by Jim Galford
“And what of the others?” Feanne asked, her tone threatening.
“They don’t think it’s the right time,” Marr replied, meeting Feanne’s glare without hesitation. Her black eyes narrowed, and Estin wondered if she really could hold her own against Feanne in a pinch. “Right now, you two need to rest. We’re in enough trouble for roughing you up once. When…uh…when the others get here, I want you looking a little less angry.”
“It will be a long wait for that,” Feanne answered, baring her fangs briefly. “You do know these ropes won’t hold either of us long? I will finish breaking your muzzle once I’m free.”
Marr swallowed hard and looked away from Feanne, returning her attention to Estin. As she fidgeted, digging her paws deeper into the sand, Estin got a better look at the jewelry she wore. It was definitely silver and engraved, though he could not make out details in the low light.
“Can I get another piece of fruit?” Estin asked, trying to diffuse the tension. He would not get any real information from her, so long as Feanne had her on the defensive.
Nodding, Marr rolled onto her knees and held out another chunk of the cooked fruit. Extending his neck toward her, Estin tilted his head and got a better look at her hand before taking the food in his mouth. Once he had it, Marr sat back. “I had to toss the food to Feanne. It was kind of fun throwing food at her.”
“Wise. I would have taken your hand off,” Feanne said, her voice smooth and deadly.
After swallowing, Estin sat back. “You’ve been lashed on the hands. I saw the scars. Last I heard, that’s punishment for stealing in the desert lands. Second time, they take the hand.”
Marr’s eyes widened and she hid her hands. Nervously, she looked down at the bag she had taken off of Estin.
“Don’t bother,” he said. “I already know what you look like and have your scent. Hiding now won’t change that. Mind if I play a game that Feanne’s father taught me?”
Marr winced and wiggled her nose, rubbing at the blood matted in her fur. She looked decidedly uncomfortable and unwilling to answer.
“Lihuan told me to look at everything I could about a person,” Estin went on. “I didn’t understand half the things he could learn by meeting someone once, but there are a few things I recognize. Your breed tells me you’re from the desert, which makes sense, given that the Turessians had their eyes on that region. Your scars tell me you probably grew up on the street. That, I understand.”
“I know you do,” Marr whispered before clenching her jaw.
“The ring is silver…worth a small fortune in most lands. I’m guessing that’s what bought your services and was all the blood money you needed to attack my family. Bought and paid for—”
“No!” Marr snapped. She quickly dropped her eyes to the ground again. “I wouldn’t have accepted this for…I’m not a…you’re wrong.”
Smiling wickedly, Feanne said, “She believes she would be called a whore if she had been paid for her actions. Given the treatment of females in that region, I’m not surprised.”
“So you’re bedding one of our captors or the one who paid for all this?” Estin asked, knowing he was right as Marr’s eyes widened frantically.
A panicked half smile slowly spread across Marr’s face, despite absolute horror in her eyes. She backed away, leaving the bowl of food behind. “I’m sorry. You’ve both eaten. I need to go before she gets here.” Without another word, Marr ran toward the shelter of the nearby stones, looking back repeatedly at Estin nervously. Somehow, the guesses at her motivations or past had unnerved her more than Feanne’s threats.
“I like her,” Feanne said after Marr was out of sight, sitting back, likely to relieve the tension on her ropes. “I’ll still happily beat her unconscious, but I will not kill her unless I have to. She’s barely more than a child. There might be hope for her yet.”
“Of course you like her,” Estin muttered, reclining to wait as well. He could not quite get his claws on the rope that held his wrists, so he began picking at the one around his ankles. “Do you have your ropes off yet?”
Shrugging, Feanne changed position, putting her legs out in front of her. She had managed to break the rope that kept her ankles near her wrists, though both hands and feet were still bound. She began digging into the rope on her wrists with her sharp claws.
“I still want that garden,” she said eventually, keeping her head twisted to watch what she was doing. “I am tired of children beating me, kidnapping me, and trying to threaten me. I’ve spent a long time thinking about your retirement, and I agree that it may be the best idea you had in years. I have been tied up more times than I care to think about.”
“There were some humans back in Altis that would pay for that.”
Feanne stopped cutting at her rope to look at Estin as though he was an idiot. “No one would ask to be tied up, Estin.”
“I’m pretty sure they did…let’s just say that some of their couples made quite a game of it.”
“I would destroy you if you even considered that a game that involved me,” she answered, returning her attention to the rope. “Or I would tie you up with your own ropes. That may be more likely.”
Estin laughed softly at that, wincing as his finger slipped off the rope. He was making some headway, but it would take a long time before he was free. More likely than not, Feanne would be free well ahead of him.
“How’d you get yourself beat up by someone that young?” he asked, trying to kill time as they worked on their bonds. “I’m assuming the others are the same age as this Marr?”
Feanne scowled at him. “I didn’t get a good look, but the female I fought was faster than I expected. In case you forgot, without my magic I am not nearly as fast or strong. If I hadn’t been worried about you breaking your neck, I would have been fine.”
“You can stop worrying about me, Feanne.”
Feanne’s scowl turned into a full glare. “You spent years doting on me. Me showing concern over you doing something stupid is hardly me worrying. Besides, I’ve done just fine on my own for the last few years, not even knowing if you were alive.”
“I’ve always been lucky—”
“Luck?” she snapped, raising her voice a little. “Turess shielded you. Nearly killed himself with the effort. He was sick for a month afterward, and it took several more before he could perform any real magic, even with Mairlee’s aid. Kharali was furious with him for risking himself so and not even being sure of the result. That is not luck, Estin.”
“It’s enough for me,” Estin answered, finally tearing through one of the three twisted strands of the rope on his ankles.
Before Estin could argue further, Alafa came running around the stones toward them, holding her hat on with one hand. She stopped in front of Feanne, tilting her head to stare at Feanne’s frayed bonds.
“A little help please?” Estin asked when Alafa did not budge.
“I…no,” she answered, shaking her head and nearly losing her hat in the process. “They made me promise. Stop arguing and just wait.”
“We will be free soon enough, with or without help,” Feanne said.
“Please!” Alafa begged, gently tapping Feanne’s hand away from the rope with her hoof. Feanne went right back to clawing at the rope, and Alafa scowled. “Just until morning. She should be here by then. I need to go help set things up. Promise me you two will stay right here, tied up, and not hitting any of the children.”
“The one that came by was barely a child…,” Feanne began, but stopped and glowered when Alafa stomped her foot.
Giving them both pleading stares before heading back toward the stones, Alafa said, “Two hours. That’s all I’m asking. You can be mad at me later, okay?”
Feanne and Estin stayed where they were until Alafa was out of sight, when Feanne slowly turned to look over at Estin. “She still has her crazy moments. This would be one of them. Likely, one of our kidnappers was nice to her, and she wants to have drinks with him. It’s how she deals w
ith her grief over Barlen’s death, usually ending with crying on some poor male’s shoulder. I almost feel bad for them after she gets their hopes up.”
Rolling onto his hip to get a better look at the ropes, Estin found he had made good headway in breaking through the first. It would take him another hour most likely to get completely free. “I say we get loose and stay where we are,” he said, grinning at her. “Let’s see who’s going to all this trouble…and teach them a lesson. If it’s a Turessian, we can run like we originally planned.”
“If it’s a Turessian, we kill them,” Feanne corrected. She resumed tearing at the rope, her occasional facial twitches when she slipped telling Estin more about her progress than he could see. “You missed Alafa learning how to fight them. They can be killed. Alafa and I hunted down a half dozen of them while we were searching for leads on where you might be. Most of those still alive are hiding from us, likely hoping to wait until after we die of old age before surfacing again.”
A distant rumbling sound caught Estin’s ears, and he stopped fighting with the ropes to listen. Whatever it was, the sound began faint and grew louder by the minute. Soon he was able to identify it as wagon wheels and many horses. From the sound of it, there might have been an entire caravan that had just arrived.
“Are you sure about this?” Feanne asked, her fingers poised over the rope. Her perked ears told Estin she had heard the same sound.
“As sure as I ever am about my plans.”
“Not very reassuring,” she replied, sighing as she reclined against the rock. “I’ll have my bonds torn apart by the time they reach us. You should do the same. The last thing I want to do is save your tail yet again.”
Biting back his first thought for a response, Estin dug into the ropes again, trying to catch up with Feanne. The rope on his ankles loosened enough that he slipped it off, and he managed to adjust the rope on his wrists to work on it. With luck, he could get free before anyone noticed. In mild annoyance, while Estin was still fighting with the rope, he noticed Feanne relax, sitting calmly with a devious smirk. She was already free.
The rumbling of the wagons soon stopped, and Estin heard distant conversations start. Those devolved into arguments before going quiet again. After that, he heard what he guessed to be people unloading the wagons. Whoever was there wanted to prepare their camp before gloating over their prisoners.
Another thread of the rope snapped under Estin’s claws. Only two more remained on his wrists and he would be able to move freely.
From the corner of his eyes, Estin saw movement out past the stones. Feanne clicked her tongue to get his attention. Looking up, he saw a cloaked figure headed their way. To his slight relief, the person was wearing a dusty brown cloak, rather than the black Estin had expected. As soon as the newcomer cleared the stones, he threw back his hood and let his massive ears stand straight up. Like Marr, he was a desert fox, though this one Estin knew all too well.
“Phaesys,” he muttered, ripping away the next strand of the rope. “Who’d you betray us to this time? Anyone we know?”
Phaesys frowned at Estin, but said nothing as he made his way over to Feanne, taking a knee in front of her. Drawing a knife from his belt, he reached out to check her bonds. His eyes widened when his fingers got near her ankles and he saw the broken rope. The hand holding his knife tensed as he braced for the attack both he and Estin knew was coming.
Estin yanked as hard as he could at the rope while Feanne kicked Phaesys onto his back. Estin felt the rough rope tear through his already-bloodied skin, but it did give way. Feanne kicked Phaesys again when he tried to grab for his sword, knocking his hand away from the hilt. Estin pulled his hands free and ran toward Phaesys, getting to him as Feanne rolled to her feet, flicking away Phaesys’s dropped knife with her toes.
Estin took a swing at Phaesys’s face. Phaesys tumbled backward, narrowly avoiding being struck despite the weight of jingling chain armor under his outer shirt. Estin did not remember him being that fast, but given the years that had passed, Phaesys likely had time to train. Pushing after him, Estin resorted to an inelegant solution and slammed bodily into Phaesys as he came to his feet.
They grappled for a moment, and Estin reached for Phaesys’s sword, still sheathed. Phaesys punched his shoulder, numbing his arm, before spinning away and dropping into a ready position with his hand on the hilt of his weapon. His dark eyes darted between Estin and Feanne.
“Enough of this,” Phaesys said quietly, his muscles relaxing slowly, though his hand did not leave his weapon. “Look around you before you attack again. You need to stop this.”
Estin bared his fangs, then realized they were no longer alone. He looked to either side, finding more than a dozen elves with bows aimed squarely at both he and Feanne. Snarling at Phaesys, Estin relaxed and stood straight, offering his already-bloodied wrists for fresh rope.
Rising to his normal height, Phaesys shook his head, though he kept one hand on his weapon. “No more ropes. That wasn’t the plan in the first place. Someone got overly creative. Please follow me.”
Estin reached back, and Feanne took his hand in hers. She walked beside him, following Phaesys past the archers and the shelter of the stones. He had not gone far before Estin could see there was a small camp set up off to his left, where there were four bedrolls laid out around a tiny campfire. Opposite that, a massive tent had been freshly erected, with several wagons and more partially built tents beyond it. In the pre-dawn light, he could barely make out camels and horses tied off in the distance, munching food that had been set out for them.
“Got your father’s fortune back, I see,” Estin said as they followed Phaesys toward the tent. Phaesys male looked back at Estin but said nothing. In that brief glance, Estin saw anger—exactly what he had hoped for. If he could not strike at Phaesys with real weapons, reminders of his family’s betrayals would have to do.
They hurried to keep up as Phaesys neared the tent, the archers behind them continuing to hold their weapons at the ready. Estin did not see any of them ease the pull of their bows until he stepped into the tent, where oil perfumes instantly dulled his sense of smell.
The tent had been set up much like a noble’s entry hall in Corraith. A single carpet lay from the entrance to a tall wooden chair with ornate carvings. To either side of the throne, a dozen more human and elven soldiers stood at attention, their hands already on their swords. Estin had never seen any of them before. Even Marr was absent. Standing in the midst of his kidnappers’ tent, he still had no idea who Phaesys might be working with.
“Phaesys, go sit on your throne and tell us what this is all about,” Feanne said with more than a hint of disgust. When one of the soldiers met her eyes, she growled and the man quickly looked back at the ground.
From what Estin could see, all of the guards were reluctant to confront them, which struck him as odd. Who would bring soldiers with them who would not willingly face the people you were kidnapping?
“I would not dream of it,” Phaesys answered. He stopped near the throne, took a knee, and stared at the ground, the same way most of the soldiers were. “Master, they are here, as you ordered. They are unarmed—somewhat—and their bonds removed.”
Estin looked around the room nervously, trying to plot an escape. The archers from outside had closed in on the entrance and were visible through the partially open tent flap, giving him few options. They would have to go through the side of the tent to get away, and that meant taking a weapon from one of the soldiers to cut the thick canvas. He was so wrapped up in trying to find a way out that he almost did not notice as a heavily robed woman walked up to the throne from the shadows at the back of the tent.
The woman was no taller than Feanne or Estin. With the bejeweled veil she wore, he initially did not realize she was a wildling—the veil muddled the look of her muzzle when she faced them. Large blue eyes stared at him from the space between her hood and her veil, while a clawed hand rested on one of the throne’s arms as she hesitate
d to sit. Even the female’s tail was draped with silk, giving him little to go on as to her identity or even breed. Hints of makeup around her eyes and what he could see of her paws disguised even her natural fur coloring. Everything but her eyes was masked in some way, right down to her claws, which were painted a deep blue.
“Welcome to my lands,” she told Estin and Feanne, centering herself in front of the throne but not sitting. “Is there a problem? You both look ready to kill someone.”
Estin answered without thinking. “Phaesys betrayed us years ago. I don’t know you, but I want his head.”
The female turned to gaze at Phaesys, who still had not lifted his eyes from the ground. After several seconds watching him, she sat and replied, “The past is no longer my concern, so I must refuse. He belongs to me. I want no violence in my lands. You will leave him alone, and we will discuss this as civilized people.”
Estin looked over at Feanne, who gave him a very slight smirk. That was all he needed.
Lunging forward while Feanne intercepted the nearest of the soldiers, Estin grabbed for Phaesys’s sword. He got it halfway out of its sheath as Phaesys tried to stand. To his surprise, Phaesys was far faster than Estin expected, even after fighting him briefly, He countered with a punch to Estin’s midsection that knocked the wind out of him. Estin refused to back down. He kept his grip on the sword and managed to pull it free as he heard the female near the throne shouting something at him. Spinning away from Phaesys to ensure he could secure his grip on the sword, Estin readied himself for a fight he had craved for more than a year.
Estin came around and slashed across Phaesys’s midsection, drawing sparks from his armor. While Phaesys tried to regain his balance, Estin brought the sword up under Phaesys’s chin and grabbed him with a free hand, pulling him by the armor. Estin turned Phaesys around, yanking him close as he leveled the sword across his throat.
“I’m sorry, but we have some unfinished business,” Estin told the female on the throne, winking at her as he pulled Phaesys backward toward the entrance of the tent. From the corner of his eye, he saw Feanne kneeling atop one of the soldiers, with two more lying prone nearby. His path to the tent’s flap was clear, so long as the other soldiers stayed back. He had to hope those outside would hold their fire. “You don’t mind if we leave, do you?”