Zahara's Gift

by A. J. Walker

  “I hope we’re not going to be cooped up in here much longer. I just want to stretch my legs and walk around. It’s hard to do that in this small cell,” she said as she demonstrated that it only took her three steps to reach the wall separating them from the next cell.

  The two of them went silent when they heard several pairs of feet come stomping down the stairs and open the door. Two leather clad soldiers were dragging someone who looked to be unconscious. Kirsten watched as they dragged the person down the hall toward their end of the hull. They opened the cell door and tossed the person into it. She heard the limp body thud as it hit the ground. One of the men saw Kirsten was watching them from her cell.

  He slammed the bars with his club and said with a thick foreign accent, unrecognizable to Kirsten, “What’re you looking at, darling?” Kirsten looked away trying not to provoke the soldier. The man said, “That’s what I thought,” and closed the cell door next to them. They left just as quickly as they came, remarking how bad the smell of caged humans had become.

  Kirsten thought there was something familiar about the person they stuffed into the cell next to them. “I think that was my brother,” she said to Maija once the soldiers were out of the hull. She pressed her face up against the bars and whispered loudly, “Thomas.” She waited, listening intently for her brother’s voice to respond. For a moment there was no response.

  She was about to call his name again louder when she heard his voice say, “Kirsten?”

  “Oh, Thomas, it’s you!” Kirsten blurted out. Just then the door at the end of the hallway cracked open. A soldier popped his head in and listened for the noise he thought he’d heard. It didn’t take long before the soldier cursed the foul smell of the hull and gave up trying to catch whoever had made the noise.

  “Shhhh,” Thomas urged her. “Keep quiet, Kirsten. It will anger them if they know I’m talking.”

  “What did they do to you? Are you okay?” she asked him in a more hushed tone.

  “Yes, I’m fine; a little banged up I guess, but I’ll be fine,” he replied. “When they brought us onto the ships, they didn’t bring me down here with the rest of you. They brought me to Thargon.”

  “Is he the beast that killed father?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Thomas sighed still coming to terms with what had happened to their father. “He questioned me for hours on end, torturing my mind with some kind of magic or something. He kept asking me where I got my powers. I didn’t know what he meant. It didn’t make any sense; I don’t have any special powers. I was so worried about you because he kept telling me he would kill the rest of my family if I didn’t tell him. Finally, when the storm came, something distracted him and he stopped interrogating me. I tried to escape when they weren’t watching, but they knocked me out and I just woke up when I fell on the floor down here. How are you doing, did they try to get anything out of you as well?”

  “No,” Kirsten said. “They just put a bag over my head and tossed me in here. I’ve been trying to stay out of their way. The soldiers will beat you just for talking too loudly.”

  “I don’t know who they are or what they want with us, but I’m glad they didn’t do to you what they did to me,” Thomas said. “They must think I’m someone else.”

  “Did you happen to overhear anything about where they’re taking us?” Kirsten asked.

  “There was some kind of two-way mirror or something that Thargon used to talk with someone. Unless he was just talking to his own reflection, which he very well could have been, because he’s clearly a psychopath.”

  Kirsten chuckled a little at Thomas’ description.

  “I didn’t understand most of what he was saying because he’s been speaking a strange language that I don’t recognize. It could be the soldier’s language, because Thargon speaks Landish with the person in the mirror but addresses the soldiers in the foreign language. When he was talking to the mirror, I heard him mention something about Dark Water Bay, I’m not sure if that’s a real place, but it could be where they’re taking us?”

  “I’ve heard that name before,” Maija said, chiming in on their conversation.

  “What does it mean?” Kirsten asked her.

  “I remember my grandfather saying something about it being in the east. I can’t remember exactly, but I think he said it was along the Marauder Sea’s shoreline.”

  “Who is that with you?” Thomas asked.

  Kirsten answered, “Her name is Maija; she was working the competition when the attack started.”

  “Thanks for the information,” he said. “And it’s nice to meet you.”

  “Thank your sister,” Maija replied.

  “I helped her out a bit,” Kirsten said.

  “A lot, a bit,” Maija said. “I probably would’ve died had you not helped me.”

  “I wonder what they’re going to do with us when we get there?” Kirsten asked. Neither of them responded to her question because they didn’t know what awaited them. One day at a time, Kirsten reminded herself.

  For the next week, the three whispered back and forth. They kept a positive attitude considering the grave situation. One day, a soldier brought down several more prisoners and jammed them into the cells with others. The three were not the only ones whispering to each other. Soon there was conversation flowing among all of the people in the hull. They quickly found out who was in each cell and how they were faring. Many people were beat up, but didn’t have life-threatening injuries. Those who weren’t going to make it had already passed.

  Kirsten and Maija had torn up part of their burlap sacks, tying them off to create smaller bags. They filled them with the rotting grain that was in their cell and passed it through the bars to those who needed it the most. Several people talked of escaping the cells, but their conversations didn’t last long before someone would dismiss the idea. Once a man had attempted to tackle a soldier who was putting a prisoner into his cell. The soldier was much stronger and apprehended the starving man. The soldiers took him up to the deck and he didn’t return. After that incident, many of the people who had whispered of escape stopped. They were beginning to lose hope that they’d ever get off the ship.

  ***

  Almost two weeks had passed since they were forced onto the ship when Kirsten had the idea. She was thinking about how the man who had tried to tackle the soldier completely took him by surprise. Had the Westland prisoner been stronger, they might’ve succeeded. She knew their ship would eventually reach its destination and then the prisoners would be offloaded. When the soldiers came to accompany them off the ship, the prisoners would most likely be taken up as a group and then placed somewhere else. If all of the prisoners took on the soldiers at the same time when they were being brought off the ship, they might be able to take the soldiers by surprise. Kirsten estimated there were now about twice as many prisoners as there were soldiers. If she could convince the rest of the prisoners to follow through with her plan, they would outnumber their enemy two to one.

  She shared her idea with Maija, who seemed to think it was about as good an idea as any.

  “What do we have to lose?” Maija asked when she heard Kirsten’s idea.

  Kirsten told Thomas next, who asked her more in-depth questions about timing and the signals that they would need to communicate with one another. Kirsten was feeling better about the plan already and now had something to look forward to.

  The three of them began spreading the idea around to the other prisoners. It took a few days for each prisoner to get a clear idea of what he or she would be doing and how to do it. When they got the point across, it seemed like they had a good showing of support. All they had to do now was wait for the day they all would be transferred. Once they were above deck, the signal would be given and their rebellion would begin.

  Nearly three weeks had passed since they’d been abducted when one evening the ship came to a complete halt. Maija and Kirsten woke to the sudden lack of movement. The priso
ners began to whisper, asking each other what was happening. Kirsten knew this was it; they were going to be transferred off the ship. She listened intently, but no noises came from the deck above. Nobody came down to escort them up to the deck. Confusion and worry began to sink in.

  “What’s happening?” she asked Maija.

  Maija shrugged, just as confused as Kirsten.

  A loud crash made them jump. The ship shook with tremendous force, so much so that they thought it was going to fall apart. Kirsten heard footsteps cross the deck, march down the stairs, and kick the door open violently. The light of the moon shone down through the opening and a dark outline of a person stood backlit in the doorway.

  Kirsten held her breath in anticipation. This wasn’t how she’d imagined the transport to go. Usually several soldiers had come to take them away one at a time.

  The man held out his arm and swiftly flicked his wrist. All of the locks on the cells simultaneously sprung open with a loud ‘CLICK.’ Those who weren’t already standing at their cell doors, ready to exit, were forced to rise and stand at the ready by some mysterious energy. Kirsten tried to move, but she was frozen in place. The more she struggled against the invisible force, the more strenuously it required her to obey its will. She panicked, unable to move a single muscle voluntarily.

  What the hell is happening to me, she thought. How was she going to lead a rebellion against their enemy if she couldn’t even lift her finger?

  All of a sudden, her arms shot outward and her hands pressed together like she was going to be shackled. All of the other prisoners experienced the same forcefulness and their hands collectively made a loud clap that echoed through the otherwise silent hull. The dark, shadowy figure in the stairwell commanded them. In an ominous voice, he said, “Come.” He walked back up the stairs to the top deck.

  Single file the prisoners were forced to march out of their cells and up onto the deck. None of them could do anything to stop their bodies from marching. They were clearly under some kind of spell. When they emerged from the hull, the silver moonlight blinded them. They had been in darkness for so long that their eyes weren’t used to the light. Kirsten found she could do nothing, however, to cover her eyes from the bright light of the moon. Her eyes swelled and tears began to run down her face. Suddenly, all she wanted was to put something over her eyes, or close them, but the powerful spell she was under wouldn’t allow it. She thought the pain from the bright light would never go away.

  The men and women held prisoner stiffly lined the ship’s deck. Kirsten didn’t know how long they’d been standing, but it was long enough for her eyes to adjust to the light. She couldn’t turn her head, but she could use her peripheral vision to see what was around them. To her right was open water. It looked unnaturally darker than she remembered. In front of her was the bow of the ship. The men who had once commanded it were nowhere to be seen. On her left, was a shoreline with dark cliffs rising from the edge of the rocky beach. It looked like the ship was docked at a large open gate at the base of the cliff walls. Beyond the gate stood some kind of castle or fortress. She couldn’t see much of it, but she could see dark stone spires climbing up from behind the cliff walls.

  Kirsten strained her eyes to see who had come out of the gate and was walking up the dock toward the ship, but she couldn’t tell who it was. She heard the person come aboard the ship. Walking to the front of the ship and standing in front of them, Kirsten recognized it to be the same person who had descended the stairs and placed them under this spell. Her heart raced; yet she still couldn’t move a muscle. The mysterious man was accompanied by several other soldiers who stood just at the head of the line of frozen prisoners. The spell-caster looked at them and for the first time Kirsten saw his face.

  The lines on his face told her he was older, but his strong jawline and proud cheekbones made him handsome. He wore his tawny brown hair slicked back across his head. His eyebrows, the same shade as his hair, came to a point. He had a short, well-groomed beard. Around his shoulders he wore a black cloak clasped together by an emerald jewel high on his breast. He was of average height for a man, and well dressed. Around his neck he wore a thin silver chain with several crystal-like stones attached at the base. He carried no weapons on his belt. He spoke for the first time directly to Thargon, who stood at his side.

  “Which one is he?” the man asked in refined Landish tones.

  Thargon snorted and walked down the line of prisoners. He stopped next to Kirsten and said, “This one.” Kirsten could not move her head to see who he was referring to.

  The cloaked man stood at Thargon’s side silently looking at the person behind Kirsten. He said slowly at first, “You are correct. He is not the one I am looking for, but he does share the boy’s blood. I thought their family would produce more dominant specimens. This one is rather thin and shorter than I would expect.”

  “I questioned him thoroughly, invading his mind for hours at a time. He does not possess the gift,” Thargon said.

  “Were there any others?” the man asked.

  “There was one other, but another hostile sorcerer showed up and I was unable to defeat him,” the beast said.

  “I have a good idea who that was,” the man said, clearly irritated. “They will no doubt be searching for this boy. You did not totally fail me, Thargon. We can still use this one to our advantage.”

  Without another word, the man made a flick of his wrist and the whole line of prisoners began to move. They were forced down the dock and across to the shoreline. Once on the beach, they were led through the gates and into a narrow stone entryway. After passing through the entrance, buildings rose up on either side of them. Kirsten couldn’t lift her head to see how tall the buildings stood above. The line of people was forced into a large courtyard.

  The marching stopped and the dozens of Westland, Rolloan and Southland prisoners were put into a new row of cells that faced the courtyard. As the cell doors closed behind them, the spell was lifted and they were given back their own bodily control. Kirsten was placed in a cell with Maija again. She looked out of the barred cell door at the courtyard in front of them. At the far end of the courtyard, the cliff walls that surrounded the fortress rose high into the sky. To the right of their cell, Kirsten could see a large pit at the end of the courtyard. Kirsten called out her brother’s name, hoping he was still nearby. He responded from the next cell over. Kirsten sighed, as she knew they were going to be stuck here for a long time.

  Chapter Six

  |||||

  The Trail to Brookside

  ANDERS AWOKE TO THE trickling tune of shallow tidal waves sifting through porous sand. The sun’s heat bore down on his face as he lay on his back. With his body half beached in the sand and half adrift in the shallow surf, he ached like he’d been beaten with a bullwhip. The scent of the salty ocean filled his nostrils as he gasped for air and coughed up water, forcing him to roll onto his side. Finally able to breathe easily again, Anders could hear birds singing in the trees on the hillside above him. A slow breeze swept over the ground, chilling his wet body.

  With a tired heave, he rolled himself onto his back and felt the slightly warmer temperature of the salty water flow up and down along his waistline. All he wanted to do was lay still and ignore his problems, letting them wash away and be carried out with the ebbing tide. He wished in that moment for his old, uncomplicated life, the comfortable life before Ivan appeared at the family farm.

  With his legs slightly suspended in the waves and his back nestled in the soft sand, Anders let go of his grasp on reality. His mind wandered freely. Becoming in tune with his surroundings, he felt as though his mind was reaching out and communicating with the soul of the world, a resonating energy passing harmoniously between his body and his surroundings.

  Like a crack of thunder, a voice sucked him back to reality, Anders, Anders! Are you okay? Angry to have been ripped out of his blissful state, Anders sat up and looked around for whoever had disturb
ed him. The voice called to him again, Anders, I can sense you, are you okay? The shock of the sudden voice, combined with dehydration and stress, made him cringe as the slow throb of a headache crept its way into his consciousness. Anders squinted to shade his eyes with his bushy brown eyebrows and scanned his immediate surroundings for whoever was calling to him, but he couldn’t see anyone. He was confused. Am I going insane? he thought to himself.

  Anders, it’s Ivan. You can’t see me right now, but I know you can hear me. Are you all right? the voice said.

  Anders responded out loud, “How are you doing that? I can’t see you. Where are you?”

  It’s something sorcerers can do. I’m extending my mind into yours, so we can talk to each other. I’ve been searching the area for hours with my senses but haven’t been able to feel your thoughts until just recently. All of a sudden you showed up like a beacon, Ivan’s voice said.

  “How is that possible?” Anders asked, his headache growing from a slow throb to a pulsating stab of pain.

  It’s a part of the magic I can still control. I need to know where you are so we can find you. For some reason I cannot sense your location, I can only feel the presence of your mind. Our ship was destroyed and most of the crew was lost. I was able to reach Max; he’s with me now. Others survived as well, but they’re scattered along the shoreline and their thoughts are too distant for me to sense clearly, Ivan said.

  Anders rose to his feet stiffly. Still somewhat groggy, Anders examined his surroundings and attempted to get his bearings. Behind him stood a large hill covered in thick trees and vegetation. To his right down the coastline a broad section of cliffs jutted up, protruding skyward from the water’s edge. As he looked at them, he began to focus on the sharp outline of the rock formation.

  “Ouch,” he said aloud, wincing at the sudden intrusion of Ivan’s voice as it sounded in his mind once more.