A Sword Of Wrath, Book I - K. E. MacLeod (nonfiction book recommendations .TXT) 📗

towards his companion.

They had discovered the horses and immediately set upon them, devouring them in less than three minutes. After they were finished, the Gigantes returned to their own mounts and the leader lifted his arm in the air, howling as they continued down the path on to wherever their destination might have been.

When the last of their dust was well and truly in the distance, Moriana sprung from her spot and sang to the heavens, "Thank you Great Goddess! You who protect Her Children!" She laughed loudly then glanced down at Timonus as she offered him a hand, "You are white as the owls that fly around the caves at night, Legate."

"I... it's been a long time since I've been... in such a situation." He tried to slow his racing heart as he stood, "Why would the Giants ever come this far north?"

"I don't know," Moriana answered as she looked into the direction where they had ridden off. "Maybe they sense the darkness that is brewing throughout Lycania. I hope my sisters will be safe."

"But, the Giants, they aren't citizens of any country. They're thieves and murders and possibly not even human; what does it matter to them how the Empire goes?"

"Spolia opimia, Legate; the spoils of war. You should know that better than I." She looked around, "Well, we are now minus our horses. Luckily, those worthless brutes were too stupid to figure out that two riderless horses could possibly mean that the riders were nearby."

Timonus nodded, "Thank the Great Mother."

She looked at him, smiling slightly, "And Her Daughter."

"At this point, I'll thank whoever it was that saved us." He took a deep breath, "I suppose we should wait out the night, then return to Odalia."

"No," she shook her head firmly, "we should go on to Feronia."

"But, all of our supplies are gone."

A genuine smile crossed Moriana's blackened lips, "Yes, but I am not without my own resources, Legate."

As Timonus heart began to settle into a more natural rhythm within his chest, he realized arguing with the young woman would be pointless. Plus, there was a side of him that had enjoyed their brief brush with death. It had been a long time since he had felt such excitement and, for once, he was actually glad to be in the presence of the venefica. "Alright, on to Feronia we go, then."

 

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Chapter Three

Chapter Three

 

Morning dawned upon Two-Crows and Tacitus began it the same way he had begun every day for the past few weeks, by feeding and watering Bellona behind his house. He talked at length to the horse as he did, all about the mysteries of life, art and medicine and he soon discovered that their morning one-way chats were becoming quite an enjoyable habit for him. Tacitus had rarely been able to speak so freely without opposition - though, at times, he could swear it seemed as if the horse were answering him.

"Well, girl," he brushed her coat as the sun rose up over the treetops of the Aulus Forest, "I'm thinking it's almost time for us to head out into the desert. I've heard of a new species of Betony that might be growing there. I think it'll be good for Cinna's headaches. What do you think, girl?"

The horse glanced back at him and gave him a low nicker.

He laughed, "Yes, alright, maybe we're not ready just yet, but someday soon." Tacitus studied the fibers of Bellona's coat as he swept across it, making sure that they all lay in the same direction as the brush glided over her haunches. He had become so focused on this task that he never saw the determined figure of Nona furiously stalking towards him until it was too late. As she reached his side undetected, she pulled her arm back and launched a slap across his face.

He stared at her, his mouth open in shock as he gently touched the reddening cheek in disbelief, "...Nona?"

"How dare you?" she shouted at him angrily.

"Wait, what-"

"How dare you?" she repeated, her own face betraying a deep hurt that had just moments earlier rendered her maternal soul into pieces. "What gave you the right?"

"What are you talking about?"

Nona reached back to strike him again but he caught her wrist. She wrenched her arm free and shouted at him, "You gave him my daughter, you bastard!"

Tacitus' eyes closed as his body sagged with realization, "By the gods above, you mean Aelia."

"Yes!" Her anger was quickly giving way to tears, "How dare you, Tacitus? She isn't yours to give, she's mine!" She pointed at her own breast, "I knew I would lose my son. Every mother knows that when they lay him in your arms but... my daughter?" The tears spilled unashamedly over her cheeks, forming salty rivulets that ran down her chin.

Tacitus reached out to the woman whom he had quietly loved more than life itself for the past six years and folded her to his chest. "I'm so sorry, Nona," he spoke soothingly to her as she wept against him. "But Aelia needs to be in the Order. She belongs there."

"No!" She pulled back slightly and looked up at him but he found her eyes no longer angry. Instead, they now pleaded with him, "She belongs with me! If she joins the Order, her life will be over! She... she'll be an outcast! She-she won't even be able to marry!"

Despite her protestations, Tacitus couldn't help but smile at her words as he spoke to her gently, "Nona, think about what you are saying. It doesn't even sound like you! Can you imagine Aelia being married off the way you were? Would you even want her to be?"

The red-haired woman stayed quiet for a few moments, lowering her green eyes to the floor until finally uttering a whispered, "...no."

He lifted her chin and wiped the tears from her face with his thumbs, "No, of course not. What is it that you used to tell me? 'Marriage is no place for a woman!'" A small smile returned to her face and he chuckled at the sight of it, "Ah, Nona, I still remember the day your father brought you into the village, kicking and screaming and as beautiful and terrible as a thunderstorm brewing on the horizon."

Nona's smile grew brighter, "Yes, that horrible, wonderful day... the day that I met you."

Her eyes misted over as the memory returned. She had arrived in the village in a truly horrible state after being half-dragged behind her father's horse during the entire five-mile trek from their home of Big Oaks to Two-Crows, her hands tied together by a rope that he had held from his place upon the saddle. To her credit, though, Nona had spent the entire trip shouting curses at him.

As they entered the village, her father called for the Elders and a crowd began to form. They looked upon the bedraggled woman with curiosity, her red hair spilling wildly around her face with a mixture of twigs and leaves lost within it and her simple dress torn at the shoulders and along the bottom hem.

Seneca, his back bent over with his ever-increasing age and having to use a sturdy stick to walk with, emerged from the crowd. He called up to Nona's father, "What is this thing that you do here?" his ancient voice was hard to hear in the surrounding wood.

"I am Scaeva of Big Oaks and this is my daughter, Nona, who was pledged to be married to your Pavo, the tanner."

Seneca bowed his white head, "Yes, I am sorry for the loss of your once future son-in-law. He fought bravely against the boar and his death was honorable-"

"Nevertheless, his death has still stuck me with this one," he tugged at the rope to indicate Nona, who stared at Seneca with eyes full of fire as she stumbled from her father's actions. "She is in her third decade and I can no longer support her under my roof."

"But, Pavo paid his dowry for her. I know, because I blessed it myself."

"Aye, he did, so that means she is yours now. You feed her and you deal with her." He threw the rope at Seneca's feet, "But I advise you to keep her tied up until you find someone strong enough to handle her; she bites and kicks." Scaeva gave his daughter one last glare then turned his horse around and started back out of the village.

"You good for nothing bastard of a father!" she screamed out after him. "May the gods curse the day you were born and give you a slow, painful death because Heaven knows I will if given the chance!" Nona then let out a frustrated cry as she stomped the ground.

Seneca stared awkwardly at the new member of his village, unsure of what to do next.

Nona growled at him, "What are you looking at, old man? Untie me now and let me after that bastard!"

"Hmm...no, my dear," the old man replied calmly. "I fear he is correct in that although you did not marry Pavo, the tanner did pay for you." Nona seethed harder but Seneca continued speaking anyway, "You now belong to the village of Two-Crows."

"Fine, if that is so then untie me and I will go peacefully to my new home."

"But, I have no place for you to go. Pavo's former possessions now belong to his family and you are still an unmarried woman."

Nona rolled her eyes, "I don't see how that-"

"We have rules in this society for a reason, young lady. You are an unmarried woman and thus unwelcome to stay overnight in anyone's house except your parent's."

"Yes, well, we've all seen how well that's worked out."

Seneca grunted as he reached down and unsteadily picked up the rope that still lay beside his feet and gave it an ineffectual tug. "Come. You stay by this tree."

Nona's face contorted in disbelief as she looked at the Elder, then at the faces of the muted crowd that now surrounded her, "Are you serious?"

Seneca spoke to the villagers, "This woman will stay here until someone steps forward to claim her in marriage. If you wish to marry her, seek my counsel. I will be in my home till then." He gave her one last look, a nod, and then hobbled off into the direction of his house. Soon after his departure, the rest of the crowd, sensing no further excitement was forthcoming, began to disperse as well.

Nona, still in a state of disbelief, shouted at them, "What is wrong with all of you? You would rather let me die in the elements than let me into your homes? I hope the gods curse you all!"

Tacitus, meanwhile, had watched the entire event from his usual position just on the outskirts of the crowd. When he was sure they had all gone from the area, he cautiously approached the woman, who now sat, defeated, before the trunk of a large tree.

When she heard him approach, she sat up and hissed at him, "Get back! I'll gut you if you come near me!"

Tacitus froze, "I'm sorry, I-I just want to untie you. You look very uncomfortable." He knelt down before her, "I am Tacitus, the medicus of the village."

She eyed him suspiciously, "I'm Nona, of