By Chance Met Read Online Free PDF Page A

the alley whence the voices had emanated. Silent as a cat, he crept up to the dark passageway, alert for any sign of impending danger. The alley turned slightly to the left.
    "Nay! Leave me be!" The cry was weak and anguished.
    "And who's going to make me?" sneered a harsh and menacing voice.
    Reijir peered around the corner.
    At the end of the noisome corridor a slight figure huddled against the wall. His jerkin
    and shirt were torn, and the crotch of his breeches ripped open. His face and what Reijir could see of his body were bruised and bloodied. He had been savagely beaten by the hulking Deir in filthy clothing who bent over him and roughly yanked his breeches down to his knees.
    The ruffian sneeringly laughed again as he tugged at the tie of his victim’s thin drawers. "Well, my pretty," he jeered, "why don't you just relax and enjoy yourself? No one's coming to your rescue!"
    Reijir stepped around the corner. "The lad said nay," he snapped.
    The Deir whirled in surprise. Reijir’s glare turned black when he recognized Gardon, the gang leader who had dared to accost him inside the Vomare.
    He spoke in clipped tones. "Come over here, dungworm,” he ordered, his voice a shade more threatening. “Away from the boy.”
    Gardon approached him slowly. Just as he reached Reijir, he suddenly swung his arm at the fief-lord’s torso. Metal glinted in the dim light.
    Reijir nimbly evaded Gardon’s assault, smoothly pulling his knife from his belt as he did. Dodging another attempt to gut him, he shoved his blade deep into Gardon’s beefy right shoulder, twisted it hard then yanked it out in one practiced motion. Yowling, Gardon clapped his hand over the ghastly wound. Before he could recover his wits, Reijir dealt him a sharp blow to the chin.
    Gardon grunted and slid to the ground. Reijir prodded him with his foot then let out his breath. He picked up Gardon’s weapon and tossed it into the rank canal then wiped his blade clean on the ruffian’s jerkin and shoved the knife back into its sheath. Only then did he turn to the lad who now lay still and silent on the cold alley floor.
    Worried, Reijir knelt by him and examined him more closely. He softly swore when he recognized the youth despite the blood and dirt that obscured his features. Heyas , it was the lad from the Vomare. The one who had helped him. Reijir scowled and looked back at the inert thug behind him.
    This had been no random assault. The scoundrel had attacked the boy in retribution for assisting Reijir.
    Reijir pulled the youth’s breeches up then carefully lifted him in his arms and headed for the street. He needed more light to examine the lad thoroughly. As he passed Gardon, the thug feebly groaned and half-opened his eyes. They widened with alarm when they fell on Reijir.
    The Herun looked from him to the Deir in his arms. The youngster’s face was swollen, his nose and mouth were bleeding profusely, and his chest down to his belly was an ugly patchwork of welts and bruises.
    Fury bubbled up within Reijir, and he abruptly lashed out with his foot. The sound of breaking bone and snapping cartilage assured him Gardon would roam the south district no more. Satisfied, he bore his precious cargo to the Vomare.
    The few remaining customers were startled into silence when he barged in. The tavern owner hastened to him with a shocked cry. Reijir did not bother to explain but set down the youth on a long table.
    He tore open what was left of the boy’s shirt and swiftly examined his torso. He did not like the look of the rapidly darkening mottled patch on the latter’s belly–it was possible he was bleeding internally. And he suspected the youth’s ribs were broken judging from his pained and labored breathing.
    The tavern owner caught his breath when he laid his eyes on his server’s torn breeches. “Holy Veres! Was he raped?” he anxiously asked.
    Without looking up, Reijir shook his head. “I found him in time. It’s fortunate I came back,” he