warrior would become violent, or if it was simply how the man vented his disappointment. He understood Aurianne's caution now, she had been right to leave. The mere mention of her name, and Aran had seemed to change from an affable and capable man to a rabid bounty hunter.

  Aran turned abruptly and picked up a heavy log which he hurled some feet away into the brush growling loudly. The others shrunk away from his display of fury and were silent. “I have to find her Jhary.” He said flatly.

  Kario was glad he was not the object of the warrior’s ire. Though he was sure he did possess the power to combat it, he was reluctant to play his hand too soon. His powers were best left only for emergencies.

  The remainder of the night was spent in a difficult silence. Aran sat glowering, shoulders hunched, staring into the dying fire. He remained that way, immobile, until long after the others had sought the meager comfort of their thin blankets.

  *****

  The warrior was awake early the next dawn, he watched the light slowly creep into the eastern sky, remembering a time when he would have taken such things for granted. He had slept very little as he pondered what he must achieve, the task seemed as improbable as ever.

  He turned from the sunrise to sight his captive staring up at him huddled in her blanket. He momentarily pondered her wide hips and the pleasing hillocks her breasts made against the gray wool. Aroused, Aran partly wanted to tarry and use Imogen right where she lay, however, his mind was not at peace, and there were others present. He sighed and walked a distance into the scrub to relieve himself.

  On Aran’s return, Jhary was awake and rekindling the morning fire, there was already very little to eat, just a small quantity of stringy meat. Aran would have to hunt again and soon. It was tough going this journeying and living off the land. Jhary scratched at the sand in his hair, it was in his bed, and his clothing. He was already thoroughly tired of it, his current situation seemed all the more unpleasant, especially after he had tasted the comforts of the Bridge. He had after all agreed to go north, only to help Aurianne free her kinsman, he didn’t wish to meet or live with Aran’s tribe. He poked at the now blazing fire much troubled, he would not let the obdurate warrior lead him so far north again. He intended to depart shortly, and once again ply his trade as he had done in times past.

  Aran squatted by the blaze, eyes slitted, staring into the blustering flames. Hand thoughtfully rubbing at his stubbled chin. Brow creased in thought. He then began to speak to no one in particular of the notions that dogged him. “I guess she is headed north to my clan, with her foolish idea of revenge. On horseback, it will be difficult to catch her, and if Bennett were to apprehend or kill her before she is in my hands I can never return.’ He shook his shaggy head from side to side frowning his displeasure.

  Abruptly he stood, Jhary’s eyes on him, mindful. “We need horses!” He spun about on his heel in the sand furious with his situation.

  “I really have no clue where we would find some here.” Jhary finally dared to venture. “The closest ones would be in the Bridge. We can’t go back there…”

  “So you admit it then,” Aran said levelly.

  “Admit what?” Jhary doing his best to feign confusion.

  “She has gone north, and she was with you. You can’t tell me that you didn’t escape with her. I am not that stupid.”

  Jhary just closed his eyes and sighed. “No you are not that stupid. I confess, we all escaped together, but she could not be convinced to stay if we were to rescue you.”

  Aran scowled at the bard but took no further action, gratified he was right. He sat back down by the fire and returned to silent contemplation of the coals.

  “Of course!” Aran suddenly exclaimed in an inspired tone.

  “Huh?” Jhary looked up at the warrior to see a smile cross Aran’s usually stern face.

  He walked over to Imogen pulling her from her covers. “Let’s hope they have sent out a search for you?”

  “Oh no..”

  “Oh no what?”

  “You can’t go back there Aran. There will be posse’s of men crawling all over the place. If they capture you again you will be beyond our help, please see reason!” Jhary plainly exasperated, beseeched the stubborn man.

  Kario who had been sitting off to one side minding his own business suddenly interjected. “But I can.”

  Both Jhary and Aran looked towards him dumbly. They had been so busy on the verge of bickering it was as though Kario didn’t even exist.

  “No one there knows me, and I can easily infiltrate the town. I did it before. We need three horses right?”

  Aran nodded, but Jhary just continued to stare at him dumbfounded.

  “You can steal three horses?” Aran’s smirked at Kario in disbelief, and chuckled.

  “Yes, I can.” Kario replied confidently. “I will go tonight and be back as soon as I am able with three horses. Give me two full days, if I am not back by then you may do as you wish.”

  Jhary was still staring at Kario, the dark man chose to ignore the meaningful stare, he would use his magic powers for this purpose and Jhary would not stop him.

  *****

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  Kario had left that evening, electing to take nothing with him. Aran found that odd, they were not that far from the bridge but surely the man needed water? He didn’t even take a canteen. The warrior sensed a rat, sure that Kario was just looking for a reason to depart. He had not been happy about the taking of a hostage, but then Jhary hadn't been either. Troubled by all this Aran lay down and stared up at the night sky, wondering if it was advisable to stay camped in their current position. Perhaps Kario would betray his whereabouts for a reward?

  A thinnest sliver of a sickle moon peered out of the fast moving clouds, only to be covered again in moments. The wind was on the rise, and it shook the brush and dry grasses so they trembled. Aran did not sleep but maintained a kind of restful wakefulness throughout the night. He would wait elsewhere for Kario to return he had decided tomorrow, and survey the area carefully, he did not wish to be taken by surprise.

  *****

  Kario stood in the dark stand of mallee trees and disrobed. The rising wind was cool on his skin and he shivered, his long black hair whipped about him in the wind. This was an inconvenience, but it had to be done. He covered his dagger that was wrapped in his robe with brush and hoped the items would be there on his return. He didn’t need the dagger's magic to undergo this transformation, it was something he had an innate ability to perform. He had known of this ability since he was a child, encouraged by his mother. There were many others who had mastered this type of magic far better than he, and it was always a risk that he may transform and forget his humanity, forever staying trapped in the creature he had shifted into.

  He closed his black lashed eyes, breathed deeply and concentrated. Letting the spirit of the creature he had selected, flow through him. In the space of moments, a man no longer stood in the trees, instead an owl flew skyward on silent wings.

  *****

  Kario stood naked by the river bank, just downstream from the bridge. It was still dark, though dawn would break shortly. The journey across the desert miles by owl flight had been swift and uncomplicated. However, he stood there now trying to clear his head of strigiformic thoughts. It was difficult to return to the human head space, but his naked predicament and his mission soon pulled him into the present.

  Getting his bearings he realized he was on the outskirts of the shanty town, perhaps there would be some serviceable clothing to be had nearby? He contemplated shaping himself into a dog and trying to steal some garments, but he didn’t feel he could both master his own thoughts whilst manifest as a hound to achieve his goal. Not only that but being in the owl's form for the past few hours had clouded his mind. He could well sense the danger, he must stay in his human visage until the haze of the change left him completely. So he crept amongst the rough shod huts of wood and corrugated iron, looking for something to conceal his modesty.

  This was the worst bother with the art of shape-changing, always ending up someplace inconvenient naked. Finally, he managed to steal a shabby shirt and some trousers off a line, they didn’t smell too nice or fit him very well but they would suffice. Then he made his way barefoot into town.

  The only place Kario knew he could get three horses for sure, would be the livery. So he made his way there. He drew little attention even in the early hours of the morning, many vagrants and drunks wandered the streets in threadbare clothes and no shoes, so he was among good company.

  The stables loomed dark and quiet. He was unsure if the attendant was present or not. The last thing he needed to do was draw unwanted attention. He pushed open the heavy barn door and was greeted with the smell of horses and sweet, fresh hay. No lamps were burning and it seemed the stables were at this hour unattended.

  Equines and their idiosyncrasies were unfamiliar to him, he had never had a horse of his own, and most certainly had never had to get one ready to ride. He liked his chances more with a wild zilant of his world honestly, but he had to try.

  He could sight the silhouettes of the assorted saddles, riding blankets, halters, and bridles hanging over the beam and on pegs to the other side of the stables. He had no clue how they went on. He sighed and hoped the horse he selected would understand he was a novice and help him out.

  There were eight horses currently stabled in the livery. The four other stalls stood open and vacant, already clean with a bed of fresh straw, put down for today's customers. He moved along the row of stalls petting each horse in turn, trying to assess which three would be the best for him to take.

  The first horse he sighted was an old cart horse, even Kario could see its sway back and tired expression, so he passed that one by. The second stall contained a big roan stallion who shied away from his hand and squealed, pawing at the stall door and kicking the timbers with a loud crack. Kario froze and hoped the animal would desist, and fortunately, as he backed away the beast quieted.

  There was a dark mare and young foal in the adjoining one, she must have been here for the upcoming horse market. Possibly part of the reason the roan stallion had been so agitated. She was a sweet mare and nuzzled Kario’s hand emitting a soft nicker, but it would not be right to take her from her foal.

  The vague light of dawn was beginning to bleed through the slats between the timbers and underneath the doorway. He must hurry. The third stall housed a bay gelding, he looked sound and seemed placid, so he grabbed a bridle and worked it clumsily over the animal's head, bending the poor creatures ears at odd angles. He was well trained and good natured, and accepting Kario’s novice horsemanship.

  The next horse was flighty, a fat, sour, chestnut mare with smart white blaze and socks. She put her ears back, and in general, had a bad demeanor. So he went on to the next stall which housed a flashy palomino mare with a white blaze. She gently sniffed his hand and seemed cooperative, without too much fuss he had the bridle over her head.

  As he reached over the stall door to see if the large gray gelding would be a good bet, there was the sound of footsteps scuffing in the dust approaching the stables. He turned to see the door swinging open. A young man walked into the alleyway between the stalls.

  “Was that you Achilles? Quit beating on the stall, you bad boy! I guess I need to move that mare.”

  The man had not yet registered Kario’s presence in the gloom. Kario took a deep breath and stepped forward to appear in the narrow strip of light, availed him by the half open doorway.

  “Ugh!” The young groom jumped in sudden fright, not expecting to come face-to-face with anyone in the livery so early in the day. “Oh, I’m sorry Sir,” He apologized profusely. “I didn’t expect anyone to be here, are you here for a horse or... “

  The man was looking directly at him, and it was all Kario needed him to do, to make that initial eye contact, and he would be malleable as putty. In a few moments the man went quiet, he was by any standard most easy to hypnotize, Kario thought. He stood placidly staring back at Kario, his former fear response quite gone.

  “Saddle those three will you?” Kario requested. He pointed out the three horses he had previously chosen. The young man did not reply but shuffled slowly to gather the riding tack and outfit the animals for travel.

  Kario waited, the man was efficient at his task, and he brought out the three horses and handed them to Kario without a word.

  “You are very tired.” He then suggested to the young man gently. “You probably need to sleep for a while, why don’t you go into one of those nice comfy stalls and curl up in the straw?”

  The man did as he was bid, and Kario mounted the pretty palomino with the striking cream mane and tail, leading the other two horses out into the roadway. The sun was just cresting the horizon, giving the shadows a cartoonish quality, and the town was beginning to wake as he pressed through the streets to the exit way.

  Horse theft in this town was a serious offense, punishable by death. Kario knew this, so he was rightly nervous as he made to cross the bridge on the only highway exit north. The trio of horses hooves clattered loudly on the pavement, all of the animals were shod with iron shoes, and Kario knew that their owners would be livid at their theft.

  His heart was wildly thumping in his breast as he approached the guard station, he had no papers on his person and hoped he would not be asked for them. He was ready for flight if need be, teetering on the edge of a barely reigned-in panic state. The guards were, fortunately, inspecting a trader's cart and merely waved him on by. He broke into a canter, and took the well traveled though poorly repaired road out into the desert.

  After leaving the immediate vicinity of the Bridge he slowed his charges to a trot. He often looked behind, but there was no evidence of pursuit. He had plenty of time, one full day as yet had not elapsed, and he figured by his reckoning he would arrive back at the camp sometime this evening if all went well. He had calmed now and was enjoying traveling in the sandy vastness under the open blue of the sky.

  He rode on for a couple of hours through the clumps of mallee trees, low stands of eremophilas sporting tiny colorful flowers, and over the soft orange sand. Unfortunately, he was becoming very thirsty, however he had no water with him. He swallowed and licked his lips trying to wet his mouth, and told himself that refreshment was only a few hours away, and fortunately, the day was cool.

  It was, at that moment he registered a lone rider approaching from the north. He assumed it was just a traveler headed for the Bridge, but as he strained into the distance a familiarity dawned. Kario spurred his mount forward, this pretty mare needed very little coaxing, she was well trained, the other two animals following in her wake.

  *****

  Aurianne at first, did not know what to make of the singular rider leading the two horses. All she hoped was that he would not present trouble and merely pass her by. It was proving most difficult for a lone woman to do anything near this town, and she was beginning to enjoy shunning strangers altogether. She almost chose to secret herself in the stand of trees, but he had already seen her approach, so she felt she may garner less attention if she just rode quietly on by.

  Even worse Beauty shot across the sands at full sprint toward the unknown man. Aurianne sighed perplexedly at her hound’s errant behavior, she guessed she may have to be drawn into some kind of interaction with the traveler after all.

  As the stranger drew closer, Aurianne realized that Beauty had a reason for her seemingly spontaneous behavior, she knew the man. The redhead could hardly believe she was gazing at Kario, one of the men she sought, and she would not have to navigate the Bridge again after all. That was a pleasant relief. She nudged Isabou into a canter covering the remaining distance between them.

  “I sure didn’t expect to see you out here!” Kario exclaimed happily. You don’t happen to have a sip of water, do you?

  Aurianne held out the full canteen to her friend. Kario drank gratefully.

  “Where is Jhary?”

  “In camp, over that way, not too far from the river.” He pointed to the dunes toward the northeast.

  Aurianne inwardly felt like she had stood in a patch of pleasant, warm sunlight at that news. She had been at odds with the idea of possibly not crossing paths with Mr Brannon again.

  “Let me guess, you needed horses?” Aurianne smiled, and her eyes sparkled.

  Kario nodded, taking a further gulp from the canteen and stoppering it with the lid. Handing it back to her.

  “I take it HE is with you?” She said, taking in the three horses. Her face no longer bore her previous smile.

  The dark man winced noticeably. “Unfortunately he is.”

  Aurianne sighed heavily and crossed her arms, looking away to the desert flats as Isabou fidgeted beneath her. “That is regrettable, but I still have to rescue my kinsman.”

  “Yes, and I will be happy to help. Jhary too.”

  She smiled at him but briefly, he was different this man, in a way she could not put her finger on. He was in a way inert, safe, nonsexual, and yet he very much wasn't. His body and gestures oozed an otherworldly sensuality. There were incidences when Kario made mention of thoughts that only a madman would harbor. In all her weeks of traveling alongside him, though he voiced things that made others uneasy, she could not find it in herself to condemn him as others did to the realms of insanity. To her, he seemed very much grounded. There were events though that she could not explain, namely the lion, and all the talk of shape-shifting. She longed to question her companion more but found she did not have the words.

  Unlike many men, Kario was used to the guile of demoness’ and otherworldly temptations that could ruin most men. He had been reared around such beauteous beings, and Aurianne didn’t have the effect on him that she had on many of the male gender. That was what she was sensing, unbeknownst to her. She actually liked that about Kario, and felt she could trust him more than most males.

  Finally, after a long period of silence, Aurianne’s thoughts returned to the problem at hand. “Yes, but what about him…” Her voice trailed off as she pulled her mount about and they began riding side by side to the northeast.

  “He’s a problem for sure.” Kario replied, “but maybe some kind of truce can be reached?”

  “Honestly I don’t know why I am doing this, well I do, it’s for Darius. He was as a father to me, I have to rescue him. I have to at least know I tried.” Her voice quivered with pent-up emotion.

  “Aran never said he had to kill you to gain readmission to his tribe…”

  “Yes, but I am sure they will.” Aurianne retorted. “I did attack them you know, twice!”

  The two rode in silence, for some time, and still, a consensus had not been reached.

  *****

  The young woman felt decidedly uneasy as they drew closer to the campsite. The sun had begun to set and with it her former bravado.‘ What the hell am I doing?’ She admonished. ‘Walking right into a trap, that’s what!’ She longed to turn about and make her excuses and farewells, but she couldn’t. Darius’ need preceded her own. She had made a promise and a vow, and whatever it may cost her she had to press on.

  It was as though her companion could sense her inner turmoil, as he turned to her suddenly and simply said. “I will protect you from him and the others, you have my word.”

  Aurianne looked up, struck by his sudden statement, her eyes alighting on his. She read a steadfast sincerity there, and dare she say it warmth. She believed him, and she remembered the magnificent black lion and thought that quite possibly he could. She didn’t know quite what to say, but simply nodded, and smiled, grateful that such an unusual and enigmatic man was on her side.

  *****

  The red adobe walls loomed before Jormugar as he rode the grullo horse slowly forward, its hide an almost perfect camouflage to the environs they had traversed in recent days. The young man like the animal appearing untamed, creatures of the wild. The animal’s only hint of domestication was the primitive rope bridle Jormugar had hastily fashioned on the eve of his exodus.

  Many who passed by this place rued the day their eyes were cast on the walls of this compound. It marked the transition from free life into that of owned property. Once marked by the slaver's iron the world took on a new perspective, and one would have little to no control over their life and how they lived it. This place though, did not have those connotations for the young man as he carefully approached the gates, hands in the air to show plainly his peaceable intent. He called to the watchers above and clearly spoke his name and purpose. He had no desire to ride all this way just to be shot at the gates.

  There was silence for a time. The bounty hunter’s ears listened intently, his tired mount bobbing its head, willing away the clouds of flies that stung in a plethora of annoyance with its unruly black forelock. Jormugar let the reins go slack in his hands giving the beast its head. He had been a good and willing companion, one the young man had intended to keep. The horse had performed very well, even in hardship.

  Finally, the smallest of the portals in the large gates swung inward. The guard called him to enter. Jormugar did so with care. He pulled his horse up in the center of the courtyard, and let him drink deeply at the trough. He had earned it. All the while facing Jacques’ sprawling multi-level homestead.

  “The Master will be with you shortly.”The guard announced, then sauntered away to his post. Jormugar very aware he was still being closely watched. So he sat quietly on his gelding and waited with a practiced indifference for the man he needed to see.

  Some minutes later Jacques appeared and beckoned the bounty hunter to him on the expansive steps of his domicile. The slaver stood beneath a large arbor, that bore a tangle of grapevines and inviting green-leafed shade. The vines promised grapes too come the warmer weather.

  Jormugar slipped from the back of his horse and joined his employer, bowing low in greeting.

  Jacques laughed cruelly and gave Jormugar a quizzical glance. “You seem a bit worse for wear since I saw you last?”

  “Yes Sir.” The young man replied stoically. Eyes lowered.

  Jacques laughed loudly at his servants’ misfortune, it was a harsh sound in the almost peaceful, late afternoon. Jormugar did not meet the older man’s ebony eyes but glanced only as high as his weapons belt, hazel gold eyes lay on the black plaited whip tucked there. He would not get any vestige of sympathy from this man, Jormugar knew that. After all Master Jacques happily traded lives and freedoms for wealth on a daily basis. He may have been a valuable servant to Jacques’ cause, however, that would not entitle him to any special hospitality. Jormugar was not Jacques’ equal, the only way he would win any vestige of favor from the scarred slaver, was to present him with fine acquisitions.

  “I was captured Sir.”

  The swarthy slaver sniggered. “Very careless Jormugar, and most unlike you.”

  “I took very ill on a foray up north.”Jormugar continued. “I was ambushed and unable to defend myself.”

  All he got by way of sympathy from Jacques was a twisted smile. “I hope you are not here begging Jormugar?”

  Jormugar shook his full mane of chocolate hair. “No, Sir, no.”

  “Good.”

  “During my captivity Sir, I discovered an entire tribe of people that could very possibly be enslaved.”

  Jacques raised a slick black eyebrow.

  “Strong men, fighters, but not so many they could prevent capture. Women, some very valuable ones. One a girl about eighteen, very beautiful, another a bit older with a strong infant. Some are slaves themselves already, not even in a position to fight. I could count only seven able bodied males or so, a couple of them would make good fighters. Big men, strong.”

  “You don’t say.” Jacques almost purred, patting at his goatee.

  “Yes Sir, I could lead you to them?”

  “Let me see... for handsome payment?”

  Jormugar nodded.

  “I could probably just flog the location out of you. However you have always been consistent Jormugar, and one of my best trackers. So I will agree to your terms. Come, wash, and get some food, and we will talk more of these fine acquisitions.”