Very loud, hot breaths in his ear roused Stefan. His eyelids slid open, and there was Torin. Their hands were tied together, their backs pressed against each other. Torin was crying, hence the noisy breathing.
"Stef, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wander off, I just... wanted to be alone, and... I'm sorry." He sniffed, and Stefan could feel his little brother's head droop. Then it snapped back up again. "Atara! Stefan, where's Atara?"
"I don't know..."
Scanning their surroundings, a damp, low-ceilinged cave with a glimpse of the forest outside, Stefan realized Atara was nowhere to be found. Real fear rooted in his heart. He forced himself to keep calm for Torin's sake.
"We'll get out of this, don't worry. We'll find a way."
"Sure you will, boy." From the shadows deeper inside the cave echoed a menacing, disembodied voice. Torin cowered against Stefan.
Heavy footsteps came closer, then stopped.
A hulking body materialized out of the darkness, and Stefan shrunk back. It was a man the size of a bear, thickly built in the chest and arms and clothed in a filthy tunic and pants, his shoulders draped with animal hides. Perhaps he wouldn't have been so scary if Stefan hadn't recognized him as a foreigner, with dark hair, bushy beard, and leathery bronze skin. The only anomaly about him was the piercing blue eyes that glared at him and Torin from beneath wild eyebrows.
"Just try it," grunted the bear-man, in a surprisingly gentle voice.
Stefan couldn't say anything for several minutes. Torin was shaking uncontrollably.
"Who... who do you think you are?" Stefan finally mustered the courage to spit out. "Kidnapping innocent boys and their nanny for no reason!"
The bear-man dropped an iron pot with a loud clang and turned to face them, his furs swinging. "Trust me, little prince, I know who you are," he growled.
At this, Stefan quieted. This wasn't good. The hulking man knew his parentage; knew that his father was the King. Worse, Da had just left yesterday, sailing to the Islands to put down a band of merciless raiders. There was no chance of him coming to their rescue.
An hour slowly passed. The bear-man busied himself with making some sort of stew, stirring it over a small fire. Eventually, he offered some to the boys. Stefan vehemently shook his head.
"Suit yourself." He sat down on a rock and began sharpening a wicked-looking axe with a stone. Torin whimpered.
"Quiet, boy," the man grunted. "This isn't for you."
"Who are you anyway?" Stefan demanded. He'd had enough of this being captured business.
"Alemeth Bloodcrag."
"And why are you keeping us here?"
"First of all, little prince, I'm not the one who captured you. Second, I don't know why they're keeping you here. I don't ask questions. I'm just a guide."
"A guide for who?"
"For us."
Stefan might have had the urge to laugh if they hadn't been in such a dire situation. Five or six men had come crashing out of the bushes, most of them as large and mountainous as Alemeth Bloodcrag, except for one, who was obviously the leader. He couldn't have been any taller than five-and-a-half feet, but what he lacked in size he made up for in boastful presence. Stefan could tell that the man constantly went around with his chest puffed out to make himself look important. A sword that was too big for him was strapped across his back, and he sported far too many daggers on his belt. He reminded Stefan of a rat, with his narrow face and beady eyes that darted back and forth.
"Well, well, the little royals are awake!" Rat-face snapped. He whirled on Alemeth. "Get a move on! We don't have time to sit around eating your stinking stew! Grab the girl, and then you fulfill your end of the bargain."
Alemeth didn't like being ordered about by Rat-face; Stefan knew from the sour look on the foreigner's face that he'd like to squish the midget into a pancake.
He retreated into the cave, rattling pans and making such a loud noise packing up that Stefan wondered how the whole of Semora couldn't hear them. Rat-face marched around impatiently, barking orders at his cronies. "Pack that up!No, we don't need that awful stew, throw it out!"
When at last the cave was empty, Alemeth ducked into the thick trees beyond the cave and came back out with Atara, bound and gagged. Torin gasped.
Stefan bristled, clenching his fists. How dare they touch Atara! She didn't deserve this, after all she'd done for him and Torin. But he noticed that Alemeth didn't shove Atara, or handle her roughly. He let her walk over to the boys, with hardly a glare or a gruff word, as Stefan expected.
The three captives huddled in a clump, wary and watchful. Stefan struggled with the strip of cloth knotted around Atara's head. It finally came free, and Atara inhaled a long breath through her mouth. "Horrid," she managed with a grimace. "Tasted and smelled like a rancid compost pile."
She glanced sympathetically at the boys, taking in the sight of ropes around their wrists, their bloodied knees, and skinned arms. Torin couldn't seem to look Atara in the eye. Stefan watched him swallow several times in succession.
"On your feet!" They were jerked up by Rat-face's thugs and shoved farther into the forest. Moving at a pace so fast made for uneven balance, and Stefan lost his footing several times. At one point, Torin fell flat on his face, and when he was grabbed by one of the ruffians, his nose gushed blood. There was nothing he could do but walk on.
Alemeth followed at a distance, keeping a stern eye on the prisoners and Rat-face. To Stefan's bafflement, the only thing he carried was his axe. Where did all his pots and pans go? Surely he wouldn't have left them all in the cave.
Hours ticked by. Miles reached behind them. The long stretch of dense forest gave way to sparse trees and underbrush that scratched Stefan's ankles. He'd never been this far south of Semora. They followed a steep incline upward, the sky showing a dusky blue through the trees, and...
The men in front of them stopped short. When Stefan halted, he understood why.
They stood at the edge of a precipice, some one hundred feet over the Beryl Sea. A harsh wind whipped at their clothes and hair. Stefan's stomach churned. He could just barely see the white water foaming around the jagged rocks at the bottom. They weren't going to throw him and Torin and Atara over the cliff... were they?
"Where is it? You said it would be here!" Rat-face snapped at Alemeth, who had planted himself behind Atara.
"They will be."
A screech tore the air, and a flurry of wings erupted over the edge. The criminals scattered back in fright, tripping over each other. The massive thing was coming to rest on the brink of the cliff.
"What is that?" Stefan whispered in awe.
"It's a cryovon." Atara was just as much dumbstruck as he was. Her eyes filled with wonder. Alemeth glanced down at her, perhaps surprised she knew what the creature was called. The animal was now preening itself, seemingly unaware of the people surrounding it. Its tawny body and head resembled a lion, with huge paws and a long tail, but the tips of its ears were pointed, and enormous golden wings jutted from its sides, folded elegantly. Stefan wanted to reach out and touch it, but knew he would likely be rewarded with a snap from those huge jaws. White fangs like knives curved over the giant cat's muzzle.
Two more of the colossal cryovons lighted on the edge. Alemeth stepped forward, running his hands over their hides, to calm them, Stefan supposed. The hulking man was whispering to the animals, soothing them. Or convincing them.
After a few moments, Alemeth strode toward Atara, a strange look in his eyes. Stefan instinctively moved in front of her, but Alemeth bent down to his level. "I'm on your side, little prince."
He guided Atara to the nearest cryovon, which he called Fawnstep, grabbed Atara's waist, and lifted her onto Fawnstep's back. The female cryovon made a sound that Stefan would not have equated with lions, a low keen in the back of her throat that could have meant anything from displeasure to happiness.
Before Stefan knew it, Alemeth had seized him and Torin, one in each arm, and positioned them on a cocoa-colored cryovon named Romulus, within full reach of those gigantic wings. Stefan dared to poke them, and was shocked to find that the feathers, layered on top of each other like eagle's wings, were actually solid metal.
Rat-face had mounted behind Atara on Fawnstep, yanking her arms behind her and tying her wrists even tighter, without Alemeth seeing. Atara did not protest. The five thugs clambered on wherever there was room, grumbling about who would control the animal.
"No one controls a cryovon," Alemeth said sternly. "They listen only to themselves and their instincts."
Rat-face scowled, an ugly expression that made Stefan think he'd smelled raw sewage. "You'd better not double-cross me, you filthy Tisidon. Or I'll slit her throat." He jerked Atara's braid, making her gasp.
"You'll get what we agreed on." Alemeth's voice was level and calm.
He pulled himself up on Romulus behind the boys and yelled, a cawing cry that made the creatures begin beating their wings.
Soon, they were airborne. In all his life, Stefan would never do anything so wondrous. Flying was simply magical. He almost forgot they were captives, as they glided on the wind currents over the ocean. Fresh, salty air blew in his face.
In front of him, Torin covered his eyes and whimpered. "Is it over?" Torin hated heights.
Stefan suddenly realized that the sky had grown overcast. It was no longer a cheery blue, but gray and foreboding. In the west, the building clouds showed remains of a pink and gold sunset. Dusk was falling.
"We've been gone for hours," Stefan said over the loud wind. "Where are we going?"
"Well, I'm supposed to be taking you all to a slave auction in the Roben Islands. They're slave traders, you know." Alemeth sounded surprised that he didn't know this.
"But you can't do that!"
Alemeth squeezed Stefan's arm, hard enough to make him say "Ouch!" Fawnstep flew directly off of Romulus's left wingtip. Rat-face was glaring over at them, perhaps suspecting something.
"What do you think I'm trying to do, little prince?" Alemeth asked in a barely audible tone.
In the next breath, thunder rumbled, much closer than Stefan would have preferred.
"We're heading into a storm," Alemeth said worriedly, but Stefan saw him wink. He leaned over in Rat-face's vicinity, still gripping the boys. "We'll land on that ship down there that's bearing southwest. I chartered it to be at this spot before I left Tisidon."
Rat-face made a cut-throat gesture. Stefan didn't have to be a mind-reader to know what it meant.
The three cryovons and their riders swooped lower to the sea, making Stefan's head spin with the pressure. The closer they got to the ship, the more Stefan could make out the design. Interestingly, it looked like an Erestorian warship. It even had the royal sails on it, rich purple with a silver sun.
Wait a minute... Stefan knew that ship.
Suddenly, Rat-face yelled, "It's a trap!"
Before the puny ringleader even had time to whip out his dagger, Atara deliberately loosened her hold on Fawnstep. Her hands were still wrenched painfully behind her back. The next second, all Stefan could see was her body hurtling toward the angry water.
Sorry about the wait, I had trouble getting back to writing after the holidays ended, and then Wattpad started giving me fits :P
What did you guys think of Chapter Seven? Drop a vote if you liked it and share your comments... I'd love to hear from you!
Chapter Eight will go up on Saturday, January 27th :) Thanks so much for reading!