Marak walked to his mother and embraced her. “I will not go,” he stated simply.
He grabbed her hand and led her off the path to a clear area between two trees where they could sit. He gently lowered her to the ground and sat down beside her.
“Mother, it is not right to forbid us the opportunity to talk,” Marak began. “I have sorely missed you and if there is a price to pay for the pleasure of your company for a little while, I will pay it.”
“But, they will make you a slave,” Glenda protested. “I do not want to live to see my son a slave. You must go back.”
“Enough talk about what they will do,” sighed Marak. “I am already here and the punishment is no greater for a longer visit. I want to know about you, not what Lord Ridak wants.”
Glenda hugged her son and cried. “You are so much like your father,” she sobbed, “stubborn as a wasooki and as brave as the mightiest warrior. I know you watch me from the orchard. I wish you wouldn’t. It makes my burden harder to bear. You must get on with your own life and forget me. I am paying the price of my own foolishness and there is no need for you to feel bad about my predicament. Look at you, a Squad Leader at such a young age. You make me proud.”
“What about you, Mother,” quizzed Marak. “You seem to be moving slower when I watch you these days. Are you feeling well?”
“You are observant,” sighed Glenda. “My body is not as young as it once was, but I get around all right. I have no particular ailments, just a need for more rest than before.”
“I vow to get you out of here,” declared Marak. “If it is the last thing that I do, you shall be free again.”
“Hush,” ordered Glenda as she wrapped her arms around her son’s neck. “You should never make such a vow. If anyone other than I heard it, you would be tending the fields alongside me. Where is your father’s necklace? You should be wearing it.”
“It is in my keepbox in the barracks,” Marak said. “There were too many questions about it and I decided it would be safer in the keepbox than around my neck.”
“Wear it,” ordered Glenda. “It is all you have to remind you of him. Keep it next to your heart always.”
“Why do I need to be reminded of him?” barked Marak. “In the fourteen years you have been captive, he has never tried to see you. If he is not dead, he deserves to be.”
Marak never expected the slap that stung his cheek. “Never talk that way about him,” she scolded. “He was the best man I have ever met and you should strive to be like him. He does not know what happened to me. He was told that I am dead. It was the only way I could think of to protect him. Lord Ridak would have killed him as soon as he showed himself. I can live with my punishment, but I could not live knowing my actions had killed him. I only wish I had been able to leave you with him. He loved you so and the two of you would have gotten along well together.”
“I’m sorry, Mother,” apologized Marak. “I have no memories of him now. It is hard to appreciate a father you have never known. I know he did not live on the estate with us. Where did he live and why didn’t he live on the estate at Forest Deep?”
Sounds from outside the fence of the slave compound silenced Glenda’s answer. “You must go now, if you are to get free,” she whispered. “Do not come again. Whenever you make Cortain, it will be soon enough for me.”
Glenda kissed Marak gently and rose. Within seconds she was back on the path returning to her shack. Marak stood and strained to hear which direction the noises were coming from. Unable to pinpoint the direction of the noise, Marak headed through the trees to an open area near the fence and vaulted over it. Taking a long loop away from the slave shacks, Marak walked through the orchard to the trail which led to the creek. He stopped at the creek and cupped the cold, clear water into his hands and rinsed his face. He waited a while before taking the path which led back to the barracks.
As he neared the barracks, Squad Leader Rybak walked by and grinned a malicious smile. Marak knew that meant trouble. For a few stolen moments with his mother, Marak was going to pay back years of hard work. He ignored Rybak and entered the barracks. Most of the men were already sleeping and the few who were not did not meet his gaze. He opened the door to the officer’s communal area and was not surprised to see Cortain Koors sitting with Squad Leader Tagoro. Tagoro’s face told the tale neatly. His pained expression and the Cortain’s unusual glee sealed Marak’s fate.
“Where have you been, Squad Leader Marak?” sang Cortain Koors.
“I am off duty,” Marak stated. “My movements are not subject to your scrutiny.”
“Well,” chuckled Koors, “that depends on what your movements were, doesn’t it? Tell me where you were and I will decide if it is any of my business.”
“I went for a walk,” Marak stated simply.
“And where did this walk take you?” questioned Koors.
“Into the woods and down by the creek,” Marak said.
“All right,” spat Cortain Koors, “let’s stop playing games, Squad Leader. Did you enter the slave compound this evening?”
“Yes,” surrendered Marak.
“As I already knew,” Koors offered. “It is time for us to speak with the Lord Marshal, Squad Leader. Although I doubt I shall be calling you by that title much longer. I knew your kind was not to be trusted and I have waited for this slip of yours for a long time. Finally, you will be placed where you deserve to be placed, in the shacks with your mother. Let’s go, slave Marak. We have a meeting to attend with the Lord Marshal.”
Marak turned around and marched back through the barracks. He heard Koors behind him ordering Tagoro not to mention anything to anybody until he was given leave to do so. Obviously, Koors wanted the pleasure of informing everyone himself. Marak picked up his stride in a last measure of defiance and smiled when he heard Koors huffing to keep up without appearing to be running after Marak. When Marak reached the mansion, Squad Leader Rybak was on the porch with the same malicious grin and Marak simply passed him and entered the mansion.
Once in the entry foyer, Marak stopped and waited for Koors. The Cortain entered the foyer and stopped to catch his breath. Marak felt a small amount of satisfaction in causing the Cortain some discomfort. The man was supposed to be a military man and not overweight and out of shape. Marak felt Koors would be better suited to watching the kitchen staff.
The Cortain caught his breath and led the way through the entry foyer to the Lord Marshal’s suite. He knocked and heard the answering call permitting him to enter. Koors puffed up his chest and led the way into Grefon’s suite. The door opened into a sitting room which was austere for the mansion. The floor was wooden as were the walls and both were elegant. The only furniture in the room was a pair of chairs with a small table between them. There were two doors off the sitting room, one on each side of the room. The door to the sleeping quarters was closed, but the door to the Lord Marshal’s study was open and the glow of a lantern showed on the floor.
Koors led Marak into the study and saluted. The study, by contrast, was quite busy. Grefon’s desk was a rich fargi wood, polished to a reflective surface, and quite massive. Three walls were lined with bookshelves, while the fourth held a couch, table and reading chair. Above the couch was a large wall map of Khadora. The Lord Marshal was at his desk and Marshal Garouk was sitting in a chair in front of the desk. Grefon indicated that the pair should enter and Marshal Garouk excused himself, closing the door as he left. The Lord Marshal waited patiently to discover the nature of the unusual visit.
“Lord Marshal,” Cortain Koors began, “we have a disciplinary matter to discuss.”
Grefon shook his head and stared at the two men whom he knew to be at odds with each other. “Does this matter concern any of our guests?” the Lord Marshal asked.
“No, Lord Marshal, it concerns Squad Leader Marak,” declared Koors.
“If the matter is internal to Lituk Valley,” stated Grefon, “it should wait until the meeting days are over and our guests have returned home.”