Web of Eyes

by Jaime Castle

  Sora let out a soft moan and nodded.

  The two brutes stopped joking long enough to walk with their leader toward the ledge. Their plate armor was impressive, but unmarked. That meant they were swords for hire keeping the wagon and it’s owner safe. That meant there might be something worth taking inside.

  Sora cursed herself for thinking like Whitney. The Shesaitju stayed by her side. He inspected her, eyes pale and gray like the sky after a rain shower. He said nothing but Sora nearly shuddered under his gaze

  “I see nothing at the bottom,” one of the mercenaries said. “Nothing at all.”

  “H-how could you?” she asked. “Tis only shadow down there.”

  “How would you know that?” the other twin asked. “Did you first crawl to the ledge, broken as you are, to see the remains of your cart?”

  The big men laughed.

  “And pray tell, what would a knife-ear wench like you be doing out here all alone so far from your home?”

  “Looking for a real man, I say,” said one of the guards with a grunt.

  “Pick her up,” the trader ordered. “We can’t leave her here in this state.”

  Sora began to sweat more than she already was. The Shesaitju continued to stare, silent.

  The armored men grabbed her and yanked her to her feet, about as gentle as warthogs. She maintained her cool and groaned even though her blood was beginning to boil.

  She could hear Whitney’s voice in her ear, “Lesson three: never give up the grift until the grift is done!”

  She swore silently, wondering what he was waiting for.

  “Another member of our merry band?” one of the mercenaries said to the trader.

  A large hand slid over her breast and squeezed hard. She whimpered, experiencing real pain this time. Her gaze fell toward the cut on her arm. She imagined what it would be like to light the man on fire, staring from his boots.

  “Something funny, girl?”

  She hadn’t realized she’d been grinning at the thought.

  “P-please,” she begged, “I’m just trying to get to Yarrington. M-my-my car-cart went over—”

  The mercenary squeezed her jaw and tilted her head up to get a better look at her, like she was a prized steed.

  “Enough,” the trader said.

  “Why? You think a pretty little thing like this wound up out here alone? What’s your game knife-ear?” He turned her head again, this time more forcefully. Instinct kicked in and Sora bit down on the soft bit of flesh between his thumb and forefinger. He howled and she broke free.

  “You bitch!”

  The other twin grabbed her and threw her down near the wagon. Her head slammed into the dirt and had her seeing stars.

  “Stop this, now,” the trader said.

  “You hired us to protect you. The way I see it, knife-ears on the road are nothing but trouble.”

  One of the twins placed a knee against the small of her back to hold her down. She heard the others beltloop come undone. The trader protested, but nobody listened. A familiar tingle ran up her arm. The area around the cut went simultaneously cold and hot. The rest of her was disembodied. Numb. She felt fire crackling on the tips of her fingertips when the cart shook and down stepped a stocky, little, red-haired dwarf. He held a mug in one hand, ale dripping down his scraggly beard.

  “What in the axe o’ Meungor is goin on out here?” He looked at Sora. “We rapists now, are we,? Pull yer pants up, animal.”

  He shoved the mercenary in the chest, and even know the man towered over him he backed down. As Sora rolled over she noticed a strange sort of a hat topping the dwarves shaggy hair. When he got closer she realized it wasn’t a hat, but a half-broken circlet made of blown glass…

  Find out what happens next in Winds of War (coming March 2018).

  Jaime Castle is the pen name for Science Fiction authors Rhett C. Bruno (Random House) and Steve Beaulieu.

  Rhett lives in Connecticut with his wife and dog.

  Steve lives in Texas with his wife, two kids, dog, cat, and fish.