The Slave Master said, “That’s it. The dragons! You made them attack and burn everything so I couldn’t learn about you. I always wondered why they attacked the camp.”
“My wish was to burn you with the wagons and bodies you laid out in a row to inventory like counting so many coins in your purse. We have waited for years for you to bring justice.”
“Speaking of coins in my purse, how many to buy my freedom?”
Camilla sensed the sneer and disdain in his voice. Her anger grew, and her hands shifted slightly on the staff. Before any could prevent her, she started a turn that would bring the staff into position. He wouldn’t pay his way out of this.
Edward moved first. Despite his tied hands, he spun and kicked the Slave Master, his foot landing high on the left thigh. The Slave Master fell back one step and then went to the ground. Edward kicked again, despite several hands already were pulling him back. His second kick took the Slave Master in the ribs. Edward went to the ground, three people on top of him.
The staff in Camilla’s hand moved as if of its own accord. The end that had been resting on the ground shot out and struck the Slave Master on the side of his head with a sickening sound. She let the momentum of the staff swing it high until it was above her head. Both her hands held it, ready to drive it down.
Nobody moved to prevent her from the fatal blow.
She lowered the staff, confused. She had expected them to stop her, and she was prepared to fight back. Their lack of reaction stilled her. She had been prepared to bring the staff down in a death-blow. At least, she told herself she was.
“It’s your life to take,” Myron said, leaning on his staff and watching her closely.
She shook her head.
Myron’s staff shot out faster than she could see and in a single blow crushed the Slave Master’s skull almost as easily as he might tap his staff on a tree to determine if it was hollow. “Then it is mine.”
The shock of the sudden action stilled everyone even more. Brix finally turned away, stumbled into nearby bushes and puked. Camilla fell to her knees, not knowing what to say or do. Everything was happening so fast.
Myron stepped forward to face Edward.
Robin leaped between them. “Stop. This is a good man.”
“Good? He will be Earl one day soon, and serve the King. How is that good?” Myron roared.
Camilla stood and stepped beside Robin, her foot nearly touching the dead Slave Master. She shook her head.
Robin said, “King Ember is old. The young Earl will advise the new King. Edward is a friend of the king-in-waiting, I’ve heard. It would be good to have a friend with the ear of the new king.”
“Why would this man be our friend? Because we allow him to live? More likely he’ll return to the palace and ask his friend to send troops to wipe us out.” Myron said, his voice lower, but just as intense.
Robin said, “I say he is valuable to you and your people, or, at least, he is no worse than his replacement would be.”
Edward, who had been pinned to the ground by three men, rolled to his knees and stood. Nobody attempted to prevent him. He stepped between Robin and Camilla, shouldering his way through. “This is not your fight,” he said to them.
“Will you offer to buy your life, too?” Myron asked.
Edward shook his head. “No. But they’re right, I’ll be a better friend than a corpse. I have never done any wrong to you or your people, but do as you must.” He fell to his knees and lowered his eyes to the ground, hands still tied behind.
Myron spun and stalked away. After several steps, he called without turning his head, “Bring them all.”
Brix moved to Robin’s side, “What now?”
Camilla asked, “These are my people?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Brix, Camilla, and Robin walked together. Down the hillside, a small group of thatched-roof stone huts appeared in the small valley. It sat beside a fast flowing stream too wide to leap. The huts were simple, made of flat rocks that broke easily from the closest cliff. All flat land was cultivated, and crops abounded. Cattle, sheep, goats, dogs, chickens, geese, and others roamed freely.
People waited for them. Word must have been sent to them. Women, children, and more men stood and watched them approach. Camilla felt the eyes on her as much as she felt a red dragon flying above her. The group drifted closer to the stream.
Camilla saw a ring of stumps, crude chairs, and logs placed in a half-circle, a rock shelf; a place for the speaker to stand. She did a quick count. Thirty adults, twelve children and a few babies.
A boy of about seven ran to the path in front of them and paused long enough to pull his leather shirt over his head to expose his back. A red dragon seemed to writhe. Not as pretty or fierce as mine. Camilla quelled the urge to show hers, but the attraction to someone that not only had a dragon on his back but a red one was unmistakable.
Myron strode directly to the ridge of rock and waited. When he judged all were present and seated, he spoke. “The Slave Master is dead.”
A few smiled, but no cheers broke the afternoon warmth.
His eyes turned to Camilla. “We don’t yet know the full story, but this is Camilla. She is one of us.”
Pleasant murmurs and a few claps welcomed her. Myron went on quickly, “The woman is Robin, who was the lover of Pylori. She is welcome here, as is the boy, Brix. He too will tell his story, but not now.”
All eyes turned to Edward.
Myron said, “This man will one day be the Earl. Robin thinks he may be our friend. But this is a decision I cannot make without you. We kill him or release him. Debate?”
A young man bounced to his feet before anyone else could talk. “I say kill him. If we let him go, he’ll tell them where we live.”
“A good point,” Myron said. “However, the Weapons Master accompanied him most of the way here and knows where he left the King’s road, and the direction the Slave Master took. The Weapons Master will bring hundreds of soldiers to scour the land until they find the Slave Master and our valley.”
A woman stood, “Then we have to flee this valley.”
Robin stepped to the side of Myron. “Fleeing is probably the right thing to do, but this valley is safe, as it has been for so many years. Outside, what will you find?”
“Better to run and hide than be killed by the King’s men,” an unknown voice shouted.
Myron turned to Robin. “What are you proposing?”
“I have an idea. It’s said the son of the Earl is honorable. What can he offer?” She asked, looking only at him.
Edward had seated himself on the end of a log, and nobody had sat near him. He slowly stood and walked to the ridge and stepped up where all could see him. “I can offer little. I will tell you how the Weapons Master and Slave Masters have mistreated me my whole life. They poked fun and embarrassed me in front of others. That might not sound like much to you, but I want to be respected.”
“Your problems. How can you help us?” A woman with an infant near the front asked, her voice sounding reasonable.
Edward shrugged. “Your people have never done any harm to me or to anyone I know. If I have to choose my friends between the King’s men and you, I choose you.”
Myron said, “The Weapons Master still knows the general area where we live.”