Beyond the Crimson (The Crimson Cycle) (10 page)

He grabbed my hand
, as he pulled me off the muddy main road of the village towards the direction of the stables. His touch made my whole arm feel detached like it was floating. Hardened faces stared, and this time not just at him; they began looking at me, and for the moment I couldn’t focus on anything, not even the nervousness that ran through my stomach. All I could process was the fact that he was still holding my hand, and it was in front of all these village people. The notability of how special it made me feel was a foreign emotion, and it left me in disarray.  

He must have felt me staring dumbly at him because he tilted
his head down to look at me, lips slightly curled upward and I felt the heat return to my face. “No more questions?” he simpered, as he led me towards the stables. I shook my head because it was all I could manage. He had magical powers whether he knew it or not.

“Ah, Brendelon Beaumont!”
He dropped my hand, as a short stocky, red-faced man with dark brown hair greeted us.
Beaumont?
Even his name was prestigious. The man’s eyes flickered to me before shifting his gaze back to him.

“Thomas, this is Katarina.” H
e gestured towards me, but kept his gaze to the man.

“Lady Katarina,” Thomas said politely
, reaching for my hand. “It is a pleasure.”

I placed my hand in his.
“Nice to meet you.” He looked slightly confused by the accent of my voice or maybe it was the dialect; I wasn’t sure of the greeting process, and Brendelon snickered, clearly amused with my awkwardness.

“Your Majesty has deemed that Sir Brendelon be given two horses of his choosing,” the
lanky servant stated officiously and without even waiting for a response, he scurried back to the castle. Thomas raised an eyebrow but did not argue. He waved his hand forward and led us across the squishy grass fields towards the large wooden stables.

“Choose any two you like, Sire.”

Brendelon walked around the horses examining them. “How old is this mare?” He pointed to a smaller grayish-white horse.

“Nineteen summers
, I would say.”

H
e looked at me mischievously. “Will not be rearing up then?”

“Nah, she is very tranquil,
a good horse, but I would think you for a fast young steed?”

One side of his mouth curled up. “O
h,
I
do.”

Thomas looked at me, finally understanding. He smiled, deepening the crow’s
feet at the corner of his eyes. “Well, Sire, if I may, I think you will love this one.” He showed Brendelon a dark brown horse. “He is a bit wild but very fast.”

Brendelon walked over to the horse, examining it. He gave it a pat on the nose and it neighed in return. “He will do. I will take this one and the mare.”

Thomas nodded and grabbed two saddles off the wall of the stable. “How does your mother fair?” he asked, but immediately shifted uncomfortably under Brendelon’s murderous gaze.

“I know not,” he replied brusquely
, and Thomas asked no more. I felt embarrassed for him and wondered why Brendelon was being so rude to him, but I didn’t dare to ask.

Thomas saddled the two horses up, handing one rein to Brendelon before bringing the other to me. I took a hold of the leather strap awkwardly. He glanced at Brendelon and cle
ared his throat. “Has she ever ridden before?” he asked, brushing the dirt off his loose dirtied shirt and adjusting his brown leather belt that wrapped tightly around his bulging middle. I wasn’t sure why he didn’t ask me directly, but I figured it had something to do with being intimidated.

“She will be fine.
” Brendelon waved his hand like it was nothing, but I saw the wicked gleam in his eye. “Her instincts do not tell her to fear what she should.” He chuckled to himself, as he adjusted the straps on the saddle. Thomas twisted his mouth to the side, clearly not understanding the joke. I decided that for a knight, he needed
a lot
of work in the chivalry department.

“I’ve never ridden a horse before…” I hated admitting it to him; I already knew he was finding it much more humorous than he should.  

He laughed darkly again and effortlessly hoisted me up. It was terrifying being that high up on such a powerful beast. I worked hard to not tremble, but I felt unbalanced as if I would be thrown to the ground in any moment. I squeezed my fingers through the horse’s mane, taking deep breaths. 

“Do not let her se
nse your fear. She needs to know you are in control,” he said, taking some mercy on me as his voice softened to its calming melody. “Pull back to stop, lean her the way you want her to turn, give her swift kick here to make her go faster,” he said, pointing to the side. He flashed that heart-stopping crooked grin. “And keep close to me.” He winked, and I forgot all about my fear.

He watched the beautiful, powerful beasts prancing along in the pen. He wanted to be one; he wanted to run, run so fast not even colors could keep up, only becoming worthless streaks in his sight. He could feel the wind in his face
, and his muscles twitched to be free. Free… but they were not free, were they? He lowered his gaze to the wooden fence that confined them and wrinkled his nose. It was cruel to trap such magnificent creatures. They were meant to dash across lands, only to be bound by nature, and without a moment in between, he swung open the gate.

             
“Run!” he yelled.

The beasts stared, unmoving.

He looked into the distance. His father’s men would be back soon, and they would try to stop him. Quickly, he grabbed a whip from the wall and gave them one hard smack across the backside. They reared up, neighing wildly. He fell backwards, amazed at their strength.

“Run!” he yelled again
, and this time they listened, taking off faster than he had ever seen. He watched enviously, as he stood to his feet. He would have given anything to be one of them, to be boundless too.

             
He could hear the men shouting as they ran closer. He smiled because it was too late, but then his reason caught up to him, and his stomach clenched, doubling him over. His father would be angry; no, not angry, he would be murderous... What had he done?

              The fire cackled loudly as I stared into the black canvas littered with silver glitter. We had stopped to rest for the night, and it was almost as though his rudeness retired with the sun, too tired to play his games, and for the first time, I finally felt comfortable around him.

“I’ve never seen so many stars in my life,” I stated
, breaking the silence as I searched for familiar constellations hidden by their friends.

             
“You speak as though you have never seen the world before,” he remarked, staring into the flames.

             
I shrugged. “I guess that’s because I haven’t.” I sat up, wrapping my arms around my knees as a chilly wind blew past me, scattering glowing embers. “I had always meant to go to a school far away so I could see all new things, but it didn’t really work out.”

             
He scrunched up the side of his nose. “Why?”

             
I didn’t want to get into the details about it, but I didn’t want to come off rude either. “Well, my grandfather became really sick, and the doctors said he didn’t have much longer to live so instead of leaving, I stayed.” I felt the familiar sting work their way to my eyes, but I pushed it down.              

             
“Did he pass?” he asked, turning his face from the flames to look at me.

             
I sighed. “Yeah.”

             
“So leave now.” He looked down as though he lost focus and unstrapped the leather ties from his forearm guard, which were the only remaining parts of his armor that he had not taken off.

             
I combed my fingers through my hair, staring at the tips. “Well, I already started school, so I’m stuck there for a few more years.”

             
He glanced up, raising an eyebrow looking rather baffled.
“Stuck
?”

             
I nodded.

“Why would you do that if you knew he would not live?” He seemed appalled by my words
, and I didn’t understand why it was so hard for him to comprehend.

             
“I didn’t want him to be alone. I loved him more than anything. He…” I drifted off, as the pain began escalating. My grandfather had been everything to me: a parent, a friend, a shoulder to cry on, and he kept me accountable to shape the person I had become. It sent pain through every part of my body that I would never have a conversation with him again; his words and presence would no longer be there to comfort me. I looked away as the tears burned the corners of my eyes. “It’s not a big deal,” I said quickly, ready to be over this conversation. “It’s a good school, and when I finish I can go see all the things I wanted to.” I stared straight ahead thinking about it, thinking of all the adventures, and new wonders I would cross, but then I turned to the perplexing knight beside me—looking just as uncomfortable as I was—and I doubted I would ever see anything more mystifying. In fact, there would never be another adventure that could possibly come close to this one.

He grabbed a nearby stick and shoved it into the
fire moving the pieces of wood. “Is your world is very different from here?”

I let out a small laugh. “Y
es, it’s
very
different.”

He threw the stick into the hungry flames and
looked up towards the night sky. “Are the stars different too?”

             
“They are the same stars, but you just can’t see them because of all the city lights.”

             
He wrinkled the side of his face. “
City lights
?”

             
“Yeah, the towns are always lit up, so it’s never dark enough to see the light.”

             
He let out a soft huff of air. “Dark enough to see the light?” he mumbled as though testing the words out then he shook his head. “The flames do not burn out?”

             
“Well, it’s not exactly a flame. It’s through electricity…” I watched the glow of the blaze danced across his confused features. “There are these things called electrons and protons and when they…” I stopped because elucidating the facts only seemed to confuse him more. He stared back into the fire, moving his eyes around. It was too complex for him to understand, and I could tell he hated that fact. “Well, it makes a light that doesn’t need a flame.”

             
“Is that what lit the dwelling we were in?” he asked.

“Yeah, it just takes the flip of a switch.”

He let out a soft laugh as he shook his head. “You are speaking in a tongue I do not understand.” He sighed and lay on his back with his hands across his stomach. 

             
“Sometimes I can’t even understand the advances in technology,” I said, twisting to look at his wandering eyes. He shifted to his side, propping his head up on his hand, and looked at me with those glittering emeralds. Despite my best efforts, it made my heart beat rapidly.

             
“You are educated like nobility, but you work like a commoner,” he stated, pointing at me. “It makes sense not at all.”

             
I wanted to laugh. He was the one who didn’t make sense; compared to him, I was as simple as breathing.

             
“I guess you would consider me more of a commoner, but it’s just not the same as it is here. It’s all different.” I hated the words as they came out, but it was what it was.

             
“How?”

             
“Well, there are no kings—”

             
“No kings!” He sat up, clearly appalled, as he scrunched his eyes together, looking towards the flame once more. “Who controls the people?”

             
“The people vote for a president and the president takes control, but even he doesn’t have absolute power. Different groups of people all have to agree with him before he makes a decision.”

             
“Groups of people like the church?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at me.

             
“No, not exactly, it’s the Senate and House of Representatives. Each state—I guess you could think of it like a very very large village—votes for a person to represent them, that way the voices of the people can be heard.”

             
“So in a sense the commoners rule the land?” He pursed out his lips slightly, right nostril scrunched upward, looking rather disgusted with the thought.

             
I nodded. “Yeah, but the president makes sure everything is enforced.”

             
He flopped back down, covering his face with his hands for a moment. “I thank the stars I was returned,” he mumbled through his fingers.

             
I laughed. “Well, if you were a
commoner
, you might not think that.”

             
He huffed out a breath. “And I thank the stars I am not,” he mumbled sleepily—not missing a snooty beat—as he rolled to his side, eyes closed.

             
I watched him for a moment, as his breathing fell into a deep steady rhythm, studying the enthralling beauty of his face before I rolled onto my back and stared into the starry sky, trying to organize my thoughts about him. He was valiant and charming, yet devious and terse; playful and arrogant, but altogether malicious and guarded; so many traits that didn’t belong together, yet were all twisted up to create this implausible knight. Even his moods changed rapidly as though he became bored with one so switched to another, too distracted to actually keep any consistency in his behavior, and I couldn’t help but wonder which one was the real him. I was caught in a riptide of curiosity, and it was difficult to swim out. If one thing was for certain, it was that he was trouble—and I knew better than to take that lightly—but the problem was that even when he was being curt or malevolent, I still found him painfully beguiling.

I wasn’t really sure how to feel about it
, but there was something in his paradoxical demeanor that was mesmerizing. It was hard to figure out but exciting to discover, and the more I learned, the less sense it made. I closed my eyes, realizing he was a puzzle with pieces that didn’t seem to fit, and I had become a compiler who was absolutely resolute to complete it.

*****

The mountains donned their golden crown, sending out cheerful rays of warmth into the lingering crisp night air. I hadn’t fathomed that I could possibly get any sleep on the hard branch-covered ground of the forest, but my exhausted body proved me otherwise.

I rolled to sneak a glance at Brendelon, who was sleeping on his stomach, head turned to the right with his hand resting on the side of his face, fingers intertwined into the curl. His left hand was at his side, grasping tightly over his steel sword that still lay attached to his hip. He looked very peaceful and much younger without the scowl on his face.
             

He suddenly shifted and afraid to be caught gawking, I sat upright and began putting on my boots as though I had been doing it all along.  He
groaned, rolling onto his back before blinking at the rising sun then sat up and pushed a hand through his short hair. He glanced at me, and my mindless heart fluttered pathetically, not listening to any of the warning my brain had been giving it, but who could really blame me, after all I did have perfect vision in both eyes.

“Sleep well?” he
asked with a grin, as he rose to his feet, stretching out his tall body.

“Surprisingly, yes.
” I smiled. “What about you?”

He shook his head. “N
ah,” he said playfully, as he strutted towards his horse and pulled out the remainder of the loaf of bread Mordegrant’s men had given him. He broke it in half and handed me one end. “We will be at Caerleon by midday,” he promised, as he took a huge bite. “Then we will have some real food.” 

“Is that where you live?” I asked before taking a bite of the bread. It was hard but my rumbling stomach wouldn’t argue with any substance at this point.

He stuck the remainder of the loaf in his mouth, holding it with his perfect teeth, as he grabbed his armor and started putting the dark gray gambeson over his thin, white, long-sleeved shirt. He pulled the bread out of his mouth. “It is just where I stay when I have nowhere better to be,” he finally replied, not looking up from dressing.

“Where else do you live?”

He glanced at me, looking annoyed. “Nowhere. I go wherever I end up. Caerleon belongs to Arthur not me.” He stuffed the rest of the bread in his mouth, maybe so he wouldn’t have to speak anymore. 

“You don’t call any place home?” I asked.
Mordegrant called him a prince, so he must belong somewhere.

He swallowed before sighing overdramatically
. “Home is a deceiving name for a place that confines you.” He looked up from tightening the leather strap to the forearm plate, using his teeth to help him. “I am free,” he muttered through teeth clenched to the leather strap.

“Having a ho
me doesn’t mean you aren’t free,” I argued. I didn’t care for the haughty way he looked at me, so I added supercilious to his extensive list of qualities. “Besides, home is where your family is; it’s where you
belong
.” 

He snorted, which only atteste
d to my previous observation. “Family is only another restraint that keeps you incarcerated. Your grandfather was a perfect example,” he said insolently, looking at me with a smug look and sending a rush of anger through me; he had no right to bring that up. “As for belonging,” he continued, “that proves my point, I do not
belong
anywhere. I go where I please.” He pulled the heavy chainmail over his head, adjusting it tightly onto the gambeson.