Chapter Sixteen

After running all night, she took a brief walk to enjoy the balmy weather. She had a good time in the cool of the night. She checked the local landmarks and knew she had run thirty miles. A long journey lay ahead of her.

The first day of the westward trek brought hot temperatures and high humidity from the southeastern coast. On the second day, the wind shifted to the northeast, and the temperature dropped. Winter's onslaught brought continuous rain for three weeks.

Sore feet plagued her and hindered her ability to run. She felt every stone or limb she stepped on. The soles on her boots were worn thin. She chided herself for failing to buy new boots before her money ran out. She threw her worn-out socks away. The curled-up edges made her toes hurt.

Sleet and snow fell on her for a week. It slowed her progress. The temperature continued to drop at a tremendous rate. Her hair-out, hooded coat kept her upper body warm and dry. Although the stink of wet goat hair surrounded her, she thanked the Creator for it. It must have belonged to a billy goat.

Despite the smell and the growing numbness in her feet, her spirit remained high. She would reach Watermelon’s cave by noon. She would spend a day eating, relaxing, and warming her feet near a fire. The Myth may have taken her money, but he didn’t know what Watermelon had secreted in the cave. He had not caught her or defeated her yet.

She didn’t concern herself with leaving tracks in the snow. It wouldn’t take long for the large snowflakes to fill them. Maybe he wasn’t as bright as he thought or others believed. She laughed. He was scouring the slop-filled streets of Jasmine for her. She felt good.

She reached the rock projection concealing the cave entrance, crawled under it, and climbed into the overhead cavern. She sat with her numb feet hanging out of the narrow hole until she stacked enough tinder for a fire. She struck two flints together and struck a spark. She spotted a giant limb in the flickering light, pulled it to her, and placed the big end on the fire. Then she raised her feet inside and put them near the rising flames. The heat permeated her wet, cold boots and warmed her frigid feet. The tingling sensation brought back the memory of her first night in the cavern.

She sat in the radiant light and stared into the darkness. She would have frozen to death if Watermelon had not protected her. She raised her knees, laid her arms across them, cradled her head on her arms, and closed her eyes.

She awoke with a start. The huffing of a mountain cat reverberated from the depths of the cave. Krinna grabbed the limb off the fire for a torch and ran to the ledge where she had left Watermelon’s bags.

Krinna stepped on a round object and lost her balance. She heard cracking bones as her right knee struck the stone floor. She shined the light on the object of her demise.

The empty, accusing eye sockets of a dried human skull stared at her. She lowered the flame and marked the puncture holes from the cat’s enormous teeth. Crushed portions of skull bones lay among the broken, scattered skeletal bones. The cat coughed again. A smaller cat growled. They were closer.

She quickly hobbled to the shelf and grabbed the pack. His money bags were gone. Her desperate cry of frustration caused silence to fill the darkness. Chiding herself for her foolish weakness, she hobbled toward the entrance.

A small mass of furry, feline fury with sharp teeth and claws attacked her sore leg. She shoved the flaming stick in its face. A burnt hair odor preceded the kitten’s terrified screech—a horrific roar with two yellow glaring eyes charged around a projection in the cave wall.

Krinna fled for her life. She held the torch behind her, hoping to blind the mother cat and make her escape temporarily. The yowling kit crossed her path and caused the lioness to stumble. She threw the torch at her and dove through the escape hole. She landed on her sore knee and hurried out of danger as the lioness’ leg with extended claws raked the rock behind her. Terrified, she ran a quarter of a mile in the deep snow before stopping.

Four inches of fresh snow covered the trail. She examined the contents of Watermelon’s pack. A small knife, dried meat, and stale bread were quickly removed. Placing the knife and meat in her pockets, she tossed the molded bread away.

A further search revealed a bag within the pack. She was delighted when she found a pair of hard-soled, hair-out boots. Knee-length wool stockings were tucked inside them. She hugged them to her breast.

“Watermelon,” she wept, “only you could be so considerate.” She searched until she located a spot without deep snow. Sitting on frozen ground, she removed her useless boots and threw them away. Krinna pulled the woolen stockings up over her legs. Immediately, the soft wool warmed her feet. Tears flooded her eyes. She wiped them off. She reached for a boot but couldn’t see it. Her blurred vision prevented it.

“What is wrong with me?” she asked, exasperated with herself. Again, she cleaned her eyes and picked up the right boot. Slipping her right foot into it, she tied it around her calve. The second one quickly followed.

She leaned against a boulder, folded her knees, and allowed the heat to go up her trouser legs. It felt good, almost as good as when she awoke naked under the blanket with Watermelon. His hairy chest felt good, too.

Tears poured down her cold cheeks. She ignored them. Heavy snow mounded on her stiff, still figure. “I have got to break this melancholy mood. He’s gone. It’s over with. I dealt with him. Now, I need to deal with the Myth.”

After standing to her feet, she brushed the snow from her clothing and began the long downhill trek to the gorge. White billowy snow covered everything. Several times, she slipped and fell on the underlying ice. She lost count of the times she wandered away from the trail before she reached the swinging bridge over the abysmal river.

Extreme winds kept the swinging bridge free of snow. She estimated that four inches of ice covered the walkway and two inches clung to the retaining ropes. The back of a sword blade made an excellent icebreaker. She broke the ice from one rope and carefully stepped onto the bridge. Grasping the clean rope with her right hand, she chopped ice with her left hand. She made her way slowly across Robber’s Gulch. Icy wind gusts flared under her hair coat and threatened to lift her over the support rope into the chasm below. Frigid air next to her skin made her shiver and shake. She nearly lost her handhold on the rope from shaking so hard. She had to get off the swinging death trap.

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She exhaled a sigh of relief as her feet touched the far cliff. She stomped them on the ground to cause the blood to circulate and warm her feet. If she remembered correctly, a gentle grade led up to the Gulch. Six uphill miles separated her from the warmth of a soft bed and a nice juicy steak.

Tall, dark, shadowy sentinels appeared through the driving snow. Krinna drew a blade and prepared to defend herself against the ghostly apparitions. They didn’t advance toward her. She grew weak from the cold, lack of food, and heat. Boldly, she moved and tripped over something buried under the snow. Her foot hooked on a buried object. Her body crashed into the deep snow. It was too dangerous for her to lie in the cold, white blanket. Lying in it too long would bring swift death, so she forced herself to get up. Finding the strength was a struggle for several minutes before she gained her feet. She squinted her eyes against the blinding flakes. A dark shadow appeared on her left. She slashed at it with her sword. The weapon was stuck in solid wood. A stiff gust of wind swept up from the abyss and knocked her forward. The sword wrenched free as she collided with a glass door. Thank the Creator, she thought, I made it to the Gulch.

She cried with relief as she peered into the Sweaty Hog’s interior. Ice framed the glass panes in the wall. Careful not to touch the glass with her bare skin, she prayed the door latch would be free. If she broke a window pane, it would allow freezing air to enter the building. It popped loose when she tripped it. A quick prayer was thrown up to the Creator as she pushed it open, entered, closed the door, and dropped the locking bar into place. Silence filled the empty room.

She stood quietly near the entrance, listening for any man-made noise. The only sound heard was the stiff wind beating against the exterior walls and around the empty restaurant. The boards creaked, and occasionally, a strong gust whistled through a forlorn crack. Satisfied, she dropped her weapons harness on the floor and moved toward the kitchen. A large box of split firewood and tender sat near the wood stove.

After placing some of the tender in the firebox, she built a fire. A strong breeze caused it to flicker. She drew a blade and hid behind the door facing. No sound came from the dining room. Krinna peeked around the corner to ensure the front door was secured. Her wet footprints showed on the cold, dusty floor.

Unable to determine why the flame flickered, she went to the stove and added dry wood. Heat filled the room as the furnace turned red. Krinna dumped her pack on a butcher’s block and searched the pantry for staples. She found a metal container filled with dry beans. She turned and stumbled over a small, raised portion of the floorboard. Her mind vaguely registered beans scattering across the floor as her face hit the block.

She felt ice-cold as she woke shivering on the wooden floor. Voices penetrated her subconscious mind. They didn’t make sense. Her head throbbed. What happened to cause the pain? Opening her eyes, she failed to focus on anything. She was alone, but she heard voices. Were they in her head or the room? What room? The Sweating Hog restaurant flashed through her muddled thoughts. She had returned to the restaurant during a blizzard. She attempted to touch her face by moving her right arm. Something restricted her movement.

She tried to focus on her right hand. Three of them were attached to her arm. Not knowing which one belonged to her, she wiggled her fingers. Twelve fingers waved at her. That didn’t help. She thought.

Male voices continued to assault her ears. Somewhere, two men conversed in the room. Raising her head, she glanced at them and put her head down. Each shadowy man had a twin. Closing her eyes, she tried to concentrate on their words. She jerked her head up and looked again. No wonder she was cold. She was as naked as the day she was born. Fear grabbed her mind. What were their intentions? How stupid can I be? They are men. I’m trussed up for the kill. Now is the time to think.

“Ratter, we need to let her go,” Kal Kin said.

Feasting his eyes on Krinna’s naked body, he said, “I’m going to have my revenge.”

“I think we should leave her alone. You heard the word out of Jasmine City.”

“Look, Kal, some blowhard threatens to kill anyone who touches her. I have the first claim on her. Everyone is afraid of the Myth.”

“Who is he? No one has seen him. No one knows how he looks. They are afraid of a non-existent ghost. I’m not. Ghost, the Myth, whatever they call him, he can stay away from her. She is mine. When I’m finished with her, I’m going to cut her throat. Let’s see how he likes it.”

“When is supper ready?”

Kal turned to the stove and moved several pans around on the burners. “It will be about fifteen minutes.”

“That gives me a little time to prime my new girlfriend,” Ratter said, leaving the table. He unbuckled his belt as he walked toward Krinna.

“Ratter, don’t bother her, please. I have a hunch about her.”

“Shut up and mind your own business.”

Ratter stopped and gazed down on her cold nakedness. “That is rather stimulating, my dear,” he leered. He reached out to pinch her flesh and fell across her body.

Kal fixed two plates and carried them to a table. “The food is on the table, Ratter. You might want to eat it while it is hot,” he said, returning to the kitchen for freshly baked bread. He headed for the dining room and came to a stop.

A man, he thought it was a man, sat at the table eating Ratter’s food. A long, dark, woolen robe with a hood concealed his face. Long, delicate fingers held the spoon, transporting food to his mouth.

Unable to think of anything intelligent, Kal yelled, “You are eating Ratter’s meal.”

The spoon returned to the plate. The index finger on his right hand pointed toward him and then to the bench. With his left hand, he poured two glasses of fine wine.

Timidly, he sat down. Placing the warm bread on the oak table, he picked up his spoon and focused on the darkness beneath the hood. Without looking at his plate, he scooped food onto it. Slowly, he brought it to his mouth.

“Kal,” a very soft voice said, “you overstate the obvious.”

He jumped. He didn’t see where it came from, but it extended from his left hand. The man sliced off two generous portions of bread and gave one to him. Could the hooded individual be a wizard? He needed to tread lightly and not offend him. He bit off a healthy chunk and blinked his eyes. The knife had disappeared from the stranger’s hand.

“How did you do that?” he asked. Embarrassed, he stuffed another bite into his full mouth.

“Kal Kin, tonight I give you your life. After we finish our meal, you will let the girl go. Go out the rear door and enter the first building on the right. You will have food, shelter, and heat until the winter storm breaks.”

“But, what about Ratter? He is … is he?”

“That is an astute observation.”

“What does that mean?”

“Let’s not trouble our minds with the mysteries of life. We should eat the food before it grows cold.”

“Thank you. Are you the Myth?”

“I am her protector until he completes his contract.”

They finished their meal in silence. Kal stood and said, “I’ll wash things up before I leave.”

“Leave the food on the back of the stove for her.”

Kal gathered the dishes and carried them to the wash tub. He grabbed a wet rag and went to clean the table. The man was gone.

He finished his work and thought about moving Ratter’s corpse. If he did, then her naked body would be exposed. The stranger could be watching and become offended. He removed a blanket from Krinna’s pack and threw it over her and the body. With care, he cut her bonds with a boot knife. He picked up his gear and exited the back door.