Her body tensed as the men fanned out around her. Ten, maybe twelve had hunted her throughout the night. At the beginning, there had been less – but reinforcements were called in as soon as her hunters found that their prey would not yield easily. Every man who attempted to take her as trophy were bloodied, wounded…her knives served her well.
"Enough."
The voice shot through the black expanse as the ringleader stalked towards her on the damp earth. She could feel him in the darkness – he was moving around her too quickly to see… to quickly to wound. Her grip tightened on silver blades as she readied herself for the attack.
Too late.
A large brown hand had found itself upon her chest and throat, slamming her against the tree. Red haze clouded her vision, the man's voice her head.
"Sarah Williams of the Aboveground, you are a gift worthy of a king."
A sharpness on her chest sharpened her mind to the man's voice, but her mind spun as a blackening haze clouded her vision……Sarah William's body dropped to the forest floor, unconscious.
Inside the holding cell, Sarah Williams gingerly roused herself from her forced slumber as she rediscovered the fresh pain of the previous night. She was still whole, and her clothes intact. Her smile was feral. She could find no wounds, only bruises to counter the slashes she had inflicted upon her hunters.
Her blades. Slim fingers flashed against the sheaths upon her forearms – they were gone. Panicked, she bolted upright, immediately to come crashing against the floor.
Laughter from the far wall.
"Well, looks like the lady won't be moving round to soon." The voice belonged to the one who had spoken before - the man who had known her name.
"Where the hell are my blades?" Her question, meant to contain a commanding tone, tore from her throat in a painful gasp.
"The Lady speaks. The blades are out of harm's way – you'll get them when the time comes. Until then…"
"Awake Lady Williams, the time has come." That damnable voice sounded excited and amused, rousing Sarah from her stupor. Instinctively, Sarah's hands moved for her blades and were surprised to find them secure in her wrist sheaths, gleaming and ready for the next attack. The voice continued.
"Gold and jewels are not worthy of our King. Priceless artifacts can be tossed aside. Paintings burned." The voice rose to a shout. "Our King deserves better than these trinkets!" Scattered applause broke from outside the container. Sarah rose to her feet, her fingers tracing the blades that covered her wrists.
"For you, my King, we have hunted for three days. Your best men have given blood for this gift, magic for this gift. For all our efforts, this prize needed your power as well."
A rustle outside the container as a second man began to speak.
"Your generosity in granting your power to us defies even the most generous of gods. My Lord, many years we have searched, waited for an opportunity to give you something perfect." In unison, they spoke,
"For you, our King, we have found a gift that is worthy."
Sarah unsheathed both blades as the sides of the container fell away. She was surrounded by a mulitiude of people – there would be no quick way to escape. Unsheathing her blades, Sarah readied herself to attack, plans already forming in her mind about window on the far right, the large door to the left.
"Sarah."
From behind her came the voice that had haunted her dreams. Only one man's voice could reach the secret places within her that no man would ever be able to touch. Only on man's voice sent a thrill that ran her spine, crying for her to either run or attack.
Gods, no. Of it's own accord, her body slowly turned to face the one who spoke. Her body froze, her heart caught in her chest.
Sarah Williams was looking directly into the mismatched eyes of the Goblin King.