by Lorna George
‘We need to get out of here,’ she said suddenly, realising the imminent danger they were in. Everyone looked at her in surprise, but before she could warn them of the possible threat, an all too familiar shriek tore through the air, confirming her fears.
It all happened so fast, and before the scream of the harpy had even stopped, before Naomi could draw a weapon, the great feathered beast had swooped down and snatched her up in its powerful talons. She heard Esta cry out in horror and the shouts of Naseem and Rostam as they tried to react, but it was too late. With a few beats of its great wings, she was higher than their arrows could reach, and higher than she wanted to fall. She stopped struggling, and waited.
Chapter Nineteen
It didn’t take long for the forest to thin and give way to rolling farmlands, and the battlements of the fief and port of Pearpetal to rise up slowly in the distance. The speed of the harpy, despite how inconvenient and uncomfortable, was something to be marvelled at. They would reach the garrison a whole lot faster than Naomi had anticipated, and who knew? With a little luck, perhaps she would find Rayan. Maybe even between the two of them they could get out of there before Arun did something intolerably stupid.
Naomi grimaced at that, knowing that she possibly ought to let the man know what had happened, but something in her refused on the grounds of it sounding too much like a request for help. Of course, with or without her own capture, she had realised a rescue mission would be on the cards for Rayan anyway, but she also knew that whoever was apparently trying to lure Arun to the garrison was obviously expecting that. Hoping for it, even. Arun and the insignificant force currently at his disposal would come rushing into a trap.
When she had learnt of Rayan’s capture, Naomi had been silently planning a stealthy rescue with maybe two or three others. She knew that, governed by his emotions as he was, such a plan was unlikely to occur to Arun. He was too bull-headed. The best chance any of them had now of getting out of this mess alive was if Naomi herself could break out and drag Rayan with her. She knew from her time fighting in the Pirate Wars that Rayan was a formidable warrior, and she could only hope they hadn’t tortured him to an extent where she would have to drag him. They stood a far better chance with him upright.
She had been feeling strangely calm since her capture, probably from the realisation that there was little she could do from this great height, but as the harpy flew over the battlements and began to slowly descend, all semblance of tranquil acceptance left her. A vision of the dark hole she had spent the last four years occupying flashed through her thoughts, suffocating her with panic. She felt another nudge from Arun, apparently concerned by her sudden fear, but she pushed both him and the horrific memories back from her mind.
Taking a breath, she tasted the salt of the sea and looked up to see the familiar buildings of Pearpetal and the wide ocean behind them, glittering despite the grey skies. There was only one ship docked in the harbour, which was unusual, and of Ffionite origin, if a little battered. The sea spread out behind it, drawing her attention like a sheet of finely rippled blue glass. It was an impressive sight, but not enough to wipe the terror completely away. She couldn’t be locked away again. She wasn’t sure she could survive it a second time.
Her eyes ran over the layout of the fief, looking for changes that might indicate higher security, and knew she had to focus on an escape instead of the impending imprisonment and probably torture. The town hadn’t changed much from what she could see, which bode well for her plans, but much like Chloris, it seemed empty and run down. The port towns had borne the brunt of the pirate attacks, and from the look of things it hadn’t been top of Adrienne’s priorities to have the damage repaired. It was sad to see it so dilapidated, roofs caved in and windows boarded up, but the closer they flew to the crumbling garrison, the more she felt sure of unaided escape. It went a long way to soothing her suddenly frayed courage.
The harpy began to dive sharply, shrieking, and held fast as she was, Naomi was left unable to cover her ears. She flinched violently, then braced herself, unsure how careful the creature would be in depositing her. She was surprised when, swooping to the top battlements rather than down in the main courtyard, she was placed as carefully as possible before being released to her feet. Stumbling slightly, she noted the lack of guards, only four converging on them, and searched about quickly for some kind of weapon while the harpy came in to land behind her. No longer in possession of her bow and arrows, both having been unceremoniously torn from her shoulder, she was left defenceless.
There was the fire magic she shared with Arun through their Bond spell, but after the grisly outcome of last night Naomi decided she would rather not touch it if she didn’t have to. Not only that, but using it would alert him to her predicament, something she wanted to hold off for as long as possible until she had some kind of definite idea of what was coming. She remembered the small dagger secreted away in her boot, but she wasn’t stupid enough to go up against a full-grown harpy with just that. She was better off saving that for her escape plans and playing the part of the well-behaved prisoner for now. As the four guards came up short of them, watching the harpy warily, Naomi knew where the balance of power sat and turned to the great creature.
‘I have captured you, Small Warrior,’ the harpy spoke, sounding oddly uncertain. ‘You will submit.’
Naomi said nothing, but kept her posture relaxed and non-threatening as she nodded once. This only seemed to confuse the creature further though as it cocked its head to one side, amber eyes boring into her.
‘You are the Small Warrior.’
It didn’t really sound like a question, but Naomi felt that some form of response was required of her. Completely baffled, she could only shrug.
‘My sister, Genevieve, strongest of our nest and favourite of our master, has been hunting your scent,’ the harpy pressed.
‘Lord Cygnus is your master?’
At this clarification, the creature seemed surer of itself. ‘We are sworn to him, and he has ordered the death of your dragon. You are bait.’
‘Dragon?’ Naomi asked.
‘Your dragon!’ the harpy snapped. ‘You are his mate! You are bait!’
Naomi grimaced. She was hard-pressed not to correct the assumption that she was his anything but steered the conversation her way instead.
‘But you already have bait,’ she pointed out. ‘You took his cousin only a few days ago to lay a trap.’
‘That bait will die soon.’ The harpy dismissed her words and Rayan’s life callously, and Naomi felt a chill of anger. She tried hard not to show it.
‘How unfortunate, because the dragon is far more likely to come for his cousin than for me.’ She knew that wasn’t as strictly true as she might hope, but what difference did it make? If Esta hadn’t enlightened her of the Bond tying them in death as well as life only a few hours previously, she might have honestly believed it to be fact herself anyway.
‘You are his mate!’
‘Well,’ she debated how to answer that, then decided to go with the truth. ‘No, not really. Humans don’t always mate for life. In fact, it’s quite rare.’
‘He is a dragon.’ The harpy sounded uncertain again.
‘I’m not, though,’ she replied. ‘The point is, he won’t come for me, so you should let me treat his cousin’s injuries and help him to live.’
The harpy looked at her with evident suspicion. ‘Why would you help us, Small Warrior?’
‘Because I want to live, and the best way for me to achieve that right now is to help you. I care nothing for this “dragon” as you call him.’
It felt oddly unpleasant to say that, and she felt a horrible ping from the Bond, but the harpy appeared to believe her more now.
‘We will not release you,’ the creature told her smugly. ‘My sister plans to make sport of you.’
Naomi briefly wondered what she’d done to this Genevieve to ignite that kind of interest, but put it from her mind. She had foiled the harpie
s twice now, she supposed, but not obviously so. Deciding to take a gamble, she crossed her arms.
‘But you must serve your master, and I have a pre-existing promise from Lord Cygnus that I can leave this land unharmed.’
‘You lie!’ the beast shrieked.
‘I’m afraid not,’ she responded calmly. ‘Your master made a bargain with me that if I helped him trap the dragon the first time, he would allow me to live freely.’
‘But the dragon escaped!’
Naomi shrugged. ‘Only after my part was over and Lord Cygnus had let me go.’
The harpy seemed to consider her words and Naomi was glad that the incidentals of the matter were apparently not known. Harpies had an excellent sense of smell, and the more she lied, the more likely the animal was to notice. Being clever with her words without out-rightly lying was the safest option, and the harpies would be aware of Arun’s escape the first time, that there had been a plan that had failed. The fact that Cygnus clearly hadn’t mentioned her in the hunting instructions specifically was working well in her favour. It surprised her that he hadn’t, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. The Royal Chancellor obviously was more distracted by the possible impending war with Koren.
‘My sister will know the truth of this.’ The harpy bared her teeth. ‘She hunts, but will return on the morrow.’
Naomi nodded. ‘Then in the meantime, I surrender myself completely to your custody.’
‘I am Odette,’ the creature preened, spreading its wings impressively. ‘You are my prisoner, but you may be housed with the other bait and tend what wounds you can.’
‘My thanks, Odette,’ Naomi bowed. ‘I will be sure to tell your master of your wisdom when I see him next.’
The harpy looked pleased with itself and relaxed in its apparent glory. She left Naomi with the human guards and brief instructions on her treatment. Naomi felt sharp relief when they were told she was to be left untouched, but it was quickly wiped away by the bubbling apprehension of being confined in a cell. The fear swirled sickeningly in her gut as she was led away from the feathered beast, and she was glad when they didn’t chain her. She tried to focus on her breathing as she was flanked on all sides by the guards and began the long descent down to the holding cells.
The old place looked just the same as she remembered it. Dirtier and more battered, but basically the same. Passing through familiar halls and down the steep, treacherously slippery steps, Naomi found herself swept up by memories of the past. She looked at the faces of every guard she passed, both dreading and hoping to find someone she knew, but they were all strangers. Too young to be from her time, most of them. It wasn’t hard to imagine those she had fought beside refusing Adrienne’s tyranny, but it hurt so much to think of them all perished. She felt the familiar tightness in her throat from years of suppressed grief, and she found it hard to swallow this time.
There was the small hope that they had somehow escaped, or at least a few of them, and she remembered Tristan’s words to her that morning about how many had emigrated to Tsumetai and Koren. Clinging to that doggedly, Naomi convinced herself that if she could survive, so could they.
Pearpetal had been her very first commission away from home and the disapproving glare of her father, making it very special to her. This was where she’d learnt to like herself. To be self-assured and follow through her decisions with integrity, even the bad ones. This was where she’d first proved herself as capable as any man and become self-reliant. She had made friends here, real friends and comrades.
It was hard to imagine being a prisoner here of all places, but as luck would have it, fortunate as well. Of all the fiefs still standing in Ffion, Pearpetal was one she knew like the back of her hand. It was like an old friend to Naomi. It wouldn’t hold her against her will.
They finally reached the bottom of the last case of winding, narrow steps and the prison opened out before them. There were only six cells, but they were all of a decent size, with open bars along the front. When she had served here they had all been closed, with iron doors leading in to each enclosure and a small hatch at the bottom to allow food and water. This one change, the only one she’d seen so far at all, was a welcome one, and she felt some of the tension leave her.
Two of the guards fell back, the other two escorting her to the cell on the very end of the block, and the closer she approached, the worse the smell got. Her stomach turned over as she recognised the stench of rotting flesh. They stopped in front of the cell, and sure enough, there was Rayan, or who she assumed was Rayan, his face swollen and marred, in a heap on the dirty floor, covered in muck and crusted, old blood.
All claustrophobia vanishing from her mind, Naomi rushed in as soon as the bars were slid open, skidding to her knees beside the older man. She went to touch him, but pulled her hands back, unsure what the best course of action to take was and trying not to gag on the smell. Gingerly, not wanting to hurt the unconscious man, she placed her fingers against his jugular and checked his pulse. It was weak, but there.
‘Who did this?’ she snarled quietly, not looking around to the guards still at the open door behind her. When no answer was forthcoming, Naomi jumped back up to her feet and grabbed the nearest guard by the scruff of his collar. ‘Did you hear me? I asked who is responsible for this?’
The young man looked petrified, and the fact that she was unarmed and outnumbered didn’t seem to matter to either guard as her voice raised to a shout and she shook him none too gently. He whimpered, and his comrade made absolutely no move to help him. A reasonable voice in the back of her mind pointed out that these were just untrained town boys trying to make a living, and she released him with a sneer.
‘I’m ashamed of you,’ she motioned to the Redwood crest emblazoned across their hearts. ‘Honour and Duty. That used to mean something to those who wore it.’
Turning away to return to Rayan’s side and see what, if anything, she could do for him, she was surprised when the boy she had grabbed spluttered indignantly. ‘He came in like that! We didn’t do it!’
‘You didn’t help him, though, did you?’ she snapped, voice growing louder again in her fury. ‘Just left him down here to rot!’
Kneeling carefully back down next to Rayan, she reached out and placed her hand on his burning forehead. His temperature was far too high, his dark skin practically burning her with the fever she felt there. The rational part of her mind knew that his survival was unlikely, but thinking about Esta and the Bond they shared, she knew she had to save him. This was more than a little beyond her, but she had to try. There was no one else here, after all, and more than one life was depending on her. Rayan groaned in pain as she tried to move him so she could get a better look at his wounds.
‘Arun?’ he mumbled deliriously. ‘Is that you?’
‘Uh…’ she hesitated. ‘No. Sorry.’
Rayan seemed to focus his vision then, and she smiled sympathetically. He blinked slowly. ‘Lady Naomi…?’
‘You’re very sick,’ she told him. ‘Your wounds have been left untreated and I need to clean them to make you well again.’
‘I thought you were Arun,’ he sighed and closed his eyes. She tried not to be offended by that, knowing the older man was full of fever and probably had no idea what he was saying. He seemed to realise though, cracking a crusted eyelid and smiling weakly. ‘I’m sorry. It’s the Bond. I can feel his presence through you.’
‘Well that’s…’ she began, baffled, eyes widening. ‘That’s terrifying, actually.’
‘Is he well?’ There was an urgency there despite the slurred and weakened quality of his words.
‘When I left to find Esta, he was safer than he has been since he first came to Ffion,’ she tried to reassure him, and watched with relief as he began to relax again. ‘I need to see your wounds, My Lord. It’s… It’s going to hurt, but I promise I’ll do my best for you.’
Rayan only nodded vaguely before he lost consciousness once again. Reaching out to q
uickly check his pulse, she was relieved to still feel it, despite how weak it remained. He was better off out of it, anyway. She could only hope the fever would help deaden the pain of what she had to do next.
Turning back to the two guards who were stood gawking in the open door of the cell, she snapped out her orders. ‘I need hot water. Clean hot water, do you understand? I need a clean needle, decent waxed thread, and dressing. Lots of it. I’m probably going to need a surgical knife to cut some of this dead flesh away too, but make sure it really is sharp and clean, you hear?’
They both looked dazed, and one of them, not the one she had grabbed, began to protest. ‘We can’t give you a knife! Do you think we’re stupid?’
‘I think you’re dead if you don’t do as I bloody well tell you!’ she snarled, slamming her fist down onto the stone floor furiously. ‘You think I need a knife to do that? Just keep testing me!’
The boy recoiled at her threat, apparently realising that she wasn’t remotely joking. Oh, she could do it. She could snap them like twigs for letting this great military leader rot away in the darkness like this and not even feel sorry for it.
He recovered enough to reach for the hilt of his sword, but his comrade stopped him. He was watching her, and her eyes narrowed threateningly. When he bowed slightly, she was surprised.
‘We’ll do as you’ve ordered, Lady Naomi.’
She didn’t say thank you, the anger still roiling alongside the disgust in her gut, but nodded curtly and looked back to Rayan. She heard a faint scuffle from the doorway and some hissing between the two, but ignored them in favour of moving her patient into a more accessible position. She began to carefully unfasten his torn and stained jerkin to see his injuries. After the two guards footsteps retreated, she realised she hadn’t heard the door slide shut, and turned to see it left wide open.