Hunter's Bounty (Veller) by Garry Spoor

for a moment. The door closed and the sound of bare feet on cold stone got closer. She slumped down against her chains. Her only defense was to keep faking her condition, at least until she could find a way out. The shackles bit into her wrist but she knew it was better than the alternative.
    Someone or something jingled a set of keys that opened the door to her cell, but she was in no condition to take advantage of the situation. They tossed in a bowl of what their idea of food was, along with a few choice words before locking the door again. The bowl landed, not far from her feet, tipping to one side and releasing a thick gray slug onto the floor. Even if she was hungry enough to eat it, she had no way of actually reaching it. She couldn’t identify what was in the bowl or even understand what her jailer had said to her each day for the last five days, but each time he said it, he seemed more determined and she knew that her time was running out. She would have to find a way to escape, but escape wasn’t going to be easy. The cell door shouldn’t be a problem if she could get the keys away from her jailer, she would need Reginald’s help with that, and finding her way out of the stronghold, or was it a keep, would be tricky at best, but she had a firm idea of the layout even if it was from a skewed point of view. All she had to do was find a way to get out of the shackles, and that was where her master plan met its demise.
    The shackles had been welded closed, sealed around her wrist. There was no key to unlock them since there was no lock. Who ever had chained her to the wall had no intention of letting her leave any time soon.
    The last thing she could remember was knocking on Mr. Draw’s door, and the horrid smell that filled the air. She couldn’t identify it at that time, but she knew it now. It was the scent, or should that be the stench, of the uhyre. If that was true, and the guttural sounds of the guard’s voice seemed to support that scenario, then she must be somewhere in the wastelands, the only thing she didn’t know was why.
    She had played over the various scenarios in her head, trying to make each piece of the puzzle fit and then filling in the blank spaces with simple speculation. She knew whoever was behind this was not of the uhyre, but a vir. The man that opened the door of the cabin had spoken to her in the Royal tongue, as far as she knew, none of the uhyre spoke the king’s language, or at least not that clearly. He also knew something about Hunters, since he must have been the one to send the message, knowing that a higher priority package would supersede the temporary freeze on common deliveries. Then there was the fact that her food had been tainted. She was able to detect that the first night she was here simply by the smell. They were trying to keep her sedated, more than likely out of fear of what her edge could do. Even in keeping her hands apart, they showed some knowledge of the mystic arts, since more complicated skills need the use of special hand movements. The only glimmer of hope that she had, was in their attempts to prevent her from using her edge they proved that they had no idea what her edge was. That, at least, gave her some advantage.
    A sudden sound caught her attention from the far corner of the room as something moved out from underneath the pile of straw. She couldn’t make out what it was at first until it moved into the thin shaft of light that came through the small window of her cell door. It was a large brown rat, larger th an what she was used to seeing back home. It was nearly six inches from end to end, and that was not including the tail which was easily another ten inches. He came out from the shadows, cautiously sniffing the gray slop that had spilled from the bowl.
    “You wouldn’t happen to know what that is, would you?” She asked it.
    -Not a chance.-
    The rat replied as it slowly backed away.
    -I heard the valrik eat something known as Shrool, but I