The moment Edith noticed the bars, she tried to move her hands only to realized they'd been secured with rope behind her back.
Had it been a year ago, the realization that she was imprisoned in a cage would've had panic setting in immediately. But now, she took a deep breath, reminding herself that teleporting out of there would be easy, and the only reason she didn't do so immediately were the other captives.
Had they been kidnapped? Taken hostage? Maybe I can help them escape.
With the thought in mind, Edith looked through the bars, but couldn't see far. It was night, and the light of a torch burning at the cage's door only illuminated the immediate area—a dirt path surrounded by tall trees. The Dok'aal can probably see everything, though.
Because there were only a few Dok'aal studying magic in Mystikkar, Edith knew little of their race besides the basic description; nocturnal demon-elf halfings with skin tones ranging from silvery gray to the darkest midnight. Most had snowy white hair, and all of them possessed glowing eyes in shades of every color.
She'd even wager the torchlight at the door was a bit much for them. But if they escaped, they could easily navigate their way in the dark.
Not that she had any idea who'd abducted them or where they were going. After another assessment of the situation, Edith realized something was strapped around her throat at the same time she saw collars on the other captive's necks.
A closer inspection revealed the collars sported runes—specifically, the type used to suppress magic.
Oh shit.
Immediately, Edith tried to let a little magical energy brim at her fingertips, but nothing happened. It was as if a barrier had separated her from the mystical energies she would've drawn on to cast spells.
Oh shit.
Now she was worried. Whoever had captured her obviously put those collars on all of their prisoners just in case they turned out to be mages or witches, severely limiting her options for gaining freedom.
As she had the thought, a rumbling voice came from the road behind her.
“Hey, the camp's right there, idiot!”
The driver drew the horses to a stop.
“What the hell?” he cussed. “I thought it was closer to the mire.”
“Moron,” the voice behind her muttered too lowly for the driver to hear, and Edith took a tentative look over her shoulder to see that her abductors weren't actually men, per say.
They were minotaurs.
All at once, everything came together—and Edith felt sick. Most minotaurs belonged to a grouping of clans a long ways from Nalona and Dra'Kai's temple. They rarely interacted with outsiders, content to keep to themselves. But many of those who didn't were pariahs, criminals spurned by their society who viewed outsiders as little more than property to be bought, sold, and used.
Considering Edith's current company of women, she knew exactly what these assholes had in store.
Still, it seemed she may be in luck. No sooner than she'd spied her captors did her Calling finally reveal the type of horn she needed—a minotaur's. No problem. I'll take their heads along with it.
If she could free herself.
The horses drawing the cage soon turned off the road and into the woods, moving at a leisurely pace that suggested the bulls weren't sensing any danger nearby. So wherever her friends were, it probably wasn't close enough for comfort. It was also possible the bull's were using some type of anti-tracking magic that would mask their movements from search parties trying to locate their hostages.
Topping things off, it was night, so Charlotte couldn't come in and teleport her out of there even if she knew where to go, meaning that for the time being, Edith was on her own.
Not the first time I've been alone, she thought in attempt to remain calm, and tested the binds on her hands to see how tight they were. Answer; too tight. She could barely move them, and her fingers were cold from the lack of circulation.
Ahead of the wagon came the dim light of a campfire where two more minotaurs waited. As they drew closer, one of them stood to approach, asking, “You found more females for the auction?”
Auction? Edith sneered, her ire rising when she noticed two elves strung up near the campfire. Calling or not, I'm smiting the hell out of these asswipes.
“Yeah, including this redheaded human,” the driver answered. “Found her washed up on the riverbank in bad shape, like she went over the falls. Gave her some healing tonic though, so she should be awake soon.”
That explained the lack of pain in her chest at least.
“Don't know where she's from?”
“No, but by the horned gods, she's got the sweetest tits and ass.”
A seedy chuckle sounded, and Edith was seeing red—also tasting bile.
The driver climbed down from the wagon and headed to the door, mentioning, “We should start with the Dok'aal.”
What does he mean start?
Whatever his intentions were, Edith's cellmates were glaring as the door opened and the minotaur reached a meaty hand inside to grasp one of their bound legs.
That's when Edith realized her own ankles were untied.
Such freedom was probably granted because she was mortal and not much of a threat. So, as the Dok'aal distracted the driver by scooting into the corner, she used it to her advantage.
Both women had pulled so far back that the bull had to stick his head partway inside to reach them, soon grasping one of their ankles. As the woman struggled against his grip, Edith took the chance to kick her leg out, aiming for the minotaur's red eye.
He might be too strong for a mortal to easily harm, but anyone would be properly shocked by such a blow, and thankfully, her aim proved true. Just as the bull pulled the woman forward, she nailed him, causing the bastard to reel back and release his target.
“Fuck! That human bitch nearly put my eye out!”
One of his friend's laughed. “That's why you check first, idiot.”
“I'm going to break her in hard,” he announced angrily.
“The hell you are! She might be a virgin.”
A disgruntled mutter came from the driver, who then growled, “We'll see.”
Knowing he was after her now, Edith quickly clasped the bars behind her, holding on so she could use her legs to kick the bastard again whenever he reached for her—which he did soon enough. As his hand came forward, she lifted her leg and slammed her boot down into it as hard as possible, but he caught hold of her ankle anyway.
The Dok'aal looked as if they wanted to help. But being more securely bound than Edith, there wasn't much either of them could do, and her grip on the bars soon failed against the minotaur's strength.
But as she was dragged toward the cage door, she managed to send the heel of her free boot sailing into his face.
Crack!
“My fucking nose!”
A round of laughter sounded from his comrades, one of them calling, “She's a feisty little bitch, huh?”
The bull glared at Edith, then jerked her out of the cage with far too much strength for her to have fought him off. Landing on the ground with a thud, the wind rushed from her lungs, and before she could recover it, the bastard grabbed her belt.
Her heart started pumping ice through her veins, struggling as fiercely as possible and readying to scream obscenities while twisting her hands in the rope—and one of the ties loosened.
Now all she had to do was work her hand through, remove her collar, and make every one of these bastards pay.
Yet, in her distraction, the bulls actually stopped, and Edith looked up to see that one of the other minotaurs had grabbed her assailant's shoulder, demanding, “Wait, look.”
Both bulls glanced in the same direction, and Edith craned her head to see what had drawn their attention. Her view was limited, but she could make out a single, shadowy figure coming over the hill about thirty feet away. It was too dark to make out their face or any other details, but the fiery eyes glowing in the darkness told her all she needed to know.
Isaac!
Edith had no idea why he was in Ithelyon, but she didn't give a damn in that moment. He was obviously looking for her, and she grinned at her captors.
“Is that a Perosian?” the bull perched above her asked.
“Yes it is,” she drew out smugly, “and you're in so much fucking trouble.”
“Why?”
Leaning up, she whispered ominously, “Because I'm his mate, shithead.”
All hell was about to break loose in the minotaur encampment—and Isaac was the one unleashing it.
Arias had delivered him to a location he said was near Edith's position, and the moment he arrived, he could hear a commotion coming from the woods with ease. Following the sound, he soon spied Edith, being trapped beneath a minotaur who was unfastening her belt—and rage as he'd never experienced overwhelmed him.
Isaac fully embraced it.
Without pause for thought, he teleported toward the bull on top of his mate, slamming his boot into the bastard's head so hard he went flying ten feet backwards, dead before hitting the ground.
Isaac then grabbed Edith and teleported her to a nearby tree just to get her out of harm's way before turning his fiery gaze on the rest of them.
“That's my brother!” one of the bulls roared in anger.
Grabbing an ax to lift above his head, he went barreling toward Isaac. Another joined him in the charge, two seven foot tall giants with murder in their red eyes rushing forward with thunderous footfalls.
And Isaac rushed them right back.
The movement seemed to catch them off guard, as if these minotaurs were used to targets who fled in the opposite direction. Too fucking bad.
When the first hesitated, trying to change his tactics, Isaac slammed his shoulder into his gut, knocking him over. The blow loosened his enemy's grip on the ax, and he quickly moved to wrench the weapon from his grasp, then turned, swinging low.
As a result, the blade embedded itself in the second minotaur's groin.
Immediately, the bull fell to his knees, blood gushing as he dropped his own weapon, which Isaac caught before it hit the ground.
The last of their group was now trying to escape, running from the scene as if he couldn't retreat fast enough. Without breaking a sweat, Isaac raised the heavy blade he'd just caught and slung it toward him.
Flying through the air, the ax found its way right into the male's back with enough force to knock him several feet forward.
With all but one of the minotaurs dead or dying, Isaac took a single moment to turn and slam his boot into the remaining enemy's head hard enough to knock him unconscious, then teleported to Edith.
By then, she'd managed to free her hands, and was removing the collar around her neck when he asked, “Are you okay?”
“How did you get here?” she inquired simultaneously.
“Long story,” he answered, taking her cheeks to inspect the gash on her left temple—which looked to be healing up even though it couldn't be that old. “What's this?”
“I don't know. I was on a barge with Ulric and Charlotte, and we had some trouble. Let's just say I fell overboard, got knocked out and woke in that cage. The minotaurs thought I was in bad shape, so they gave me some kind of healing tonic.”
Isaac's rage was renewed with the thought of why they'd give her such a thing. But he was completely distracted from it when Edith leaned up and kissed him, a kiss he returned without hesitation, relieved just to be near her again.
And damned if it didn't feel better than he'd expected.
But sadly, he didn't trust their surroundings well enough to spend as much time on their reunion as he would've liked, breaking the kiss to make certain the single minotaur who hadn't been mortally injured was still unconscious.
Once he realized the bull was out, he asked Edith menacingly, “Should I torture him?”
She glanced down at the creature, then smirked. “Actually, I have a better idea. But first, get one of their horns. I need it for my staff.”
“With pleasure,” he grinned.
Grabbing the ax still embedded in the minotaur's groin, he jerked it out, ignoring the male's roar of pain while utilizing the weapon to cut his horn off with a swift chop.
Handing it over to Edith, she stored the item in her cache, then headed for the cage to free the two Dok'aal inside.
While untying their hands and removing their collars, she asked, “So how would you guys like to have a slave of your very own?”
There was no mistaking the women's looks of interest over the prospect. Obviously, they'd like nothing more than to give as good as they'd gotten, and Isaac smirked, deciding to secure the unconscious bull to be carted away by his former prisoners in his own cell.
As he worked, he wondered how the Dok'aal had been captured from the start. Their kind rarely traveled to Terra, so he hadn't encountered many before, but knew they were related to Perosian demons and didn't make easy targets.
But whatever their story happened to be, the one with long, curly hair and glowing red eyes gave Edith an introduction.
“I'm Asasha, and this is my sister, Briye. You have our thanks.”
“No trouble. Do you need help getting anywhere? Especially with him,” Edith jerked her thumb in the direction of the bull Isaac had just finished binding and gagging.
“No, we're not actually … ,” Asasha trailed as Isaac stood and came closer, staring at him while absently adding, “far from where we need to be.”
Edith glanced between them, quirking a brow. “What's wrong?”
Isaac thought her reaction was strange as well, but Asasha only shook her head in response. “Nothing. Let's free these elves and move on before anyone else shows up.”
Edith didn't hesitate to do just that, asking on the way, “There's more minotaurs?”
“Yes. Two others were traveling with the wagon, and parted to hunt for food before you woke.”
“So?” Isaac asked, relating seriously, “They come back, and I'll kill them.”
“Maybe, but it's easier to vacate the area,” Asasha remarked, helping Edith to cut the elves free.
Isaac decided to use that time to load the captive minotaur into the cage, mentioning to Asasha in the meantime, “I'm surprised you'd give a damn about helping elves. I thought Dok'aal don't get along with them.”
“Typically, we don't get along with Perosians either,” she retorted. “But the conflict is more complicated than that. Besides, we're united on this front.”
“Why don't you get along with Perosians?”
Briye gave a look that suggested the question was extremely strange. “What do you mean, why? Your kind—”
“Briye,” Asasha interrupted. “Now isn't the time. Let's just get out of here.”
Her sister sighed, but didn't say another word.
As the Dok'aal got the elves to the wagon, Edith made sure to load the only crate containing food available onto their transport, asking, “Are you sure we can't help?”
Asasha smirked in her direction. “You've already helped more than you know. But I failed to get your names.”
Isaac shook his head. “Our names don't matter. Just get going.”
Edith gave him a questioning look while Asasha conceded, “As you wish. Thank you again. We won't forget this.”
Taking the reigns, she got the wagon underway. Once they were out of earshot, Edith asked, “Why didn't you give them our names? And what are you doing here anyway?”
“Dok'aal are related to Perosian demons, so we can't be sure they have no ties with Rothario,” Isaac explained. “As for how I got here, let's just say I destroyed my summoning crystal, and save the rest for after we get back to Charlotte and Ulric. They're probably worried about you anyway.”
“True,” she nodded in agreement. “Do you know where—”
An arrow whistling through the air cut her off just seconds before pain shot through Isaac's right arm. Growling, he looked toward the trees to see the two minotaurs Asasha s
poke of coming through them, their bows still poised from firing.
Isaac nearly took off after them, but the sound of a heavy thud caught his attention. Looking ahead again, he noticed Edith had just fallen to her knees—with an arrow jutting from her neck.
Time came to a stop, and Isaac wasn't sure he knew what was happening, even as he roared, “FUCK NO!”
Quickly kneeling down, he ignored the pain of another arrow sailing into his hip while grabbing his mate before she fell over completely.
Edith parted her lips, but couldn't respond, blood bubbling forth when she tried. Dimly, he realized it was choking her, and she'd suffocate long before she bled out.
Another arrow slammed into Isaac's back so deeply the tip erupted from his upper chest, but the only pain he felt was the fearful agony gripping his heart. What the fuck do I do! Can't think!
Mere seconds seemed like hours, and the only thing that came to mind was Charlotte. The sun fae could heal Edith before she strangled, and Ulric had promised to keep his tracking medallion handy to allow Isaac to locate him in Ithelyon if the need arose.
So Isaac focused on the medallion, soon sensing it like a mark in his mind—and it was too far away to teleport to safely in a single jump.
Like I give a fuck.
He'd get Edith to Charlotte, or die trying, and only hoped Ulric had his mate close when he disappeared from the encampment.
During his teleport, Isaac soon felt the mute objecting, scalding his entire body. His skin started burning away in transit, but he forced himself to continue until he met the mark he could so clearly sense, and finally found solid ground beneath his feet.
Materializing in an unknown place with his entire body covered by severe burns, Isaac fell over, unable to move or even distinguish what hurt the worst. Consciousness was fleeting—but he did hear Ulric's heated voice being interrupted by Charlotte's cry of their names.
So, using his last bit of strength to push himself off of Edith, he just managed to get out three words before falling unconscious.
“Fucking fix her!”
The Final Calling Page 18
