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LJI F&R 6: When you live for someone...
Jan. 29th, 2016 12:03 pmPart 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
The sound Malon's knife made as its tip struck the table caused Usha to stir in my arms. The next sound—of Malon's voice—caused her to come awake, and I could feel a sudden great tension develop in her shoulders.
"You!" She flung the word at him. Her eyes had narrowed, her jaw had clenched, and if the vitriol that accompanied the word had been real, Malon would have quickly been rendered into atoms.
Malon said nothing for a while, continuing to simply smile at the two of us, as if admiring an ornament of some kind. He took a bite of the bread he had carved with the knife that was now embedded in the table, swallowed, and then he pursed his lips for a moment. Then he spoke, softly. "Absolutely right, my pretties." Then his expression changed, his face became hard, and he said: "Me!"
He got up, strode to where we lay on the floor against the cabin wall, and lifted Usha by the arm until her feet left the floor. I made objection by wrapping my arms around his legs, but he cuffed me on the side of my head and I fell away from him, onto my stomach. I saw stars, but recovered quickly enough to hide the dagger I had removed from a sheath affixed to his boot before he grabbed me by the nape of my neck. He then planted me against the skirting with my legs splayed in front of me and my back against the wall.
Malon held the struggling Usha at arm's length as he stepped back to the table and wiggled the knife free, and then stepped back toward me, continuing to hold Usha as if she was a wriggling fish. I watched his tongue as it flickered out from between his lips, moistening them in anticipation, and then he reversed the knife in his hand and tapped Usha sharply on the head with its handle, as one would a fish. Usha lost consciousness, and in my mind, I felt certain that he was now going to gut her, as one would a fish.
"Wait!" I cried. "Why?" I asked, articulating the question that attached itself to the end of my train of thought. Malon looked at me, surprised at the question.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Why do you want to kill her?" I said.
"Kill her?" he said, and then laughed, after a moment. "Heavens, no, lad. I have no wish to kill her. Quite the opposite, in fact, if I find what I'm looking for." He turned his attention back to the limp form he as holding and, reversing the knife once again, quickly cut away Usha's frock, which collapsed onto the floor leaving her naked to his sight—and mine. I did my best not to stare at Usha's nakedness, but it was hard to keep my eyes averted. It seemed to me she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and my eyes were filling with blood in rebellion at the way Malon was treating her.
My temper was near the breaking point when Lascaux's voice intruded. You know, Feather, when you decide you're going to live for someone, you're prepared to die for them... but be very selective of who you live for, because you may, indeed, be called upon to die for them! I ignored the meddlesome voice and prepared to act, come what may and whatever the cost.
Malon must have sensed that I was getting ready to rush at him, for he turned his head to me, pointed the knife in my direction, and said, "No need for anything stupid, boy. I have no desire to defile the girl, either." He turned his head to again look at Usha, and then back at me again. He gave a conspiratorial wink. "At least not now," he added, sotto voce, and barked a laugh. I took hold of my passions.
He stuck the knife in his belt and turned Usha around, inspecting her body as one might inspect the carcass of a prize sheep. As her back came into view, I saw there was some kind of design on her skin, resembling a tattoo of some kind, but much larger. Malon saw it too and grunted, and then bent down, gently laying Usha on the floor, next to her clothes.
"Get her dressed," he said to me, pointing at the pile of fabric, and then he whistled loudly, twice. As I scrabbled over to Usha's unconscious form and picked up her dress, two of his gang came in the door. Malon spoke to them.
"Take them back to town. Make sure you get there by daybreak. Then lock them in separate rooms," he said. "If the lad gives you trouble, slit his throat. If anything happens to the girl, I'll slit your throats. Understood?" The men grunted their assent, stepped outside the cabin, and returned a few moments later with two lengths of stout rope.
They waited until I had finished dressing Usha and then used the rope to tie us up. They then lifted us onto their shoulders and took us outside, where they put us in the back of a horse-drawn cart, on top of some bags of grain. Shortly thereafter, the taller of our two captors climbed onto the cart's seat and took the reins while the other set out ahead of us with a lantern to light the way, and in this manner, we all departed for town.
As we progressed along the road, I mentally thanked Master Lascaux for teaching me how to gain the necessary slack while someone tied me up with rope, because by the time the man with the lantern had taken up his station ahead of the cart, I had freed myself of my bonds and retrieved the dagger I had secreted after, um, purloining it from Malon's boot. I quietly checked on Usha, and though her color was good and her breathing was not labored, she was still unconscious.
I loosely looped the rope back around myself and sat back, in case the driver glanced back to check on us, and considered my options. I could easily use the dagger now to cut the driver's throat, but then how would I deal with the other member of Malon's gang, the one out in front of the cart with the lantern?
I had to decide quickly, as I perceived the first faint traces of dawn in the east. If the cart was to gain the town by daybreak, I had less than an hour in which to act.
I thumbed the edge of the dagger and weighed my alternatives.
To: Part 7. Chiaroscuro...
The sound Malon's knife made as its tip struck the table caused Usha to stir in my arms. The next sound—of Malon's voice—caused her to come awake, and I could feel a sudden great tension develop in her shoulders.
"You!" She flung the word at him. Her eyes had narrowed, her jaw had clenched, and if the vitriol that accompanied the word had been real, Malon would have quickly been rendered into atoms.
Malon said nothing for a while, continuing to simply smile at the two of us, as if admiring an ornament of some kind. He took a bite of the bread he had carved with the knife that was now embedded in the table, swallowed, and then he pursed his lips for a moment. Then he spoke, softly. "Absolutely right, my pretties." Then his expression changed, his face became hard, and he said: "Me!"
He got up, strode to where we lay on the floor against the cabin wall, and lifted Usha by the arm until her feet left the floor. I made objection by wrapping my arms around his legs, but he cuffed me on the side of my head and I fell away from him, onto my stomach. I saw stars, but recovered quickly enough to hide the dagger I had removed from a sheath affixed to his boot before he grabbed me by the nape of my neck. He then planted me against the skirting with my legs splayed in front of me and my back against the wall.
Malon held the struggling Usha at arm's length as he stepped back to the table and wiggled the knife free, and then stepped back toward me, continuing to hold Usha as if she was a wriggling fish. I watched his tongue as it flickered out from between his lips, moistening them in anticipation, and then he reversed the knife in his hand and tapped Usha sharply on the head with its handle, as one would a fish. Usha lost consciousness, and in my mind, I felt certain that he was now going to gut her, as one would a fish.
"Wait!" I cried. "Why?" I asked, articulating the question that attached itself to the end of my train of thought. Malon looked at me, surprised at the question.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Why do you want to kill her?" I said.
"Kill her?" he said, and then laughed, after a moment. "Heavens, no, lad. I have no wish to kill her. Quite the opposite, in fact, if I find what I'm looking for." He turned his attention back to the limp form he as holding and, reversing the knife once again, quickly cut away Usha's frock, which collapsed onto the floor leaving her naked to his sight—and mine. I did my best not to stare at Usha's nakedness, but it was hard to keep my eyes averted. It seemed to me she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and my eyes were filling with blood in rebellion at the way Malon was treating her.
My temper was near the breaking point when Lascaux's voice intruded. You know, Feather, when you decide you're going to live for someone, you're prepared to die for them... but be very selective of who you live for, because you may, indeed, be called upon to die for them! I ignored the meddlesome voice and prepared to act, come what may and whatever the cost.
Malon must have sensed that I was getting ready to rush at him, for he turned his head to me, pointed the knife in my direction, and said, "No need for anything stupid, boy. I have no desire to defile the girl, either." He turned his head to again look at Usha, and then back at me again. He gave a conspiratorial wink. "At least not now," he added, sotto voce, and barked a laugh. I took hold of my passions.
He stuck the knife in his belt and turned Usha around, inspecting her body as one might inspect the carcass of a prize sheep. As her back came into view, I saw there was some kind of design on her skin, resembling a tattoo of some kind, but much larger. Malon saw it too and grunted, and then bent down, gently laying Usha on the floor, next to her clothes.
"Get her dressed," he said to me, pointing at the pile of fabric, and then he whistled loudly, twice. As I scrabbled over to Usha's unconscious form and picked up her dress, two of his gang came in the door. Malon spoke to them.
"Take them back to town. Make sure you get there by daybreak. Then lock them in separate rooms," he said. "If the lad gives you trouble, slit his throat. If anything happens to the girl, I'll slit your throats. Understood?" The men grunted their assent, stepped outside the cabin, and returned a few moments later with two lengths of stout rope.
They waited until I had finished dressing Usha and then used the rope to tie us up. They then lifted us onto their shoulders and took us outside, where they put us in the back of a horse-drawn cart, on top of some bags of grain. Shortly thereafter, the taller of our two captors climbed onto the cart's seat and took the reins while the other set out ahead of us with a lantern to light the way, and in this manner, we all departed for town.
As we progressed along the road, I mentally thanked Master Lascaux for teaching me how to gain the necessary slack while someone tied me up with rope, because by the time the man with the lantern had taken up his station ahead of the cart, I had freed myself of my bonds and retrieved the dagger I had secreted after, um, purloining it from Malon's boot. I quietly checked on Usha, and though her color was good and her breathing was not labored, she was still unconscious.
I loosely looped the rope back around myself and sat back, in case the driver glanced back to check on us, and considered my options. I could easily use the dagger now to cut the driver's throat, but then how would I deal with the other member of Malon's gang, the one out in front of the cart with the lantern?
I had to decide quickly, as I perceived the first faint traces of dawn in the east. If the cart was to gain the town by daybreak, I had less than an hour in which to act.
I thumbed the edge of the dagger and weighed my alternatives.
To: Part 7. Chiaroscuro...
