The Reader

Chapter Three - The Standoff

The corporal was ghost-white. His men snatched sideways glances of one another, lowering their aim hesitantly. None of them knew what to do. They had never been in such a situation before.

With great effort, Merric finally found his voice.

"Step down, Corporal," he said. The small man gratefully obeyed, turning a delicate shade of pink. "Lower your aim," Merric added to the squad. They, too, followed his orders.

The woman returned her gaze to Merric. She looked unsure, was he saving her or condemning her? Merric took a careful step forward raising his hands to show her he was unarmed. Like a cornered deer she seemed ready to flee.

Put Tom down," Merric asked her gently.

She shook her head back and forth slowly, never taking her eyes from him.

"Please," Merric added.

Another shake of the head.

"You're only making things worse for yourself. Do you want to add kidnapping to attempted robbery?"

"I'm leaving here," she replied, voice strong despite her unease. "You'll not charge me for either."

"Do you really think you can escape this fortress?" Merric asked, incredulity sneaking into his tone. "The walls are solid stone. There are three portcullises to pass through. Even if you manage to pass through the first one, the next two will trap you. It was designed to keep people both out and in."

Her answer was to stare blankly at him. Silence descended like a black cloak, the only sound being Tom's panicked gasping. The blood which had seeped sluggishly to his collar was now drying black in the heat. It seemed that the entire compound was waiting on tender-hooks for her answer.

"Let Tom go, and I promise no-one will harm you," Merric said, breaking the hush.

She flicked her eyes to the men surrounding them, noting the slack way they held their weapons. The bombastic corporal seemed to have lost his nerve and was content to let Merric negotiate. He stood idle behind his troops, hands clasped. Next she looked to the battlements, and it was only then that Merric realised that other soldiers had taken interest in their standoff. The men who had taken over guard-duty were now staring down their crossbows, directly at her.

"Lower your weapons!" he called to them. "Lower them right now or I'll court-martial the lot of you!"

They hesitated, reluctant to obey. This woman was obviously a threat, to have over-powered two such strong men as Tom and Merric. Not a man in the camp could equal such a feat. They continued to keep their weapons trained on her, debating whether or not it was worth it to obey.

"Now," Merric commanded in a powerful voice. His words echoed around the silent courtyard, and in their wake the guards slowly lowered their aim. A few kept their fingers near the lever, but Merric could live with that. He was proud that they were so suspicious, that was what made good guards.

He turned back to the woman, feeling perspiration dripping down the back of his neck. She was watching him with an intense look that made her icy eyes seem like they were piercing his very soul. Tom was steadily turning red under the pressure of the woman's arm around his neck. Nervously, he swallowed and Merric watched the red line, product of the dagger, ride the wave of his muscles. It was disturbingly fascinating.

"Please ... put Tom down," he pleaded, trying not to sound desperate. He was, Tom was a good friend.

The woman hesitated. She looked once more to her horse, and then again to the battlements. "Promise me safe passage out," she said, turning back to Merric. Though she did well to mask it, he could see how frightened she was. He admired her tenacity under such circumstances.