A slow rocking brings me out of the land of oblivion and I open my eyes, groggy and full of thirst. I don't know how much time has gone by when I awaken, but judging on the stiffness in my body and how the evening rays of the sun are slanting through whatever forest we are in, I'd have to guess it's been almost a day.
Blinking, I take in my surroundings, disoriented but recovering. Iron encages me and it takes me a moment to realize I'm in a large cage attached to a wooden cart. Five men ride on horses behind us with bored expressions on their faces and from the sound of it, more ride ahead.
It is then when I recollect the previous night's events and my body freezes, cold with fear of what is to come next. Something is in my mouth that tastes foul and when I go to remove the gag I realize then that both my hands and feet are bound with my hands being behind my back. Looking around, I see that I am one of the last to wake up save for Amiri who is passed out cold towards the front of the cage. Laria leans her back against the left while Crispin sits upright, resting his forehead on his knee. His shoulders sag and he sways freely with each bump of the wagon, exhausted and defeated.
Few things make little sense at the moment, but what I do know is that last night we were somehow drugged, taken, and are now captives.
I catch Laria's eye and try my best to shrug, silently asking her what is going on but she too is gagged so she only shakes her head before closing her blue eyes.
It is then when I find myself annoyed—not at her of course, but at the situation in its entirety. Why us? Surely it has nothing to do with the man I stole a few coins off of, he was far too much of an imbecile to orchestrate such a task. So who are they then? And why drug then wait to capture us? Why not attempt to overpower us when we left the confines of Farnmoss? Do they know who we are or do they only know of who we proclaimed to be? Where are we going? What do they plan to do?
Grunting as much as the gag allowed, I lean backwards and begin to kick the iron bars in hopes that it will get their attention and with any luck some answers. Crispin jolts up and looks at me, seeming somewhat surprised that I'm awake. He attempts to say something to me but it's muffled when one of the men on a horse behind us speaks up.
"Oi! I thought I told you to stop that! One more time and one of you lot loses a finger," he barks. His hair—once a deep chocolate—is now dull and starting to show the signs of age as grey creeps into his hairline. His sports chops, leaving his chin bare of hair and his nose is large and crooked.
Not wanting to call his bluff, I sigh and sit back up, remaining silent, understanding the sullen attitudes of my friends. For the time being, we are utterly powerless and can do nothing.
About half and hour or so go by when whoever drives the carriage pulls the reins and we stop at a very small clearing in the woods. There are still trees scattered here and there and pine needles cover the forest floor and I have a feeling they will make camp for the night.
Amiri is still out cold, so Crispin, Laria, and I watch a total of ten men unpack their items and form a makeshift encampment. It's the first time I am able to get a good look at them as well. Most seem to be in their mid-thirties, with one possibly nearing fifty. Some are remarkable, with swollen muscles and deadly looking swords attached to the hip while others seem average.
A horse neighs to my far left and I realize that not only have they stolen us but our horses as well.
A large bonfire is made and ten canvas tents are pitched in random places throughout the encampment. A line is strung between two trees and I assume it is for stringing up any game they might find on their hunt. Four split off with bows and arrows while the others lounge around the fire and begin to cook various items of food—most of it belonging to us. I see my bag of sweets has already been devoured with only a few lemon drops remaining.
All in all, the sight infuriates me and I have to remind myself that whatever these men want—whether it is our horses, belongings, or food—doesn't matter. They have through a lot of trouble to already take what is most valuable to them, leaving it bound in an iron cage.
More time passes leaving me with nothing to do but think and sort through unanswered questions. The hunters return with a medium buck and two begin to skin it when the others make their way over to us.
"Get them out and put them on their knees," one demands who I assume to be the leader of this band of brutes. He has fair hair—so blonde it's almost white—that is kept long on one side while the other half of his head is shaved closely to his scalp, revealing intricate tattoos that have faded with time. His nose is hooked and he is quite tall and skinny, with round wide eyes that are somewhat frightening.
When the back of the cage opens, the reach for Laria who head butts the closest man near to her, sending him fumbling backwards crying out about his nose. Taking no more chances, four more surge onto her and with great effort they are able to get her out of the cage. Striking her once in the face with the back of his hand, the largest one of the group—the red headed one from the night before—holds a knife to her throat after cutting the rope around her feet. He whispers something in her ear and her face twists up but she stays still.
Considering I'm the closest one to the rear, I'm next. I know I can't put up much of a fight and seeing as they could care less about beating a woman, I don't test my luck. I allow them to slide me across the rough wood, cut the bounds around my ankles, and stumble forward once my feet hit the ground. I am then shoved to the right where Laria is and someone puts a hand on my shoulder, forcing me onto my knees.
Crispin is next, and I'm surprised that he attempts to put up a fight as well—but still, I commend him for his efforts. Bringing his feet back, he kicks a stout brunette square in the face, causing him to fall backwards into his comrades. Growling, the lunges forward, snatches Crispin by his collar, balls his hand into a fist and brings it down three times into his face, returning the favor. I wince but cannot tear my eyes away.
Crispin's nose now flows freely with blood, his lower lip split open. Surely he had to know that if Laria couldn't get the upper hand then he didn't stand a chance, so why risk a beating? Perhaps he sought revenge of sorts, no matter how small? Regardless of his reasoning, I make sure to give him a nod of approval when he is placed next to me on his knees.
Lastly there is Amiri who has finally begun to stir in the wagon. Right when he opens his eyes and sits up, cradling his head, he is dragged out tossed out onto the ground. They then pull him out and shove him down on the other side of Crispin. Blinking hard, he gives us a disordered yet panicked look and I realize that he had fallen asleep by the fire last night only to wake up as a captive.
The blonde man smirks and pulls up a stool before plopping down about ten feet in front of us while the other men form a circle, surrounding us completely. "Before we begin, I'm going to take these gags out and explain a few things as to why you are here. I will do the talking first and you will sit and listen. Only after I am done you may speak. Nod your head if you understand," he says and we do.
Someone from behind me takes my gag out and I want nothing more to call them every curse word that comes to mind, but I have more sense than that so I stay quiet. Thankfully, the others do as well.
"I'll give you the rundown of what is going on here because I know you will have questions as I you. I expect you four to listen silently and when I'm done, you may speak," he begins in a strange accent I cannot place. He leans forward, adjusting himself in his trousers and sniffs, clearing up his sinuses and spits the glob of mucus to his right.
"Before we start, let me begin with letting you know we aren't a forgiving group of men. If you try to cross us your guts will be the last thing you see before you die," he says and I have no doubt in my mind he is telling the truth. "Secondly, as I mentioned, we're men. Men who love women to be more exact," he says, glancing at Laria and myself. "Any funny business from you two and I won't stop anyone from screwing you before we off you, so if you value your overall well-being, do as we say. Don't think that just because you are women we are above taking your lives."
"You dare try anything with Cora or I and you'll die before you can pull out your prepubescent cocks," Laria growls. Surprisingly, instead of another blow to the face this only earns her a roar of laughter. Still, the respect I have for her grows for sticking up for us.
Jasper waves his hand, calming the brutes down and he continues his spiel. "You're probably wondering what's going on. Well, your little friend over here, the Acadian, bought a bottle off a good friend of mine yesterday morning that was spiked. I pay him off every month or so when me and my men are in town to catch fools such as yourselves," he says, pointing at us with is hands.
"This brings me to my next point. You are also probably wondering why we've abducted you, snatching you from your routine lives," he says, a grin forming on his hardened face, "You four lucky souls will be sold in Rorik to be slaves. Many people are unaware of the slaving business that still takes place, but Rorik is in high demand of fresh meat," he explains offering a simply shrug. "Now, I get paid for live people that are still able to provide work or services and if I have to remove a few digits or two to teach you a lesson I will," he says.
Shaking my head, I try to process his words. For starters, apparently the whole reason of our abduction is to be sold as slaves—a practice that had been abandoned over a half a millennia ago. Sure there were the occasional rumor whispered on the streets about it still happening in some of the less advanced realms, but I always assumed them to be just that—rumors. They very thought of a human believing they can own another is so appalling it's downright despicable.
And we are to be slaves? In Rorik no less? This is both a blessing and a curse as Rose is already in Rorik which makes our job infiltrating the grounds that much easier. On the other hand, if we are unable to escape our captors, our lives will forever be nothing but bondage.
As he introduces himself—apparently his name is Jasper—he then runs down how many days it will take us to reach our destination and goes over small rules, I begin to formulate a plan. If we play our cards right it just might work and I make a mental note to tell the others when the time comes.
He then claps once, drawing me from my thoughts and I look up. "So that's that," he says, nodding towards Crispin. "I'll start with you pretty boy. Word has it that you lot were trying to find a place to call home. Is this true?"
Crispin purses licks the blood away from his full lips before answering. "Yes, we-" he begins but Jasper backhands him, silencing Crispin.
"Don't lie to me boy," he says, looking behind us to one of his men. He then waves him forward with the "come hither" motion and a man steps around Laria, a smirk on his face. He's familiar and it takes me a few seconds to decipher through my foggy mind where I know him from, but the scowl on his face is unforgettable. He's the man from the Sloppy Pig tavern that was suspicious of how we made our earnings. I can't help the frown that forms on my face, knowing that we have been had.
"I believe you know Lyal here?" Jasper says, motioning to the man to his right. I see Crispin look at him before realization flashes across his face, then gives a nod. Jasper continues, "He's been running with us for almost a year now and has a keen sense on those that are lying. He said he watched the four of you spend a pretty amount of coin yesterday only to claim that you make your wealth from thieving and fighting. He claims the girl proved herself but given the appearance of the rest of you, I can't really see you three brawling."
Now that he says this, I have to admit I can see where he is coming from. Crispin's face is too pretty to be someone who is constantly in a ring fighting. It lacks bruises, old scars from previous wounds, and his nose is perfectly straight showing no signs that it has ever been broken. Amiri on the other hand could possibly pass as a perpetual fighter, but any signs of injuries have long since healed from his past and he is too lean to be a consistent victor. Then there is Laria. Yes she has the size of a conceivable brawler, but being a woman makes the chances extremely rare as most men refuse to fight a woman.
"So, I ask you again. Word has it that you lot were trying to find a place to call home. Is this true?" Jasper asks, folding his arms over his chest.
Crispin clenches his jaw and gives a curt nod. "It is," he lies.
My brows furrow, wondering why he refuses to tell the truth. In doing so would surely guarantee that his life stays intact. The only logical explanation of this is that he too has realized that his best chances at this point in saving his sister is getting into Rorik. There is also a good possibility that if they find out that he is attempting to free their most prized prisoner—and being her brother, a prince no less—would undoubtedly put an abrupt end to our mission.
Jasper frowns and takes a seat back on his stool, leaning forward. "Is that so?" he questions. "Because while rummaging through your things, we found items that would say otherwise. Tell me, why would a band of thieves and...whatever else you lot proclaim to be, have pouches of gold, fine weaponry and armor, and a blade from a royal guard of Paevia?"
Shit. I hadn't thought of that either. Crispin's sword had his kingdom's sigil engraved in the hilt.
Crispin remains silent and only looks at the ground, refusing to answer. Jasper then tilts his head and shrugs, done with his questioning. "Suit yourself. Hang 'em," he says nonchalantly and stands up to stretch.
My eyes snap open as I watch four men enclose on Crispin, dragging him over to a nearby tree as another tosses a rope over a branch. The whole thing seems well practiced and I wonder just how many times they have resulted to this in the past with other captives.
There is an inkling that Jasper is bluffing so I remain silent and watch the events unfold as the men begin to tie the noose. Crispin stands there with an indifferent look on his face, never breaking eye contact with Jasper. Behind Laria, Amiri and I, there is still three men that guard us, their heavy hands on our shoulders keeping us in place.
Jasper then steps toward him, placing his hands behind his back which somewhat mirrors Crispin's position given that we are all still bound. Lyal then slips the rope over his neck while the other men grip the ropes length, ready to hoist him into the air. "This is your last chance. Care to tell me the truth this time?" he asks him in a low and dangerous voice.
Crispin glares at him before looking at as and shakes his head ever so slightly, silently telling us to both do and say nothing. "He can't be serious, can he?" I think. Is he really going to just accept his death so easily?
Jasper then sighs and begins to pace back and forth. "So be it. You can't say I didn't give you the chance, you would have gotten me a pretty price at the slavers market. 'Tis a shame," he says wistfully. He then gives the men a nod and they grip the rope before quickly walk backwards, pulling Crispin up into the air. His feet dangles freely as he kicks in a panic while a horrible gurgling noise begins to escape from his throat as his air supply is cut off.
I lurch forward but am snatched back by my hair, too focused on the sight before me to feel the pain. "Stop!" I cry out with wide eyes, "Let him go!"
I hear a few deep grumbles as some of the brutes laugh at me, finding amusement in my panic. Anger boils inside but I continue with my protests. "Let him go!" I shout as Crispin's beautiful face begins to turn blue.
Seconds pass by and I shake my head in horror. "Please! Let him go and I'll tell you everything, I promise!" I yell again.
Jasper whips around, smirking as if he knew that Crispin had withheld information. Thinking it over, he waves at the men with the rope. They instantly let go and Crispin crashes to the ground in a heap, gasping for air and coughing.
Laria and Amiri look at me, both confusion and betrayal on their faces. Surely they would have done the same, wouldn't they? Or did they plan to sit by and watch their friend be hung merely twenty feet before them?
Jasper then stomps towards me and yanks me up by my shirt. In one swift motion, he pulls a knife from his waistline and presses it to my throat. I feel a sharp pinch of pain and then a trickle of warm liquid as the silver slices into my skin. "You have one chance to tell me everything or you'll be strung up along with him," he growls.
His wide eyes are turn to slits and I can see a vein in his temple pulse as his blood rushes through his body. Thinking quickly, I nod my head. "Those weapons came from a guard in Paevia. I was in prison for killing a baron and managed to escape. I needed a place to hide so I took refuge into a house and that's when I met him," I say, looking at Crispin who still struggles to catch his breath.
I then return my gaze to Jasper and continue to feed my lie, "He was some highborn's nephew that was looking for an adventure, tired of the mundane life he's always lived or something along those lines—he didn't really go into much detail. I promised him if he smuggled me out of the city I'd show him my way of life and teach him what I could. The Paevian sword belongs to him. We met the other two in Ipswitch at a tavern who were drifters. We hit it off and realized we could make a fortune if we stuck together so we have ever since."
Jasper narrows his eyes, still skeptical of my story. "That still doesn't explain how the four of you have so much coin," he states, pressing the blade closer to my skin.
"I told you already!" I exclaim, "I'm a thief, your man has witnessed it himself. The rest comes from gambling. That's the whole truth, I swear!" I say, managing to gather a few tears. I'm not sure where they come from—most likely from the buildup of the last 24 hours—but they seem to do the trick as Jasper chuckles and releases his hold on me.
"Is she that good Lyal?" he asks, turning to him who is removing the rope around Crispin's neck.
He shrugs, "I suppose. I gave her five minutes to prove herself and she returned with fifty shillings. I did hear that some high-end Barron in Paevia was killed not too long ago by a woman as well. Must be at least some truth to her story," he says, finally releasing Crispin.
Jasper nods and turns back to face me, looking me up and down. "Well let's just hope for your sake that it's the whole truth," he says. He then lets me go and instructs for some of his men to give us bathroom breaks and suppper before he takes his place on his stool by the fire, warning us not to try anything if we value our lives.
A brawny brunette with dreadlocks grips my arm and the four of us are led in opposite directions into the woods within seeing distance of the encampment.
"This is far enough," he mutters and leans against a tree.
I frown and look behind me, making sure no one else can see. "Can you at least turn around?" I ask, hoping that he has even a sliver of decency left. He must, because after giving me an eye roll he turns his back to me and I relieve myself.
When I'm done, he takes me back to the camp and loads me into the cart with the others, making sure to lock the cage behind him. We are then brought dinner—some sort of stringy meat—and I scarf it down, realizing I hadn't eaten anything in almost a day.
"Can you believe this?" Amiri mutters, glaring at the men that surround the fire. "Us? Taken?" he continues, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Are you okay?" I ask, turning to Crispin. His neck is red and angry looking and I'm pretty sure by tomorrow there will be bruising.
He nods and wipes his mouth on his shoulder given that our hands are still bound. "Yeah. Thanks for saving me," he says, looking at me with those emerald eyes of his. "You could have just let them kill me though. If they find out you lied to them..." he trails, giving his head a shake as he imagines the punishments that would ensue.
He is right, of course. If they were willing to hang him for simply believing that he was withholding information, what they would do if they found out I purposefully lied to their face? Surely death, and it would most likely be more slow and painful than a quick lynching.
"We need to come up with an escape plan," Laria says in a low voice. "If we can get our hands on weapons we could surely fight our way out."
I shake my head quickly, "I think our best shot of getting into Rorik is to play our roles as captives. Jasper said it'll take us a week or two to get there. Once in the city, if we play our cards right, we can hopefully manage an escape and grab Rose in the process before hightailing it out of there."
Crispin nods, "She's right. I can't think of an easier way of getting past the outposts and scouts," he agrees.
Laria looks at Amiri with concerned eyes. "I don't know..." she trails, "If we aren't able to escape before being sold, our chances of rescuing Rose and making it out of the city alive is slim to nothing."
What she says is also true. If we are sold, there is no telling what will happen after the fact. I imagine we will either be locked away in some sort of slave quarters or perhaps even with our owner and will never be out of a guard's sight again.
"Perhaps there is another way," Amiri suggests, leaning in closely. Looking over his shoulder, he begins lowers his voice. "Say we get our hands on weapons and kill these men. One of us can then portray themselves as a slaver and ride freely into Rorik while the three of us stay in the cart. In-between the last outpost and the city, we ditch the cart and slip into the city at night unnoticed and save Rose."
This too is a good idea, but it still poses the threat of certain death if we are unable to kill them all off. The odds are ten-to-four—three really as I will hardly be of any help—but then again we do have an assassin and bodyguard on our side. If the tales of their skills are true, I have an inkling that really, we only need one of them.
Crispin nods, accepting the suggestion. "Let's just see how the next few days go and perhaps we can decide then. We need to feel these men out; watch how they work, how they move, and what their weaknesses are."
"I personally like the idea of slitting their throats," Laria says, "but we may wait."
"Oi! Shut it in there before I come over and cut out your tongues!" a man then suddenly yells, tossing his empty bowl at us. It hits the cage with a loud thud and falls onto the ground.
"If that ends up being our choice, he's mine," Amiri growls, his hatred all but radiating from him.
"I claim Jasper," Crispin adds, glaring at the man across the fire.
For the remainder of the evening, we try our best to get comfortable in the wagon. The wood is sticky from whatever was in here before us and as the night creeps in, a chill lingers in the air that gradually drops. Curling into a ball, I try my best to go to sleep but it's no use.
By the time the slavers go to bed, I'm shivering. Crispin lays behind me and before me is Laria and Amiri, who have taken to spooning to keep warm. I'd suggest the notion myself if I wasn't so damned prideful so I remain silent and try to push through.
Time passes slowly and my body quakes once again in an attempt to keep warm. Crispin can no longer bare it—either the cold temperature or my shivering that shakes the cart—and snakes a strong arm around me, pulling me towards his chest. My eyes snap open but I say nothing. Gradually, I relax and close them once again.
Heat radiates from every inch of him as if he is my own personal hearth. I also can't overlook just how much I enjoy how his body feels pressed against mine. Hoping he wouldn't notice, I nudge backwards ever so slightly and I realize that it's not only the heat from him that I enjoy. His body—though exhausted and battered from the day's events—feels strong and toned. With each intake of air, his stomach presses into my back, and with each exhale his breath tickles my neck, sending shivers up my spine that I hope he assumes is from the low temperature.
Reluctantly, I force any and all thoughts of our closeness out of my head and try to focus on controlling my breathing. Eventually, I begin to warm up and the shivering ceases. Soon, I'm able to drift off to sleep.
A/N: Sorry if any of the language I used was a turn-off for you in reading this book/chapter. Other than that I hope you enjoyed it!