Page 47 of Null & Void

The creek, which is only about two feet wide and ankle deep in this part, is calming. Moonlight bounces off the tiny ripples as the water cascades over rocks and stones. I crouch to wash my hands and take a few big draughts from my cupped hands.

The ground crunches behind me as I stand up. I whip around toward the noise as a shocking pain explodes at the base of my skull. My body crumbles as I see the feet of at least four men before I hit the ground and darkness closes in.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I’ve been awake intermittently for a few hours now. Long enough to figure out what Duckhead’s small horse cart was for: me. It’s been raining on and off. I’m still soaked from one particularly heavy downpour that had everyone stop and run for cover for half an hour. Luckily, I had one of these disgusting hessian sacks to shield me. Or I might have only been wet, instead of wet and stinking like a cross between moldy potatoes and rancid grain, with a touch of drogalyf. I wouldn’t mind smoking some drogalyf right now.

I wonder if it’s the sweet chestnut pony pulling the cart. I hear quite a few men and horses, more than the handful I saw in Teorann all those weeks past. We travel through the night, the light under these sacks starting to turn golden from the morning. I thought that would be a good thing, the sun rising. But after only fifteen minutes of the sun beating down on the sacks, it hits me. I can now add hot, steamy, and musty to my disgusting fragrance.

I’ve given up pulling at my bindings. I’m hog-tied with rope, and they’ve taken my weapons. They even found the lockpicks I’d hidden. Or that’s what I hope they were doing, since I am no longer wearing the fabric around my chest that they’d been sewn into. Not that I would have been able to reach them trussed up like this and boxed in by multiple heavy somethings.

My hands and feet are numb, my knees and shoulders aching, and my head is pounding. Plus, my wrists and ankles are rubbed raw from trying to pull myself free. I hate the smell of hessian at the best of times, but this soup of foul smells is making me want to vomit.

I’m surprisingly calm. I expected my rage to be thundering around my chest, trying to smash her way out of my throat. But not a flutter or a tingle. It’s not because I feel safe, or think the others are going to save me. In fact, I’m confident they won’t save me, given my circumstances. My rage has deserted me.

I wonder if a weather Gifted Patron is here. Rain wasn’t expected, so it was mighty convenient to roll in while I was being kidnapped, washing away all traces of me.

I can see why they thought a small, pony-pulled cart would work better. Less weight and drag means less obvious tracks to follow. Thank the Divine I swallowed my pride and told the group about seeing Duckhead the other night. Oh, that’s right, no I bloody didn’t. They have no idea who’s taken me. This, of course, is if they haven’t all been slaughtered.

And there she is, my rage scratches at my throat and across my heart. My face is hot, and it’s not from the sun hitting the sacks.

My stomach starts to cramp from hunger, thirst, and the need to relieve myself. I’m gagged with a vile piece of fabric that tastes like feet. My mouth is dry, and whenever I manage to produce any saliva, it soaks away into the gag. It’s wrapped around my head too, stifling me even more than the hessian sacks. They either can’t hear me, or they’re ignoring my screams. I’ll save my energy.

We’ve been stopped for around ten minutes. All the voices are muffled so I can’t understand what’s going on. Blinding afternoon light shocks my eyes as the sacks are ripped off me without warning. Hands roughly grab my knees, dragging me to the end of the cart. I have a moment to recognize one of the men from Teorann before he tries to haul me up and over his shoulder. I headbutt him in the nose as a thank you.

I’m thrown unceremoniously. Hog-tied, I have no way to brace myself or catch my fall as I hit the uneven ground. Pain blooms in my shoulder and the wind is knocked out of me.

“What the fuck, Kino?” demands an angry voice. Duckhead.

“Fucken’ bitch headbutt me!” Kino says, then spits a wad of blood at me, hitting my jaw and neck. He stalks off and leaves me there, holding his head back to try to stem the bleeding from his nose. I hope I broke the fucker.

Duckhead crouches down in front of me, watching Kino stalk away before turning his eyes on me. He smiles unkindly, and his lip pulls up, revealing a delightful view of his rotting teeth. Adding that to my disgusting list of smells for the day.

“Has it clicked in yet, little assassin? Have you figured it all out?”

I frown at him, unable to respond. Has what clicked? That I’ve been kidnapped? Because I’m fairly confident I picked up on that within the first few moments I opened my eyes.

He continues, using a dirty rag to wipe Kino’s bloodied spit off me. “I’m sure you recognize me. Thank you, by the way, for stumbling directly into our path. Made it much easier to take you, even if it was the drunk prince on watch. He didn’t even notice us slipping away with you.”

They’re alive. If the mercenaries slipped away with me unnoticed, they must have been left alive and unharmed. At least, I hope so.

He watches me for a few seconds before cutting the bindings around my feet. Hauling me up under the arms, I sag against him a little as I find my numb feet and sore joints are unable to take my weight so suddenly. Not waiting for me to acclimate myself to standing, he roughly drags me into a copse of trees. We’re in an area not too dissimilar from where I was kidnapped, if not a little flatter and easier to traverse.

Taking a long rope off his shoulder and tying it around my waist, Duckhead attaches me to a tree. He undoes my hand bindings, and the relief in my shoulders is immediate, except for the throbbing pain of how I landed when Kino threw me. Not given much reprieve, he ties my wrists together in front of me. I have a small amount of give, attached to this massive tree trunk.

Without further word, he leaves me there. Immediately, I take the gag off and out of my mouth, trying to encourage some saliva to generate. The way he’s tied me to the tree, the knot is on the other side of the trunk, and my slack is not long enough to reach it, even if it didn’t slide around as I moved. A sharp rock will have to do.

A burning need to relieve myself overtakes me and I go behind the tree, as far as my rope slack allows. It’s awkward, and I pee on my bare feet, adding yet another unpleasant smell to my collection. I dig my foot into a bit of earth, trying to clean it, but it’s pointless.

I’m desperately thirsty, and the hunger pains are escalating. I sit down with my back against the trunk to watch the chaotic situation in front of me. I’ve counted around a dozen men, all Erduborn, none of them Gifted. Or at least, none that I can see from here. Every man here has their own horse. On the one hand, being surrounded by a dozen men is not a great situation to be in, but twelve men on horses will surely be easy for the others to track, even in the rain, which has started again in earnest. That’s if they’re coming to my rescue.

No sharp rocks or stones are in my reach to use on my bindings, and the tree’s branches and sticks are much too flexible to be of use. At least I am able to get some water, albeit slowly. Cupping my hands and drinking small sips of rainwater is a luxury for my parched mouth and throat.

Tents have been erected. All the men are huddled inside out of the rain while I’m out here. Not that it matters when my clothes are still damp from earlier. I sit with my eyes closed and allow the rain to wash away the disgusting hessian sack and other foul smells I’ve been collecting.

I’m dozing against the tree, trying to sleep away my hunger, when Kino comes stomping toward me. He throws an apple, a chunk of hard cheese, and a slightly moldy bread roll onto the wet earth at my feet. He glares at me, and I smile sweetly at him, pointing to his swollen nose and exaggerating a pout. A kick of mud and debris flies at me before he stalks off.

I eat everything, leaving only the tiny apple stalk behind, not wanting to waste anything when I’m unsure of my next meal. It was all gritty from the dirt, but I was so hungry I hardly even chewed. It wasn’t enough food, so my stomach still growls pitifully.

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