“Men, take these slaves back for punishment,” the King ordered, and the knight closest to them lifted Jack under the arm, shoving him toward another. Another threw Jill over his shoulder. She squealed and protested, but there was no resisting all of them. “Mother, you will be punished as well.”
She had known, of course. She waited.
“The King’s property is not your own to do with as you wish,” George reminded her, trying to catch her attention again, but she refused to face him.
“You will be given to George,” the King said with a sharp nod. His face twisted in distaste as he looked between them. “Perhaps he can keep you in line.”
“I’ll kill myself first,” Mother said through clenched teeth, glancing behind her, wondering if she could make it past the dispersing knights through the portal in time.
The King sighed. “Men, take her.”
Three of them descended, and it took all of their strength to subdue her. Mother found herself, hair disheveled, shirt ripped, breeches torn, but arms now tied as they situated her in front of the knight she had run into coming out of the portal, his strong arm keeping her in place. She noted with satisfaction that two of them had cuts on their faces from the heels of her boots.
“I’m closing the portal!” The King announced. “It’s brought enough mischief.”
“Nooo!” Mother wailed as the King called his magician forward. The man, hooded in black, dismounted and stood in front of the enormous rock, holding up two very wrinkled, old hands as if in prayer. His words were unintelligible, but Mother knew exactly what he was doing-taking away her hope, her possibility of freedom.
“It is done, your majesty.” The old man mounted again, with the help of one of the King’s men. Another knight moved forward on the King’s command to test it, and indeed, his chest hit solid rock on his attempt to move through the portal.
“No,” Mother whispered, choking back tears as the knight, his body pressed tight behind hers, nickered to his horse and pulled on the reins.
“Take good care not to harm her too much.” George leered at them, looking up in his saddle. “That’s my job.”
Mother had visions of killing him in his sleep as they began the ride back toward the King’s estate. Her horses were tied and led along behind them, and Mother strained to look past, glimpsing one last view of the portal, where even if Artan wasn’t dead-she couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t-he would never be able to come through again. Her shoulders slumped at the thought and, defeated, she let her tears come silently, her hair falling in her face to hide them.
She heard George talking to the King, a ways ahead. He spoke loudly, and knew it was for her benefit. “She’s looking more compliant already, your majesty.” Mother shuddered, gripping the pommel in front of her until her knuckles turned white, not sure she could endure any more of him. And this ride back to the King’s estate would be nothing compared to what was waiting for her afterward. The thought of George touching her, even looking at her, made her breath catch and her stomach churn. She couldn’t possibly allow it. For Artan’s sake alone, she couldn’t.
She acted almost without thinking. The knight holding her had sensed her defeat and let go, focusing on easing his horse back down the hill and into the forest. It was here, at the long stretch of woods, that she plunged to what surely could have been her death, flipping herself head first toward the ground. Stunned, breathless, she found herself still alive, neck not broken, looking up at the belly of the horse as it stepped over her, and she struggled to her feet.
They came after her. Of course they did, on horseback, much faster than she could run, but she did have a slight head start. She zigged and zagged, moving
between trees, heading toward denser parts, knowing she could fit through smaller spaces than any horse. She flew like the wind, and when she was finally out of their sight-just for a moment-she hid beneath a hollow log, covering herself with brush and leaves and dirt, willing her breath away, praying they would go.
She didn’t know how long it took, but finally, they did go, the King vowing to come back with the dogs, and she knew he would. Of course, they wouldn’t just be any dogs, not regular domesticated dogs, but rather the dog-humans, whose sense of smell was ten times greater, who could track a man through water if they had to.
And where was she going to go? There was no portal left, no escape.
She unveiled herself carefully, slowly, listening to the sounds of the forest around her to make sure they were gone. When she was positive, she stood, leaning against a tree for a moment to regain her footing, her balance, her composure. Gathering her thoughts, she turned in the direction of the portal and began to walk. It was worth a chance, she thought. Perhaps the magician had left a hole, a gap, somewhere she could slip through.
She tried to keep herself down low in the tall grass, walking beside the path rather than on it, afraid of being out in the open, knowing the King might have posted a scout to watch for just this possibility. The portal stood, as it always had, looking huge and solid, but it had always been deceiving that way. Mother contemplated it for a moment, reaching a tentative hand out to touch its surface.
“No,” she whispered when her fingers touched the hard, rough surface, refusing to move through. She pressed harder, but the object was immovable. “No!” Frantic, she
searched the edges of the stone for resistance, scraping her fingernails against the rock, front and back, finally resorting to beating it with her fists. “No! No! No!” Finally, she collapsed, exhausted, sobbing on the ground. There was nothing left for her, then. Nothing. The world she’d left behind didn’t mean anything without the hope of Artan returning, and the other world she’d hoped to join was now inaccessible to her. Her future was beyond bleak, but she didn’t even care, her grief to raw and open to allow her to think much past her punishment. She didn’t fear it. She didn’t even fear death. What she couldn’t face was living without even a thread of hope that Artan would come for her.
She pressed her wet cheek to the cool dirt, closing her eyes, her thoughts returning to the last happy moment she’d had here, on a blanket spread wide in the field, feeding Artan fresh picked berries and honey. His bornday, her special surprise their picnic alone and a medallion he’d been searching for, found and brought through the portal by Willie in great secret.
She remembered the light in his eyes when he opened her gift, his face a mix of pleasure and disbelief. “Maren! Where did you find this?!”
“The man in the moon,” she teased. “Is it what you’ve been looking for?” He nodded, lifting it slowly in the bright sunlight, turning its silver surface over, studying the markings. “This here.” He pointed to the star shape on the back. “It’s authentic. You’ve found the real thing.”
“Well I should hope so,” she laughed and then mock-pouted, stretching out on the blanket. “You have no idea the hardship I went through to get it. Oh, the trials…!”
He grinned, leaning over to kiss her deeply, breathing her in, his hand pressing her naked breast, and then sliding down the firm, smooth flat plane of her belly.
“Now,” she whispered, threading her arms around his neck. “Let’s get busy making that baby we keep talking about.”
His eyes softened, and he leaned in to kiss her again, this time briefly, a place holder. “I’ll be right back!”
“Artan!” She called after him, laughing, shading her eyes to see him shimmering through the portal. It was the last time she saw him-his smile roguish, his dark, curly hair too long and in need of a cut, wearing the medallion she’d given him as a gift.