The Guardians of the Forest: Book One

by Kelly Napoli

CHAPTER 18

  MERCY

  Around her, twilight began to fall.

  The air around her was cool, biting at her exposed skin. Her legs were stiff and cramped from remaining in the same position for such a long time. She had given up the fight to get comfortable long ago; it had been a battle lost before it had begun. Nobody had bothered to put the gag back on her, but she still found she was having a hard time breathing.

  The crude rocking of the wooden wagon suddenly stopped.

  Kiethara jolted upright at the sudden change. The men from the front barked out orders and the two younger men sprang into action. The boy in front of her reached further back into the wagon and grabbed one of the four brown, bulky sacks and, with a grunt, tossed it to the waiting man outside the wagon. The man caught it and threw it out of her view.

  The repeated this process for the other sacks. When he threw outside all that he needed to, along with a couple things she had been sitting on, he jumped out of the wagon himself and disappeared as he walked to whatever lay outside. For the first time in a long time, she was alone. Internally, she laughed bitterly at the thoughts she used to have about being lonely. What she wouldn’t give to be lonely right now…

  Still, even though she was alone, there wasn’t much she could do. It didn’t make the slightest difference. Even if she cut the ropes that bound her, how was she supposed to get past them? Even if she could use magic—

  Wait.

  The crystal was no longer trained on her. The boy had taken it with him, so shouldn’t its effects be gone with him? Shouldn’t the empty, drained feeling that she was drowning in be fading away? She expected her crystals to flare back to life, like a beacon of hope to cut through the gloom.

  Before she could wallow in the depths of another mystery, the other, older man came to the end of the wagon. He had a knife in his hand.

  She didn’t even have time to flinch before he reached over and, with one swift swipe, cut the ropes that had tied her ankles together. The blood rushed back into her feet with a painful throb.

  “Come,” the man ordered in his accent. It was clear that her language was more of a challenge for him than it was for his master.

  Kiethara stretched out her legs, grimacing when she heard them crack. She shuffled over to the man with the knife. Impatient, the man grabbed the top of her arm and dragged her the remainder of the way, yanking her out of the covered wagon. She stumbled as her unstable legs hit the grassy ground. Recovering herself, she looked up.

  She gasped.

  Impossible.

  All around her, she was surrounded by grass. Endless grass. It stretched from horizon to horizon, only spotted occasionally by a random wild flower. Not a single cloud broke the fading blue sky, nor a tree could be seen in any direction. She whipped her head around frantically, but she could find nothing that intruded upon the sea of grass besides themselves. She could not find a tree. It was impossible. She had never seen anything like this before in her life—she had never not been able to spot a tree!

  After a minute of dead silence, where Kiethara could only gaze, transfixed, at the dream before her, someone chuckled.

  She whipped her head around again to see the leader watching her with a deep, unnerving satisfaction.

  “What’s wrong, forest-girl?” he asked, mocking her.

  “W-where am I?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.

  “A valley,” he replied nonchalantly, picking at his finger.

  Kiethara looked down so she would not have to see neither him nor the grassy scene. She felt…so vulnerable in these surroundings, especially without her magic.

  “What did you do to me?”

  “I took your power away,” he stated calmly.

  “How?” she stressed.

  “That is of no concern to you, forest-girl,” he told her.

  She didn’t have the energy to argue with his less than satisfactory answer. She looked around her in awe. This was what the outside world looked like?

  “Get moving!” the man holding her barked, pushing her forward.

  Her legs had still not fully recovered and, with her hands tied behind her back, there was no possible way to catch herself. All she was able to do was twist her body so she could cushion her landing, but still, all her previous bruises throbbed in unison.

  “Be careful with my forest-girl, yeah?” the leader said, his worn boots thudding as he walked towards her. The picture was sideways to her.

  “Your forest-girl?” the man asked, nudging her butt with his boot.

  Anger flared inside her. She rolled away from the perverted man, pulling herself up in the process. Who did he think he was? She grinded her teeth together, furious that moving away was the only action she could take. Her magic refused to return to her.

  “We got a feisty one here, yes!” the man said with a wicked grin.

  “She doesn’t seem to hold a liking for you, Rahell. Shame, eh?” the leader asked.

  “Doesn’t matter to me,” the man, Rahell, said, leering down at her.

  Kiethara frantically scooted away from him, until her back came into contact with something firm and hard. She craned her next back to see the boy who had been guarding her standing directly behind her.

  He looked down at her in alarm, as though he had no idea how to react to their sudden contact. Honestly, she didn’t know how to react either. Their confusion left her frozen by his legs, with him staring down at her in shock.

  “Maybe she like Natal,” Rahell suggested, his thick accent hard to decipher.

  “Doesn’t matter,” the leader said. He squatted down beside her and took her chin. “No one can have her.”

  “Why not?!” Rahell demanded.

  “What if one of our buyers wants a virgin, eh?” he shot back.

  “You don’t even know if she is one!” Rahell responded.

  “Well, why don’t you ask her? Natal, do us the honor,” the leader ordered, looking up at the young man behind her.

  “Me?” Natal asked, taking a step back in further distress.

  “That’s your name,” the leader drawled.

  “Why don’t you, Krit,” Natal shot back scornfully. Kiethara was surprised at his sudden ferocity. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

  The silence that followed his words was intense. There were many unspoken emotions calling out: fear, disbelief, anger.

  The leader, Krit, got slowly to his feet. Kiethara craned her neck up again to get a better view of his expression. It was calm—controlled—but somehow that made him more menacing.

  “What did you say to me, boy?” Krit said in an even voice, emphasizing the word boy with a scornful gist.

  “What I said was, you’re the leader,” Natal explained just as calmly. “Why don’t you ask her if she is a virgin, if it’s such an honorable question?”

  Kiethara snickered.

  She didn’t see who hit her. There was suddenly a searing pain in her side and she was thrust to the right. For the second time in a matter of minutes, she was on the ground, groaning in pain.

  “What are you laughing at, forest-girl?!” the man yelled at her.

  Her instinct was screaming at her, too. She knew she shouldn’t have done that, for it certainly wasn’t helping her situation. But for some reason beyond her, she couldn’t stop herself from saying the next thing that popped into her head. Now, the only thing she had to fight with was her tongue.

  “Nothing funnier than a man’s wounded pride.”

  There was another blow, this time to her back. She pressed her lips together to stop herself from screaming out in pain. The last thing she wanted was for Krit to get any satisfaction out of this.

  “Do I need to remind you that you are at my mercy?” Krit asked, circling around her battered body.

  She didn’t answer.

  “I thought not,” Krit said, pleased.

  “Sun is almost down,” Rahell warned.

  All four of them looked up. The sun was indeed almost gone. Most of
the stars could already be seen, twinkling innocently in the sky. Kiethara hardly ever saw stars, or the moon, which hung elegantly in the dusky night.

  Krit began streaming off orders in their alien tongue and all the men sprang into action yet again.

  Krit and Rahell walked away first and, as Kiethara watched them with a wary eye, she noticed for the first time the camp that was in the process of behind set up. It consisted of four brown tents; the third man, whose name she still did not know, was in the process of starting a fire. The gentle breeze seemed to be giving him trouble.

  “Come on, up,” Natal said quietly.

  His muted voice made her jump. She craned her next back—again—to see him towering over her. His thick black eyebrows were mashed over his wickedly dark green eyes, giving him the expression of one who is confused…and conflicted.

  Kiethara quickly considered not moving at all, but then she decided resistance was useless. She could not let her pride get in the way, only her sense of self-preservation.

  But her hands were still tied. She tried to bring her legs under her, but she wobbled dangerously and fell on her side.

  She felt the blood rise to her face. It was foolish to feel embarrassed in a situation like this. It wouldn’t help her cause. It didn’t matter, she tried to tell herself. But if she had had any magic left in her, she was sure she would have turned invisible.

  Suddenly cool, strong hands grabbed a hold of her and yanked her off the ground. They set her on her feet and released her so fast she almost fell again.

  Kiethara turned her head slightly to look at Natal. Why would he help her? The other men would have only kicked her and laughed heartily.

  Was he giving her the little bit of mercy she hungered for?

  Natal gestured towards the campsite. His eyes, however, were focused on the ground.

  There was something different about this boy, something that was unpredictable. None of his actions so far, besides knocking her unconscious, showed that he was an active member of this crude gang. He didn’t seem to want to be here.

  Together the two of them headed towards the campsite. The fire had been made finally; orange flames greedily devoured the wood it was kindled with. Already, it was surrounded by the rest of the group, with each shamelessly grubbing down food that they ate right out of their laps. Kiethara couldn’t see what it was, but their unchecked noises and fervent chewing made her stomach growl.

  Krit looked up from his food to grin at Kiethara. He spoke a stream of commands at Natal while gazing directly at her.

  “Tie her up on the mat,” he said slowly, indicating to a mat placed near the fire.

  She was having a hard time containing it now.

  She had been trying so hard to fight against the fear that was inside her. She had pretended the conversation Krit and Natal had spoken in front of her had meant nothing; she had told herself that she was stronger than they were. But somehow, the prospect of being tied up on this mat, at night, highlighted each and every one of her fears, as well as illuminated every lie she had told herself thus far. Her heart thudded in her breast and her breathing was reduced to shallow gasps.

  Natal wordlessly jerked his head toward the mat, indicating her to sit down. She glanced around her, taking in each of the men, spotting the weapons they held on their belts. It was hopeless, she was done lying to herself—she knew she had no chance. Fixing her navy blue eyes on the mat and nothing else, she slowly sat upon it.

  Natal spoke something in the same unfamiliar tongue and one of the men threw something to him. It was hard to make out in the gloom, but as it passed over the flames she saw enough to make out a rope. He tied her ankles up again before seating himself at the fire with the others.

  Kiethara closed her eyes for a brief moment and composed herself. She needed to be strong. She scooted to the far edge of the mat and tilted her head back, towards the vast sky. Her eyes took in the moon and, despite everything else, she could not help but marvel at its beauty. It was gargantuan.

  “Forest-girl,” Krit called out, making her jump. “You cold, no?”

  “Excuse me?” she asked, turning towards him.

  “Scoot towards the fire, sweets. I can see the chill in your bone.”

  Kiethara threw him a skeptical expression. She was not cold. She was numb, mentally and physically.

  “You know nothing, do you? Get near the fire and watch what happens. I am not giving you the choice.”

  Grinding her teeth, she dragged herself towards them. As soon as she pulled herself to the opposite side of the mat, she felt the warmth of the fire.

  A surprisingly fierce shiver traveled down her spine, knocking her teeth together. She did not realize how chilled she really was until she felt the warmth. In the forest, even on the coldest days, the warmest thing she had had was her blanket.

  She stretched her arms out to get her hands closer to the bliss of the heat, extending them far enough that the tips of her fingers burned. She swung her legs out in front of her, practically sticking her feet in the fire.

  “You see? I was right,” Krit told her with a triumphant grin. The other men continued to eat. The only one who registered any interest in the scene was Natal, who watched her with an unfathomable expression as he chewed.

  “Why do you care?” she asked doubtfully.

  Krit watched her for a moment, considering her question before answering.

  “I do not want you dead. You would be no use to me if you were dead. I’m not a…how would you say this in your language? Coward? Bah, the words confuse me, but I have no desire to torture you…too badly,” he told her with a wicked grin.

  She gulped.

  “Ah, you look nervous!” Krit informed her in a mocking tone. “You might control your emotions well, but I can still see them. Your feelings are clear in those deep eyes of yours.”

  Kiethara did not answer; instead, she averted her eyes. Her hands were warm enough, so she pulled them into her stomach and brought her legs up against her chest, resting her chin upon her knees, retreating inside herself.

  She was snapped out of it again by the sudden sound of voices. She opened her eyes to see the men were getting up and stretching, while Krit dished out orders.

  “Zacakar will be guarding you, forest-girl,” Krit said dismissively, heading into one of the tents.

  Good riddance.

  So the last man’s name was Zacakar. He glanced at her once, a pure look of loathing, before sitting back down by the fire. He unsheathed his knife and began picking the dirt out from under his finger nails.

  It was a long night; it was hours until she ended up curled on her side and, a couple hours after that, she managed to sink into a fitful sleep.

  It seemed only seconds later when she was shaken awake. She blinked against the bright sun, dazed, and then she heard Krit’s voice. It bothered her how that irritating tone had become familiar.

  “Arise, forest-girl,” he ordered. “Today we will reach the kingdom of Nikkoi!”

  Her stomach lurched. It seemed she would finally be able to see the kingdoms.