Cathexis: Necromancer's Dagger (52 page)

It was enough to put G’Taklar on the ground
for an extended stay.

“That’s
fer
missing me when you had yer chance,” he said to G’Taklar.

“
Life
in the army has its ups and downs,”
Jatar
noted philosophically.

“... ” G’Taklar responded.

Rachael was ready to make her escape from
Headwater. She had collected some supplies and purchased what she
could not find. She figured that she had enough food and water for
two people to last three weeks in the desert, now all she had to do
was inform Guitar he was going. She had not managed to see him in
the four days since he had been drafted.

Rachael had a plan she intended to put in
play that night.

Two bells after dark she approached the back
stairs of the Butchered Lamb, her place of ex-employment. She crept
up the back stairs stopping every few steps to listen for anyone
approaching. She reached the top of the stairs without mishap and
opened the door a crack only to find the hallway empty.

The young girl quickly tip-toed down to the
second door and listened, she could hear
Marthla
entertaining her regular, corporal Ginto. She
knew that he always stayed past midnight.

Rachael inserted her key and turned it as
quietly as she could. The key could unlock all the doors on the
upper floor. The lock squeaked, so she stopped and listened for
signs of discovery, but the low mumble of voices kept on at the
same level. She completed turning the key and slowly opened the
door.

As Rachel had hoped,
Marthla
and the corporal were in the separate bedroom
that
Marthla
got for being the top
girl at the Butchered Lamb. The corporal’s clothes were draped
around the sitting room in disarray. Terrified of discovery Rachael
quickly collected up the corporal’s uniform and prepared to
leave.

Then she heard the hated voice of Fats
talking to another girl in the hall outside the room. Rachael
looked over her shoulder toward the door to the bedroom expecting
it to open at any moment revealing her to
Marthla
and the corporal. She pictured herself being
caught; her hands cut off for stealing, and then forced to work as
Fats’ slave for the rest of her life.

Fortunately,
she heard the sounds of Fats going down the
stairs. Rachael peeked out the door and saw that the hall was
empty. She exited out the back of the Inn as swiftly as she could
and then ran down the street to the
hayloft
where she now slept.

In the barn Rachael dressed
herself
in some rags and old clothing she had
collected over the past two nights. Once attired in the rags she
rolled in the dust and straw to make the old clothing look 'lived
in'. When she was done she looked much larger than she was, and if
you didn’t look too closely
within
the tattered old hood, she could pass for an old drudge.

She tied the corporal’s clothes up
underneath her raggedy clothing. Now dressed in her disguise
Rachael went to join the group of old women who cleaned the kitchen
and chamber pots of the Tchulian military barracks. They were so
resigned to their dismal lot in life that they didn’t even notice
when another crusty old woman shuffled up to join their ranks.

The line of twelve old drudges walked in
through the side gate of the barracks under the bored eye of the
night guard. The drudges cleaned the kitchen garbage out first and
then went to clean the chamber pots of the barracks.

Rachael slipped away and entered the
sleeping cot area. She hurried down the line of sleeping men
looking for the face of Guitar. She found him like all the rest,
passed out to the world from their grueling instruction at the
hands of the Sergeant and his Corporals.

Having found G'Taklar, the young girl left
him for a moment and slipped into the barracks water closet where
the chamber pots were kept. The drudges had not yet reached this
building. She peeled off the layers of rags she wore and put on the
corporal’s uniform she had stolen from
Marthla’s
room in the Butchered Lamb. She had to strap
down her bosom tightly with a soft cloth to try and hide that she
was a woman. The uniform was too big, so she tucked up the ankles
and rolled up the ends of the sleeves. She hoped the dim starlight
would aid her in covering up the obvious inconsistencies in the
uniform. She put her long wavy brown hair up into the corporal’s
hat to complete her disguise.

She went back to G’Taklar’s
cot
and shook him gently. “Guitar, it’s me,
Rachael. Wake up,” she whispered.

He came out of his deep exhausted sleep with
a dreamy sigh. “Rachael, I’m here, I... ” Then his eyes focused on
the silhouette of the corporal’s hat above him and he remembered
where he was billeted.

Hoping to avoid another beating for being
late, he tried to leap out of bed and tried to say, “Ready for
duty, sir,”, but it came out, “
Murdi
fwwwr
oooty
errr
!”

Rachael had one hand over his mouth and the
other on his chest, holding him down with all her weight. She
leaned down to his ear to whisper. “It’s Rachael, now calm down and
keep quiet!”

“
Maital
?”
he said, his voice still muffled by her hand.

“Yes,” she replied continuing to whisper
into his ear. “Nod your head up and down if you’re ready to
whisper.”

He nodded.

She removed her small hand from his
mouth
but continued to drape her
body on his chest. This kept her head next to his, so they could
whisper into each other’s ear.

G’Taklar whispered his first coherent words,
“What are you doing here?”

“I’m helping you escape! I’ve collected
enough supplies to last us three weeks, and I know where to get
horses!” She said in an excited whisper, trying to sell him on the
feasibility of her getaway plan.

“Let me think for a moment,” he whispered
back.

“
This isn’t a good idea,”
Jatar told
him,
“you’re safer here. Remember what this girl doesn’t know,
the Tchulians are probably looking for their escaped prisoner!
Which is you, in case you forgot.”

“
But Jatar they’re killing me here.
Didn’t I escape that dungeon to avoid being tortured? It couldn’t
be worse than this,”
G’Taklar thought, woefully.

“
You know that’s not true, this is tough,
and they’re giving you a particularly hard time because of the
clothing they found you in, but it’s not more than you can
handle,”
Jatar said reasonably.
“Besides, if this girl helps
you escape she will get in trouble, eventually they’ll figure out
who helped you.”

“
You’re right, I’ll talk to her,”
then he whispered to Rachael, “Look, I appreciate your efforts to
help me, but I can’t leave.”

“Why?” she whispered back, her excitement
dying.

“For one reason, because you would be caught
and punished for helping me and I can’t accept that,” he
explained.

“You’re worried about me,” she whispered
back in a quiet voice, “but you don’t understand, I’m going with
you. I lost my job at the Butchered Lamb after you left. They’re
searching for me. Fat’s is trying to give me to that Sergeant Herms
and his corporals. I have to leave this town.”

“Let me think again,” said G’Taklar and
thought to Jatar,
“Well, that changes things, doesn’t it? This
is my fault. Any words of wisdom?”

“
A wise man once told me, ‘Wisdom comes
with age, but the young won’t listen’, but I was too young to
listen to him then,”
Jatar replied.

“
Meaning I won’t listen to you now?”
G’Taklar asked.

“
The quotation proves itself
worthless,”
Jatar replied, “
besides, what is wise is not
always right. Let’s help this girl.”

“
Now you’re talking,”
then he
whispered decisively, “All right Rachael, I’m coming with you.”

He felt her body relax in relief; she had
been holding herself stiff with tension.

G’Taklar glanced at her clothing and said,
“From the uniform you’re wearing I think I know how you got in
here, but what’s your plan for getting out of the compound? They
don’t let recruits outside the walls.”

“I didn’t come in this way, I pretended to
be an old
drudge
and came in with
the poor wretches they hire to clean up. To get out I’m going to
pretend to be a corporal, and take you out with me,” she replied in
a breathy whisper.

The young girl’s warm breath on young
G’Taklar’s ear was starting to affect him, his pulse quickened and
he gulped, words were having difficulty getting together in his
mouth.

Jatar spoke during G’Taklar’s tongue tied
pause,
“I have a suggestion, why don’t you put on the corporal’s
uniform; it’ll fit you better. She can put on her drudge clothes
and go back out with them. I doubt she could pass as a Tchulian
soldier, uniform and dark notwithstanding.”

“I have a suggestion,” G’Taklar whispered to
Rachael, repeating what Jatar had recommended.

“You’re so smart, Guitar, I didn’t think of
that, and I was worried about the uniform being too big,” she
replied.

“Well, ahem, thanks,” he said, embarrassed
at the praise she gave him for Jatar’s advice. "Where did you leave
your drudge outfit?”

Rachael got up and led him to the
lavatory.

G’Taklar followed her as quietly as he
could. When they reached the water closet Rachael began to take off
the uniform.

She pulled the hat off and tossed it to
G’Taklar, and then she began to unbutton the shirt. She quickly
pulled it off and then threw it to him as well. She reached to
untie the cloth that bound her
bosom
but noticed G’Taklar who was completely engrossed
in
watching her disrobe.

“Turn your back,” she instructed, “this
isn’t a show.”

G’Taklar’s face flushed and he turned his
back quickly. “I wasn’t looking; I was just waiting for the
clothes.”

“I’m sure,” Rachael replied, in a tone that
showed she did not believe a word of what he had said. “Why don’t
you start putting that shirt on?”

“Oh, yes,” G’Taklar said, coming back to the
present. He had been trying to understand her past behavior in her
room compared to the present,
She makes no sense at all,
he
concluded.

A moment later the pants hit him in the back
of the head, when he turned to pick them up he caught the white
outline of the naked Rachael who had her back to him while she
picked up the rags from the floor. He tried not to look, but his
eyes traveled down the outline of the small curvy girl. Her long
wavy hair entangled his eyes which followed the cascading curls to
the small of her back and inevitably toward her perfectly rounded…
G’Taklar yanked his head around, practically tearing his eyes as
they tried to stay on the beautiful sight of his first naked
woman.

Flustered, and red as the evening sunset,
G’Taklar took off his pants and began to change into the
corporal’s.

He was busy, so he didn’t see Rachael sneak
a peek at the back of his naked body. She sighed and went back to
putting on her rags.

A man walked out of the desert and into the
common room at the Butchered Lamb. He had piercing gray eyes,
shoulder length black hair and wore a long dusty gray cloak.

He walked directly to the bar and though it
was crowded he caught Fats’ eye and in a low voice said, “Ale.”

Fats was busy, and started to ignore the
stranger, but something in the depths of the man’s gray eyes made
him pause. He made his regular customers wait and filled a large
brown mug with ale for the stranger.

As Fats set the drink down the man took hold
of his wrist in a steel grip.

Fats pulled back trying to free his hand.
Normally his bulk won most battles, but
this time,
the man’s hand just tightened and Fats was
held in place.

The man spoke quietly, and his voice showed
no hint of effort in holding Fats. “I’m thinking of joining the
local garrison, are there any officers around with whom I could
speak?”

“Sergeant Herms is upstairs, he’ll be down
soon
if you wait,” Fats found he
was scared of this man; there was something different in the gray
eyes of the stranger.

Fats was used to dealing with tough men, but
this stranger was a cut above, his soul shone from his eyes,
fearless, confident, and ready for anything.

The stranger turned Fats’ hand over. The
innkeeper watched in fear of what he might do. The
gray-cloaked
stranger brought his other hand
from under his cloak and placed two coppers in the innkeeper’s open
palm. “For the
ale
,” he said, and
released Fats’ hand.

Fats almost collapsed behind the counter in
relief.

The cloaked man took his mug of ale and sat
at a booth against the back wall, waiting.

After a quarter bell Sergeant Herms lumbered
down the stairs and joined his two corporals, they were waiting for
him at a booth.

Fats immediately hurried over to the
Tchulians and said, “There’s a man here who says he wants to join
the military. He’s been waiting for you.”

“He wants te join, you say? Well can you
beat that!” the Sergeant said and his two corporals laughed.

“He’s not the normal scum that wanders in
here, Sergeant, this is a tough one,” Fats warned.

“Oh, tough, is he? Let’s see the tough old
bird,” and he stood up on his thick legs, gesturing for his two men
to come along. He felt better when he had armed men to support his
authority.

“Which is the bloke?”