He looks like a real stickler, no chance he’d try to do anything on his own.
More dangerously untrue words had not been spoken. Hamasa grunted and moaned, head throbbing and waist caught in an iron bar wrapped too tightly around him. He thought the blisters on his hands and the ache in his muscles after a full day of farming had been bad. It was nothing compared to the constant jostling and chafing a saddle created on his bum and inner thighs.
“You can become your true self,” Valerius the definitely doing something on his own Lance said after the thousandth or so pained moan.
“I don’t know w-what you’re talking about,” Hamasa replied through clenched teeth.
They were the first words they had exchanged all morning; it was well on to being noon. It didn’t take a conversation to be kidnapped. No, all it took was Hamasa waking up in the middle of the night, woken by a strange noise. He had known, dimly, he should return to his warm bed and ignore any sounds, but there had been such an intriguing scent, sharp and fresh, that had dragged Hamasa out the door in a nightshirt and poncho—a newer gift from Irmen that he wore as often as possible; it was just so cold at night—loose breeches, and sandals he barely remembered to shove his feet into. Just after shuffling outside, a bag had covered his head and a hard thump had him out like a light.
The next thing he knew, he was waking up to Valerius at his back, a horse under him, and a barely beaten track in front of them through the trees. Hamasa scowled in remembrance of how easy it had been to capture him. And what had that scent been? It couldn’t have been…
“I saw them.”
Hamasa started slightly at Valerius’ abrupt and nonsensical statement. He should ignore the knight, focus his scattered brains and plan an escape. Marya might be on their trail, so it was up to Hamasa to at least get free.
“Saw?” he asked instead. I shouldn’t have said that! Marya’s right, I’m such an idiot.
“Your eyes. I know I saw them. They were yellow, like flames.”
Fear raced down Hamasa’s spine. “That’s ridiculous. Humans don’t have yellow eyes.”
“No, humans don’t. Eyes like that, I don’t need to see the rest of your face to know who and what you are.”
“The rest of my—?” Hamasa’s hands tightened around the saddle horn between his knees. “My eyes are brown,” he said, firmly. He would not let his curiosity get the better of him again.
“Perhaps they are now.”
Hamasa bit down on his bottom lip and forced himself into silence. Nothing good would come of keeping up this circular conversation. The Lance didn’t seem to be much of a conversationalist, either. For the rest of the day—so long, too long—the only sounds were the steady thudding of hooves to hard-beaten earth. Occasionally, it was the rustle of leaves and unseen forest dwellers added to the near silence. Hamasa wondered if the native Mekshi forest sprites, chanaces, or the shy, crossroad-dwelling dende, were hiding among the trees somewhere. If he called out, would they help him? Would they even be able to tell what was hiding under his skin? Would that make it worse or better?
“We’ll stop here.”
Hamasa almost wept in relief at the announcement that came hours and hours later, the forest around them already long sunk into gloom. Most likely only the well-being of the horse travelling in the dark had prompted Valerius’ halt. It was embarrassing and painful trying to get down, made more humiliating when the knight had to help Hamasa when he whimpered like an infant. The cold metal of his armor pressed against Hamasa’s cheek, his large hands somehow gentle despite the unyielding grip on Hamasa’s arms. He stumbled the moment Valerius let him go. Valerius stared inscrutably down at him, his eyes boring into Hamasa’s and making him cringe.
“W-What?” Hamasa squeaked, cringing even more at the terrified sound of his voice. Valerius pulled out a short length of rope and tied Hamasa’s hands behind his back, brisk and quick, but not rough. He bent down a second later, causing the smaller man to squawk in bewilderment, but he only hobbled Hamasa’s ankles with another length of rope
Only.
“You’re not what I remember,” the Lance said at last after he got to his feet.
Who is this? Remember me from when?! Hamasa frowned, but his heart was already pumping at the first opening he’d had to press his story. “B-Because I’m not what you think I am! I’m not… I’m no one’s Shield. I’m just m-me.”
“Why are you talking like that?” Valerius asked, eyes narrowing. “You shouldn’t be talking like that.”
Hamasa’s entire face flamed crimson, blood rushing up so fast his fingers and toes tingled in a way that had nothing to do with the ropes. “I can’t hepp how I tark!”
Valerius scowled darkly before turning on his heel and unbuckling various bags from the saddle of his horse without another word. Hamasa shuffled awkwardly, trying to convince himself not to feel—of all things—guilty. He wasn’t the one pointing out how Valerius talked. Hamasa glanced around as Valerius unpacked, wondering: if he ran now, how far would he get? If Valerius didn’t get on the horse bareback, then he had a chance. A bigger chance if he… didn’t quite hold back his speed.
First, he would have to figure out the ropes. He had options that could help, but he really didn’t want to use them. Not already. Not ever.
Hamasa settled against a tree and slowly slid down to the dirt. Everything in him told him to do anything he could to get away, to run and keep running. It had been a mistake to stay with the Garsias as long as I had. A huge mistake, he thought. His knees drew close to his chest and he leaned forward, trying in vain to get some pressure off his arms and shoulders. Watching Valerius, looking for the opportune moment, that should’ve been the most prevalent thing on his mind. Instead he dropped his forehead to his knees and squeezed his eyes shut.
What are you doing, Hamasa? Get up! You can get up, so do it! You only need a little—
But he was frozen, every muscle locked tight and shaking. Hamasa could still feel it; that overwhelming terror, the pain that scored its way deep into his flesh, the sound of his own screams as rushing wind tore his voice away.
I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.
Breaths were coming too fast and choppy, brain spinning wildly in his head as sparks bloomed in the darkness behind his eyelids. He could hear his heart thundering too hard in his chest. A slow flickering warmth crawled over his limbs.
A hand on his back, hesitant and unsure. “Your breathing sounds uneven.”
Hamasa would’ve laughed, but he only wheezed breathlessly. There was a schnick of metal in leather followed a moment later by tugging and yanking at his wrists. The rope fell away. He dragged in air as if he were breaking through the surface of water and fell forward to brace himself upon trembling arms that burned with a strange tingling along his very nerves.
“Slowly, my lord. Breathe slowly.”
“I-I’m—” cough cough “—n-not a rord!”
Valerius’ hand patted his back without a word. He stilled, eerily tense, and Hamasa looked up with blurry eyes and drool at the corners of his mouth from choking. The knight was looking off to the side, through the growing shadows under the trees. Hamasa wiped at his mouth with his numb-ish wrist and Valerius got to his feet. He left Hamasa on the ground to go pick up his pole-arm. At one point, Valerius must have started a tiny fire while Hamasa had been not-so-silently panicking, and the flames glinted on the three prongs topping the weapon.
A trident.
Hamasa gawped at his broad back walking away from their temporary rest area, and he knew. He knew exactly who this Lance was now. Salt stung his eyes, disbelief making his breath stutter. No. There had to be a mistake. Surely more than just one Lance used a trident.
“Show yourself,” Valerius commanded into the trees around them. Although he had removed helmet and gauntlets, he was still in his armor and was a fearsome sight with his trident in hand.
The woods here were neither very old nor very deep, but there was enough forest to create shadows to hide in. Hamasa struggled to his feet with his ankles still loosely hobbled— not even Valerius’ steed was hobbled, Hamasa noticed in embarrassment. A branch crunched underfoot somewhere in the trees. His tongue flicked over his bottom lip, nostrils flaring, but he could only smell his own body heavily overlaid with horse sweat.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” A small figure wielding what looked like a long stick jumped from the shadows and swung with all its might.
Valerius dodged expertly, not even using his trident to brush the attack away. The newcomer held up the stick—a staff perhaps?—and went swinging feverishly at Valerius, despite being half Valerius’ size and armor-less. Hamasa licked his lips and glanced at the horse, then edged closer without thinking it through completely.
“You giant bastard! How’d ya think you can just steal my friend? I’m gonna kick your tin pail gulo!”
“M-Marya?” Hamasa gasped, neck creaking he whipped around so fast to look again.
To indeed see Marya trying her best to wallop the beyond much better trained knight. There were already sweaty, dark patches growing under her arms and over her chest and back, and heavy rings under her eyes. Marya looked over at his gasp, attention broken for only a second, but it was all Valerius needed. With a move too fast to see or for Marya to dodge, he knocked the staff out of Marya’s poor grip and flipped Marya over his shoulder through the air in almost the same moment.
Marya flew with a shocked yelp and thudded into a tree. Another thud to the ground had Hamasa wincing. He hurriedly hobbled towards his fallen friend, but tripped on his rope within a few steps. A strong arm captured him around the waist before he could hit the dirt.
“I know you’re out there, too. She didn’t chase us the entire day on foot,” Valerius said to the trees, ignoring Marya’s low groan and Hamasa’s wriggling to get free.
The tall knight with the kind face walked into the clearing leading his huge horse. He stopped to hold out a hand to Marya. She huffed and brushed his hand away to get up alone.
“Valerius, what were you thinking kidnapping an innocent man?”
“Is it kidnapping if he’s not a child?”
“It’s not like you to split hairs.”
Valerius and the tall knight stared each other down. Marya stepped forward, arms crossed, feet planted wide, and curly hair frizzing around her face and shoulders. Hamasa hadn’t seen it free of the customary horsetail braid and was mildly surprised at the volume of it.
“Let him go. He’s done nothing wrong!”
The long, silent gaze broke when Valerius glanced at Marya with eyebrows raised. “From what I understand, my lord appeared mysteriously in this area approximately three weeks ago. How would you know?”
“I haven’t done anything! Just r-let me go!” Hamasa exclaimed, shoving at Valerius’ arm and chest. It was like trying to move a mountain.
“Valerius, I know you think he’s the Shield, but it doesn’t make any sense! He’s just a young man, a small weakly-looking one at that.”
Hamasa wanted to be offended, but, well… He sighed and slumped over Valerius’ arm.
“Whatever he looks like now, it’s just a disguise. He arrived here almost three weeks ago, left a depression in the earth that could account for falling from the sky, he has the same name, and I saw his eyes, Kelso,” Valerius gritted out, arm tightening around Hamasa’s waist rather protectively. Hamasa kept his eyes on the thrice-cursed rope tied around his ankles.
“They’re all coincidences, Valerius!” Kelso said, almost desperately. “You can’t even be sure of what you saw. You forget faces the moment you look away. I’ve known that since we were pages together.”
“Are you seriously thinking Hamasa, the kid who can’t even cast a spell or hold a hoe right, is a dragon in disguise?” Marya burst out, jabbing her finger at Valerius and glaring ferociously.
Silence fell as his would-be-rescuers looked at Hamasa. Who, he himself knew with all too much certainty, looked pretty pathetic. Drool stained the sides of his mouth, his eyes were bloodshot and damp, and his face too pale and wan.
“You’re a real bag of nuts in the head, arencha?” Marya accused Valerius, gaze flinty and pissed.
Hamasa sighed. “That’s not a nice thing to say, Marya.”
“I am perfectly sane. Hamasa is Kana’iro the Red, the Shield of the Sovereign, who went missing three weeks ago. I will take him back to the Sovereign and she’ll know it, too,” Valerius said firmly, tone hard and unflinching.
Kelso muttered under his breath and rubbed a hand through his hair. “I can keep the others from following.”
“What!? You said you’d help me, not him! He’s crazy!”
“M-Marya, please, don’t make this worse,” Hamasa pleaded from where he hung trapped in the crook of Valerius’ arm. “You can’t win this fight.” Marya’s nostrils flared.
“Valerius is not crazy, Señorita Garsia, which is why I have to let him do this. He’ll keep your friend safe.” Kelso met Hamasa’s weary eyes. “I promise no harm will come to you in his care. If he’s wrong, you’ll be escorted to wherever you wish in every comfort the Sovereign can provide you.” He paused and rubbed a hand over his sweat-darkened blonde hair. “It’s not often he’s wrong, though.”
“And this gulero will be punished, right?” Marya demanded.
“If I’m wrong, they’ll strip me of my title and of my position in the Lances.”
Hamasa startled in Valerius’ grip and stared, slack-jawed, up at him. Valerius calmly returned their gazes.
“You’re m-making a m-mistake,” Hamasa whispered, gaze dropping to the ground.
“I don’t believe you! And I don’t trust you to keep Hamasa safe. Not if you think he’s some sorta dragon. I’m coming with you, and, as soon as you’re proved wrong, I’ll make sure you get punished,” Marya said with a loud snort and eye-roll.
Hamasa honestly didn’t know what to feel about this turn of events. Relief that Marya believed him without a doubt? Or guilt that the belief came so easily to her, and with so little evidence to support it? Hurt—no, best not go there. Not even in the relative safety of his own thoughts.
“That is not a good idea. Return to your home,” Valerius told Marya.
“You can’t tell me what to do!” Marya retorted. “I’m coming with you. For Hamasa.”
“You don’t have a horse. You will slow us down and make the journey more dangerous,” Valerius argued.
“Señorita Garsia, maybe it would be best…” Kelso began slowly. Marya rounded on him and raised both her fists high. He quickly held up his hands in surrender.
“If she wants to come, I would ri-like her to come,” Hamasa murmured, stomach squirming. He felt Valerius tense at his back. “She and her mother have been so kind, and she’s uh… my friend…” He looked up hesitantly to meet Marya’s eyes. She smiled at him, her fists falling.
“Fine, my lord. The girl comes with us. It’ll be on your head if she’s injured,” Valerius said flatly. Hamasa flinched, stomach squirming more. Marya whooped.
“As I said, I’ll keep the squad away, but you’ll definitely need this if Señorita Garsia joins you. Here.” Kelso threw a small pouch towards Valerius. At last, his arm dropped from Hamasa’s waist to catch the pouch. Coins rattled. “Use my earnings to make sure they get what they need. It’s a long journey, especially with only one horse and with these two who aren’t accustomed to the road. Also, Valerius,” Kelso paused with a lopsided smirk, “I know subterfuge isn’t your style, but you should probably keep your armor and any crests hidden. You’re a rogue knight now.”
Valerius’ stony features twisted into outrage that almost had Hamasa actually laughing. Almost.