by C S Vass
“The whore yaps more than your three wives combined, Jaraugh,” a bandit laughed from atop his roan. “I wonder if she bests them at their other duties too.”
Jaraugh, his blue-eyed companion, smirked. “I’d be happy to find out, but these ones are for Kark. Still, her bleating irritates me. Shut her up.”
Faela watched helplessly as four of the thugs approached Yaura carefully and bound her mouth with a cloth. The last time they had approached her, Yaura had feigned helplessness until her tormenter was within striking distance. She then kicked the bandit, a boy no older than Paetrick, so hard in the head that his comrades decided it was better to leave him twitching in the dirt than bring him along.
“Here’s good,” Jaraugh spoke after Yaura was bound once more. “Let’s get some rest.”
It had been like that for nearly a week. After arriving at the ruins of Unduyo and meeting with the Shigata that had survived the attack, it was decided that Yaura and Faela would head to Jagjaw as envoys and learn what they could about the strange prophecy the man named Godwin warned them of.
Faela had been reluctant to part with Paetrick, and of course she still had a duty as a Dragon to report to Iryllium, but Brett had assured her that it was for the best that she go with Yaura. That might well have been the case had they not been captured by bandits from Killer’s Rest the moment they landed on the mainland from Black Wolf. Now they were headed east instead of west, to that strange peninsula of land separated from the rest of Western Gaellos by the Jagjaw Mountains where the exiled roamed in wandering hoards of miscreants and murderers.
They made their camp in a grove of dead trees awash with dirty sunlight. The ground was muddy and uncomfortable, but Faela was glad for the chance to be off her feet. It was still winter, but the snow had dissipated and the air became dry as they moved farther east.
“Mutton again!” one of the bandits roared with displeasure. “What I wouldn’t give for a chicken, roasted on the spit and seasoned with pepper.”
“It’s the same complaint every time with you,” another spat. “Keep up your whining and I’ll roast you on a spit.”
It was like that every day. The bandits would make camp at high noon and fight amongst themselves while Faela and Yaura sat quietly with the other captives, all women, and hoped they would be fed. So far she calculated her odds of that were about fifty-fifty.
A grunting noise caught Faela’s attention. Yaura was looking at her with the same wild defiance she always had in her eyes.
“No,” Faela hissed. The woman was positively mad. Rather than strategize and wait for an opportune moment, she wanted to attack their captors every chance that it was half-possible to strike a blow.
Yaura looked at her with quiet rage. While Faela was shackled hand and foot, Yaura was wrapped so thoroughly in chains that it was a miracle the Shigata could walk. The bandits made sure to keep her especially starved and had her chains attached to one of the horses at all times.
Faela could do nothing but simply shake her head in disappointment. She had never felt so helpless in her life—not even when she had lost her fire.
She knew if they were to escape, her fire would set them free.
The bandits had ambushed them a short time after Faela’s fight with the werewolves. She was so thoroughly exhausted from the magic she had used that she had no fire magic to fend them off during the ambush. Ever since then, she had kept her eyes half-closed to hide their silver color. An opportunity would come when it was time to use her magic to free them, but it would only come once. She knew that if they found out she was a Dragon, they would bind her like Yaura and she would never be of any use. Or more likely they would simply kill her as a prisoner too dangerous to transport.
No, there would be only one chance at escape. That was, if Yaura wouldn’t ruin it.
“So I says to the innkeep, I says, ‘I’m Lord Wolfbane’s son’,” Jauraugh’s companion told him while he was laughing, coughing, and eating all alarmingly at the same time. “He says, ‘you are?’ and I says, ‘yeah, I’m the son of a bitch that he’s been trying to hang for over a year!’ That’s when I knifed him.”
Jaruagh smiled maliciously at the bizarre tale. Faela shuddered. They called it Killer’s Rest for a reason. The men who served the various bandit clans and kings in the region were the worst of the worst Gaellos had to offer. Each one of them was marked for death in the West. They would flinch from no crime, no matter how foul.
“Please, may we eat today?”
The question was asked by a sweet young girl of sixteen, Kylie, who was one of the prisoners. She had large brown eyes and hair so light it almost looked pink.
Jaraugh’s companion scrunched his face with distaste and made a lewd gesture. “I got something right here to feed yo—”
“Yes,” Jaraugh said, placing his hand on the man. “You will be fed. Carlson, Earl, feed the slaves.” When his companion began to protest he continued, “King Kark will not want them thin as rails with protruding ribs. He’ll sell them or take them for his own pleasure, and starving them serves neither purpose well.”
The other man nodded. “Alright,” he mumbled. Then pointing to Yaura he added, “Not that one. That bitch is stronger than a banshee. You saw how she kicked Leon? Ha! The way he twitched he looked like a freshly whacked roach. No, we don’t want her feeling too well rested.”
Jaraugh nodded. “Very well.”
Faela looked at Yaura with sympathy as she was handed a piece of bread and a half-rotten apple. As always she kept her head down when receiving it. For half a moment the thought crossed her mind that it was Yaura’s own fault that she was starving. She was as reckless as a child. A pang of guilt immediately washed over her. Of course it was’t Yaura’s fault. What was she thinking?
“Thank you, sir,” Kylie said meekly when she was handed her bread.
The captor stared at her. “Aren’t you a sweet little peach?” His eyes glinted in the sunlight. “Maybe you and I should take a little walk—”
“No.” Jauragh’s voice was flat and severe. “The slaves are to be unspoiled. Those are orders from the King.”
The man grunted, but obeyed. Faela watched as Kylie’s face changed from red to white and back again. The girl had no business being in this hell. None of them did.
They were on their feet again all too soon. Faela felt her legs scream with protest as she rose. Her ankle chains were terribly tight, cutting off blood flow to her feet. She worried that if something wasn’t done soon, they might actually have to be amputated. Fearfully she imagined that her captors would be all too pleased to accept the charge.
They proceeded like that for several more days. Faela got a meal about every other night, Yaura perhaps half that. Once another group of bandits joined them with prisoners of their own. Most of the women in the new group were older. They came with their heads bowed down and didn’t so much as look at Faela.
One night a fearsome howl reverberated throughout the camp. Faela shuddered, remembering the werewolves that had come for them in the Chillway. To her surprise several of the bandits laughed, got up, and rode off to scout out the area. They came back an hour later with grim faces and bloody swords, but spoke nothing of their adventure. Faela didn’t dare to ask.
As they traveled, Faela was torn between the need to escape and the need to not waste her one chance. No good opportunity presented itself, and Yaura’s unflinching, accusing eyes were putting her on edge. They were getting far too deep into Killer’s Rest. Even if they did escape, the journey to safety would be an intense undertaking in their malnourished state.
Another obstacle also presented itself. Faela was becoming increasingly concerned about the young girl, Kylie. The way the bandits looked at her, the hungry evil glare in their eyes. She knew at the end of the journey hell awaited Kylie.
“When do you think we’ll get to go home,” Kylie whispered to Faela. The question almost broke Faela’s heart. “They’re going to ransom us, right?”
&
nbsp; Faela sighed. “Are you the daughter of a lord?”
“No,” Kylie whispered. “But…but Lord Wolfbane will pay ransom for his citizens. Won’t he?”
“Of course he will,” Faela lied as her stomach roiled. “It’ll just be a matter of time. We’ll get out of here soon, I swear it.”
It was then that Faela resolved not to leave the girl to her fate. She might not be able to save everyone, but she would save Kylie. She would do it if it killed her.
Yaura’s eyes bulged when Faela whispered her intention during their midday break.
“There’s nothing to discuss,” Faela said firmly. “I’m our only chance, and I say we’re taking her when we make our move. Which will have to be soon. We must be nearing our destination.”
Yaura shook her head furiously in protest.
Faela strengthened her resolve. “Either I leave with both of you, or with just her. Now get ready. I’ll be making my move at the first chance we get.”
A sudden commotion interrupted them.
“Will you fuckin’ look at that!” one of the bandits moaned.
Faela tried to see, but there were too many bodies in the way. She could hear someone half-sobbing.
“Wolf did that?” another asked.
“Aye,” the first replied.
“It’s turned green,” said a third. “Does it hurt?”
“Yes it fuckin’ hurts, you dolt!” another voice shrieked. “Think I’ll have to lose the arm?”
The others shrugged. “Maybe. Might be best to wait until we’re back with the main camp. Woods witch might trade a remedy for slaves.”
“At the King’s pleasure,” Jaraugh said firmly. “These are his slaves, not yours. You will ask King Kark if you want to use his property.”
A cold wind blew through Killer’s Rest as they proceeded on. Off in the distance, the Jagjaw Mountains grew fainter and fainter on the horizon. Their chipped, snowy peaks were almost completely out of view.
“Kylie,” Faela whispered to the young girl as they moved. They were surrounded on all sides by mounted bandits, but so far none seemed concerned about the possibility of an uprising, and they were allowed to talk freely.
The girl glanced up.
“We’re going to escape.”
“What? No. They’ll kill us.”
“They’ll kill us if we don’t. We have to.”
“No!” Panic crept into Kylie’s face. “We just have to wait. Lord Wolfbane will pay our ransom.”
“Lord Wolfbane doesn’t give a bloody shit about us, and even if he did, these bandits aren’t interested in ransoming us off. Haven’t you been paying attention?”
For a moment Faela felt bad about scaring the girl. The fear was palpable in her brown eyes. But Faela held her resolve. It was for her own good. She needed to understand the danger they faced in order to be sufficiently motivated to escape it.
“We’re tired and hungry, and they have horses,” Kylie said. “There’s no way.”
“There is,” Faela said. Then, looking around, she whispered even softer. “I’m Star-blessed. I’m a Dragon.”
Kylie gasped as Faela looked her in the eyes.
“Silver eyes. It’s true.”
“That’s not all,” Faela said. “The woman that they’ve bound excessively. She’s a Shigata. She’s going to help.”
Kylie bit her lip. “It’s too dangerous, Faela. We can’t.”
“What are you hens clucking about over there?” one of the mounted bandits asked as he jabbed Faela in the back with the butt of his spear.
“Nothing sir,” Kylie said immediately. “Forgive us.” The girl put her head down. Faela tried several more times to speak with her, but Kylie was scared stiff and wouldn’t so much as look at her.
That evening the bandits made camp just after sunset. The last of the trees were far behind them, and they were on a vast expanse of plain that seemed to stretch endlessly. Jagjaw was completely out of sight.
Faela looked up at the swirling stars that danced among each other, oblivious to their earthly suffering. She looked for any sign of the Dragon, even though she knew it would be too much to hope for that it would appear again so soon. There was no reason to think a second miracle was coming her way.
“Faela.”
Faela turned and saw Yaura’s ghost-white face. The Shigata had the cloth that usually bound her mouth removed so that she might eat, and she was able to speak again.
“We need to make our move soon,” she whispered. “If we keep going in this condition, I won’t have the strength to get out of here. We have to escape tonight.”
Faela bit her lip. Yaura wasn’t wrong, but still…how?
“I’m a Shigata, and you’re a Dragon,” Yaura insisted. “If we work together, they won’t stand a chance.”
Faela nodded. “Very well,” she said. “But we take Kylie.”
Yaura glanced at the girl, and Faela knew immediately what she was thinking. So small. So weak. Can she keep in a saddle or on the march long enough? Can she survive without food for a week if the situation requires it? Will she do anything other than shriek and faint at the first sign of danger? Faela knew because she also had those doubts.
“Fine.”
Faela’s eyes widened with surprise. She smiled. “Thank you, Yaura. But how do we get out of here with you bound so thoroughly? I might be able to heat the metal sufficiently, but not without melting it into your skin.”
“Leave that part to me,” Yaura said. “The bandits are drinking heavily tonight. I’ll…persuade one of them to unchain me. When he does, I’ll kill him. In the meanwhile, can you make a fire hot enough to break the chains that bind your hands and feet?”
Faela nodded. “Yes. I’ll still have the shackles weighing me down, but I should be able to break the chain that connects them.”
“Good,” Yaura said. “Free yourself and Kylie while I worry about myself. After you’re free, quietly prepare three horses so we can ride away.”
Faela shook her head. “Two horses,” she responded. “I don’t trust Kylie alone on one. She can ride with me.”
“Fine. Keep an eye on me. Once I lead one of the guards away, start working on your chains. It won’t be long until we’re ready at that point.”
The evening crept by torturously slow. Faela knew there would only be one shot at this escape attempt. If they failed, the bandits would kill them all or make sure a second escape attempt was not possible.
Kylie resisted once more when Faela told her the plan.
“Kylie,” Faela hissed. “Don’t you know what these men will do to you? What your life will be like if they take you to King Stark? You’ll be a slave. Property. You’ll waste away slowly eating crumbs that fall from their table while they use you however they want. Do you understand?”
Kylie was trembling so fiercely Faela worried the girl might faint. Tears welled in her eyes and slid silently down her cheeks. For a moment, doubt crept into Faela’s mind. She considered that she should just leave the girl. Tell her she’s right. It was a silly idea. Hold her peacefully while she drifted off to sleep.
No. She wouldn’t…she couldn’t. It wasn’t right. She would never be able to look herself in the mirror again if she abandoned the girl during her hour of need. She would have to be strong for Kylie until the girl learned to be strong for herself.
The moon rose in the sky. Faela was glad to see clouds roll in from the east to cover it. The less light the better. It would be hard enough to make their escape on a flat plain where it would be impossible to hide. Their best hope was to do so secretly, without anyone knowing, but she suspected that that would be too much to hope for.
Faela looked towards the horses and tried to see which looked biggest and fastest. She knew enough to know a destrier from a courser, but that was about as far as her knowledge went.
Meanwhile the bandits drank and laughed among themselves. They spoke of kings that Faela had never heard of and hoped to never meet, feuds she cared nothing
for, and enemies she wished would conquer these rascals. All the while they drank heavily from jugs of fermented fruit. Occasionally they would fight amongst each other, pounding their own comrades with vicious blows until both were covered in dirt and blood.
Kylie watched them with horror. Faela wasn’t even sure if the girl had blinked.
As the night went on, more of the bandits drifted off to sleep. Only a few scattered guards watched the perimeter. Faela knew it was time when Yaura rose to her knees and approached the guard closest to them.
It’s now or never, Faela thought.
“Kylie,” she whispered. “It’s almost time. You’re going to come with me, okay?”
Kylie’s eyes widened.
“I know you’re scared. But listen, don’t lose this opportunity. This moment will define what you are, what happens to you, for the rest of your life. Don’t be afraid. I’m going to take care of you.”
Kylie gulped. Her eyes were shaking in her head, but slowly she nodded.
Faela smiled. “Good. Let’s do it.”
Concentrating with all her might, Faela reached down inside herself into the well of power that rested at the center of her body. Euphoria spread throughout her nerves as the warm sensation moved over her. She felt as though she had taken a gulp of hot cider on a cold night.
Keeping her hands down, a small red flame appeared at the tip of her index finger. Kylie gasped when she saw the flame.
“It’s all right,” Faela said. Through her willpower, the flame changed from red to blue, and from blue to white. When it was as hot as she could make it, she placed it against the chain that connected the shackles on her hands. Though the metal glowed white-hot, Faela found it soothing rather than painful. After it was sufficiently heated to the point where the metal starts to melt, she pulled her hands apart as hard as she could.
Sweat poured down her forehead as she strained with effort, struggling to keep silent. The bandits on guard were peering outwards towards potential danger, not inward to their beaten-down slaves.