'Afternoon, Liam.' She smiled, worry lines creasing her face. 'You look thirsty. Care for a drink?'
'Yes. Thank you.'
Samira lifted the dipper out of the bucket and handed it to Liam. Covered in dust, standing out in the hot sun, the cool fresh water tasted better than any water he'd ever had. Though he knew this was the same water from the same well that he'd been drinking from since he was young, somehow, it always tasted better after a long day's work.
He finished the water in one long slurp, then handed the dipper back. As he did, he made eye contact with Samira. There was sadness there. Sadness and pain. Her eyes seemed as if they were carrying a heavy weight all by themselves, holding back the emotions Samira was too brave to show off here among the other farmers. It was as if all of her anguish over losing Ryder had been packed away behind those two beautiful blue eyes. They struggled to hold it all back. But somehow, while Liam looked on, they softened. For a moment, the burden they carried was lifted, and a wave of happy relief swept over them.
'Come on, son, don't hold up the line.' The farmer behind him gave a light shove, and Liam looked away from Samira as he stepped aside and out of line.
Liam went back and lifted the wheel he and his father had been working on. Standing up, he found himself face to face with Captain Beetlestone. The veteran was backed by four other soldiers.
'Well, well,' said Beetlestone as he doffed his helm. 'Back hard at work, are we?'
Liam shifted his grip on the wheel. 'What do you want?'
'Don't you know?'
Farmers in Furrowsrich village were a notoriously nosey bunch, and a crowd began to form behind Liam, watching the interchange.
'No, Beetlestone, I don't.'
The guard captain smirked. 'It's been two tendays. Lord Purdun wants to know if you've thought about his offer to join his elite guard.'
Liam looked back at the group of farmers. Everyone was silent, pretending to mind their own business, but he could tell they were hanging on every word.
'No, I haven't.'
'Well-' the captain said, taking a step closer to Liam- 'let me give you a piece of advice. If I were you, I'd take him up on it.' He stepped back, examining in the entire crowd in one long, slow glance. 'Someone like you doesn't get too many opportunities. Could change your life.'
Liam blinked.
The farmers began to murmur. Beetlestone wasn't lying. Many of these people would give all they had to see their son or daughter taken into the baron's elite guard.
Life in Furrowsrich was hard. No money, long days in the fields, barely enough to get by. Taking this position would mean an easier life for him and his family. But that was exactly why he couldn't take it. It was Purdun who created this situation, and if Liam let himself be bought, then who would look after the interests of these other folks? If every revolutionary in the Crimson Awl could be bought, then Purdun would win. At least if Liam held out, there was a chance, albeit a small chance, of the Awl overthrowing the baron and changing everyone's lives at the same time.
Beetlestone put his helm back on his head. 'Well, think about it. Think real hard about it.' He turned to the rest of his men. 'Let's go.' The guard captain walked away, his men falling into step behind him.
Liam took the wheel into the shed. Though it was hot, the shade was a merciful relief from the sun beating down on his head and the farmers' staring eyes on his back.
His father followed him in. 'What was that about?'
Liam shook his head. 'Nothing.'
'Nothing? Sounded like something to me,' said Douglas, raising his voice and moving closer to his son.
Liam flinched. Ever since he was a little boy, his father would use his superior size to gain the advantage in an argument. Despite the fact that Liam was no longer five years old, and he was now taller than his father, Douglas was still well-muscled from his time in the fields, and his father's commanding tone intimidated him.
'I told you already, Lord Purdun asked me some questions.'
'Captain Beetlestone said something about an offer.' Douglas moved in even closer, his chin nearly touching Liam's cheek. 'What offer is he talking about, Liam?'
Liam squirmed. 'All right,' he said as he took a step away from the older man. 'Purdun offered me a spot on his elite guard.'
'And you didn't take it? What kind of fool are you?'
Liam's anger rose at his father's goading. It replaced his sorrow and gave him strength. He squared his shoulders and glared down at Douglas. 'Not the kind of old fool who waits around, toiling his whole life just so that fat pig Purdun can get rich off my hard work.' He shoved his father.
Douglas lost his balance and had to take a step back. It wasn't that the shove was so hard that it actually overpowered the old man, but the action surprised both father and son.
Liam's heart pounded. He was tired of being muscled around, and now he'd done what he'd never before had the courage to do. The feeling thrilled him. But there would be consequences, and that also terrified him.
Douglas came back with both fists balled up, ready for a fight. 'You prepared to back that up, boy?'
Liam instinctively reached for his belt, but he hadn't brought a sword. Glancing around the room, he looked for something to defend himself with. It was too late to talk his way out of this; he'd seen that look in his father's eyes too many times. Their arguments had often ended this way over the years. But this one was different. This time, Liam had made contact, and the old man wasn't going to let that go unpunished.
Liam remembered back to a time when he was only ten years old. They had been out in these very fields, and he and Ryder had been practicing their sword fighting with a couple of hoes. Douglas had stepped between their little game, and Liam had feigned a blow to the old man's head. His father had grabbed him by the arm and lifted him clean off the ground.
Looking Liam in the eyes, Douglas had said, 'If you hit me, you'd better make sure I don't get back up. Because if I do, you'll be sorry.'
Liam had never forgotten those words. They had been burned into his permanent memory, and since that day, he'd never laid a finger on the old man.
Until now.
Liam caught sight of a broken pickaxe leaning against the wall of the shed, and he made a lunge for it. Douglas saw him move, and swung down with his powerful fist. But Liam was too fast, and he spun away, grabbing the pick and avoiding the blow as he sidestepped the slower, burly old man.
The move had saved Liam from a painful sock in the gut, but it had humiliated his father, adding insult to injury.
Douglas's face was now red, and he sneered at his son, his tremendous frame heaving with exertion as it blocked the path to the open door. 'You're gonna get it, boy.'
Liam lifted the broken tool.
'What's going on in here?' Samira appeared in the doorway. Her face was obscured by the sunlight behind her. Liam could only see the silhouette of her hand placed firmly on her slim hip. Her hair was tied on top of her head, exposing the long smooth curve of her neck, backlit by the sun's rays.
'Oof.' Liam staggered back, slamming into the wall as his father's fist collided with his chin. He slid down the wall to the ground.
'Stop it!' shouted Samira. 'Stop it right now.' She pushed past Douglas to get to Liam's side.
'This doesn't concern you,' said the old man, rubbing his knuckles.
Samira bent down and touched Liam's cheek. 'You're bleeding.'
Liam put his hand to his face. His father's punch had split his parched lip.
Douglas shuffled his feet. 'Leave the little sissy be. He got what he deserves.'
Samira spun on the old man. 'Don't you have work to do?' she said. 'You've done enough here already.'
'Bah.' Douglas sneered at Liam then turned and walked out the door. The opening no longer blocked, the sun beamed in from outside.
Liam pushed himself up on one arm and started to get up off the ground.
Samira grabbed him by the shoulder and helped him up. 'Oh, be careful.'
