Redemption of Thieves (Book 4) (8 page)

“Ignorant dog!” he growled. “You have no idea of the shaman’s condescension in bargaining with you. On no other occasion would my grandfather look a half-blood in the eye, but today he deals with you as with an equal, as with one of our people.”

“Does he always keep equals bound in his presence?” I couldn’t resist asking.

“It is his wisdom to do as he pleases!” was the retort. “You should not be in his presence at all. You walk beneath the sun, not in the cool shadows of the deep forest. You live within walls of stone, not sleeping beneath the roof of the trees.”

“I’ve actually spent many a night sprawled in the branches of a tree,” I said truthfully. “You savages aren’t the only ones with forests.”

He scoffed. “Your forests are dead wood and half-grown saplings. You of the provinces do not know deep shadow.”

He made it sound as if this were a terrible shame on us.

The old shaman interrupted our argument to speak a few words. Although I understood none of the exchange between them, I sensed the younger man was being rebuked.

After a pause, the chastened young Skeltai grumbled, “My grandfather wishes to return the talk to our bargain.”

I leaned forward. “You have already told me if the bow were yours, you would use it as a powerful weapon against my province. How then can you expect me to willingly give it up to you? No, I’ll never do that. Tell the old man if he’s interested in making any other kind of bargain, I’m willing to talk. I’ll trade him almost anything he wishes to buy the freedom of my companions. But the bow I will not give up.”

Cannot
give up, I amended inwardly.
I doubted I could separate myself from the bow if I tried. But there was no reason for my enemies to know this.

Shooting me a scorching look, my interpreter passed on this information to the shaman.

The old man turned cold eyes on me and my resolve almost weakened with sudden fear. When he spoke his voice was like a dash of ice-water.

“My grandfather says,” I was told, “that he has no other bargain for you. If you will not pass the bow into our hands, we will offer both you and it as a gift to our gods. Maybe such a large sacrifice will incline the gods to our favor and they will see fit to give us victory over our enemies without the barra-banac.”

I could tell by the wild expression of the old shaman he was mad enough to carry out his threat. But even now I didn’t consider complying with their wishes. What I needed, I thought frantically, was to buy myself more time. Time for escape, for rescue. Time for a miracle…

I said, “We can play at this game all night but you’ll not change my mind.”

“Then you will burn on the fires of Sagara Nouri and the corpses of your friends will be the kindling at your feet.”

There wasn’t much I could say to that, but I clung to the shreds of my determination and wouldn’t allow myself to contemplate the picture he painted.

My captors conferred together, and when my interpreter turned back to me, he said, “It has been decided you will be given the opportunity to consider the shaman’s offer and to imagine the fate you will suffer if you refuse it. But your time must be short for the rites begin at the mid-point of the night.”

He called in the pair of savages lurking in the background and I was hauled unceremoniously from the hut and out into the black of the night.

In the surrounding darkness, I had only a brief impression of thick, shadowy trees reaching out to clutch at me with their sharp branches as I was maneuvered down a beaten path away from the little hut. It was difficult to make out my surroundings in much detail. The dense canopy overhead blotted out all but the most determined slivers of moonlight, so it was as if I stumbled around in a dark closet with only the aid of my captors to keep my feet on the path.

When we came into a narrow clearing, I could identify a little more of what was before me because of a faint orangey glow flickering through the dense foliage in the distance. I couldn’t see what lay in the larger clearing beyond this, and wondered if the firelight I was glimpsing through the trees was from the same fires meant to consume my body and those of my companions during the coming blood rites.

I pushed the thought from my mind. Escape was what I had to concentrate on, not the consequences if I failed to achieve that goal. I looked around and noted the area was ringed with rows of large cages that looked much like outdoor prison cells constructed of wooden bars.

I was hauled to the nearest of these and made to stand waiting in the care of one of my guards, as the other deftly unlatched and opened the door. Should I break free and run? But no, the savage’s hold on me was firm. Besides, my hands remained bound. The opportunity passed as I was seized and hurled roughly into the interior.

Driven by the force of my captor’s shoves, I stumbled into the far wall. Before I had time to regain my balance and turn, I heard the narrow door behind me being drawn closed and secured. Clutching the narrow wooden bars, I closed my eyes for a second. What cruel twist of fate had brought me into this mess? I had come hunting Skeltai and instead had become their captive. Thinking to damage my enemies, I had stumbled unwittingly into their waiting hands. Not only that but I’d delivered more victims into their grasp.

I realized I wasn’t alone. Looking around me, I identified other sorry figures slumped in dejected poses along the walls of the cage—my companions in this failed venture. Or as many, I supposed, as remained of them. Bloodied and disarmed, the Fists didn’t look quite as impressive as they had at the start of the day. Only one of them, a wiry little man I vaguely remembered seeing before, left the shadows to wordlessly help me loosen my hands, before he drifted away.

The moment my hands were free I grabbed my bow, which my captors had slung crookedly and somewhat ridiculously around my neck before bringing me out here. Resettling it in its rightful place across my back, I wondered what had prompted them to let me keep it. I could only guess it had something to do with their grudging reluctance to separate the bow from my hands by force.

Now it was time to assess my chances of escaping this wooden box.

I noticed my fellow prisoners had managed to free themselves of their bonds. But it looked like they had given up after that, and they sat, silent and apparently resigned to their fates. Fear was palpable in the air, as I did a quick mental count.

Terrac’s voice came from a shadowed corner. “Seven of us remain.”

Relief flooded through me that he was one of that seven.

He continued with, “The others were killed in the fighting. It might be best if we had shared in their luck, but I’m afraid a slower and more painful road lies ahead for us.”

His voice was weak and I detected a tremor of pain, as I scrambled to his sprawled form.

“Terrac, are you alright?” I could see no injuries on him and it was impossible to tell if the blood spattered across his clothing was his or someone else’s. I made a grab for the buckles of his breast plate but he stopped me.

“Don’t look, Ilan. It’s too late now.”

“I have training,” I offered feebly, knowing full well the handful of tricks I had learned at the elbow of Javen the healer weren’t enough to save a man with a mortal injury.

He caught my hand at the buckles again.

“Let it be, Ilan,” he said.

My eyes stung at the gasp of pain it cost him to get out the words. This was all happening too fast. My world was crashing down around me and I couldn’t take it all in. Life without Terrac would be… no life at all. Funny that revelation came to me at a time like this.

He still held my hand and seemed to be unaware of doing so, as he said, “There’s a favor I need to ask of you.”

I didn’t hesitate. “Of course. Anything.”

“I need…” He winced, stiffening with pain. “I need you to forgive me.”

What was he talking about? I said, “I don’t understand. Forgive you for what?”

“Listen. I was wrong to act as I did when you came to rescue me all those years ago in Selbius. I’ve regretted my words ever since. I’ve messed up a lot of things, maybe we both have. I just want everything as it should be now… at the end. I need you forgive me and say we’re friends again.”

“Of course, of course. We were never anything else.”

“You swear to that?”

“I swear it.”

He smiled weakly and I squeezed his hand. Did his life force feel weaker than it had? Did I sense him slipping away even now?

He moved abruptly to hoist himself into a sitting position.

“What are you doing?” I pressed a firm hand on his shoulder. “You should be lying down. Movement will open the wound farther.”

He brushed my hand away. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve never felt better.”

His weakness fell away like an old cloak and he was suddenly moving and speaking with the ease of a healthy man.

I looked for a grimace of pain or an outpouring of blood but there was none.

Satisfied he was uninjured, I shoved him back against the prison bars. But not very hard. I remembered too well the heart-rending ache when I’d thought he was dying.

“What’s wrong with you, priest boy?” I demanded, reverting in my anger to his childhood nickname. “Who plays such a stupid joke at a time like this?”

“I wasn’t joking,” he protested. “There were things I needed to say and, oddly enough, it’s a lot easier to speak your mind when you’re dying.”

I hesitated. “Well, are you dying or aren’t you?”

“I’m not but I knew you couldn’t refuse me if you thought I was.”

I exploded. “
Refuse
you? Why, you sneaking devious—! How dare you pretend you’re—when you’re really—?” Choking on my indignation, I had to stop. It was all I could do not to give him another good slam against the bars.

He grinned. “Now, now. Don’t forget you gave your word.”

“I promised to forgive everything that happened before,” I snapped. “But I won’t be tricked into forgetting
this
so easily.”

He looked away from me, out the bars of the cage and into the night. I followed his direction and saw the bonfires of the Skeltai in the distance.

“Sadly, I don’t think you’ll have a very long time to hold the grudge,” Terrac said. “They’re preparing for our deaths even now.”

I sobered. The orangey glow of the bonfires cast a flickering light over us and the bars of the cage threw long shadows across Terrac’s face. His mouth quirked in an apologetic smile and his violet eyes gleamed beautifully in the half light. It occurred to me suddenly that a man could be forgiven many things when he looked this good.

The moment was interrupted by a piercing howl in the distance as the Skeltai shamans took up a flesh-crawling chant. I shivered at the reminder of our eminent fate, even as I tried to find in myself some spark of hope or defiance.

“We should check the entrance,” I suggested.

“Locked and guarded,” said Terrac.

“Maybe there’s another way out?”

“I already checked.”

He startled me by reached up to run one gloved finger down the bridge of my nose, following the crooked spot where it had been freshly broken. A shiver ran through me at the contact.

“Its fine,” I said, abruptly pushing his hand away. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

I dabbed self-consciously at the dried blood crusting my upper lip.

“It shouldn’t be fine,” he said quietly. “You took a hard blow.”

I had no desire to explain how the Skeltai shaman had tended my injuries or to relate his offer regarding the bow. Suppose Terrac tried to persuade me to accept the offer and spare all our lives? What I had to do was hard enough. I didn’t know if I could hold out against any more pressure.

Unaware of my thoughts, he took hold of my jaw and turned my head from side to side, studying what must have been a fairly impressive bruise spreading from nose to cheek. His hands were gentle.

I swallowed. “I said I’m alright. Could you not do that please?”

I moved to pull away and was surprised when he didn’t let me go. My eyes went to his.

I heard a soft snicker from one of the Fists in the background. I had all but forgotten their presence. My cheeks burned but I supposed it was good that the men could still laugh at something. It showed they hadn’t given up altogether.

Terrac snapped at the offender, “Could we have a little privacy please?”

The Fist looked abashed but one of his companions chipped in cheekily, “We’d be glad to grant you some alone time, sir, but unfortunately the savages have locked us in.”

“Then let’s be looking for a way out,” I said and scrambled to my feet, trying to dust away the foolish feeling that had overtaken me.

I tugged at the bars along the wall, feeling for a loose one. The whole of our party stirred at this faint show of hope and followed my lead, searching for a weak point or another way out. Terrac worked alongside me and for the first time I was glad of the shadows, knowing they concealed the high color in my cheeks.

We all worked in silence except for the scuffing sounds of feet across the dirt floor and occasional grunts of discouragement when an idea was tested and proved fruitless. I was painfully aware of the time slipping by. Through the bars I could make out the shadowy figures of our savage guards standing by and although it was too dark to make out their faces over the distance, their heads often turned in our direction. It seemed to me they observed our failed efforts with amusement.

I slowly realized we were wasting our last hours on a doomed attempt. If there was a way to get us out of these cages, away from the Skeltai forest and back home, this wasn’t it. I said nothing to the others but let them hold out hope while they could. I stumbled wearily into that same dark corner Terrac and I had shared earlier and sank to the floor, my face resting on my clenched hands. I needed to think. Two possibilities kept repeating themselves in my mind.

One, was it time to reconsider my answer to the shaman? Should I give up the bow? The other question… I pushed it to the back of my mind, doubting I was even capable of carrying out such a feat. Despite Hadrian’s tutoring, there was too much about my magic I didn’t understand. I could only guess at the risks of what I contemplated being attempted by a novice. But the shaman’s offer: our freedom for the bow. It seemed foolish not to trade a simple object of wood and string for my life. Had it been my decision to refuse or was it the bow refusing to release me? I wanted to believe the choice was mine. But in my heart that claim rung hollow. This was about my mind having become so deeply ensnared by the enchantment of the weapon I could no longer call my will my own.