The colossal figures remained unable to move, unable to speak. Nathan continued in a congenial voice. “There’s so much more to tell, and I can keep coming back to entertain and enlighten you. Just before I traveled to the Old World, our most recent war was against the resurrected Emperor Sulachan. You might have heard of him, because he used Ildakar as one of his bases during the wizard wars three thousand years ago. He led a huge army of half people from the Dark Lands. They surged out of the Third Kingdom to destroy D’Hara.”
He mused, his eyes twinkling. “I wish we could have turned you two loose to fight on that battlefield. You’d have smashed thousands of the undead. Just look at you!” Nathan was sure the blazing light in their eyes was softening. Soon, he might consider them ready to be unleashed.
CHAPTER 45
From inside the dusty shack where he, Jed, and Brock were held, Bannon listened to the distant pounding on the walls of Ildakar. He didn’t know how much damage the ancient warriors were causing, but the monotonous drumbeat would set the city on edge. Imprisoned here, Bannon had more important things to worry about.
“How soon do you think they’ll kill us?” Jed asked. “I expected they would torture us by now.”
“Are you in a hurry? Keeper’s crotch!” Brock huddled against the rickety wooden wall.
“I don’t think it will be quick,” Jed groaned. “They want to make a spectacle of us. They’ll probably cut us to pieces in front of the city gates where everyone can watch.”
Brock knotted his fingers together. “My father had no business forcing me to fight like a common foot soldier. I’m a noble!”
“You are a captive,” Bannon corrected him, “and your time would be better served if you considered ways to escape instead of how painful it’ll be when you die.”
“Escape?” Brock squawked.
Bannon shushed him for his outburst. “Be quiet! The soldiers out there will hear you.”
The young man didn’t lower his voice at all. “Yes, thousands of soldiers! Who cares if they hear us? How are we supposed to fight our way through them?”
“Think of some way to break free that does not involve fighting.” Pressing his face against the wall, Bannon peered through the crack in the boards. It was late afternoon and the sun had already set behind the mountains. Long shadows crept across the plain. “Wouldn’t you rather die trying to escape than be murdered as a showpiece? Remember how you wanted me to die in front of an audience, for your entertainment?” Bitterness edged his voice. “I’m done with that.”
He turned away from the wall and looked at the other two young men. “I was never your slave, yet you and Amos arranged for me to be sent to the combat pits. I am free now.” He pounded on the wooden wall, and the boards rattled. “Even here, I’m free. And if you want to be free, you’d better start thinking about how we can get out of here.”
He knew that Jed and Brock would be useless. It was going to be up to him.
He expected Utros to use them as hostages, hauling the three in front of the gates and threatening to execute them unless the city surrendered. Even though Jed and Brock were the sons of powerful nobles, he knew they weren’t that important. And Bannon didn’t believe for a minute that Nicci, or even Nathan, would sacrifice Ildakar to save him.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” he muttered to himself. Jed and Brock still weren’t his friends, and he knew who they really were in their hearts, but Bannon was better than that. The two young men were human beings and fellow captives, and they were all in the same dire situation. He would at least try to help.
He pressed his eye against the crack, trying to see details in the shadows as twilight fell over the camp. Fires were lit, comrades gathered together. Like soldiers in every army far from home, they talked and boasted with one another. Some sang, while others gambled. Because of their invincible numbers, the warriors wouldn’t be overly worried about their prisoners. Only a fool would attempt to escape.
Bannon had no choice but to do the foolish thing, though. What other option did he have? He stared through the crack in the shack’s wall and pondered, struggling to find ideas. His heart leaped as he saw a flash of tawny fur just barely flickering into his view, far from the fires. He spotted the movement again. Yes, it was Mrra!
Two of the ancient warriors walked past, blocking Bannon’s view. The sand panther ducked into the darkness, and when the chalky-gray soldiers were gone, Bannon couldn’t see her anymore. He whispered through the crack. “Mrra! I’m here! It’s me.”
He didn’t know what the big cat could do to help, but knowing she was out there gave him hope. He rattled the wall boards, testing them. This confinement structure had been built quickly with makeshift tools and rough-sawn lumber. The boards had been sunk into the ground, but they were loose. Bannon pushed on them and managed to get his fingers through the crack. Splinters dug into his knuckles when he pulled.
Neither Jed nor Brock bothered to help him. “They’ll probably interrogate us before they kill us,” Jed said. “General Utros will want to know all details about Ildakar.”
“I’m not going to tell him anything,” Brock said.
Bannon kept working at the boards, wiggling the gap wider.
“Yes, you will, and you know it,” Jed said. “Once they shatter your knees and peel off your nails with tongs, you’ll talk. You saw those two sorceresses. What if they ignite your fingers like candles, one at a time, until your flesh drips like wax off your finger bones, down to the knuckle?”
Brock began to whimper.
Gritting his teeth, Bannon wobbled the board back and forth. He would have demanded their help, but there wasn’t room for more than one set of hands anyway. He had to do this himself. When the wood creaked, grinding against the adjacent board, Bannon froze at the noise. The gap was wider now, and he could see better out into the camp.
None of the soldiers paid attention to them. The nearest campfire was at least sixty feet away, and Bannon saw shadows beyond. That was where Mrra had vanished. Maybe if he and the other two captives could get out of the shack unseen, they could slip away into the darkness. He had noticed that the ancient soldiers had difficulty seeing in the darkness, so maybe they had a better chance than he had at first thought. How he wished he had his sword!
Even the slimmest chance was better than no chance at all. As he wiggled the board, it squeaked again, much looser now. The camp was settling down for the night, and the moon rose over the hills. He saw the silvery light as a disadvantage, washing away some of their cover.
The squeaky board moved more freely now. With a hard shove he could knock it loose and probably fit his body through the gap, when the time was right. Bannon nodded to himself. “We’ll wait until midnight, and then we run.”
“We’ll be caught,” Jed said. “And killed.”
“Or you can stay here and be killed. I’m trying to help you! Sweet Sea Mother, have you never had to do anything for yourselves in your entire lives?”
The two indignant young men didn’t answer.
The hours crawled by as he listened to the movement in the camp, the activity slowing. The soldiers did not bed down, because unlike normal men, they didn’t need to sleep or eat. He wondered if they ever let down their guard. He had to hope so.
Gradually, much later, the night grew quieter. He kept staring into the darkness, searching for Mrra, just to build his confidence. He got ready to make his move one way or another.
He was surprised to see a flicker of gray and black, a shadow that moved and rippled. He realized it was a human figure, a woman covered in a mottled silk cloak the color of shifting shadows. As the figure trotted on light footsteps toward the shack, Bannon pressed the loose board sideways, widening the gap. She approached, using the painted shadows of her silk cloak for cover. Reaching the wall, the cloaked figure pulled back the camouflage.