Winds of Chaos (Tainted Blood Book 3), Page 3

  Soldiers appeared at both ends of the hall. The first tapped his sword against the stone floor to get their attention, then began barking instructions for them to follow. With armed soldiers at the front and back, the line of prisoners were led up a stairwell and out through a back door. There in the middle of the dirt road were three caged carts, each attached to two heavy workhorses. Seeing the prisons on wheels, Viola was reminded of the first time she saw Jarlen. She knew what this meant and where they must be going.

  They were being taken to the pit...

  * * *

  Liam paced back and forth in front of the mirror in his room. Despite the old man’s perfectly straight back, he purposely hunched while practicing a walk in which he favored one leg. Given his substantial height, playing the part of a helpless old man was going to be difficult.

  The plan was to start collecting information from anywhere it could be found. Barmaids, soldiers who might have had too much to drink, and even former convicts who might loosen their lips at the promise of a few coins would all be perfect targets. In Liam’s experience, people felt most at ease when speaking with someone they regarded as harmless or even weak. If that was the part he needed to play, then so be it. He and the others were willing to do whatever it took to get Viola back safe and sound.

  A relentless hammering at his door broke his concentration. “Liam!” came the frantic shout from the hall. “Liam, come quick!” Unaccustomed to hearing the warrior so shaken, he grabbed his staff and raced for the door. The moment he flung it open, Thatra lunged through, nearly knocking him over. Snatching him by the collar, she pulled him out into the hall. Hooking the door with his foot, he just managed to close it before being led away.

  “Thatra, what is happening? Where are we going?” Liam asked, stumbling down the steps while trying to keep up. At the front of the inn were several people blocking the entrance, all gawking and pointing in the street. A heavy shoulder from Thatra made short work of troublesome humans, sending then stumbling to either side. Liam marched behind her, ignoring their complaints. Stopping in the street to stand next to her, his heart sank. “No,” he whispered to himself, watching the oncoming wagons roll towards them.

  All alone in the middle cage, Viola was curled up in a ball, covering her head as vegetables and the occasional rock came hurtling towards the cage. The bars intercepted most of the projectiles, but her eyes burned from the juice and fragments sprayed as cabbages and old apples burst on impact. Angry shouts came from all directions. More than one attempt was made to climb up the side of the cage to hurl objects at her from point-blank range. Laughing, the guards made a halfhearted effort to stop the rowdy city folks, but usually stalled long enough so they could get one clean throw in.

  Crying, she looked up just as a hurled apple caught her over her eye. A roar rose up from the crowd, applauding the lucky strike. A man pumped his fists in the air, taking credit for the throw. The blow hurt, but nowhere near as bad as seeing all these people root for her suffering. It made her sick to her stomach. Why did the humans hate her so much? Another man strolled alongside the cage, tossing a molded potato up in the air with one hand. He grinned and wound up, but had it knocked away before completing the throw. Confused at first, he suddenly grimaced in pain as his arm twisted up behind his back.

  “Attempt to hurt her again and I take this arm home with me,” Xavier growled in his ear.

  “What are you doing? Who the hell do you think yo—” A swift palm to the back of the neck silenced the man. Knees buckling, eyes rolling back, he sank to the ground. Leaping over his unconscious body, Xavier moved to the front of the crowd in plain view of Viola. Oh no, she thought, her mind spinning. No, no. Don’t you dare!

  “Viola!” he shouted, moving alongside the slowly moving cage. Those nearest to Xavier eyed him in confusion. “Viola, it’s going to be all right. I swear I’ll put an end to this madness. We’re going to get you out!” Stop it, you fool! Get away! “I don’t know what made you run off like that, but I’m sorry. Whatever I did to lose your trust, I’m so sorry!” I’m begging you, just stop! Realizing that speaking to him would only make things worse, her eyes pleaded, begging him to leave.

  “What is he doing?!” Thatra growled under her breath.

  “Stop him!” Liam blurted, glancing about while trying to decide the most direct path to take. Already, he could see Owen up ahead, pushing his way through the crowd.

  Wide-eyed, Viola shook her head in the most subtle way she could as Xavier climbed up the bars. Clinging to the side of the cage, he pressed his face between two bars. “Don’t you understand? We care about you. We’re not going to let this happen. We’ll get you out of this, somehow. I promise!”

  “Oh Xavier,” she whispered, too softly for anyone to hear. Forgive me...

  Rushing at him from across the cage, she latched on to his shoulders with both arms, her teeth sinking into the side of his neck. He cried out from the rush of pain, trying to push himself back as blood trickled down his neck. A panicked cry rose up from the stunned crowd. They began running about wildly, bumping into each other while trying to get away from the wild creature that had just lost its mind.

  “What are you—” Xavier’s strained voice choked off as he tried to bend her wrists back. Her teeth sank in deeper, making escape nearly impossible without damaging himself further. She clawed wildly at his face, her fingernails raking his cheeks and forehead. Surrounding guards sprung into action, one fumbling with a key while two others tried to pry hands off the innocent spectator. Pulling up and back on her hair, they finally got the wild creature to release. Mouth covered in blood, Viola clawed the air through the bars, snarling wildly at Xavier. They want to see a savage beast. Then I’ll give them what they want! When the cage door flung open, guards with wooden batons swarmed the cage.

  he hunter dragged his young apprentice back from the chaos when Xavier fell into his arms. “Sir, are you all right?” asked one of the guards. “Shall I fetch a healer?”

  “He be just fine,” Owen was quick to point out. “Serves the lad right for getting so close to that beast. I’ll take it from here.”

  “Beast?” Xavier echoed softly, clutching his wounded neck.

  “All right then. If he needs anything, just flag down one of the guards,” the soldier said before running back towards the cage to join the others.

  “She attacked me,” Xavier whispered in disbelief.

  “I can’t believe you’re this stupid!” Owen growled, pointing back to the cage. Soldiers swarmed her now, so many that she seemed to disappear among them. Batons came down again and again to the sound of wet, meaty smacks. The relentless beating seemed to go on forever, but when Xavier looked away, Owen grabbed his chin and forced his gaze back towards the carnage. “Don’t you dare look away, boy. This is your fault! Look at her! Take it all in and understand what you’ve done!”

  Seeing a person he cared about so deeply take such a savage beating, Xavier thought he was going to throw up. It had to be the hardest thing he had ever been forced to watch. Cheers from the crowd made the experience even more torturous. When the beating finally ceased, the guards stepped away from the unconscious girl. Seeing her bloody face, Xavier turned his head and spewed right there in the street. Normally Owen would have comforted his apprentice, but not this time. “Come on, boy,” he said, lifting Xavier by the collar. “You’ve done enough damage for one day.”

  * * *

  “Move your hand,” said Thatra. Air whistled through Xavier’s teeth as he slowly removed the rag from his wound, drying blood clinging to each fiber and making it stick. He winced as she dabbed at it with a second rag dipped in alcohol. “She got you pretty good. I imagine this will leave a scar.”

  “I still don’t understand,” Xavier mumbled, shifting on the bed. “Why would she attack me like that?”

  “She was protecting you,” Liam groaned, unable to keep the disgust from his voice. “She did the only thing she could to draw attention away from you
.”

  “She was protecting all of us,” Owen added. “What were you thinking, calling her by name, announcing to the world that ye knew her? If anyone in the city figures out she is with us, we’ll all be in chains. And that will be the end of it. She’ll never escape and neither will we.” He pinched an inch of air with two fingers. “An eyelash, boy. You came within an eyelash of exposing us.”

  “Luckily, Viola is not as stupid as you are!” Liam said. “She made a terrible sacrifice to save you from yourself.” Visibly frustrated, the mystic glared at the apprentice. Feeling foolish, Xavier looked away. Now that it was so obvious to him, he couldn’t blame the others for being angry. He had nearly ruined everything. Seeing the shame in the young man’s eyes, Liam waved at the air, his expression softening. “Forget it. It’s behind us now. Thanks to her quick thinking, we still have a chance of getting her out of this mess. She’s bought us some time, and we must not waste it. Every second counts, so let’s get to work.”

  Chapter 3

  Her body swaying with the wobble of the moving wagon, Viola’s eyes fluttered open. Murky confusion mixed with her slowly waking consciousness. A vision of falling batons flashed across her cloudy vision as she blinked, fingers twitching. Suddenly alert with fear, she sat up with a gasp. Shrieking in pain, she gripped her shoulder before gently lying back down. Now aware of the lingering effects, her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. That savage beating was the last thing she could recall.

  “Awake, eh?” grunted the soldier riding alongside the wagon. “I wouldn’t try that again if I were you. Next time we won’t be so gentle about it. You’re lucky the king wants you alive, otherwise we would have just finished the job. Savage! Monster! If it were up to me your remains would be swinging from a tree!”

  His anger rising with each word, the soldier went on and on with his empty threats. Perceived bravery certainly came easy while addressing a caged creature. But his barking soon became nothing but distant noise falling on deaf ears. Blocking him out completely, all Viola could think about was the terrible act she had committed against someone she cared for deeply. It had to be done. I had no choice. By playing the part of a savage animal who attacked anyone who got too close, she had all but absolved Xavier of any dealings with her. Now no one would ever suspect they were actually friends.

  That last thought pained her to no end. Were they still friends? How could it be? Did he even understand what she had been forced to do? She could still taste his blood in her mouth. As disturbing as it was even to her, she relished the sweetness of that lingering taste. In a most intimate way, it was a part of him, a memory she could store away in the back of her mind. After all, that very well have been the last time she would ever touch him. The thought of that made her sick. Was that how he would remember her, as some brutal, out-of-control animal who had attacked him in the midst of some perverted bloodlust? Here she was being taken away, forced into the unknown, and all she could think about was how she would be remembered in Xavier’s eyes. It was all she could do to not cry out in agony.

  She managed to sit up, realizing for the first time that her physical condition wasn’t as bad as it should have been. Sure, she was in pain from head to toe. But after that beating, it was a miracle she was even conscious this soon. She licked her lips in thought, the lingering taste of blood growing faint, but still there.

  So that must be it. Xavier’s blood had accelerated her healing, possibly the only laberath trademark she was actually glad for. A thought popped into her head. It was beyond preposterous, but she couldn’t help herself. In some warped way, she liked the idea of Xavier working from within her. It was as if he were still here, with her, aiding her on her journey from beyond. She knew it was crazy, but still embraced the warm thought as something special, a final memory of him she could hold close to her heart.

  Only now realizing that the soldier had stopped browbeating her, she could see the open sand pit coming into view. Each time she saw it, it looked completely different for some reason. It always seemed as if she were seeing it for the first time. Vacant, empty, it gave the illusion of some harmless formation of nature, when the truth couldn’t be more different. A symbol of violence it was, representing everything that was wrong with humans who believed themselves to be superior to other races. In truth, they had proven that violence was the answer to every question—even if the question had never been asked.

  Rolling along, the carts took a longer route than she had seen before, rounding their way to the back of the pit. There they stopped, waiting while one soldier inspected the cages, presumably doing a head count. There were only ten in total, and Viola had been given a cage all to herself. As far as she was concerned, the reason was obvious. No one felt safe alone in a cage with her, and her recent act had done nothing to alleviate that fear. Passing by, his glare lingered on her a long while before moving on to the last of three cages. A second soldier pulled a chain from a saddlebag, then laid it out across the sandy ground. It spidered out with smaller chains attached, each ending with a pair of metal cuffs.

  Three additional soldiers worked their way from cage to cage, one unhinging the lock and chain while the other two escorted the prisoners one at a time to the chain on the ground. Once their wrists were secured in the metal cuffs, the armed men went back to fetch another. The process took some time, but it was clear they were trying to make sure no one made a break for. Not that they would have gotten far before being dropped by a crossbow bolt, but why go through the hassle if it could be avoided?

  Watching the soldiers methodically empty the carts to her front and back, she knew she would be the last. This was really the first time she had gotten a look at the other prisoners—two other women, excluding herself, with seven men. They seemed mostly unassuming to her. She could easily picture any of them working a trade or keeping a home. All except one, anyway.

  Second from the front stood an extremely tall man with long sandy-blond hair and shoulders like a blacksmith’s. She might have actually believed him to be one had his arms not been covered with numerous scars, the telltale sign of a swordsman for hire. Even his posture and bland expression proved he was no stranger to this sort of environment. Standing tall, the corner of his lip hinting at a discreet smile, the veteran warrior couldn’t hide his true profession even if his life depended on it.

  “You there, c-come on now,” grunted the soldier standing near Viola’s cage. “And d-d-don’t even think about trying anything.” He stepped aside, allowing another to release the lock. After all his talking earlier, the man didn’t seem so confident anymore now that her cage door was open, and no barrier stood between them. The collar around her neck subdued most of her abilities, but that knowledge did little to ease his fear of her.

  Allowing two others to go into the cage and lead her down, he jumped when she clicked her teeth at him when passing by. Seeing the fear in his eyes gave Viola a modest sense of satisfaction, but the feeling was short-lived. After having her wrists attached to the final cuffs at the back of the line, the man in front of her began to grow restless. Leaning forward as far as he could, he was practically riding the back of the woman in front of him.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Viola whispered, trying in vain to provide some sort of assurance for the scared man.

  “Get off me!” the second woman cried out, annoyed with this man draped all over her. She turned to the guard on her right and held out her cuffed wrists. “Take these off and let me switch places with this coward. I’m not afraid of the girl, and I don’t need this guy riding up my back until we get to wherever we’re going.”

  “She’s a witch!” the man groveled, face practically buried into the fabric of the woman’s clothing. Ignoring him, the woman shook her wrists a second time, a pleading look in her eyes.

  “Move out!” called the soldier, ignoring their senseless dispute as he moved to join the others at the front. It took a bit of teamwork for the line to get moving. A step too slow and you got your ankl
es stepped on. A step too quick and you became the aggressor. Fumbling along awkwardly, the human chain inched their way around the wagons. Two soldiers moved up ahead, each ripping up a leather cord from beneath the sand. After a mighty tug, a hidden trapdoor slid back, sand funneling downward while exposing a set of steps. Flickering torches lit the way, hinting that someone was already down there.

  Chain grinding along the stone, the line was herded down the flight of narrow, spiraling steps. When they reached the bottom crosswalk, there was a large stone room to the right, and a narrower hallway to the left. Exploring neither at this time, the line was led straight ahead through the remaining hall and out into the sandy pit.

  Waiting at the center of the pit stood a bald, shirtless, barrel-chested figure. Although not quite as tall as the warrior in their group, his arms were even larger. With thick tree-trunk legs to match, this beast of a man had a sinister look about him. As he approached, they could see that his bald head was tattooed with two black stripes, each one starting just over an eyebrow before trailing straight back across his head. Thick black rings pierced both his nipples.

  He stopped before them, his angry glare roaming up and down the chained line of prisoners. With one blind eye a cloudy white, the other a glistening black that was dark as night, the menacing figure’s presence seemed to take up the entire arena. When he turned to the side, they could see that most of his right ear was missing. This beast of a man was battle-tested, to be sure. Arms folded across his substantial belly, he had yet to say a word.

  Nearly cracking under that scrutinizing gaze, the sound of a side gate opening offered a bit of relief. Heads turned as a squared formation of soldiers came marching out. Right and left boots came down in perfect unison as they marched, collectively making a significant thumping sound even in the soft sand.