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He said nothing as he covered the coiled rope with leaves and grass, and slowly bent the tree branch, tying it down with a string, creating a trigger that, Ulrika guessed, when touched, would spring the rope into the air.
"Leave me here," Ulrika said. "I am no use to you—"
Snap!
He spun around.
Snap!
Ulrika shot to her feet.
They listened. Heard footfall. Someone was coming.
"We must go!" he said, sheathing his dagger and scooping up their travel packs. "Quickly!"
Ulrika gathered up the bag of nuts, and then she retrieved the water-skin. As she reached for her medicine box, which the stranger had dropped near the mound of kindling, Ulrika picked up the ivory horn he had laid there and—
Her mind exploded with a vision of such brilliance and passion that she staggered back. A massive bonfire. Sparks rising to the night sky. People dancing in a frenzy, shouting, beating drums. It filled her head. It made the earth spin beneath her. Fear, anger, hope, desire. Tears drenched her. Laughter lifted her up. She was swept up into the sky, and dropped to the earth.
Ulrika felt a tug on her hand. The vision vanished. She blinked. The stranger was glaring at her. "You do not touch this!" he growled. She saw that he had snatched the horn from her.
"I'm sorry. I meant no disrespect."
He hastily reattached the ivory horn to his belt. "This is sacred. Not for unbelievers. We must go now."
He sprinted ahead of her, and Ulrika kept up with him as they heard heavy footfall behind.
They had gone only a short distance into the forest when they heard a sudden cry. Ulrika and her abductor paused briefly to look back and to listen to angry shouts and sounds of frantic chopping.
The trap had worked.
"WAIT," ULRIKA GASPED AS she stumbled over the ground. "I ca
The stranger turned and grabbed her wrist, to pull her along as she staggered and protested. The sun was high now, they had stayed on the move all morning. It had been hours since they had heard their pursuers.
"Please," Ulrika said, when suddenly he came to a halt and Ulrika ran into him, nearly causing them both to fall.
"We are here," he said, and dashed ahead.
Ulrika looked around and saw only oaks and pines forming a dense forest, and dappled sunlight. She watched in amazement as her abductor disappeared into a thicket, to reappear a moment later, gesturing impatiently for her to join him.
As she neared the brush that looked too tangled for anyone to cut through, Ulrika saw an opening. She entered and found herself inside a small hut, cleverly hidden and disguised in the middle of the woods. To Ulrika's surprise, the hut had a comfortable feel to it, despite being a temporary shelter, with rugs on the floor and brass lamps suspended from the grass ceiling, little golden flames flickering to create an intimate atmosphere.
In the center of the floor, lying on a bed of animal skins, a young girl lay feverish and sleeping.
All thoughts of fatigue and hunger left Ulrika as she ran to the girl's side, dropped to her knees and immediately felt the burning forehead.
"How is she?" the mountain man asked as he knelt at Ulrika's side. "I left her a day and a half ago. I had no choice."
Ulrika lifted eyelids to look at dilated pupils. She detected a rapid pulse. The girl's breathing was shallow. "She is very sick."
"I did not want to leave her," he said. Lifting the blanket made of soft deer skin, he exposed a nasty wound. "She fell and injured herself. I tried my best to fix it, but infection set in. I knew that the only way to save her was to find help." He looked at Ulrika. "I saw you in the village. I saw how you treated a man's injury. And I recognize these symbols." He pointed to her medicine box with the Egyptian hieroglyphics and Babylonian cuneiform painted on the sides.
"Do not let her die, do you understand? You ca
Ulrika was momentarily arrested by black eyes that seemed deeper than night, and filled with unspoken emotion. It struck her that her young kidnapper was desperate, on the run, frightened, and angry, and perhaps not as dangerous as she had initially thought.
He was also, she realized, quite handsome, and it crossed her mind that, should he ever smile, his sensuous lips would be most attractive.
Ulrika reached for her medicine kit. "I will administer Hecate's cure. It is made from willow bark, which is inhabited by a very powerful spirit."
"Are you a physician?"
"No. My mother is a healer. She taught me."
"You do not live here in Persia. This is not your home."
She kept her eyes on her own hands as she busily dispensed powder into a cup, and mixed water into it. Her abductor sat uncomfortably close. She could smell his sweat, and the wild scent of animal skins, pine, and loamy earth. "I have come to find someone," she said.
She did not look at him, but sensed his question.
"I am seeking answers to a personal question," Ulrika said as she stirred the powder until it dissolved. "And I believe there is a man, called the Magus, who can help me."
When he said nothing, Ulrika asked, "Is this girl your sister or perhaps your niece?" The girl's coloring was the same as his—an unusually white complexion framed by raven-black hair. But they were not father and daughter. The girl would be around thirteen and the young man appeared to be just a little older than Ulrika herself.
"She is from another tribe," he said, and Ulrika thought: But sharing the same Persian-Greek ancestry I would wager.
He suddenly turned toward the opening of the thicket-hut. "I will stand watch," he murmured. Removing the ivory horn from his belt, he laid it on the girl's chest and said, "The god of my people is Ahura Mazda, the Wise Lord of the sky, and this is sacred ash from his first Fire Temple. It is white and clean, and protects from evil." He stood, his midnight hair brushing the tangled weeds that made the ceiling. "Her name is Veeda," he said, and then he was gone.
BY THE TIME THE STRANGER RETURNED, Ulrika had been able to encourage the girl to take a few sips of Hecate's Cure. The medicine was famous for reducing fever, taking away pain, and conquering the evil spirits of infection. Then she had tended the wound on the girl's leg, cleaning it, washingaway the dead flesh to apply fresh salves and bandages. Ulrika did not fully understand how healing worked—the greatest Greek physicians in the world could not entirely explain how a cure worked—but Ulrika had used a method so ancient and proven that, once she was done, she felt confident the girl would soon begin to recover.
"How is she?" the stranger asked, coming to Veeda's side.
"You brought me to her in time."
He nodded. "I have been praying."
Ulrika had left the ivory horn in place on the girl's chest, wondering about the ash he had said it contained. She thought of the mound of kindling he had built but had not lit, and how he had apologized for not making a fire. "I ca