Disclaimer: If you saw it on TV, Disney owns it. If you didn't, I probably made it up. I'm funny that way.
The Trinity Sitch: Book 2 - Blade of the Fury
Chapter 2: Stranger in a Strange Land
He wasn't sure he could even see as he opened his eyes. There was a moment of panic, thinking he was blind. Slowly, the dying embers of a fire in a central pit could be made out. Beside the faint orange glow, the room was pitch black. The place smelled of stone, smoke and tanned hides. He became aware that he was on a soft mattress set into the floor, covered with some sort of hide blanket. A log split in the fireplace sending a small shower of sparks floating around in the pit, illuminating more of the room. He realized he wasn't alone. The sleeping pit was large and at least two other people were curled up in the layers of furry blankets. They were only a few feet away from him and he could feel their body heat.
Despite the dying fire, the room was rather cool. Sitting up, he touched a wall, discovering he was actually in a chamber made either of rough hewn stone or even in a cave. He suddenly realized he had no idea where he was, nor why he was there. His mind seemed clouded. His surroundings were clearly not familiar; they were definitely not what he was accustomed to. For some reason he couldn't think of what was familiar. Heedless of the chill, he threw off the blanket and stood on the cold stone floor beside the sleeping pit. The floor was not only cool; it was cold to his bare feet. The pit itself was strange. Why a pit and not a bed? The pit was round, at least where he was getting out, and the lip was smoothed over so there wasn't a sharp edge.
By feeling his way along the wall, he made his way out of the sleeping room into the main room of the home. This room at least seemed a little more proper. Windows let the starlight in, illuminating the wooden walls and Spartan furnishings of the hovel. The home was built into the side of a hill; the sleeping room a natural cave most likely.
He suddenly realized he was extremely cold since he was only wearing short pants made of some hide. He cast about for a moment, not quite knowing exactly what other clothing he was looking for. He was sorry he hadn't thought to wrap one of the hide blankets around him. There were a number of wooden chests in the room but as he moved to inspect one a flickering light startled him.
A woman with thick, sleep tangled brown hair was standing in the door leading to the bed. She had one of the blankets wrapped around her, holding it closed with one hand. In the other hand was a tallow candle. The woman was young, probably in her mid twenties and pretty in a sort of unkempt way. Probably the lack of make-up, he thought. Why did he think that?
"Ben shadda ye to no yetno." She said, gesturing with the candle. She waved it back toward the bedroom. "No yetno shin to slyens."
He had no idea what she was saying. Was the mental lethargy he was feeling clouding his mind to the degree it was affecting how he understood speech? No, he simply didn't know the language she was speaking. She looked frustrated for a moment then stepped up to him, taking his hand. She let the blanket go and he noticed she was almost as unclothed as he was. Not knowing what else to do, he let her lead him back to the bed. He lay down, the warmth of her body pleasing as she momentarily brushed against him. She covered him with the blankets he had been under and went to retrieve her own blanket. Moments later she returned, crawling under the blankets with the other figure that he could now see by the candlelight. She blew out the flame and the room returned to blackness.
Am I a prisoner? No, she certainly didn't seem to be holding him against his will. It seemed more like she was concerned for his welfare. The walls of the outer room were rather crude, though he didn't know what he was comparing that against. They didn't seem to be any sort of prison. Perhaps she had been trying to tell him that this was no hour for man or beast to be up and about. He didn't know exactly why, but he knew these surroundings were more primitive than he was accustomed to. The idea with the communal bed must be to conserve heat. He was still lost in thought, trying to figure out what was going on when he finally drifted back to sleep.
Soft sounds awakened him later. Morning light could be seen drifting through the edges of the closed door, giving the room the look of twilight. It was just after dawn and the room was even colder than it had been during the night as the fire had finally given up the ghost. He started to sit up and realized what had awakened him.
The woman, who was still wearing only a thick cotton night shirt, was kneeling to his side, shaking him as if to waken him. He turned to her slowly, keeping himself covered. She touched his cheek and suddenly looked distressed. She pulled up the covers and pressed close to him, her warmth intense. He didn't know quite how to react, thinking she might be the wife of the other man still sleeping nearby. Somehow he felt it wasn't normal for a strange woman to crawl into a bed with him, body warmth or not.
"Benve toi no yetwon cold." She whispered. 'Cold' she had said. No, the word she said was 'teven'. He simply understood it to mean cold. He replayed what she had said in his head, the meaning becoming suddenly clearer. 'You are too cold.' He was sure that's what she had said.
Thinking hard, he tried to respond. Before he could form a response, the man rose from his place in the bed, dressed in a simple tunic. For a moment he thought there would be some problem, his being in bed with his mate or wife, but the man just smiled and said, "He's awake now." He was still speaking the odd language, but it was starting to make more sense. That was so strange. The night before, he had been convinced he didn't know their language. Now, the more he heard of it, the clearer it became.
The man left the room. He was just getting used to the feeling of the woman pressing at his side, apparently warming him when she surprised him by kissing him. Her lips pressed against his as she embraced him.
Not knowing why, he rolled away from her. "I'm sorry, I mean, no offense, but this isn't right."
The woman simply looked confused. He suddenly realized he had spoken in English. Yes, it was English. He remembered that. His own language he knew was called English. Thinking carefully, he spoke in what he was believed to be her language. "Not right, no offend please."
She smiled broadly at him, sitting up in the bed. "You are soul-mated to another, then." She said as a matter of fact. Yes, that was true. He knew in his heart that was true, though try as he might he couldn't remember anything about his 'soul-mate'. "I am mated, but not soul-mated." She indicated the man in the other room. "I understand, I'm not offended." She looked at him quizzically, looking at him from head to toe. He was almost certain she licked her lips. "Stranger, what is your name?"
He stopped suddenly. What was his name? After a moment, words without their complete meaning sprang to his mind. It was his name, but it did not have the familiarity it was supposed to. "Argus, Neil…Argus."
The woman was already shrugging into an over tunic, running into the other room to speak to the man. He was still having trouble understanding them when they spoke more quickly. Yes, Neil was definitely his name. What were they saying now? He heard his name, then another. They were mispronouncing his last name with something that sounded like Arcus. He definitely heard it right. His accent must be giving them trouble. They seemed to be referring to him as Arcus Neil. That or they were talking about somebody called Arcus Oray. The way they were using the names, he was certain they were referring to someone else as well as him.
There was another tunic folded on the end of the bed. The sleeping pit was about fifteen feet across, the mattress made of some cotton like material and stuffed with something soft. Fur or feathers; he didn't know. He pulled on the brown, rough stitched tunic, mindful that he was still only partially dressed, at least as he found familiar.
Dressed, he walked out into the main room. "Come, eat." The man gestured at the table they were sitting at. He was moderately muscular, his face somewhat plain. Neil wondered if the man ever smiled, his face so blank. He was somewhat older than his wife (mate? girlfriend?) He dug into the slab of meat they had given him. He was certainly extremely hungry.
"How did I get here?" he finally asked between bites.
"Yavvi found you out in the fields." He said as he gestured to the woman. She was pulling her fingers through her thick, wavy brown hair between bites of her own breakfast. "She thought you had been injured, though there was no mark on you. We have no idea what became of your clothing."
"I was…naked?"
"Yes. You slept for three days, until she found you wandering about the house last night. Oh, my manners, I'm Torvik. We're farmers."
"Torvik is too modest," Yavvi interrupted. "He is the chief farmer of the southern lands of Lord Moondagan, praise Effurien!" She absolutely beamed as she made the pronouncement.
"I don't want to seem stupid, but where exactly am I?"
Torvik drew out a shape with his finger on the open space of the table. "We are in the nation of Dagan. It is a large island, the largest one known. We are near the center, here, in the Prefecture of Lord Tanith Moondagan."
None of the names meant anything to him. It suddenly occurred to him that he had no idea where he had come from. They continued to eat in silence, Yavvi looking at both men equally. Neil started to wonder why her man wasn't becoming jealous by the attention the young woman was paying him. He couldn't help but notice the look in her eyes.
It turned out to be the middle of winter. With no crops to tend and full winter's worth of stores put up, all they had to do was tend to their livestock. There were a number of beasts that stood as high as his shoulder; Torvik called them yussek. There was also a flock of wooly creatures Neil immediately called sheep. He was quickly corrected that the animals were called yekkums. They had slaughtered one of them only days ago, and the meat was supplementing their usual diet of cooked grains.
Without any idea where he truly was or where he was supposed to be, Torvik invited him to stay with them, at least until the thaw. It was actually difficult to travel during the cold season as snow was blocking most of the passes out of the mountainous region. Days stretched into weeks, the weeks into months until the extremely long nights seemed to finally shorten.
Yavvi had been increasing the pressure on him. She couldn't be stopped from kissing him. Torvik never seemed to mind, simply taking his turn kissing her. He finally had to say something.
"I just don't want there to be any misunderstanding between us about your wife." he said as he pulled off his gloves.
Torvik actually broke a smile. He leaned over to him and whispered. "Yavvi's not my wife, Arcus Neil." He continued to smile as he shoveled the snow.
"Then what is she?"
Torvik stopped shoveling and leaned on the end of his shovel. "Two years ago Yavvi came here just at the onset of winter. The best thing I can tell you about her is that she lives here with me now. We occasionally join as mates but I do not want to be married again. I know what you're thinking. I'm not jealous of the two of you. You are much closer of an age. I'm happy to have her company on cold nights."
"Well, I was going to tell you that I haven't 'mated' with her. She's tried on several occasions, but something stops me."
"Do you have a need for potions?"
"No, its nothing like that." Neil actually blushed. "No, I think its becauseI think I might be married. I don't know why I think that, I just do."
"That actually explains much." Torvik said as he resumed digging the path. "I thought at first it had to do with whatever led you to us but now I understand that you have been separated from your soul-mate."
"Yavvi said something about that the first time she tried to seduce me. Seduce me hell, she was climbing right onto me."
Torvik smiled again. "She can be awfully friendly that way."
Neil picked his own shovel back up, slipping the leather gloves back on. He had come very close to giving in to her last night. She was now sleeping with him rather than Torvik, claiming that he needed more warmth. He did find great pleasure in sleeping next to her, it was just disconcerting where her hands were going as she did. Still, the vague notion about his own soul mate kept him from stepping over that line with her.
He questioned her about it that night. He wondered about her origin, why she had come to the farm alone like that. She wouldn't speak of it, instead pressing tightly to his side and going to sleep.
Neil dreamed for the first time that night. He was certain he had dreamed before, but this was the first he could remember it. He wasn't sure if it was Yavvi's warmth or something else, but her image blurred, until it was replaced with an angelic visage of another woman. She was slightly built, slender though perfectly proportioned. Her raven black hair seemed to flow in all directions. The woman embraced him, drawing him tightly toward her. The long straight hair seemed to enwrap him as she drew his head to her bosom.
He awoke deep in the night entwined in Yavvi's arms. She had one leg draped over his, wrapping herself around him, her face nuzzled into the hollow of his neck. Torvik was on the other side of her, joining in the pool of warmth, one arm thrown over her waist.
He remembered the dream in complete detail. The intensity of the vision startled him, making him wonder if it was simply because the young woman was so close to him in the night. No, he didn't think so but he couldn't be sure. The dream was so real, though he couldn't quite recall why the woman was so different from the one he was with now. What would that mean if I really was with her? Would that be cheating my own soul-mate? Yavvi, while beautiful herself, was much more rounded, more buxom than the woman from his dream. Where the dream woman had long, straight black hair, Yavvi's was dark brown and a wavy mop of thick ringlets that extended to the middle of her back. He wasn't sure, but he thought he could see her smiling by the dying firelight.
Yavvi changed positions, turning to Torvik who clasped her close. He rolled away from them and wrapped himself in his own covers. The dream was starting to fade from his memory, taking it's place as any other half remembered dream. Taking his blanket with him, he stood and made his way into the other room, leaving the lovers lost in each other's embrace. Torvik deserved her, he thought. I'm the one out of place here. If I stay here any longer, I might be the one falling for the young woman.
He gathered his meager belongings, stuffing them into a belt pouch. He hoped they wouldn't miss the boots or the coat he was taking. Spring was rapidly approaching but the nights were still near freezing. He considered leaving them a note, but he didn't know how to write in their language. He wondered if they could even read.
Yavvi heard the door open and disentangled herself from Torvik. She struck a spark with a stone and lit her candle. Wrapped in her covers, she went looking for Neil in the house.
She knew he was gone. She couldn't explain the hunger she had for him or why he had spurned her. Sadly, she returned to the bed to Torvik's welcome embrace.
Two sets of eyes watched the traveler. They were well concealed in the underbrush, just off the main road.
"He doesn't look like a very good mark." One whispered. "He's dressed like a beggar."
"Look at him. There isn't a scar on him. He looks like a nobleman."
"Feh. He's a fool to travel this road alone. He doesn't look like he even has a knife, let alone a proper sword."
Neil could hear the whispering. He knew his hearing was especially keen, as he had been able to track small game to supplement his diet of berries and grains that generous farmers had given him. They told him the harvest was especially good last year, and they had plenty left in their stores as they began their spring plantings.
He was ready when the first one dropped in front of him. On cue, the other one dropped from behind and tried to ram a sword into his back.
Expecting the move, he simply dropped to the ground and kicked the second man in the knee. There was a horrible cracking sound as he dropped the sword, howling in pain. Instantly Neil was back on his feet.
The first man was only armed with a knife, as he was supposed to distract their prey. He neatly sidestepped the attack, catching the man by his arm and throwing him onto his back. In the same motion he brought his fist down on the man's jaw, putting him out.
He stood back up, dusting himself off. "I don't think you'll be needing this." He said as he picked up the sword, inspecting it. The design was simple but the quality good. Excellent, it is probably military issue, he thought. He assumed the men had either taken this off a soldier or they were deserters. The man was still moaning, holding this shattered knee as he helped himself to the scabbard.
After quickly looking around, he sheathed the weapon and started away. After a moment's thought, he also took the fighting knife from the other man. Not wanting to leave the highwaymen without anything, he dropped his utility knife onto the ground beside the unconscious man. It had been a gift from a kind farmer several weeks ago, the man taking pity on the totally unarmed, unequipped man.
The two thieves were the first people he had come across who were not outright friendly and generous. I'm going to have to find a map, he thought. He wouldn't have been surprised if he was nearing a city, or at least moving into a more heavily populated area.
He thanked Effurien that he apparently was a skilled fighter. Everyone he met so far kept thanking something they referred to by that name He didn't know if it was a person, a religion or what. One older wife told him they would always help a stranger just in case he was a Kiresmek ban Effurien, or Knight of Effurien. She didn't elaborate, assuming he knew what they were speaking of.
His fighting skills were another mystery like the rest of his past. The moment he knew he was being stalked, he knew he would be able to handle the men instinctively. He assumed they would have been more of a challenge, but he was able to put each of them down quickly, barely causing him to break a sweat in the warming spring air. He started punching the air; play boxing in the style his body was somehow accustomed to. He broke into a run, leaping into the air and kicking out. He landed lithely on both feet.
Pulling the sword from his waist, he tested it, waving it about, feeling the heft of it. It didn't seem to be as familiar as his hand-to-hand fighting style, but he seemed to know his way about it. He nearly tripped over himself as he tried to put is back into its housing. He stopped for a moment, untying the thongs from his waist and transferring the sword to his shoulder. Satisfied that it was more comfortable there, he started on his way again.
In all the time he spent as a stranger in this strange land the questions played over and over in his mind.
Where am I? Why is it all I can remember about myself is my name?
He kept pondering that question as he made his way down the road, searching for something, anything familiar.