TORQ

Karigan decided the best course of action was to let Megan have it out, to bawl on Fergal’s shoulder, no matter the ugly looks he cast her. Once Megan cried herself dry, they could talk. Karigan was curious to know where and how Megan had been captured, and about the nature of her special ability. Might the latter be useful in an escape attempt? She glanced down at the dirt floor beneath her feet. She’d considered tunneling and had even tried to claw out a test hole, but determined the dirt was but a thin layer over solid rock ledge.

It took some time for Megan to wind down, and she stayed at Fergal’s side resting her head on his shoulder. He more or less took it in stride. She told them how she had been taken right off the street in Woodhaven, the seat of Clan D’Yer. She had just delivered a message to Lord-Governor D’Yer and had paused in town to gaze into the window of a dressmaker’s shop.

“I didn’t even get to go inside before they grabbed me,” she complained. “And oh, I hope someone takes care of Bug.”

“Bug?” Karigan asked.

“My horse. Her name’s Deer Fly, but what kind of name is that for such a pretty girl? So I call her Bug. I left her hitched there in front of the dressmaker’s shop on the main street.”

Before she could lapse into tears again, they reassured her that someone kind had probably taken care of Bug. She told them that her captors’ use of the travel device had made her mildly queasy, but she suffered no further ill effects the way Karigan had.

Karigan then lowered her voice. “Megan, what is your special ability?”

“I haven’t the faintest. I’ve certainly not asked for one.”

Karigan was surprised. At the very least, her ability should have manifested when she was captured. Extreme danger seemed to trigger most Riders’ abilities, but it was not the same for everyone. It could be that Megan’s ability would not have been useful in that particular situation so it did not emerge. She glanced at Fergal.

“I can’t tell,” he said. “My ability shows magic, but doesn’t always tell me what it is.” He looked hard at Megan, then shook his head. “Can’t see magic in her, but I’d say that’s normal for Greenies whose abilities haven’t awakened.”

Talking helped pass the day, and seemed to keep Megan calm. No, she hadn’t seen much of their outer environs when she arrived, and no, she hadn’t been assigned to go to the wall while in D’Yer Province. They did get a rundown of the fashions worn by the ladies in Woodhaven, and an outpouring of distaste for her captors.

“They were foul-mouthed and vulgar, and grabbed at me inappropriately. They did not smell very good either.”

As the light dimmed and they ate their suppers, more of the stew, Megan demanded, “Where do we sleep?”

Fergal swept his hand out to indicate the extent of the hut.

“I hate sleeping on the ground.”

Karigan handed her an extra blanket and she of course inspected it for vermin. Karigan didn’t hold it against her since she’d done the very same thing.

The door to their prison opened allowing much-welcomed fresh air to rush in, and they rose to their feet. A guard bearing a lantern entered, followed by a taller, broad-shouldered figure who remained shadowed until the guard turned around and illuminated the man. Karigan could not suppress a gasp for his face was a grinning skull. She recalled Waldron’s terror at the skull-faced brigand who had attacked him on the Boggs Road. Megan screamed and buried her face into Fergal’s shoulder. At that moment, a strange look came into his eyes.

It took a moment for Karigan to realize the man’s face was actually flesh and blood, that it was tattooed in such a way that the lines and shading were inked to define the jaw and teeth, the contours of the skullcap and eye sockets, that it created the illusion of a skull-faced man. He wore a topknot of steel gray hair, the rest of his scalp shaved. His eyes, lost in the shadow cast by the lantern, glinted, but otherwise really were like the gaping eye sockets of a skull. Dressed in hard leather armor, he was clearly a warrior.

“I am Torq.” His accent indicated he was from the Under Kingdoms. “I am the leader of Deija, or as you know us, the Darrow Raiders.”

The Darrow Raiders! But they’d been vanquished years ago. Yet, Karigan did not doubt his words. She hid her trembling hands behind her back. If these were truly the Darrow Raiders holding them captive, she, Fergal, and Megan were in very bad trouble.

He launched forward and grabbed her arm. She tried to pull away, but his grip was like iron. He twisted her arm just enough to see the Black Shield patch on her sleeve and then let her go. He laughed. “It is true. Dunner said you were a Black Shield Greenie and I did not believe him. I now owe him five silvers. But if you are a real Black Shield, you would have fought your way out by now, eh? Or maybe there is a reason you have not, for I find you pathetic, more likely to hurt yourself than anything.”

Torq’s words were all the more cutting for being true.

“You have nothing to say?” he demanded.

Karigan did not speak, just stared straight ahead.

“I see.” He gave the others a quick glance before settling his gaze on Karigan once more. “Which of you is the ranking Greenie?”

“She is,” Megan said hastily, pointing at Karigan.

“Is this true?”

Karigan nodded. There was no use in denying it.

“You,” he said pointing at her, “are responsible for the behavior of the others. Understand? You will keep them quiet—no banging or shouting will be tolerated. Should our friends of Second Empire learn of your presence here, it would hasten your demise. Do not doubt it. General Birch hates Greenies almost as much as me since one killed Second Empire’s leader.”

Karigan kept her peace not wishing to implicate herself. She had not killed Grandmother. An ice elemental had. But she’d been there, and that was, at the very least, guilt by association. In her peripheral vision, Fergal swayed on his feet. She shifted her gaze just enough to see he was holding onto Megan hard and that his complexion had taken on a green tinge. Megan herself was wide-eyed.

When Torq’s gaze started to stray in their direction, Karigan said, “Your guards told us we were witch bait. What does that mean, and why are you keeping us from Second Empire?”

“Ah, you do speak.” The grotesqueness of his tattooed face increased with his smile. “Birch would kill you outright, whereas I intend to make use of you. We work with Birch while it’s to our advantage in our quest to reclaim what is ours.”

“And what would that be?”

“A land for ourselves to live as we wish. No king or queen will rule. No emperor, either.”

That was interesting since Second Empire was all about the empire, which strongly suggested an emperor. Would the Raiders turn on Second Empire if an alliance no longer suited them?

“And what about witch bait?” Karigan asked.

“You don’t know? Don’t they teach you Greenies about your own history?” He shook his head. “It is all about vengeance.” He turned on his heel and swept out of the hut. When the door was firmly shut behind him, Fergal fell away retching into the corner and Megan . . . floated?

“Ah . . . ah . . . ah . . .” the Rider said as she bobbed up to the rafters. She grabbed one and held on to it with all she had. “Cobweeeebs,” she wailed. “Someone get me down. I do not like this.”

Torq’s appearance must have set off Megan’s special ability. But floating? She could only gaze at the Rider in wonderment before springing to action.

“Megan, breathe deep.”

“You breathe deep.”

“Listen to me.” Karigan’s patience with her was being sorely tried. “Breathe deeply, exhale slowly.” The only way to even begin to bring her down was to calm her.

“I tried to hold her down while Skull Face was here,” Fergal said. He slid to the ground looking exhausted. “But I couldn’t hold back the sick for long when her magic came.”

Fergal’s was one ability Karigan was glad she didn’t have, especially when its use caused him to get sick. It took her a while, but she finally got Megan to calm herself, and now she had to coax her back to the ground.

“Close your eyes and imagine you are slowly descending.” Karigan had no idea if this would work, but it was worth a try.

“I’m afraid to let go.”

“I thought you didn’t like cobwebs. They are probably full of spiders.”

Megan screeched and let go of the rafter, and fell.

“Well, that worked,” Fergal said.

Karigan knelt beside the clump of green on the floor that was Megan. “You all right? Anything broken?”

Megan looked up at her with an odd glint in her eyes. Cobwebs trailed from her curls. “I. Did. NOT. Want. This.”

The door opened again and a guard stormed in. “Torq told you to be quiet. Who screamed?” He gazed down at Megan.

Something of the old Karigan stirred and she stood. “I did. It was me.”

He cuffed her and she stumbled back.

“If I hear anymore from you lot, I’ll do worse. Got it? If I had it my way, we’d skin you alive like the old days.”

“Got it,” Karigan mumbled. She touched her hand to her stinging cheek.

When he left, she shook her head and extended her hand to help Megan up, then helped dust her off. This time Megan did not recoil. “Thank you,” she said in a small voice, then she grabbed her blanket and curled up against the wall, her back to them.

Karigan stood there, her cheek throbbing. If this was what it meant to be Chief Rider, she’d happily give the position back to Mara. If ever she got the chance, that was. Just because Torq didn’t want them to be killed by Birch didn’t mean they wouldn’t be killed in the end, and what she had heard about the Raiders of old was that they were not merciful. From Torq’s terse explanation, it would appear they held a grudge against the Green Riders for their earlier demise. Vengeance, she knew, could be messy.