Page 40 of A Trial of Fate

The mages of the human kingdom placed wards across vital areas of their territory so our kind could not decipher any scent or distinct markings. It was used in countless battles against our two species for land rights and treaties that seemed to change with each new human king or queen. Currently, King Taran was rumored to keep his hunters and mages complacent and obedient by paying them handsomely to keep his borders protected. They bounced to different locations throughout the mainland—always at the beck and call of their king.

The wagon jolted and threw me to the opposite side, my face colliding with the bars, causing my vision to blur once more. The two—well, at least I thought there were only two—sitting in the front gave no indication they knew or cared that I was being tossed around like a rag doll. I was so weak. Exhausted by the weight of the irons and the effect they had on me. But I knew I could not give up trying to escape. If the hunters were successful and brought me into their lair, I would likely not come out alive.

I tried to sit up, but the heavy chains clinked and rattled, causing too much noise to go unnoticed. Instead, I decided to find something to lift the bottom of my hood to assess my surroundingsbetter. A piece of the wooden wagon floor splintered upward, offering me just enough of an edge to move my hood. The only problem was the damn gag that was double or even triple-knotted behind my head. There was no doubt the white cloth had turned crimson from my injuries and the slap from one of the drivers. If I ever got out of these chains… he would be the first one I went after.

Another large bump jolted the cage, giving me the push I needed to expose the bottom half of my face from my hood. I moved my tongue around the gag and gathered as much saliva and blood as I could manage. Leaning my head near the bars, I tilted my lips so they were parallel to the cage.

Come on. One more jolt should do it.

The gods must have been smiling at me. Or laughing because, to be honest, this situation was not a blessing.

My head bobbed with the rhythm of the wagon, my head and drops of my blood. I felt the thick liquid drip from my mouth through the gag and prayed it would land on the rocks below. I quickly pulled the hood back over my head to hide any evidence of my attempt to call for aid.

Please let it be enough for someone to find me.

I sent a prayer to the Mother and Father, asking them to give me the strength to fight until help arrived. To not give into death if it was offered. To be brave enough to take a breath when all I wanted to do was stop breathing. I asked them to help me so I could help all their children. I was the chosen champion of the trials. I refused to die here, wherever here was.

Another day passed on my rickety ride of silent destitution. I could feel the stillness of death slowly creep in through the surroundings, shrouded in blackness beneath my hood. The air began to thin, and I knew we were climbing high into the eastern mountains of the human territory. This place was a barren rocky desert with little to no life flourishing. The red and tan mountains of this area were isolated with no established villages or cities for miles in any direction. A perfect hideout for the hunters because no one would think of settling in this area for long. The vegetation was practically non-existent against the cliffs’ salt rock top, which held endless natural tunnel systems for them to hide in.

The wheels stopped moving, and my cage was lifted from the back of the wagon. Bars on each corner extended from the top, allowing hunters in the front and back to rest the bars on their shoulders and carry me by foot. Others, who were on horseback, began dismantling the wagon and hid the evidence among the rocks.

We continued for another hour or so, finally cresting the incline and flattening our route. Through the seams of my hood and the cold feeling in the air, I could tell that the night once again caressed the sky. Suddenly, we came to a stop, and my cage was lowered to the ground. Fear settled in my gut. I knew we had finally reached the lair of the human hunters.

Hands forcibly grabbed and dragged me from my mobile prison. I kicked at them and tried to fight against their hold and squirm out of their grasp. There was no possible way I was going to escape, but I wanted them to know I was not going to go quietly or planning to make this easy.

Fuck that.

Another blow crashed into my face, and my nose cracked as blood gushed from my nostrils.Ouch.I choked on the gag as my hood was violently pulled off my head. A hand grabbed my hair and forced my head back to look upward as feet kicked the back of my knees, forcing me to kneel on the ground.

Fantastic, I thought.These guys really know how to give you the royal treatment around here—forcinga bound and gagged female to kneel before them so they can feel powerful. How mighty of them.

What kind of creatures would do this? What purpose did this serve to be so cruel and destructive? I had no idea why the hunters did these things, and I was pretty sure I would never understand why.

With a busted nose and a bloodied gag, I slowly opened my eyes and looked up to see the face of the hunters who captured me. In their typical fashion, all of them were heavily cloaked, hiding their shined-out eyes from the last remaining rays of light from the setting sun. The two hunters with their hands on my shoulders had dark hair and tanned, almost blackened skin, with rough callouses clinging to their palms. I could hear their deep chuckles of amusement as their leader stepped forward from a line of them and removed his cloak.

Opal shined-out eyes gleamed in the setting sun, but there was no light inside this man. His full beard parted into twin braids of auburn curls while his smooth, pale shaved head gleamed in the light.

My stomach flipped as he reached out and grasped my chin in his rough hand. His fingernails were cracked and caked with dirt. His scent reminded me of scum, of something unclean and twisted, just like his soul.

“Those eyes…” he purred with an amused grin. “Our mage has been looking for you, half-breed. I couldn’t believe our luck when we found you sitting all alone on that beach. It was almost too easy.”

One of the men who held me chuckled. “The mage loves to experiment with half-breeds. Your tainted blood cannot be cured, but we can gain knowledge on how you creatures operate.”

No. How did they know I was only part shifter?

I had no idea what kind of tortuous experiments they planned to do, but I refused to cower. I refused to scream out or cry. Instead, I kicked my head back, colliding with one of my captors’ faces, likely breaking the bridge of his nose.

“Hold her down,” their leader shouted as the other hunter I injured roared in pain. I was forced flat on my stomach into the dirt, with a knee in my back and a boot on my neck.

“Gods… Fuck,” one of the hunters swore with disgust. “She smells foul. These shifters are nothing more than animals.”

I squirmed under their hold, but the pressure on my neck was starting to cut off my breathing. A hand grabbed my hair once more, forcefully turning me to look up at their leader. I stared at him with fire blazing in my amber eyes, refusing to show my fear. I would not scream. And I wouldneversubmit. My animal raged inside me, encouraging me to fight back.

“Lock her away in the cell until the mage is ready to begin.” The cold, menacing smile the leader gave me sent a tingling chill down my spine. It was a look of pure evil, and worst of all, he seemed almost cheerful. He held a sinister kind of darkness with no thread of kindness. The man was bred… No, he was created to hunt down and kill my kind. And by the looks of it, he enjoyed it.

I could no longer smell the salty air of the sea or the rich, thick forest of my faraway home. I prayed that someone, anyone from my pack, was searching for me. That the hunters missed covering a track or that my blood was enough to leave a marker for my pack to find me.

It was my only hope.

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