Posted 2024-05-18; Beta'd by Eeyorefan12
Bella came to as Demia lurched forward.
Staying slumped over, she stared sideways at the small shelter where Esme and Edward lay. So far as she could tell, there was no blood, but they weren't moving either. Were they alive? Sliding her fingers slowly under the cover of her dress, she began to unbuckle the leg holds.
A hand snapped over hers so quickly, she gasped. Zuar wrenched her back by the forearms, twisting her painfully against his torso.
She struggled, her fingernails catching at his skin.
"If you want them to stay alive, then don't move." If the words weren't threatening enough, their utterance in English was even more chilling.
The handle of his machete pushed into her back. Bella swallowed, not resisting. He'd already used the blade on . . . something, and just because she hadn't seen blood didn't mean there wasn't any. When he tied her hands together in front of her, she didn't fight him but turned her head as they began to move, watching the hut disappear as they descended a small slope. Zuar finished securing the rope, the mild pressure highlighting the throb in her forearm where he'd grabbed her. His movements were practiced. He'd done this before.
He refastened her blindfold, abandoning the propriety he'd shown earlier, before urging Demia forward with a squeeze of his legs. He knew how to ride a dragon, too. She heard the clank of buckles being loosened, then a loud slap and a whoosh as Demia flexed her wings.
"Hold the pommel," Zuar warned her.
She knew the dragon wasn't flying, but it felt like it, the wind chilling her further than all her gruesome speculations. Keeping her bound hands buried in her skirts, she detached an already loose patch of fabric and released it in hopes of it becoming a trail.
"What did you do to them?" she asked.
"I cut one of his bonds." They turned sharply, moving downhill at speed. "I didn't hurt them."
The wave of relief was quickly replaced with one of anger. "My husband was already hurt."
"Not by me." As the incline increased, he wrapped an arm around her, readjusting his grip to accommodate her belly. The wind and specks of icy rain made Bella's skin prickle.
"Where are you taking me?" The wind was loud now. She had to almost yell to be heard.
"To the people who brought you here."
— o — 0 — o —
Zuar checked the knot on the rope securing Bella's wrists to the scrubby tree. "The dragon will keep away most predators, but it's winter—so if you do decide to be foolish and run, be wary. You're worth a good deal of gold alive, but you're not worth giving my life."
He turned and tended to the Cullens' small, smokeless camp stove.
She'd wrestled first with shock, fear, and then exhaustion, disrupted by occasional flickers of anger and resentment; the latter was what she felt now, watching Zuar cook the food Esme had prepared for their journey.
"Are you warm enough?" Zuar asked.
Even in Alice's coat, Bella felt the bite of the cold, but she was well for the moment. She nodded.
"There's privacy enough behind the tree, if you need it," he said, not looking at her. "You can even leave another scrap of fabric there, if it offers you some comfort. No one will follow us here."
Her face tingled as it warmed with a flush. Had she been so obvious?
She stood. The rope had enough length to let her relieve herself out of sight, awkward as it was. She rinsed off her hands with the water that dripped from the tree's spiny leaves, returning to the miniscule heat of the camp stove.
Beyond the cryptic answer he'd given about where he was taking her, he wouldn't say anything more—not about how long it would take, what would be waiting for them—nothing. He had told her they'd camp for the night where they were, which was good, as the cloud-dimmed light had already begun to fade.
Bella stared around the small flat space bordered by mountains. Even in the full dark with Zuar sound asleep, her chances at escape would be dubious—and the likelihood of getting anywhere safe even more marginal.
The best she could do was to leave a trail for someone to follow, obvious as it was to her captor. Edward would come for her. She trusted that.
It was all she had.
Zuar handed her a plate of food, which she accepted with mumbled and insincere thanks.
"I know this area, and I'm the best tracker my people have," Zuar said matter-of-factly. "They won't find you, even with your trail."
She had no way of knowing if he was lying. If he was, it made his claims around Edward and Esme's safety suspect. She decided it was better to believe him.
"Your mate and his mother are no doubt free by now and returning home." He'd switched back to Sabellian, but this he offered again in English.
She looked up from her meal. Were they? And if they were, why was he telling her? Did he expect her thanks? Compliance? Despair? And he was speaking in English. How did he even know it?
She studied his features. The limp hair hid a heart-shaped face, and if the fading light wasn't playing tricks on her—unusually bright green eyes. Just like Esme's and Rose's. In better circumstances, she might have thought him a not-so-distant relation.
Recalling the story Esme had told her, Bella wondered if he was.
As Zuar ate, he swept aside his hair, revealing a prominently crooked jaw. In the same moment, he looked up at her, his features twisting. "Confirming your suspicions?"
"What?"
He gestured to his jaw. "Crooked like my character?"
"I don't know your character, but so far your morals aren't exactly straight."
He snorted, putting his bread down. "Says the woman who's been living with a family of former slavers, no doubt in a fine house with a full belly and no fear for your wellbeing. They even gave you the protection of their name"—he glanced pointedly at her stomach —"for the sake of appearances, I suppose."
"Well, I've been abducted twice in the last year, most recently by you, so I don't think you're exactly entitled to lecture me." Though the numbness was fading, her hands felt icy. She wanted to defend the Cullens but decided against it. It was a risk, saying anything that might provoke him. "Though you seem capable of doing so in English."
Zuar picked up his food again. "You don't belong here. I'm merely returning you to the people who brought you. For all I know, they'll take you back."
Her throat clenched. Would they? He spoke English. Perhaps he was more involved than he'd suggested so far.
"How do you know my language?" she asked.
"Your language," he snorted. "It's as much mine as yours. I grew up speaking it—that and more native tongues."
If it was the truth, it meant he wasn't an offworlder. A small comfort.
"What will they pay you?" He didn't seem motivated by anything altruistic.
She wasn't wrong. The sum he named was dizzying. It was more than what the kidnappers had demanded for Edward, certainly more than the Cullens' home was worth. More than their land, the dragons, and Esme's little savings all together.
"What would it take for you to let me go?"
His bitter bark passed for a laugh. "I've told you my price. Where would you get that kind of gold?"
"What will the money buy you? A clean conscience?"
He snorted. "It isn't for me. It's for my family and all those we live with. Freedom. Land far from here. Enough to build farms and live. A future to ourselves."
That was what Edward had gone to offer them. "My husband and his colleagues offered you land—they offered you all of that. Why didn't you take it?"
There was another bark of laughter. Zuar shook his head. "Yes, they did, didn't they. We've seen their offers before, ones that come tied to hidden obligations and restrictions. No doubt they'd give us a nice little island on which to trap us." He eyed her again. "Not that I should blame you for your ignorance, I suppose. You're human. They'd hardly teach you the truth. I almost envy you. Almost. Gashte. You'll never need to worry about keeping yourself, no matter where you are here." Another glance away. "At least with you, I'm guaranteed money we can use how we please. Far more than what they'd have offered us for your husband."
Based on recent events and Edward's concern for her safety, she wasn't sure what he meant, but she was slowly piecing together a picture of him. Her being human was no guarantee of security, but perhaps his view of how things really were in Sabellia was skewed by his isolation. If their journey was long enough, maybe she could reason with him. The Cullens could be powerful allies if Zuar returned her to them.
It was an extremely unlikely if.
"We won't be here long, and you'll need more sleep than me. Get some rest while you can."
Bella finished her food, wrapping herself in the blanket he handed her and trying to sleep. Her dreams were fitful, full of Edward's bruised and swollen face, and she woke several times, each to the remembered and sickening thwack of Zuar's machete.
It was Zuar who woke her finally in the dark hours. "It's time to go."
She stumbled behind the tree to relieve herself again, sore and aching from a cold night on the ground. The only encouraging thing was that her child still moved within her.
There was another day of hard traveling, and then another night on the equally hard, chill ground, this time with snow dusting their blankets in the morning. There were few opportunities for any conversations, and those she tried to initiate were ignored by her captor. By the following midday, freshly unblindfolded, Bella relieved herself, seeing the terrain had shifted again, the gnarled trees giving way to almost familiar-looking conifers. Small furry creatures squeaked as they scurried across their path.
The unrelenting rain alternated with snow. Alice's coat kept Bella dry, but the constant wash of icy precipitation chilled her to the bone. Her face felt numb, and the only sparks of feeling were the shooting pains down her legs and the pull of her belly as they lurched over the rough terrain.
When Zuar exhaled heavily at the top of a steep rise, Bella tensed, knowing something momentous was at hand.
"You'll be warm soon enough," Zuar said.
The thought of warmth—wherever it was—further chilled her. It wouldn't be with anyone she trusted. And what did they want with her? She didn't dare speculate. It was too terrifying.
When Zuar finally removed her blindfold, it was under the cover of a stone entranceway, above which a much larger fort-like structure rose, its dark turrets capped with snow.
Four grim men in gray uniforms regarded her, steely rifles at the ready.
"Dismount," one of them barked.
Zuar did so, helping Bella slide down awkwardly as well. "She's what you're looking for," he said. "You sent word south to the Kaethe. For humans?" His voice trembled but Bella couldn't tell if it was with excitement or nervousness.
"Human?" One of the taller guards squinted at Bella, pronounced canines poking into his lower lip.
Zuar pulled off one of Bella's gloves, making her wince.
"See?"
The taller guard grabbed her hand, examining it. When he mauled her jaw, she tried to twist away until he fisted her hair, prying open her mouth and fingering her teeth. "Get the Colonel," he said to his colleague. "Tell him she seems real enough."
They were ushered into a small unheated gatehouse where two of the guards watched Zuar and Bella, their gazes sliding up and down her body.
She did her best to ignore them, looking around the austere space. The men's uniforms bore military-like marks. Was this where Northern Sabellia kept its clandestine research?
From her vantage point in the room, she couldn't see out any of the windows. She recognized Demia's huffing as she was led away. There were muttered voices from outside. Finally, the door was thrust open and another uniformed figure stepped inside. His carriage suggested a superior rank.
He stared at her, blinking a few times. "Get her inside to processing," he said to someone behind him. "She may need warm water."
Zuar glanced at Bella, something flickering across his features. "She might also need medical care," he said. "It—I had to be a bit rough when I captured her."
Bella kept her surprise to herself. Whatever processing was, he was trying to avoid her being sent to it. She slid her chilled arms over her stomach.
The new man frowned. "Take her to be seen, then."
Two new men edged into the room, both clad in straw-colored coats. "Come," one of them said.
As she followed them, Bella overheard a few words between the Colonel and Zuar. Something about a pair of alogos and gold. After a few steps into the covered walkway, the voices faded, and she was soon walking past a heavy door, which the men locked behind her. Ahead, the corridor was lit by dull gray lampas. She struggled to keep up with her escorts, even as they slowed their pace. The three flights of stairs were worse, though her captors paused to let her rest.
Their destination was the topmost floor of a skylighted gallery. The central opening was screened with a metal grille, through which Bella could spy a small, treed courtyard. The circling walkway was lined with doors, some closed, some open, allowing her to glimpse neatly made beds, surprisingly modern medical equipment, a sitting room, and more than one oddly familiar metal table. One of the men tugged at her sleeve, pulling her towards one of the doors as the other knocked on it quietly.
There was a shuffle inside before the door opened silently.
"Yes?"
Bella stared.
Sherooz Adnios?
"New carrier needs a medical check," one of the men said.
If he recognized her, the sherooz said nothing, stepping back and waving the three of them inside.
"They said she might be hurt," one of Bella's escorts said.
"I see." The sherooz nodded, eyeing her damp clothing. "Can you get her"—he looked directly at Bella—"your name, please?"
"Miss . . . Swan," she murmured.
"Please get Miss Swan some dry clothing."
There were chuckles behind her. "Sure, Miss. Right away." Both men laughed. "Anything else you need, Sherooz?"
The sherooz was doing a good job of pretending not to know her. "You're human," he said quietly.
Bella nodded, playing along.
"She'll need to be kept somewhere warm."
"Well, we'll find you a palace in the kitchen then, won't we?" The mocking tone sent shivers down Bella's back.
"Quickly, please. Fresh water and blankets too."
One of the men left, the other leaning by the door.
"Sit down, please." The sherooz waved Bella towards a chair near a metal folding table. He pulled out a file and paper, jotting her name onto the folder before he began asking questions, taking a rudimentary medical history.
"How far along are you?" he finally asked, his gaze drifting behind her briefly towards the man standing at the not uniformed, he was as much a guard as the armed ones outside.
A loud staticky crackle made Bella jump. She only caught the tail end of a name before the man at the door spoke again. "Two minutes—you don't need me?" he called to the sherooz.
"I'm fine, thank you."
As soon as the door clicked shut, Bella leaned forward, whispering, "Can you help me? Get back to my family? To the Cullens?" Zuar's mention of a return to earth hinted at a dim possibility, but even so, she wanted to be clear where she wanted to go.
The sherooz made a soft "Shh," slowly looking around the room and tapping his ear.
They were being listened to.
Were they being watched also? She pointed to her eyes and then looked where he had.
He shook his head.
Can you help me? she signed.
He frowned, holding up his hands.
No, he didn't sign.
Instead, he pulled a scrap of paper from his dustbin, writing out: What happened?
As briefly as she could, she scribbled out the details. There were a few more questions, and then she paused before writing: Why are you here?
I've come here for years. I help with what I can. It makes things . . . more bearable for the women.
What is this place?
The door opened, the guard returning, and the sherooz quickly mixed the paper into her file. "I'd like to examine you, to make sure you're well enough to be taken to your room."
Behind the small privacy screen, Bella shivered as she changed out of her wet clothes, grateful to don the plain but blessedly dry wrap dress the man had brought. Made of a grey-blue denim-like fabric, it wasn't warm. She wrapped the blanket around her before stepping outside.
"For the incinerator?" The man held the bundle by a wall-mounted metal drawer.
"Not the coat!" Bella blurted out.
The man ignored her, looking to the sherooz.
"The coat can be cleaned, and she'll need it here, seeing as our kitchens aren't very palatial." He lifted an eyebrow.
"Call me when you're done with her. The roster's up. We're short, so—"
"No. She can't." Sherooz Adnios spoke sharply. "At all. Garvin, that should be made very clear to everyone."
Garvin—Bella tucked away the name while trying to puzzle out what the sherooz was talking about.
"Understood." Garvin left.
The sherooz pulled the paper from her file, crumpled it into a ball, and then put it into the wall-mounted drawer. He frowned. "I'm sorry about your clothes."
Bella shook her head. It felt silly to even worry about them at all, but as she thought about Alice, her breathing picked up, because next she thought of Edward and Esme. Were they really alive? Had Zuar only told her what he had to in order to keep her docile?
"Mrs. Cullen," the sherooz whispered. "Compose yourself."
She did, nodding.
"Now," he said clearly, "I do need to examine you, to make sure you and the baby are well."
- — - — - — -
Eeyorefan12's Corner: Just a quick note of reassurance for those who are concerned about the implied cliffhanger in the title—Sabellia: Book 1 will be able to stand alone as a complete story. You're just going to want more when it's done. ;)