The Sapphire Broach

Chapter 2 (rough draft)

Kenric Mannering hummed to himself. He sat with his arms crossed behind his head and rested against the trunk of a maple tree. His horse, a chestnut mare named Sweetie, nibbled on sprigs of grass nearby. His days enlisted in the tyrant-of-a-king's army were over. He had faithfully—though grudgingly—served for two years and now desired a relaxing journey home.

He missed his family and hoped they had fared well in his absence. His father had passed away four years earlier and Kenric had struggled to provide for his mother and seven siblings. When he could no longer keep food on their table, his mother had suggested he join the army. He had not wanted to go. Few in their village cared for the king who had claimed rights to the throne after the tragic death of the beloved King Gregory and Queen Gertrude and the mysterious disappearance of their daughter. His family had been desperate and the army paid well, so Kenric had gone.

Now he could leave his servitude behind and return to his family. He looked forward to his week-long trip home and hoped to relax and unwind after being a soldier for a cause he did not support.

He rubbed his hands through his light-brown hair and sighed while he soaked in the last of the afternoon sun.

Then a scream rent the air and disturbed the solitude. It echoed along the shores of the lake where he rested. He sat up and watched in horror as a woman in a dark green gown tumbled down the slope above the lake. Her body rolled out of control, then sailed off the cliff into the water below.

He jumped to his feet, ran to the water's edge, and watched the spot where she had disappeared beneath the lake's surface.

Come on! He pleaded for her to surface. When she did not, he untied his rope belt, tossed his sword and sheath on the ground, and kicked off his boots.

Then her head popped up and she let out a strangled cry that cut off when she sunk again.

Kenric pulled off his tunic and threw it in the dirt beside his horse, then dove into the lake. Icy water stole his breath away, but he reached out with powerful strokes and ignored the shock of cold. Instead, he focused on the spot where she had disappeared. Her hand breached the surface once, but not her head.

When he reached the spot where last he saw her, he dove. His hand touched something and he grabbed it. Fingers, then laced-up fabric, then an elbow. He pulled her upwards and kicked out hard with his legs, but she was like an anchor that dragged him back down. He remembered watching her full dress tumbled with her when she fell and knew the thick fabric weighed her down.

His lungs burned and he knew he had little time. He had to lessen the weight. He reached in the waistline of his pants and pulled out his knife, but as he felt with one hand for the heavy fabric and tried to cut it, his knife slipped from his fingers and vanished in the murky water.

He cursed in his head, but knew he could do nothing. They needed air, desperately, so he grabbed under her arm-pit and swam with all his might toward the surface. Every muscle in his body screamed, but he struggled on. Finally the water lightened, then he broke free and glorious air burst upon him. He sucked in great lung-fulls, then looked at the woman in his arms while he treaded water and struggled to keep her afloat. Her eyes were closed and her head hung limply out of the water. She didn't breath.

He brought his free hand around, he found her stomach, then pushed hard. Lake water spewed from her mouth right into his face. He spit to the side and watched her take in her first gulp of fresh air. She coughed and choked and expelled more water, then breathed in again and again.

Kenric felt his strength ebb and the cold seize his muscles. He kicked and paddled one-handed while he kept the woman's head above the water. At long last, his feet touched the ground. He dragged her out of the water, then collapsed beside her on the shore.

She coughed some more, but he hadn't even the strength to turn his head toward her. After a few moments of rest, he mustered the strength to push himself up and move beside her. Her eyes fluttered open and she gazed at him with crystal-blue eyes.

"I-I cannot swim," she breathed through chattering teeth.

"I gathered as much." Kenric rolled his eyes and felt his own body shake with cold. "If you could not swim, why on the cursed Berryann throne did you jump in a lake?"

"Not jump . . ." Her body began to convulse. ". . . fell." Her eyes closed and she slumped forward. Her lips turned slightly blue.

Kenric knew he had to get her dry and warm. He scooped her into his arms and stood with a grunt at the load. Her limp form and soaked dress had to have doubled her weight, and his exhausted muscles could hardly carry her.

He struggled with her into the trees to the place where he had set up camp earlier. His horse followed.

He sank to his knees beside his bedroll and held the sopping woman in his lap. She moaned, but did not stir. With a very inexperienced hand, he struggled to loosen the ties in the back of her dress and on her sleeves. He couldn't do it. Why did women have so many wretched ties? It must take them hours to don their dresses. He set her down and used two hands to unlace them all, then he pulled the dress off of her, but left her in her chemise underdress.

He removed her boots and set her face-down on his bedroll, then placed his blanket over her. She still looked cold, so he lit a fire with wood he had gathered earlier.

He hung her dress on a sturdy tree branch, then went back to the shore to find his tunic, sword, and boots. Night had nearly fallen and he shivered, eager to return to the warmth of the fire. He slipped into his boots and shirt and returned to check on the woman. She slept soundly.

His exhaustion battled with the hunger that twisted his insides. In the end his stomach won. He pulled dried meat and bread from one of his packs, found an extra blanket in another, and curled up next to the fire. As he ate, he watched the woman across from him. Firelight flickered off her pale skin and highlighted several fresh scratches on her face and shined off her mussed hair. A few loose strands had dried and looked far lighter than the dark wet locks.

Who was she, and why had she fallen? He pondered for a moment, then decided he knew not, nor did he particularly care. She had interrupted his relaxing evening and he hoped she would be well enough in the morning to continue on her way and leave him to his peace. He had done his part to save her and would never abandon her without knowing her condition, but would part company with her the moment he felt sure she could manage on her own.

***

Three hours later, Kenric jerked awake. He looked at the woman who was still asleep and added a log to the fire. Then he heard the rustle of leaves and a twig snap somewhere in the darkness. Sweetie nuzzled him and whinnied as though she had heard it too.

Curious, he pulled his sword and sheath from his belongings on the ground, strapped them around his middle, and walked away from the fire to investigate the sound.

He crept silently, a skill he had learned in the army, and soon heard faint voices and footsteps much louder than his own. He moved closer, and spied a group of the king's soldiers heading toward his campfire and the sleeping woman.