by Guy Antibes
Trak tried to keep an eye on Tembul as they made their way through the dirt. He didn’t look very good with blood and dirt covering his chest. Trak had no idea how badly the dogs had chewed up his chest and would have to work on his friend once they were left alone in their cell.
The cells were built on a foot-high foundation of mortared rock, and Tembul had enough strength to lift his head as the guards dragged him up on the raised portion and into the cell. The guards put Trak in the cell last and shut the bar door, locking it with a padlock of unusual design to Trak.
He looked back at the retreating guards before he worked his way over to Tembul. Struggling to a sitting position, he surveyed the damage. The front of Tembul’s shirt had been ripped to shreds. Trak noticed claw marks, as well as a few gashes from the canine’s teeth.
“It looks pretty bad,” Sirul said.
Tembul managed a grim smile. “It feels worse than it looks,” he said, and then moaned a bit before closing his eyes.
“I’ll close the wounds,” Trak said. He used his teeth to pull the shirt apart, exposing the ripped flesh, and then he pictured the healing pose in his mind. He visualized healing beams from his eyes as his vision focused on each portion of Tembul’s injuries.
Tembul moaned again as Trak could see the wounds closing up. Tembul’s chest still looked like angry red flesh churned up by the dogs, but the worst of the bleeding had stopped, and Trak could barely detect the smell of charred flesh that the spell had caused to bind the wounds. His chest didn’t looked burned, but Trak had never done much healing.
He leaned over to inspect his handiwork. “Do you feel any better?”
“That is a relative term, and I can’t tell you if I feel better. I don’t feel like I’m dying anymore. If that is better, then I do.” Tembul paused for a moment, and then said, “How did you do that? I don’t know of any poses close to what you used.”
Trak turned up a corner of his lips. “It is poseless magic, and we will escape from here using it, if we have to.”
Sirul’s mouth dropped open. “Poseless? Impossible, there isn’t such a thing. Trying to do spells without poses will get you killed.”
“Does he look dead?” Tembul said. “How did you think of doing that?”
Trak smiled. “Jojo knows a few spells that he can do without posing, but I’ve been able to take it to another level. It’s not easy to learn, but I’ll teach it to you if we ever get out.”
Sirul shook his head. “I still don’t believe it.”
Tembul struggled to a sitting position. “I wondered how you thought you would get us through a wall being trussed up.”
Trak nodded. “Don’t worry. We’ve been practicing for weeks.”
“I can’t wait for you to teach me,” Tembul said.
“Once you are healed. It is still dangerous if you can’t concentrate properly.”
Tembul struggled to a sitting position against the stone wall. “Your ankle still hurts.”
Trak made a face that meant to discount what Tembul said. “I’ve had lots of time spent developing my own technique.”
“Are you stronger than Jojo?” Sirul said. “Maybe we can just escape without him.”
Trak looked over at him. “I am certain that I am, but that doesn’t mean anything at this point. We have to get out of here and into the capital before we can think about anything else. Jojo knows Beniko, and none of us do. Neither of us looks Benninese, so whoever looks for two Toryans and a Pestlan won’t have to search very long. We will just follow until we have to part ways. Agreed?”
Tembul nodded. “As if we have any good alternatives. Jojo was right about the wagon lopping off a lot of time from our journey. I’m not sure the cost was worth it.” He looked down at his still-bloody chest. “Tonight and then tomorrow night.”
Trak sat back and wondered what the next two days held. He still didn’t know when Jojo would act.
“Food,” a guard said, standing in front of their iron bar door.
They had no real privacy in their cell and Trak wondered what the guards would have made of his healing act with Tembul. The door didn’t reach to the floor of the cell and the guard slipped three wooden trays under the bars.
“No utensils?” Sirul asked.
“You’re wearing them.” The guard leered at them and waved his fingers as he motioned for another guard to roll a trolley filled with trays along the raised stone walkway.
Sirul slid across the floor of the cell and stared at the food. “I can’t use my arms well enough.”
Trak closed his eyes and used magic to release the catch on one of the arms of their harnesses. “Is that better?”
Sirul nodded.
“Be careful that the guards don’t see that,” Tembul warned. Trak heard the wheels of another cart squeaking as it made its way close to them.
They all put their arms to their side as a guard slipped low bowls of water underneath the iron bars. The guard looked at Tembul’s bloody chest and slid another larger bowl over to their side. “Use it to clean the wounds. Looks like they’re closing up. You’re lucky, Toryan. The last man to get the dogs didn’t last through the night.”
The man walked past their door.
“An act of kindness,” Trak said. “I’ll bet that’s rare enough here.”
Sirul took his bowl and emptied it. “The country isn’t totally filled with nasty people.”
That comment made Trak wonder. He looked at the fourth bowl that the guard had given them. He leaned over and sniffed the water and then did the same for his own drink. “They’ve put something in that water,” he said. Trak concentrated on the water and used his power to let it boil for a while. “That might take care of whatever the guards put in the water.”
“I take back my comment,” Sirul said, staring at the steaming bowl. “It really did have something in it?”
Trak nodded. “I’m sure it did.”
~
Clanging woke Trak up in the darkness. Guards walked across the different buildings in the compound pounding spoons on pans.
“Time for the count!” a guard announced to the entire camp.
Trak had no idea what the ‘count’ was.
A guard walked by with a lantern and peered into the cell. “There you are.” He looked at Tembul. “You okay, Toryan?”
“He had a fever earlier tonight, but it seems to have gone down,” Trak said. “What is the ‘count’?
“Two hours after midnight we make sure than none of you have escaped." The guard laughed. “As if…” He continued on his rounds.
Tembul looked at Trak. “Jojo’s instructions seem to have just become more credible,” Tembul said.
~
After a breakfast of gruel, the three of them were dragged out of their cells. Trak hoped that the others wouldn’t let their arms slip out of their harnesses. He looked over at Jojo’s building and saw the four Benninese already on the ground in front of their cell.
“Time for a little welcome,” the same officer that called the dogs on Tembul said, standing over Jojo with four other guards. “If you think your past life would get you special treatment, think again.” He kicked Jojo in the ribs. The other guards began to kick the men and beat them with long sticks about an inch thick.
When they were done with those four, the guards walked over to Trak’s group.
‘You’re a strong one,” the officer said to Tembul. The man kicked Tembul on his back and ground his foot into Tembul’s chest. Wounds or not, Trak expected Tembul to scream, but the Toryan merely grunted with each kick until the guards began to rain blows down on all of them.
“You all find a way to slither into your holes. If you aren’t back into your cages in fifteen minutes, I’ll give you some more love.”
Trak wondered how much of the guard’s words Sirul understood. Despite months in the prison, he had had the hardest time with the Benninese language, but Trak repeated what the guard had said. Tembul’s chest looked like the dogs had chewed it up
again. A few wounds in his chest had opened up again, or they were new. Trak’s left eye had nearly swollen shut, but he rolled over to Tembul and helped the man work his way back into the cell. None of them wanted to risk another beating.
Once inside, Trak worked on Tembul and Sirul for a bit. He looked out at the bare dirt of the compound and didn’t see any more beatings. He hoped that wouldn’t happen any more that day. It would be hard enough with their current injuries to flee quickly.
Trak rubbed his ankle and got up to walk around. “That helps,” he said, even though all he could do was hobble. If he loosened the harness any more, he wouldn’t be able to cinch it up during inspection. All three of them ended up shuffling around their tiny cell to make sure they could run when they escaped.
~
Guards woke up the compound for the counting on the second night. The tension in the cell increased when the guard woke them up. “You three are resilient enough. Just wait for tomorrow.” He laughed and said much the same thing to the next cell. No one received a beating out in the yard.
The camp settled down after the guards left their building. As soon as the lights went out, Trak removed his shackles and those of his friends. “It’s time to say goodbye to this place,” he said. “Watch this, if you can.”
The moon let in a little light through the iron bars, but it was enough for Trak to turn the mortar to dust without a pose. The three of them mounded the sandy material to mimic sleeping figures and slipped into the night, after piling the rocks back up. Any guards checking on them might not notice anything had happened.
Trak noticed movement to his left and saw four figures pressed against the wall, not far from the buildings. He motioned Tembul and Sirul to follow him. There wasn’t enough room between the buildings and the wall to strike a proper pose.
Jojo struggled to break through the back wall, but obviously failed. He looked at Trak. “Can you?”
Trak nodded and closed his eyes. He created a hole just large enough for the men to crawl through.
“Move the sand inside the wall, so the guards won’t see it when they look out into the jungle,” Jojo said as they clustered at the opening, throwing handfuls of deconstructed stone blocks back into the prison. “Now follow me.”
The six men crept through the grassy field that surrounded the prison and into the jungle. They hadn’t gone far before Trak noticed Jojo making a tiny light. “Cup your hand so it doesn’t show very much,” he said to Trak, but Tembul created a light as well after posing.
They silently followed Jojo through the dense undergrowth until they saw a slightly brighter light in the distance. Trak noticed that they all nursed aches and pains of one kind or another when they walked, and that included him. As they approached, Trak recognized Mori and the man at the prison, Kanoki. They stood in front of a wagon filled with firewood.
“In here,” Mori said.
Kanoki flipped a hidden lever somewhere and a panel dropped down on the side of the wagon. “In. It’s a tight fit, but I assure you, it is preferable to your last habitation.”
They all crawled into the dark space inside the wagon. Jojo had extinguished his light, but Trak kept his going until they had all found a spot. The space was barely a foot tall and confining. One of Jojo’s men began to fidget and Trak could tell he was stressed.
“I can put him to sleep,” Trak said.
Jojo nodded and Trak performed yet another instance of the poseless magic. He could get very used to the technique, he thought with a smile. They all lay face down, but Trak had bored a small hole in the bottom with his magic, so he could breathe some fresh air. He couldn’t move sufficiently to do so for the others. He extinguished his own light, and the cart began to move.
None of them spoke as the wagon jerked this way and that and rumbled and creaked its way over the dirt road until the jostling stopped.
“I’m glad that’s over,” Jojo muttered. “Smoother roads from here.”
Trak just closed his eyes and let the swaying wagon and the clatter of the wheels on the cobbled road lull him to sleep.
~
The wagon stopped as the faint light of dawn shot through Trak’s hole, illuminating part of the space underneath the wagon. Trak couldn’t make out much of what was said outside their hiding place, but then the wagon jerked forward, and they resumed their journey. Sounds of a city began to intrude into their space as the smells of Beniko began to work their way into the hiding place. Trak didn’t know how much time had passed, but the man who Trak put to sleep finally woke up and began to get agitated again. Trak motioned towards the little bit of light that Trak’s hole provided, and that seemed to calm him down.
“Not long now,” Jojo said. “Your destination will be different from ours. Don’t leave your house. It’s one that Mori owns and has a large courtyard used to transship merchandise.”
Trak caught Jojo’s smile. Trak took the term to mean contraband. Perhaps their hiding place contained illegal goods that Mori spirited into Beniko from time to time, something that she was currently doing.
The wagon stopped, and Trak could hear hinges squeaking, and then the wagon moved just a bit, and the squeaking started up again. The panel where they entered dropped down, letting bright light into the hiding place. Trak instinctively raised his hand. The men had to be pulled out of the wagon, and they all walked a bit unsteadily after their confinement.
Trak looked around at the small courtyard. Three-story buildings surrounded them, but only one building had windows looking down where they stood, and that one had a door leading out into the yard. The house appeared to be secure, since even the gate was the height of two men. No wonder the hinges squeaked, since he counted five on each of the double doors.
“Your home, for a bit,” Mori said to Tembul and Trak. She turned to Jojo and his men. “You’ll be going back in the wagon, sorry.”
The four Benninese crawled into the wagon, and Mori led Trak, Tembul, and Sirul into the house while Kanoki waited.
“Make yourselves at home. There is day-old bread and ale in the kitchen. I have inside privies on all the floors. You can fight over the two bedrooms on the third floor, and I suggest that you all have baths before I return.” She left them, and Trak could hear the squeaking hinges again.
Sirul headed to the kitchen, but Tembul made a beeline to an inside privy. Trak followed Tembul.
After Tembul used the facility, Trak pushed inside. “You need to wash off your chest. I’d like to see how you are healing.”
“I feel fine,” Tembul said.
“Let me look.” Trak chose the worst towel in a cabinet and poured water over it in a sink. He looked around the room. It was larger than what he had expected and extended further than just ‘under the stairs.’
He sat Tembul down and looked at the man’s mangled chest. It had become bloody again. As Trak began to clean off the dirt and the dried blood, he could smell the infection. “This won’t do,” he said. Trak put his hand to Tembul’s forehead and pulled it away. “You are burning up, man.”
Tembul looked at Trak impassively. “I am, but now I can do something I’ve wanted to do all day.” He fainted on the spot.
~~~
Chapter Fourteen
~
DINNER HAD TO BE THE BEST PART OF VALANNA’S DAY. Esmera employed wonderful cooks. Valanna sat down in the dining room to enjoy a chicken and dumpling casserole. The Warishians had no equivalent dish, and Valanna had learned to love it during her early days in Pestledown with Trak.
Esmera sat down with her, as she usually did, and chatted about Pestledown, generally to complain about the ever-rising taxes. King Harl had raised taxes twice since Valanna had arrived in the capital city. How much longer would the people put up with such tyranny? She totally agreed with Esmera on the stress the Crown had created in the city and in the surrounding country.
She had written a letter to Asem about the situation not too long after her latest encounter with Snively. The summoning to the P
estlan Court was imminent, and she had to let Asem know that Pestle might be easier to pluck than he had planned.
She had cut into a dumpling smothered with gravy and put it into her mouth when she heard a commotion at the front of the Inn.
“If you will excuse me,” Esmera said. Valanna couldn’t miss the alarm on her face.
Lord Puddingfan stalked into the room, flanked by four soldiers holding pikes. “Miss Sleekbottle.”
“Almond, Miss Almond,” Valanna said. She had long prepared for this moment. “I assume I am to accompany you to the palace?”
Puddingfan’s face reddened a bit. “Uh, yes. You were expecting us?”
“Eventually. Would you like a helping of this wonderful dish?” Valanna took another bite and looked up at Puddingfan. She had schooled herself against the panic that made it hard to swallow her food, but she wouldn’t let this awful excuse for a man take her easily to what might be her death.
“I will wait in front.” He posted two of the guards in the dining room and took the others with him out of her sight.
Esmera sat back down and began to pick at her own plate. “Eat hearty.”
“Since it might be my last meal?” Valanna said. “I will eat, but I will return often enough.” She eyed the guards. They didn’t look as mean as Puddingfan, and she felt sorry for them. “Can you get the guards a slice of bread or something? I hate them just looking at me.”
Unable to restrain a smile, Esmera called a maid over and gave her Valanna’s instructions. The guards thanked the maid and began to wolf down the small loaves of bread.
Valanna had put off the inevitable. “You know what to do.” She rose and walked to the front of the Inn followed by the two guards.
~
“What you currently wear is unacceptable,” Puddingfan said with hands on his hips.
