He said again as he handed over the reins, reinforcing his instructions, “Stay off the road and out of sight. No campfire tonight, even if you manage to find wood to burn. You should be safer tomorrow, but don’t relax.”
We moved out, riding steadily but not so fast as to attract attention. Glancing at the others of my band of escapees, they appeared as desert dwellers, no more. Not worth a second look at the likes of us. Just like a hundred others, we’d seen in the last day or two.
We followed the road west, as suggested until we were out of sight of any buildings or travelers, then we turned off the road until we were sure we were alone. At one place, we waited to see if anyone followed, then continued.
During the initial departure, we had all been in a rush to escape before the house-to-house search discovered us, but as we rode, my mind reviewed everything Anna and I had discussed. I wanted to turn and look at Emma. Was there a flaw in her disguise? Like the Blue Woman’s feet that never touched the ground? Could a mage make an image so realistic that we never even suspected?
The obvious answer was, no. The less obvious one said that if what Anna had shared with me, and I believed her, Emma was some sort of creation that spied on us. It knew who and where we were, what we said, and all about us. It passed that information on to others, I felt sure. A mage had to be responsible for such a deception—one more powerful than any I’d ever heard about.
I couldn’t help but try to treat Emma the same as always but thought about it before saying anything. In my wildest imagination, I could not think of one scenario where what Emma was doing was done to help us. Those scenarios meant to hurt us came easily.
The next problem I faced was what and when to tell Kendra. Not telling her might make her angry. Telling her might do worse and would probably place us all in danger. I had an image of a roaring dragon falling from the sky and snapping Emma in half before eating both halves. But the image dissolved as my mental image had her evaporate like smoke as the dragon tried to bite her.
Kendra had a temper about some things—or the lack of them. Loyalty was one. I convinced myself this was not about loyalty.
There was also another problem with telling her. The information had come from Anna. Not that Anna was a liar. But she was a child. That meant I had no proof of who she was—or was not. What if Anna was wrong? Could she be and my overactive imagination provided me with false facts.
My head felt tortured like it was being squeezed between the huge hands of a giant. It was about to burst.
Kendra said sharply, “Did you hear me?”
She was speaking to me. I turned. “No, I was thinking of something else.” My eyes fell to Emma.
She gave me the cutest little-girl smile I’d ever seen.
I said to Kendra, “What did you say?”
“That we need a plan. I think we safely managed to escape Vin. Now what?”
I thought that her suggestion would be true if Emma didn’t relay our location to the Vin Army. Turning to face away from Emma, I said gruffly, “We need to keep moving.”
Flier reined in his horse and let me catch up. He rode beside me. “Something bothering you.”
In the same soft tone that he used, I answered, “Yes. Not something I can share right now.”
He rode on ahead. That is how to tell a true friend. He didn’t ask for an explanation, argue, or pry. He accepted what was said and we moved on. I glanced to our right and found the dragon pacing us, flying low over the desert, but in the same direction.
Too bad Kendra did things differently than Flier. But he wasn’t my brother, and she was my sister and our squabbles are part of life. It was too bad.
Or, perhaps not so bad that she was always protecting me. Her dragon was ready to defend all of us. Good. We might need it to eat a little girl-apparition. My temper was growing short, and my anger rising.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Princess Elizabeth
The man who was my captor never talked unless he had to, never told me his name or anything personal. That made him seem more dangerous and prevented any feelings from developing by either of us if you exclude hate. He was nameless, faceless rode with his scarf pulled over his lower nose and mouth and refused to speak unless required.
It had worked. He scared me. In addition to all that, he didn’t appear impressed by traveling with a princess, didn’t seem to care at all about my royal position, young age, or importance to the Kingdom of Dire. There was a job to be done. Deliver me to people in Dagger. That was all. While riding, his eyes never ceased to scan the horizon, peek behind every shrub, or listen for voices on the wind. He was not scared, but cautious.
It was not that I required verification of my royal position by needing his respect, but his total lack of humanity worried me. Without a word of warning passed between us, I understood that if I made an attempt at escaping, it had better be successful or he would kill me and move on to his next assignment.
All that information roiled around in my mind meant that I wouldn’t fail in my escape attempt—which meant that my plan needed to cover all aspects and must work the first time. It need not be complicated.
However, I also had to consider that the nameless man would kill me without reservation, so my first strike had to be my best. Could I do less to him than he would do to me? Worse, he intended to use the kidnapping to transport me to Dagger where the Council of Nine would have free rein to do what they wished with me in secret. There might be rumors, but nobody would know where I was, or that I’d been tortured and killed. To Dire, I’d simply disappeared in Vin, after being abducted from a ship.
My mission to negotiate a treaty failed if that happened. Others would die because of my failure. I couldn’t do less than my best.
All that flashed through my mind after hearing the whisper of material rubbing against material, as someone snuck up on us. Actually, I believe there might be two of them since the sounds came from slightly different directions. If they woke my captor, my chance at escape might not come again.
The pair sneaking up on us might be rescuers. Or rapists. Or thieves.
No matter, my pot shard had already sliced through the last fibers of the bindings, the shard was held tightly as a small knife might be. If the people creeping up on us woke the bounty hunter, and he killed or ran them off, he would naturally check to see if I was tied—and he would find my ropes cut and a little pottery knife in my hand.
A second chance might not come, so I steeled myself to use the pot shard to slice his throat while my other hand reached for the rock I’d identified earlier. A slashing cut followed by a rock from the darkness would end him.
Another sound broke the night air. A sort of a tap of wood. Not loud. Unnoticed by anyone not listening or more than a few steps away. Then a second sound. A short hiss followed by a solid thump.
A groan followed, as well as the rush of four feet.
They had passed right by me. Two men had rushed the bounty hunter in the dark. A few grunts and other unknown sounds that I assumed were them hitting him, and then they returned to me. Before I could move, the rock was knocked from my hand, and the potshard went flying as I tried to protect myself from a fall. Hands grasped me. A dark figure cuffed me with the heel of his hand so hard I nearly passed out. He hissed, “Quiet.”
The other man rolled me over on my back, roughly took my upper arm near my shoulder in one hand and drove his fist between my knees. In a twist of movement, he used those two points to lift me over his shoulder as he stood.