Chains of Fate

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

The world was black, muffled, and loud. Banging sounded all around me, and it took me a long moment to understand that I was riding inside a wagon, bumping over rocks and the roots of trees. Something dark covered my head and rope tied my wrists. I cringed at every jerk of the wagon, feeling the aching within my bones. I didn’t remember anything past the ambush. When the bandits attacked me, they must have hit me unconscious.

Murmured voices came to my ears, though I could only catch snippets of, “What do you think he wants her for?” “…don’t know.” “…see future…” “…dangerous.”

I shrank back at the last word. Did these people think I was dangerous? But if they did, they wouldn’t have put me in the back of a wagon that smelled of mud and horse sweat. Maybe that was what they did with every teenage girl they came across.

I just hoped they killed me before I puked from this horrid smell.

Suddenly, everything stopped, and I slid forward, banging my head against the front board of the wagon. Pain shot through my skull as a myriad of people started talking. There was an abrupt thunk on the wagon. Then, someone grabbed me around the waist and hoisted me on their shoulder.

I played dead because that was what they did in the books I read.

I was dealing with bears. Ferocious bears that wouldn’t touch you if you were already dead. If these were slave traders, there was no worth in me dead. They would discard my body and I would be free.

I would have to tell Titus of my amazing strategy skills when I returned.

All of this was figured out beneath the darkness of the sack over my head.

But when my captors removed the covering, it became an entirely different story. A story in which the breath was taken from my lungs when I looked at the people in front of me.

They were gypsies.

“She’s awake!” a nearby child cried, clinging to the cotton dress of his dark-haired mother. There were at least twenty gypsies staring at me with wide, frightened eyes. Most of them had black hair and bronze skin that accented their equally dark eyes. The women wore thick jewelry and sequined sashes of bright colors covering their shoulders. The men, on the other hand, wore trousers, tunics, and had knives strapped to their waists. Their looks reminded me of deer that were always on the lookout for hunters.

I sat in a grass clearing surrounded by forest. There were multiple tents erected between trees, and I spied a cart with pots and pans situated in the corner of the camp. Donkeys, horses, and a miscellaneous array of barking dogs dotted the land. I stared at the gypsies, and they stared just as long. The child who exclaimed before pointed giddily at me. “Is she the one he wants? Is that why—”

His mother shushed him before he could finish. My breathing was starting to grow quick. “Who are you people?” No one replied, and the boy hid behind his mother. What did they mean? Who wanted me? Were they going to kill me?

“Do not antagonize her, Barel.”

The rich voice came from one of the tents, and I turned to see a tall man with dark hair exit the tent. He wore a blue silk tunic accented with gold, and he had beige trousers that tucked into dark leather boots. He walked with a noble posture, as if everyone were beneath him.

I had seen it many times before. Either this man was a noble of some sort, or he was just downright snotty.

I studied his face when he stopped in front of me. His long dark eyelashes framed brown eyes flecked with green. The man looked like most everyone here, and I tried to figure out where they came from, but I couldn’t place it. Their accents were foreign—definitely not Norian or Arian. Maybe they were from Balua or one of the western kingdoms?