Nash considered his options as he blamed himself. “This is my fault,” he said.
“This isn’t right, Nash,” Saria screamed as she began fighting the soldier with more energy. Her cries of terror echoed in the room as she was pulled down the stairs, “Nash!”
Nash stood still and listened to her scream. “If only I could have killed her,” he thought to himself, “she wouldn’t be going through this now. It would have been easy for her.”
“I think we can move past this,” King Sargus said. “Your mission was mostly successful, despite the high odds.” He waved Agamen forward.
Agamen moved forward and pulled another pouch of coins from under his robe and handed it to Nash. Agamen’s distaste for Nash was written all over his face as he handed it to him. “This is your reward,” Agamen said.
Nash accepted the payment. “Thank you, my King,” he said to King Sargus.
“What are your plans now?” Sargus asked.
Nash thought for a moment, “The quiet life,” he said as he turned to leave. “I’m done.”
Agamen stepped forward to say something, but King Sargus stopped him. “Let him go,” he said quietly.
It had been months now since Saria was dragged away and disposed of. Her screams of his name still rang in his ears, especially at night, when he tried to sleep.
King Sargus had been right about a spy; an envoy from Praetha had arrived and demanded Saria be turned over to them, but left empty-handed after a search of the castle and dungeon proved she was not there. They were still hunting for the spy.
Testing had proven beyond a doubt what had caused Nash’s ability to intermittently fail. The scent of jasmine, from the flower or from perfume or even jasmine scented candles, would affect him. He had preventive measures in his pocket that he carried with him everywhere he went now. It burned like hell when you first put it on, but he could apply it at a moment’s notice and know he was covered for several hours. It also worked well for covering other smells, like the goat dung he was shoveling into a cart at the moment.
He heard the horses approaching before he saw them. Six of King Sargus’s men were approaching. He recognized the leader as the soldier that had taken Saria away, and his mood soured at the memory. He exited the pen to greet them.
When they stopped, Nash watched and waited as they dismounted. The leader stepped forward and addressed Nash while the others spread out around him. “King Sargus sends his thanks for years of loyal service,” he said and drew his sword, “but your service is no longer needed.”
Everything around Nash stopped moving. “That grin of confidence on your face is about to change,” Nash said as he removed the sword from his hand.
In all his time of service to the King, he never divulged what his ability was, just that he could get in and out of places that others could not.
Nash used the leader’s sword to slash the throats of the other five and put the point at the leader’s throat before slipping back into the time-stream. The leader stood there dumbfounded as the sound of his men gurgling and choking on their own blood filled his ears.
“You could have sent a letter,” Nash said with a grin. “You were the one that took Saria away, right?” Nash asked.
“I was,” he admitted.
“Tell me she died quickly,” Nash said barely in control.
The man before Nash laughed, despite his predicament. “It was hours before she died. The guards used her over and over again, and not until they tired of her did they kill her,” he said in a nasty voice. “We do not give mercy to enemies of our kingdom.”
“Rightfully so,” Nash agreed with the last statement. “Disrobe,” he commanded.
The soldier quickly reached up and brushed the sword aside. Nash froze him and re-positioned the sword at his throat, but a little tighter to it this time. “Disrobe,” he commanded the very confused and now nervous soldier.
The well-trained soldier had to try again, there was no way this rube could be getting the best of him. He stepped back quickly and turned to put some distance between them.
He was moving the direction Nash wanted, so he let him think he was free for a moment. As the soldier neared the pigpen, Nash froze time once more and moved to him. Nash cut the buttons on the soldier’s tunic and his belt and his trouser buttons. He pulled the man’s pants down around his ankles and stood a short distance away as he set the world back in motion.
The soldier immediately tripped on the trousers around his ankles and fell face-first into the grass. He looked up and saw Nash laughing at him. “Disrobe,” Nash repeated. “Don’t make me say it again.”
“Or what?” the soldier asked defiantly with one hand on the ground and one in the air.
Nash froze the world again and quickly sliced off the hand in the air. He took the hand and walked back to where he had been. He released his hold on time. “Or it gets painful,” Nash almost finished saying before the man screamed.
“How did he do that?” the soldier wondered. “He didn’t move!”
“Stop screaming,” Nash said. “Use the rail of the pigpen to stand and steady yourself.”
The soldier used the fence to help himself stand. His wrist was bleeding profusely, so he held it against the side of his tunic. He faced Nash.
“For Saria,” Nash said as he moved forward and slashed the soldier’s belly open. Nash pushed him over the rail and into the pigpen. He wouldn’t die as slowly as Nash wanted, but it would not be fast. The pigs were already gorging on the man’s innards while he screamed.
Nash listened to the man’s screams fade as he walked back to his small cabin. He had to make some life-altering decisions.
The quiet life called to him, but Saria’s ghost also called.