Chapter 40

The Witch

“You dare tempt my wrath? You fools!” I cried out in fury.

I used the stall tactic to make them reconsider their ill efforts and take their attentions away from Max.

He taunted our capturers and was increasing the likelihood that we would be killed. Hawking up phlegm, he spat in the face of the ring leader whose hand crept to the hilt of his dagger. They would sooner be rid of Max than deal with further insult, but because of his odd dress, they knew not if he was worth a large ransom, or merely a servant. The hilt of the dagger came down hard across Max’s temple, rendering him unconscious.

“If you know my identity as a witch, then you must realize I may wield a curse to capture your ragged souls and trap them outside of your living shells until hell freezes over. Then I will send the necromancer to resurrect your thieving carcasses, to spend eternity serving his evil!” My voice tittered on in hopes to distract them from beating Max to a senseless pulp.

“Shut up, witch!” the leader bellowed, with his hand raised above my head. I trained my eye on the scar above his temple and did not flinch. He lingered in contemplation then barked orders to his men. His lackeys trussed us up like pigs for roasting and then unceremoniously tied us to the stolen wagon’s back board. I knew this, because of the Cyclops queen’s crest emblazoned on the side. The horses pulling the cart were too fine for these brigands. I wondered how they managed such a quest without getting their own throats cut. Things must already be in a heightened state, if they overtook Cyclopes’ property without a scratch. I would have made inquiries into the matter, except that a dirty cloth secured with a rope gagged me. Max was out cold by my side, and I was unable to communicate.

I didn’t know where they were taking us, but they skirted the outside forest so the wagon could be carted along. We moved farther away from the Cyclops fortress, and the undead army that surely lie beyond the valley. A shiver of dread ran down my spine and I searched through all I could remember about natural herbs and roots, making note of which I could gather to cast a paralysis spell when they made camp.

Hours passed and my bladder cried out for relief, but my muffled screams were ignored. I tried to nudge Max awake with my bound feet and jabbed an elbow in his ribs. Finally, he moaned and his lashes fluttered. I worried about the time he had been incoherent. He may suffer from a bruised brain, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it now. I needed him awake and alert, so we could attempt to escape. Wasn’t he supposed to be a special agent?

“What? Hmm,” he mumbled.

Curses seeped through my dingy rag and he jerked, suddenly awake. Looking at me, then all around, he assessed the situation. Two men, engaged in conversation, rode guard behind the wagon, and the ring leader was somewhere out front. Max realized our predicament as he struggled against the ropes. Knowing the futility, I shook my head at him. He struggled once more, grimaced at me, and finally settled. A few minutes later, his hand squeezed mine. My eyes widened as I looked at him. My ropes loosened by something that felt like cold steel. Of course, he possessed a knife. I wondered why he didn’t use this earlier, but they outnumbered us five to two. The element of surprise would be better. He held the rope firm in my hand and I understood he wanted me to remain as if I were still tied. He brought his legs up to his torso and looked calmly at the brilliant stars of evening. The guards noticed Max’s consciousness and studied us. I had no tricks up my sleeve. They rendered me of my cloak which contained the clays and vials. I was powerless without a weapon to wield in my own defense, and none of the potions I imbibed at the castle would help me here. The council wouldn’t negotiate with brigands for my release. I had to find my way out of this. Sir Reginaldo would surely let me rot.

The wagon jolted to a stop, and the men made camp in the cloak of night. I stayed in my position of deception and noticed Max’s attempt at an opossum’s game with his feet tied. When they came to drag us from the wagon, I held fast to the ropes that bound my hands, so they wouldn’t detect my freedom. They tethered us to a tree and left us in the darkness to our own devices. Max waited silently until they ate and drank their fill by the fire, and moved off to slumber. I thought I might pass out from the pain of my own needs being ignored so long. The animals drank, feasted, and yet they neglected to offer us the smallest sip of water. I loathed their existence, but when Max finally took action, releasing us, I pulled him farther into the forest, instead of slitting their unworthy throats.

“It will do us no good to take their lives this night,” I whispered in hushed tones as I raced through the brush.

“Those thugs would have gladly slit our throats, and I don’t savor running into them again. I say we do Ortharos a favor and take them out.” The fervor in his voice told me he wouldn’t let it go.

“No,” I asserted. “They possess a queen’s cart and horses, which means we have bigger problems. The necromancer has surely reached the Cyclops fortress by now, and we may be too late to help. We must find a way to Nestere.” I stopped and looked back at the firelight through the trees. Dammit! We needed horses and the queen’s Clydesdales were the best and only mounts to be found in the Carpathian forest.

“Okay, we must return to get the mounts and my cloak. Maybe they haven’t broken every clay ball and vial. Some potions may be salvageable, but please don’t wake the brigands,” I instructed with a glared warning.

Max made no commitment, but fished deep in his pants for something. It reminded me of my discomfort, and I halted his pursuit to step away into the forest to relieve myself. I sighed with pleasure, and I heard Max laugh.

“I guess you will think better of it, before downing all those shots and traipsing through the forest,” he chided me with humor.

When I stepped from the bushes, he was fastening his own britches, and I experienced a moment of envy at his ability to find relief so easily. I brushed passed him and led the way back to camp. Holding my breath, I stepped back into the open.

I frowned when I saw the sleeping, pock-faced man with the sack that held my cloak and potions wrapped in his grimy knuckles.

I entertained the notion of kicking him in the balls and using Max’s knife to cut off his hand, but reminded myself of greater issues.

Max chose that moment to dive and roll behind the cart. The frightened horses rolled their eyes to the back of their heads as they jumped and whinnied. The pock-faced man started and leapt to his feet, and I recanted my earlier plan. With all my might, I kicked him between the legs, watching him fall back to the ground. Grabbing a log beside the fire, I swung it down hard on his head. Using his own dagger, I darted close and slit his throat, then cut the rope, releasing the bag. As I turned, another bandit drew his knife back to skewer me in the chest, but before he could, a loud noise sliced the air, vibrating through me. The bandit collapsed forward, and I rolled, dodging his sharp blade. Three more such noises rang out and I pushed the limp body off me, wiggling free.

The camp was littered with the lifeless bodies and my bewildered expression found Max holding a piece of metal in his hand. Smiling, he tilted it to the sky and blew on the smoking tip.

“Good girl, Pocahontas. She’s a five-shot derringer and you saved us a shot by taking out that last one.” He winked at me then crossed the camp and pulled me up into his arms for a hard, wet kiss. I felt the urgency from the adrenaline rush we both shared, knowing the kiss was more for life-confirmation than titillation.

I looked at him in awe. “What’s a derringer?” I panted. “Are you a wizard on your world?”

“Ummm, not exactly, but a good many have called out, Oh God, in my presence.” He smiled, wiggling his brows, but I knew not his jest. “I’ll explain later. We better grab the cloak, food, water, and horses and hightail it out of here before we attract unwanted company.”

Considering the time we traveled with the bandits, we must be somewhere near their headquarters by now, and I longed not to meet more of their brethren.

“Let’s get the hell outa Dodge,” he suggested, popping me soundly on my rear and chuckling at my surprise. Another time, I would ask about this Dodge place the Earthlings dithered on about.

We rode a few hours, picking our way through the darkness and then camped for the night.