"Oh, I'll bear that in mind. I wouldn't want that to happen. I mean, you might keep me prisoner, or tie me hand and foot and drug me if I don't behave myself! Yes, things could get a lot worse."
"Nha ha ha, snort!" It was Nya laughing. "Nahaha, you funny little soldier girl!" Wes, however, was not laughing. He was staring at her with ice-cold eyes, freezing her with fear. He was no longer the Wes she used to know, but the remnant of a once-lo: damaged and dangerous. It was no use trying either to reason with him or treat him as a friend. He was neither reasonable nor friendly.
"We will remove your bonds if you give your word to co-operate, otherwise you will have to be restrained." Wes was talking to her as though she were some prisoner arrested by the guardians and being taken for questioning.
"Where are you taking me?"
"We are taking you to meet your Wandmaster, little girl, or at least we are heading in the same direction. When we arrive, it will be interesting to see if he chooses you or his so-called quest."
"You're taking me to Ataxios to use against the Wandmaster? But why, Wes, why? What can you hope to gain?"
"Gain? No, it's not about gain, its about not losing. I simply want him dead, and I'd rather see you dead too, than with the Wandmaster! Do you hear me? ….....DEAD!" he screamed the last word in her face with such violence that she lost all her bravado and was truly afraid. She could see he meant what he said, and also that he was irrational and mad with jealousy and hatred. She tried to hold his gaze, but her weakened state and the sickening headache made it impossible and she closed her eyes and groaned. She reached for John, but as she strived to find a connection, the pain in her head increased till she let out a little moan.
"You no think-talk. Herb makes pain come when think-talk."
Now she opened her eyes and surveyed Nya, looking much the worse for wear. Before Wes stopped her arm, she had wounded the spindly in the thigh, and he was wearing a ragged bandage tied round the cut, while his overlarge shirt had a slash across the chest, through which she could see a deep gash. The lightsword had made clean cuts, which still oozed blood, and he moved awkwardly. She was glad. But what to do now? It could serve no purpose to remain bound, and she could promise these two anything and feel no guilt at breaking her word at the first opportunity. They were scum, and Nya was murdering scum, so it was not a question of morality.
"OK. I won't try to escape. I don't think I could if I tried. Let me loose, please." She kept her head, her voice and her eyes low so as not to provoke, and waited.
"You will only make one attempt to escape. There will be no second chances." Wes untied her feet and then released her arms from their bonds. She had been trussed so firmly that her limbs hurt on being released, and she flexed and stretched her muscles to bring back feeling.
"And now, gentlemen, I really need to find a quiet spot and be private for a while, if you know what I mean."
"Come with me," said Wes and moved off. She struggled to her feet, her head still thumping and tried to take in her surroundings. There was no way to tell where they were. Who could tell where this scrappy little piece of vegetation lie? Slowly she followed Wes, stumbling and dizzy, and she hadn't gone far when her stomach churned and she lunged to the side of the track onto her knees and was violently sick. Wes, a look of distaste on his face, halted and waited for her to cease retching, and then said coldly, "Get up. Come this way". He pushed through some low brambles, and waited for her to reach him. "In there, I'll be waiting just here."
Without answering, Jazlyn stepped through the brambles, which Wes allowed to spring back after her, and found herself mercifully alone. She wanted to put a little distance between Wes and herself and so she moved forward into the scrub till she found a place where she felt she couldn't be heard or seen and gratefully relieved herself. She didn't know how long she had been trussed up and doped, but she was uncomfortably bloated. She had nowhere to wash her hands, so the smell of vomit was still on her, making her feel soiled and she found it hard to keep her composure. She wanted to cry. She never cried. Guardians didn't cry. Nonetheless, a stab of emotion brought a lump to her throat, and her eyes stung wildly, and in that moment, she sought John. The pain in her head became piercing and she bit her lip not to cry out, and in one split second, a sensory photograph left her and somewhere in the Athrak Mountains John suddenly stumbled and grasped Gil's shoulder for support.
"What is it Wandmaster?" asked Gilladen, who was marching with him. White faced, John picked himself up and dusted himself down. "I just stumbled," he said, and wondered why he lied. He halted for a while to process the information contained in Jazlyn's injection of sensations into his mind. Pain, fear, weakness, entrapment, and two captors, one of whom was the brother of the man at his side! John could not divulge that to Gilladen. And the other? John searched the all-too-short communication, and felt just an inkling of another presence in Jazlyn's mind. "Nya!" he thought. "It has to be Nya, we were fighting him, but something stopped us." The realization that it was Wes who had stopped their arm in its course through the air to finish off Nya hit home. Jazlyn was in the hands of a murderer and a jealous ex-lo! "Keep her safe," he wished into the wand, and resumed his marching. After a few minutes, during which time conversation with Gilladen became very difficult, John excused himself to drop back through the ranks and find Vilma and Menoneth. It was important that they be aware of Jazlyn's situation. But why did they have her? What did it mean? His blood ran cold in his veins as the possibilities occurred to him one after the other. He hoped his fears were ungrounded, but he suspected they were not.
Jazlyn's stomach continued to clench into cramps, probably the result of the herbs they had been forcing down her to keep her from think-talking to John or her mother. When she emerged from the clearing, Wes was waiting impassively, and motioned for her to precede him in the direction of the little clearing she had woken up in. When they reached Nya, he was retying the bandage around his leg, which still seeped blood, and she reasoned that it should have clotted and started to heal by then, and wondered why it hadn't.
"Is there any water to wash with?" she asked of neither in particular.
"No, you'll have to stink," was the reply from Wes, and she was once more struck by the change in him, and looked into his face trying to find some trace of the man she once thought of as hers. He was gritting his teeth, as she could see by the tiny movement of his jaw, and that meant that he was having to try at least a little to maintain his image. That was interesting. She dropped her eyes, and stood meekly, not speaking, and waiting for what would come next. When she didn't respond, Wes risked a glance in her direction and saw her lowered eyes and pale face, well, it was her fault and now she was going to pay, and so was the man who had come between them.
"We'll be crossing a small stream later, you can wash there." Jazlyn kept her eyes low, but nodded.
"Thank-you," she mumbled in a low voice, as meekly as she could. Wes needed her anger to fuel his own, it was clear. How would he react to her being soft and malleable? Nya had been following the exchange with intelligent observation, and when Jazlyn looked up, she momentarily caught his eye. There was a knowing smile playing slightly around his wide mouth, and his steady gaze told her he had seen through her tactic. He was a clever and slippery creature, and she would have to be very careful.
"I feel sick and empty. Is there anything to eat or drink other than your herbal poison?"
"You have to drink that. There's no other way."
"Only that?" She queried.
"Here", said Wes, and held out a chunk of bread in her direction. Then Nya brought her a cup of bitter tea with a pungent smell, that reminded her of a peppery, leather-leaved shrub which grew in barren summer fields. She knew the plant, but had no idea it could be used as a mind drug. Obediently, she drank the brew, hoping that she had reached John, for no matter how brief a moment because she didn't think she would be able to face the violent headache again to think-talk with a system full of the drug. This time, h
er stomach rejected the brew immediately, and she was once again violently sick. Wes turned his back, not wanting to watch.
"What happens now, Nya? She can't keep it down."
"Hmm, it ok. She still full of herb. Give more later." To Jazlyn he said
"You eat now." Wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her shirt, Jazlyn nodded and started to munch very dubiously and slowly on her bread.
"Please can I have some water?" she asked.
"Here," said Wes again. "Take the flask and keep it." She didn't blame him. In his shoes, she wouldn't have wanted to use the same drinking flask either. She was unwashed and stank of vomit.
"Thanks."
They had a plan, Wes and Nya; that was clear from the start. They knew exactly where they were going. Sure enough, after about an hour and a half they crossed a stream, and Jazlyn took the opportunity to wash her face and hands, dipping the sleeves of her shirt into the water and leaning her chest in so that the cloth that stank was at least rinsed of the smell that clung to her. She unbraided her hair and used water to gather it back into its plait again. The cold water restored her, and put colour in her cheeks. Wes watched her hungrily from under lowered lids. Her movements were fluid, her arms well muscled, and her body proportionate. His teeth ground and he was tense as he followed her every move.
"Come on, that will do. We haven't got all day."
He stood by her as she finished up, and her face as she looked up at him was a stinging reminder of days past.
They travelled on, and Nya, with a nod to Wes, limped off through the greenery ahead of them, presumably to scout ahead. Jazlyn had begun to suspect from the occasional sightings of the sun through the canopy of trees, that they were not in fact heading for Athrak, but she couldn't be sure. Nya returned and then disappeared again, so that the two guardians were left in each other's unhappy company.
"How did you two come to team up?" Wes didn't answer.
"Where did you go when you left Kinguard, your father was frantic, you know." A snort of impatience left Wes's lips, and he answered, "As if anyone cared! Listen, I don't want to talk about this. Just shut up and walk."
"I'm walking, but that doesn't mean I can't talk."
"You have nothing to say that will interest me, and I don't want to talk to you. Get it?"
"Look, Wes, I know you're feelings were hurt but.."
"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!" He had turned to face her, and his eyes were blazing with fury.
"Sorry, I just wanted…"
"SHUT UP, I SAID!" and before she knew it, his hand was raised ready to strike her.
"I said I'm sorry!" she said, pleadingly, "I won't say anything more," and she once again lowered her eyes submissively.
With effort, he stayed his hand, and he blew out a deep breath as they walked on together in silence. Nya appeared again.
"It time she drink herb again." Wes took his pack off his back and unstoppered a dark bottle, pouring a cupful and handing it to Jazlyn.
"It'll make me sick!" she pleaded. But the look on Wes's face told her it was useless to resist. They would force it down her throat if she refused. With a sigh, she drank the unpleasant, oily liquid, and once again her stomach clenched and she threw up.
"I can't drink this stuff!" she pleaded on her hands and knees.
"Drink more," was all that Nya said. "Little and slow." Staggering to her feet, she took tiny sips, making them look bigger than they were, and allowed as little as possible to actually reach her stomach, retaining it in her mouth as best she could. Even the tiny amount she drank made her feel ill, and her head ached and thumped mercilessly. Walking was more and more difficult, and she now had no appetite for conversation. The party of three ambled on and by the afternoon, they had covered a lot of ground, despite her weakened condition but she still had no idea where she was. They had seen nobody, and heard nothing but small animals and birds in the wooded countryside. Nya had once again returned and this time emerged motioning agitatedly with his hands to Wes that he should get Jazlyn and himself under cover. Nya disappeared swiftly into the bush, and Wes roughly dragged Jazlyn off the track they had been following, and pulled her with him behind the trunk of an aged tree some distance into the woods.
Footsteps and the rustle of leaves gave away the presence of a group of men. Jazlyn wondered from which village they might be and if they would be able to help her if she cried out. She made a slight movement and Wes immediately pinned her to the tree with his body, his hand over her mouth, and a look of warning in his eye. The footsteps halted on the track, where they had been but a short time ago, and to her surprise, Jazlyn recognized the voice of Pendrik, one of the keepers from Kavanagh Heights. Had they tracked them over such a great distance?
"These signs are fresh, but they seem to stop here. No, wait a minute…. Look, they leave the track here and go off into the bush."
Jazlyn couldn't breathe, not only because of Wes's hand covering her mouth, but also at the thought that aid was so close to hand.
The bushes started to move. Pendrik wasn't alone, and Jazlyn hoped that whoever was with him was also guardian trained.
Suddenly, a heavy thud was heard, and a voice gave a grunt. Then Pendrik shouted,
"Shaklin!" and a second thud was heard. There was silence for a moment, and then stealthily through the bushes Nya appeared.
"You come now!" and Wes pulled Jazlyn roughly along with him. Nya led them off away from the track and the place where Pendrik and Shaklin now lay. She glanced down at them lying senseless and she hoped they were not dead, but she didn't dare ask. She was, however, now more than ever aware of Nya's ruthlessness and strength. He had dealt with two trained ex-guardians with very apparent ease, and they had no time to put up a struggle. He was both swift and merciless.
Wes, Nya and their prisoner came out of the trees approximately where she and Marny had been walking when they were attacked. Jazlyn realized that they had been wandering the nearby countryside all the time, never actually going anywhere, which was probably why she had been unable to sense in which direction they were heading. They were back at Kavanagh Heights, but why? The answer was soon evident. Wes and Nya knew exactly where they were going, and they hurried her along with them. In the field below the hills where the two girls had walked were the open paddocks where the flying animals were kept, and the three were heading there with all the speed they could force her unwilling legs to muster. She couldn't hold her tongue.
"We're flying out of here?" Once again, Wes warned her roughly to keep quiet. They kept to the cover of the shadow at the edge of the hill where there were a few trees, and Jazlyn was sure they would be undetected. There was no point in shouting; no one would hear her. There was no guard kept over the animals. She herself had been enlisted to fly out supplies because the numbers of riders had dwindled and those that remained had aged. There were no new flyers, and the animals were kept because they always had been; it was a tradition more than anything and grossly undervalued she had thought then, and now she knew she was right.
Jazlyn could fly. Nya had impossibly long legs, which would make it hard for him to stay on the flyer's back, and Wes was heavily built and tall. It would need a sturdy animal to support his weight. She wondered if she would be able to escape them and outfly them, and determined to try her best to do both.
"She need tying," said Nya, in immediate response to her thoughts.
"Mmm, yes. We'll lash her on to her mount and bind her hands. Her animal can fly behind yours and I'll tail her on mine," answered Wes. The three kept to the outer edge of the broad open ground, which swept away into the distance. As they approached, the animals became jittery, and Jazlyn hoped that maybe they would panic, perhaps fly into the air, and attract attention from the settlement, but Nya sidled among them, humming a nasal tune, which seemed to calm them. Indeed, one of the animals approached him and he fondly stroked its head. He offered it a palmful of golden liquid, and it sucked with a slender tube-like tongue the nectar offered, following on b
ehind him when he moved on to the next beast. He knew which flyers he wanted, and Jazlyn couldn't help but be impressed by this ungainly individual's cunning mind. He selected a mount for Wes, the strongest of the herd, and for Jazlyn an aging and slightly podgy animal, much slower and less lively than the other two. Yes, Nya was very intelligent. She wouldn't be outflying anyone on that beast. Wes had no hesitation in handling his animal, and it was evident that this was not his first contact with flying. Once more, Jazlyn mused that the flying animals had been underused, and from present evidence, under-guarded. Had these two been using the beasts for flying lessons? It looked that way; and there had been nobody to stop them. ‘Curses!' she thought, 'And even now there's not a soul to see us. So close to the settlement, and completely undetected!' In her frustration, and due to the small amounts of drug she had been able to keep in her stomach, this last thought escaped her head without too much pain and flew with speed to her aunt, Melindra, in the settlement of Kavanagh Heights not ten minutes away.
In the hideout of caves and camouflaged structures, which made up the settlement, Jazlyn's silent frustration struck home like an arrow, and her aunt leapt to her feet.
"Jazlyn!" she shrieked. Around her were several ex-guardians, both men and women and Marny, who all jumped up, staring straight at Melindra, who carried on.
"They're taking Jazlyn!"
"Who are?"
"They're taking her on the flyers!"
"Here? Now?" yelled Jackman, an elderly but fit ex-guardian whose job it was to tend the beasts and to fly occasionally. "On my flyers?"
He was already buckling on his sword, and at his side he found another two companions, a little long in the tooth, but with willing hands buckling on their own. Two women, Briany and Jessiper, who were somewhat younger and, as ex-guardians themselves, still in good form, sprang from the shelter to find swords.
"Where are Pendrick and Shaklin? Haven't they returned?" pleaded Jackman, "This is not good, not good at all. Come on. There's nobody else. We're all Jazlyn's got."
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