From Across the Clouded Range (85 page)

That hope was lost as quickly as it
had formed. Four more riders pushed through the tall grass to his
right with Teth prodded along before them. Her hands were tied
behind her back, and she stumbled as she walked over the rough
ground without her arms for balance.

The man who held the spear at Dasen’s
chest yelled something to the men who had captured Teth. One of
them yelled back, holding up Teth’s long knife for emphasis, and
the men in the clearing burst into laughter. Teth did not look
nearly so amused. She did not appear to be hurt, but she wore a
scowl that was almost a snarl, and he would have sworn that he
heard her growl as she plopped down beside him in the matted
grass.

Trying to avoid Teth’s rancor, Dasen
turned to examine their captors. They were of average size though a
bit slight of build – certainly not the same men who had attacked
Randor’s Pass. They had delicate features like porcelain dolls,
with slight noses, small ears, and thin faces that led to tapered
jaws. Their skin was dark but not unusually so, and their jet-black
hair was cut in a small circle that ended just above the ears. They
wore plain clothes like those of the forest masters – simple shirts
of dark olive-green and light-brown pants made from the hide of
some indistinguishable animal. The horses they rode were tall and
sleek but not strange in their size or beauty.

The riders spoke among themselves for
several minutes seemingly oblivious to their captives before one of
them leapt from his mount and came around behind Dasen. The man
grabbed his arm, flipped him like a child onto his stomach, and
forced his face to the ground. A knee to the back held him in place
as the man tied his hands with a tight leather cord.

Bindings in place, the rider lifted
Dasen then Teth to their feet. He led them the rest of the way down
the hill to the road then, with a friendly pat on the back, leapt
onto his horse in a single motion. The men spoke to each other for
another minute then, without apparent thought for their captives,
turned and rode back around the hill.

Dasen was just wondering
if they intended to leave them bound in the middle of the road when
he heard the hooves pounding the road behind him. With a sudden
flash of fear, he started to run.
By the
Order, they’re going to impale us or trample us into the
road.
Beside him, Teth caught his eye and
looked at him with fear, regret, and sorrow. The horses were on top
of them, shaking the very ground beneath their feet. Dasen expected
to feel a spear pushing through him at any moment, to feel a hoof
smash him to the ground. He drew the breath to say goodbye to Teth,
when a hand grabbed hold of his arm and launch him into the
air.

He landed on his stomach across the
front of the horse. He retched as the saddle dug into his guts and
struggled to keep his head from bouncing from his shoulders. The
motion was rewarded with a swat to his rump. He squirmed again to
escape the abuse, and the rider hit him even harder, spanking him
like a child. Every time he moved, the man swatted his rump hard
enough to make him squeal. Until finally, he learned his lesson and
settled in as best he could for the long, miserable
ride.

#

By the time the rider pulled him off
of the saddle and dropped him on a barren patch of ground, Dasen
was delirious. He fell to his side and retched, but he’d lost his
stomach’s paltry contents long ago. Moaning and writhing in the
dirt like a worm, he squinted up at the rider framed by the sun on
the other side of a rail fence. The man was smiling. He reached
down with the butt of his spear, patted Dasen on the back, and said
some words that sounded as if they were meant to be encouraging.
Then he wheeled his mount around and rode away, chatting amiably
with the rider who had carried Teth.

Ordeal finally over, Dasen took a
number of deep breaths and tried to recover. Hands numb and still
bound behind his back, there was little he could do for his myriad
miseries. He closed his eyes against the pounding of his head, but
that only seemed to start the world bouncing all over again. He
dared not sit for the burning of his rear where he had been
spanked. And his guts ached with every breath. In all, he was not
sure the riders had been merciful in not trampling him into the
road.

Recognizing a groaning on his other
side, he turned his head and saw Teth a few feet away. She was
doubled up, knees pressed to her chest, looking every bit as bad as
he felt. She caught his eye. Her face turned firm, fear clear in
her eyes. “I’m a boy,” she whispered. “Your male cousin, do you
understand?”

Dasen nodded, then stopped as the
motion nearly made him retch. “Any idea where we are?” he
asked.

“
In a pen. Probably in the
invaders’ camp. We were riding for a long time, going east, I
think. We may even be outside Thoren. Can you get your hands free?”
Teth squirmed, obviously testing her own bonds.

“
I can’t even feel my
hands, let alone move them.”

“
Well we’ll never get out
of here like this.” Teth grunted as she pulled on the
bindings.

“
Don’t bother, you’ll just
hurt yourself,” a new voice said. It was casual, almost friendly,
and spoke in the Imperial tongue. A shadow followed the words,
landing over both of their eyes as a tall figure positioned himself
above them. “Hold still a minute, and I’ll cut you loose.” The
figure, a sun-smeared shadow from their perspective, bent. The
blade of a short knife shimmered as he pulled it from his belt and
brought it around. Dasen’s heart leapt as the knife disappeared
behind him. But after a bit of painful tugging, his hands were
free.

He brought them to his chest and tried
to rub some feeling back into them. His teeth clenched as the blood
returned, bringing pins and needles with it.

“
Who are you?” Teth
snapped behind him. He heard her scuttle away from the figure.
Dasen had no such ambitions. He slowly brought himself up to
sitting, trying to find a comfortably way to sit on his tender
rump.

“
Ral Pasdner,” the figure
answered Teth immediately with no indication of taking offense at
her tone. “You could say I’m the top layer of dirt around here.
Even if I’m on top, I get stepped on just the same. You, my new
friends, are, for better or worse, several layers farther
down.”

“
Where are we?” Teth’s
tone had not modulated to match Ral’s friendly banter.

“
You are in a sheep pen.
Rolling in the dirt like a pig.” Ral knelt to their level, exiting
the sun so that they could finally see him. He was a young man,
maybe a year or two older than Dasen and Teth. He was ragged, dirt
smeared, and shaggy as if he had not bathed, shaved, or combed his
hair in weeks. A closer look revealed that his tattered shirt and
worn pants had once been fine. Those clothes hung off of him like a
scarecrow, but Dasen could only imagine that such fine clothes had
also been properly tailored – Ral had lost a great deal of weight.
“And that’s about as high as you’re going to get,” Ral continued.
“The Darthur at least think before they kill pigs. With you . . .
.” He paused and looked quickly to the side, like a rabbit having
heard a snapping twig.

Dasen followed his eyes but didn’t
make it to the source of his anxiety. The pen that housed them was
situated on a slight rise, allowing him to see past the split rails
through a number of two-story structures beyond an expanse of green
pasture to the towers, the three walls, the countless building, the
wide grey river. “We’re in Wilmont,” he said softly.

Ral’s eyes popped back to Dasen.
“Right you are. Not that it matters one whit. We might as well be
on the moon, and the sooner you get your heads around that, the
better. Now, I’ve introduced myself, so what are your names, or did
the Darthur jar the manners out of you?”

Before Dasen could hope to answer,
Teth spoke. “My name is Kevin Muldon, and this is my slow, but
older, brother Wil.”

Ral looked at Teth then started to
laugh. It was a low, cautious laugh, and he watched the surrounding
buildings furtively with each guffaw, but he seemed unable to
contain it. When his laughter had been reduced to chuckles, he
shook his finger in her face. “That is truly bad luck. Of all the
names to choose. I just saw Wil Muldon a few minutes ago. He was
chopping wood, and you don’t even look like him. As for Kevin, he
died a week ago.” He had one more laugh, wiped a tear from his eye,
and turned back to them. “If you want to lie, you should just make
up a name. Otherwise, there’s always someone who can reveal the
truth.”

Dasen barely noticed a word Ral said
after the mention of Wil, and especially Kevin. His thoughts went
instantly to Mr. Muldon looking for his sons. Obviously, he’d never
found them, and now at least one of them was gone for good. The
sadness of it doubled the ache in his already throbbing
guts.

“
We are all in the same
mess here,” Ral said. “The Darthur don’t like any of us any more
than another. They don’t care what you did before you were caught.
Even if they did, no one but Ipid speaks their language, so I
couldn’t tell on you even if I wanted to or they cared to know.
Take me. My father ran thirty different caravans through the
forests. He was one of the wealthiest men in the Kingdoms, and
these brutes treat me like any commoner. On the same note, they
treat any commoner like the son of one of the Kingdoms’ wealthiest
men.”

Ral paused and thought about what he
had said, checking the accuracy of the scrambled logic. Dasen had
been dying to interrupt and didn’t miss his chance. “Did you say,
Ipid? As in Lord Ipid Ronigan?”

“
Shhhhh!” Ral nearly
grabbed Dasen’s mouth as he searched their surroundings. “Never use
his title. He’s very firm about that.”

“
But he’s my father,”
Dasen blurted only to hear Teth exhale sharply beside
him.

“
What?” Ral asked. “What
are you trying to say, that you’re Dasen Ronigan?” He seemed to
consider this claim only slightly more credible than the first. He
looked Dasen over from head to toe, frowning the entire time. “I
guess you fit the description, but where’s your wife? Ipid said
you’d just left your joining ceremony.”

Dasen could practically feel Teth’s
heart racing, her eyes boring into him from the side. “Ironically
enough,” he said, “we left her with the Muldon’s. We stayed with
them right after their sons were taken. This,” he motioned to Teth,
“is my valet . . . Peter Harbisher. We’ve been running from the
invaders since just outside Randor’s Pass. We were trying to make
it to Thoren, but a patrol caught us earlier today.” He ended by
extending his hand to Ral.

Ral looked at his hand suspiciously
then shrugged and shook it warily. “Well, I guess we’ll find out
the truth soon enough. Ipid was here yesterday and asked about you.
He didn’t say anything about a valet, but he can clear it up when
he gets back from the city. In the meantime, the Darthur don’t care
who you are. Get that through your head. They don’t care that
you’re rich. They don’t care that your father is their leader’s
favorite. They’ll kill you as soon as look at you, so your best
defense is to not have any of them look at you. Got it?”

Dasen nodded solemnly. The
last two weeks had already rid him of any sense of grandeur he
might have harbored, and he certainly had no intention of making
himself known to the invaders, or Darthur as they must be called.
But he was desperate to know more about his father.
A translator? A favorite of the invaders’ leader?
Getting back from the city?
The questions
piled up in his mind, fighting to be the first out.

“
So what exactly is going
on here?” Teth asked before Dasen could manage to order his
thoughts.

“
Well, that seems kind of
obvious,” Ral returned with sudden distaste. “You have been
captured by the Darthur – invaders from across the Clouded Range if
you’re that far behind. This is where they keep boys about your
age. We look after the camp, cook the meals, gather wood, and any
other task they want us to do.”

Ral's mood seemed to
deteriorate further after that. He shot them each a distasteful
look. “Speaking of which, there's still a lot of work to be done
before we sleep tonight, and I've already spent too much time with
you two. Ipid left
me
in charge, so you two do whatever I say, got it? If there’s
any complaining, lazing, or whining, you don’t eat. And don’t think
you get any special privileges because of your father. Remember
what I said. The Darthur don’t care who you are, and neither do
I.”

He hit Dasen with an
odious look that set him back. He wanted to assure Ral that he had
no aspirations to his post, but Ral spoke over him as he drew the
breath. “I’ll show you around the camp and get you started, but
before we leave this pen there are a few things you need to know:
Do not speak if any of the Darthur are around no matter what they
do. Do not
ever
look them in the eye. Do not let them see you lazing about.
Even if there is nothing to do, find something to make yourself
look busy, even if you’re sleeping, even if you’re pissing, make
yourself look busy. Do not ever, ever, ever, for any reason, touch
their weapons or horses. And do not even think about running off.
At the least, any of those will earn you a beating. At the worst,
they’ll land your head on the ground several feet from the
remainder of your body. Understand?”