One of the soldiers ran on ahead. I was kept at a steady walk. We passed a few more brutish looking ruffians in brown leather armor. The men looked strong and capable to protect people. My mind couldn’t fathom why these men would punish the weak.

“Why are yah doing this?” I blurted and was stopped in my tracks.

The soldiers faced me with laughter and cruel expressions.

“The mouse wants to be squashed?” The curt stare from a beard faced soldier was met with my glare.

“I don’t like that look.”

I yelped when I was yanked to the ground and given a strong kick. But as much as I felt the pain, I wasn’t about to show my weakness to these beasts with no ounce of compassion. As I braced myself for another kick, I was yanked to my feet and ordered to walk. If I opened my mouth, they would cut off my tongue. It didn’t matter. Their actions had answered my question.

We turned a corner into another corridor, where I gagged on the moist acrid. I swallowed the taste and gripped my queasy stomach. That earlier threat of a sliced tongue did sound real, so I kept bile inside as I shuffled on. The air was bearable further ahead, making my steps lighter. The occasional yank pulled me into their pace. We climbed a spiraling flight of stoned steps. Mossy walls closed in around us to make the soldiers appear taller and more formidable.

Eventually, our path ended before a studded hardwood door. Its painted black surface seemed to absorb the light from surrounding torches. A solider opened it upon command. I was pushed to the stone floor of a small room cluttered with bookshelves. A worn desk was before me. Weak rays of daylight shone on the dark slate near my pale hands. I waited for another jab, but it didn’t happen. The stony silence persisted until a voice startled me.

“Soldiers wait outside.” A firm voice gave the order.

Stomping feet receded from the room. I felt I was alone with a new stranger who carried an opposing confidence to his voice.

“Stand up,” the voice ordered.

I wobbled to my feet, keeping my eyes to the floor to center my balance.

“Look at me.”

I raised my gaze to see a lean and pristine looking officer in a navy cotton tunic and white sash across his chest. He was seated in a high back chair behind the desk, where his frame blocked light from the small windowpane at his back. His eyes gave me a once over, then returned to the papers he read. I stood on the spot, waiting for the next move.

“I’m with the understanding that you used magic?” He peered at me over papers he raised before his face.

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I shook my head and yelped at the curt bang he gave the desk. Looking down, I saw a gleaming dagger perched on the edge.

“If you lie, you will have this dagger’s edge run across your throat.”

A calm voice full of conviction. Of course, he was an officer for a reason. I doubt my expression of innocence would do much to sway his decision. I felt any other answer would result in the same outcome. It was clear to me that the man had made his decision about me either way.

“If I did have it? What’s in it for yah?” I calmly asked.

His chuckle made me flinch.

“Anwar’s Order will make good use of you.”

Anwar’s Order? My head was spinning with this information tidbit. I wanted to know more, but it was obvious I had played my luck card in the room.

The officer stretched his right arm across the desk. He picked up a tiny brass bell and gave it a light shake. A few seconds later, the door opened. Guards entered the room.

“Take the girl to the West Wing Sentry. Tell them it’s another one for the haul to The Zone.” He handed one of the soldiers a sealed envelope. “Also, this is for Anwar’s master magis.”

The soldier accepted the orders and envelope with a nod. Without further words, I was yanked out of the room and back down the stairs.

Going down was a quicker and less painful trek. They led me through a corridor maze of moss and cracks running through brick walls. Eventually, the way opened into a dusty courtyard crowded with red and black clad soldiers. They marched the perimeters with thuggish halberds over their shoulders, sheathed long swords and daggers at their waists.

We skirted the courtyard and nearby barracks to reach a large stable. At the stable’s end was an enormous box-cart tethered to four horses. Filing into the cart was a line of the kids I had shared a cell with. I lifted my gaze to see a gray, wintry sky over my head as I approached the line. There wasn’t much I could do now but reach the destination. I prayed that the sky there would be kinder. I followed the push and shuffle into the cart’s hull.

“Neven!” Kalia gasped with a tone of hope to her voice.

“Miss me, little miss royalty,” I carefully whispered and smirked as I squished into a spot next to her.

“She was trying not to cry.” Troy teased her as he popped his head into my view.

He was next to her, showing his usual weird, chirpy expression. I somehow felt he was relieved to see me, too.

“Like crusty geezers can get the better of me.” I huffed with bravado.

Troy nodded. Kalia lapsed into silence.

The last kid shuffled in. The cart doors closed with a brutal clang. The space lapsed into a semi darkness, with slivers of daylight straying inside via hairline cracks along the walls. The noise started. Someone complained. One kid was whimpering, another cried and was told to shut up, whilst a girl made cooing, mothering sounds. It made me feel sad.

“I’ll find a way to make these kids smile again.” I thought and felt a determination surge through me.

I would suffer with them, so I could make it all right. And to hold to my belief where the strong should protect the weak.

“Suffering is not meant to end in misery,” I whispered more to myself.

Troy stared at me with wide eyes and something of awe. His mouth stretched into an endearing smile. “Right!”

“Let’s hope our masters aren’t cruel to us,” Kalia whimpered.

The cart jolted into motion. Unable to fight off the exhaustion, I was soon lulled into a sleep.