'You're scum!' Talsy shouted. 'Mujar haters!'
The larger man's eyes glittered as he stepped forward. 'What if we are? Who's gonna to make us leave, huh? You?' He sniggered. 'Even the big fellow can't handle six of us.'
Talsy glanced around. Kieran stood a few feet behind her, his sword dangling, his frosty gaze fixed on the ruffians. Beyond him, the camp's few mature men looked scared and irresolute, not an iota of courage or fighting skill between them. She faced the brigands, who smirked, clearly expecting to have fun once they had despatched the only warrior who stood between them and their prizes.
She also doubted Kieran’s ability to win against all of them, and said, 'We're protected by a Mujar. Leave now, or he'll send you screaming with your clothes on fire.'
The men glanced around and hefted their weapons. The other three joined them, and they conferred in hushed tones. Talsy marched towards them and flourished her knife, desperate to drive them away before they called her bluff.
'Go! Get out of here, you bastards!' she shouted.
Two men retreated towards their tents, casting many dark looks over their shoulders. Three remained, their sullen uncertainty swimming in wine. Its fumes had apparently reduced their brains to useless mush, rendering them incapable of rational thought. Egged on by the nudging and muttered insults of his comrades, one drew his sword.
'I'm going to gut you, Mujar bitch!' He advanced with staggering strides.
Something flashed past her, and a sword cut the air with a deadly swish. Blood pumped from the brigand's severed neck as his head went spinning. It bounced and rolled to her feet, and she stepped back from its eyes' glazed stare as the corpse collapsed, twitching and jerking. The two remaining ruffians tried to draw their swords, but Kieran sent one howling with a slashed arm and punched the other.
Footsteps made Talsy spin around as the fourth man lunged at her, his sword outstretched. She swayed aside, but the blade sliced into her flank. Kieran leapt at the thug and rammed his sword hilt-deep into the man's gut, the bloody blade emerging from his back. Kieran yanked it out, allowing the man to topple forward, then glared at the other two. They ran to join their companions, tearing down their tents and stuffing them willy-nilly into bags as they beat a hasty retreat. Talsy's legs turned to rubber, and she sank down in a heap. She crawled away from the dead man, shaking with shock. Kieran took her arm and pulled her to her feet, but she jerked free.
'Leave me alone,' she said, hating his ability and self-confidence, but mostly his presence when she wished Chanter was there instead.
'You're hurt,' he pointed out.
'I don't need your help.'
Talsy tottered away, and Kieran stared after her, glancing every now and then at the fleeing brigands. Ignoring the dumb-struck stares of the mild-natured men who had watched so helplessly, she went to Sheera's tent. The old woman cleaned and bound the wound, clicking her tongue.
Talsy spoke through gritted teeth. 'Chanter will heal it when he gets back.'
Sheera shook her head, her hands busy with the bandage. 'Wounds like this can go nasty. I hope he's not too much longer.'
Talsy echoed the sentiment. When Sheera finished her ministrations, Talsy returned to her shack to flop down on the mattress. Her limbs trembled and her stomach was a tight knot that threatened to empty itself. That night she had no appetite, the fight fresh in her mind and the throbbing wound a constant reminder. She fell asleep with her knife within reach.
Talsy drifted in sea's cold embrace, and below her, Chanter sank into the blue depths, bound with gold. She screamed his name and swam down after him, but he sank too fast. She wailed, exhausted her air and inhaled sea water. Thrashing, she coughed and choked.
Talsy woke as something shook her shoulder. A dark shape loomed over her, and his musky scent told her that he was Trueman. She grabbed her knife and stabbed him with all her strength. The man gave a stifled cry and recoiled, almost jerking the weapon from her grasp. She lunged at him again, but he sprang up and fled. Clutching the knife, she panted with terror and the aftermath of her dream, her wound throbbing. As her fear ebbed, she wondered why the thug had woken her instead of killing her while she slept or pinning her down and gagging her.
Confused and uncertain, she rose and went to the door to peer out, clasping her injury. Moonlight silvered Kieran’s pain-twisted features, and her heart sank. He tried to bind his arm with a strip of cloth, using one hand and his teeth. She stepped out, staring at him in horror.
'What the hell were you doing in my shack?' she demanded.
He clasped his shoulder. 'You were screaming blue murder. I came to wake you before you woke the whole damned camp.'
A pang of shame shot through her, but she swallowed the apology that hovered on her tongue. The fault was his for invading her tent and waking her.
'You'd better let me bind that wound.'
Talsy re-entered the shack and lighted a lamp. She gestured for him to sit on the mattress and knelt beside him with a strip of clean linen. Kieran undid his shirt and pulled it off, revealing a nasty gash in his upper arm. Talsy washed and bound the wound while he gritted his teeth and turned his head away. At least her knife was clean, so his wound was unlikely to become infected. When she finished, he put his shirt back on and rose to leave without looking at her.
'Kieran.'
He stopped in the doorway.
'If I scream, bang on the door to wake me. Don't come in here again, understand?'
The warrior nodded and left. She blew out the lamp and lay down, but her worries and aches her kept her awake. Visions of Chanter in another Trueman trap haunted her, and she tossed and turned in the tangled sheets for most of the night.
Talsy woke at first light with gritty eyes and a pounding head. She stretched, wincing, then rose, thrust aside the curtain and tripped over something stretched across her doorstep. She sprawled with a curse, tearing the wound in her side as she was forced to throw out her arms. Gasping with pain, she turned to find Kieran sitting up on his thin pallet, scowling at her.
She stared at him in angry disbelief. 'What the hell are you doing here?'
'Making sure you're safe.' He rose and gathered up his bedroll.
'Well don't! I don't need your protection, so leave me alone!'
Kieran strode away, his back stiff with indignation, either from the embarrassment of being caught sleeping on her doorstep or her harsh words. Talsy glared at his retreating figure, angered by his assumption that he was her self-appointed guardian in Chanter's absence.
At breakfast, she glowered at him until he excused himself and took his bowl of porridge to eat elsewhere.
Sheera raised her brows at the angry girl. 'What's going on between you and Kieran?'
'Nothing. He's an oaf, and he hangs around me.'
Sheera smiled, her eyes twinkling. 'You should be glad, young miss. He's a handsome man, well-mannered and clean. I would be flattered to have such a warrior concerned for my safety.'
Talsy snorted, casting her a withering glance. 'I'm not. He smells and has no manners at all. I have Chanter. Why would I want a Trueman?'
'Because Chanter is Mujar.' Sheera leant forward. 'He's of another race, child. He can never be what you want him to be.'
'Of course he can!'
Sheera shook her head, looking sad. 'Ask Marla, the woman who loved a Mujar. She had many years of misery, for he did not stay with her.'
'What Chanter and I have is different. He won't leave me, ever.' Her hand rose to the mark on her forehead, and she snatched it away.
Sheera noticed the gesture. 'What's that on your brow?'
'Nothing. A clan tattoo.'
She eyed it. 'And does it bind you to the Mujar?'
