A Man Betrayed Read Free Page B

to
tell was that in winter both the sun and the stars didn't put in an appearance
for weeks on end. In the daytime the sky was pale and filled with cloud, in the
nighttime the sky was dark and filled with cloud.
    The result was
that they had little idea of where they lay in relation to Bren and Annis. The
only thing they knew for sure was that they were still somewhere in Halcus. The
fact that they were still in the lands of the enemy had been proven only two
days back.
    The weather had
been getting progressively worse, and Melli had noticed that Jack was still
having problems with his injured shoulder. Oh, he tried to hide it, men always
did things like that, both in tales and reality. He had developed the
habit of always slinging his pack over his left shoulder, thereby keeping the
strain from his right. Knee-deep in snow they walked, the wind robbing them of
what little warmth their clothes could muster. Eventually they came upon a
derelict farmhouse. The farmer had long since left, and for good reason: the
place had been burnt to the timbers, leaving only a snow-covered ruin.
    A storm was
threatening. Dark clouds gathered on the horizon and the wind wolfed at their
heels. Weary and bonecold, their spirits soared when behind a clump of bushes
they discovered the chicken coop. Located some distance from the farmhouse, the
coop had stayed clear of any inflammatory sparks.
    Melli knew there
would be trouble when the door failed to give and the strain of a latch could
clearly be heard within. No door latched itself. Someone else had taken refuge
in the coop. Jack's eyes met hers. She could tell he was sizing up just how
much she needed shelter. Without cover, the coming storm might be their last.
She shook her head slightly: better to walk away. The latched door meant
people, and people meant danger. Jack looked at her a second longer,
registering her warning, and then turned his gaze to the horizon. The storm lay
poised to strike like a predator.
    With a sudden,
violent gesture, he kicked down the door. The latch gave way. The door
collapsed backward, its top hinge failing. In the coop were two men, knives
drawn.
    The first thing
Melli felt was Jack's arm slamming into her chest, pushing her back out of
harm's way. She looked up from the snow in time to marvel at how quickly he
drew his blade. A pig farmer's blade. Melli could detect the sharp, loamy smell
of ale. The two men had been drinking. They moved apart warily, seeking to
flank Jack. Jack stepped back from the threshold. Even to Melli's untutored eye
it seemed like a smart move. When the men attacked now, they would be forced to
come through the doorway one at a time.
    The first man came
forward. Knife before him, he slashed wildly at the air. Jack fell upon him. It
was the only way to describe it. Melli felt she was seeing him for the first
time: he was wild with fury. What he lacked in skill, he made up for in rage.
It seemed to Melli that Jack was fighting much more than the man beneath him.
In the struggle--which the stranger was destined to lose-Jack was fighting
against fate and circumstance and even perhaps himself. Every vicious blow was
a strike against something less substantial, yet more threatening than his
opponent.
    The second man
moved forward. Melli screamed a warning. "Jack! Look out! He's behind
you." He swung around and the man, probably scared at what he saw in
Jack's face, fled. He ran awkwardly through the thick snow, leaving deep pits
where his feet had stepped.
    The first man was
dead: a pig-knife to the gut. Jack stood up. He would not look at her. He'd
stumbled into the but and she'd followed, carefully skirting the body and the
blood.
    Neither had
mentioned it since. Melli's thoughts were another matter. Jack was growing more
withdrawn. He was as considerate as ever, yet there was something within him
that could quickly turn and show an edge. The Halcus soldier had seen the
sharpness of it. In a way, Melli was grateful the man had been killed