by Jb Mcdonald
Someone wrenched one arm behind his back, and then the other. He tried to kick his legs, but couldn't be sure they even moved. His vision blurred. Objects extended. He closed his eyes to keep from getting sick, and felt rope bind his wrists together.
When the weight moved off his back, he tried to run again. He hit the ground several times but never seemed to rise. Hands at his legs. Rope binding his ankles. Cloth yanked down off his face, blunt fingers digging painfully into his jaw. He couldn't stop it from opening. Someone shoved scratchy material into his mouth, nearly gagging him. The cloth was yanked back up to hold it in place. He was pretty sure that the world twisted and swirled because he'd been picked up.
Pretty sure, but not positive.
***
"He should have been back by now," Katsu growled.
Eddie didn't disagree. Katsu's dark eyes twitched to fix on her, then back to his hand of cards. Neither of them were paying attention to the game. Both of them had been watching the door.
Still no sign of Ashe.
"Even if things had gone wrong, and he'd gotten lost, and then he'd gotten mugged, he should be back by now," Katsu continued.
Eddie looked at the clock standing in one corner of the room. It had been four hours since Ashe had walked out to get the eggs. They'd eaten lunch, explored the streets between the tavern and the club, talked to the club's servants to see if Ashe had left. Eddie had even crept into the club's stables, and inside found Ashe's horse. Now they were back at the tavern, trying to come up with a plan and decide if this was a natural delay or something sinister.
Eddie folded her cards together and set them down. "We need to go back for the others."
Katsu's lips pursed. He stared at his cards as if they'd tell him everything he needed to know. "There's no time. Even riding hard, it's a day out and a day back. Something's wrong now, and Byron leaves in the morning."
Eddie shuffled her hand and spread the cards back out. "Byron leaving tomorrow might be to our advantage. He's practically fortified where he is, but if he leaves, then he'll have to leave Ashe here. Or he'll be on the road with Ashe, and we've taken caravans before."
"You heard what the chambermaid said. Byron practically travels with an army. He expects raids. He's carting a fortune." Katsu looked out over the taproom, but Eddie doubted he really saw anything going on. "Besides, if he decided it was cheaper just to kill Ashe and take the eggs--"
"Then we might already be too late, and there's no harm in fetching the others," Eddie cut in.
Katsu shook his head. Tiny movements one way and then the other, barely a head shake at all. "Or he's sprawled out poisoned or bleeding somewhere, and running out of time."
Eddie shuffled her cards again, picking up the deck and tapping them all together. She leaned across the rickety table, steadied it when it rocked toward her, and stared hard at Katsu. "Two of us alone can't do much. Even if Ashe is bleeding out somewhere, we aren't going to be able to find him without help. Even if we knew where he was, we wouldn't be able to get to him without a lot of manpower and some serious plans."
Katsu closed his eyes for a moment. His brows knit together as if he were in pain, and finally he leaned toward her as well, opening his eyes to fix her with an intense stare. "I can't just ride out of here without him. Not even knowing I'll be coming back. Too many things could happen in between."
Eddie studied him, trying to gauge where his interests lay, how she could convince him. For a moment, his mask slipped. Cracks appeared, letting emotions bleed through where she could see them. Worry -- no, fear. Helplessness. A defeated certainty. Determination.
Eddie sat back, mulling through options and new information. She didn't think she could drag Katsu away. He sat back as well, his cards stacked in front of him. Eddie collected them up, shuffled them into the deck, and pulled the top card.
Jack of spades, with a sickle blade. She slid it back into the middle. "All right. You stay here. I'll ride. I'll try and be back with the others in the early morning, before Byron is ready to leave. Don't do anything stupid. Just watch him, and if he does try to leave... I don't know. Delay him somehow. Break an axle on one of his wagons." Her chair screeched across the wood floor as she pushed back and stood, looking around. "We'll get you a room."
"What am I going to do in a room?" Katsu muttered darkly.
"You're going to keep from doing anything stupid." Eddie glared at Katsu as if she could force him to maintain his composure by will alone. "We may need a medic, and we're going to have a hell of a time saving both you and Ashe. I'm serious, Katsu. Don't be dumb."
He stood as well, movements stiff. "You can't expect me to do nothing all night. I can at least ask around. I can't just sit here while he could be dying somewhere--" Katsu cut off, visibly restraining himself. His hands curled into knots at his sides. Then, as he took a deep breath, they relaxed. When he looked at Eddie again, his mask was back in place, impassive and impervious. "I'll be smart. You get back here with the others quickly."
Eddie studied him for a long moment, but if there was anything to be read in his expression, it was far too subtle for her. "I will," she said at last.
It took only a few minutes to hail the tavern keeper and negotiate for a night's stay. Another few minutes to collect Katsu's belongings from his horse and pay for the horse and packhorse's overnight lodging in the stable. Eddie tightened her girth and bridled her mare, eying the sun. It was past midday, but not by too much. The sun hadn't fallen far. She mounted, wheeling her horse around to face Katsu once more. "We should be back no later than lunch tomorrow. Try and delay him leaving until then. Hopefully he'll have lots to load up and won't even try to leave earlier."
Katsu nodded wordlessly, tight-lipped.
Eddie hesitated, then made a decision. "Ashe thinks you're using him for sex. I think he's wrong."
Confusion crossed Katsu's features, followed by swift comprehension and vague annoyance. "I wouldn't let him stick around if I -- this isn't the time. Get out of here and get back."
Eddie nodded, spun her horse, and took off as fast as she could through the crowded city.
***
Ashe didn't know how long he'd been there. Long enough for the drug to wear off. Long enough for his ankles and wrists, bound tightly behind his back, to chafe. At first he'd heard voices, but whether they were real or drug-induced he wasn't sure. Now there was only silence.
He lay on his side on a metal slab, downward shoulder aching. Wriggling around earlier had brought bars into view with a heavy cloth drape outside them. Faint light trickled under the bottom edge of the drape, but no amount of prodding had done anything, and he couldn't get the leverage needed to pull.
He flexed his fingers, trying to keep blood flowing into them as they began to go numb. He'd shouted earlier, but the gag was too well done. Any noise he made was muffled into a blunted yell, and the effort only winded him -- dangerous, when he couldn't gulp air. He'd spent several fuzzy minutes sucking air through his nose, which was half blocked by the folds of the gag.
It was impossible to sleep, though given low light levels and the overall quiet Ashe figured night had fallen. He counted hours. Twelve hours of lazy riding over two days to get here. They could have made it in eight hours. Eight hours to get back to the others after Katsu and Eddie realized something was wrong. An hour to mobilize and another eight for the best riders to get to the city. Seventeen hours before rescue arrived, and that assuming Katsu and Eddie had left right away.
So say twenty or more, before they'd realize something was wrong, before they'd return for a rescue. He had no idea how many hours had already passed. The whole day, he was relatively certain. Surely it wouldn't be so dark or quiet if people were awake.
They'd arrived in the city around lunchtime. It had likely been mid-afternoon before Katsu and Eddie went for help. Ashe's heart sank. They'd be lucky to return by noon -- and surely Byron's caravan would leave before then.
Ashe tried to convince himself they coul
d find him on the road. That his friends would somehow know he was still with Byron, not dead in an alley somewhere, and would effect an escape. He couldn't keep his heart from sinking, though. It just wasn't likely. Caravan guards would stop them, even if they didn't spend too much time looking for him in the city and set out right away. Nate wouldn't allow the whole crew to be slaughtered rescuing him, and that's what it would come down to. Byron could always claim they were bandits who'd attacked; the law was on his side. Even if they proved Ashe was being held against his will, they'd have to do it before the caravan crossed over the border into Diwegol. Slavery was legal, with certain provisions, across all the provinces, but in lands where dwarves were far more common than elves, and no love was lost between those races, they wouldn't side with Ashe instead of a wealthy merchant -- despite suspicious circumstances.
The thought made Ashe renew his struggles. He hated riding this close to the border. He especially hated being tied up and kidnapped.
Fear stirred in his chest, though he'd managed to fight it down earlier. He strained at his bonds, even pouring magic into his skin to protect it from rope, then into his muscles to add strength. All the strength in the world wasn't enough to snap his ties, though. Ashe bellowed into his gag, mostly out of sheer frustration, and heard an animal growl in response not too far away.
He lay still for a moment, catching his breath. The gag reeked of sweat not his own, and was gritty against his tongue. He'd tried pushing the ball of cloth out of his mouth, but it was held in place by the material wrapped around his face. He'd tried rubbing that off, but only ended up rubbing his cheek raw.
Ashe yelled again, kicking both feet against the bars of his cage. It got no response except the hammering of his heart, the rustling of other animals, and more silence.
He sagged in his cage, defeated, sucking in air through his nose. It whistled past the gag. Sweat dampened his brow and under his arms. Fear made it potent.
If Eddie and Katsu were going to mount a rescue on their own, it would be happening now, under cover of dark. He didn't know how two people would break into somewhere so heavily guarded, find him, break him out, and escape with no one the wiser. Better to go get Nate. A force of mercenaries might be able to stop a caravan awkwardly leaving a city. They could create distractions so one person could break in and get to Ashe. They could overpower the guards, send up an alarm, call in the militia.
A group of mercenaries could do all sorts of things. Assuming they got here in time.
Ashe really didn't want to be a slave. Some rich man's exotic servant, as he guessed would be the case in lands without elves. Even worse, he'd heard that there were lands without magic, where creatures half human and half demon ruled and anyone unlike them was enslaved or killed. He really didn't want to go there.
He twisted his wrists again, yanking at the ropes until he felt blood sliding down his hands. It was no use; the rope was too tight. Ashe lay limp against the cage floor, pressing his face against the cool metal. The world was spinning again, though he couldn't say if it was from drugs or a lack of air or good, old-fashioned fear.
They had to come for him soon.
***
It came as some surprise to Ashe to realize he'd dozed off. He woke with a lurch at the sound of voices. Footsteps. A door opening and closing, the speakers suddenly louder.
Ashe yelled and kicked the bars of his cage again, setting up a racket made louder when the animals nearby started protesting as well.
The curtain hanging over his cage whipped away, and he blinked painfully in the sudden light. "Shut up," one of the guards-cum-servants snapped, and banged Ashe's cage with a staff, setting up a ringing that hummed right through Ashe's bones.
Ashe yelled again, kicking back. The servant knelt, moving with an unexpected swiftness. One hand clamped painfully on Ashe's ankles, yanking him closer. The other reached between the bars and grabbed his tunic, dragging him over and slamming him against the side of the cage. Leaning close, the servant practically whispered. "It is too early for this sort of ruckus. Behave yourself."
His breath reeked of stale beer and onions. Ashe pulled away uselessly, a slow ache building where he'd been slammed against the metal. The guard let him go and stood, picking up his dropped staff and walking away.
There were no windows in the room, but with the cloth removed he could see planes of glass set in the ceiling. Light filtered through; it was very early morning.
Ashe's heart sank. There was no way his crew could arrive so soon, and from the number of guards coming through the door and hauling cages and crates out, it wouldn't be long before the caravan left.
Surely, though, all of these guards and porters couldn't be comfortable kidnapping people. Ashe set up another ruckus, trying to get any attention he could. It came to an end, though, when one porter leaned toward another, both of them watching him, and single word was murmured.
"Thief."
Gagged, Ashe couldn't argue, and his vehement head shake met only disdain.
The sky above the glass panels was only slightly brighter by the time the last half dozen cages were carted out. The goods had gone first, the animals second. Only a few items were left; Ashe himself, the griffon, a flight of brightly colored creatures too small and quick to easily name. The dragon eggs were being carefully re-packed into a crate stuffed with straw. That was the first time Ashe saw Byron again, entering to make sure the eggs were cared for properly. Ashe yelled some more, and hoped they couldn't hear his desperation behind his gag.
Byron glanced at him once, then paid him no more heed.
Two men came in, lifting the delicate cage full of quick little creatures and carrying it with extreme care out the door, leaving only the griffon, the eggs, and Ashe.
And no sign of a rescue. The sky above the glass was still a raw pink. Too early for any chance that the mercenaries would arrive. Byron's caravan would have hours on them, guards already settled into place, creating a traveling fortress. If they hadn't crossed the border by the time the mercenaries caught up, they wouldn't be far from it. There would be no rescue if it didn't happen soon.
Ashe yanked at his ties again, half frantic. Rope rubbed his flesh painfully, tore it, and swelled as it absorbed his blood. He dislocated both thumbs trying to pull his hands free, but the widening of even his willowy palms was too much. The binds were too tight.
"I don't want him scarred," Byron said, sounding irritated. Ashe looked up to see one of the guards give him a frustrated look, then leave the room. Ashe glared at Byron, filling the look with as much hate as he could, and kept yanking at his hands. He poured magic into them, dulling pain receptors, strengthening muscles.
The guard walked back in, dabbing liquid from a deep brown bottle onto a scrap of cloth. He moved purposefully for Ashe's cage.
Ashe paused, taking in the sight, the intention. Then he renewed his efforts, twisting to fling himself into the center of the cage so they couldn't just grab him. They'd have to open it. He'd have a chance -- he had to make a chance, because if they drugged him again he'd never be able to escape.
The guard opened the cage. Ashe still didn't have his hands free, wasn't even close. He kicked out, giving a muffled yelp when the guard stomped down on his ankles to pin them in place. The guard bent, grabbed him by the hair, and hauled him partially upright.
Ashe poured more magic into his blood, not sure what he could do with it but knowing he had to do something. He struggled, though it was almost useless. The guard clamped the cloth over his nose. Ashe held his breath. He tried to wrench his face away, but held up by a hand in the braids at the back of his skull, he couldn't twist far. He couldn't do much of anything; even his legs were still pinned down by a boot on his ankles. The cloth went with him, no matter how much effort he put into turning his head.
Magic pulsed through him again, a temporary substitute for air as his lungs started to burn. His eyes watered, and as the magic lost some of its potency, agony slid in beside it. His lungs con
tracted. Against his will Ashe gasped, choked on the gag, and dragged a breath through his nose.
Chemicals set him to coughing, painfully when the air couldn't expel past the cloth ball in his mouth. The world swam for more reasons than drugs, and every ragged inhalation sent him into more abortive hacking.
He couldn't get enough air. The magic bled away. The world spun and went fuzzy, narrowed down to the effort to breathe. Pain lanced through him even as he realized the damp cloth was no longer over his nose. His lungs calmed. The coughing fit eased and went away. The whole world floated, far away, too distant to reach, somewhere with the fear that still lurked.
Emotions came back slowly, as did awareness. His cage was closed and locked. They'd taken the griffon. The lid to the dragon egg crate was being tapped on carefully, four men standing nearby to carry it off. He blinked, and came back to the world to see the curtain back on his cage, to feel movement.
Fear stabbed through the drug haze. He tried to call out for help, and heard only the faintest whimper before his eyes closed again.
Then they were moving.
***
"What do you mean, he's gone?"
Eddie watched the tavern keeper rear away from Nate and almost felt sorry for the man. She wouldn't want to be faced with Nate, the entire towering hulk of him with his scowling visage, the salt and pepper beard ghosting over coal-dark skin. He was scary when he had gotten a good nights' sleep and wasn't worried about a member of his crew. Right now he looked more like a furious demigod than a man.
The tavern keeper spread his hands harmlessly. "He left this morning, at first light. Asked me for a list of physikers and herbalists before he went. I can make you the same list."
"Do so," Nate growled. The tavern keeper backed off far enough to doubtlessly think he was out of range, then glared at Nate and marched away to get writing utensils. Nate turned to Eddie, his anger leashed. "Go to the stables. Find out what he took and what he left. I'll meet you there."
