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There's No Place Like Home, Chapter 4


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#1 Laufey

Posted 09 March 2003 - 01:54 PM

Chapter 4 – Capture

Poppy ran as fast as she could, but she could hear the approaching hoof beats behind them, rolling like the thunder, and she knew that they’d be caught within seconds. Then, the warriors were upon them. She felt a large hand grasping her and hoisting her into the air, and then she was dangling across a broad, brown horseback, shaking about like a pea in a bowl, despite the fact that her captor was holding her in place. She tried to keep an eye out for her Best Friend, but hanging upside-down as she was she didn’t have a chance to spot him. However, there was a sudden pained shout coming from another rider somewhere behind her, so she guessed that he’d managed to hurt somebody. Then she was suddenly unceremoniously dumped onto the ground again, in a circle of people who were watching her curiously. There were all the armed warriors of course, and the two women. They looked different, but they had something in common that the haflfling found very interesting, a certain air of confidence, almost of regality. Then, her Best Friend was dropped almost on top of her by a surly-looking warrior who was nursing a still bleeding hand.

“Don’t say anything,” the boy murmured into her ear as he staggered to his feet, grasping her hand protectively. “Not a word. Pretend to be mute.”

Dekaras had his reasons for this request of course. He didn’t want to think about what the Wychlaran might do to his friend if they heard her speaking Thayvian. Even Common wouldn’t be much better; it would still brand her as an intruder. They might kill her! Even if they didn’t, they’d ask all sorts of dangerous questions. He was still extremely frightened of course, but somehow he managed to keep his legs from trembling. He had to get them out of here somehow, and he couldn’t afford to give in to fear again. Think about how much you hate them instead. That’s much better. Hatred gave him a sort of cold focus, something to cling to, something to keep him steady, and as the two Witches approached he gave them a cold and hostile glare. I wish I could kill them. I wish I could kill them all.

“My, what a fierce little boy,” the younger of the two women said in an amused voice. She had a long necklace of beads and claws dangling around her neck, and he stared at it, refusing to meet her eyes. He wasn’t sure he could keep the fear away if he did.

“You can say that,” the surly warrior behind the boy said, raising his bleeding hand in an accusatory manner. “He bit me!”

Yes I did, and I hope your hand turns black and falls off. Pity I couldn’t get my dagger out, or I could have done worse.

The older of the two witches shrugged, and gave the warrior a not particularly sympathetic look. “If you cannot deal with a foe that small, then you are not much good to us, now are you? Perhaps we should report your incompetence to your chieftain.”

The man stiffened. “No, I…pardon my outburst, Wychlaran. I meant no disrespect.”

“Good.” Her face was placid, but there was a certain bite to her voice, and her dark eyes were knowing. Now she was approaching the children, not smiling. “Children, why are you here, alone in the wilderness? Surely this is no place for young ones.”

“We…are lost,” the young Dekaras said, frantically trying to come up with some story that might sound plausible. It had been a long time since he had spoken more than a few words in his birth tongue, and it felt strangely alien to him now. Have to keep the story as simple as possible, or she will guess I’m lying. I won’t be taken again. I won’t. I’ll die first. Except…he wasn’t alone this time. There was his Best Friend to consider, who was even now watching him trustingly. It’s my fault she’s even here to begin with. I promised I’d keep her safe. If I have to, I’ll…I’ll do whatever it takes. Even if that means going with them. They wouldn’t want me for the same reasons, but I think they still want me.

“Lost?” the Witch said, arching an eyebrow. “Is that so? From which tribe do you come?”

This was a dangerous question, and the boy hesitated a moment before answering. If he gave the name of any of the bigger tribes or clans that he knew of, they ran the risk of one of the warriors being from there, and being able to reveal them. “The Tribe of the Serpent,” he said in a firm voice, recalling the snake that had caused this mess in the first place by spooking Poppy. “It’s a very small one, you’ve probably never even heard of it.” Only after he’d finished speaking did he realized that he hadn’t added the honorific Wychlaran. It went against all the teachings of his early childhood, and his parents would no doubt have been mortified. Well, I don’t care! Let them think I’m ill bred then. They won’t kill us for it.

“That is correct,” the Witch said. She gave him a cold look that told him that she hadn’t missed out on the discourtesy. “I have not. Strange…”

“And what of this other little one?” asked the other, younger Witch. “Does she have nothing to say?” She smiled pleasantly at Poppy.

“She doesn’t speak,” Dekaras hastily said. “She can’t help it.” What does she mean, other little one? I’m not ‘little’. I’m taller than Poppy is. Please Poppy, just keep quiet and don’t blow our cover.

“Hm,” said the older one, and her smile never quite reached her eyes. “Perhaps, yet perhaps not. It…bothers me to see two helpless little ones running about in the middle of nowhere. You might get yourselves into trouble. Or cause it.”

“But Othlor!” the younger woman exclaimed. “They are only children! Surely…”

“Silence!” the leading Witch snapped. Once she was certain that her subordinate was well in hand she went on. “Children they may be, but children in unexpected places is not something I approve of. It is untidy, and I dislike untidiness. Untidiness means disorder, disorder means chaos, chaos means anarchy, and anarchy means rebellion. It would not be beneath our enemies to learn the location of our contingent, plant these two here as some sort of trap, and then fall upon us. I believe some more in-depth questioning is in order.”

“But…”

“Silly girl! I do not mean that. Just a painless, harmless spell.” With that, the Witch muttered the words to a spell, her hands weaving complex patterns in the air as she did so, then tossed something that looked like sparkly sand into the air.

The young Dekaras thought he recognized that spell, in fact he was very much afraid that he did. There had been a local Wychlaran with the tribe, and she had also been very fond of using it whenever she suspected the children of mischief. It was a rare form of divination spell, one that the Witches kept to themselves and definitely were not supposed to teach to outsider mages, for it had the power to divide lies from truth. Anyway, it probably wouldn’t work outside of Rasheman at all, supposedly it was one of those special spells that drew on the power of the land itself. Fortunately, it was also a very literal spell, and if you chose your words carefully it was occasionally possible to get around it. The boy knew this, since he had practiced more than once. Except then nothing more had been at stake than a possible spanking, and now both his and his friend’s life might depend on how good he was at lying.

At least I know what’s going on, he thought, and made himself stare with wide eyes at the Witch, trying to look clueless. Most people wouldn’t, and that gives me a small advantage. He kept a tight hold on Poppy’s hand, trying to silently communicate the need to be quiet.

“Let us begin with something easy, shall we?” the Othlor said, still smiling that unpleasant smile. “What is your name?”

Right. No problem. He opened his mouth to answer, and then froze. There was a very possible risk that these Witches might have heard his name before. It all depended on if they were in a part of Rasheman close to his old home. Only a very few children refused the ‘honor’ of becoming vremyonni, item-makers in thrall to the Witches. The few that did…well, he knew what happened to them. And the Witches might talk it over among themselves, say ‘Oh, last week I sucked the magic out of another kid, you should have heard him scream, my dear.’ That sort of thing. No, he didn’t dare give his real name. But he obviously couldn’t lie either.

“Well?” The Othlor sounded impatient. “I asked you a simple question. What is your name?”

The boy thought furiously for a moment. Then his gaze went to his friend who was glaring angrily at the Witches. Poppy might not understand what was being said, but she could tell when somebody was upsetting her Best Friend, and she didn’t like it. Then he had an idea. Oh gods. Poppy is never going to let me forget this one. “Dekkie,” he said, painfully aware of how sulky he sounded. “My name is Dekkie.”

“Hmmm…” the Othlor said. She still looked suspicious, but since the spell hadn’t gone off she accepted the answer. “Just that? Have you no family name?”

“Um…yes. But I was taught not to give my full name to strange grownups, and I promised not to. So I can’t. I’d be breaking my word, see. You understand, don’t you? Mother always says the Wychlaran think it’s very important to keep your word.” Still no warning from the spell. He was almost beginning to enjoy himself a little, and he knew that was dangerous. This was no game, and the fear was still there, lurking beneath the surface with the hatred. But oh, it felt so good to outwit them and practically laugh in their faces.

“He has you there, Othlor,” said the younger Witch, laughing a little. “Surely it cannot be that important?”

“Hmpf,” the older woman said, her eyes not leaving the children for one instant. “And who do you belong to, child?”

The boy could feel his body tensing just a bit, and he tried to keep the most of the hostility out of his voice. “Nobody. I don’t belong to anybody but me.” Again, the spell gave no sign of dishonesty.

“An orphan, is it? Or a young troublemaker?” The Witch went on, without waiting for another reply. “How did you get here, into the middle of nowhere? Did somebody send you here?”

“No. Nobody sent us.” This was very dangerous ground, and he knew it. If the subject of Thay should crop up, or Red Wizards, it would be almost impossible to conceal the truth. Have to say as little as possible. “We just got lost. Everybody will probably be really angry when we get home.”

“Home, you say, child. And where is home?”

Another dangerous question, and his mouth felt as dry as paper as he rapidly sorted through possible answers. “My parents move about a lot, with the tribe,” he said. At least I suppose they still do. “I was born in the woods, in the great forest.” That much was true. That he didn’t live there any longer was something he fervently hoped the Witch wouldn’t notice.

“The Ashenwood? The Dark Forest?”

“I don’t know…they never said. It was just the forest.”

“Hmmmm…” the Othlor said, and her mouth set in a disapproving frown, as if she was trying to think of a law prohibiting not knowing where you’d been born. “But you still have not answered one of my questions. How did you get here, all by yourselves?”

"It was an accident," the boy said. He didn't particularly want to tell the truth, but at this point he could see no alternative. "We didn't mean to, but we found this magical ring, and it sort of dumped us here…"

"Magical ring?" The woman's voice was sharp, and her eyes glittered eagerly. "You stole it, did you not? Stole it from whatever Wychlaran was in charge of your community?"

"No! I mean, I didn't mean to, only to borrow it." And not from Them either, but she doesn't have to know that.

The Witch had spotted the ring by now, and she was eyeing it greedily. "Whatever the case, it is obviously not yours, unless you happen to be a vremyonni, and such a powerful artefact is much too dangerous for children to handle. Give it here. We will take care of it, and see that you two get home properly."

"No," the young Dekaras said in a flat voice, glaring back up at her. "It's not yours, and you can't have it." We can't get home without it, and I'm not giving anything to any Witch, not ever. I killed one of you before, I don't mind doing it again. Except that had been a last resort action, as he was escaping, and it had only been one Witch, and he had still been very lucky to get away with it. Now there were two, and a small army of warriors as well, and he couldn't possibly hope to kill all those. Next to him, he felt rather than saw his Best Friend tense up just like he did, clearly aware of the danger.

"You are a wilful, rude and disobedient child," the Othlor said in that calm and chilling voice of hers. "You need to be taught proper manners, and proper respect for those above you in age and station. The Law clearly states that deliberate disobedience towards one of the Wychlaran merits the death penalty, but you are young and may yet be trained as you should be. However, I will not put up with your insolence further. Bjaric - get them." She snapped her fingers and one of the warriors moved forward, very quickly for a man of that impressive size.

The boy let out a small gasp of pain as he felt his arm twisted up behind his back, at the same time that another strong arm held him firmly to keep him from wriggling free. Though he managed to plant a solid kick on the shins of the man, and heard a very satisfying grunt, he couldn't get loose, and he felt the Witch trying to remove the ring from his finger. It didn't work though, no more than when he had tried it earlier. Then he caught a ringing slap across the face from the fellow he had kicked earlier, and a hot pain exploded across one cheek and made his head buzz. Vaguely he was aware of Poppy being caught by another berserker, but not before she managed to make the man howl with pain by headbutting him in a very sensitive area.

"Enough!" the Othlor finally hissed. "We haven't the time for this. Clearly the ring is somehow bound to the brat, and tempting as it is to simply remove his finger that might well interfere with the magic. We will bring them both along, and I will consult with my Sisters when we reach our destination. Mount!"

Soon after, the children found themselves bound hand and foot, and tossed across the saddles of one horse each, like two sacks of grain. Feeling as if his teeth were about to shake loose with every step the horse took, Dekaras pondered that maybe it hadn't been a very good idea to let the Witches find out about the magic ring, not that he thought he'd had much of a choice. But at least they don't know where we really come from, they forgot about that in all the excitement. And that means we may still have a chance.

A couple of hours later the two children found themselves rather roughly thrown to the ground inside one of the tents that the troop of warriors had hastily erected as they made camp. One of the guards made certain that they were still tightly trussed up, and then went outside. Poppy squirmed about a little. Being jostled about on a horseback wasn't something she wanted to do again in the near future, particularly when bound. "Ouch," she said. "I'm hurting all over. How are you doing, Dekkie?"

Her Best Friend was lying on his side a short distance away from her, tied up as she was. His hair was falling into his face, but she could still make out a livid bruise across his cheek, and there was a slow trickle of blood from his swollen lip. "I guess I'll live," he said, his voice a little thick. "At least I didn't lose any teeth. How 'bout you?"

"I'm fine, just sore. Ooooh, those big meanies! I'll get them good for hurting you like that, see if I don't! I'll smack them, and I'll kick them and…and…what do they want anyway? I couldn't understand a word you were saying before."

Briefly, the boy summarised the previous conversation. "So it's the ring they want," he said. "I wish I hadn't let on about it…but if I hadn't given some sort of explanation for how we wound up here we'd have been in even more trouble. They might have killed us on the spot."

Poppy contemplated this for a moment. "Dekkie?" she finally said. "You will tell me what this is all about, won't you?"

Her Best Friend nodded sincerely, then winced at the painful movement. "Of course," he said. "I owe you that much. But we have to get out of here first somehow." He wriggled about a little, then snarled with frustration. "Remember when we were given that lesson on escaping bonds and prisons? Remember that skinny old fellow who gave it, Wheezer Tomker his name was I think? Remember how easy he made it look?"

"Yep. He just slipped out of those ropes like it was nothing."

"Well, I thought I understood it, but now it won't work at all, and I should be able to. I wish I'd been allowed to practise a little more on my own."

"But you almost strangled yourself when practising, remember? That's why Master Gorbia said you had to wait until you were bigger."

"No I didn't! It was perfectly safe. I could have held my breath long enough if only he hadn't interfered with me."

"Dekkie, you were turning blue in the face."

"I wasn't!"

"Was too!"

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Not!"

"Too!"

"Not…anyway, I can't get out of these ropes that way. They're too tight. How about you?"

Poppy shook her head. "No way. I can't even budge them. Think maybe we can bite through them? I've got pretty sharp teeth."

"You could try, I guess."

Poppy managed to wriggle along the ground like a worm, and then positioned her mouth over the ropes binding her friend's hands. After a little while she realised that it wasn't going to do any good though. Her lips and tongue were already hurting, but she hadn't managed to so much as soften the rope. Then she thought of something. "Dekkie?" she said. "Have you still got that dagger? The one you aren't really supposed to use?"

The boy stiffened a little, and when he answered excitement had crept into his voice. "Yes, I think so. It's at my left hip, a little to the back. Unless I lost it when they tossed me about you should be able to get to it."

Frowning with concentration the halfling burrowed her head under her friend's tied arms, as he extended them backwards as much as he could to grant her easier access. Eventually she found the weapon, and managed to draw it free. "Careful," her Best Friend said. "If you press the button on the side right now the blade will be released and most likely stab me in the kidneys."

Poppy swallowed heavily, and was very, very careful. When the dagger was finally out of its sheath she put it down on the ground. "You know, Dekkie," she said a little testily. "You aren't really very good at making other people relax."

He only gave a short, almost inaudible little laugh at that. "You're doing fine. Now see if you can get the blade out, but mind it's pointing in the right direction first. You don't want it hitting you in the face when it extends."

Shaking her head with exasperation the halfling went about her task. The dagger shot out of the hilt with a sharp little 'snik', and she once again picked it up with her teeth. She could have done it with her hands, but that would have meant facing the other way while trying to cut her Best Friend's ropes, and that didn't sound like a very good idea. So she carefully sawed away, her jaws and neck aching, not daring to relax for a second for fear of slicing through skin and blood vessels rather than rope. The worst part was that she had to go about her task very slowly so she didn't make any mistakes. Those nasty people could come in at any moment to see what we're up to. And if they do, we'll be in so much trouble. Poppy had been punished now and then by her parents, but something told her that what these people would do would be something far worse than being sent to bed without supper or even a spanking. And I bet Dekkie knows it too. That's why he acted like he did before. They did something to him before, I know it, something that hurt him really bad. And I wish I could kill them for it.

Finally, after an agonisingly long time, she got through the ropes. Once her Best Friend was free, he rapidly cut her own bonds, then gave her a firm hug. "Thanks Poppy," he said, sounding very serious. "I couldn't have done it without you."

"'Course you couldn't," Poppy said, feeling warm and happy despite the circumstances. "That's what Best Friends do. Are we gonna get out of here now? I'm really hungry now…"

The boy nodded. "Yes. Just a moment though." He pointed at the opening of the tent, closed by a leather flap. "There's a magic ward on the ground by the door, a little bit up in the air. Anybody who walks through it will trigger an alarm. We need to get over it, and then once we get out we'll have to be very careful not to be seen. There's no guard right by the door, I've listened for that, but they will be out there somewhere."

"Magic ward? But how do you…"

Her friend shook his head, his eyes looking very big and dark in the pale oval of his face. "Not now, Poppy," he said, and from the tension in his voice the halfling quite correctly guessed that he was scared still, despite his attempts to appear confident. "Just get on my back. I'll carry you across."

"Right," Poppy said as she climbed into a piggyback position. "Just don't drop me, or I'm giving you the tickle torture when we get home."

The boy staggered a little under even the halfling's slight weight, not being all that much bigger than she was. "Whatever. I'll be happy as long as we get home. And stop squeezing my ribs like that."

"I'm just holding on."

"With your knees? I won't drop you, I promise." He was moving a little erratically as he made his way towards the tent flap, but he did manage to get it open and then took two very careful steps outside, lifting his legs high as he did so. Moving as silently as they knew how, the two children slipped away through the darkness, heading towards the edge of the camp.
Rogues do it from behind.




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