Ice Blink

44: Settlers

Nuna, Iki and Toklo slumped in a cage and watched the world fly by, their cuts sending stabbing pains through their bodies. Nuna's throat ached, and she couldn't stop seeing flashes of the desperate, fruitless struggle; the fight they had lost so spectacularly.

Iki grunting as he fought, a boot swinging into his stomach.

Toklo spitting blood as they threw him face-first into the snow.

There had been too many of them for her to fight.

These people, their attackers, were taking them the wrong way. South. How would they ever re-join the others now?

These people... When she had first glimpsed them, she'd reeled back in shock. Their skin was white. Their hair ranged from the colour of tree bark to dead grass. They looked foreign and wrong, their bulky fur coats ungainly, like they didn't belong here. She'd heard rumours of a distant land with fair-haired people, far to the south-east, across the sea, but it always seemed a world away. How had they travelled so far? What did they want?

Their unfamiliar words, harsh, sharp, grated on her ears. They carried steel on them, not bone or antler. Most of the trio's weapons had shattered against theirs, and they'd disarmed them in a matter of moments.

Toklo slumped against Nuna, only half-conscious, but the fear pumping through her prevented sleep. On her other side, Iki pressed close, his blue eyes scanning everything. Their presence brought her immense comfort, although some part of her knew she should be wishing they were free, able to carry on their quest with the others.

"They came at the most inconvenient time," Iki muttered as the cage slowed, its runners scraping across the crust. It was roped to the back of a large sled which carried half a dozen men and women. "Just when we were nearing the final temple. But why do they need us captive? They could've just killed us and saved themselves the trouble."

"Iki." Nuna began to shake. "Stop it."

"If they're keeping us alive, they're going to have to feed us somehow, aren't they? That means more effort to get food, more time wasted on us."

A huge, grizzled man drove a fist against the bars, sending them slamming into the opposite side.

"Sitja um kyrt," he commanded, and they heeded it even without understanding. Quiet.

"We watch, we observe, we wait," Iki whispered. "When the time is right, we escape."

Nuna showed him her bound hands in exasperation.

"We'll deal with that." Then, just as she was thinking of how uncharacteristically optimistic he was being, he added, "Provided we don't die of exposure, or our wounds, or starvation first."

Nuna nudged Toklo but he didn't stir. Please wake up.

A woman brought them bowls of hot broth, her hair twisted back into an intricate array of braids. It was... The word eluded her. Blonde.

She shoved the bowls through the bars.

"Thank you," Nuna said, gazing into her eyes, trying to find a shred of humanity.

"Eta," she ordered. A man shouted her from the main camp, and she hurried away.

The days passed in a blur, yet they dragged agonisingly slowly at the same time. They were confined to the cage, let out once a day to relieve themselves, and soon Nuna's legs were in constant agony from lack of use. Toklo, to her relief, woke up, but none of them spoke much. They listened and watched as best they could. Luckily their captors seemed fond of ignoring them, all except for the blonde woman.