Slave of Sondelle: The Eleven Kingdoms

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Slave of Sondelle: The Eleven Kingdoms Page 32

by Bevan McGuiness


  She dared not look up, even when she heard the woman speak.

  ‘Now, human, let’s see if your stamina matches your strength.’

  Maida cringed inwardly when she heard the sounds of clothing being removed, followed by bodies falling onto a bed. She tried to ignore the other sounds that followed and what they meant. The images in her mind would undo her were she to dwell on what was happening on the bed, so instead she tried to visualise the room from the glimpse she stole as the monster carried her in.

  Semi-circular, about ten paces on the straight side. The door was set slightly off-centre in the straight wall. To her right was the bed, her left a wardrobe. Directly ahead was a mirror, with a window on its left, beneath which was a table. On the other side of the mirror was a low box, about a pace in length, half that in height. It was locked, or at least had a heavy clasp. No weapons she could see anywhere in the room.

  As if that thing would need weapons!

  The sounds from the bed became louder and more insistent. Maida risked a movement, raising her head to look. Yes, they were busy on the bed, too busy to notice her. She slipped her hand underneath herself and found the hilt of the dagger she kept tucked under her jerkin. She eased the dagger out of its hiding place and gripped it tight.

  Only one chance at this. You only have one chance. Get it right.

  With a deep breath, ignoring the screaming pains from her injuries, she surged to her feet, took a single pace and threw herself at the couple on the bed. For an instant, she felt triumph, but triumph vanished as the woman threw Keshik aside and rolled away. Maida fell onto the bed. Powerful hands gripped her wrist and twisted sharply. Maida cried out as the dagger fell from her suddenly numb fingers. Claws raked across her back, tearing through leather and cloth to reach her flesh. Maida felt the blood start to well from the wounds.

  Tatya picked her up and threw her across the room. Maida hit the wall hard and fell to the floor. Her every sense was dazed. She had no time to react before Tatya was on her again, picking her up and throwing her back onto the bed. She bounced once and careered into the wall beyond. The impact drove all the air from her lungs and left her stunned, unable to move.

  ‘That was naughty,’ Tatya said. ‘Normally I like naughty, but not now.’ She slid her arms under Maida and lifted her easily. ‘I am going to put you over here,’ she said as she carried Maida across the room, ‘and I will deal with you later.’ She held Maida upright and slammed her once again into the wall.

  Maida felt metal restraints click into place around her ankles as if by magic. Tatya grabbed her wrists and lifted them above her head to smash them into the wall as more restraints clicked into place. Tatya stepped back.

  ‘That should keep you where I want you,’ she purred.

  Maida struggled against the metal, but the restraints held firm, did not even rattle. She spat a curse at Tatya’s back as the woman walked away.

  Tatya paused, turned and glared at Maida.

  ‘Be silent, visitor,’ she hissed. She stepped closer to Maida and raked her thick, hooked nails down Maida’s chest. Again, leather and cloth parted, leaving her clothes in tatters, but not her skin. ‘I said I will deal with you later.’

  Over Tatya’s shoulder, Maida noticed Keshik unsteadily rising to his feet. If she could distract this monster for a few more moments…

  ‘Deal with me now,’ Maida spat. ‘I get bored easily.’

  Tatya moved close enough that their bodies touched. Her face was pressed against Maida’s as she spoke.

  ‘I don’t like you,’ she said. ‘Your death will be slow and unpleasant. All the worse for waiting for it.’

  She was too close for Maida to get any force behind her head-butt, but she tried anyway. It ended up being little more than a push with her forehead, but it was enough to keep Tatya’s attention on her. Keshik was upright and moving purposefully.

  Tatya snarled and bit Maida on the cheek; her teeth were sharp and she drew blood. Maida tried to drive her head again into Tatya’s face, but before she could, Tatya gripped her chin and shoved her head back against the wall. She licked the blood off Maida’s face.

  ‘I am going to enjoy …’ She did not get to end the sentence as Keshik slammed his fist into the base of her skull. Maida watched as Tatya’s eyes rolled up. Keshik stepped back and allowed her to slump to the floor. As she fell, she changed shape. By the time she landed, she was a rodent-sized animal with dark brown fur and a long, naked tail.

  Keshik stooped and picked Tatya up by the tail.

  ‘What are you?’ he asked of the unconscious rodent, giving her a little shake.

  ‘Dead, hopefully,’ Maida answered.

  ‘No, she isn’t.’

  ‘Kill her.’

  ‘No, I don’t think I will.’

  ‘Why? Do you want to breed little rats?’

  ‘I think she could be very useful.’

  Maida shuddered. ‘Can you unchain me?’

  Keshik gripped Tatya’s tail firmly in his left fist and examined Maida’s restraints. He grunted.

  ‘I need a key.’

  Maida sighed.

  Keshik’s search took a while, but finally he found a small golden key with which he unlocked Maida. She rubbed her wrists as she looked down at the ruin of her clothes.

  The wardrobe. I think she owes me that much.

  While Keshik got dressed, she flung open the wardrobe. It was full of rich, beautiful clothes. What she would not wear she could sell and make some good money. Maida smiled as she selected something to wear.

  Keshik found a leather bag and stuffed the rodent into it, tying it closed tightly. He hung the bag from his belt.

  ‘Ready?’ he asked Maida.

  Maida, dressed in a rich red skirt and a pink bodice with a fur wrap around her shoulders, bobbed a curtsy. The effect was spoiled a little by the pile of clothes she was trying to balance in her arms. Keshik scowled and left the room.

  Once back in the room whose window they had entered through, Keshik indicated for Maida to leave while he picked up the box from the library. That done, he slipped out and joined Iskopra and Maida in the shadows across the road.

  ‘That took longer than I thought,’ Iskopra said. He gave Maida a quizzical look. ‘And I thought you were looking for a box.’

  Keshik grunted and started to jog away. After a moment’s juggling her load of clothes, Maida followed. Iskopra shook his head in disbelief and ran along behind.

  They slept under a bridge somewhere out of the main city area. The bridge was low and made of sturdy stone, providing shelter from the evening chill, but scant protection from the other dwellers of the underbelly of the city, who seemed to think the bridge was theirs by right. It took three brief demonstrations of Keshik’s virtuosity with the blade before they were left alone.

  The morning dawned grey and cold. Keshik, swords drawn, was still standing watch. Maida rose and joined him, slipping her arm around his waist. They stood in silence for a while, watching the sun rise over the buildings that lined the watercourse. People were moving about; conversations reached their ears, carts started rumbling along the roads, dogs yapped and the smells of cooking wafted on the still air. In the morning light, Mollnde looked old, tired and careworn. Smoke drifted above the buildings while refuse drifted along the river.

  The river, too, seemed old and tired. Its banks had been reinforced over the centuries with stone and wood, removing any hint of its natural path. Being summer, its flow was sluggish and shallow, which left its edges lined with the detritus of human habitation. Here and there along its path, ragged people picked with desultory resignation at the rubbish in the vain hope of finding those occasional valuable trinkets that richer, less careful inhabitants might lose.

  ‘We did well last night,’ Keshik said.

  ‘We did,’ Maida agreed. ‘What do you think is in the box?’

  ‘I think Tatya will want it more than Cort will.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘
Shapeshifters are complicated creatures, especially ones like Tatya. Sometimes they are captured and held captive by sorcery. I think the box will be the key to her service.’

  ‘Whoever has the box has Tatya,’ Maida guessed.

  ‘I think so, yes.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  Keshik softly patted the leather bag hanging from his belt. ‘She’s still asleep.’

  ‘Asleep? How can she sleep in there?’

  Keshik shrugged.

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Give the box to Cort. That was the agreement.’

  ‘And put her back into captivity? Just like she was to that other man?’

  Keshik nodded, but he knew what was coming next and cringed slightly. Maida would argue that he should let Tatya go and thus fail to live up to his agreement with Cort. She would be passionate, he would get angry, they would fight and he would do what he wanted to do while she sulked for a few days. It was a normal part of their lives and he was loath to change it. Maida knew he was duty-bound to fulfil his obligations, just as he knew she was driven to argue on this point.

  ‘Shall I just start sulking now?’ Maida said.

  Keshik put his arm across her shoulders. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is there any way we can help Tatya?’

  ‘Why would you want to help her? She nearly killed us last night.’

  ‘Only because she had no choice.’

  ‘You don’t know that.’

  Maida suddenly laughed, an incongruous sound amid the pathos of this sad little river.

  ‘What exactly was your agreement with this Cort?’ she asked.

  ‘I would get him the box and he would give me the name of someone who could help me find out what happened in Vogel.’

  ‘Did you say anything about giving him what was in the box?’

  Iskopra led them back into the poor quarter, through the winding alleys to the small plaza. As before there were a few people just waiting around for something to happen, but this time Keshik ignored them and walked straight across to Cort’s door. He shoved it open without knocking and strode inside.

  Cort was sitting behind a desk, deep in conversation with a tall bulky man who had gone to fat some time earlier.

  ‘What is the …?’ Cort started as he got to his feet, but he stopped when he recognised Keshik. The look on his face changed instantly to one of cheerful greeting. ‘Visitor. You are a welcome sight.’

  Keshik gave a short grunt in reply and tossed the box across the room. Cort managed to get his hands up and catch it before it struck him in the face. He lowered it and examined it at arm’s length. A beaming smile split his face.

  ‘It is beautiful,’ he whispered.

  ‘A name,’ Keshik demanded.

  ‘The name?’ Cort looked up, momentarily disoriented by the brusque question. ‘Oh, yes the name — Fraunhof. A Reader in Leserlang. He is the one you want.’ He lowered his eyes to continue his examination of the box. His fingers found the hidden release mechanism and pushed. With an audible click, the box sprang open.

  ‘No!’ cried Maida. ‘Don’t open the —’

  The rest of her words were lost in an ear-splitting yowl as Tatya exploded to full size, tearing out of the leather sack hanging at Keshik’s belt. She hesitated for an instant, looking around the room. Seeing Cort holding the box, she pounced. In a single leap, she was across the room, landing on Cort’s desk, sending papers flying as she skidded over its smooth surface. She smashed into Cort and they both landed heavily on the floor. With a roar and a single stroke of her claws, Tatya tore Cort’s head from his shoulders.

  Maida screamed and backed towards the door, but Tatya heard her and leaped back over the desk after her. She caught Maida in the doorway and bowled her over, driving her claws into her shoulders as she stood on Maida’s body, staring down at her screaming face.

  A savage kick to the side of her head made Tatya look away from Maida to Iskopra. He staggered slightly, attempting to regain his balance after his powerful kick. Tatya looked back down at Maida and lowered her head. She pulled a bag from Maida’s hand with her mouth and bounded away into the slums.

  Chaos erupted outside as people ran screaming in terror from the black fiend that sped through their midst.

  Keshik kneeled by Maida in the doorway. She was white-faced and blood was again running from wounds in her shoulders. The big man who had been talking with Cort came to stand behind Keshik.

  ‘What was that?’ he asked in a trembling voice.

  ‘That was Tatya, a shapeshifter,’ Iskopra answered. ‘It was what Cort wanted. That box held her in thrall, but when he opened it, he broke the spell. She took her chance and… ‘ Iskopra turned to look at the blood-spattered wall above Cort’s lifeless body.

  ‘I tried to warn him,’ Maida gasped.

  ‘You did,’ said Keshik. He rose to confront the other man. ‘And you heard her. My commitment here is finished, but I do not think yours is.’

  ‘Mine?’

  Keshik pointed to Maida, seemingly hovering on the edge of consciousness. ‘My friend was nearly killed by his stupidity. I can either take retribution, or …’

  The big man took Keshik’s point quickly and backed away. ‘Perhaps we can come to an arrangement,’ he blustered. He backed into the desk and reached his hands out blindly. They found a sack and he picked it up. ‘Would this be sufficient?’ He threw the bag to Keshik who caught it and opened it. The glitter of gold reflected in his eyes.

  ‘That will do,’ he said. He shoved the bag inside his jerkin and stooped to pick up Maida. With her dangling limply in his arms, he stalked across the open area and vanished into the alleys.

  42

  ‘Did I do that?’

  Myrrhini could not speak. She simply nodded. It was at least the sixth time Slave had asked the question, and she still could not bring herself to speak to him or move from her cage. The night had passed slowly. Slave had crawled under the wagon at some stage after sunset and laid there, whimpering and crying in the darkness. Myrrhini had not been able to close her eyes as she listened with terror to his every movement, as if at any moment he would crawl out and kill her as he had killed everyone else.

  She knew that no matter how long she lived, the sight of Waarde’s death would haunt her. The utter disregard Slave showed as he smashed into her vulnerable body, the sounds of her bones snapping, the horror of her blood splashing over both Urryk and Slave. The hideous sight of Waarde’s body crumpling like an old sack was burned onto her memory and she felt that nothing could ever erase it.

  Slave stood up, making Myrrhini instinctively cringe further back into her cage, but he walked away, without looking at her. Instead, he made his slow, unsteady way across the blood-spattered snow to examine the strewn bodies. She watched as he stood over each, occasionally stooping to turn one over. He continued until he came to Waarde. At the sight of her shattered figure, he kneeled and lowered his head into his hands, remaining motionless for some time.

  Finally, he lifted his head and reached his hand out towards her, not touching her, before rising again to his feet.

  ‘Time to go,’ he said.

  ‘Where?’ Myrrhini asked.

  Slave looked around, as if the sound of her voice came as a surprise. He frowned.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘But I need to go somewhere. Where were you going before they caught you?’

  Myrrhini stood and walked to the gap in her cage, where Slave had torn the two bars out. She placed her hands on the two straight bars either side of the gap for support and stared at him. ‘I was looking for you,’ she said.

  Slave shook his head and looked around at the carnage. ‘Why?’

  ‘I am Mertian. I had a vision of you.’

  ‘What sort of vision?’

  ‘You will keep me safe from what is to come.’

  ‘It is,’ he hesitated, ‘unwise to be anywhere near me, I think.’

  ‘No, you will keep me safe and protect me.’


  ‘Are you blind, or just stupid?’ Slave gestured with his hands at the bloody massacre. He turned abruptly away from Waarde’s body and made his way towards the wagon where he started to rummage through the slavers’ supplies.

  ‘I have lost count of how many people have called me stupid recently, but I have escaped my captivity, survived the cold, the julle, slavers and now I have survived you,’ Myrrhini told his retreating back, but either he did not hear, or chose to ignore her. She stepped down out of the cage and followed him. After a few steps, she stopped and pulled the arrow out from under her dress. In the light of what she had seen Slave do with iron bars, it looked puny and useless, but it was still a weapon.

  Slave was pulling clothes and food and weapons from the slavers’ supplies, tossing them onto the ground in an untidy heap. Myrrhini kneeled at the pile and started to sort through it. She took blankets, thick clothes and boots, trying not to think about who they all used to belong to, and their end.

  Slave stopped tossing things. He wrapped a blanket around him, slung a bag over his shoulder and walked away without looking back. Myrrhini gathered as much as she could carry and hurried after him.

  When she caught up, he did not even glance at her. She fell into step with him and started to sort through what she had snatched up. Useless items fell as she discarded them, trying to walk quickly and select the best. When she had a blanket around her, a pair of boots — which she pulled on while hopping, keeping up with Slave — a fur-lined hat and a knife tucked into the top of a boot, she let the rest fall to the ground.

  It was then that she thought of food.

  They walked in silence until nightfall. Slave maintained the same pace all day, allowing Myrrhini to fall behind on occasion so that when he finally stopped, she was a hundred paces or so behind him. The weather and the scene had not changed at all — it stayed grey, with overcast skies lowering over a bleak, snow-covered plain. Wind whistled down from the Wastes beyond the forests to the north, bringing with it the taste of ice. By the time Myrrhini caught up with Slave, he was lying down on the snow with a blanket under him and another one over him. She lifted the side of his blanket and slid in next to him.

 

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