Having a foot ensnared in a bear trap was one scenario for which Drent had never trained her. It was a disadvantage, to be sure. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have even been a contest.
He dove back in, his companions cheering him on, and she tried to adapt the forms of her training to her circumstances. She fought aggressively, pushing him back, and when he was once more out of her reach, she almost fell on her face.
“C’mon, Darren,” said the woman, “get it over with already. It’s time for us to get back to camp.”
The man, Darren, grinned at Karigan, and then, instead of attacking, he just reached down and yanked the chain, pulling her leg right out from under her. She fell onto her back. When the soldiers came for her, she rose to her knees and held them off at first with her sword and bonewood, but they surrounded her. She was grabbed from behind, and the others pried the weapons out of her hands.
She punched and kicked to the last, but there were too many of them. When she got kneed in the gut, she curled up on her side, coughing and retching. They bound her hands behind her and released her foot from the trap using a keylike mechanism, then hauled her to her feet. She almost fell at the pain that shot through her ankle, but they held her up. Her ankle was probably just bruised to the bone, but at the moment it hurt like all five hells.
“Let’s go,” Darren said. “We’ll take the Greenie to Captain Terrik. The other one can go to Nyssa’s workshop until the cap decides what to do with ’em.”
Karigan was shoved forward and she almost fell headlong, but somehow she kept to her feet. She limped along behind Estral. An annoying strand of hair had come loose from her braid and hung in her face. She tried blowing it aside, but it just fell back.
“Don’t think about running off into the forest,” Darren warned her. “There are worse traps for you to step in.”
“Wouldn’t think of it,” she muttered. Not with her own sword being jabbed into her back. No, Drent would not be pleased. Not at all.
THE BURNING FIRE
::Grandmother’s true granddaughter has Estral’s voice.::
Zachary nodded subtly to acknowledge Fiori’s words. He knew the story of how Estral had lost her voice, but he could not say so aloud. He and his fellow slaves had been herded into the great hall to be proselytized by Smurn, and once again, Fiori had sat behind him, doing his whisper-throwing trick.
::You could not imagine my shock at hearing my daughter’s voice from another girl. They used some magic, some spell, to steal it from Estral. I have been at my wit’s end trying to figure out how to steal it back.::
Binning once again snored softly next to Zachary as Smurn droned on. Fiori had told him that he’d been captured in one of the northern lumber camps. He’d changed his name and hidden his affiliation with Selium, but when the intruders discovered he’d a talent for music and was educated, Grandmother decided not to kill him, but kept him as a tutor for her granddaughter. He was teaching her music, reading, writing, and figuring.
::I don’t even know how this has affected Estral,:: Fiori continued. ::I don’t know how it has hurt her or if . . .::
Zachary could hear the pain in Fiori’s voice and desperately wished he could tell him that Estral was fine and searching for him.
A sudden disturbance interrupted their “conversation.” A soldier strode across the great hall to one of the guards. “Get Captain Terrik.”
The guard ran off. There was the sound of others approaching, and distracted slaves gazed across the hall to see what was going on. Smurn did not look pleased to have his sermon interrupted.
“Listen to me, you heathen sinners!” he cried.
Two more soldiers entered with a captive held between them, her hands bound behind her back. It took a moment for it to sink in that the captive wore Rider green, had brown hair and a patch over her eye.
“Karigan . . .” he murmured in shock. He started to rise.
::No!:: Fiori came up alongside him and grabbed his arm. ::Do not reveal yourself!::
Zachary was strung taut. Karigan’s gaze fell in their direction, then wandered off as though taking in all her surroundings, then whipped back to them, her expression registering recognition.
“Uh-oh,” Fiori murmured.
When one of the soldiers started to follow her gaze, she looked straight ahead and lunged. The two soldiers gripping her arms yanked her back. She recoiled, and using their hold on her as leverage, sprang and kicked both feet forward into the lead soldier, who sprawled headlong. She then pivoted and kneed one of the soldiers holding her, and rammed her shoulder into the other.
Zachary was ready to jump to his feet, his fists clenched.
::Steady!:: Fiori told him. ::You will not help her by running to her. She is doing this to cover up her recognition of you. Let her do what she needs to!::
A growl rumbled from Zachary’s chest and Binning shook himself awake. “What’s goin’ on?”
Other onlookers and slaves laughed at the hapless soldiers who cried out in pain and swore as Karigan planted a swift kick or crunched toes or butted heads. Even bound as she was, she was a mad whirlwind that spun and lunged and charged. She laid waste to any who got in her way. Other guards, finally taking pity on their fellows, closed in.
“No,” Zachary whispered.
When one of the soldiers raised the pommel of a very familiar sword to strike her head, he opened his mouth to shout a warning, but Fiori’s fist slammed into his gut. He doubled over and gasped for air.
::I am sorry,:: Fiori said, ::but you must not reveal yourself.::