Chapter Fifty
Slave On The Run
???
The Agni Slave Camps, Zarynth.
Kyra.
Kyra streaked through the dusty camp. She was human. A slave. Desperate to escape.
Behind her, Gedeon shouted, ‘We have a runner!’
Her bare feet slapped the ground as she kept her pace, not too fast, not too slow. Just as Gedeon had said.
Within seconds, a swarm of slavers surrounded her, whips drawn, swords unsheathed. She finally slowed, plastering on an expression of utter hopelessness that her bid for freedom had failed, as she beheld her oppressors.
She’d been here before. Only it had been Union soldiers that entrapped her the last time, and she’d been splattered head to toe in mercenaries blood.
The scar of that Union cunt’s whip tingled on her back, and the slight tremble through her body was not part of her act as one of the slaver’s stepped from the circle.
He wore a different colour coat to the rest, a darker brown than Gedeon’s. Almost black. A face marred with scars stared down at her. Shallow, messy scars, like the ones that appear from desperate, defensive nails. ‘Your name.’
Kyra kept her mouth shut.
He struck her across the face with the back of his hand. Her cheek stung as she forced the anger writhing within her to subdue. ‘Your name.’
‘She won’t talk, Commander,’ came Gedeon’s voice abruptly from behind, adopting a higher pitch than usual. ‘She does not speak the common tongue.’
The commander merely grunted, then cocked his head to one side. ‘Her trade. What is it?’
‘Wielder, sir.’
‘Is she now?’ said the commander. He began to circle her. Directly behind, he stopped. He was close. Too close. Almost pressed against her back. ‘Do you know what happens to deserters, girl?’
Kyra said nothing.
A hand came around to grab her chin, forcing her gaze west of the camp, where an array of posts stood erected in a line.
A mangled corpse was pinned to every single one.
‘They become a feast for the crows.’ He let go of her and moved to face her once more.
‘She is a little old to be a wielder. Why is she still here?’
‘She was a miner, sir,’ Gedeon said. ‘But she has been hiding her magic. I witnessed it myself. Unbound by iron, she was able to wield her magic.’
‘Clever girl,’ the commander said, with an approving nod. He stepped back. ‘Show me.’
Gedeon repeated the order in what she could only assume was the Agni language.
With immense gratitude that she’d actually mastered her regular magic weeks ago, Kyra brought her hands into herself, then let them fly out in front of her, creating a force-blast so strong it knocked a close-by slaver off his feet.
Satisfaction befell the commander’s face. ‘You are quite the wielder. Her Eminence is very interested in wielders. This you know, or you would not have tried to hide it. But your magic just saved your life, girl. ’
He turned to the nearest slaver. ‘I want her on the first carriage to the capital in the morning.’
The soldier inclined her head. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Take her to my tent,’ the commander ordered. ‘Come for her at dawn.’
That hadn’t been part of the plan. Gedeon’s voice swam with uncertainty as he said, ‘Your tent, sir?’
The commander levelled him with a cool glare.
Kyra had the feeling he was the type of man that was rarely questioned.
‘Did you think this futile escape act would go unpunished, soldier?’ He glanced at the corpses rotting on the poles.
‘Her Eminence prefers her wielders unscathed. But there are other ways to punish treachery. Ways that remain unseen.’ The odd gleam of excitement in his eyes sent fear retching through Kyra’s body.
The commander said again, with more vigor this time, ‘Take her to my tent.’
Not one of the surrounding slavers questioned it, or even looked remotely surprised by the order. Not. One.
Hands yanked at Kyra’s arms and then she was being hauled back to the camp, marched between two slavers who couldn’t seem to look at her.
Gedeon could do nothing to help her. Not if they wanted to keep their cover. He was watching them take her, and even with the distance between them, she could see the pure rage in his eyes. The fear, the panic.
She could feel it.
And then his voice was in her mind, urgent and clear. Kyra!
Impossible.
He said, You will have to kill him. You cannot let him-
Don’t follow, she told him earnestly, swallowing her shock. They can’t suspect a thing.
You cannot mean to-!
What choice do I have?
His fury was burning hot, a scorching rage, even in her mind. I will find another way.
Gedeon.
Kyra, don’t-
Trust me.
No… Kyra-!
She slammed walls up in her mind, blocking him out.
???
On the edge of the commander’s bed, Kyra sat shuddering. Tears welled up and slid effortlessly down her face, mingling with the blood bespattered on her cheeks.
Behind her, the commander lay dead.
He’d unbuckled his belt, kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his jacket the moment he’d stepped inside. All the while barely taking his predator’s gaze from her. Her daring glare had excited him further. He’d told her that. Liked that she wasn’t as submissive as the others.
It had been those foul words that changed her mind.
She could have endured it if it meant getting to the capital without causing fuss. Would have done it if it meant that her path to Rosary remained clear.
But when his hands reached up to touch her, to rip the clothes from her skin, she couldn’t bear it. Not only for herself, but for the countless women that would come after. For the ones that had to endure him before.
It was for them that she cried. It was for them he was now drowned in his own blood.
She took down those mental walls. There were questions, so many questions she had about the mind-talk, but they could wait. Gedeon?
I’m here. The reply was instant. He’s dead, isn’t he?
Yes.
Are you hurt?
No.
A pause. Are you lying?
She was. As she’d reached for the first weapon she’d spied in his tent, a quill with a menacingly pointed nib, he’d hit her hard around the face. It had been hard enough to draw blood, the ring on his finger slicing open her cheek. She buried the quill deep into his windpipe soon after.
Rather than lie again, she told Gedeon, I’ll be alright. Where are you?
Outside the tent. Another pause. I would not have let it happen, Kyra. I would have killed him myself before I let him touch you.
I can handle myself.
That I see. That I know.
Their path to Dracyg was now compromised beyond belief. What were the chances they would let her live, when they found the commander dead in the morning? Still, she regretted nothing. I have an idea.
Speak it.
Will you allow me to lead?
Gedeon was quiet for a moment. That depends on the idea.
With great restraint, Kyra refrained from reminding him that it had been his plan that had got them into this mess in the first place. Start screaming bloody murder.
You want them to know?
Being a wielder is clearly held in high regard. Would your mother condone the death of one, for taking the life of a useless, replaceable human commander?
That is a reckless assumption to make.
Restraint be damned. Your well thought out plan has landed us here. Perhaps a little recklessness wouldn’t be amiss.
Quiet fell between them once more.
Then Gedeon said, Ready yourself.
Before she could respond with a snarky comment of triumph, he blazed into the tent, took one look at the dead commander and bellowed, ‘MURDER!’
Kyra backed away from the tent entrance, fighting every impulse to unleash her power upon the four guards that bore down upon her within seconds. Gedeon played his part so well, that even he felt like the enemy.
Those eyes were two marbles of black ice.
They dragged her from the tent kicking and spitting and threw her to the ground. Another commander was before her in an instant. Kyra recognised the dark brown coat. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ she demanded of her soldiers.
‘Commander Ren is dead, sir,’ the one to Kyra’s right said.
‘Ren is dead?’ The commander’s dark features were impossible to read, though she certainly wasn’t sad about it. She looked at Gedeon. ‘You found him?’
‘Yes, sir. This woman tried to run not two hours ago. Commander Ren took her to his tent and ordered that she be collected at dawn.’ Kyra prayed the commander could not hear the blanket of disgust on his voice as clearly as she could.
‘I heard a commotion so thought to check on Ren. But he was already dead. She is a wielder, bound for the capital, sir.’
The commander sighed. ‘If it were up to me, it wouldn’t matter what her trade is. But alas, these wielders are like stardust to Her Eminence. We will not wait for the dawn, lest this animal get any more fruitful ideas. Send for a carriage at once.’
Kyra could have sagged with relief. One of the soldiers saluted and moved to fulfil the order.
From her breast pocket, the commander picked a vial no bigger than her little finger. It was filled to the brim with a swirling black liquid. She handed it to Gedeon. ‘Ensure she is chained and ready by the time the escort comes.’
Gedeon nodded once, taking the vial. ‘Hold her.’
Kyra was grasped again, one of the soldiers taking a fistful of her hair and forcing her head back.
Gedeon unstoppered the vial. Then none too gently yanked her jaw open and poured its contents down her throat.
There was nothing but cruelty on his face, but his mind-voice was calm. This will freeze your magic and render you unconscious. You may not wake until we are in Dracyg.
Indeed, it was like swallowing an icicle whole as it trickled down her throat. She told him scathingly, You’re a little too good at this.
Something like sorrow flickered across his face, but the mask of cruelty swiftly snapped back. See you on the other side. Try not to kill anyone else.
Kyra spat at his feet for good measure, and then she knew no more.