it narrowed, she
looked around to find them walking along a manicured garden path
bordered by hedges. Her keeper had noticed her gaze and jabbed her
in the ribs again. She gasped at the pain and almost doubled over.
The man’s grip on her bound hands propelled her forward. “Move
wench,” he hissed. “Or I will bruise your pretty face too.” He
snickered. “Ogert might do that anyway, just to annoy Darius.”
“What did Darius do to him?” She asked as
soon as she could manage.
“Silence!” Something hard struck her across
her shoulders bringing her to her knees on the gravel. A cold metal
edge pressed against her chin lifting it and the leader’s icy eyes
bore into hers. “Hostages speak only when asked a direct question.”
His voice made her want to shiver, but if she did, the blade would
cut her. Clenching the muscles of her back, she prayed for
strength.
Apparently satisfied that she understood, the
leader withdrew the blade and started again to stride down the
path. Brice had a brief glimpse of the large fortress they were
approaching before being dragged to her feet again. The prodding
and gloating of her keeper continued until she stumbled up wide
stone steps. They passed through a large door, which Ogert barred
behind them and Brice was allowed to sink to her knees once more.
The cold of the entrance hall tiled floor instantly began to seep
into her legs. Lysa was shoved down a short ways away and the
moment the men’s back were turned, she moved to Brice’s side and
leaned against her. Brice had not the heart to tell child that her
weight was hurting her ribs. As much as she strained her ears, she
could not hear the men’s conversation.
After the brief whispered conference among
the four, the leader strode off down one of the main halls and
disappeared. Hameal ordered her and Lysa to their feet. Obediently
they struggled up, but they both received a jab for good
measure.
The men herded them down a long sub-corridor
and up three long flights of steep stairs. Just when Brice was
certain her legs were going to give out if she saw another stair,
they turned off into another wider passage. Stopping before a set
of great double doors, Hameal pushed in front, produced an ornate
key from the purse at his waist, and opened the doors. Brice caught
a glimpse of light on metal and then the cord binding her hands
fell away. “Inside,” he ordered before shoving Brice hard between
the shoulders. Unable to keep her balance, she was propelled into
the dark room and landed face first on a surprisingly soft carpet.
With a cry, Lysa landed a few feet to her right. The doors were
closed firmly and the latch caught. Then, with a loud hollow clunk,
the bolt slid home.
Not waiting to see if Jarn followed or not,
Darius started to run. Each footfall jarred his wounded arm, but he
ignored it. Catching up with the kidnappers was more important. He
spotted them in the Kiylin gardens. Moving from shadow to shadow he
kept them in his sight only dimly aware that Jarn was following on
his heels. He was surprised when they stopped abruptly and Ogert
turned around. He struck Brice across the shoulders with the flat
of his sword. A violent anger rose in Darius as she fell to her
knees under the blow. Realizing he could do nothing without
destroying any chance of rescuing her later, Darius held himself in
check. “Ogert is going to pay for that,” he muttered as he watched
helplessly. The traitor was forcing her to raise her eyes to his
face and saying something to her. Just the thought of the sharp
edge of the man’s sword so close to her throat was making his heart
race.
“Is he going to kill her?” Jarn’s voice
asked.
“No,” Darius answered in a rough voice. “If
he did, he would have nothing to hurt me with. Ogert knows me too
well to do that.”
“You know that man?” The surprise in Jarn’s
voice was unmistakable.
“Yes,” Darius admitted. Beyond them, Brice
was forced to her feet again. Darius
looked around to find them walking along a manicured garden path
bordered by hedges. Her keeper had noticed her gaze and jabbed her
in the ribs again. She gasped at the pain and almost doubled over.
The man’s grip on her bound hands propelled her forward. “Move
wench,” he hissed. “Or I will bruise your pretty face too.” He
snickered. “Ogert might do that anyway, just to annoy Darius.”
“What did Darius do to him?” She asked as
soon as she could manage.
“Silence!” Something hard struck her across
her shoulders bringing her to her knees on the gravel. A cold metal
edge pressed against her chin lifting it and the leader’s icy eyes
bore into hers. “Hostages speak only when asked a direct question.”
His voice made her want to shiver, but if she did, the blade would
cut her. Clenching the muscles of her back, she prayed for
strength.
Apparently satisfied that she understood, the
leader withdrew the blade and started again to stride down the
path. Brice had a brief glimpse of the large fortress they were
approaching before being dragged to her feet again. The prodding
and gloating of her keeper continued until she stumbled up wide
stone steps. They passed through a large door, which Ogert barred
behind them and Brice was allowed to sink to her knees once more.
The cold of the entrance hall tiled floor instantly began to seep
into her legs. Lysa was shoved down a short ways away and the
moment the men’s back were turned, she moved to Brice’s side and
leaned against her. Brice had not the heart to tell child that her
weight was hurting her ribs. As much as she strained her ears, she
could not hear the men’s conversation.
After the brief whispered conference among
the four, the leader strode off down one of the main halls and
disappeared. Hameal ordered her and Lysa to their feet. Obediently
they struggled up, but they both received a jab for good
measure.
The men herded them down a long sub-corridor
and up three long flights of steep stairs. Just when Brice was
certain her legs were going to give out if she saw another stair,
they turned off into another wider passage. Stopping before a set
of great double doors, Hameal pushed in front, produced an ornate
key from the purse at his waist, and opened the doors. Brice caught
a glimpse of light on metal and then the cord binding her hands
fell away. “Inside,” he ordered before shoving Brice hard between
the shoulders. Unable to keep her balance, she was propelled into
the dark room and landed face first on a surprisingly soft carpet.
With a cry, Lysa landed a few feet to her right. The doors were
closed firmly and the latch caught. Then, with a loud hollow clunk,
the bolt slid home.
Not waiting to see if Jarn followed or not,
Darius started to run. Each footfall jarred his wounded arm, but he
ignored it. Catching up with the kidnappers was more important. He
spotted them in the Kiylin gardens. Moving from shadow to shadow he
kept them in his sight only dimly aware that Jarn was following on
his heels. He was surprised when they stopped abruptly and Ogert
turned around. He struck Brice across the shoulders with the flat
of his sword. A violent anger rose in Darius as she fell to her
knees under the blow. Realizing he could do nothing without
destroying any chance of rescuing her later, Darius held himself in
check. “Ogert is going to pay for that,” he muttered as he watched
helplessly. The traitor was forcing her to raise her eyes to his
face and saying something to her. Just the thought of the sharp
edge of the man’s sword so close to her throat was making his heart
race.
“Is he going to kill her?” Jarn’s voice
asked.
“No,” Darius answered in a rough voice. “If
he did, he would have nothing to hurt me with. Ogert knows me too
well to do that.”
“You know that man?” The surprise in Jarn’s
voice was unmistakable.
“Yes,” Darius admitted. Beyond them, Brice
was forced to her feet again. Darius
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