The Pearl Savage (34 page)

Bracus rushed over to his side. “My
brother, let me take the blade.”

Philip nodded and Bracus turned to
James. “Get the healing sack.”

James was already rummaging through
the odd knapsack of the Band when he pulled out some gauzy material
made of fine-colored beige linen and a small apothecary bottle which
held amber-colored liquid. A large needle and thread were gathered
and brought to Bracus.

Jacob stepped forward. “I will do
it. I have the steadiest hand, Captain.”

Bracus nodded, taking up position
behind Philip’s head, cradling it while Jacob put a leather belt by
his mouth. “Open up brother, this will give you something to bite
down on.”

Phillip did.

Matthew put his arm around Clara’s
shoulders and she leaned into his body, Bracus’ eyes taking them in,
a cold shadow residing where none had been before. Clara shivered and
Matthew drew her in tighter.

In one smooth movement, Jacob pulled
out the knife and with a shrieking shout, muffled by the belt, Philip
began to sweat in earnest, rivulets running down his face. Jack and
James were on either side of him, their hands gripping his that were
white-knuckled. Clara saw with real alarm that it was four inch long
blade. They stared, the gaping hole looking like an open mouth. As
they stood staring, the whiteness of the hole started to fill with
bright blood and Jacob poured some of the liquid from the vial into
the gash, the needle and thread moving in and out of the deepest part
of the wound that he could reach. Dabbing at the slash, pouring the
fluid inside, stitching then repeating the process, all the while
precious blood pouring out.

It was a miracle that Philip
remained awake.

Jacob worked feverishly, closing the
lethal escape hatch that was Philip’s side, his mouth set in a grim
line as Clara looked around her.

There she was, Evelyn, looking pale
and ill. Her small body lay wrapped in a blanket not five feet from
where they repaired Philip. Clara nudged Matthew and he looked down
at her, his expression a mixture of stress, relief and something she
could not name. “May I check on Evelyn?”

Matthew
nodded, reluctantly releasing her, his hand lingering on her waist
before she slipped out of his grasp. She had felt so right against
his side
.
He watched her as she made her way through the bodies of the
fragment
,
their limbs entangled with one another like puppets cut from their
strings, throats slit, some with cuts under their knees to slow their
escape.
Matthew thought of all this dispassionately, he was only sorry that
he could not kill the men named Ralph and Claude himself, for they
were part of Margaret’s degradation, the finality of her life.

But there were others.

Eventually, they would all die under
his blade for what they had done.

Bracus
watched the two of them from his vantage point on the ground,
becoming more disturbed as time went. How was a male as Matthew was,
quiet to the point of being taciturn
,
suddenly
so intimate with Clara? Who had treated even he, Bracus, her rescuer
,
with
extreme caution? It galled him and he intended to find out. He looked
down at his brother, who would heal this wound. It took much to kill
one of the Band. As Bracus watched
the
wound had stopped bleeding, some color returning to Philip’s
cheekbones, the sickened color leeching away.

Jacob finished his ministrations and
nodding, mostly to himself. “That will do, I think his major organs
were missed.”

“
Fool,
it does not feel as though anything was missed, feels like the sod
got a bit of
everything
,
”
Philip said sourly.

The tension broke as the Band
laughed.

Philip would live to fight another
day, Bracus thought.

James fetched an additional blanket
and rolled up another for under his head. Jack got the water flask
for Bracus to give Philip a pull of water.

The Band looked at Matthew and he
fought not to reveal his discomfort. Then they looked at where Clara
was, talking softly to Evelyn.

“What say you?” Bracus asked
fiercely, as a flush of red colored Matthew’s cheeks, making the Band
narrow their focus even more.

He could not stop his body’s
betrayal. He was awkward with these new emotions coursing through
him. Matthew understood what he had done was wrong. It was a matter
of time before Stephen and Joseph would find them and speak of his
betrayal.

But they were not here now. He would
stall. Gain some time to organize his thoughts. Which at present,
were a riot inside his head.

Matthew opened his mouth to
formulate a semblance of an explanation when two men appeared out of
the woods.

Matthew recognized one immediately.

Sphere-dweller.

Instantly, the Band stood and faced
the two men as Clara slowly rose from her crouched position next to
Evelyn.

When Charles and Clarence appeared
out of the forest Clara felt as a woman that sees a mirage in a
desert and with it, a relief so profound she sunk back to the ground
covering her face as she wept in blatant relief; Charles was here.

That is not how the Band assimilated
Charles and Clarence’s appearance. Daggers unsheathed, they
surrounded the pair.

Charles
spotted Clara right away, on the ground, crying like her heart was
broken. What in Guardian’s name was amiss?
Taking
a step toward her he felt a strong hand encircle his forearm.

He turned and looked at Clarence.
“Let me go, I must go to her.”

“Caution, my friend, look yonder,”
Clarence said quietly, inclining his head in the direction of the
Band.

Charles
could see what he meant. The Band surrounded them at all points
except behind. Every one of them had a similar stance, all but two
were present. Charles’ eyes flicked to a huge male laying on the
ground,
apparently
injured with another
savage
beside
him. A weapon naked in his hand.

They were ready to kill him, Charles
thought. He looked at Clara who had stopped sobbing and was moving
toward him, picking up her skirts she ran.

Clara
had finally gotten a hold of her emotion. It would not do to have the
Band kill Charles and Clarence for mistaking them for the
fragment
or some such. She hiked up her skirt and ran faster.

As she neared them she sailed past
Bracus who grabbed her and pulled her against his body and with a
gasp she was held in a grip that was almost painful. She was so close
to Charles, only two horse lengths, yet she was held by the Band. Did
they not remember him as her companion? He meant no harm to her!

Matthew
turned to Bracus and growled, lowering his stance as if to attack and
Bracus looked back at Matthew flabbergasted. What was this?
And
then Clara’s bare flesh touched his wrist and he felt it, the heat
climbing his body and knew what it was that he held:

A
select
.

“
Unhand
her!” Charles roared, taking a menacing step toward the
savage
which held Clara against her will. A movement to his right caused
him
to duck just as a fist grazed his head, the glancing blow making his
ears ring.

“No!” Clara screamed, tearing
herself out of the dazed grasp of Bracus, who stumbled back as if
pegged between the eyes with a hammer of brass.

She
stepped in the middle of the fray. Matthew was grabbing Charles by
the blouse and hauling him off the ground by its neck, Matthew, at
least six inches taller, and Charles was no small man
.
Dismissing the danger, she threw herself between them, pushing a hand
against the middle of Matthew’s chest, the heat of her palm warming
him, leeching the
aggression
out of him. He had the male within his grasp, his face a foot from
his own. But as he looked down, it was Clara’s face that filled his
vision, captured his mind, made him realize he was going to kill this
male simply because he was near her.

Matthew
lowered the
sphere-dweller
to
the pasture grass, his face beet red and gasping for breath. Charles
put a hand to his own throat as he backed away, Clarence behind him.
He looked at the other faces of the
savages
,
who watched him warily but not aggressively. After all, apparently
one of them was all that would have been needed to dispatch the both
of them. Good Guardian, they were strong, like the oxen of old.

Clara looked up into Matthew’s face,
his fierce eyes wild and she kept staring, seeing a softening around
the edges. Finally his shoulders relaxed, he lowered the dagger to
his side and she let her fingers trail down his chest then away.

“He is my dearest friend… I
must… I wish to go to him.”

Matthew’s heart raced and he
clenched the dagger until the hilt creaked in his hand.

Clara saw that wildness start to
creep back into his gaze and quickly said, “Just for a time.”

Matthew looked at Charles and nodded
reluctantly, his eyes never leaving hers.

Clara
began walking backward keeping her eyes locked on Matthew… all the
Band. Bracus was looking at her most strangely
.
It
was up to her to defuse things, she had ample practice
.

Turning, she threw her arms around
Charles. Her relief and love for him a cloak of intense comfort that
she shrugged on, wrapping herself in its embrace.

Charles
had never felt a moment of more intense joy than when he held Clara
in his arms once more. Unshed tears of relief burned his eyes and he
held them in check by the barest thread. He breathed deeply of her,
smelling the strange freshness that was
Outside
.
Sweat,
fresh earth and
beneath
it all, his Clara. He stroked her hair and murmured those things when
you wish someone you hold dear to feel safe.

Clara had no such compunction. Fat
tears chased each other down her face. She cried and laughed, hugging
him with such abandon and delight that the Band sheathed their
swords. Bracus and Matthew both stared at them with a mixture of
irritation and unhappiness.

He cupped her face. “You look
well, my Clara.” his gaze roved over the healing marks upon her
face.

She nodded. “Aye, as well as I can
be,” she said through laughter and tears, thinking of what she had
been put through and narrowly escaped.

Charles saw that her lovely eyes
were healed, the swelling completely gone. Only the horrible bruise
in a kaleidoscope of faded green and yellow remained. He couldn’t
help his frown, laying a tender finger, the touch of which reminded
Clara of when Matthew touched her the same way. But it had been
different, very different indeed.

She backed away, suddenly
uncomfortable… aware.

“It heals,” Clara said
dismissively.

Charles nodded, not wanting her out
of his embrace but allowing her distance. Claiming this
self-restraint was not a pretty thing he realized, forcing an
expression of neutrality.

Clara noticed Clarence for the first
time and felt acutely embarrassed. She nodded to him. “Clarence, it
is good of you to accompany Charles.”

He
shrugged glancing at the
savages,
eyes guarded. “Greetings, Princess,” he said, bowing.

She curtseyed in her ruined
clothing, feeling ridiculous but absolutely compelled in her royal
bearing to reciprocate.

Matthew
watched in fascination as Clara seemed to be another person entirely.
She seemed confident,
regal
.
Perhaps when she was not being kidnapped and assaulted she was able
to just be who she was.

Clara
became aware of an awkwardness, everyone in the meadow battle-weary
and beleaguered. She must introduce them
.
She was the only one here that knew both peoples. She must form an
alliance in this unlikely place. Their president had said she would
serve as a liaison of sorts. Clara frowned, thinking of what awaited
her in the sphere. She was not sure that she was the best
representative. She shoved those thoughts aside. She looked from
Charles and Clarence to the Band. Then her eyes took on the
battlefield with bodies of the
fragment
laying about, lethargic flies buzzing above them for an easy meal.

Charles followed her gaze and saw
the corpses in various stages of decomposition. The lingering
violence clung to the meadow, the metallic smell of blood everywhere
he breathed.

“What happened here?” Charles
asked and Clarence grunted behind him.

Charles turned to Clarence who
spread his hands wide. “It is not obvious?” Charles rolled his
eyes, Clarence was always rash with his words.