Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the setting, or anything Tamora Pierce, for that matter.
The day's ride it took to get to Steadfast was not out of the ordinary. Of course the small company of riders from New Hope was cautious, but in truth nothing was expected. They didn't know that their every move had been calculated, past journeys studied. The scouts that were always sent ahead were slain in complete silence
It was just when the flutter of the thought at why they hadn't returned crossed Kel's mind that the raiders struck.The attack was swift, much swifter than she would've believed possible from the usually disorganized Scanrans. A short battle ensued, but the attackers were all heavily built and fully armed. The few guards who managed to push their advantage were quickly shot down. Before any Tortallan had so much as blinked, their horses were gutted, their weopons thrust from their hands, and everyone brought to their knees. Kel struggled, attempting to twist around and throw off her captor, but he was holding her in such a way that it was impossible. Glancing to her left, she saw Neal doing the same thing, but to no avail. She finally stopped and surveyed the damage.
Three of her soldiers were dead, which left two more alive, along with herself, Neal, and Merric. She didn't know what had become of her scouts. As she was thinking, rough hands tied a gag around her mouth. Harsh ropes bound her hands, and she couldn't reach her boot knife. As though reading her mind, her captor thrust his hand down her boot, found the weopon, and tossed it aside. "Check them all," he said in Scanran. His men hurried to do so, and once everyone had been disarmed they forced the Tortallans to stand up.
"Which of you are Keladry of Mindelan and Nealan of Queenscove?" he said in rough Common. Kel looked at Neal, silently asking. He gave a miniscule nod, and together they stepped forward. Kel's captor snapped his fingers, and another man came to hold her. He stepped around so he was facing her and smiled cruelly. He was surprisingly clean, his teeth not rotting, his clothing in order, his long pale hair kept. "My king has a bone to pick with you. You will be coming with us back to Hamrkeng. The rest of them," he looked around, "may be disposed of as soon as we get off of the road. Let us go." Blindfolds were put over everyone's eyes.
The small band was marched through the woods, forced to blindly follow the guidance of their captors, who made no effort at all to keep them from stepping in ruts or running into branches. After what seemed like a long time, but was probably only a few minutes, the leader whistled to halt. Kel was forced to her knees yet again, and when her blindfold was removed she saw that Neal was crouched beside her, and both were facing their three companions. Cold fear washed over her as the Scanran's last words rang in her head. Merric was directly across from her, sweat dripping down his forehead, his eyes horrified. Three Scanrans lined up behind her companions. They drew their bows.
Neal shouted something, but the effect was muffled by his gag. Kel began struggling with all her might against the man holding her. She kicked out wildly, uselesslly. And then, in a prolonged, agonizingly slow moment, the Scanrans released their arrows. Merric and the soldiers fell forward, the arrowheads imbedded deep in their skulls. Kel screamed out. The men forced her and Neal to their feet, and Kel, still taking everything in, was doubly horrified that her friends' bodies were to be left in the open. They marched on.
When they had gone some distance, the stormwings showed up. Kel was filled with rage as she watched the creatures fly above her and a female alight on a branch ahead. Merric hadn't died in battle, but in cold-blooded murder. His body did not deserve to be desecrated by these beasts. The female opened her mouth. "We did not touch your friends, Protector. Their deaths were not ones to rejoice in; the method sickens us," she flew away. Kel wished they would fly to Steadfast, to New Hope, anywhere, and report what had happened. She knew that they would not.
On they marched. Nights went by in complete silence, neither she or Neal able to do anything about their situation. The Scanrans were not careless, but methodical, never overconfident, always on the alert for possible escape attempts. When they crossed the Vassa she and Neal were put in a waiting supply wagon, which was left uncovered so their every move could be watched. They were always blindfolded. From the conversations of her guards, Kel gathered that the squad sent to capture her and Neal was an elite group, King Maggur's closest protectors. Usually they were kept around to guard him, but they were also used for special missions that could not afford to go wrong. Like capturing the commander of New Hope and her second in command. She just wondered why. Why would they have need of two people who run a village? Why would they waste time and resources planning an attack when they could use the same energy to capture someone important: Lord Raoul, General Vanget, Lord Wyldon? These questions ran through her mind constantly.
The day finally came that they rode into the capital city. When they reached the palace—a dark structure all wood and weathered stone—the leader turned to them. "Remove their blindfolds and gags. Show them to their room."
As soon as her binding was removed Kel took a deep breath. "Why are we here?"
"Silence. The King wishes to meet with you tomorrow. For now you will be locked away and you will be silent."
"Yes, master," muttered Neal. His comment earned him a hard kick to the shin, making him stumble. His guard kicked him along, and Kel winced for her friend. He made a face at her, but his look quickly turned to concern as he took in her appearance. I must look as bad as I feel, she thought, and as bad as he looks. The journey had not been kind to Neal. He was bedraggled, his hair dirty and messy, his clothing ripped in several places. Kel's own clothing had suffered similar damage. The Scanrans had found it fun sport to beat and humiliate their captives on the road. It wasn't particularly painful, but it was demeaning. And neither of them had been able to see what was happening to the other.
They were thrust into a small, windowless room with a bed, a chair, and a bathing tub filled with water. It looked like the type of room that would belong to a maid or manservant. Four guards followed them in; two untied their hands as the other two watched. They left without a word, locking the door behind them.
Neal and Kel stood staring at one another, taking each other in. Neither quite knew what to do, what was happening. For the first time in either of their lives, they felt defeated, completely helpless.
"Kel."
Neal rushed at her, embracing her with all of his strength. She hugged him back with equal fervor and buried her face into his shoulder. Finally Neal let go slightly and slid his hands down to grip her elbows. He backed up and looked into her face."Did they hurt you?" He touched a dried and bloody cut on her brow, healing it with the slightest pressure of his fingers.
"Yes, but not in the way you mean. I'm all right. You?"
"Oh, don't worry about me. It'll take more than a few kicks to the ribs to get me down. Horse blood and all." Kel smiled weakly at the memory. "Kel, what do you suppose they want with us?"
"I don't have a clue. We aren't valuable to Tortall, not enough that they'd hold us for ransom. Do you think it could have something to do with Blayce?"
Neal frowned. "I'm afraid those are my thoughts exactly. He wasn't happy when his killing machines stopped killing; they were his main weopon. Everybody in the Eastern Lands knows that it was you who led the operation, and it wouldn't be hard to find out who was fighting alongside you."
"You don't think he just wanted revenge, do you? It's so foolish…such a waste of resources."
Neal smiled bitterly. "You forget, my dear, that Scanrans are notorious for being foolish. Just because King Maggot is one of the smarter ones doesn't mean he doesn't come from the same stock."
Kel sighed and backed away from Neal. A clatter from the door startled them; glancing around, they saw a tray had been slid under the wide crack between the bottom of the door and the floor. Neal hurriedly snatched it up and removed the cover with shaking hands. Neither one had eaten in close to three days. Neal brought it over to the bed and sat down, gesturing for Kel to sit beside him. On the tray was a note; Kel opened and read it aloud.
"Please bathe and make yourselves presentable. There is fresh clothing in the wardrobe. You meet the King tomorrow at midmorning." She made a face. "Well, that' s blunt. At least we know he isn't trying to poison us, if he wants to meet us tomorrow."
Neal, who was scarfing down a slice of bread, looked at her with his mouth full. "At thish point I don'th care if itsh boisoned." He swallowed, and promptly started inhaling the thick vegetable soup. Kel, unable to hold out any longer, did the same. When they'd finished all of the food, Neal let out a laugh that was more like a bark. Kel looked at him, alarmed.
"What?"
"Nothing. It's just…I finally ate my vegetables."
Shaking her head at his ability to joke in their present situation, she lay back on the bed. "I think I'll just close my eyes for a while." Just for a minute… She shut her eyes.
Neal watched her for a moment, sighed, and stood. Stretching, catlike, he picked up the empty tray and slid it back under the door. He then settled down into the room's only chair, noticing that Kel was already breathing heavily, the breath of one who is deep in slumberland.