by T. A. White
Witt nodded. They’d never make it if each tried to save the other. But if they focused on their opportunity, the odds increased greatly.
Seeing Damon standing with his hands on his hips looking at the tree where he left her, she knew she didn’t have much time left. She rose to a crouch in front of Dane and gave him a hug before doing the same with Witt.
She patted Witt on the calf, slipping her knife into his boot as she drew away. The blade was one of two she kept on her person at all times. Damon hadn’t taken the time to search her when he picked her up. Probably thought because she was female she was harmless. His ignorance; her gain.
Witt’s eyes were unreadable as they held hers for a long moment, knowing the risk she’d just taken. She smiled at him, the grin lighting up her face like a ray of sunshine after a cloudy day. Then it was gone. A twinkle still lingered as if inviting him to share a private joke. His lips tilted up at the corners.
She was yanked to her feet and hauled off.
“She was hugging them. Search their hands to see if she slipped them anything.” Damon tossed over his shoulder as he marched her back to her tree. He sat her down and started wrapping rope around her wrists. “I thought I told you to stay here.”
Shea watched him work silently.
“Well?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “I assumed ‘here’ meant inside camp.”
A vein pulsed in his forehead as he tried to stare her down. He took a deep breath and the tension in his body just fell away.
“You knew what I meant.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Why were you over there?”
She shrugged.
“Why?”
She sighed loudly. “Saying goodbye.”
“What makes you think you won’t see them again?”
She snorted. “I don’t know where we’re going, but from your talk it sounds like there’ll be a lot of people. As it’s unlikely you’ll keep us together, I thought I’d say my goodbyes while I still could.”
“Uh huh,” Damon said skeptically, raising both eyebrows.
She met his eyes steadfastly, not wanting him to assume deception if she avoided his gaze.
“Did you know people are twice as likely to hold your eyes if they’re lying? Otherwise they tend to avoid direct eye contact.”
She frowned. Wasn’t avoiding a person’s eyes a sign of deception?
He gave an abrupt laugh. He didn’t believe her story at all. “Guess Fallon and Darius were telling the truth. You have a little bit of fire in you after all.” He took the rope, wrapped it around the tree and then looped it around her chest. He repeated this several times before tying it off. “I’ll have to keep a closer eye on you for the rest of our journey. Wouldn’t want you to slip away before you meet Fallon again.”
Great. She could hardly wait.
Chapter Six
Shea’s breath caught as they crested a ridge and a sprawling encampment came into view.
A vast number of tents clustered together, concealing the land with their mixed shades of tan, gray and white. The less frequent vibrant red, blue and greens stood out in stark contrast.
There weren’t hundreds of warriors down there. There were thousands. This wasn’t the small number of men she had assumed they would find.
No way was this a raiding party that would eventually make their way back to their own lands. This was a full scale invasion force.
The Lowlands were lost. It was just a matter of time.
The encampment was set in a small valley surrounded on two sides by steep hills. It wasn’t where she would have chosen to bed down for the night with an element of this size. For one thing, there were only two easy exits. That wasn’t necessarily bad as it limited the direction an enemy could attack from. But the camp was located a bit too far up river, which would make getting drinkable water difficult once thousands of men got done polluting it with their waste. They should have made camp at the opposite end of the valley, that way their waste would travel down river, and they could walk up the valley for clean water.
Shea grabbed for the horse’s neck as it moved under her. The beast followed the stallion in front of it, beginning the journey down into the valley.
Nine days had passed since Goodwin of Ria betrayed Shea’s group to the Trateri. That first night had set the tone for the ones to follow. Every night, once they made camp, Damon tied Shea to a tree while he attended to his own matters. When meal time came around, he untied her, let her eat and take care of personal business and then retied her to the tree, leaving a blanket over her for warmth against the cool nights. In the morning, he’d come for her, and they’d ride together until it was time to make camp again.
She was beginning to hate sleeping sitting up.
A chance to speak with Witt and Dane never came again and neither did an opportunity to escape.
Now they were about to join the main army and butterflies were swarming in Shea’s stomach. She hadn’t counted on such a big force. Perhaps she shouldn’t have waited to escape.
Too late now.
As they made their way into the transient city, it became obvious there was order to the chaos. The Trateri had spaced their tents far enough apart to create pathways. Banners containing images of animals, plants and objects flapped from poles at the entrance of each tent.
Most of the bigger tents had hitching posts hammered into the ground off to the side. The ones that didn’t had young boys or girls waiting to hold the horse of any visiting warriors. It was an efficient way to take care of the animals and keep the young ones out of mischief.
Nightfall was still hours away, but campfires already flickered in the cleared areas. Men and women lounged or stood around them, not paying attention to the group riding in.
Several fires had pots suspended above them. The tantalizing smell of food made Shea’s stomach grumble, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since lunch. It was past time for dinner, but they’d been so close to their destination that the Trateri had refused to stop for a break.
“Don’t worry; we’ll feed you once we dismount,” Damon said. He’d been quiet all day, not trying to entice her into conversation as he normally did.
Maybe he could sense Shea’s nerves and was giving her space to process things. She’d feel more grateful if he hadn’t insisted on tying her up every night.
“One thing I didn’t miss was all these damn people,” Damon groused as he steered his horse around a group arguing in the middle of the thoroughfare.
“There are women here,” Shea said with faint surprise. They’d passed several on the way into camp. Most carried weapons and were dressed in the same leather armor as the men.
Damon snorted. “Of course there are women. Did you think all Trateri were men?”
“Not at all. It’s just most Lowlanders and Highlander’s don’t allow their women to take part in war, and they certainly don’t let them become warriors.”
“Then they’re fools. Women are some of the most vicious fighters I’ve ever seen and can be just as capable as any man.”
“Makes sense. In nature, the female is likely to be the meaner one of the species, especially when it comes to the young,” Shea said.
“Not all of our women or men are warriors. There are many roles in our society. We would be starving if there were no cooks. We would lose every battle if there was no one to make our weapons. We leave it up to the individual to decide which of their skills they feel would provide the greatest benefit to their clan.”
Shea’s guild had much the same view about the roles of men and women. If you had the talent and skill to do your job, it was yours. It didn’t matter what reproductive organs you had. It surprised her that the Trateri held some of the same beliefs.
The pace had slowed to a crawl as the group pushed further into the heart of the encampment. Gradually, the path narrowed and became congested with people and horses.
“Move with a purpose, you maggot infested swine!” Damon shouted at a pair that
were trying to figure out where they needed to go.
That wouldn’t have been so bad, but then they decided what they were looking for wasn’t in that direction. They tried to turn their horses, creating a jam that quickly became a shoving match.
“You can’t turn here.” Damon made a rude gesture. “Keep going until the next juncture and take one of the other avenues.”
The two didn’t seem inclined to listen and tried to pull their mounts around. Darius growled and surged forward, forcing people to move or be trampled. He cuffed both young men on the side of the head, grabbed the reins of both horses and rode forward, forcing the beasts to ride after him.
Damon and three others followed quickly while the rest of the party, including the one containing Shea’s men, peeled off to follow a side road.
Time was ticking down as the confrontation with Fallon drew near.
Darius guided his horse to a side street and took it to another where he turned right. After several of these narrower paths, they rode into a wide-open area that was relatively unpopulated compared to the main road they just left.
He dismounted before a tent that was twice the width of those on the main road and considerably taller. Shea noticed most of the surrounding domiciles were larger than the ones they had passed but smaller than this one.
A deep blue banner with an embroidered phoenix in rebirth marked the entrance. An awning stretched out from the opening, creating a small strip of shade. If they’d been allowed to speak, the two warriors standing guard would probably have voiced appreciation for the tiny oasis shielding them from the blazing afternoon sun.
That was all Shea had time to notice before she was pulled from the horse. She caught a brief glance of the warriors’ curious stares before she was pushed inside.
A variety of candles illuminated the interior, showing that the ground was covered by rugs. So many that one couldn’t see the natural grass and dirt beneath. A table meant for dining, with a half dozen chairs surrounding it, was off to one side. Several sitting areas were dotted throughout the rest of the room. The ceiling had open flaps as did two of the walls to create air flow.
There was no sign of Fallon. Darius and the other three were the only people in the tent.
Shea felt the tightness in her shoulders relax just a little.
Her relief was short lived as Damon guided her past Darius and to the back of the tent, which she finally noticed had been partitioned off with a large canvas wall. He shoved her through the flaps. She glanced around as he pulled her over to a large wooden post located in the middle of the tiny area.
He bent, picked up a chain and then spun her around to face him. Before she could back away, he grabbed her wrists, clapping the iron manacles around them.
“What’s this?” Shea looked at the length of chain now securing her to the post. She lifted a wrist. The chain rose with it.
“You’ll wait here until Fallon arrives. This way you can’t run off.”
“So much drama for one woman. What would I do even if I did escape? There’s thousands of warriors out there. I wouldn’t get very far before I was caught.”
He shrugged and turned to leave. “Maybe so, but you’ve got a reputation. I don’t want to be the guy responsible for losing you. Just stay put. Fallon will figure out what he wants done when he gets here.”
He disappeared back to the other side of the tent.
As soon as he was out of sight, Shea bent to examine her bindings. There was a small keyhole on each manacle and a four-inch chain ran between her wrists. She had never been good at picking locks. She also didn’t have the necessary tools.
Trying to slip her wrists out of the cuff didn’t work. Her hands were too big, and she wasn’t quite desperate enough that she was willing to dislocate her thumbs.
Shea sighed. Standing took energy so she sat and leaned against the post. Anybody who spent a lot of time walking knew that when you had the chance to sit, you made the most of it because you never knew when you’d get to take a seat again.
Closer examination of her circumstances didn’t fill her with confidence. The post she found herself chained to was thicker than her waist. An experimental yank on the chain didn’t budge it. It had likely been pounded several feet into the ground. Trying to pull it up would be pointless.
She stared sightlessly at the canvas across from her.
This was quite the situation in which she found herself. Her party had been captured, the others forced to serve the Trateri. The kicker was she had been the one to rescue the army’s Warlord from death.
She was now separated from her group and had failed at creating a chance for them or herself to escape. The best part were that her maps were also still in the enemies’ possession.
That brought her to the present. Chained to a post, waiting to meet this man she had saved, and no hope for rescue or escape.
Perhaps the guild elders were right when they said she suffered from a serious lack of judgment.
Shea hoped the others would be all right. She hoped she would be all right.
She stretched her legs out and tilted her head back. And back.
She blinked. Then smiled.
Unlike the rest of the tent’s flexible, wooden supports, her post wasn’t bound to another at the top by hemp or groove. As thick as her waist, its base had been buried deep in the ground, making it impossible for anyone with normal strength to pull it free. This meant its top was free of any obstructions. And since her chain was looped rather than bolted into the post, there was a chance she could climb it. A very small chance, but a chance.
She came to her feet, her eyes glued on the top of the post. That spot meant freedom, and she was determined to reach it. If she could get the chain over the top, she could slip it free. Her hands would still be bound together, but she’d be able to move. To run. She could escape and worry about freeing herself from the manacles later.
A low rumble of voices filtered into her space, but so far no one had checked in on her. As long as they stayed in the front area, she might be able to pull this off.
With a rising sense of excitement, she wrapped her arms around the post and leapt up while trying to wrap her legs around it. Her legs banged into the canvas wall and rebounded off. Unable to support her weight with just her arms, she slid back down to the ground.
“Son of a bitch,” she swore softly before turning her eyes towards the partition. And waited.
When the conversation behind the wall continued without pause, she figured nobody was coming to check in on her.
Her next two attempts met with similar results. There wasn’t enough room to wrap her legs around it.
And time was running out. Each minute brought the confrontation with Fallon just a little bit closer.
The chain binding her hands didn’t help either. Vexed, she pulled at it, causing it to clank up the pole just a little bit. She frowned slightly as she did it again. She grasped the end and lifted it to chest level, holding the chain taught so it remained there.
She cocked her head as she studied it. That might work.
When she was younger and still in her apprenticeship, she had visited the forest of giants in the northwestern edge of the Lowlands. The trees there were so tall that it was impossible to see the top if you were standing at its base. The crowns were concealed from view on very cloudy days. The people there said giants must have tended them as saplings. Only a giant would have been able to enjoy the splendors in the trees’ canopy.
For those living there today, they wrapped long chains around the tree’s base and used the resulting tension to walk up it. She hoped to do something similar.
She didn’t even get a foot off the ground on her first try.
She stood back and bit her lip. How was she to do this? How exactly could a chain be used to climb?
Her eyebrows furrowing, she gathered the extra chain in her hands, placed one foot on the wood and leaned back creating a nice tension in the metal links. Slowly and being careful
to not let the chain slacken, she lifted her other foot off the floor and placed it on the post. Her breath exhaled in a whoosh as she stayed in place. She picked up the bottom foot and moved it up, then she loosened the chains and quickly moved her arms up, taking the chain with it before leaning back once more. Another foot gained.
Her destination was about eight feet off the ground. Six feet off the ground and her arms shook with the strain, her abs screamed, and her legs trembled. It looked so much easier when the forest people did this.
Every inch she gained required a herculean amount of effort and sapped her strength further. She was breathing hard by the time she was within a foot of the top. Sweat dripped down her neck as she paused within inches of reaching her destination.
She hadn’t considered what she would do once she got to the top.
At the moment, she was using the chain to anchor herself above the ground, but once she slipped it over the top, there would be nothing holding her in place. She would fall. Probably make a lot of noise and be recaptured in short order.
The chain rattled as she forced it higher. She didn’t care. She’d come all this way and wasn’t about to quit now. As the chain slipped over the top, Shea lost her balance. Her arms jerked over her head as they were caught by the chain’s anchor. She dangled several feet above the ground.
Wondering why she hadn’t plummeted straight to the ground, she looked up to find the loop caught on the top of the post.
If Fallon came in right this minute, he’d see what she was up to, and she didn’t really want to think about what would happen next. Not after Paul’s beating.
Setting a foot against the pole, she pushed off and tried to jerk the chain free. The scrape of metal against wood was as loud as a shout in the enclosed space. Once again, she checked to make sure nobody was coming before trying again.
Using her core, she tried to jack knife up and away. With a crack the chain slithered loose, and Shea landed on her back. The impact forced the breath from her lungs. She blinked up at the ceiling as she gulped at the suddenly thin air.
