Barbarian Tales

Episode 2

The Slavers of Thar

by L'Espion

 

Mirrored in the gleaming surface of pure obsidian a redheaded young woman heaved her sweating body in the dynamic rhythms of sex.  She was an impressive figure, well over nine spans or six-and-a-half feet tall in the common tongue.  Her body was sculpted like that of a goddess and her large, firm breasts quivered in as she rode the gasping young man beneath her,  each movement swirling her waist-length hair about her. 

 

One of two figures watching her, a gloriously beautiful woman, clad in little more than gossamer filaments that floated around her body turned to the tall shadowy figure beside her.  “She is undeniably beautiful, and possesses remarkable stamina, but is she the best we can do?” she asked.  “I was hoping for someone who could do a bit more than make love for half the night.”

 

“I assure you this is the one.  She is a most impressive warrior as you have already observed.” the dark figure answered.  “And although she has faced considerable adversity during her short life she has survived every encounter.” 

 

“Yes, she is most skilled, and not a little lucky,” the woman agreed.  “But her last adventure almost got her killed.  At her current pace she may not live long enough to serve her purpose.  Are you sure she is indeed the Chosen?”

 

“Nothing is ever certain,” the dark figure replied.  “But I believe she is the one in the prophecy.  Think of the ordeals she has suffered as preparation for what is to come.  If she is indeed the one she will need to be strong indeed, and so far everything she has suffered has helped to make her stronger.” 

 

“Then let us hope she gains wisdom to match her strength and beauty,” the woman replied.  “We do not have the luxury of waiting for another.”  The image faded as the mysterious figures turned away. 

 

Chapter 1: The Prince of Nahn

Shailaja cried out as her loins contracted and then pitched forward in exhaustion.  Below her the farm boy she had dragged to her room was not quite finished.  Shifting his powerful body he rolled her beneath him and then proceeded to plough her furrow for several hundred more heartbeats before he too collapsed, panting in utter fatigue.  Rolling to one side of the narrow bed he reached out and cupped her left breast, squeezing it gently and tweaking the erect rosette of her nipple.  “Was that good for you, my lady?” he asked. 

 

“More than good,” Shailaja gasped.  “You will make someone a very fine husband.”  During her twenty two springs she had experienced a number of lovers and had been taken by many men both willingly and unwillingly, and Doran measured up well to many of them.

 

She had picked up the farm boy just outside of the walled city of Penlough and had promised him a pint of ale in return for directions to the city’s best inn.  Doran had been more than happy to comply once he had delivered his load of hay to the local hay merchant. 

 

The Golden Rooster was the name of the inn and as promised Shailaja had bought Doran his pint of ale.  Things were a bit hazy after that, but she remembered matching the powerfully built farm boy pint for pint before she had dragged him off to her room.  In truth Doran had needed little persuading.  In spite of her formidable warrior abilities and the fact that she towered over most men, she was also magnificently beautiful with stunning emerald eyes, hair like flame, and an exquisite physique.  No doubt Doran thought that the gods had chosen to smile upon him.

 

She closed her eyes, her thoughts going back to the events preceding her meeting with Doran.  It had begun when she had sought to return to one of the few men she had come to trust. 

 

Reaching the small woodland house she had stared at it in dismay and disbelief.  It should have been the place, but it was not as she had remembered it.  The log house was in a sad state of disrepair, the shutters on its windows broken and barely hanging on, and the thatched roof rotting.  The front porch was littered with dead leaves and the door hung open.  The entire structure reminded her of the staring face of a dead man. 

 

Swinging down she had stepped uncertainly toward it and carefully climbed the rotting steps to the porch.  This can’t be the place, she had thought.  But she knew that it was.  Just a few weeks ago she had been there sharing the cabin with the giant woodsman who called himself Sturm.

 

The man had saved her life, nursed her back to health, improved her skill with her weapons, and made love to her, all within the span of a few weeks.  He had also helped her recover from the loss of her first lover, the leader of a mercenary band with whom she had spent three years.  She had only left him to avenge the death of her lover, and completing her mission, she had returned with the intention of joining him in his woodland existence. 

 

Sturm called himself the Warden of the Forest, and in his sylvan domain his word was law, in spite of the fact that no authority recognized his claim.  However, anyone who entered the woodlands fell under his rule whether they liked it or not.  Those who chose to defy him seldom lived long enough to tell anyone about it. 

 

Shailaja had become a complete part of Sturm’s life, accompanying him on his patrols, hunting with him, and practicing her martial skills with him.  But more importantly he and she had become lovers and she had never known greater happiness in her twenty two springs.  For the week it had taken her to reach his cabin she had been looking forward to being in his arms again. 

 

But now it was as if Sturm had never existed.  She remembered his final words as she had left him, “…you will know where to find me.”  And so she had returned to where her memory had told he should have been, but now it appeared as if he had never existed.

 

She had turned and looked in all directions, but saw only the forest.  It was much closer to the cabin than she remembered, its vegetation moving rapidly to reclaim the small clearing.  Could I have imagined everything about this place? she had wondered.  But no.  There was the place where she and Sturm had practiced their sword drill.  A few yards beyond that was the creek where they had gone daily to get water; and lying on the ground was what was left of the bucket they had used to carry it.  This was definitely the place of her memories, but Sturm and everything associated with him seemed long gone. 

 

She had stepped away from the cabin heading for another place she knew well.  She followed a badly overgrown trail, pushing aside branches as she moved toward the sound of falling water.  Pushing through a final leafy barrier she found herself at the edge of a picturesque pool.  A small waterfall tumbled into it on the far side and just a short distance away was the large sunlit boulder where she and Strurm had first made love. 

 

“I do remember it,” she had said angrily.  “Are the gods playing tricks on me?”  It was an almost blasphemous thought, but it had seemed the only explanation.  It was either that or accepting that she had imagined the whole thing.  But she had never heard of the gods interfering in the life of anyone in that way.  In fact, although she prayed to her gods, and to Marana in particular she had never seen any real proof that they really existed. 

 

Frustrated and overcome with a deep sadness she had seated herself on the rock and stared at the falling water.  It seemed that everything had been taken away from her.  Forced to flee her northern homeland she had taken up with the leader of a mercenary band.  With his death she had found accidental refuge with Sturm, and now it seemed that he was gone as well.    

 

Getting to her feet her face had assumed a look of grim determination.  She would say nothing more about the gods.  If Marana decreed that she and Sturm were not to be together then so be it.  She was a Kaltaran warrior and she would live her life as the gods willed it.  Wiping away a tear, she had gone quickly back the way she had come.  Her horse was where she had left him, grazing on the thick grass near the cabin.  Mounting him she turned his head away and kicked him into motion.  She would not stay where there were so many memories.  Stony-faced she had guided the horse through the woodland and back to the road she had travelled.

 

She had camped that night in a small grove of trees.  It was not the way she had thought to spend the night and suddenly she was overcome with a sensation of melancholy so intense she could no longer contain her grief.  She had wept uncontrollably, letting the tears come until she had cried herself out.  Her emotional outburst spent, she had wrapped herself in her blankets and slept.

 

Morning found her in not much better spirits, but she no longer felt the deep despondency she had felt the night before.  Instead her dejection was replaced by another feeling, one that tears could do nothing to assuage.  She ate a quick breakfast, and mounting up once again headed off down the road determined to do something about it. 

 

A three day ride had found her approaching one of the many fortified towns that dotted the vast Arkana Plain.  This region of central Vedra was well noted for its lawless nature and no town was without walls to protect it.  In the case of the town she was approaching, the town’s inhabitants had taken advantage of the local geography by building it on a bend in a river.  Shailaja had not ridden through this region of Arkana before and knew neither the name of the town nor that of the river.  However, that might be all to the good as it meant that few in the town would know of her either. 

 

During her time as a member of the mercenary band known as the Ravens Shailaja had been a part of many acts she now realized had been less than honourable.  That was behind her now and she planned never again to engage in so ignoble a profession.  However, in spite of her change in attitude she could not expect anyone she had wronged to forgive her for what she had done and she was on her guard as she approached the city gate.

 

It was there that she had found Doran.  He was driving a wagon loaded with hay and she had been taken by him immediately.  He was young, probably a year or so younger than her twenty-two springs and built like a bull, with massive shoulders and a deep chest.  With his dark brown hair and heavily tanned features he was typical of most people of the region, but he was much taller than average, matching her in height.  He was dressed simply in a sleeveless woollen jerkin that left his muscular arms bare for her to admire, and woollen trousers that ended just above his ankles.  The trousers were tied at the waist with a length of rope and not too surprisingly he was barefoot. 

 

Shailaja could not resist him.  She had apparently encountered a real peasant, but one who appeared well mannered and respectful.  He asked no questions about her, but was free with information about himself and she soon learned that that his father usually accompanied him on trips to town, but had stayed behind on this occasion to remain with a cow that was about to calve.  “I will stay in at the haymarket,” Doran explained.  The hay merchant allows me to use his loft.  Then I will return home tomorrow.”

 

Shailaja nodded her understanding, but even as she did so she had made up her mind that Doran was not going to sleep in the hayloft.  The pain of losing Den and then Sturm was strong within her.  Perhaps a night with Doran could help assuage that pain. 

 

Now as she lay in his arms after spending half the night making love she realized that simple sexual release could only temporarily dull the agony of losing two men she had almost worshipped.  With that sad thought in her mind sleep found her.  

 

Morning found her rested and a bit sorer than she had expected.  Doran had been an impressive lover and his youthful enthusiasm had left his mark on her.  However, pleasant as the experience had been she knew she could not stay with him.  She treated them both to breakfast, paid off the innkeeper and then mounting her horse left Penlough with Doran looking wistfully after her.  She had given him an experience he would never forget, but he was no warrior and she knew that only time could truly dull her pain.

 

Riding through the main gate of Penlough she took the road south and east, leaving Arkana behind her, and traveling into central Vedra and then riding even farther south than that.  She had no special destination in mind, and simply let the road take her where it would.  She was governed by nothing more than her restless spirit and a desire to forget about anything that reminded her of Den and and Sturm and her experience as a helpless captive.  More than anything that had happened to her the shame of being at the complete mercy of others preyed most strongly upon her and she simply wanted to be away from the memory of that ordeal.

 

She had enough coin to live by, especially as she hunted whenever she could.  This was not always possible in the more settled lands, but she rode through many areas that were so wild they rivalled her native land.  In these areas she lingered, enjoying the tranquility and freedom of the wilderness.  However, her restless nature would not let her stay as long in these places as she should have.  Something pushed her back to the world of men, and life in the cities required that she find something useful to do.

 

Shailaja found that in spite of the prejudices that seemed aimed at women almost everywhere she went, a demonstration of her skills usually got her employment as a caravan guard.  Such jobs paid poorly at first, but as she gained a reputation among the merchants she found her services more and more in demand.  Escorting caravans took her to most of the cities of central Vedra and she encountered more people and cultures than she had imagined existed.  It was a powerful educational experience and it opened her eyes to the fact that there was more than one way of looking at things.

 

During this time she avoided personal entanglements.  That was not to say that she did not meet up with any men that she found interesting.  Far from it.  Her work and travels brought her into contact with many men she judged worthy of her attention.  However, her experience with Doran, pleasant as it had been had shown that taking up with the first pair of broad shoulders that came her way was a rather unsatisfactory experience and although she was frequently tempted she did not give in, preferring a temporary life of celibacy.

  

Her travels gradually pulled her south, through most of central Vedra and eventually to the city of Chen in the Kingdom of Turock.  There she found herself attached to a caravan destined for the city of Dort.

 

Shailaja knew it would be an interesting job as the caravan route led through territory known to be infested by bandits, and she took it more out of a sense of adventure than anything else.  She had accumulated enough coin to last her for some time, but the caravan route would take her through the high mountains of eastern Turock, a place she had never been.  The pay was good as well; the caravan master was paying double the usual rate and a bonus at the finish.  She was a bit curious about this, but had learned to keep her mouth shut.  Iznad, the caravan master, a cheerful and heavyset individual in his fifties, informed her that he was carrying bolts of the finest cloth, and a quick survey of the wagons showed her the truth of this.  She did not inquire as to what might be in the false bottoms that many wagons were known to contain although she certainly had her suspicions when she discovered that Iznad had hired fifty assorted rabble to act as escort.  It seemed a bit much for two score wagons carrying supposedly innocent cargo.

 

  The job seemed simple enough; escort the caravan from Chen to the city of Dort at the headwaters of the Suleen River.  But it turned out to be a hire Shailaja would not soon forget.

 

The route chosen followed the high road south, paralleling the central mountain chain known as the Dragon’s Tail.  The road was good most of the way, and was patrolled for much of its length.  However, halfway to the destination city of Dort, the road climbed into the mountains in order to bypass a southern branch of the mountain chain.  There was another way around, but it increased the distance to be travelled by half.  Only the most cautious of merchants would use it such a route and bear the cost of an extra twenty days on the road.

 

Dort’s location at the headwaters of one of the great rivers of Vedra had made it an important destination as from there boats and barges could carry the products of central Vedra to the east coast.  It was finishing the last section of the road through the mountains, however, that made the journey dangerous.  The land was wild and full of places perfect for an ambush.  Few travellers dared the road without a heavy escort.

 

The journey started out well enough.  The caravan proceeded with good weather, the roads were reasonable, and there was not the least sign of trouble.  Due to her reputation Shailaja was in charge of the caravan guard; a motley group of refugees recruited from the lowest levels of society and not a one of them willing to take orders from a woman.  However, she sorted out that detail out the first day by hammering the self-appointed leader of the rebellious thugs, a brute called Deltin, into the ground.  After that she was able to organize them into something approaching an armed guard rather than the gutter scum they really were.  Interestingly enough her strongest ally in this turnabout was Deltin. No doubt it had something to do with his slighted manhood that he now became her strongest ally.  However, Shailaja had no illusions about the quality of the men she commanded.  They would stand up to run-of-the-mill bandits, but if they faced a serious opponent they would save their own skins first.

 

From time to time the caravan encountered patrols sent out by the Kingdom of Turock and several times it passed by fortified camps that protected the road.  As a result there was not the slightest sign of bandits and they proceeded in perfect safety.  There was, of course, a cost for this protection.   Each outpost charged a toll; paid grudgingly, by Iznad, the caravan master.  Each time he paid he grumbled about the outrageous cost, but he paid it nevertheless.  And in spite of his protests Shailaja noticed that he never once spoke of taking the longer route around the mountains.

 

The leisurely and carefree journey came to an end when the caravan reached the limit of Turock territory.  Here the road began to climb the steep pass which would take it into the mountains and on to the free city of Dort.  From then on they were on our own and Shailaja took precautions accordingly.

 

She commanded fifty men, and set them strategically along the column.  She took the front of the column along with four others and scouted ahead, wary for any sign of ambush.  They were all mounted and were able to range ahead about a third of a league.  They were far enough ahead to give fair warning of an attack, but not so far ahead that they would be cut off from support in case of an attack by superior numbers.

 

The countryside through which they rode could only be described as spectacular.  The road ran southeast with the awe-inspiring snow-covered peaks of the Dragon’s Tail on the left.  It was a sight that reminded Shailaja very much of home and She could not help but wonder what had transpired during the time of her five year absence. 

 

To the right a secondary range of mountains pinched in toward the road.  Between these two ranges the road rose, switching back and forth as it climbed higher.  The entire region was heavily forested with thick stands of pine, spruce, and fir interspersed with willow and other shrubs.  It offered hundreds of places where bandits might lie in ambush and Shailaja spent a good deal of time moving slowly up and down the column. 

 

The forty wagons and their outriders were strung out for more than half a league along the road.  However, a bandit attack would most likely be directed against the front or rear of the column so it was at those points that Shailaja had posted the heaviest guard.  Even so, fifty riders to patrol such a lengthy column was impossible, and she was counting on the fact that only a very large band of attackers would dare attack so large a convoy.

 

As it turned out she need not have been quite so careful.  She knew from speaking with Iznad that the stop for the day was just a league ahead and she decided to ride on to check it out.  It was the last good campground before the final climb to the pass and although it was just after noon, the plan was to camp there today and gain the summit tomorrow.  The site in question was a large open area that would provide plenty of room for the wagons.  Splashing across it was a fast running stream that would provide an excellent source of water.  However, it was what was strung out across the open area that surprised her.  About two score mounted warriors clad in dark armour waited silently.  It was hardly the ambush she had expected, but she wasted no time attempting to determine their intentions.  Instead she wheeled her horse and rode back to the caravan.  Once there she ordered the wagons into a defensive formation.  On the narrow road the best she could do was to organize them into a long rectangular formation, with five wagons across at either end and fifteen wagons long.  Inside were placed the huge yegger draft animals while the drovers and other personnel piled into the boxes of the wagons with whatever weapons they possessed.  Most of the wagoners were armed with crossbows and swords.  How well they knew how to use them was another matter. 

Shailaja kept her contingent mounted with the idea of having them defend where the attack was strongest.  Their mobility would allow them to move to any threatened area quickly.  With the defence organized to the best of her ability she waited to see what the riders planned.

 

It turned out to be a much longer wait than expected.  Apparently the mysterious warriors were content to wait right where they were.  As a result, after consulting with Iznad it was decided to set up camp while staying alert for any attack.  However, while camp was being established Shailaja slipped into the trees on the side of the road and made her way to where she could spy on the mysterious warriors. 

 

Fully at home in the rugged landscape, she nevertheless took special care not to be seen, working her way around the high side of the pass where she could look down on the encampment of the potential enemy.

 

It was well that she was cautious as she almost walked into a sentry posted at the very high point she had targeted.  Fortunately, he changed position slightly just before she came upon him and the slight movement alerted her to his presence.  With no wish to kill any of the mysterious warriors until she knew more about them, Shailaja backtracked and worked her way higher.  Flat on her belly she crawled out on a rocky ledge and observed the camp.

 

From her vantage point she was able to observe that the warriors had settled in, stringing their camp across the road and blocking it from either direction.  There were no more than forty of them, but she knew at a glance that the men she travelled with would not be a match for them.  Their armour and weapons, as well as the professional manner in which they set up camp marked them as men who knew what they were doing.  As she had previously observed they all wore dark armour that was similar in design.  Each man was armed with sword and bow, a factor that made them even deadlier in combat, and their horses were of the highest quality. 

 

The leader of the bandits was an impressive warrior.  Dressed in black armour trimmed with silver and gold, and mounted on a horse the colour of the sun he towered over the rest of his companions.  Somewhat ominously he reminded Shailaja very much of Velag, the brutal Belusendran warlord who had enslaved her, except that he was probably a full head taller than she was which would make him a formidable opponent if his skills matched his height.  From where she lay she might have managed to pick him off with her bow, but decided that such an act was hardly honourable, especially as she was not yet certain of his motives.  So far he had taken no hostile action against the caravan and it seemed reasonable that she should try to find out what he and his men wanted before taking action against them.  As a result she slipped away from her observation point and returned to the wagons.

 

Over a mug of tea she conferred with Iznad, discussing what was to be done.  “It is quite obvious that the camp is set up in such a way as to bar all travel,” she observed.  “The question is why it has been done.  The warriors have made no hostile moves regarding us.  They have not even bothered to approach us to offer terms.”

 

“They don’t have to,” Iznad pointed out.  “They control the road.  All they have to do is wait for us.”

 

“That is so,” Shailaja admitted, nodding her agreement.  “It seems that there is only one way to find out.”  She set down her mug and walked to her horse, which she had left saddled in the expectation she would soon be riding. 

 

“Find me something that might be used as a flag of truce,” Shailaja ordered one of the wagoners.  “I will find out what these warriors want.”

 

A spear around which a piece of white cloth had been wound was handed up to her.  “Wait here,” she said.  The command was quite unnecessary; she doubted that any of the men under her command would have been foolish enough to challenge the two score men that waited just a few bowshots away.

 

Guiding her horse between the wagons she rode slowly toward the camp of the waiting warriors.  It was a lonely ride as she moved toward the camp.  At any time an arrow from any of the sentries she had spotted could be launched toward her, but she did not hesitate, trusting that Marana would protect her from so cowardly an attack. 

 

She stopped just out of arrow range to let them get a good look at her and then moved forward.  Shailaja had no illusions about her appearance and knew that on that day she made an impressive sight.  She had not bothered to bind her hair and it streamed out behind her like a crimson battle flag as she rode forward.  The camp stirred as she approached and as she had expected the tall leader rode past the camp sentries and approached her.

 

He was accompanied by two other warriors, but it was he who drew her eye.  Close up he was even more imposing than she had supposed.  The armour protecting his arms, shoulders, chest, and legs was composed of overlapping bands of metal, offering great protection and good flexibility.  His helmet was designed so that it resemble the head of huge wolf, the fangs acting as bars protecting his face.  He pushed the helmet back, revealing the face of a man no older than she was.  His hair was jet black and his complexion dark, and he wore his beard short and well groomed. 

 

Physically, he was massive with shoulders double the width of Shailaja’s and he dwarfed the two riders who accompanied him.  To her surprise he stopped several horse lengths from her and one of the men accompanying him rode forth. 

 

“State your name and rank,” the rider ordered.

 

Shailaja did not like his manner, but she had come to discover what the band of warriors intended and so she answered.   

 

“I am Shailaja of the Kaltara and I greet you in the name of the merchant Iznad,” she proclaimed.  “We journey to the high pass and beyond to Dort and wish free passage.”

 

“You are now in the domain of Kaylan, Prince of Nahn,” the rider stated.  “All who wish to pass must pay a toll of one silver ounce per wagon and another silver for each man and animal.”

 

Shailaja did a quick mental calculation and knew that Iznad would be far from pleased.  The band of thieves under the command of the Prince of Nahn was demanding an amount equal to five hundred silver ounces.  She expected it was an amount he would be most reluctant to pay.

 

“By what right do you levy such a toll?” she asked.  “Nahn has no claim to the Dragon’s Tail.”

 

At that point the prince himself spurred his horse forward.  “Indeed there you are wrong,” he replied.  “I and my warriors now patrol the pass, keeping it free of bandits.  That gives me every right to levy what tolls I deem appropriate.”

 

“I will relay your message to the caravan master,” Shailaja replied.  “But I doubt he will agree to so large a sum.  I expect he will simply take the caravan around the mountains.” 

 

The last statement was a bluff.  The cost of taking the alternate route around the Dragon’s Tail would be far higher than Iznad was willing to pay, and it would delay the arrival of his goods at Dort by more than a month.  It would be cheaper by far just to pay Kaylan what he asked.  But she felt it her duty to help Iznad in any way she could. 

 

Kaylan was silent for a few moments following her reply; then he spoke.  “I will speak with your master.  Perhaps he and I can come to an agreement face to face.  Send him to me.  Perhaps we can negotiate a fee he will find more amenable.”

 

Shailaja gave him a hard look, suspecting something more behind his words.

 

“There is no danger to your master,” Kaylan said.  “You have my word as a warrior.”

 

Shailaja nodded her understanding.  She had encountered a few warriors of Nahn before and had been impressed with the fact that they seemed to have a code of honour similar to that of Kaltarans and they also treated their women with a measure of respect that had her approval.  What they were doing claiming ownership of the high pass she had no idea.  The action was almost certain to provoke a reaction from the Kingdom of Turock and likely Drogoth as well as the pass lay directly between the two kingdoms.  If Kaylan thought to hold it with so small a force, he might find himself hard pressed. 

 

Most likely the prince represented only a raiding party intent on milking the merchants using the pass.  He was strong enough to threaten any caravan and extort whatever fees he could from them until he was driven off; and that might not be for several months.  Shailaja was able to see, however, that on the side of the road to the north there was the beginning of what might be a fort.  She had not been able to see it during her reconnaissance as it was still rudimentary with just a small log cabin.  It looked very much to her that Kaylan might be intending more than just a temporary presence in the pass. 

 

However, it was not for her to deal with Kaylan and his warriors unless they attacked the caravan; and in spite of the warlike appearance the Nahn warriors seemed more interested in resolving the matter peacefully than in fighting.  “I will tell my master of your request and ask that he meet you halfway.  He will come with but a single escort and will expect you to do the same.”

 

“It seems a fair arrangement,” Kaylan replied.  “I await your return.”

 

Shailaja turned her horse and headed back to where Iznad waited and delivered the message as instructed.  As she had surmised Iznad was hardly overjoyed.  “This is little more than robbery,” he fumed.  “What gives him the right to exact such a toll?”

 

“The same right that Turock has,” Shailaja replied.  “Force of arms.  Perhaps it is best if you meet with him and attempt to negotiate a better deal.”

 

“And place myself in the hands of a bandit?” Iznad growled.  “I hired you to protect me.  I thought you more intelligent than that.”

 

Shailaja bristled at his words.  Had he not been almost three times her age she might have taken exception to them, but she managed to control her temper.  “Kaylan is a prince of Nahn, a nation noted for the honour of its warriors.  If he intended harm he would not have bothered to parlay, but would have attacked instead.”

 

“Perhaps it is a ruse to draw me out and deprive the caravan of its leadership,” Iznad countered.

 

“Perhaps,” Shailaja replied.  She kept to herself the fact that she didn’t think Iznad much of a leader, but she could not help allowing a hint of contempt into her next words.  “In that case I suggest we turn back and take the longer route.”

 

“Do you fear to face these Nahnian bandits?” Iznad sneered.

 

“I do not fear them,” Shailaja replied calmly.  “But you hired me to protect the caravan and I am not about to lead the rabble you hired as guards against trained warriors who would gut all of them in a few hundred heartbeats.  If we stay behind the wagons in the defensive position I have established we have a chance, but we would be slaughtered in an open battle.”

 

Iznad seemed to reconsider.  “All right.  I will meet him halfway.  You and the others will escort me.”

 

“I have the word of the Nahnian prince that you will not be harmed, and that he will meet you with but a single escort,” I replied.  “I doubt taking a large escort with you will make you any safer, but it may well provoke an attack.  However, I will return with you.”

 

Iznad sighed.  “I do not like bargaining with bandits, however, it seems I have little choice.” 

 

A horse was found for their valiant leader and together Iznad and Shailaja headed to the Nahn encampment.  Kaylan was where he had said he would be, accompanied by a single rider.    

 

Iznad nodded his head in greeting.  He could hardly have been pleased to greet the man who was attempting to extort such a huge sum of money from him, but he was a merchant trader and pretending to be amiable was part of his profession.  “I am Iznad, merchant trader of Chen,” he said, by way of introduction.  “I have learned that the high pass is now controlled by your warriors.”

 

“That is so,” Kaylan replied.  “I have extended my protection over southern Nahn and now exact payment for all who profit from it.”

 

“Southern Nahn?” Iznad muttered.  It was clear that he was not pleased by Kaylan’s claim to a territory that had belonged to no one.

 

“You fee is rather high.  You will ruin the honest traders that use the high pass if they are forced to pay such a rate.”

 

“I have calculated carefully,” Kaylan replied.  “The money you will save on the hiring of escorts will more than pay for what I ask.”

 

“That may be so in the future,” Iznad protested, “but it does me little good now.”

 

Kaylan’s eyes flicked in Shailaja’s direction.  “Perhaps we can negotiate something more to your liking,” he said.  “Let us leave our escorts and ride together to where we can discuss this privately.”

 

Iznad was clearly uneasy at this suggestion, but nodded toward Shailaja.  “Remain here.  I will ride with the prince.”

 

Shailaja felt a strong sense of apprehension as she watched Iznad and the prince ride off.  They did not go far, but there was something about the way Kaylan had looked at her that gave her the distinct feeling that something was not right.  However, she relaxed a little when they halted just out of earshot and spoke quietly to one another.  She did wonder, however, what there was about negotiating a toll that required such privacy.

 

The conversation between Iznad and Kaylan lasted only a quarter turn of the glass, and then the merchant turned his horse and rode back to her.  “It is settled,” he said.  “I will pay what he wants.  Return with me and I will send you back with the toll.”

 

Something about his manner seemed out of place.  The merchant almost seemed pleased about the outcome and Shailaja wanted to ask what he and Kaylan had discussed.  However, she held her tongue in the knowledge that it was not her place to question her employer in such a matter.

 

“Send Deltin to me,” Iznad ordered one of the guards.  He then turned to her.  “See that the wagons are ordered out.  We move to where the Nahnians camp.”

 

It was a strange order to give her, as it was not part of Shailaja’s duties to see to the ordering of the wagons, but since it was she who had placed them in their defensive formation she did not question him, but instead rode off to see that it was done. 

 

It took her some time to get the waggoners to get the yeggers hitched up and moving in the correct direction, but it was eventually done and she had the wagons moving up the pass toward the place where Kaylan and his warriors waited.  She then returned to Iznad to see what further orders he might have.

 

Iznad was standing by the side of the trail along with Deltin and several of the other men he had hired as guards.  He gestured her to join him and dismounting, she gave the reins of her horse to one of the young boys who were learning the trade of waggoners, and strode toward him. 

 

The men parted as Shailaja approached and foolishly she thought nothing of it until it was too late.  It was neatly done.  Before she was even aware of what was happening they closed around her, snaring her with ropes before she realized their intent. 

 

She reacted immediately, but was a heartbeat too slow.  Ropes encircled her, pinning her arms to her sides and still other ropes tightened about her legs, preventing her from escaping the trap that had been laid for her.  She fought instinctively, but could do no more than struggle helplessly as she was disarmed and forced to her knees. 

 

Still straining to escape she looked up at Iznad.  “What treachery is this?” she demanded.  But she already knew the answer.  Almost certainly she had been the subject of the private conversation.

 

“No treachery,” Iznad grinned.  “Just a business transaction.  The Nahnian prince has waived the toll and taken you in payment instead.  It was too much of a bargain to pass up.”

 

Deltin stepped forward and grinned down at her.  “I have hoped for this since the first day we met.  I am now in charge of the caravan guard as I should have been in the first place, and you are at my feet.  I hope that the Nahnian uses you as heavily as I would have.  I would take you now except for the fact that you are to be presented as our safe passage through the pass.”

 

Shailaja pain him no attention, directing her venom at Iznad.  “Have you no honour?  Is this the way you treat one who serves you?”

 

“Indeed I do have honour,” Iznad grinned.  “But not in the matter of profit.  Turning you over to the Nahnians not only saves me a hefty toll, but I also am relieved of the burden of paying your wages.”  He motioned to Deltin.  “Enough talk.  The prince awaits.  Take her there now and we will follow.”

 

Shailaja was pulled to her feet, but she was now securely bound, her arms forced behind her back and her wrists tightly lashed.  Her legs were free so that she could walk, but she was controlled by a man on either side of her who held a rope that was secured to her arms.  In this humiliating fashion she was marched toward the Nahnian encampment as the caravan followed.

 

Deltin made full use of the opportunity to taunt her as she made the painful trek toward the Nahnian camp.  It was truly shameful for a warrior of Kaltara to be brought to such a low state, yet it seemed to happen again and again.

 

Kaylan met them halfway.  On foot Shailaja was forced to look up at him and she glared her anger, hardly able to believe that a prince of Nahn would so dishonour himself, and said so.  “Are you little more than a merchant?” she hissed.  “I expected better of someone who thinks himself a warrior.”

 

“What would you know of honour?” Kaylan replied.  “You disgraced your family and your clan.”

 

His words filled her both with rage and apprehension.  “What do you know of me?” she demanded.

 

“There cannot be two such as you,” Kaylan answered.  “Once described you are easily identified.  The Emperor of Prithia will be pleased to have you in his hands.”

 

Shailaja felt a stone descend into her stomach.  For almost five years she had fled her past, and now when she thought it forgotten it seemed to have caught up with her.  “You know nothing of what you speak,” she raged, straining at her restraints. 

“The Prithian emperor is dead.”

 

“Your own words betray you,” Kaylan replied scornfully.  “You admit you murdered Cleron.”

 

“I admit to nothing,” Shailaja replied.  He was a lecherous lout who sought to take what was not rightly his.”

 

“Enough,” Kaylan said with a wave of his hand.  “I will speak no more with a woman who violated her word and betrayed the trust of her people.  You are my prisoner now and will be treated as such.”  He turned his horse away and at the same time motioned to several warriors   

 

It was something of a relief to be free of Deltin and his sneers as well as the men who he now led.  But Shailaja knew that she was not much better off in the hands of people she had supposed honourable but who turned out to be as filled with perfidy as any men she had ever known.

     

She was led toward the centre of the camp.  As she had seen there was a partly finished log building.  What there was of it was well made, attesting to Kaylan’s boast that he intended to lay claim to this part of the Dragon’s Tail.  Next to it was another structure of log construction where arrangements had already been made for her imprisonment.  A wooden cell had been constructed, consisting of heavy timbers laid one on top of the other and interlocking at the corners.  The logs did not fit tightly, but since Shailaja was hardly the size of a mouse it would effectively prevent escape once she was inside and the heavy door closed.

 

The door was swung back and she was unceremoniously pushed inside and the door closed.  She heard the thunk of a heavy bar as it was lowered into place.  With a sigh Shailaja looked about her, her eyes adjusting to the dark as the only light in the room filtered in through the gaps in the logs. 

 

There was very little to the room; just four walls, a roof, and the door.  The floor was of packed earth and there was no furniture so at first Shailaja stood and thought about how she might escape.  It very quickly came to her that escape was going to be difficult unless she could somehow find her way out of the room.  Her wrists were still bound, as were her arms, and with little better to do she tried to work free of the ropes. 

 

She quickly found that she was very well tied, and it was some time before she finally slipped a hand free of her bonds.  After that it was a little easier and she quickly got rid of the rest of the ropes.  She coiled the ropes up and carefully stowed them overhead.  She had no idea if they would be useful later, but one never knew what might come in handy.  Then she simply waited.

 

Someone came eventually, as she knew they would.  The door was opened and although she readied herself for a chance to escape it never came.  Three warriors blocked the door, one with a drawn sword.  Behind them were several more.  She might have fought her way past the first three, but there were too many to overcome without a weapon and so she waited to see what they wanted of her.

 

As it turned out one of them had food and water and another a bucket for her to use when necessary.  It appeared that she was not going to be allowed out of her prison until it suited her captors.  The man who brought her food noticed that she had worked loose from her bonds and it took him only a few heartbeats to locate them.  He made no comment, but simply retrieved the ropes and took them with him.  The door was then closed and she was left to herself.

 

There was little for her to do but eat her simple meal and then try to sleep.  But Shailaja found imprisonment difficult.  Her captivity weighed heavily upon her and she found herself imagining all sorts of unpleasant scenarios, many of which she had already experienced.  She paced back and forth counting her steps as she did so, turning her predicament over and over again in her mind.

 

She knew that Cleron was dead, but of course, his line lived on.  And in the true spirit of Prithia still sought vengeance for the death of their emperor.  The fact that she had merely put the coward who had kidnapped and raped her out of his misery mattered not, even if the members of the Emperor’s guard had not lied about it.  Now after five years of fleeing an unjust punishment she had been captured.  It made her life seem so futile.   

 

With these gloomy thoughts in her mind she finally gave in to sheer boredom and curled up against the log wall.  Somehow, in spite of the lack of blankets and the fact that it was uncomfortably cool in the room, she managed to find sleep.

 

She awoke to the sound of two voices; one that of a woman, and from the sound of it a young one at that; and the other that of Kaylan.  The woman’s or perhaps girl’s voice was raised in anger.

 

“You have dishonoured yourself, brother,” the girl said; the last word of the sentence spoken with clear contempt.  “To lure an enemy into captivity is one thing, but to trick someone you have promised your protection is a not worthy of a prince of Nahn.”

 

“I gave no such promise, sister,” Kaylan replied angrily.  “I promised the merchant protection; I said nothing about extending such to the Kaltaran.”

 

“No,” the girl said.  “I have no doubt you chose your words most carefully in order to lure your unsuspecting prey into your net.  You even had the merchant deliver her into your hands so that you could claim that her betrayal was none of your doing.  But we both know why you did it, and it has nothing to do with honour and a great deal to do with gold.”

 

“Yes, there is the gold,” Kaylan admitted.  “The Prithian emperor has promised her weight in gold for the pleasure of punishing the murderer of his father.  Do you not realize how many men I could draw to my banner with such wealth?”

 

“It is a most dishonourable way to achieve your goal.  But have it your, way,” the girl replied, resignation in her voice.  “I know that nothing I can say will sway you.  I will defend this position while you take your redheaded booty to claim your reward.  But let it be known that when you return I will have no more of this venture.”

 

“We will see, sister,” Kaylan sneered.  “Perhaps your high minded ideals will change when I return with three thousand gold ounces.”

 

The conversation moved away then and Shailaja could make out no more of what was said, although she could still hear the girl’s voice raised in protest.  Now she understood the motive behind Kaylan’s perfidy, and knew that not everyone supported it.  However, that knowledge did her little good.  She thought about her chances.  Prithia was a long way from where she was.  Somewhere along the way there would be a chance for escape and when it came she would take it.

---