Page 30 of The Princess Tied

Ruff was running at his heels, or was it her heels?

No, it was too craggy and well-muscled to be a woman, though she couldn’t figure out what she was seeing until he surged from the thin line of grass, spilling onto the road and staggering as if he’d missed his footing—not surprising, that. The road had more holes than road.

He was tall, though a couple of heads shorter than Ruth. Not a giant, not as broad as her either, but a big man.

His face slipped into a stunned sort of frozen state, as if he’d not realized they were watching, and the man looked from John to Ruth to Po.

“Greetings!” he exclaimed. “I haven’t seen anyone for a week.”

She wasn’t sure what he was, due to the right half of him being made of something resembling metal, except that his face still moved when he spoke. From the long sleeves of his faded shirt, one arm emerged as a fleshy hand, the other was dull metal and it clasped the parasol’s handle. His metal half-mouth, cheeks, and eyebrows moved.

If his right leg were metal, she couldn’t tell, due the boots and the pair of brown pants concealing them.

Po kept cataloguing.

One fleshy normal eye. Brown iris, staring at her.

One metal socket gleaming, empty and eerie.

From beneath his beaten straw hat ventured half a head of tangled russet hair.

Where hers was scarlet, his qualified as rust-brown, and it flopped about like dead tentacles.

What are you, was the question on her tongue. It would be rude to say that, so she stayed silent.

“What in the name of several Hells are you?” John drawled, leaning forward in the saddle. “And why’d you scream?”

Ignoring John, Ruth inclined her head at the half-metal man. “My name is Ruth, good sir, I am a dwarf giant and banished from my tribe, as I suspect you must be also. You are a cyclan warrior? Perhaps we can exchange stories as we sit and eat a snack with you?”

“I am that, yes. I’m called Shades,” he said slowly. “That is quite a kind invitation. To answer you, sir.” He nodded to John. “I found my eye today, after searching the battlefield where I lost it for two years. Today is a day to celebrate. I am indeed a cyclan warrior. Or I should say, ex-cyclan. I’m a peaceful man, I promise you.”

“Uh-huh. Then, I guess we can sit with you.” John swung a leg over the saddle and slid to the ground. “I think we’re all ready to rest awhile.” He skewered Po with a glance. “Dismount.”

Absentmindedly Po nodded, being occupied by both this new person and Ruth.

Ruth was a puzzle. Where had she come from? How strange and awful to be rejected by your people. Although she had undoubtedly supplied John with things that her innocent princess brain had been horrified by, she did not seem unkindly.

Po slipped from Pearbottom and left the horse free to graze.

The mountainous Ruth sauntered at her side as they made their way to a clearing where a handcart waited for Shades—he went to it and pulled a pack from the depths. A few trees straggled their leafless boughs over the boundaries, and an old firepit simmered with smoke.

“Do you know everything?” she said quietly to Ruth, who looked down at her.

“Enough. I have been traveling for a long time.” Her brow crinkled, folding into the places on it that showed the marks of age, or lots of frowning.

“Your people rejected you? That is awful.”

“It was. I grew too large and frightened them, I think. I was a strange thing. I began as a regular dwarf child and then, as you can see, I kept going when I should have stopped.”

“Hmmm. Yes.” Po brushed off dust then sat on a smooth rock. “That’s an error a lot of people make—keeping going when they should stop. But your cause is genetic, and not your fault.”

She shrugged. “To them it made no difference, and it has taught me to be tolerant to others. It also gave me strength and that has given me the freedom to go where I wish to go. I am… moderately happy.”

“I see.”

“I like to help people find themselves, and like this—big, strong…” She gestured at her body. “I can do it a lot.”

“Of course.”