ROAD TO CORDIA Read online

  There were no beds, no blankets. People just curled up on the stone floor wherever they could find room, and slept. The only light was from a single torch in the hallway. Ja'Nil made her way over to the securely locked door. The iron bars of the cage were too close together for even someone as thin as Ja'Nil to slip through. Grasping a bar in each hand, Ja'Nil closed her eyes and concentrated. In her mind, she saw the bars slowly moving away from each other. Wider and wider. Just a little more now, and she would be able to slip through. Her hands were painful claws locked around the moving iron. Sweat poured down her forehead and across her tightly closed eyes.

  Had she done it? She opened her eyes slowly. Drops of sweat poured into her open eyes, stinging, making everything a blur. She wiped at them with the sleeve of her worn tunic.

  Nothing had changed! The bars hadn’t moved an inch. With a half sob, half laugh, Ja'Nil flexed her aching hands. Her “gift” was no more than the imagination of a fond father reading too much into a string of coincidences. There was no way out.

  Ja'Nil sank down to the floor and closed her eyes. This really was going to be her last night on earth.

  * * *

  Something was pinching her. She opened her eyes and found herself looking into the reddened, mad looking eyes of a wild haired, smelly, fellow prisoner. “Gimme ya boots,” said the woman.

  “My boots?”

  The woman produced a very sharp looking homemade knife and pushed the point against Ja'Nil’s side. “Gimme ‘em.”

  “My boots?”

  “Is ya deaf? Is ya dumb? Shall Iss take ‘em offen ya dead body?”

  Ja'Nil started to laugh.

  “Shut the noise. Is ya crazy? Do ya wants the guards?”

  “You want my boots?”

  “I’s ain’t got none,” explained the woman, as if that made her behavior perfectly acceptable.

  “I’ll trade you,” said Ja'Nil.

  “I ain’t gots nothing for to trade.”

  “I’ll give you my boots, you give me that knife,” said Ja'Nil.

  “Whats ya wants with my knife?”

  “What do you want with my boots?”

  The woman looked at Ja'Nil as if she were the crazy one. She raised her right foot to show Ja'Nil its cracked and bleeding sole. “I needs boots,” she said. “I ain’ts got none.”

  “I need a knife.” Ja'Nil looked straight into the crazy woman’s mad eyes. “Do we have a deal?”

  “Yeah,” said the woman.

  “Give me the knife,” said Ja'Nil, “Handle first.”

  Amazingly, she actually handed over the knife. Ja'Nil took off her boots and gave them to the woman, who grabbed them and scooted away into the darkness, leaving Ja'Nil barefoot, but more or less armed.

  As a knife, it was pretty pathetic, just a sharpened stone wired onto a thin wooden handle. Still, she clutched it tightly. Maybe it wasn’t much when compared to the well-armed soldiers of Lord No’Sila, but it was better than going quietly to slaughter. Now, all she had to do was wait for dawn and pray. Incredibly, she fell asleep.

  * * *

  She was awakened by the guards banging on the bars with iron cudgels and yelling at the prisoners to wake up. The cage door was opened and the prisoners filed out as their names were called. Ja'Nil clutched her knife and waited.

  “Ja’Nii,” called the guard. No one stepped forward. “Which a ya is Ja’Nii?” No answer.

  Was he calling her? Ja'Nil could feel sweat trickling down her back and seeping under the waistband of her leggings. The guard was growing irritated.

  “She’s a new one,” said another guard, “come in last night or the night before.”

  Several of the prisoners looked at Ja'Nil. One of them pointed to her and said, “She’s new.”

  The guard grabbed Ja'Nil and pulled her through the door. “You Ja’Nii?” he asked.

  They couldn’t even get her name right, she thought bitterly, but she nodded, “yes.”

  “Well, speak up when I calls ya.” He consulted a paper in his hand. “Says here ya gots two years hard labor for trespassing.”

  Two years hard labor? Ja'Nil knees almost buckled with relief. Her prayers had been answered. She would have much preferred being ordered off Red Horse lands, but a condemned prisoner couldn’t be choosey. Why had Lord No’Sila changed his mind? Maybe, O’Keeven had regretted his lies and told the truth.

  I knew O‘Keeven was really a good person!

  It didn’t matter why. She was going to live! And best of all, she wouldn’t have to do anything dishonorable, because to save her life she had been ready to do anything, even sell her soul to the High King of the Seven Hells.

  One of the guards pushed her into a line of prisoners that was moving slowly down the dank corridor. Light hearted with relief, Ja'Nil’s thoughts turned to practical matters. Would they be fed before they were put to work? “Ja'Nil,” called a voice behind her. Still moving, she turned to see who was calling her. It was the guard standing in the door of the cage. Now what? Ja'Nil thought, as he bellowed her name again.

  She stopped, causing the prisoner behind her to bump into her.

  “Keep moving,” he snarled. “If we‘re late, all the food will be gone.”

  “No talking on the line,” shouted a guard.

  “Come here, you,” ordered the guard who was still at the cage door. He grabbed a wretched looking creature by the arm and hauled her out. “You Ja'Nil?” he asked.

  The wretched looking creature, who seemed to be half-deaf, looked at the guard and smiled with childish glee. “What ya say, fella? Huh, what ya say?”

  “You Ja'Nil?”

  “Yeah, yeah, JiJi, they calls me.” She was obviously enjoying their conversation.

  Oh, God of the Circle, thought Ja'Nil, as she was being herded out with the other prisoners. What should I do? She slowed and then started to leave the line and go back.

  “Keep moving,” said the guard, giving her a vicious smack on the side of her head. “I’ve gots me eye on ya,” he said to Ja'Nil. “Try anything and ya’ll get the whip.”

  Ja'Nil stared blindly at him. It’s not my fault, she thought. They’re the ones who made the mistake, not me. I don’t want to die.

  But the other woman’s a half-wit, said the voice in her head. She can’t protect herself.

  Neither can I! she cried silently to that damn voice that wouldn’t let her off the hook. It never cut her any slack; it was always after her to do the right thing.

  “There’s been a mistake,” she heard her voice saying to the guard.

  The guard turned and gave her a tremendous shove. She landed face down onto the stone floor. As soon as she was down, she felt a slash of pure flame across her back, then a second one. He was whipping her. She screamed.

  “Ya wants more?” he said.

  Ja'Nil pushed herself to her knees, turning her head just in time to see the half-witted woman skip down the hallway alongside a guard. “They calls me Ji’Ji. They calls me Ji’Ji.” Chanted the doomed woman. She was smiling.

  “Wait,” called Ja'Nil but her voice was just a whisper. Still on her knees, Ja'Nil watched as Ji’Ji and her guard disappeared from view.

  “Ya don’t wants more, then gets to ya feets and keeps in line,” said the guard who was standing over Ja'Nil with a whip in his hand. Ja'Nil shuddered and stood up. The back of her tunic was ripped where he had whipped her, and blood seeped out. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered; she had just sold her soul to the High King of the Seven Hells. Obediently, she stepped back in line and exited the jail with the others.

  CHAPTER 11

  They put her to work in the fields. Watching over her were armed guards, who made her old nemeses, Rog and Sildy, seem like guardian angels. Water was carried out to the sweating workers by a trustee who insisted he be called, “sir.” He rationed out the life giving fluid by the half cupful.

  Ja'Nil scarcely noticed. On the one hand she was tormented by the thoughts of Ji’Ji being executed in her plac
e; on the other hand, she was terrified that Lord No’Sila’s Archers of Justice would discover the mistake and come looking for her. Even if she wanted them to, and she didn’t, no one would listen to her. They would just use that damn whip again.

  At the thought of the whip, her back started aching again. The sweat running down her body stung the open wound.

  * * *

  A guard on horseback was coming towards her. Hastily Ja'Nil returned to hacking at the weeds. The guard stopped a few feet from her. Ja'Nil worked even harder, not daring to look up. Instinctively, she knew eye contact would be considered the greatest disrespect and severely punished.

  Finally, the guard moved away. Ja'Nil kept her head down and continued working, afraid to slacken. With her peripheral vision, she saw movement. Maybe it was the trustee with water.

  She turned her head then screamed in terror. At least, she wanted to scream in terror. Unfortunately her vocal cords, along with the rest of her body, were frozen. Facing her, not ten feet away, was the biggest, ugliest, meanest, most vicious looking wolf Ja'Nil had ever seen or had ever even heard of.

  He was golden in color, his pelt rough and ungroomed, and his eyes a burning yellow. He snarled viciously and saliva dripped from his mouth.

  Ja'Nil knew she was about to die. The breath whistled out of her lungs as though a mailed fist had hit her in the stomach. She bent over, her hands knotted into fists, clutching her stomach, unable to catch her breath. It was a toss-up between dying of asphyxiation and being ripped to death by those huge teeth. Finally, blessed air rushed into her lungs. She began to babble prayers. The wolf cocked his head as though trying to decide whether to grant her pleas. She scrunched her eyes shut, when she opened them the wolf was gone.

  Straightening slowly, she looked around. She saw prisoners working. She saw cold-eyed guards on horseback. The stingy trusty called “Sir” was busy refusing to refill a cup of water for a thirsty prisoner. What she didn’t see was the wolf. Ja'Nil scanned the fields. No wolf. Did she imagine it?

  Far off, she saw a bare-chested young man, golden in the sunlight. He was moving steadily away from her. Obviously not a prisoner. She envied his freedom.

  * * *

  They worked until it was too dark to differentiate the weeds from plants. Then, both men and women were herded into a huge slave pen.

  Bowls of slop were ladled out. It smelled so bad that Ja'Nil didn’t even protest when someone stole hers. No doubt, the day would come when she was hungry enough to eat the nauseating stuff, but not tonight. Anyway, she was exhausted. She curled up on the floor and fell asleep instantly, too tired to even dream, but apparently not too tired for a nightmare.

  Something was crushing her, tearing at her clothes, slobbering over her, hurting her. In her dream, she tried to scream, but something wet and smelly was pushed into her mouth. She woke to find a man, one of the guards, lying on her, pulling at her leggings, pushing his tongue into her mouth.

  Ick! She bit down, hard.

  He yelled and reared back, blood dripping from his mouth. “Little bitch,” he said, and hit her on the side of her head with his fist. Her eyes crossed and the face of her attacker blurred. He hit her again, on the other side of her face, but this time with an open hand. “Give it up, bitch.” His voice seemed to come from a long distance away, sounding like the grunts of a feral pig. He ripped at her poor holey tunic. She couldn’t afford to have her tunic torn more than it already was. It was all she had to wear.

  “Don’t,” she said. He continued to rip at her.

  She twisted under him, trying to get away. Turning her head away from his disgusting mouth, she could see the other prisoners lying with their backs to her. Could they really be sleeping with all the noise she and the guard were making? “Help me,” she begged. One of the sleeping figures hunched into a tighter ball, but none of them turned around to see what was going on.

  For a moment, the guard shifted his weight off her to do something to his leggings. Ja'Nil took the opportunity and kicked upward at him. She connected. He grunted and grabbed himself where she had kicked him. Ja'Nil scrambled to her feet and turned to run. The guard, still clutching at himself with one hand, grabbed her tunic with his other hand. Instead of falling, Ja'Nil twisted around and kicked out again. Her bare foot hit the guard just under the chin.

  Ow!

  Her foot felt broken. The man grunted, but managed to grab her ankle and yank it. As she fell Ja’Nil kicked out again. This time, her foot caught him in the throat. He let go of her foot and put both hands to his throat. Ja'Nil was up in a flash, the knife in her hand. She swiped at him. A line of bright blood appeared across his face. He screamed. She staggered away, bumping into sleeping figures, being cursed, and swatted at. She lost her balance and staggered against the iron bars of the pen. The bars moved!

  She did have a gift! Or in his haste to get to her, the guard had left the door of the slave pen unlocked. She pushed at it with all her might and it swung creakily open. Behind her, she could hear the guard crashing after her, cursing and kicking out at the sleeping prisoners. At least she hadn’t killed him.

  Ja'Nil was outside now, but it was a moonless night. She had no idea which direction led to safety. Arms out stretched, she started running and immediately smacked into a wall. She bounced off it, bumping into the pursuing guard. “Gots ya,” he grunted. His voice slimy wet with satisfaction.

  Ja'Nil almost gave up. The guard’s hands, rough like rusted iron, were rubbing her arms raw as he whispered in her ear. “Afters I prongs ya, I gonna wrings ya scrawny neck.”

  Oh, wonderful, she thought with hysterical humor, not only was the man about to prong her, whatever that was, he was also insulting her scrawny body. On top of that, he was going to kill her.

  As he dragged her off, she stumbled and started to fall. He yanked at her impatiently. She let her body sag until she was lying on the hard, cold ground.

  “Gets up,” he said, then added for good measure. “I’ll makes ya dig ya own grave, I will.” He yanked at her, making Ja'Nil come up so suddenly that her head smashed into his chest, right over his heart. He made a gagging sound, dropped her arm, and staggered back. Ja'Nil whirled around and kicked out at him in perfect imitation of the men she had watched on the village green back home. She aimed for the heart and her aim was true. To her amazement, he dropped to his knees making strange croaking sounds.

  Ja'Nil didn’t wait around; she turned and ran into the darkness. All she could hear was the beating of her own heart, the pulsing of blood pounding in her ears. Gradually she became aware that something was running after her. Running faster than she was. It was about to catch her. Suddenly the night was alive with sounds again. Men were shouting. Her own breath was rasping in her throat, but most of all, something was running, running, faster and faster behind her. Something was panting, whining with eagerness. Something was about to--

  She was hit from behind. Right between the shoulder blades. Had someone thrown a lance into her back? Was she about to die as the man from the sailmakers’ clan had died?

  She was running so fast that whatever hit her made her stagger, but did not knock her down. There was a vicious growl. It’s the wolf! The wolf would tear out her throat, kill her like a defenseless sheep. Sharp teeth closed around her right forearm, clamping down with incredible pressure. Still staggering forward, she turned her head to see a large mastiff, glaring red-eyed with deadly intent as his jaws ground deeper into her arm. She raised her left arm and punched him in the nose. He made a pitiful whining sound and loosened his grip, but he did not let go. Any minute, she expected her arm to break. Would she even feel it when it did? Already it was numb. He was pulling at her now, trying to drag her to the earth. She hit him again and again in the nose. If he got her down, she was dead. Then she was going down. Falling. She braced herself, but instead of the shock of hitting the earth, she continued to fall.

  The mastiff fell with her. Had they gone over a cliff? How many ways could a person die? Unb
elievably the dog still had her arm between his teeth. They were going to die together. She opened her mouth to yell, but never got the chance. They hit the water and went under. It was so shockingly sudden that all her muscles contracted. Her lungs were too frozen to function. The powerful current swept her under. She was going to drown. After all this time, after doing everything she could to avoid deadly waters, she was going to drown. It was almost a relief to accept her fate.

  She was just another piece of flotsam. Every once in a while, the river would toss her up into the night air. But mostly she was carried along, tossed and turned, bumped and bumping under water. Somewhere along the way, she and the mastiff parted company. Whether or not she still had her arm was uncertain, her whole body was too numb to feel anything as minor as an amputated arm. After a while, she realized she was no longer cold. She was still being pulled under, and then tossed up into the air, but her pain had vanished. A feeling of soft luxury filled her body. Dying wasn’t so bad after all.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement. It was her mother, smiling at her. Her smile was so loving. Ja'Nil badly needed to be loved. And there was her father! He grinned at her and winked. Was it all right for her to join them? Did they forgive her?

  To give up, to relax into death’s grip, to join her family, was that so wrong? Her parents, smiling gently at her, waved good-bye.

  Good-bye? ‘No, wait,’ she wanted to yell. ‘I’m coming with you. Wait for me.’

  She tried to swim to their undulating forms. She was getting closer. In a moment, she would be able to touch them. In a moment-- Crash!

  * * *

  Crash. Crash! Bitter cold. Soaked to the bone, with the wind driving the waves higher and higher, tearing her father’s fishing boat to pieces. Ja’Nil inches her way towards her father, who is trapped under the fallen mast. Yonny screams. She turns in time to see the dingy being flung out over the rail of the ship, and then slammed back onto the deck. Now it is nothing more than splinters. Thank the Lord, Yonny had disobeyed her and crawled out of the destroyed dingy. Ja'Nil reaches her father, but he is dead. His eyes wide, staring into eternity. Automatically, Ja'Nil says the prayer for the dead, “May you enter the paradise of forever,” and makes the sign of the circle on her father’s forehead. . Now, it is just she and Yonny. If only this were just some horrible dream.