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The soldier tackled me from behind and we tumbled into the dirt. I had to use the defensive moves I knew regardless of what he'd think of me. I had to protect myself.
The soldier hurting me wouldn't stop unless I stopped him and I was fighting for my dignity, my body, as well as my life. I had no choice but to fight and fight I did. I thought I was holding my own against him when abruptly, he ceased attacking me.
A heavy silence had suddenly settled over everything. No one spoke and nothing stirred. I was on the ground and glanced up to see slaves and soldiers alike frozen. For a moment I thought something weird had occurred again. My hand went to the amulet, but it was cold and dark. It wasn't that.
Then the soldiers bowed and everyone else fell face forward in the dirt. Ground statues. Hadn't I also seen this before in those old movies?
No one moved, except for one man.
He was high up on an exquisite snow-colored horse, peering down at me, curious interest mingling with disapproval in his eyes. Even on horseback he seemed larger than the other men. His skin was lighter than any of the other people around me but yet not as pale as mine.
He wasn't dressed in rags or soldier's gear as everyone else, he was dressed in rich gold cloth which shone in the sun like the jewels around his neck, arms and fingers.
There was color smudged above his jet-black eyes. His hair, covered in a swatch of dazzling white pleated linen, what I could see of it, was just as dark. The saddle he sat on and his bridle sparkled with silver. It was easy to see he was a person of wealth and power.
He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. But his eyes ... full ofintelligent arrogance ... were flat and cold. Here was a man who cared for little.