Chapter IX
Tory awoke noiselessly, her instincts telling her to neither move nor speak.
'Where the hell am I?' she thought, discreetly opening one eye and peering around.
There were four men sitting around a dark wooden table. Each held a glass of beer, and didn't look – or smell- like any of them had had a shower in many days.
"-Said he would pay us 50 000 grits for the dog." One of the men was saying.
"They were right when they warned us about him." The second one said, taking a swig from his glass. The amber liquid dribbled down into his scraggily beard. Tory licked her lips, suddenly reminded of her parched throat.
"Yeah! He's a cheating bastard!" The third agreed, raising his glass. Some of the beer sloshed onto the table, but he didn't seem to notice.
"Lets just kill the dog! It's probably dead anyway." The fourth concluded, standing unsteadily to his feet. The other followed suit, grabbing a knifes from random spots around the room, and heading towards the cage.
As they reached the for the door of the cage, a deep, crisp voice resounded around the room.
"What makes you think I will not pay you?"
All five heads snapped towards the direction of doorway.
There stood the most terrifying person Tory had ever seen. He wore deep black robes that swept the floor around and behind him and a black mask that covered his angular face. The mask went all the way to the back of the head, and from the forehead back was covered in pure black feathers. Though it would have been humorous on somebody else, on the man it was absolutely terrifying. All of Tory's nerves screamed at her to run, but considering that she was in an iron cage, that wasn't the best idea. But the worst part about the man was that her reeked of noble. The sickly sweet smell of noble. It stung her nose and made her mouth feel fuzzy.
"Lord- lord-" The first man, closest to the door stammered, but was interrupted by one of his comrades.
"Lord Darcia!"
They ran so fast that the heat felt cold. The dirt stung they're eyes and noses. Their tongue lolled out like fleshy pink leaves. Their legs ached and their muscles burned. But Tory was more important then petty discomforts. So they pushed on, as the reek of noble became stronger.