Page 11 of War

This is a man made to be feared.

And for several long moments, I am afraid. I am thoroughly terrified of this grim creature.

But then good ol’ self-preservation kicks in.

I begin struggling against him. “Let me go.”

His response is to tighten the arm he has around my waist, his gaze moving to our surroundings.

“Seriously,” I say, trying and failing to shake his ironclad hold. “I’m not yourwife.”

War’s eyes snap back to mine, and for a split second, he appears surprised.

Maybe he doesn’t like the fact that I didn’t agree to this wife business, or maybe he didn’t realize I could understand him.

Whatever it is, he recovers quickly enough, his surprise draining away from his features. He doesn’t respond to me, and he doesn’t release me, instead driving his horse onwards through the city.

I struggle a little more against him, but it’s useless. His arm is like a manacle, shackling me to him.

“What are you going to do with me?” I demand. I sound shockingly calm. I don’t feel calm. I feel frazzled and freaked out.

Again, War doesn’t respond, though his grip tightens just a smidgen. Just enough to know exactly where his mind is.

I pinch my eyes shut, trying to keep out all the horrible images of what happens to women in war.

“Ne?et ?ar,” he says.

You are safe.

I nearly guffaw at that.

“From your blade, maybe.” Not from other things.

Maybe the horseman has eighty wives, each one a war prize he’s plucked from a different conquered city.

Oh God, that actually sounds plausible.

A wave of nausea rolls through me.

War unsheathes his sword as he rides through Jerusalem. The buildings are on fire, and the streets swarm with people—fighting, fleeing, dying.

I’ve seen my share of fights, but my home has never looked likethis, like a steaming heap of human savagery.

I stare at it all, dazed. I think shock might be setting in.

I can feel dozens of eyes on me as they take in me and War. Their fear is plain—no one expects to come face to face with one of these mythical, deadly horsemen—but I also sense a deeper terror. No one had realized that War might take prisoners, not until this moment when they see the proof sitting in his saddle. The sight of me must spawn a whole new set of fears.

Around here we know that sometimes a quick death is a better way to go.

The horseman begins to drive his steed forward at a punishing pace. His sword is still brandished and he steers his mount towards fleeing humans. Anytime he closes in on one, he takes a great swing of that mighty sword.

I have to close my eyes against the sight, but even still, I sometimes feel the sick spray of blood.

For a long time, I simply focus on not retching. It’s all I can manage. Escape is impossible with War’s viselike grip on me, and fighting—well, I already exhausted that avenue.

We move west through the city, back towards the hills I so recently visited. The horseman takes the same route out that we both took in.

City gives way to forest, and eventually the sounds of battle fade away. Out here, you’d never know an entire town was getting slaughtered.

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