Title: A Quarter South (4/5)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: pre-Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: AU; there’s something strange about the prince’s new bodyguards.
Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3

While he was relieved the paralysis was not permanent, regaining control of his limbs took too long for Leonard’s liking.

It seemed the man who had used the powder (which now Leonard doubted had anything to do with dragons from the East) had been confident his latest catch would recover and ‘sell big’ at their destination. Leonard knew this because the man, Harry Mudd, talked nonstop as the wagon rattled down the road. It was obvious he was utterly pleased with himself.

“Such a fine specimen!” boasted Mudd. “Youth and good teeth—what a difficult combination to find! I admit to surprise when Redjac sent word and urged me to come along so quickly. He has this bad habit of scaring my potential prospects half out of their wits before he brings them along. But I had a feeling, indeed I did, that this time would be unusual. There is a soothsayer, you see, whom I had visited some days prior. He said doors would open which had hither-to been closed, and if I chose my door carefully I would increase my fortune ten-fold! I wouldn’t say I am a superstition man at heart, no, no, not at all, but one ever needs the favor of the gods in this line of work. And he was right! You are an excellent piece—oh, I think I hear you jostling about back there. Has your speech returned yet, my boy?”

If it had, Mudd would have experienced an earful by now of Leonard’s thoughts on the enterprise of slave-traders. After, that is, he beat the man senseless and strung him up.

That fantasy wasn’t likely to come true any time soon. Leonard could barely wiggle his toes in his boots and bend his fingers. Even worse, something god-awfully sharp was digging into his back under the leather wagon cover and he couldn’t do a thing about it! The effort to roll himself sideways had knocked over a set of tools, which was the noise Mudd had obviously heard.

Just poke your nose back here, you lout, Leonard thought viciously. I’ll teach you what happens when you steal a McCoy!

He would get out of this situation if it was the last thing he did!

~~~

A ruckus started beyond the wagon. At first Leonard was busy testing how far he could move his legs. He kept knocking into objects scattered about the wagon floor alongside him, but Mudd appeared to find this amusing and made Leonard wonder how sadistic the man was to enjoy the sounds of his victims struggling to get free. So it wasn’t until the wagon began to slow its pace significantly that Leonard recognized the clip-clop of too many hooves to belong to Mudd’s team of horses.

Leonard had a moment to think this might be a chance to incite his rescue.

Then Mudd called out a greeting in his boisterous jolly voice to whomever they were passing on the road.

He’s trying to sell wares, Leonard realized. The man has a person tied up, drugged, and hidden in the back of his wagon and yet he wants to coax some coin out of the nearest pocket.

It was with disgust that Leonard gave the side board of the wagon a kick. The kick was a little too feeble to justly signify his anger so he did it again. Soon it occurred to him he could keep it up and likely attract attention.

Mudd, perhaps catching on quickly to what Leonard was about, raised his voice to a near-yell and, from the sound of it, began to bang on various pots to emphasize their durability to his customer.

Half of Leonard considered this affront to his ability to cause trouble, and the other half was simply fed-up with being someone’s victim. He tried for a nasty word that in any court would turn the minstrels on their ears and appall the ladies but only succeeded in making a mindless shout.

That was when his surroundings went eerily silent. Leonard blinked against the darkness of his prison and wondered, Have I done it?

He became excited and began knocking at things left and right. The racket he made was horrendous and glorious at the same time.

Mudd’s voice came through at a very close distance but was saying, alarmed, “Sir!”

Without warning the wagon cover was thrown clear of Leonard’s head. He squinted feebly, the sudden sunlight of the late afternoon harsh on his eyes.

“And what is this?” inquired a new voice.

The person who peered over the side to look at Leonard with curious blue eyes was Jim.

Leonard did not stop to think how ironic it was that he was glad to see his first kidnapper.

Mudd’s arms could be seen flapping behind Kirk. “It’s nothing! Nothing!” the portly man insisted. “Just my wife’s nephew! He has an awful head for drink, the silly gudgeon, and—”

Abruptly Mudd wasn’t talking very loudly at all, instead stringing together a rapid-fire mumble as though someone had covered his mouth or thrown something over his head.

Leonard drew his brows and glared at his rescuer. It seemed worth the effort to grouse, albeit with a lengthy pause due to the condition of his uncooperative vocal chords. “About—time.”

Jim leaned against the wagon-side and braced an arm across it. “Is he for sale?” he questioned too idly.

Leonard’s eyes widened.

There came the sounds of scuffling, then Mudd appeared beside Jim, puffing red and straightening the front of his brightly colored vest with a nervous air. “For sale, you say? Good sir, I don’t take your meaning!”

“Shame,” murmured Kirk. He produced a gold coin seemingly out of thin air. “Your nephew looks like a biter. I like biters.”

Mudd’s fist had wrapped around the coin in the next instant. “I, ah,” the man said, gaze shifting from side to side, although Leonard doubted there were other travelers on the road, “I am fond of this nephew, you see.” He coughed a little. “And there would be the good wife to explain to. It would cost five.”

Jim looked insulted. “Five!”

“H-Hey!” Leonard croaked and started kicking at the side of the wagon again.

“Three.”

“Three!” exclaimed Mudd. “That is a cheat, sir! I could sell him for—” He stopped and started again, “That is, a human being is a valuable commodity even when you intend to commit unsavory… deeds with him. I can accept no less than four!”

Jim scratched at the blond stubble on his chin. “There’s a town yonder and, I hear, a magistrate with a grave dislike of flesh traders.” He eyed the various objects in Mudd’s wagon, not including Leonard. “Suppose I were to give him a tale of a merchant—Harcourt Fenton Mudd, isn’t it?—whose priciest wares are kings’ secrets and slave marketing. Do you think he would give me a nice bounty to fetch your head?”

Mudd began to make noises that weren’t nearly as brazen as his earlier speech. “You wouldn’t—you have no proof!”

Jim gestured at Leonard. “Is he not all I need? What do you think he will say to the magistrate about you?”

“Don’t be absurd!” cried the accused. “I, I see that I had no thought in my mind. Forgive me, sire, forgive me!” He held out the gold coin. “This man is clearly not worthy of you!”

Leonard struggled against his bonds, more pissed than ever.

Jim didn’t take the coin. “Keep it,” he said, “and let me have him. I’ll consider that coin and my silence the price of this exchange.”

Mudd hurried around to the back of the wagon to grab at Leonard’s boots. Leonard struggled but the man managed to dump him out along with a bolt of cloth and a frying pan. No sooner did the prince start cursing and writhing in the dirt did Mudd flee from sight. Shortly after that, the wagon gave a dramatic lurch and began to roll away.

Jim came over to Leonard, cut the ropes around his ankles and stood him up.

“Catch—him!” Leonard cried. Speaking nearly cost him his breath but he kept at it: “Catch—that—FIEND!”

Jim rocked on his heels and just gave the prince a blank stare.

Leonard shouldered the fool aside with a contemptible “Poop-noddy!” and staggered straight for Spock. “You! How—dare you—let the—villain—escape!”

“Spock,” Jim said from behind the prince.

Spock gave a slight nod and came forward. Then, much to Leonard’s dismay, he picked the prince up and lifted him onto the stallion, who calmly nibbled at weeds along the side of the road.

Leonard would have thrown himself off the opposite side if Spock hadn’t immediately slid into the saddle behind him and anchored him in place with an arm about his waist. Then they were moving, faster and faster, down the road. Leonard struggled only briefly before he craned his head around Spock to see Jim standing in the dust, watching them ride away.

He didn’t understand what they were doing, but then again he had never understood them. Not since the first moment they met.

~~~

Being unable to speak properly was frustrating. Leonard kept up a litany of words, sounding them out and trying to force them into whole sentences without stuttering. Eventually he recovered his speech to his satisfaction, although his voice itself had a lingering roughness to it.

“Why,” he asked, “did we leave Jim?”

“He has matters to settle.”

“But why?” Leonard pressed Spock, since they had veered from the road some time ago, and the horse’s gait had slowed to a smooth trot.

“You ask too many questions.”

“I have a right to ask,” the prince harrumphed, “and you have a lot of things to explain for. You clearly followed me despite my protests. Jim has somehow acquired a bruised face, and one of your shirt sleeves is soaked in blood. Have you been fighting? With whom? And why come after me only to split up?”

Spock allowed this interrogation without interrupting. Leonard guessed there would be no answers from his tight-lipped companion but Spock surprised him by saying, “He will report to the magistrate.”

Leonard said, caught between disbelief and hope, “He’s turning in Mudd?”

“Yes.”

“But… I thought he let that odious man go!”

“Your assumption was incorrect.” Spock stopped the horse in the shade of an ancient oak tree and swung to the ground. “Hold out your hands.”

Leonard did.

Spock cut the bindings.

After shaking out his wrists to help the proper return of his blood flow, Leonard swung a leg over the horse. Briefly Spock steadied him once he was down then stepped back from him.

“We will make camp here,” the prince was informed.

Leonard turned in a full circle. “He can find us at this place?”

“He will.”

It seemed that once again his options were limited. They had come quite a distance from the road and Leonard was not certain he could find it again on foot.

He watched Spock soothe the stallion and inspect for the saddle bags. Then the man untied a small brown leather bag, saying, “This may have a salve for your wrists.”

Leonard came forward and held out his hands.

Spock threw the pouch to him.

As he opened it, the prince had a queer feeling. He hardly glanced inside it before he moved closer to Spock.

“You should sit down.”

Having released the horse to wander on its own, Spock turned to stare at him.

“By the tree,” Leonard added. “I can…” He trailed off and indicated the man’s arm.

Spock did nothing of the sort and made as if to follow the horse.

Leonard felt a flare of annoyance. “I said sit down,” he ordered.

Spock turned around again to look down his nose at Leonard in his arrogant way. Their staring contest lasted for nearly a minute.

Abruptly Spock turned back to the tree and settled upon a large root which had broken free of the ground. He turned his face aside when Leonard approached and lowered himself to his knees in front of him.

“Your arm,” he instructed.

Spock extended his arm, still looking away.

The prince muttered over the bloody slash a moment before sighing. “You’ll have to cut the shirt or remove it.”

“No.”

“I can’t see the wound well enough to treat it!”

“I made no request for your aid.”

“Listen here, you pribbling pigeon-egg! I have as much liking for you as a boil on my bottom! But that damn stallion will run me into the nearest tree unless you ride it with me, so I can’t have you dying of infection!”

The dark-haired, dark-eyed man met his angry retort without reaction. That infuriated Leonard to the point of his face becoming dark red. He grabbed at the loose neckline of Spock’s shirt and gave it a sharp jerk, satisfied to hear it tear.

Spock had a painful hold on his wrist in the next instant, and for a heartbeat or two Leonard believed the man might break it. But then Spock pushed his arm away and reached for the drawstring at the front of his shirt. Leonard was caught between triumph and embarrassment as the man drew the garment over his head and placed it aside on the root.

Spock had the faintest hint of an expression on his face—and it wasn’t pleasant, as if it was the horrible thing in the world to sit bare-chested in the daylight.

Leonard caught himself studying the curve of the man’s ribs and corralled his errant thoughts. He gently twisted Spock’s injured arm to a different position for better visual inspection. The pouch which Spock had detached from the horse’s saddle and tossed to him held scant few herbs in it but some of them would be useful. Leonard opened a waterskin with his teeth and washed off the dirt.

“Could of been worse,” he remarked. “The bleeding is sluggish so it means to clot. Are you light-headed?”

“No.”

“In pain?”

Spock did not answer.

“I see. Well, I can’t do much for you at the moment except clean this and bind it with a poultice. I need to know right away if you feel feverish. Do you understand?”

Spock’s gaze lowered to the prince’s grip on his forearm. “Why do you act so common?”

The question startled Leonard. “Common?”

“A man must behave in keeping with his blood.”

“Are you insulting me now?”

Spock glanced sidelong at him. “Insult was not intended.”

Leonard sat on his heels and regarded the man. “What’s wrong with choosing to be nice? I think you’d agree there are plenty of cruel men in this world. Because I am royal-born must I become one of them? Nay, Spock. My stepfather may be half-faced in his dealings, but my mother was revered by everyone. She was a Queen who ruled fairly and with compassion, and I know that she wished the same of me.” He took in the open pouch at his feet briefly and spoke with a heavy bitterness. “I have disappointed her. Your Kirk was not wrong: I was too complacent and careless with my living. And now I am no longer a prince.” From the pouch, he picked out a pinch of a sweet-smelling herb and rubbed it between forefinger and thumb. “This will help numb the skin slightly. I see that you also carry willow bark. That is very wise. If we could boil some of the water and use it to make a tea…” He stopped, feeling a little guilty. “Never mind.”

But to Leonard’s surprise Spock nodded. “I will gather some kindling.” The man twisted at the waist in reaching for his shirt.

“Wait,” Leonard meant to stop him, “your arm is still—” but then he caught a glimpse of silver in the sunlight and forgot about his consternation. He pressed a hand against Spock’s shoulder blade to hold the angle of the man’s back for a better look. “What is this?”

Spock abandoned the root so suddenly Leonard almost unbalanced. He had donned his shirt before Leonard could call his name.

The prince stood up and gestured Spock’s back. “What was—”

Spock’s voice was as cold as a winter storm. “You overstep yourself, McCoy.”

Leonard dropped his hand and stared. But as Spock stepped from the oak’s shadow, Leonard called to him, “The marks—however old, they must pain you. I could make an oil—” He was interrupted.

“That will be unnecessary.”

Spock left him standing among the roots and refused to come close to him thereafter. The prince had to make do with badgering Spock in a one-sided shouting contest across the field about binding his arm.

“Goat-headed varlet,” Leonard muttered after he finally retreated to the tree.

There he sulked for the time being until Jim found them.

~~~

“It’s nearly night! Why are you so late?”

“I’m unaware you had a schedule set for me,” the man dismounting retorted to the prince.

Leonard frowned and moved to the horse’s head. “That’s my horse!” he exclaimed a moment later.

Jim patted the mare’s back affectionately. “She missed me, I can tell.”

“But how…?” It dawned on Leonard, then, what he had been so blind to miss. “You found Redjac.” His eyes narrowed. “You fought Redjac. That’s how Spock hurt his arm.”

“He wasn’t forthcoming with information… at first,” Jim added slyly, now watching Leonard from the corners of his eyes.

The prince crossed his arms. “Should I thank you?”

“I do love to be thanked.”

“Forget it.”

Jim sighed. “I thought so. Leonard—Prince McCoy,” he amended, “do you realize the number of hardships you’ve caused me over the last few days?”

“Do you realize I think you deserve it?”

The man sighed again. “Truly, you did not seem this excitable in the castle.”

Leonard went towards him with the intention of putting his hands about Kirk’s neck.

“I suppose I do bear some blame.” Jim admitted as he eyed Leonard ruefully. “I should have paid only silver.”

“That’s another bone I have to pick with you, you impertinent dog! What manner of rescue is fattening the purse of my captor?”

“A smart one,” Jim said, looking pleased with himself. “Now, do you have many more bones to pick with me, Prince? If not, I should like to speak with my companion.”

Leonard stalked off to the tree and came back, shoving a bundle of cloth strips which Leonard painstakingly washed and dried in the sun into the man’s hand. “Secure his arm if you can catch him.”

Jim’s eyebrows went up. “What have you done to Spock?”

With an indignant sniff, the prince turned his back. “I’ve done nothing.”

“I see,” the man remarked in a disbelieving tone. Nonetheless, as he left to seek out the elusive Spock, he carried the bandages with him.

Leonard went to the mare and laid his head against her neck. “This is frustrating,” he confessed to her, “but at the very least I am not dead.” Then more softly since he was alone, “Thank you, Jim.”

~~~

He hunts with a weak arm, Leonard scoffed mentally and scuffed at the ground with a boot.

The sun would set soon, and yet they were doing little to prepare for camp. Spock was still missing, although Jim claimed the man gone off to hunt their dinner.

For his part, Kirk had leaned back against the trunk of the oak tree, closed his eyes and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles as if he had nothing more important to do than nap.

Leonard took about as kindly to this as he had to anything the fellow had done thus far. He stared at the man for the longest time, hoping to discomfort him simply with the knowledge that he was being watched.

Soon after, Jim started to snore.

In retaliation Leonard may have kicked him.

The idiot roused enough to turn over onto his side before settling back into his obnoxious snoring.

“Hey, you,” the prince said, nonplussed, “I have questions!”

Jim swatted at his ear like the voice he heard was a bothersome fly.

“Jim,” hissed Leonard, “I know you aren’t asleep. Now in about half a minute I’m going to come over there and stick my fingers up your nose to see how well you breathe then!”

Jim rolled over. “That’s gross,” he said, tone both incredulous and approving. “Even for a prince, that is gross.”

Leonard scooted closer, wrapped his arms around his knees, and glared at the man. “I don’t like to be ignored.”

“So I gathered.” Jim sat up. “Too many things seem to offend you.”

“Your face, for one.”

Jim rubbed at his jaw. “That just means you have poor taste and possibly poor eyesight. How many fingers am I holding up?”

Leonard grabbed Jim’s middle finger and bent it backwards until the fool yelped.

“Ow, ow, ow, you hurt me!”

“Stop acting like a child.”

“I’ll tell Spock!”

The prince snorted but soon sobered as the mentioning of the name effectively reminded him of his concern. “How did he get the scars?”

Jim looked at him for a long second, his amusement gone. He seemed to be weighing his response against his loyalty.

Leonard said, “I only ask because if I know the type of instrument used and how long has passed since the scars healed over, I can decide how best to treat them.”

“You can’t treat scars.”

“Scars are still made of skin, Jim. And I would bet they hamper him more than he is likely to admit to anyone. There are some oils which can soften the tissue so it doesn’t strain with movement. There’s even some which can help with the discoloration.” He paused before adding more quietly, “The damage is permanent, of course, but that’s no reason not to help him live comfortably.”

Jim sighed through his nose. “It isn’t my story to tell, Leonard.”

“Do you expect Spock to?”

“No.”

“Then settle for the second best option.”

Jim’s mouth quirked. “He’s right. You are wily.”

Leonard only said, “I’m known for my superior advice.”

“And your inability to stink—oh, wait, forget that.” Jim pinched his nostrils shut and grinned.

“You, Jim Kirk, are the most childish man I have ever laid eyes on!”

“It is you who brings out the childishness in me, Prince. I was quite somber before.”

“That’s because Spock doesn’t know how to play.”

They shared a laugh and a grin—until Leonard caught on to what he was doing and forced himself to stop. He wasn’t (absolutely was not!) making friends with a mercenary and kidnapper.

That brought him to his second question, or rather demand: “If I am to travel in your company henceforth, there are conditions you must abide by.”

Jim laid one arm across a knee. “And what is it your Royalness requires? Keep in mind,” he pointed out, “there is likely to be a shortage in goose-feather mattresses and handmaidens in the near future.”

Leonard leaned forward, so earnest was he in his thinking. “Never mind the luxury of a life I am not likely to experience again. I am not that boil-brained! No, it is simpler: you must promise me not to kill.”

Jim grew oddly silent.

“I am aware this has been your livelihood for some time. However,” the prince insisted, “I cannot condone it. Whether you strike a man down in front of me or we find him wasting by the roadside, it will be my duty to keep him from death. I am not claiming to be the righteous man which you once named me,” and here his fingers found a loose thread on his clothes and fiddled with it, “but I believe it is in every man’s power to choose life or death, and he must choose life—even for another, who may have wronged him.”

“I knew you were strange,” Jim said at last, turning to place his back against the tree again. “I will think on it.”

“I would not expect your decision to be made lightly,” agreed Leonard. He stared out over the field, trying to spot a figure which might be Spock.

Silence settled between the two men, and Leonard found that for once he was grateful for it. It relaxed him.

After some time, to his right, Jim shifted and said, “He has born them since childhood.”

Leonard’s throat tightened all of a sudden. “I see,” he managed. “And the weapon used against him?”

“In all likelihood, various things: a hand, a whip, a sword. It is… not something we speak of.”

The prince said with cold certainty, “He was a slave.”

“From the time of his birth,” Jim replied. Then the man stood abruptly and brushed the leaves and dirt from his trousers. He seemed to have no more liking for their conversation.

Leonard stood too but awkwardly so.

Jim’s thoughts were unreadable in his eyes as they stared at one another.

“Should I start the fire?” the prince offered.

His companion nodded. Then, mysteriously he said, “I suppose it is ironic.”

“How so?”

Jim looked away. “I bought you, and Spock… Spock was bought for me.”

Leonard would have asked who would buy you a slave? but Jim shook his head slightly and strode away.

Outside his castle’s walls, Leonard was learning many things. Most of which, he would conclude later on, he wished he had never had to know.

~~~

Spock had returned from his hunt with two tiny quails, neither of which Leonard discovered Spock intended to eat.

“Do you truly not partake of meat?” Leonard questioned him as Jim prepared the birds for roasting with his knife. When he had wanted to know how Jim had re-acquired the dagger Leonard had sold, Jim smirked and replied, “By selling your cloak.”

Spock didn’t answer him right away, so the prince prodded him with the stick intended meant to be the spit for the quails.

“Why not?”

“Killing animals for food is not a custom of my people.”

“Where do you come from?”

Spock chose silence again.

“I am only curious,” the prince grumped. “Your features are like no other’s that I have seen.”

Jim piped up, “You really shouldn’t insult him.”

“I’m not!”

“You’ve implied he’s ugly before.”

“He is hardly that!” Leonard shot back before he could think better of the response.

Jim beamed at him.

The prince leveled his finger at the brat, not liking to be tricked. “You’re the ugly one, you coxcomb. And a dewberry and a basket-cockle besides!”

“Sweet nothings in my ear,” replied Kirk, who was in far too good of a mood at the prospect of dinner. “Spock, there are some apples and bread in my saddlebag.”

Spock rose from the fire he had been tending.

“Finally,” remarked the prince, “a meal worth having.”

“Oh, none of that is for you.”

Leonard twisted around to stare at Jim. “What do you mean?”

Jim held up a headless, featherless bird by one limp foot. “Out here, you eat what you gather, kill, or prepare. So you, my dear spoiled prince, will have to handle your own meal. Here.” He tossed his knife with deadly accuracy into the dirt between Leonard’s feet.

Leonard pulled it out and considered skinning Kirk with it. “You lend me this knife and think yourself wise?”

“I think you’re hungry.”

Leonard hesitated. The man wasn’t wrong. Then he held out his hand and said imperiously, “Give me that other bird.”

Jim smiled and tossed that too at the prince’s feet.

Leonard vividly imagined someone other than the bird as he cut off its head.

~~~

They slept on the ground without blankets. It was disconcerting for Leonard who had never done such a thing before, and so he could not sleep. Spock, he knew, was not sleeping either. He moved noiselessly about the camp like a wraith.

Oak boughs rose above their head and the moon burned within them. Something moved occasionally, a squirrel or a small bird. Distantly there would come the hoot of an owl, and once Leonard thought he saw a shadow dip low over the field.

In a way, the quiet life of the nighttime creatures lulled him into a strange, cocooning sense of safety.

Then Spock drifted over to the still form of Jim while Leonard lay pretending to dream instead of watching the world through his lashes.

He tensed without knowing why.

Spock stooped low, and his long fingers grazed the curve of Jim’s cheek. The gesture held no malice, only intimacy and an aching gentleness.

He saw Jim stir without opening his eyes and capture Spock’s hand. Then Jim laid it against his mouth, let it linger there, before letting it go.

Spock, who hardly ever seemed to wear his emotion for others to see, had a look on his face just then that could not be mistaken in its nature.

Leonard squeezed his eyes shut, feeling like an intruder and, worse yet, a voyeur. He was afraid they would discover him to be awake. More so, he was afraid he could not hide his reaction.

How long had it been since he had felt what Spock feels?

He pictured her face as he had last seen it, white and still, and the babe nestled in her arms. His eyes burned fiercely with that memory, and he fought with his own breath as it betrayed him with a rasping sound.

The prince gave up the pretense of sleeping, then, and flopped to his opposite side, laying a hand over his face to hide himself.

It did no good to think of the woman and the child, no good at all when he hardly remembered loving them. Some would say he ached so badly these many years later because he had loved them but Leonard just did not know. He thought it was his guilt, more than anything, which tormented him so.

He felt rather than saw Spock moving around him, just as he felt Jim’s scrutiny upon his back; but thankfully neither man disturbed him and eventually, from practice, the prince was able to calm his thoughts and welcome sleep. The morning came too quickly in that respect.

And so did trouble.

Someone literally picked Leonard up and out of sleep by the back of his neck, snapping in his ear at the same time, “Get on the horse!“

“Huh? What?” the prince rasped sleepily, his limbs tingling all over from being woken so abruptly.

Jim gave him a shove from behind then ran with him for the mare.

“What’s going on?” Leonard said as he made a clumsy effort at mounting.

Jim was already seated and hauled him up by the arm to sit behind him. “Redjac,” he said in a dark voice, wheeling the horse about.

Leonard hooked his arms around Jim’s middle, a panicky feeling starting low in his stomach. “I thought you would have killed him!” he replied.

“I should have,” Jim only said, and then their horse was flat-out running across the field and far from sight of their camp.

“Spock,” the prince remembered suddenly, and his grip loosened.

“Don’t let go!” Jim ordered.

Then Leonard felt a hand drop over his own and squeeze his knuckles.

“Spock is our second plan,” the prince thought he heard.

That didn’t make sense to him. He asked Jim, “For what?”

Kirk looked about as grim-faced as Leonard had ever seen him. “When they catch up to us.”

Hearing that matter-of-fact admission was the reason Leonard began to panic in earnest.

I am not turning this into a series. I am not turning this into a series. I am not turning… Oh hell. I might be turning this into a series.

Next up, a prince and his bodyguards running amok through the countryside being chased by a dragon called the Fearsome KLMeri. Friends, I beg you, please stop me before this gets any worse!

Although, I can say the next chapter is the last chapter of A Quarter South. Okay, thanks, and bye.

Related Posts:

• A Quarter South (7/7) – from July 5, 2014
• A Quarter South (6/7) – from July 4, 2014
• A Quarter South (5/7) – from July 4, 2014
• A Quarter South (3/5) – from June 17, 2014
• A Quarter South (2/3) – from June 9, 2014

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