horse-played on the hill,
she began loosening the leather, sliding her wrists against each other. It was
far too easy. She knew she could be free in less than a minute if she tugged at
the primitive binding. If she waited for them to take her into this village
that Tobin spoke of, however, she had a chance to get supplies and information
about her brother’s kidnappers.
She had never heard of villages in
the wastelands. Tales of life beyond her home valley included rabid beasts,
barbaric outcasts, and evil desert savages—never organized settlements. There
was sure to be water and food at the very least, and the best way of finding
this village was to remain captive for perhaps a few more hours.
Adala didn’t have to wait a few
more hours, however. Within the half-hour, heavy footsteps approached from atop
the incline, and she turned to see a middle-aged man with an untrimmed beard
coming with Tobin’s young messenger. The man’s skin was wrinkled and tan, like
old leather, but his arms were thick with strength. Unlike the boys, this man
was equipped with a sword and sturdy, worn boots.
Tobin rose to address the
newcomer. “Ollie, we’ve detained her by that rock.”
“I can see that much,” the scruffy
one grunted, “why doesn’t she have a dress on?”
“Damned if I know,” Tobin said.
Adala curled her legs under her, conscious of the stranger’s gaze.
The older man approached her and
noticed the discarded skirt lying nearby. “You boys can’t even cover her up
after you’ve taken your spoils?” He mumbled and cursed, pulling her roughly to
a standing position. In a moment, her feet were free and he had stuffed her
skirt between her bound arms behind her. “Get-a-moving,” he said. “Up the hill.
If you try to run off, I’ll run an arrow into your back without a moment’s
regret.”
Adala peered at the corner of a
crossbow strapped to his back. She hadn’t seen many bows up close, but they
seemed commonplace with this band of renegades. The man, Ollie, brushed away
his sweat-soaked forelock, and Adala froze. A pale, textured scar in the shape
of a capital T rested above his right eyebrow. T for thievery. It was the brand
mark of an outcast from Gerstadt. She shivered.
Her stare did not go unnoticed.
The man grinned, baring a mouthful of ill-kept teeth. “Pretty, isn’t it? I
murdered three men and raped a dozen women for this badge.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Tobin said.
“Only the gods know what he stole to come here, but he won’t hurt you unless
you try to get away.”
“That’s comforting,” she said,
still staring at his brand.
“Ollie, I’ll come with you,” said
Tobin, slinging a long bow over his shoulder. “You may need an extra hand with
her.”
The man’s pale eyes danced toward
the heavens as he laughed. “I think I can handle a woman! Come along though, if
you’d like. You might learn a thing or two, boy.”
Within a few moments they were
trekking up the incline, Adala carefully leading the way on her bare feet with
Tobin and Ollie right behind. Ollie did not cease his chatter for a minute.
Since Adala had taken note of his brand, he told tales of stealing the
emperor’s scepter from the castle at Narshton, taking the virtue of countless
priestesses, and commandeering a shipment of Diggerish gold off the coast of
Iviannah.
Tobin ignored their companion’s
monologues and simply directed Adala in their journey, telling her to go a
little more to the left or right, or to travel around the next hill instead of
over it.
“Where are we going?” she dared to
ask.
“The village,” said Tobin.
“Yes, but what village? Who lives
on this side of the mountains?” she asked in a low voice. Behind them, Ollie
was wholly engaged in a graphic story of identical Sabrian triplets he once
encountered in Hugerford.
“Most of us are outcasts from your
seaside city, Gerstadt,” said Tobin.
“But you carry no brand,” she
said. “Surely there aren’t enough
she began loosening the leather, sliding her wrists against each other. It was
far too easy. She knew she could be free in less than a minute if she tugged at
the primitive binding. If she waited for them to take her into this village
that Tobin spoke of, however, she had a chance to get supplies and information
about her brother’s kidnappers.
She had never heard of villages in
the wastelands. Tales of life beyond her home valley included rabid beasts,
barbaric outcasts, and evil desert savages—never organized settlements. There
was sure to be water and food at the very least, and the best way of finding
this village was to remain captive for perhaps a few more hours.
Adala didn’t have to wait a few
more hours, however. Within the half-hour, heavy footsteps approached from atop
the incline, and she turned to see a middle-aged man with an untrimmed beard
coming with Tobin’s young messenger. The man’s skin was wrinkled and tan, like
old leather, but his arms were thick with strength. Unlike the boys, this man
was equipped with a sword and sturdy, worn boots.
Tobin rose to address the
newcomer. “Ollie, we’ve detained her by that rock.”
“I can see that much,” the scruffy
one grunted, “why doesn’t she have a dress on?”
“Damned if I know,” Tobin said.
Adala curled her legs under her, conscious of the stranger’s gaze.
The older man approached her and
noticed the discarded skirt lying nearby. “You boys can’t even cover her up
after you’ve taken your spoils?” He mumbled and cursed, pulling her roughly to
a standing position. In a moment, her feet were free and he had stuffed her
skirt between her bound arms behind her. “Get-a-moving,” he said. “Up the hill.
If you try to run off, I’ll run an arrow into your back without a moment’s
regret.”
Adala peered at the corner of a
crossbow strapped to his back. She hadn’t seen many bows up close, but they
seemed commonplace with this band of renegades. The man, Ollie, brushed away
his sweat-soaked forelock, and Adala froze. A pale, textured scar in the shape
of a capital T rested above his right eyebrow. T for thievery. It was the brand
mark of an outcast from Gerstadt. She shivered.
Her stare did not go unnoticed.
The man grinned, baring a mouthful of ill-kept teeth. “Pretty, isn’t it? I
murdered three men and raped a dozen women for this badge.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Tobin said.
“Only the gods know what he stole to come here, but he won’t hurt you unless
you try to get away.”
“That’s comforting,” she said,
still staring at his brand.
“Ollie, I’ll come with you,” said
Tobin, slinging a long bow over his shoulder. “You may need an extra hand with
her.”
The man’s pale eyes danced toward
the heavens as he laughed. “I think I can handle a woman! Come along though, if
you’d like. You might learn a thing or two, boy.”
Within a few moments they were
trekking up the incline, Adala carefully leading the way on her bare feet with
Tobin and Ollie right behind. Ollie did not cease his chatter for a minute.
Since Adala had taken note of his brand, he told tales of stealing the
emperor’s scepter from the castle at Narshton, taking the virtue of countless
priestesses, and commandeering a shipment of Diggerish gold off the coast of
Iviannah.
Tobin ignored their companion’s
monologues and simply directed Adala in their journey, telling her to go a
little more to the left or right, or to travel around the next hill instead of
over it.
“Where are we going?” she dared to
ask.
“The village,” said Tobin.
“Yes, but what village? Who lives
on this side of the mountains?” she asked in a low voice. Behind them, Ollie
was wholly engaged in a graphic story of identical Sabrian triplets he once
encountered in Hugerford.
“Most of us are outcasts from your
seaside city, Gerstadt,” said Tobin.
“But you carry no brand,” she
said. “Surely there aren’t enough
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