Kaia removed her left glove to expose the mark of the Sixth Caste.

"Good evening, men," she called. Her clear, strong voice carried easily to the drivers of the carriage, one of whom was heavy-set and the other as lean as dried jerky. They waved in greeting before her raised palm brought them to an abrupt halt.

"On behalf of the Crimson Blade, I must commandeer your carriage," she said. "In service of kingdom affairs of the utmost importance."

Adrian's instincts prickled when he looked more closely at the drivers. They were disheveled and poorly groomed, as if they'd been traveling for weeks--if not months--straight. If they truly were royal guards, they were shoddily-maintained ones.

Kaia must have made the same observation. Her eyes narrowed. "Who is your captain? And what is your current assignment?"

The lean one spoke. "Deepest apologies, Siress, but my brother and I have never been intercepted by an esteemed knight of the Crimson Blade. If you'll allow me, all of the appropriate papers are in the carriage."

"They should be carried on your person, sir. Always."

He bowed his head. "Indeed. An unfortunate lapse of complacency, Siress." He indicated behind him. "May I?"

"I'll allow it."

The man disembarked and rounded the carriage toward the back entrance. His brother remained in place, watching them intently with bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes.

She turned to Adrian. "Dismount and help me with--"

Something small and hard whistled through the air and collided with her shoulder, which would have cracked her head open had she not ducked and twisted at the last second. She tumbled from her horse and swiftly rolled to her feet, sword drawn within the same movement.

Nightwind whinnied and retreated a few paces, pulling the lead taut against Kaia's horse. Her eyes flashed to them in momentary alarm, but Cedric and Adrian wouldn't flee, not until the former was cured. Kaia turned back to her opponents.

The heavier brother cursed. "Blast it, Rasher, you always aim low!" He hopped down from the head of the carriage with a weighty thump.

"Shut up, Trig," Rasher snapped, his eyes unwavering from Kaia. He was swinging something weighted in a tight arc, the same weapon that'd unseated her. With his other hand, he tossed a coil of rope to Trig. They were now circling her on opposite sides, preventing her from watching both.

"Attacking a Crimson Blade is high treason," Kaia said, teeth bared.

"That mark on your palm is your only proof, sweetheart. Nothing a little burn can't fix," Rasher said. "When you're chained up in some fat merchant's bathhouse, who'd believe you?"

"We've got to help her," Adrian whispered.

"Are you mad?" Cedric hissed back.

"Rather her than slavers."

Adrian saw the truth dawn on him, accompanied by a ripple of fear. "No," he said after a moment. "I can't move, and you'd merely get yourself hurt."

They could only watch, and for once pray for Kaia's victory.

Rasher released his projectile. She turned to deflect it with a flick of her sword. Trig took advantage of the diversion and tossed out a loop of rope that cinched tight around her left wrist. He pulled hard and sent her staggering, though she kept her feet.

Rasher scurried toward her before she could regain her balance, but a lightning-fast kick into his lower stomach sent him careening back with a breathless wheeze. Again, Trig exploited her distraction and wrapped the rope around her neck, simultaneously securing her captured wrist.

He tied her other arm behind her as she gasped for breath and was forced to her knees.

Rasher stumbled upright, clutching his stomach. He was panting and ashen-faced. His thinning hair hung in bedraggled strands down his forehead.

"This one's fierce," chuckled Trig. He buried a broad nose into her hair and inhaled with relish. Kaia didn't recoil, but fiery murder blazed in her eyes. "Not too shabby in the face, either, eh?"

Rasher was still finding his breath, and Trig smirked. "Little miss ring your bell too hard?"

He glared at his brother. "Get her locked down inside."

Trig's smirk deepened and he pulled Kaia roughly to her feet, his grip on the choking rope ensuring that she'd be too occupied with breathing to properly resist.

Rasher approached them and took Nightwind's reins. "Now lads, why don't we make this easy on all of us? You don't kick up a fuss, you don't get hurt."

Fear thundered like a storm in Adrian's ears. Poor old Kiran's mutilated face swam before him. "My friend is tied down," he managed to say.

Rasher crossed over to their right and inspected the knot at Cedric's ankle. He gave a low whistle. "Goddess, is that a spider knot?" He pulled his knife and attempted to cut through the Widow's Vine with no success. He cursed and began to work at it with his fingers, an endeavor which also failed.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"What the blazes?" Rasher muttered. He called to Trig, who was now inside the carriage securing Kaia. "Oi, how'd you undo this bloody rope?"

There was a brief pause. Then, the sound of a full-handed blow that rocked the carriage on its axles.

"A fancy knife in her saddlebags," Trig called back. "Black blade, ivory handle."

Rasher found it, pulled the knife from its leather sheath, and sliced apart the rope at Cedric's ankle as easily as a spiderweb.

What Cedric did next, neither Rasher nor Adrian anticipated; he raised his freed leg and kicked Rasher square in the back. He flew forward five paces before landing in the dirt for the second time in as many minutes.

"Kaia's as good as gone," Cedric spat with sudden, startling ferocity. "Antidote or not, we won't be taken."

Adrian shut his gaping mouth and reached forward to help him free his hands.

"Trig! Get out here!" Rasher gasped as he struggled to his feet.

His brother scrambled out of the carriage, the looped rope coiled in his hands. It flew out and cinched around Cedric's throat just as the Widow's Vine came free. He was yanked from Nightwind and landed with a hard, bone-bruising thump. Trig began to pull him along the ground, one arm's length of rope at a time.

"Cedric!" Adrian cried, leaping down and barely missing a grasp at his scrabbling leg.

A strong, wiry arm caught his throat in a chokehold from behind. He fought and twisted hard, but he too was soon helplessly gasping for air.

Rasher's stale breath pooled in his ear. "You shouldn't have kicked up a fuss."

*

The carriage was hot and dark. High horizontal slits along the sides served as narrow windows. A slab of iron ran down the central length of the transport's wooden floor, to which ten consecutive pairs of shackles were bolted.

Kaia was secured near the back of the carriage. The length of the chain allowed her to lean against the wall while sitting, bound hands resting on raised knees. The left side of her face was swollen, though the bruise was yet to develop, and a dark line of blood crusted down from her nose. She'd been stripped of her belt and weapons.

Cedric barely struggled as the heavy iron enclosed his own wrists; the last reserves of his strength were now depleted. Adrian was forced down across from him and also restrained. His eyes were wide with naked fear.

"What a haul, eh?" Trig whooped. He bent down to leer at Kaia, then Adrian. "Young, healthy..."

"Two of 'em, at least," Rasher said. His chin had been scraped bloody from his most recent collision with the ground. He crouched in front of Cedric, peered closely at his face, then grabbed his jaw in a rough grip. "This one's nearly gone. Shame. Could've fetched ten blazies, easy."

Cedric mustered up a little energy and spat squarely into Rasher's bloodshot eyes. The slaver recoiled with a curse.

But after he wiped his face, there was no trace of anger in his expression. Trig, who wore a knowing smirk, tossed him something dark and coiled. Rasher caught it by the handle and let it unspool onto the floor.

Thanks to the Goddess' visions, Cedric recognized what it was with a chilling surge of foreboding.

"Seems manners need to be taught, eh, brother?" Rasher said.

"Sure do," Trig said.

Rasher bent toward Cedric, though outside of spitting range this time. "You will address me as master, and never indulge in such childish antics again. Understood?"

Cedric glared up at him and set his jaw. He would not be cowed, not like before. He would not go limp and helpless. He would not submit, no matter the consequences. Cedric braced himself.

Rasher raised the whip and brought it down with fearsome speed. It cracked like a thunderclap within the confined space.

Adrian screamed in pain.

"No!" Cedric cried out.

Adrian had been struck in the stomach, and he was doubled over in agony. The next lash cracked across his back. He screamed again.

"Stop! Stop it!"

Cold fire burned in Rasher's eyes, madness and ecstasy combined. His chapped mouth curled into a sneer. "You don't give commands, slave." He swung the whip again, and Adrian buckled under the lashing with another howl. "Now face the consequences!" Another swing, then another, faster, more frenzied--

"Please! Please!" Cedric strained at his bonds, which bit harshly into his wrists and held fast.

Rasher finally stopped, his sneer deepened. "Now tell me, slave, will you be so foolish as to defy me again?"

Cedric clenched his teeth so tightly they hurt. He shook his head.

"Speak up."

"No, I won't be so foolish again."

Rasher raised his eyebrows.

"Master."

He coiled the whip in his hands. "I'll choose to spare your friend any further lashes, for now. And what do you say to such an act of generosity?"

Cedric was trembling. "Thank you, master."

"Some civility at last. Not too hard after all, is it?"

Adrian arduously levered himself upright. His gaze, unexpectedly steely, met Cedric's.

"Right, I'd say that's a good start," Rasher said cheerfully. "Make yourselves comfortable. It's a week-long journey to your new owners in Faircross. Trig, watch them."

He left the carriage, bouncing with a self-satisfied gait.

Trig settled in at the back corner amongst the supplies, which now included Kaia's, Cedric's, and Adrian's saddlebags. Kaia's steed and Nightwind were tethered to the transport, likely to be sold in Faircross alongside their former masters.

The carriage began to move.

Trig grabbed Adrian and Cedric's saddlebags. He pulled out the last of their dried peaches and shoved them into his mouth. Three noisy chews later, he swallowed and turned to Adrian with a gloating grin.

Adrian's jaw worked in barely-suppressed anger, but he said nothing. The lingering pain of the lashings still veiled his eyes.

Trig was leisurely gnawing on a piece of flatbread when Kaia began to shake. Unlike Cedric's shivering, these fits were harsher. The dry, crisp clicks of her teeth drew Trig's attention.

"What's wrong with ye?" he demanded. He stuffed the last of the flatbread into his mouth.

"I… h--have… a condition," Kaia managed to gasp. "Medicine… in my belt…"

Her belt lay near the saddlebags, and Trig held it aloft like a dead serpent. Several small pouches hung from the thick, intricately-patterned leather.

"S--second from… the top," she said. "P--please…"

"And what'll you do for me in return, darling?"

Kaia glanced at Cedric. "I… h--have his m--medicine, too. W--without it, he'll d--die within… the day." She attempted a smile. "T--ten extra nobilis. Th--think about it."

Trig considered the deal. Then, he shrugged and plunged a few fingers into the proper pouch to withdraw three vials, each containing a different-colored liquid.

"R--red one, m--master."

He grinned at the address, pulled the cork, and tipped the contents into her spasming mouth. "This ailment of yours will plummet your buying price, little miss," he said. "Mayhap I'll keep you for myself, now that you've learned manners."

Trig's greasy grin startlingly reminisced of Henry Avidus' advances on Grace, and Cedric's skin crawled. Against all reason and sense, a mild stirring of sympathy for the Bloodclaw arose within him.

She swallowed and closed her eyes. Her fits subsided with suspicious abruptness, as if pinched out like a candle flame.

Adrian tensed in anticipation, and the meaning in his look was clear. It wasn't medicine that she'd tricked the slaver into giving her.

"Now which one's the cure for the lad?" Trig demanded, shaking the belt impatiently.

Kaia's eyes slowly opened. Like the contents of the vial, they were the color of blood.