Stone of Tears

With his sleeve, Richard wiped the spittle off the side of his forehead. He reached out and put a comforting hand to her shoulder. “No. I’m not going to hurt you. I simply need to use this sword to get the collar off. How else can I get you out of here? You will be safe, you’ll see. Let me get it off you?”

“Swords cannot cut iron!”

Richard lifted an eyebrow. “Magic can.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath as he gently put an arm around her shoulder and rolled her facedown in his lap. He laid the sword’s point to the side of her neck. He had seen the Sword of Truth cut through iron before, and he knew the sword’s magic could do the job. She lay dead still as he slid the sword under the heavy iron band.

And then she lunged at him. In a blink, she had a fierce grip on his left arm. Her teeth clamped around his forearm, pinching the nerves.

Richard froze. He knew that if he were to try to yank his arm back, her teeth would probably tear the muscle from the bone. He still had his right hand on the sword. The rage of the magic pounded through him. He used the anger to help Slim block the pain and remain still.

With the sword under the collar as it was, it would be a simple matter to give it a twist and a push. It would cut her throat, if not decapitate her, and he would be free of her teeth. The pain from her locking bite was agonizing.

“Du Chaillu,” he managed through gritted teeth. “Let go. I’m not going to hurt you. If it were my intention to hurt you, I could cut you right now with the sword to make you let go.”

After a long moment, silent of everything but his labored .breathing, she relaxed the pressure of her teeth, but didn’t release his arm from her grip.

She tilted her head a bit. “Why?” Her eyes peered up at him. “Why do you wish to help me?”

Richard stared down into her dark eyes. He took a chance and removed his hand from the sword. He brought the hand up, and touched his fingers to the cold metal collar around his neck.

“I, too, am a prisoner. I, too, know what it is to be held by a collar. I don’t like collars. Though I can’t free myself in this way, I can try to free you.”

Her ferocious grip on his arm relaxed. She cocked her head to the side as she frowned up at him.

“But you are a magic man.”

That’s why I was taken prisoner. The woman I’m with is taking me to a place called the Palace of the Prophets. She says the magic will kill me if I don’t go to this place.”

“You are with one of the witches? From the big stone witch house?”

“She is not a witch, but one with magic, too. She put this collar on me to make me go with her.”

Du Chaillu’s eyes flicked over the collar around his neck.

“If you let me go, the Majendie will not allow you to go through their land to the big stone house.”

Richard gave her a little smile. “I was hoping that if I helped you get back to your people, you would permit us to pass through your land, and maybe that you would guide us, so that we might reach the palace.”

A sly smile spread on her lips. “We could kill the witch.”

Richard shook his head. “I don’t kill people unless I’m forced to. It would not help anyway. I must go to the palace to get my collar off. If I don’t go there, I will die.”

Du Chaillu looked away from his gaze. Richard waited while she glanced around her prison.

“I do not know if you speak the truth, or if you mean to cut my throat.” She gently rubbed his arm where she had bitten him. “But if you kill me, I was to be killed anyway, and had no chance, and at least I will not be mounted any more by those dogs. If you tell the truth, then I will be free, but we must still escape. We are still in the land of the Majendie.”

Richard winked. “I have a plan. At least we can try.”

She frowned at him. “You could do this thing to me, and they would be happy, and you could go to the palace. You would be safe. Are you not afraid they will kill you?”

Richard nodded. “But I am .more afraid to live the rest of my life seeing in my mind your pretty eyes and wishing I had helped you.”

She gave him a sidelong glance. “Maybe you are a magic man, but you are not a smart man. A smart man would want to be safe.”

“I am the Seeker.”

“What is this, the Seeker?”

“It’s a long story. But I guess it means I do my best to see the truth prevail, to see right done. This sword has magic, and it helps me in my quest. It’s called the Sword of Truth.”

She let out a long breath, and finally laid her head back in his lap. Try then, or kill me. I was dead anyway.”

Richard gave her filthy, bare back a pat of reassurance. “Hold still.”

He reached under her neck and wrapped his fingers around the collar, holding it tight. With his other hand, the hand on the hilt, the hand through which the magic was coursing into him, he gave a mighty heave. With a loud crack, the iron shattered. Hot shards of metal ricocheted off the walls. One large piece spun like a top in the dirt, finally wobbling and falling over. Silence settled over them. He held his breath, hoping none of the metal fragments had cut her throat.