Edited 5.7.18 (Lots and lots of changes)

Chapter 11

I adjusted quite easily from the cellar to a home above the ground, and though it was only for a night, my mood changed tremendously in my uncle's company.

My eyelids were heavy but I continued to gaze upon the room. The Shadow, as I still referred to him, had obviously loved his son. The room, though small, was furnished with not only a baby cradle, but a small child's bed. The Shadow brought me a pillow and closed the curtains to keep the daylight out. He also brought me a shirt, which was far too large, and an old pair of trousers he said he would have taken in and shortened before we took our leave. The new clothes he tucked under his arm and took with him as he led me down the hall.

"Where will you travel?" I yawned.

"We," he corrected, "shall travel through Europe. East, I believe. Does the eastern world interest you, my boy?"

I nodded and a smile touched my lips. I had choices. For once I had decisions of my own to make, ones which would dictate my life, my feelings, my fate.

"There is water warmed if you would care to take a bath," he said as I followed him down the hall. He pushed open a door and I peered over his shoulder at a tub with a stool beside it and a stack of towels.

I had never bathed in warm water. The closest my parents came to providing a bath was my father dumping well water over my head as I shivered and attempted to scrub soap into my hair and down my arms and chest before he returned and rinsed me with the same frigid well water. Carefully I nodded, desiring the luxury of warm water and soft, clean towels.

"Here, come with me." The Shadow motioned me to follow him and I trailed at his heels into the kitchen where there was water on the stove. He dumped the pot of water into a bucket, which he had me carry, before he filled another bucket with water pumped from the sink. "This should be warm enough, but if not there is always more."

Together we filled the tub halfway up and The Shadow had me test the water after one more bucket filled with hot water. I smiled and nodded in approval.

"Dress when you have had your fill and retire for the night-or rather morning. If you are well enough on your own, this old man is headed off to sleep. Can you manage, my child?"

I nodded.

"Speak," he commanded with a flourish of his hand.

"I can manage," I answered meekly.

He turned his back and remained a moment longer. "Out of those rags. I will discard them at once."

I hesitated only briefly as I realized he had already seen me naked and humiliated earlier in the night. I stepped out of trousers, balled them up, and handed it to him. With a nod, he opened the door and said over his shoulder, "Rest up. We will leave sooner than you think."

He left me then with a neatly folded long nightshirt with wide burgundy stripes atop the folded towels. I stood naked in the middle of the small room and looked down the length of my body where I took inventory of my wounds. Every bruise, scrape, and cut was fresh and throbbing against my flesh. Gingerly I brushed sand off my raw knees before I stepped into the tub and sank into the water.

A groan escaped my lips as I sat back and gripped the edge of the tub. Eyes closed, I smiled to myself and felt my tension ease as I stretched in the warm water. If Heaven indeed existed, I felt certain I had entered the gates at last. I had no idea how long I remained in the tub. I washed my hair and face, scrubbed my torso and limbs, and savored the forbidden luxury until the water turned cool and I feared I would fall asleep and drown myself.

Once I dried and dressed myself, I literally fell into bed, my eyes closing the moment I hit the pillow. The linens smelled stale, but they were soft and warm. I balled my fists around the fabric and curled my legs to my chest. I'd almost forgotten to remove my mask, as it was comfortable against my skin.

Again I felt tears prick my eyes but no longer were my emotions centered around grief. Lack of fear had vanquished my anger and uncertainty. For once I felt a sense of contentment. I slept quite soundly, never fearing footsteps and a creaking staircase, the smell of alcohol and body odor. I was safe. For the first time I could recall, I was safe and grateful.

I slept peacefully all day, waking briefly to the sound of muffled voices in the distance before I slipped back into dreamless sleep. Twice I sat up, but my body ached and I had no desire to move until I was forced to leave a real bed. Eventually I fell asleep again. When I woke for good with the strange combination of my throat dry and bladder full, the sun had already started to set, a hazy twilight peering through the bottom of the curtain. Crickets chirped somewhere and gulls cried in the distance. It felt more like a dream than my life. I wondered if I had died and not realized it.

While I attempted to convince myself to leave bed, I heard whispers outside my window and recognized The Shadow's voice. Still half-asleep, I caught little of what was said and I had no idea who he spoke to, but I knew the subject of their conversation.

"Bjorn never deserved a child." The Shadow spoke with firmness. Even without seeing him—or possibly because I didn't see him—I held my breath. His was a voice which commanded respect. His tone was suited for a man seven feet in height and three hundred pounds of solid girth. I learned much from him.

"I heard his son has a marked face."

There was a long pause. "One would not readily notice this boy's face. He's a bag of bones, and the marks Bjorn gave him on his back and chest are far worse than what happened at his birth. Perhaps only God knows the truth."

"You're fortunate he hasn't killed you. You've humiliated him."

To this The Shadow snorted. "He's fortunate I didn't return and kill him the moment I walked into town."

"He is not worth the consequences, Alak. You are a better man than him."

"Sometimes, my friend. Sometimes."

Moments later I heard The Shadow walk up the stairs and unlock the door. He whistled as he approached the bedroom where I lay staring at the ceiling. When he knocked on the door I jumped, startled by the sound despite knowing he approached.

"Y-yes?"

He chuckled. "Good evening, my boy." His voice had changed again, this time turning jovial. "You have a decision to make."

I sat up, wondering if he'd send me away. Perhaps he discovered I would prove far too much trouble and not enough worth. With uncertainty I reached for my mask, which I had removed at one point in my sleep, and covered my face in preparation…for what I didn't know.

"You may sleep for another hour or you may join me for a very late breakfast."

I immediately walked to the door and opened it, finding The Shadow standing with the shirt and trousers from the previous day under his arm. I assumed I had overheard the end of his conversation with the tailor.

"Ah, no one can resist breakfast," The Shadow said with a wide smile. He must have noticed the ravenous look in my eyes at the promise of food. It had always swayed me like nothing else possibly could.

"It is night?" I questioned.

"It is, but rather than supper I am in a mood for something sweet. Raspberry jam," he said with a smile. His yellowed eyes creased when he spoke. "With warmed bread."

My mouth watered, despite having never tasted raspberries or warm bread. "Jam?"

He nodded. "It's from England. Came off a ship this afternoon." He gave a casual shrug. "Unless you would rather have supper."

"I would like jam," I blurted out.

His smile widened. "Then jam it is."

I dressed swiftly, relieved my bladder at last, and padded barefoot down the hall, following the smell of scrambled eggs and ham in the air. I sniffed so hard I made myself short of breath. Awkwardly I stood in the doorway, unsure of whether or not I should approach the table without being asked to sit with him. The idea eating in the company of other's was foreign to me, and I feared one misstep and he would turn me away.

My silent presence startled The Shadow, and when he turned and found me lingering, he jumped back and cursed softly. With a shake of his head, he chuckled to himself and motioned me toward him.

"Sit with me, Erik," he beckoned.

The Shadow treated me as though I were an old friend he hadn't seen in years. He told stories of his life aboard a fishing vessel, the weeks turned to months he spent at sea. Sometimes it was with a handful of fishermen, but often it was alone on the sea, where he thought of his sons and longed for his wife. Camaraderie easily came through our shared solitude. The longer I listened to him speak the more I saw a man who was lonely and who had lost much in his life. The twinkle in his eyes dulled when he spoke of his youngest son, who had died before the age of five, and his two older sons, Joshua and Phelan, who had gone to stay with his wife's family. The Shadow did not explain why his sons were gone and I did not ask. In fact, I said very little as to not interrupt his stories.

Whenever he met my eye, I looked away, and in the midst of his story, The Shadow paused and waited for me to risk a glance.

"What do you fear?" he asked.

Everything, I wanted to say. I'd never felt comfortable around people, mostly because the only people I had ever been around were my father and my mother. My father cared little for me and my mother feared my presence. I learned to keep my gaze down when I was near them.

"Erik?" he prompted when I did not reply.

I briefly glanced up and found him staring at my swollen, bruised right wrist. He frowned and released a heavy sigh.

"He will not harm you again," the Shadow vowed, his voice low but firm.

The Shadow was animated when he spoke. He moved frequently, often gesturing with his hands or shifting in his seat. It took the better part of an hour for me not to tense or flinch when he gestured. He spoke as he chewed food on one side of his mouth, and had he been able to throw his voice I have no doubt he would have continued speaking as he drank his water.

When we finished our meal he explained that a great deal of our travel would take place on foot and asked if I could walk great distances. As to not be left behind, I nodded readily.

"From dusk until dawn?" he questioned.

"Yes, sir."

"Then you will reach our destination far sooner than I."

He laughed and slapped the table with his hand, which startled me. I had no idea why he laughed, but I felt heat rise up my neck and to my cheeks. I had misspoken. I just didn't know how.

"I have no intention of walking the night through. We shall walk until either my knees or my heart give out." He smiled again, but this time it lacked mirth. Something wasn't right, but I was far too ignorant a child to know he was ill. Truthfully, his eyes should have given it away.

We stayed for another hour in his home until "the night was plenty dark" as he said. He packed a single bag for himself and one for me, which contained enough food for the next three days. Once we were prepared, we sat by his fire and he tied different knots, entertaining me with various tricks.

"The rope," I said. "You tied it differently…on the beach."

He nodded and I was grateful I didn't have to specify I was interested in how he had nearly strangled my father.

"It's weighted," he explained. He looked at me, searched my eyes. "You must have quick reflexes in order to use this type of…defense."

I swallowed and gave a nod.

Without warning, The Shadow threw the rope at me and it hooked on my wrist. He pulled it tight.

"A magic lasso," he said quietly. "I do believe you are quick as a cat, my child."