XXIII

“Move!” the man shouted, and then he shoved Yoreno with such force, his inner core flared up with pain.

Had he cracked bones in the battle?

Grunting and breathing heavily for a moment to catch his breath, he almost felt like something was lodged inside his chest. He staggered forward.

But that was impossible, as he glanced down he noted his body wasn’t bleeding and his armor was undamaged. “Where—where are you taking us?”

“No talking!”

He was shoved forward again.

Yoreno was in the lead since he had been farthest from the group near the trail leading down the mountain. They had rolled him to his stomach, bound his wrists and then forcibly lifted him to his feet. They marched him roughly down the trail, seemingly unconcerned about the spider.

He turned to get a look at the others. There was Sorika and Mai, but Dorrin, Dell and Lev weren’t visible behind the bend of rocks.

“Eyes forward, prisoner!”

The guard punched him in the side where he had no armor plating. Yoreno doubled over for a minute in a heavy grunt. The pain flared there, but it wasn’t as bad as if he had been punched in the stomach without armor.

Turning, he marched on.

Ahead of him were dozens of warriors, all wearing curved swords on their hips. Many of them grasped spears with toothy points. Some of the leather-armored warriors stood up above the trail on the rocks, their baggy trousers, tied down tightly over their calves fluttering in the breeze.

So far he had caught glimpsed of the demihumans, but none up close. This looked like an organized force. The demihumans were like nothing he had ever seen. They were tall, lithe and wore red-painted armor with sloppy yellow slashes. Most of these carried short swords or javelins. Their eyes were large, yellow and slit crossways. The teeth in their mouths looked suitable for shredding wood and bone.

Almost monsters, he thought, trying not to keep eye contact with any of these warriors, human or demihuman alike, lest they beat him again.

Sorika was too far behind for Yoreno to call out to her, and even had she been next in line in the long procession, if he said anything to her, they would hit him again.

After some time, Yoreno and his captors reached the bottom of the mountain where he was marched to a more level area. He glanced about, wondering after the spider again that had attacked them.

But there had been no sign of it.

Perhaps it was too frightened to attack when so many warriors with weapons were about—not that the monster was a higher thinking creature.

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At least, Yoreno hoped not. The very thought of a sentient spider was horrifying.

He was distracted from his whirling thoughts when he saw one of the demihumans standing ahead of him. In the warrior’s hand was a tall staff of metal, at the top a white jewel in the shape of an egg.

Around the mage’s neck was a heavy chain incrusted with rubies the size of an infant’s fist. Why had that mage not been in the battle?

Perhaps Yoreno simply hadn’t spotted the mage, he thought. A good magicker would stay out of reach of the fighting where he could direct magic in relative safety.

Behind the sorcerer even more warriors were milling about some wagons. A short lumbering beast cried out in a deep ponderous call. They were hitched to the wagons and had skin that looked like black armor and triple horns on their beak-like snouts.

One of the human warriors unlocked the wagon and opened the door. Yoreno was then shoved toward the opening.

He moved slowly, glancing back and around. He could see Dell, Lev, Mai and Dorrin together with Sorika up near the front.

“In!”

Yoreno looked at the guard and almost spit at his feet.

How had this happened?

They had been ambushed, defeated in battle, and now they were being marched into prison wagons where they would no doubt be transported to dank dungeons or chained and used as slaves.

The guard responsible for putting Yoreno in the wagon snarled. Yoreno couldn’t see his face, but by the sounds he made under his black rags, he knew he wasn’t going to get many more warnings.

“Now!”

Yoreno turned to enter the wagon, but it was a faint. Instead he whirled around and head butted the guard in the face. He cried out and fell backward. As he squirmed, Yoreno stepped forward and kicked him in the ribs.

Suddenly he went to the ground as another guard lunged atop him, slamming Yoreno into the dry dusty dirt. He cried out as his chest flared with pain.

Then he received a good kicking, every boot s,acking him where he had no armor, mainly his thighs, the sides of his torso, and his head, but when the boots came in to kick him in the face, Yoreno lifted his arms to block the blows. Still, the pummeling was fierce.

Through the punishment, Yoreno heard the cries of the others, demanding that he be left alone.

“Stop!”

“Leave him alone, you savages!”

“Barbarian! You’ll pay for this!”

With aches and pains throughout his body, Yoreno was lifted up by two men and thrown into the cage where he landed heavily and grunted. He felt like he had been trampled by a horse.

He coughed hoarsely.

The pain in his chest and body was so intense, for a moment, he couldn’t move as he winced sharply,

But he could still think.

And attacking that guard had been stupid, he thought. Yoreno needed to stay fit, healthy, his bones intact. But his anger got the better of him.

A rare thing.

The best course of action would be to remain as meek as possible to lull the guards into a sense of complacency. Of course, after the battle and the number the Emblazoned Party had slain, that wasn’t likely to happen.

A flash of light lit the sky, followed by a sharp crack that travelled overhead, then fell to a distant rumble. Heavy raindrops began to fall, tapping Yoreno in the forehead.

“Yor, you all right?!”

It was Sorika

“Silence!”

“Agh!” she cried.

“I said in!”

Yoreno tried to move, tried to glance back and threaten the guard, but it was no use. He was done as far as fighting and even simply being active for that matter.

Sorika climbed into the back of the wagon without any further protest. “Yoreno…” She whispered his name and touched his shoulder.

“Yoreno!” she hissed quietly.

He didn’t want to turn or say anything right now. He was in too much pain, and mashing his forehead against the planks in the back of the wagon was giving him some distraction against the pain.

“Yoreno,” Sorika continued. “Are you all right?”

Without saying anything, he mumbled an answer.

“Holdfast,” she said. “We will find a way to get free.”