Of Gods and Warriors ✓

Chapter 49

Bjorn hesitated, looking at her poorly, struggling form.

"I'd no clue that this--" He pointed to the picture, "--is this." He gestured to Farren. "You see my point, Hilda? Picture don't match up that well."

"He's right!" Farren made a desperate attempt, for she did not wish to be handed over to the same godforsaken mages, nor did she had any intention to end up as their dinner. "The scar is clearly bigger and on the wrong eye. Not to mention, I'm much, much prettier than whoever that is on the poster! They didn't even get my face right, those arseholes at the Council!"

Elegant fingers moved across her face to gently lift the curtain of wavy hair and reveal her scar. The only reason Farren did not bite them off was these two people were her best chances at getting free from this upside-down nightmare.

"You are quite the looker, I'll give you that," said the woman. "But the scar is on the right eye. We can't let you go, deer.”

"Exactly," Farren squirmed, "it's on the right eye, and mine's on the left. You've got the wrong person!"

A devilish smirk spreading across her lips, she turned to Bjorn. "Well? Let's not stand around all evening. She's ruined the net, so it's just cabbage stew for us all tonight," said Hilda, "but who cares about game when we've got this? Ten thousand gold... we're going to be rich! Perhaps I'll buy a new lute."

"Stay still, and no sudden moves, alright?" said Bjorn.

Farren nodded vigorously, hair swinging like a mop that had come alive.

Heaving a sigh, Bjorn shoved his hand through the net and began loosening the rope around her ankle. With one burly arm, he pushed the whole tangle of nets with Farren inside it to one side so she would not crack her skull open on the rock below.

Hilda watched in silence, an amused look in her eyes and fingers fiddling with the strap of her lute.

And Farren's dizzy mind began working fast. The moment her legs would be free, the nails would slash through the remainder of the net, and she'll tackle the bard first--she looked delicate enough--next it would be run, run and run. Bjorn couldn't possibly chase her down with all that heavy armor.

She couldn't have been more wrong.

The moment she brandished her fists armed with the nails, hands shot out to close around her wrists, their grip gentle so as not to hurt her, yet firm like iron. It couldn't be Bjorn, who was still busy with the net.

"Shhhh," said Hilda softly into her ear, "Captain will be mad enough at what you've done to the poor net. She's already in a foul mood that her wife won't be able to pay a visit the next Spring Fest. Let's be quick and nice and try not rile her up, yes?"

"Your captain can die mad for all I care!" snapped Farren. Grasping the woman's arm before she could move away, Farren mustered up what strength was left in her, and channeled her immobilizing sorcery through her muscles. "Take that, fool!"

"A feisty one you are," said Hilda with a frown. "But you have much to learn."

With a jolt of horror, Farren realised her magic was back-flowing into her. The paralysis spread through her own muscles, dulled by her resistance, yet weakening enough to slow her down in her struggle. Hilda had deflected it.

"I'll show you how it's done," she said, grasping her wrists tighter. Sorcery grew thick in the air between them, but to no effect. She frowned down at Farren, Bjorn turned too. "A resistant, eh?" said she, "no matter. I've got stronger spells to work past that."

"Stop, damn you!"

Farren tried thrashing around as she felt her arms go limp, the chaffing of ropes at her ankle fall away as sensations escaped her flailing limbs. The nails clattered off her hands, and rolled off the rock into the long grasses.