Be in charge, said her grampa. Tarah Woodblade don’t let nothing mess her cool.
“This was all unnecessary, Donjon,” Tarah said calmly. “All you had to do was say you were working with Shade and we’d have come with you.”
“Yeah right,” the dwarf said and spat, his eyes darting to Djeri as he hung from the tree.
“We’re on the same side after all,” she added.
The dwarf snorted and Tarah saw that he was not at all convinced. “Then why was you destroyin’ the tracks?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, well I gotta admit that we heard Shade had hired other folks. I wanted to be the only one to find the beast.”
“Just follow me and we’ll see what Shade thinks,” he replied.
Donjon strolled towards the tent. Tarah walked behind him, followed by the other two dwarves. They passed a few cookfires along the way where smugglers were roasting pieces of that butchered horse. Tarah recognized one of them immediately.
“Just a second, Donjon,” Tarah said, moving before he could object.
She strode over to the fire where Mel sat with his back to her, busy laughing with two other dwarves while he roasted a spit of horseflesh. Their conversation stopped as other dwarves looked up at her in surprise. Mel turned to look behind him just in time for the side of his face to meet Tarah’s boot.
Tarah’s arms were still bound behind her, but she put all her weight into the kick. The force of it sent the heavy dwarf sprawling into the fire head first. The dwarf rolled away from the fire, cursing and hollering as he brushed at the burning coals on his face and chest.
Two pairs of rough hands grabbed Tarah from behind. She was thrown to the ground and Donjon stood over her, his black rod pointed at her head. The lit ember on his cigar illuminated an unpleased face.
With a roar of anger, Mel charged at her and had to be held back by two other dwarves. His face was blackened with soot and large chunks of his mustache and eyebrows were singed off. “Blazin’ hellfire, woman! What was that fer?”
“That was for taking liberties while you were tying me up, you mangy dog!” Tarah shouted back. She looked back up at Donjon. “I’m ready to see Shade now.”
The gray-headed dwarf burst out with a guffaw and several of the other dwarves joined in the laughter. Donjon’s expression changed only slightly, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Listen, girl. You try somethin’ like that again and I don’t care what Shade thinks, I’ll slit yer ugly throat. Hear me?”
Tarah could tell he was sincere. “I do.”
They pulled her back to her feet and shoved her towards the tent. Mel complained all the while, cursing his burns and proclaiming his innocence, all the while being ridiculed by the others.
As Tarah neared the tent, she looked up at Djeri’s hanging form. The bindings seemed even more painful up close as she saw the two ropes that suspended all his weight by the elbows tied behind his back. But there was no discomfort in his face. His gaze rested on her, his eyes filled with firm determination.
A wave of guilt threatened to rush over her. There he was being so brave and yet he had no idea what was going on. How would he feel when he found out? Tarah pushed the feeling aside. Guilt was a useless emotion right now. There would be plenty of time for that later. She tried to think of something to give him encouragement.
The dwarves stopped at the tent and Donjon gestured for her to go inside. She paused and looked back up at the hanging dwarf.
“Hey, Djeri. Why are turds tapered on one end?” she asked. Djeri’s eyes were confused. “‘Cause if they weren’t, your butt would slam shut.”
It was a terrible joke Tarah had heard in a tavern somewhere, but it had the reaction she had hoped. His body shook and she could hear the sound of his muffled laughter. The gray-haired dwarf standing behind her chuckled, but Donjon wasn’t amused.
“Shut up and get in!” he said and Tarah gave him a brief nod before walking through the tent flap.
The tent reminded Tarah of a military commander’s. The wooden table that sat in the center of the tent was a jumble of maps and pieces of parchment. In contrast, the rest of the space was neat and tidy. The small cot at the back was covered by neatly folded blankets and a set of closed saddlebags was hung over a weathered wooden chest. The whole area was lit by glowing orbs set at each of the tent’s corners.
The man she had recognized earlier as Shade sat in a chair next to the table. He still wore the cloak she had seen him in earlier, but his hood had been pulled back. His scarf had been tugged away from his face and hung loose around his neck.
His face surprised her. Shade had seemed so intimidating when she first met him. Now she saw only a mild-looking man maybe in his mid 30's. He had a shock of curly brown hair and was clean shaven. If not for his trail-worn garb and the thin sword at his waist, she would have thought him a tailor of perhaps shopkeeper of some kind. The red sash that he wore across his chest didn’t help to break that illusion.
“Good evening,” he said, his voice a pleasant baritone. He gestured to another chair that sat facing him. “I must admit I was surprised when the dwarves brought you down from the foothills. Please, sit.”
His mildness emboldened her. Tarah grunted and plopped down into the chair. She was Tarah Woodblade, after all. “You know, Shade, no one likes a client that's always hovering over you while you're trying to work."
Shade gave her a disarming smile. "I apologize for that, Tarah, I hope you don't mind me calling you that. My other hirelings weren't aware that you were . . . on the team, so to speak. Your method of capture was terribly unfortunate."
"Right. Terribly unfortunate indeed," she said, returning his smile with one of her own. "Tarah Woodblade does not like being rough handled. There’s a dwarf outside with a burnt face that can attest to that. And the way they beat on my bodyguard don’t make me happy either.”
Shade leaned back in his chair and cocked his head at her slightly. The pleasantness left his eyes. “As I said. I apologize for your rough treatment. As for your academy friend, I really don’t care. The question is what do I do with you now?”
Tarah pressed on. “Before you get started, you should know that this little incident is going to increase my fee. If you're still interested in my services, you'll double what you promised to pay and you’ll release the dwarf you got hanging from the tree outside. In addition-."
"I'm sorry, there must be some sort of misunderstanding,” Shade interrupted, the smile leaving his face completely. “I didn’t bring you in here for a contract renegotiation. This is merely an apology for your rough treatment.”
Tarah frowned. This wasn’t going as she’d hoped. Her grampa urged her to press on. “Sorry, Shade. If you want my help, and believe me you do, you’re gonna have to do better than an apology at this point.”
Shade cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t mind having your help in tracking down the beast we are seeking, but if you wish to be paid nothing and hung in the tree with your associate, I can oblige you. Otherwise, the contract will go on as previously negotiated." A steely tone entered his voice next and his eyes hardened. "Am I understood, Tarah?"
The tone in his voice raised warning bells in her mind. Grampa Rolf now suggested she ease back, but Tarah’s rage rose. How dare he? How dare all of them after what she’d been through the last couple of days?
She couldn’t keep the glare out of her eyes. "You can quit the tough guy game, Shade. Yeah, fine, put me in the tree, but you'll never find that beast on your own. These dwarfs of yours are idiots. They wouldn’t know what to do with a creature like that even if they could find their arses with their own two hands. For nature’s sake, they’re out there eating one of their own horses right now.” She folded her arms. “If you want that rogue horse, you’re gonna need Tarah Woodblade."
Mentioning that she knew the beast was a rogue horse was a gamble, but she wanted Shade to know she knew her business. The cool look he gave her told Tarah that she was onto something. Ye
s, he was frustrated with the efforts of the dwarves all right. He wanted her help or he wouldn't have brought her in.
“I find it interesting that you know the nature of our quarry,” he said.
“I’m Tarah Woodblade. I figured it out,” she said. "So, what's it going to be Shade? You gonna string me up, or are you gonna renegotiate?"
Shade appraised her for a moment, then whistled. The two dwarves entered the tent and there was a sharp pop. Tarah’s body seized up again. As the dwarves pulled her out of the chair, Shade gave a snort.
“Tarah, I am disappointed. Truly I am. I had hoped that you would be less foolish. The rumors I heard told me that you were formidable. Full of confidence. The only thing I’ve seen from you so far is a scared girl trying to impress." He directed his next comment to the dwarves behind her. "String her up by the elbows next to her dwarf friend. If she's too loud, gag her."
He stood and grasped her chin. Lifting her eyes to meet his, he said. "We move out in the morning. I'll check on you then to see if you've changed your mind."
Chapter Fifteen
The dwarves did as Shade instructed. As they dragged Tarah to the tree, she saw a look of concern in Djeri’s eyes. She felt like such a fool. She had ignored her grampa’s warning and had antagonized the man. She should have played along for a while instead and focused on getting Djeri released.
At any rate it was too late now. The dwarves had difficulty getting her arms back into the position they wanted, so they unlaced the front of her leather armor to gain some slack, then tied her wrists behind her back. They tied ropes around her arms at the elbows and threw the ropes over the stout tree branch next to Djeri. The position they had her in hurt and they hadn’t even lifted her yet.
As they went to hoist her into the air, Leroy grinned at her nastily. “We’re takin’ this spell off you now. Boss Donjon wants to see how sturdy you are. If you don’t scream too loud, we’ll let you go without a gag. Hell, who knows. Maybe if you impress him enough, he’ll convince Shade to play nicer in the mornin’.”
“Bah,” said Mel, walking up to them. He’d cleaned the soot off of his face, but patches of his skin were inflamed and flushed red. Tarah would have found the state of his facial hair comical if she hadn’t been so afraid. “Look at her dwarf friend. Even he’d be squealin’ if we didn’t have him gagged. She’ll be ballin’ her eyes out right away, even if we don’t wrench her arms out their sockets just haulin’ her up!”
“I think yer wrong about that dwarf, Mel,” said the dwarf with the gray mustache. He was giving Djeri a measured look. “I think I know who this one is. If I’m right, he’s a Cragstalker.”
“He’s yer kin?” said Mel. “What the hell’s a Cragstalker doin’ with a pitiful beard like that?”
“Distant kin,” he replied. “Though I don’t know who’d claim him. I’d better talk to Donjon.”
Mel enthusiastically took his place holding Tarah’s ropes. As they hoisted her up, they did so with a jerk. Pain shot from her shoulders down both arms. Tarah’s eyes bulged. She gritted her teeth but a cry escaped her lips. As they hoisted her up higher, the pain increased. It felt as if her shoulders were going to tear free from their sockets. She held on, trying not to scream. She was Tarah Woodblade. She was tough. Everyone knew it. She refused to give Shade the satisfaction of breaking her.
Thirty seconds passed. It seemed like hours. She imagined her shoulders slowly tearing free. She no longer cared about toughness. Tarah screamed.
“Let me down! Tell Shade I’ll do whatever he asks. Just let me down!”
The dwarves laughed. One of them handed some coins to another one.
“Please! My arms are breaking!” She strained, trying to pull her body’s weight off her shoulder joints but there was no way to get leverage. She kicked but each movement just made it worse. She sobbed and moaned. She pleaded. The dwarves in the camp below finally stopped laughing after a sharp order from Shade’s tent.
They lowered Tarah to the ground slowly. “Thank you,” she said as her feet touched ground. “I’ll do whatever he wants, I promise.”
Leroy rolled his eyes. “Don’t get too excited, girlie. This ain’t a rescue. Shade just wants us to shut you up is all.”
The dwarf yanked a handkerchief out of his back pocket and shoved it in her mouth. It wasn’t clean. Tarah could taste dirt and salt and something a little sour. She tried to spit it out, but his fingers were like iron. He then held it in place with a strip of cloth that he tied behind the back of her head. Tarah choked and retched, but nothing came up.
The dwarf just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yer tough alright.”
They prepared to haul her up again. Tarah panicked, jumping up and down, kicking, trying to stomp their feet. Then she glanced up at Djeri dangling above her. The Dwarf wasn’t struggling. Though his face was red with rage, he stayed completely still. His eyes locked on hers with firmness. Don’t let them beat you, the dwarf’s eyes said.
“Don’t pretend to be so tough, short beard!” one of the other dwarves said. This one was a female with a downy mustache of her own. She picked something up off the ground and threw it at him. To Tarah’s eyes it looked like a dead rat. Perhaps they had killed it skulking around their camp.
The rat would have hit him square in the face, but Djeri jerked his head forward at the last moment, knocking the rat back at them with his forehead. To the dwarf’s dismay, it landed in their stew pot with a plop.
The dwarves around the cookfire shouted at the female that threw the rat. Tarah saw Djeri’s body quiver with laughter. He fixed his eyes on hers and gave her a brief nod again. She nodded back, forcing down the fear.
The dwarves started hauling her back up. As the rope yanked, she felt a pop in her right shoulder. A muffled cry escaped her lips, but she cut it short, refusing to let them hear her suffering. Once they stopped pulling, she dangled there, squirming until she met Djeri’s eyes again.
The dwarf was completely still, his legs spread. Tarah understood. She forced her body to keep still, avoiding any jarring movements. Still the pain was excruciating and though she kept quiet, tears streamed down her cheeks.
Tarah couldn’t believe she was reacting to it so badly. She had honed herself to be tough and her grampa had helped her create a persona that would give people confidence in her abilities. She had always imagined that she would be able to handle torture if it ever happened to her. But she’d been wrong. This was a pain she had not prepared for.
It wore on her until the only thing keeping her from kicking and moaning was embarrassment over her behavior. Djeri had seen her screaming like a child. She had shown them the truth she had tried to hide for so long. She was a coward.
Tarah searched for anything to give her strength, pleading for her papa’s and grampa’s advice, but they were silent. Neither one of them had prepared her for a moment such as this. Why hadn’t they prepared her?
It was hard, but she held firm. The night crept by with an agonizing slowness. Every time she thought she would break, she turned her head to find the dwarf staring back at her, giving her an encouraging stare. Eventually her shoulder sockets went numb. Her arms went numb. She couldn’t feel her fingers.
At that point she began to worry about permanent damage to her nerves. Well, that and the dirty handkerchief. It had absorbed all the moisture in her mouth and she struggled not to gag. She focused on Djeri’s encouragement for as long as she could. Then she focused on her hate.
She hated the dwarves and their nasty laughter. But even more, she hated Shade. Why had he done this? Why was he hunting this rogue horse and why had he hired dwarves? They were too loud to be good trackers.
She looked at the carcass of the animal that hung across from Djeri, rotating slowly in the wind, most of its meat cut off. Why had they killed the horse? Why kill one of their own work animals like that? She shuddered as a creeping suspicion flowed over her. She hoped she was wrong.
As the night wore on, the ache returned. Tar
ah drifted into sleep only to wake up with the feeling that hot irons had been stuck in the core of her bones. It was a dull, angry ache that stretched from her back down to her fingertips.
She looked to Djeri, to find that he was still watching her, his gaze warm and understanding. I’m strong, his eyes seemed to say. Take some of my strength.
How was he doing it? Sure, he was a dwarf, but he’d been strung up much longer than she had and his plate armor was adding a lot of extra weight. Nevertheless, he stayed stoic. Throughout the night, no matter how bad the pain became, Djeri was there hanging beside her, strong and dependable, giving her courage; doing what Tarah Woodblade should have done.
When daylight broke, Shade came out of his tent and stood below her looking up with a calculating expression on his face. His red sash gleamed in the sun and Tarah looked back at him, her face expressionless. He called out to the dwarves and they came over to grasp her ropes.
Gently, they lowered her down and Tarah allowed herself to think on her arms once again. She couldn’t feel them, not really. But her shoulder socket was afire with a dull ache. She glanced up at Djeri and he gave her a stoic nod.
When the weight was eased from her shoulders, she was struck again with a sharp pain. Tarah moaned despite her resolve. The dwarves cut her free. She swayed on her feet while her arms hung at her sides throbbing and tingling so fiercely she nearly collapsed.
“Remove her gag,” Shade instructed.
Once they had done so, she pushed the nasty handkerchief out with her tongue and grimaced at the taste that remained in her dry mouth. She couldn’t even work up enough saliva to spit, much less form words.
“Get her some water!” Shade demanded and as one of the dwarves brought a leather water skin, he said, “Well, Tarah, have you rethought your proposal?”
Tarah worked her mouth but no sound came out. She was really going to fall over soon. When he saw that she couldn’t respond, Shade continued.
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