Because there was no windows in the wagon, Hellrien soon lost all sense of time. The cart was shaking and rattling and the noise inside was deafening. Wheels squeaked and screeched in curves and descents. The cart smelled of blood and death. Hellrien rolled herself to her side.
Grunting and groaning she tried to cut the cord. She could feel blood flowing from her wrists. Another try… and another, but to no avail. If only she could find something to cut the twine with! She was in a difficult position and there was nothing sharp inside the wagon.
After what felt like hours the cart finally stopped. The back doors were opened and Hellrien was pulled outside. The sun had already set, but it was not quite dark yet. Hellrien could see that they were in some kind of abandoned farmyard. There were cobwebs everywhere. Judging from the architecture and height of the main house the farm had been built by the little folk, but it had clearly been abandoned and left to rot a long time ago. Now the farm had new occupants.
Hellrien and Taraborn were shoved through the farmyard over to a cart in the back, very similar to the carts they had been just pulled out of. Coming closer Hellrien saw that the cart had been turned into a mobile prison cell with bars and metal fittings.
The captive Dawners were tossed into the cart-cage. Hellrien sprawled onto the muck-slimed floor and heard the door being slammed shut behind her. The farmyard was filled with sounds of shouted orders and arguments, knives being sharpened and other daily camp chores performed. The smell of really nice roast pork filled the night air.
”Your game’s over… Cole’s gonna get y’all nicely hanged for this!” Hellrien yelled. Nobody paid any attention to her futile threats. The red-hooded woman was squabbling with a group of others.
”Nobody touches pretty boy until I'm done wi' him ... gorrit!”
”But Ast”, complained another women, "they're never any good when you're done with 'em.”
”Still good for me”, laughed a hulking brute of a man, briefly grabbing his crotch as he walked past the quarreling women. The hooded woman slammed her mace against the hulk’s chest and kicked him for good measure.
”Fuck off ya bugger!”
The brute grunted, but didn’t challenge the woman. Even the brigands seemed a little wary of her. She removed her cloak and revealed a thick set of dark hair. Her face wasn’t all bad to look at, nothing a good wash couldn’t improve anyhow, Hellrien noticed.
Taraborn shuffled to the back of the cage and leaned against the wall. He looked down at his breeches and the multiple cuts on them.
”Well… the travel arrangements ye made were fucked”, he grunted at Hellrien. ”An' the accommodations are crap an' all.”
”Well, I’m sorry!” Hellrien grimaced, trying to stop the bleeding from her flank. It wasn’t a life-threatening wound, at least not yet, but it was bleeding profusely. It was only a flesh wound, but if left unattended it would get infected and be the death of her. She listened to the conversations the brigands were having over at the fire.
”Reckon' we dun need to keep fancy hat alive”, said the dark-haired woman with her mouth full of pork, ”didn't like her crowin' when she realised Cole had fucked us o'er.”
Hellrien pricked her ears. Cole! What was she saying? What did she mean by that? Did they know him… what about Cole?
”Going to be havin' myself a nice… 'conversation'”, said a brigand sharpening his blade over a grindstone. ”Need 'em nice an' sharp.”
”Well then”, Tara huffed, interrupting Hellrien’s musings, ”'ow we gettin' out?”
”Not before they go to sleep, that's for sure”, said Hellrien.
”Well first we figure out 'ow we get outa these.” Tara was struggling against his bonds.
”Now, if I let you help with this 'conversation'”, said the redshirt over at the fire, ”think you can manage without breaking bones? We don't need another like that last one. Corpses can't answer questions, see?”
”Ow'd I know his head was s' soft?”, said the dark-haired woman.
”Cause he weren't a troll?”
Hellrien slid her fingers through the bars, getting a cut to her index finger. ”The bars are kind of sharp, ain't they though?” she whispered. ”A couple of hours of hard work will do the trick, I suppose.”
”An' if we ain't got a few hours? I wan' t' be gone quick.”
”Do you have better ideas? I'm listening.”
”Alrigh'”, said the dark-haired woman. ”Alrigh', yer made yer point... we'll cut up th' whore an' pretty boy'll sing like a bird.”
”Aye. He's probably beddin' her. We'll do her over, first, an' if they aren't singing by morning, you can add lover boy's cock to your little bird collection.”
”Shall I head to Bree to find our friend?” said another voice.
”Let's see what information we can get out of Sweetie, first. Best we're not on the road again until full dark, anyway”, said the redshirt.
”When ya do he's go' some 'splainin' ta do!” the dark-haired woman crowed, getting up. Who were they talking about? Not Colewulf, surely…
”The bitch is back”, Tara whispered.
The dark-haired woman had appeared in front of the cage and was dragging her dagger over the bars back and forth, laughing nastily. ”Hope yer no' asleeeeep in there...”
”Knock knock, little birds. Singing in a cage”, echoed the redshirt’s voice. There was a grating sound as a key was turned in a lock and then the rusty door swang open.
”C'mon Sweetie”, he said. ”Time to continue our conversation...”
The woman was jigging up and down, elated and jittery over what was going to happen next.
”You are nuts, woman!” Hellrien snapped. ”Crazy as a rat in a shithouse!”
”Well yer sittin' in our shithouse... so make like a rat shits!”
”I don't think she wants to play nice...” the redshirt grinned. ”Bring her!”
The woman grabbed Hellrien by the hair and dragged her out of the cart, giving Tara a smug look.
”Don't go anywhere, lover boy”, the redshirt said before slamming and relocking the cage door.
”Have fun, lass”, Tara whispered dryly.
”Let go of me you... dogs!” Hellrien howled as they dragged her along towards the main building. The woman barked like a mad dog.
”Where'd ya manners?”
The dark-haired woman dragged Hellrien over to a barrel of water next to the house and dunk her head in for a few moments before dragging her over to a pillar that sported iron manacles.
”We'll play with barrels next”, said the redshirt, ”unless you want to save that game for Ugly back in the cage.”
The woman slammed Hellrien against the pillar and shackled her, thumping her in the stomach and knutting her in the face once she was bound.
”She can do that all night”, the redshirt promised. ”So: Where. Are. Our. Weapons?”
”There... are... no... weapons...”
The woman backhanded Hellrien. ”Liar”, she growled.
”Wrong answer”, said the man, nodding at the woman. She pulled out her still blood-covered mace and and whacked it against the front of Hellrien’s thighs. Hellrien screamed – hoarsely and desperately. The man flicked her earlobe with the tip of his blade.
”You'd be surprised how much of your body you don't need to keep on living...” he said. ”Shall I show you? .... Where. Are. Our. Weapons?!”
Hellrien spat, closing her eyes so they wouldn’t see her fear of death in them. ”The weapons are in your arsehole. You get it? We hid ’em in there a couple of nights back. We hid ’em in your ass.”
”Ooo, a challenge”, said the man. ”We like a challenge...”
The dark-haired woman punched Hellrien forcefully in her stomach with her mace. She could see it coming and managed to tense her muscles, but only partially. She threw up on her shirt.
”Owwwww you bastards! Bastards!”
”Cunt!” the woman growled, stepping back. ”Cut a piece off her ... I'll not eat it this time ... I'll gi' it ter pretty boy! Eh pretty boy ... which bitta fancy hat shall I carve ya?”
”Enough foreplay, Sweetie”, said the man. ”I think it’s time for my blades…”
He pulled out one of his daggers and slowly slid it down one side of Hellrien's head, cutting off a lank of hair. The dagger was very sharp. ”And we'll stop whenever you say where the weapons are”, he promised. ”Maybe.”
”Oi that sly motherfucker!” came a sudden cry from the wagons. ”Oi I've found somethin!”
”Whazzat?” demanded the redshirt, dagger still pressed against Hellrien’s cheek.
”Oi here's the rest!” Fine swords were being tossed out of the wagon.
”Coley Woley we found yer holey”, the woman rejoiced.
”Fuck!” spat the man, scowling at Hellrien. ”Here, you two”, he called to two brigands nearby. ”Un-shackle this useless bag of meat and toss her back into the cage. We'll decide what to do with them in the morning.”
Hellrien could barely stay upright as the brigands walked her over to the cage. She was blinking tears and trash from her eyes that were almost bloated shut.
”Sounded like fun”, said Tara as Hellrien was thrown inside. ”Glad I missed it.”
A celebration started outside the cage. Ale barrels were opened and there was much hooting and rejoicing. Hellrien’s vision was swimming with stars and her ears were humming, but she could still hear voices speaking.
”Yer reckon we should cut Cole’s cock off fer this?”
”The asshole could have said there'd be false bottoms. Bah. Probably told one of those guards that your caged lover boy slew.”
”Aye well I'll make sure he pays fer tha' once he's satisfied me. Reckon that little delay should cost Cole. We'll send fancy hats head wi' the hat nailed onta it ter let him know we dun like bein' screwed around…”
”You can do what you want with 'em. We got our weapons, that's what counts. But can't have those two runnin' off and carrying tales... or leadin' folk back here!”
”Oh they ain' goin' anywhere...”
”Well guess what”, somebody whispered in Hellrien’s ear. Something snapped the cord in her wrists and suddenly her hands were free!
”Right”, Tara whispered again. ”Sit like yer still trussed up.”
Hellrien nodded. She could barely do anything but sit tight, she had lost too much blood. The celebration in the yard continued, she had lost track of time listening to it. At some point she must have passed out.
”Get those inside”, the redshirt’s voice woke Hellrien up. ”An’ dump those bodies in the usual place, before they start to stink. If anyone needs me later... bugger off.”
”Looks like they’re heading off to sleep”, Hellrien spluttered, unsure if anyone could hear her. She was aching all over.
”Ye ain't in any condition t' be fightin'”, said Tara’s voice nearby.
”Peeerrriiitttyyyy boooy”, cooed the sound of the dark-hair woman, suddenly very near. She sounded very drunk as she slumped against the bars.
”Crazy bitch”, Tara mocked. ”Here fer me glorious cock.”
The dark-haired woman hiccuped and slowly slid the bolt out of the door. She looked inside the cart with bleary eyes, belched and started to clamber inside on all fours, eyes fixed on the object of her lust.
”I think she likes you…” Hellrien couldn’t help but say. The woman kicked her.
”Shut the fuck up... an' watch yer migh' learn sommit afore we send ya 'ead ter Cole.” A little later she continued: ”Show m' wha' yer got then or are ya all bluster?”
”Yer gonna 'ave t' come closer an' get it out yerself”, came Taraborn’s response. ”Me 'ands are tied.”
Hellrien could hear as the woman crawled closer to Tara, making smacking sounds.
”Yer forged this fucking buckle t'gether…”
Then there was a gurgling sound, a cough and a croak. The woman raised her hand to her throat and slumped forward, face down to Tara’s crotch. Wincing in disgust he shover her aside – Hellrien saw that he had been painted red with her blood. The woman gurgled again, twitched a couple of times and bled out. Tara shuffled over to the still unlocked cage door, peering outside. After a moment he slid outside.
”Lass”, he whispered to Hellrien, ”stay 'ere till I come back. Stay quiet, I won't be long.”
With that he disappeared into the night, moving along the hedge and keeping low, crawling when necessary. A lone sentry was leaning against a gate. She looked bored and was humming an old children’s lullaby to herself. She was squeezing something in her hand – a small, well-worn doll’s head carved out of walnut wood – while she gazed uphill, lost in thought. The thought was cut abruptly along with her throat by Tara’s blade. She was dead before she knew it, her last thought flickering out towards the baby girl she had left behind – driven by famine to join this lawless band for a time, in an attempt to get enough coin for food and clothing for her baby.
Tara took the sword the woman had been holding in her other hand and turned to face the camp, holding his dagger and the new-found sword. Hellrien watched from her cage as he sneaked to the other side of the camp, taking cover in bushes and crawling the last distance to bring himself beneath a hammock where one brigand had passed into. A moment later the man was dead without making a sound. Tara took a moment to study the guards by the fire and the cart, using his position under the hammock as a cover. There were three brigands by the fire, laughing at something. Two of them were about to return to the cart, but before they did, one of them offered a piece of meat to the one who was going to stay outside in watch duty. He thanked the others and tipped back his head as he guzzled down his remaining ale. All of them clambered up to their feet.
Taraborn sneaked over to a pile of junk where he had spotted one of Hellrien’s swords. He grabbed it up and began crawling back the way he came, continuing to use the bushes as cover. Suddenly the patrolling brigand turned, scanning the enclosure with fire-dazzled eyes. His eyes swept over the shadows where Tara lurked, but apparently didn’t spot him. He turned and began to circuit around the perimeter. Taraborn watched as the guard moved past his hiding place towards the corpse of the sentry. As soon as Tara was out of his sight he moved swiftly from behind the bushes and sneaked up behind the man to slit his throat with a dagger, catching the limp body so it made no sound hitting the ground.
He sneaked back to the cage, peering at Hellrien through the bars.
”Right”, he whispered, ”it’s time to move, come on.”
Tara reached his hand to help her down. Forgetting her pain and exhaustion, Hellrien mustered her strength and clambered down. It was Cole, her thoughts raced in her mind. Cole set us up, he was behind the whole thing. Cole betrayed us…
”Ye may want this”, Tara interrupted her racing mind and handed her sword over. Hellrien’s half-blind eyes blinked at the sight, then she nodded and sheathed the blade.
”Can ye walk?”
Hellrien nodded – she couldn’t talk, but she could walk. Just a little more, she had to survive so she could avenge…
”We’re going that way”, said Tara, pointing at the entrance in east. ”If we get split up, we meet back at Stock, aye?”
Hellrien just stared at him blankly. Her vision was getting cloudy, she could barely hear what he was saying.
”For fuck’s sake”, Tara whispered to himself, glancing back at the cart and the two guards in the yard. ”C’mon lass, let’s go.”
Tara half dragged, half carried Hellrien out of the farm, moving only in short bursts. After every few yards he would stop and look back at the guards by the cart. He continued pulling Hellrien out of the farm, each step a little reluctant at the thought of having to leave his precious sword behind.
