The Claimed: Rashika's Resistance

Chapter 16: Rebel Base

Izra looped the rope over my wrists and wound the ends together in a firm knot. When she dropped my hands, she fiddled with the cloth I had given her, brow furrowing. 

"You'll trip if I blindfold you here. I'll take you halfway first. That should still leave enough time to keep you from knowing where we are."

I studied her eyes, but she refused to look at me. "Thank you."

She shrugged. "Don't want you slowing me down." Then Izra swiveled on her heel and started off through the woods, darting between trees. 

My boots clomped the ground and hands strained against the rope to maintain my balance as I jogged after her. Against my will, my mind catalogued my surroundings. A rugged black boulder shot up from the ground on the left, and then lavender wildflowers dappled an open patch of grass to the right. Would those pieces of information help the Royal Guard? I would not give them willingly, but if he realized I no longer served him, they could torture me... break me. 

And more heads would roll from stumps.

"Izra."

She whirled back toward me, eyes scanning left and right before meeting mine. "What?"

"The ground is smoother now. Blindfold me."

Her eyebrows ticked together for a bare second, and then she nodded and strutted toward me. The coarse fabric scratched the skin of my forehead and temple as she drew it over my head. When she doubled the fabric over and knotted it at the back, black overtook the world.

The rope tensed, tugging me into motion.

At first, dead grass crunched beneath my feet. After a few minutes, my boots thumped packed dirt and sent small rocks skittering. One larger stone loosened as I stepped on it. I jerked to the side to maintain my balance, rope cutting into my wrists. The tension on the rope released for a moment before pulling taut once more.

When crashing waves sprayed the rocky shoreline in the distance, the footsteps in front of me fell silent and the rope slackened. I swayed back to my heels and waited. A knob turned, and a door opened. Then Izra's voice carried to me softly.

"We'll pass through the room where everyone will be eating dinner, and the reaction will be hostile. You... you will have to follow my commands without question. And even then, I might not be able to protect you."

"I will, and I don't expect your protection."

A quick huff of laughter, difficult to interpret without the benefit of sight. Then the rope pulled me forward once more.

When the gentle breeze disappeared, voices hummed below my feet. To my surprise, something cushioned my step, and my boots slipped a little with each step. Sand? But the crashing waves remained barely audible. Sawdust or silt?

"We are going down a stairwell," said Izra.

Then another door creaked open, and cheerful sounds bubbled up toward us. Silverware clinked against dishes and voices murmured. Izra's hands closed over my forearm, guiding me down the stairwell one step at a time. At the bottom, smells and sounds washed over me — tangy body odor, sour food, subdued conversation, slurping mouths, and scuffing feet.

Then the voices cut off, mugs thunked tables, and a single piece of silverware clattered to the ground. One hushed word spread across the room.

"Izra!"

Izra took one more step forward, pulling me with her. "I've brought a prisoner."

Chair legs clunked against the ground as someone ripped a wild snort of fury. "You brought a fucking wild boar back to our base? Alive?"