Malik the Bard

by Moore, Scott

  These men drew their own bows from their horses. They proved to be much better shots as they all unloaded into Egg’s mother, making her stumble back. Mollie’s sword grew brighter and her exhaustion faded for a moment. Mollie lunged forward; the tip of her sword pointed toward the monster’s belly. Malik wished she would have stayed put. Maybe they could have still run, but there was no stopping her now. She gashed the monster across the chest, but no blood spilled onto the ground. Only a high pitched scream let Malik know she had even made contact. Mollie’s sword grew going from the size of a human man to the size of the monster. Mollie did not have any trouble wielding it, not even as tired as she had been. She pulled the sword back over her shoulder, and as the monster swiped at her with its massive claws, she took the hand from the beast. The monster stumbled back. Mollie drew the sword back again, all her pain and stiffness forgotten. She lunged forward again striking the monster. This time the monster did not yell out. It did not roar or try to swipe her away. This time the monster’s top half slid from its bottom half and it disappeared into the morning glow.

  Mollie’s sword dulled and returned to normal size. Mollie collapsed on the ground. Malik ran to her, but she did not respond to his prodding. Her eyes were closed, and she was unresponsive, but she was still breathing. They were slow and shallow breaths, but they were still breaths.

  Malik forgot about everything else in the world in those moments. He pulled Mollie’s head into his chest and caressed her hair out of her face. Egg joined them and ran his long claws over Malik’s arm. Malik jumped at the touch, but Egg did not react to the shock. Egg just ran his hand from Malik to Mollie. If Egg could look saddened, then Malik guessed this was it. The creature’s eyes were downcast and its shoulders sunken. Did it mourn for its mother or did it mourn for Mollie?

  “Oh, how I do hate those creatures,” Sweet Tongue said.

  Malik came back to reality then. He was no longer in that place where only Mollie, Egg, and he existed. Now, he was surrounded by Sweet Tongue and his men. Embre and Khris were already being held by four unfriendly looking mercenaries. One of them Malik recognized as Embre’s brother Zimbre. He was gripping Embre by the bicep, pretending to not care that he was holding his sister, or maybe he did not care, Malik was not sure.

  “I am glad you all could join us. I had word that the boat holding you went down in the Gray Waters. I was under the impression that you all burned up with it. No one else has surfaced alive.” Sweet Tongue was smiling as he talked of the devastation. “I guess it is the luck of the Saint’s that you came right to me. Abrie never lost faith that you would come find him.” Sweet Tongue’s tongue darted from his mouth, licking his lips.

  Malik was too focused on the man’s scars to notice much of anything else about him. The fear that rose into Malik’s mind made it impossible to turn his attention away. When he felt the rough hands grabbing his shoulders, he did not even put up a fight. He was hoisted to his feet and Egg was placed into another net.

  “Is the girl dead?” Sweet Tongue asked.

  One of the mercenaries walked over to Mollie and kicked her stiffly with the toe of his boot. Mollie let out a small whimper.

  “Looks to be alive,” the man replied.

  Sweet Tongue gave a nod of approval. “She showed promise. Tie her up in case she decides to show promise again. Also, bring her sword to me,” Sweet Tongue said.

  The man did as he was bid and brought the sword. In Sweet Tongue’s hand the sword did not glow, but Malik was under no illusion he would need it to. Sweet Tongue looked it over a few times and then draped it across his horse’s back.

  “Put them on horses and guide them. We don’t have time to wait around for them,” Sweet Tongue said. “You all are going to be very lucky. You will get to see something very special before you die. Mostly because I am feeling very generous, also I like to see Abrie squirm.” Sweet Tongue laughed and turned his horse away from them.

  Malik felt hands grasp him around the waist and then he was hoisted onto the back of a small brown horse. Another man jumped up behind him and wrapped his arms around Malik’s waist.

  “If you even so much as cough too hard, I will slice off everything you have ever loved,” the man said, putting the tip of a dagger near Malik’s midsection. Malik made sure not to jerk or move too fast.

  Sweet Tongue put his heels into his horse and the other mercenaries followed. The jerking of the horse hurt just as bad as walking. Malik closed his eyes trying to block everything out. Soon he would be dead, and he would no longer have to worry about the pain.

  Chapter 33

  Mountains and Caves

  Sweet Tongue and his men guided them back to a small camp just a few miles away. Malik realized how close they had been to stumbling across the mercenaries’ sleeping quarters. If they found the camp, Malik wondered if things could have turned out differently. Maybe then they could have sneaked in and killed Sweet Tongue. They could have rescued Abrie and then been on their way. Malik could have returned to his normal life, far away from Luberg. He would have been happy to be nothing more than a simple bard. He would learn new songs. He would start less bar fights. He would enjoy every day like it was his last. He would never complain again.

  The man he had been riding with threw him from the saddle and Malik’s vision blacked out for a few seconds. The next thing he remembered was being hoisted back to his feet by the same man. It was then that Malik noticed the smell of stale ale and body sweat. He had been too preoccupied before to notice, but the man smelled horrible. Malik’s stomach was already upset from fatigue and pain and coupled with the smell, he let the small amount of contents in his belly come up. He narrowly missed puking on the man’s boots.

  “You little…” the man started, pushing Malik away from him.

  Malik did not hear the rest as he fell to his side and lost a few more minutes of time. When he came back to, he was being dragged by the man and another toward a small outcropping of tents. He did not see his friends or Egg, but supposed they were somewhere being dragged as well.

  When the men deposited him on the ground in front of the tent Malik puked again. This time he did not manage to turn his head and wound up with puke all down his front. Instead of a kick, all he received this time were laughs from the mercenaries.

  “I hope I get to be there to watch this one die,” said the man who had rode with him to the camp.

  The other man just grunted his reply. Malik closed his eyes and fell to his back. They did not bother tying him up or pushing him into the tent. It did not matter anyhow; Malik could not move even if he wanted to. Malik felt like the first time he had gotten too drunk. His world was spinning, his breathing was heavy, and every moment promised to expel his stomach contents. Malik tried to swallow to calm his belly, but there was nothing but the acrid taste of vomit and acid. He doubted that he would be able to convince any of the mercenaries to give him a taste of water or any other liquid. He would just have to sit and suffer.

  Malik thought about trying to get some sleep. If he was going to die, then maybe he could go in his sleep, unaware. Even with all his aches, pains, and sickness Malik was not sleepy. He was too scared to be tired. He feared dying, even if he tried to convince himself differently.

  When Malik heard the thud of something hitting the ground next to him, he willed his eyes open; they did so reluctantly. Mollie was a dirt and mud mess from their journey and being dragged across the ground to the tent. The mercenaries had made sure to keep Mollie tied up at the wrists and legs, but they did not give Malik a second glance. Mollie had her eyes open, but she was only staring out into space. Malik waited for the mercenaries to step away before he struggled to call out her name. Mollie took a moment to turn her head, but when she did it was like her world had been filled with light again.

  “Are you okay,” Mollie asked him.

  Malik thought about the question. He was very far from okay, but he did not need Mollie adding him to her worries.

  “I w
ill live,” he answered, although that may have been a very generous answer.

  Mollie took a moment to monitor their surroundings. She could not move and neither of them had much hope of rescuing themselves or the others.

  “Where are Embre and Khris?” Malik asked. He had to control his stomach with every word he uttered, but the spinning was starting to subside.

  Mollie took time from her evaluation of the camp and looked to Malik. “Zimbre has Embre. I don’t know where he took her, but I don’t suppose it was any place she would find likable. Khris was not tied or dragged, they just pushed him along. Sweet Tongue knew his father as well,” Mollie replied.

  Malik wondered if Khris had led them again into a trap. Everything kept coming up roses for him while they were beaten and suffered. He did not voice his concerns to Mollie. He was not sure if that was because he did not want Mollie to have more worries, or if it was because his stomach would not allow that in-depth of a conversation.

  “They took Egg with them. They still have him tied up, and they took him to Sweet Tongue’s tent. We have to save him,” Mollie said.

  Malik chuckled and instantly regretted the sudden movement. After he let out a few groans and took a few deep breaths to regain some semblance of composure he said, “I don’t know if you notice this, but you are tied up and I can barely move my arms,” Malik said.

  He hated to burst Mollie’s hopes, but that was the reality of the situation. They were not capable of providing any help.

  Mollie looked down at her bonds. “Can you untie me?” she asked.

  Malik thought about it for a minute. Could he will himself up for the length of untying some rope for Mollie? Even with the thought of it his body screamed out in pain. He would do it for her though. If it was the last thing he did on this Earth, he would make sure Mollie had a chance to free herself.

  “What then?” Malik asked.

  Mollie looked out over the tents again. “I am going to try to save Egg,” she said. She looked down at Malik. “I am going to try to save us all,” she added.

  Malik believed her. He did not believe she would succeed, but he believed she would give it her best. Malik felt more for Mollie in that moment than he had ever felt for anyone else. He feared losing her more than he feared losing his family, his village, or even Abrie. He reached out his hand with every ounce of energy he could muster.

  “Don’t leave me,” he said.

  Mollie came out of her daze and really looked at him for the first time since arriving beside him. She was silent for a long stretch of time.

  “We have to try, Malik,” she finally answered.

  Malik knew it was not in her to sit back. There had been a brief time after she killed the man in the bar for him that she froze in fear. That was short lived as she decided to never kill anyone again and gained back her resolve. Mollie was not an idle person who would wait around to be saved. She would do all she could to get them to safety, even if it likely got her killed.

  “I know,” was all Malik could say in reply.

  He hated that she would sacrifice herself for them. He knew she would not succeed, but he would not try to stop her. He knew better than that. Malik gave it everything he had to sit up. His body screamed in reluctance and tried to revolt against him, but he pushed harder until he was up. He had to close his eyes and convince the Saints to allow him not to puke again, but he was able to stay upright.

  When he finally opened his eyes, he reached out to Mollie. “Give me your hands,” he said.

  Mollie looked down at the rope that tied her hands together. The mercenaries had made sure to tie it several times around her wrists. Malik doubted he would even be able to loosen a single knot, but he would expend every effort. Mollie lifted her arms out in front of her chest and Malik took her hands into his. He wanted to tell her that he cared for her in that moment, but like most things in life, he was a coward. Instead, he reached his hands across to her wrists and tugged weakly at the rope. It did not budge under his weak prodding. He tried to work his fingers between the knots to create a gap, but the mercenaries had done their diligence. Malik used both hands to pry the ropes, but they just burned his fingers for the effort. Mollie’s shoulders started to shake after a few minutes of holding them straight. She was probably about to give up hope that Malik could help her. She had probably given up hope that he could help her in anything long ago. Malik still tried. He would have tried until he could no longer move, but a voice stopped him.

  “As romantic as this is, I would rather she stayed tied up,” Sweet Tongue said.

  Malik stopped working at the steadfast ties. Malik turned his head to see Sweet Tongue standing alone. There were no mercenaries flanking him for protection. There were no others to hear his quips. It was just Sweet Tongue staring down at Mollie and Malik.

  “We will be moving soon.” Sweet Tongue moved a step closer to them. “Well most of us will be staying back, but you two will be among those I bring with me,” he said.

  Malik thought about jumping to his feet. He thought about placing his hands around Sweet Tongue’s neck and squeezing as hard as he could. There were hundreds of mercenaries he would still have to kill before saving Abrie, but at least Sweet Tongue would be dead. If nothing else, he would be able to take his last breath knowing that Abrie was avenged.

  “Don’t bother getting up,” Sweet Tongue said, guessing what Malik was thinking.

  Malik knew he could not get up. He also knew that the feelings, thoughts, and emotions were all nothing he would act on. Their best bet was tied up beside him. Malik could not even untie her to give them a shot at escape as small as it may be.

  “Where is Abrie?” Mollie asked.

  Malik wanted to be brave enough to ask that question, but his tongue felt like it was full of lead.

  “Sadly, my old friend is not here. Maybe you would have seen him if you stayed in Gray Waters. I hear he is a shoo-in for winner of the King’s tournament,” Sweet Tongue laughed.

  Malik felt his heart slip a little further.

  “You’re lying,” Mollie said.

  Sweet Tongue shrugged. “You’re right. He won’t be entered into the tournament. He already had his chance at being a Tempre and he wasted it on your…” Sweet Tongue turned his eyes to Malik. “What did you have that turned the great Abrie to tucking his tail and running away?” Sweet Tongue looked to legitimately asking.

  Malik let the words wash over him. They were just ramblings of a mad man.

  “So Abrie denied an invitation into your club and you hunted him down to kill him for it?” Mollie asked.

  Sweet Tongue contorted his face. “Denied us?” he asked.

  “It is clear you feel slighted by him,” Mollie said.

  Sweet Tongue laughed again. “I like you, girl. However, Abrie never denied our invitation. Without Abrie I would have never become who I am today. I never hated him for denying us. I hated him for abandoning me. Without him maybe I would still be as pretty as you,” he said, pointing toward Malik.

  Malik wondered if the words sounded so true because he was still weary and delirious. Was he still knocked out from falling off the horse?

  “Abrie would have never taught you anything,” Mollie yelled back.

  “Why don’t you just worry about getting to your feet? We will be leaving in about ten minutes. Happy riding,” Sweet Tongue said and turned away from the conversation.

  Sweet Tongue disappeared and Malik would have thought himself mute. He did not turn to Mollie to ask her what Sweet Tongue had meant. He did not belt her with any questions of the exchange at all. He just pretended that it did not happen. He had not heard what he thought he heard and even if he had, Sweet Tongue was a liar. They had missed their shot at rescuing Abrie, and now Sweet Tongue was trying to change their perception of the man. None of it was true though. Sweet Tongue was using their own minds against them.

  Malik felt Mollie scooting across the dirt to be near him.

  “You will be okay,” she
said.

  Malik shrugged. “I feel fine,” he lied.

  He was not only lying to her. He lied to himself most of all. He knew that the truth probably hurt too much to think on, so he convinced himself that nothing Sweet Tongue said had even happened. He was still unconscious from the fall. He would wake up soon and everything would be fine. He would find a way to escape Sweet Tongue. He would rescue Mollie and Embre. Mollie would make him rescue Khris, and then they would find Abrie and get out of this camp.

  Only a few minutes passed before Sweet Tongue made good on his promise of leaving the camp. Two new mercenariesone man and one womancame and pulled Malik and Mollie from the ground. Malik let out a groan of pain as his muscles stretched. Mollie’s feet were tied so tightly together that she was forced to hop instead of walking. This frustrated the man who was pulling her along to the point that he hoisted her onto his shoulder and carried her. Malik secretly wished that the woman prodding him along would carry him as well, but he could not get so lucky.

  The horses were the same small pack horses that Malik rode in on with the other mercenary man. He did not long to get back on one after having fallen off not much earlier. He could still remember the force of his head driving into the ground. The woman pushing him from behind did not care if he wanted to ride or not.

  “Get on the horse,” she said, pushing him in the back with the long stick she had been guiding him along with.

  Malik’s body tried to resist his urgings to climb on the horse’s back. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball near the horse’s hooves and just sleep. He could sleep for a few days and when he woke up, maybe it would all be over.

  The woman refused to let that become his reality. She pressed him again harder. “The next one will be less pleasant for you,” she said.

  Malik groaned, letting the thought of climbing the horse settle into his mind. He had no choice he told himself. There was no point resisting just to be beaten. Malik looked over toward Mollie. She had been hoisted up onto the horse by the man. He had not bothered to untie her feet, so she straddled the horse to one side like a noble woman in a dress. Malik raised his foot with another moan and placed it into the stirrup. He pulled himself up and sat his aching muscles into the saddle. The woman followed him up, wrapping her arms around his waist.