(New) His Captive Sorceress

Chapter 1: The Man in the Black Uniform

As I'm scrambling to get up, the staff comes crashing down onto my back with as much force as Kerius can muster. My vision flashes black. The sudden shock and pain cause my limbs to buckle under me, and I fall flat on the ground. The initial sharp sting morphs into an aching throb through my spine. Before I can take a breath, the staff is jabbed just below my shoulder blade, and I scream.

Kerius lessens the pressure, perhaps fearing that he went too far. My body is shaking, and I can't still. I hate that they can witness this.

"You're a coward, Kerius," I growl. "Fight me with your hands."

He kicks my side, and I wince.

The one with the sword, Oscus, kneels down and takes a hold of my left arm. "You should know better than to antagonize him," he says. It's hard to make out his figure with my long, chestnut hair sprawled out over my face, but I don't miss the feeling of a linen sleeve creeping over my hand. He tucks my arm inside the sleeve and ties a knot at the elbow.

My body is tense enough to make a statue jealous. The rough feeling of his hands makes me want to tear my skin off.

The staff stays pressed against my back, keeping me pinned to the ground. I'm left helpless as Oscus ties a second sleeve around my right arm.

Once both of my hands are wrapped tight in linen sleeves, the pressure of the staff finally relaxes. My witch's connection only works when my hands touch a person's skin, and the soldiers know this. With these on, I'm just an ordinary five-foot girl to them – a non-threat.

I gingerly push my chest off the ground, careful not to aggravate the sore muscles in my back. New pain shoots through my bones, and I grimace.

"Hurry yourself up," Kerius growls.

"Perhaps next time you should refrain from striking her so hard," Oscus says.

"I am only ensuring our safety," Kerius says. "You cannot trust a mit, certainly not a mit witch."

I stand up as straight as my sore back will allow. My eyes glare daggers at him. I'd snap back if I wasn't so sore. I was stolen from my country many years ago, and the guards never let me forget that I'm not one of them. If these Versillians used that word in Mephia, they'd be run through with steel. But because I'm powerless, held at their mercy, they call me what they like.

The sleeves on my arms look like long mittens that run up to my elbows. The material is too thick around my fingers for me to pick the elbow knots, and I know from previous struggles that I can't reach the knots with my teeth either.

Kerius shoves me towards the door, using the staff to lead me ahead of him. I put one foot in front of the other, trying to ignore the aching.

The two guards take me down three stories of stairs and out into the castle courtyard. Morning sunlight illuminates an inner garden of plants and flowers. The sight would be beautiful if it wasn't ruined by the number of soldiers spread around the courtyard and upper ramparts. The ones in the gray uniform have faces that I recognize. They're the guards of Antiock, this town. The soldiers in black are guests, but they still share the Versillian uniform style. Taking care to be subtle, I steal a glance at each of them, but their leader with the crimson stripe across his shoulders is nowhere to be seen.

Kerius pushes me into a passage of the castle which I haven't seen before. "Why'd you drag me out here?" I hiss.

The only answer I receive is a hard shove on the back, nearly causing me to trip. I shoot Kerius a sharp look over my shoulder.

They lead me into a small square room with a single chair in the middle. Their heavy hands press down on my shoulders until I'm seated. My arms are pulled straight, and each of my wrists are tied to a chair leg.