Chapter 21 #3
I ran the opposite direction. If I could just slow the bandits, I’d give the girls time enough to disappear.
I planted myself straight in the path of the first horse.
Without hesitating, I reached for the thread of magic that led through the wood to the shrine, lifting it in my mind like a string to block the way.
The horse reared in front of me. Another one thundered past, crashing through the brush after the girls.
Hands grabbed me and hauled me up, giving me a good view of the chaos.
One of the bandit’s horses had tripped, rolled, and come back up riderless and shaking off leaves.
I couldn’t spot Dacia or the others. Someone shoved me into the front of the saddle, ripping at the wounds on my thighs and exposing my naked body under the cloak.
“Let me go,” I screamed, squirming and bucking to get off.
They fought to keep me seated, firmly lashing an arm across my hips as they spun the horse deeper into the woods. I tried to turn and scratch at my captor’s eyes, but he held me too tight and brought the horse up to a gallop through the thickening trees.
I hoped with all my heart that Dacia was able to find safety.
It felt excruciating to leave her again, but it was impossible to ignore that I’d been back with them for mere moments, and I’d already brought such woe.
I felt responsible for the bandits coming, in the way that I seemed to draw trouble no matter where I went.
I did not belong to her, to love, to anywhere other than the strange, liminal world of Death and magic.
I wanted to cry, but there was no crying being dragged off by bandits.
We rode through the woods, into the darker, older part of the forest. Soon after, the bandit stopped and tied a mask around my eyes.
I laughed as he knotted it. “What is the point of this? I’d have to care about your camp to tell someone about it.”
He did not answer, only urged the horse on.
I gritted my teeth as I tried to manage the pain in my thighs and hold Dacia’s cloak closed around my nakedness.
Despite knowing where we would end up, I hated not being able to see where we were going.
And through it all, my ears strained, still listening for a rider and the familiar stride of a massive black stallion.
When we finally stopped, the bandit dismounted and hauled me after him.
“I can walk,” I snarled. But he threw me over his shoulder, carried me some way, and pitched me off. I landed with a hard thump on the ground, my body crying out.
For a moment, I didn’t move, not even to cover myself with the cloak.
I wished with all my heart to be home with him, wished to be at my little desk in his chambers or in my blue room.
If only I had listened and tried to understand instead of reacting so impulsively to a nightmare.
Renaud had never hurt me just to hurt me.
He had made so many allowances for me, and yet I had made none for him.
I squeezed my eyes tight from the burn of tears.
I could escape and make it back from here—I knew I could.
Another body thumped beside me, followed by a small whimper. Recognition bolted through me, my whole body coming alive and tearing me away from thoughts of Renaud. “Dacia?” I whispered cautiously.
“Salomé,” she cried.
I rolled toward her, burying my blindfolded face into her back. I felt miserable and elated to have her so close—it was my selfishness that clung to every second with her, when she should be safe in the village. “I tried to give you time to get away.”
“I couldn’t run fast enough. What do they want?”
“I don’t know.”
We were silent, and the sound of horses and men and the smell of cook fires drifted around us.
“Did you see where they took us?”
“Their camp,” I whispered. I could escape, but what about Dacia? It would take all my power to bring her with me. My lies would be exposed, and she would see me as I truly was. A witch. She’d despise me. But how could I leave her behind?
As I turned these thoughts over in my mind, the soft thump of boots sounded closer. We both stiffened and quieted, Dacia pulling close to me.
No matter what, I was determined to protect her.
“Think the Baron sent them as spies?” a man’s voice said, low and thoughtful.
Us? Spies?
“If so, they were terrible ones. Thrashing about the forest like bleating calves.”
The other made a hmmph sound.
Suddenly, a large hand roughly pulled me up and ripped the cloth away, allowing me to face our captors.
They were the two bandits I had followed in the forest in what felt like an era ago.
The green-eyed man crouched in the center of the low-slung canvas tent, watching me with that uncanny fox-like gaze.
Off to the side were rough beds in some straw and a small table and stool.
The one who spoke was the same massive mountain of a man who had been with him before.
He hauled Dacia up beside me and took off her mask as well.
Dacia pressed her lips tight, lifting her chin without a sound, eyes shining with unshed tears. I was so proud.
“She’s a fiery one,” the big man said.
“Fiery?” I spit. “We are not sheep to be herded. You captured us!”
The bigger man looked suspicious, and I felt I could read each thought he had about me as it crossed his face, with time to spare. But the green-eyed bandit betrayed nothing. “What were you women doing so far out in the forest? With a soldier of the Baron, no less.” His eyes gleamed as he spoke.
“We were visiting an altar,” I said. My gaze automatically darted to the seam in the tent and the sliver of sunlit green woods beyond.
“I wouldn’t,” the man with the green eyes said softly. “Though you’re welcome to try.”
“Who are you?” Dacia asked. “Where have you brought us?”
The bandit stood, and with a tiny smile fixed in the corner of that sandy beard he replied, to me, not to her. “An altar? But you are naked. Was this a gathering of witches?”
I clutched at my borrowed cloak, my stomach dropping. I couldn’t even remember the lies I had told Dacia already. “I was waylaid …” I began, but trailed off.
“She is from another village. We are friends. She was meeting us there,” Dacia said.
“We were at the shrine of the Way of Christ. There have been many missing women recently and we came to pray for protection.” Her blue eyes shone with innocence and purity, and I could tell the men couldn’t help but want to believe her.
If she could talk us out of here, I wouldn’t have to reveal myself.
“The shrine of the Way of Christ? I have not heard of that one, though I am admittedly not a deeply religious man,” the green-eyed bandit said.
“It’s an old shrine in the woods, off the path. It has Christ at one of the Stations of the Cross,” Dacia said. “The old women in the village said to find it and leave our offerings and prayers for protection.”
The green-eyed man’s eyes narrowed, looking me over as if I were a sort of puzzle he was trying to unravel.
The light in his eyes glowed so strong, I could have sworn they would burst into flames.
“You are the resurrected prostitute from Riquewihr,” he said.
“The one they say has been stealing away little girls. Why were you in the forest today?”
I swallowed, trying to hide how unnerved I was. “Who?”
“You know who,” he said evenly, his uncanny gaze meeting mine. “The one who went missing after her death. From her grave. They are telling quite a story about you.”
“The brothel owner is full of lies,” Dacia said. “He sold her.”
“Sold you where?”
“Colmar. I’ve been in Colmar.”
“No, mademoiselle,” he said almost apologetically. “You have not.”
I closed my eyes, feeling Dacia stiffen beside me.
“So, you’re a witch,” he surmised. “Unless you are truly hiding fangs, blood thirst, or wings?”
“I’m not …” I swallowed. “Hiding anything. Nor am I a witch.” I lifted my chin. “What is your name?”
“Tobin,” he answered easily. “And you are?”
“Perchta,” I lied.
Dacia didn’t flinch.
He pursed his lips with a wry grin. “That is not the name they gave in the village for the resurrected woman.”
I shrugged. “I told you. I don’t know who this village woman is.”
He sighed and looked at the ground, as if thinking.
The next moment happened so fast, I didn’t even see him move. Before I could blink, Tobin caught me with my arms pinned behind my back and the knife at my throat. I tried to rip my wrists away, but he held them firmly with one hand. Dacia cried out, but the big man grabbed her.
Tobin’s lips came to my ear, and he spoke in the same pleasant tone he’d taken so far. “I’m going to ask once, and if I think you lie, I’ll cut your throat, witch.”
I nodded, squeezing my eyes shut. Lord Death. Lord Death.
But no thundering warhorse came to my call.
“What is your name?” he repeated.
I swallowed and the edge of the knife pressed against the flat of the blade. “They call me Perchta,” I hissed.
He gave a tsk of displeasure, but the knife did not move. “Did the Baron send you?”
I opened my mouth to argue, but it was Dacia’s voice that answered.
“Why would the Baron send us?”
“To find our camp.”
I laughed.
“Then why would you bring us here?” Dacia said. “We don’t care about your camp. If you are an enemy of the Baron, you are a friend to us.”
“I have never even seen his face or spoken to him,” I said. “Why would I spy for him?”
“Security, pardons, freedom, favor.” But the knife fell away.
“I have need of none of those things,” I said, thinking of everything Lord Death had offered me.
“Then why are you running naked around the forest?”
I shook my head. “That has nothing. I mean … as I said, I was waylaid. And lost.” Renaud’s words from the meadow came back to me: We are making something powerful together. I swallowed, feeling small and meaningless.
“We are prostitutes, good sir,” Dacia admitted, and I wished she had not, though the black cloaks had already given it away.
There was just something different about bringing it into the spoken air—especially in a camp of lawless men.
“Devout Christian women, but in dire circumstances. We are no friends of the Baron. It’s true he sent his man with us to protect us, but he has done nothing but torment our village with taxes and labor.
Meanwhile, girls have gone missing one after another, and he will not listen to our pleas to find out why and put an end to it. ”
The men looked at each other, weighing her words. “Tie her up,” Tobin said, gesturing to me. “I don’t want her running off. Not until I figure out where she came from and am sure it’s not that bastard trying to flush us out.”
My stomach sank. “At least take Dacia back to the village! She will be missed.”
Both men gave me a withering look of disgust—as if they couldn’t believe I would even try.
“You don’t understand,” I said. “I’m not supposed to be here!
” I was supposed to be in my chambers, in bed, recovering, having Renaud change my bandages and smooth my legs with his bare hands.
I had made a terrible mistake when I ran.
I could see that now. No one had ever treated me as well as Renaud, and I should have trusted that truth rather than my own fear.
The big one grabbed me.
I screamed, hands up and fighting—careless to modesty, either in body or spirit. I fought, but that mountain of a man held me like I was nothing.
“Wait, Jon,” Tobin said.
Jon froze. I shoved myself out of his grasp, breathing hard, hair wild in my face.
“What is on your legs?”
I lifted my chin. “I am injured. I was way—”
“Let me see,” Tobin ordered.
I did not have a choice. Jon turned me over as easily as a doll and the two men inspected the back of my legs.
Dacia met my eyes. It was such a familiar look—one we’d exchanged a million times before. I had once had my body inspected and used by many men. In Death’s home, my body had been my own—or at least until … My whole body prickled with pain and sweat and I felt raw and exposed in front of these men.
“These are going to rot if not treated,” Tobin said, his face pale and expression drawn, as if he had seen a ghost. “They are already inflamed.”
“The healing pools would be good. Then some hot wine and honey,” Jon murmured. “I don’t think it can wait.”
I was surprised by his knowledge of healing, but then I imagined somebody in this group needed to know. Bandithood probably came with a lot of injuries.
Tobin sighed. “Take her to the pools, clean her up, find her some clothes. Then we’ll talk more.”
Jon hauled me by my arm toward the tent door, but I pulled back. “Let my friend come with me. I’m afraid to be alone.”
“You will be safe with Jon. I swear it,” Tobin said.
Dacia stepped toward me, a firm look on her face as she addressed Tobin. “I will need to help wash her wounds. I swear on Christ’s empty tomb we will return.”
Tobin sighed as if weary of all this. “Take Leland to be sure they don’t slip off.”
“I shall not allow that,” Jon said firmly, a little scorn in his tone. Tobin didn’t argue.
Jon herded us together and pushed us out into the open camp. I pulled my borrowed cloak tight against the rain and ducked my head. Dacia kept close beside me.
Outside the tent, the camp was full of men, and they all tracked us with their gazes. How did I shake off this terrible draw of darkness?
As if hearing my thoughts, Dacia reached out and grabbed my hand and I gripped her tight.