She ate much more slowly this time, trying to put off the inevitable. The sun had set, though the western sky still held a hint of light. Cobb, for his part, waited patiently for her to finish.
She was full when she spooned the very last of the bean juice into her mouth. She looked at the empty plate for a moment, then shyly up at Cobb. He was watching her with an intensity that made her uneasy.
“You won’t hurt me?” she asked again.
“No,” he said huskily, shaking his head. He stood and placed a few more pieces of driftwood on the fire, then turned to her. Samantha lay back on the rock and opened the blanket for his eyes. He stared at her a moment, then pulled down his long underwear.
“I don’t hurt girls,” he whispered, hovering over her, and surprisingly he did not. He moved slow and easy the entire time and only let out a small grunt as he finished. He rolled off of her breathing heavily. Samantha expected to have the overwhelming desire to wash herself like she did after the Executioner had taken her, but when he was done, all she felt was tired. Good to his word, Cobb was soon snoring softly at her back. Sam lay awake for a time, thinking of how much her life had changed these past days, and as the night grew colder she moved closer to Cobb’s large warm body and slowly drifted off to sleep.
ǂ
Gwaynn and Krys found the Lonogan Lumber Mill easily. It was a very large place built directly alongside the banks of the river, with stacks of unprocessed trees piled near a great open ended mill that housed enormous saws, some of which were powered by large waterwheels tucked into the Scar River. There were also dozens of two handed saws powered by men. The smell of freshly cut wood permeated the air as they entered the mill, walking on a soft layer of thick sawdust. They immediately attracted a great deal of attention, and more than a dozen cutters stopped what they were doing to observe the newcomers. However, the two were near the middle of the mill before an extremely large man approached them. The man was easily the largest person Gwaynn had ever met, even bigger than Karl. He was at least a full head taller than Krys, who was a tall young man, but it was the width of his shoulders and thickness of his neck, arms and wrists which truly made him massive. The man had long dark hair which was pulled back and secured with a leather thong behind his back.
The man eyed the two up as he walked toward them. “Looking for work?”
He asked without a smile. He seemed even bigger close up.
“No,” Gwaynn said, taking the lead. “Are you Lonogan Bock?”
The large man let out a bark of a laugh. “Not likely. Name’s Lee Brandt. I’m the foreman of the mill.”
He announced this with obvious pride and held out a hand to Gwaynn, who took it. Lee Brandt immediately began to squeeze…hard. It was his favorite technique, simple, straightforward and very effective. Those who sought Bock had to get through him, and he wasn’t about to let any young pup waltz in and disturb his boss, the greatest person alive in his estimation.
Gwaynn winched and bent over, his free hand going to his other wrist. Lee smiled and squeezed harder, watching as his victim bent down and forward. He waited for either the kicks to begin or for the youngster to fall to his knees in submission. He was ready to protect himself from the kicks, but Gwaynn did neither instead he slowly stood back up.
“Release me,” the young man demanded; his jaw tight from the pain.
Lee laughed and squeezed just a might harder, waiting for the kick.
It never came, instead the stranger tried to pull his hand from Lee’s. The big man smiled and his grip tightened further, but then in easy, practiced movements the young man pulled Lee’s arm straight, turned it slightly then stepped across his body to Lee’s right. Lee’s arm was now somehow twisted, but held straight. He felt the young man’s other hand against the back of his straightened elbow. The hand began to push against the joint, and to Lee’s surprise he was being forced to bend forward, then down to keep from having his arm snapped at the joint. He squeezed the hand in his grip harder, but still he was being forced downward, first to his knees, then his head and face were actually touching the sawdust on the floor. Belated he tried to strike out with his other hand, but his own body effectively blocked any such counter strike. Lee was face down in the dirt looking directly at the muddy boots of the young man who surprisingly had the upper hand. Lee grunted with pain as the force on his elbow continued. The strange young man began to ply greater and greater pressure to his elbow until Lee felt positive that it was very near breaking.
“Can you crush my hand before I snap your arm in two?” Gwaynn said evenly despite the pain pulsing from his injured hand. He stared directly into the face of the big man, who must have seen something deadly in the eyes of the younger one above him, because he immediately released Gwaynn’s hand. Gwaynn had to force himself not to sigh with relief, but he did flex his injured hand several times. He kept hold of Lee Brandt’s elbow for a moment longer before finally releasing him and stepping away. Lee did not know it, but at that moment he had never been so close to death, it would only take a slight error in judgment for the Black Horseman to reach out and take him. But to his credit, Lee made no error; he just simply stood up rubbing his arm and looking at the pair of young men who he’d obviously underestimated.
“Where’s Lonogan Bock?” Gwaynn asked again, his hand very close to his knife.
“Who’s asking?”
Gwaynn relaxed a bit. If the big man was talking he was not likely to attack again, but still he kept alert. There was now a small crowd around them, and their faces were not exactly friendly.
“My name’s Gwaynn,” he finally answered and was aware that Krys had bent over and with a smooth motion removed his kali from his bag. There were gasps from the crowd of men surrounding him, and a few even took a couple of steps back. Krys twirled the weapons in a mindless display that proved nothing of the fighting skills of those who performed them, but he knew it would impress the laymen of the group. It did.
“And this is my Weapons Master, Krys Logan,” Gwaynn added with a shake of his head at his friend’s antics.
“Weapons Master?” asked a voice from the right behind the circle of men. They parted immediately and let a middle-aged blond man walk through to join those in the center of the ring.
Gwaynn said nothing just turned to examine the new arrival. From the demeanor of the men around him, he gathered that this was at last Lonogan Bock. Bock was younger than he expected, only around thirty years of age, but had an air of command about him that left no doubt who led these men. He was tall, though only a bit taller than Krys, and was powerfully built, with a strong chest and bulky arms, but even he looked small next to Lee Brandt.
“Weapons Master?” Bock asked again. “It’s a term only royalty uses,” he added coming to a stop, then he glanced at Krys. “Kali have been outlawed by the Deutzani.”
“The Deutzani don’t rule me,” Gwaynn answered forcefully.
Bock laughed a quick short laugh but then sobered almost immediately. “Don’t they? And just what did you say your name was again?”