"In the name of the almighty! First I am fighting alongside the Black Ram and now I am committing treason for the Crimson Wizard," muttered Tobias under his breath as he reluctantly removed the woman's armour.
#
Solomon sat down on a small wooden stool inside the tent. He unsheathed his sword slowly and then drove it firmly into the ground so it stood by itself.
He stared at the prisoner who was sitting on the ground in front of him bound by hand and foot and gagged with part of her own tunic. She stared back at him defiantly.
"Kasa, go and stand guard. If anyone tries to come into this tent you tell them the Black Ram will remove the head of anyone who disturbs him." Kasa scurried outside the tent and Solomon turned to Tobias who looked agitated. "Go find the Crimson Wizard and bring him back here. It seems the enemy is not willing to attack us again today after all, so wait for the sun to set before you make contact. I have no doubt my cousin will have his lackeys keeping close watch on him for Lord Cortria so be subtle."
"I still don't see the point of this. Lord Cortria has the Breaker for this type of thing. If anyone figures out we are holding a prisoner and haven't turned her over then that's exactly who you will find yourself sitting in front of before they hang you from the nearest tree!"
"Then make sure you are not followed back here by anyone."
Tobias cursed loudly and then left the tent. Solomon turned back to stare at the woman. She looked so different without her armour or her helmet and if not for the fierce hatred in her brown almond shaped eyes he would have thought her harmless.
Her face was covered in blood and her breathing was laboured through what was almost certainly a broken nose. He looked around behind him and grabbed a pitcher of water from a small table inside the tent.
He moved over to kneel in front of the woman. He put the pitcher down and slowly drew his hunting knife from his belt and placed it against the woman's throat. She did not flinch or try to pull away.
"Shh," he said putting his finger to his lips to emphasise the command, hoping that one of the two gestures would make her understand to be quiet. She seemed to comprehend because she nodded ever so slightly.
With his free hand Solomon removed the gag and the moment he did the woman spat defiantly in his face, then tried to bite him on the nose despite having to push against the hunting knife to do so.
Solomon managed to pull away just in time and was then able to put his free hand around her neck and force her over onto her back. He jumped on top of her and kneeled on her chest. He grabbed the water pitcher and emptied the contents over her face then wiped the blood away roughly with the cloth from the gag.
The woman coughed and sputtered as the water drenched her face and as soon as Solomon had finished cleaning her she cursed at him angrily and loudly in her native tongue. Solomon was not actually sure what she said, but it did not sound complimentary.
"You really need to be silent unless you want to be tortured," insisted Solomon as he used a firm hand to push her mouth shut and cover it at the same time. She quickly found it hard to breathe again and this time struggled under his grip to free herself. Solomon pushed the blade of his hunting knife against her throat a little harder until she stopped moving and then very slowly removed his hand.
This time the woman was quiet and calm. With her bent and swollen nose she was no picture of beauty. Yet, as he stared at her face he noted how attractive her eyes were, set under dark eyebrows and surrounded by her wild curly black hair. Her cheeks were round and her lips were full and wonderfully shaped. He had not been with a woman for a very long time and he felt a sudden urge to kiss her. Instinctively he leaned closer to her for a moment. As he did so her eyes widened in dismay and the change snapped him back to reality. He quickly climbed off her chest and let her sit back up.
"Fear not my lady. Despite what many others would tell you I have my honour and I would not lose it by raping a woman, even an enemy one."
Solomon sat back down on the stool, grabbed his sword from the ground and started to clean it with the cloth from the gag.
The woman looked longingly at his sword and said something harshly in her native tongue. Solomon still had no idea what she was trying to say and just shrugged.
"This would be so much easier if you knew how to speak my language or I knew how to speak yours. Don't worry though when my friend gets here he will get you talking in a language he can understand whether you like it or not."
#
Farrel knelt down next to Starria and patted her gently again. He desperately needed to sleep, but he was too afraid to go back to the wizard's tent and leave her alone. The enemy had not attacked again as expected and the sun had just set a few moments ago.
"It's ok girl, I am here and I won't let anyone hurt you," he whispered gently.
Starria made a strangled sounding squawk and tried to sit up, but he pushed her head back down gently. It was testament to how weak she was that he was able to keep her still.
Farrel changed to a sitting position with his back pushed up against her chest and snuggled in against the soft underside of her wing then closed his eyes just for a moment.
There was a loud roar suddenly from the middle of the plain. Farrel sat bolt upright and turned to look out onto the battlefield. He expected to see the enemy army marching towards them again. In the half moon's light he was just able to make out a huge lone black manticore and on its back was the olive skinned woman who had invaded his dreams the night before.
The woman dismounted the manticore and stood out in the middle of the plain just beyond the bodies of the fallen. It all felt very real this time, yet even with the entire camp alert for fear of infiltrators not a single person reacted to the roar of the manticore.
The woman beckoned him and once again as in the dream of the previous night he felt compelled to go towards her. He stood slowly and started walking. The logical part of his brain screamed at him to stop, yet he still found himself walking out onto the plain.
The more he resisted the faster his feet moved towards the woman and the manticore. Unlike last time there was nobody yelling at him to wake up so he reached the woman and her outstretched hand. The moment his fingers touched hers the vision shattered like a broken mirror.
Instead of standing out in the middle of the plain he suddenly found himself standing in amongst a thick clump of trees several hundred yards away from the camp. The only thing that did not change was the vision of the woman and the manticore that were now really standing in front of him!
Before he could react the woman brought her hand up to his face in a closed fist. She then turned her hand over and opened it to reveal a small amount of black dust, which she promptly blew directly into his face.
He tried to step back away from her and bring a spell to mind, but his legs felt like they were melting from under him. As his legs gave way the woman spoke to someone.
"Bind him and cover him so he looks like one of those that fell in battle."
He tried to look around to see who she was speaking to, but his mind went blank. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell to the ground unconscious.
#
Solomon struggled to keep his eyes open as fatigue from the battle set in. Even the deep aching pain in his leg could not prevent the overwhelming seduction of sleep. Many years on the trail in hostile territories had taught him to sleep sitting up, so he sat cross legged on the ground and leaned against his sword which he had driven hard into the earth.
He had bound the prisoner himself so he wasn't too worried about her escaping. He had bound an orc for three days once while Farrel interrogated it. It never got away and it was at least twice as strong as any human.
He was not sure how long he had been asleep for when a firm hand on his shoulder woke him with a start. Instinctively his hand went to his sword behind his back and he leapt to his feet.
"By the almighty stay that sword!" cried Tobias as he lurched back away from Solomon. Sol
omon's mind caught up to his reflexes and he sheathed his sword.
"My apologies...force of habit."
The prisoner let out a short derisive laugh then said something in her language and pointed at them both while shaking her head.
"So you think that's funny do you bitch?" said Tobias as he raised a fist and made a move towards her. Solomon intervened and pushed Tobias back before he could strike the woman.
"Calm yourself!" he ordered. "The Crimson Wizard is going to need her conscious and with all her wits if we are to get any information out of her."
"Then you best let me strike her so we can take her straight to the Breaker, because I couldn't find your wizard anywhere."
"What the hell do you mean you could not find him? Did you check the wizard's tent?"
"I looked everywhere in camp!" replied Tobias angrily. "The last place anyone saw him was beside that griffin of his. Apparently he would not leave its side."
"He has some strange connection with that beast that I will never understand. He would not leave it unless it was very important or...it was not by choice."
Solomon paced around the room extremely agitated. Without Farrel the next battle with the enemy was going to be a bloodbath and Farrel had to know that by now. He could not believe that Farrel had abandoned them on purpose. Yet who could possibly have forced him to go anywhere against his will, he was possibly the most powerful wizard in all of Risandea.
Nothing made sense and in frustration he drew his sword then hacked at the small wooden stool that he had been sitting on earlier, until there was nothing left except splinters.
The prisoner looked at him wide eyed and started to wriggle away and pull against her bonds. He saw her out of the corner of his eye and turned on her. He wanted to cut her clean down the middle, but stopped himself.
He sheathed his sword again and placed his hand firmly upon its hilt to calm himself. He slowed his breathing, closed his eyes and concentrated on the feeling of the cold metal grip in his hand. He started to recite his oath to Farrel in his head then stopped. It was meaningless now. The only thing he had left was the hope of regaining his honour.
He opened his eyes and pounced on the woman, grabbed her by her bound hands and dragged her roughly to her feet. She spat in his face again and yelled something in her language, but he ignored it and threw her over his shoulder.
"It's time for you to go meet the Breaker."
Solomon carried the woman kicking and screaming out of the tent, but just as he stepped outside shouts of alarm erupted around the perimeter of the camp. A tent off in the distance suddenly caught fire followed by several others in quick succession.
"Raiders!" yelled Tobias who had now rushed out of the tent as well. He raced around the nearby tents yelling at the top of his lungs. "To arms you lazy farmers! Grab your swords or you will all die in your beds!"
Solomon turned to Kasa who had still been standing guard outside and was now petrified.
"Kasa, get back inside the tent and stay there. Do not take your eyes off the prisoner!" ordered Solomon as he spun around, rushed back inside the tent and dropped the woman like a bale of hay hard onto the ground.
A second later he was outside again and running towards the sound of battle. He sprinted between two tents and almost had his head cut off buy a scimitar wielding rider who was riding at top speed through the camp in the other direction.
The rider did not stop so Solomon kept moving as well until he came upon a series of tents on fire with men fighting in skirmishes all around. Solomon raced up to an enemy that was engaged in a fight with one of the king's foot soldiers and cut him deep across the back from behind.
Suddenly there was a loud sounding horn from directly behind the camp and a line of at least fifty horsemen came charging out of the dark towards camp. Some of them carried scimitars, but most of them rode with their reigns in their teeth firing short bows as they went.
They were deadly accurate and Solomon without his shield found he was quickly running for his life to get out of their path. He had few options and even less time to think about it so he dived into a burning tent then quickly crawled out the other side as the flames singed his skin where the armour did not cover.
Coughing violently from the brief intake of smoke he stood again and moved away from the burning tent. He looked around feverishly for a shield among the fallen as he dodged another pass by a scimitar wielding horsemen. This time however, he managed to slash as he ducked and cut a deep gash into the rider's leg as he passed.
The enemy rider fell from the horse with an agonising cry. Solomon ran over to the fallen horseman and drove his sword deep into the man's chest without remorse then stripped the dead man of his shield.
At that moment Solomon heard the ancient battle cry that had been used by the protectors of Risandea ever since the first king had been crowned. A band of knights on horseback lead by his cousin Aren charged forth to meet the raiders head on.
Solomon was about to join the fray when a huge fireball erupted in the distance. It was likely another attack and with the knights taking care of the horsemen Solomon charged towards the flames again.
When he arrived the enemy were already retreating back into the dark leaving just one tent blazing, the wizard's tent. Solomon charged towards it, but the heat was too intense and an explosion from within forced him to dive to the ground.
"No!" yelled Raamen frantically from behind him. Solomon stood to see him running towards the tent. He was not going to stop so Solomon sprinted towards him and cut him off by tackling him to the ground just a few feet short of the burning tent, which was now falling in upon itself.
"It's too late!" yelled Solomon.
"I can still save them!"
"No," said Solomon pushing him back to the ground as another explosion erupted from within the tent. He grabbed Raamen's face firmly so he could look him in the eyes. "Where is Farrel?"
"I don't know," replied Raamen his voice despondent.
"Was he in the tent?" insisted Solomon shaking his head to snap him out of it.
"I don't know! I had just finished tending the wounded and I was checking on his griffin when the attack started," snapped Raamen and shoved him away.
Solomon let Raamen go and took a moment to think. The sounds of the raid were dissipating. The enemy had not attacked again that same day even though they had vastly superior numbers and now they were resorting to a night raid. They were obviously fearful of Farrel's magic or they would not have put such a great effort into killing everyone inside the wizard's tent. Or perhaps it was just meant to look like they killed everyone.
There was only one person who might be able to shed some light on the enemy's true intent and she was currently his prisoner. There was no honour in torture, but he had seen people with the skin peeled back from their fingers one by one when he had been briefly held captive by orcs. Strong or weak everyone talked by the second finger.
While he had no intent of actually doing it his prisoner did not know that. Perhaps he could bluff information out of her before he had to pass her over to the Breaker.
He raced back to where he had cut down the enemy horsemen. He bent down and grabbed one of the man's hands then went to grab his hunting knife. His intent was to remove one of the dead man's fingers so he could demonstrate graphically what he intended to do to her.
To his surprise his hunting knife was not in its sheath. He cast his mind back. The last time he had it out was to threaten the prisoner after which he had re-sheathed it. Then it suddenly dawned on him that he had flung the woman over his shoulder to carry her to the Breaker!
Solomon cursed loudly and vehemently for being so stupid and sprinted back towards his tent.
#
Razma fell back to the ground heavily, so heavily it knocked the wind out of her. She did not cry out. Like all Nizari warriors she was trained not to show pain or fear in front of the enemy, that would be cowardly. She also pushed her hands together as hard as she could
when she fell so the hunting knife stayed hidden between her bound wrists.
She had been subtly working away at her bonds ever since she had been captured. However the warrior called the Black Ram was very skilled and she had made no progress even after several hours.
The Black Ram was certainly a wily one. Even the way he slept made it impossible for her to lift anything from his pockets or belt. She also had to begrudgingly accept that he was a skilled warrior with every laboured breath that she took through her broken nose.
She was desperate to kill him by her own hand. Regrettably that was going to have to wait because escape was now imperative if she wanted to save her sister Kimiya. Once the Azdaha found out that the Crimson Magi was nowhere to be found it was only a matter of time before they went to Kimiya.
She thanked Zartosh silently when the Black Ram dashed out of the tent ready to fight. She hoped with all her will that none of the Hashashin killed him before she could. He left behind the wide eyed boy called Kasa. He was no warrior, that was for sure, he looked more like a herder of goats.
She carefully wriggled into a sitting position. Kasa was standing at the entry to the tent with his sword drawn and he watched her fearfully. He flinched at every shout and clash of sword on sword that came from outside.
She stared at him for a moment then shrugged and rolled over onto her side facing away from him as though she planned to try and sleep. She lay there for a few agonisingly long minutes before she started to slowly wriggle the hunting knife out from between her wrists and onto the ground.
There were heavy footsteps outside the tent so she stopped and held her breath. If the Black Ram returned now she would have no hope of escape. Fortunately the footsteps passed as whoever it was kept running by.
She carefully grabbed the hunting knife between her bound hands and deftly spun it back around so the blade was against the rope. She then curled tightly into the foetal position to further hide the slow motion of her wrists back and forth against the rope.
It took what seemed like an eternity, but the rope finally started to fray. She started to move more vigorously now with the noise outside distracting her young guard. A moment later her hands were free. She peered subtly back over her shoulder towards Kasa. His sword was still drawn, but now he was focused at looking out of the tent flap at something happening just outside.
Visions of Magic - Invasion Page 7