A Murderer's Son: A Zelink Story

Chapter 2

I woke abruptly to a forceful blow on my hip, pulling the carriage to a halt. 

Weary and hazy-eyed, I sat myself up, attempting to deduct my surroundings. We seemed to be in a small village, lit with torches and mainly composed of tents, one large fort at the end of the main road. 

It was still dark out, and the positioning of the eager moon told me it must've been around two in the morning.

I heard Max and Ajax clamber off their horses with ease. "You awake princess?", Max asked.

I didn't give him the respect of a reply.

"Well, we've arrived a little earlier than expected, thanks to the lack of your huffing and fussing," He jumped up onto the cart, cutting the rope around my ankles, then seized my wrist and lead me down the road of the village.

I was too fatigued to argue, my skin tight and puffed with helpless tears. The earth that my feet dragged over was still rock-solid, and goosebumps lined my brittle skin. I grew more and more fearful of the insides of the tent. Voices emulated from it, laughing, rowdy voices- men's voices. I managed to chase away my heavy sobs out of pure terror, but I was still craving my comfortable bed, surrounded by guards and thick stone walls. What was I to do here, in an unidentified village, hours away from home? And full of grown men? Anyone who knew the fears of a woman would know the unappealing aspect of this situation. It's not rocket science.

Max slowly opened the curtains of the fort, leaving my wrist unnatended. I wanted to run just then, run and hide, but where would I go? Must I reiterate that I had no idea where I was?

The voices drew to a halt once the curtain was open.

"Boss," Max uttered, a playful shark in amidst the wave of silence. "We found one."

Cheers and 'ooh's poured out of the tent simultaneously. "She's a special one, I tell you." The word 'she' seemed to cause a stir, until a loud thump sounded, plugging the noise. 

After a few bellowing footsteps and concealed whispers, a formidable voice uttered. "Bring her in, then."

Max turned to me, waving his fingers towards himself, gesturing for me to come inside. I backed away gently, shaking my head, my brows creasing. 

"Come on, it's alright," He murmured, his voice high-pitched in a half-amusing, half-comforting sense. I still didn't trust him, but hesitantly, I approached the opening of the tent, my arms crossed firmly.

The sight of me drew gentle gasps of fascination, chuckles, jeers and even whistles from what must have been around thirty older men. I looked down towards the floor, tears forming around the edges of my eyes. 

What I assumed must've been the boss approached me, his crossed arms mimicking mine. He had a dark brown mass of hair, his face striking, each textured feature especially prominent and detailed on his frowning, inspecting face. His frame was huge and muscular, the veins in his hands testing the elastication of his skin as they poked out in cords of blue. He lifted my chin with one of his hands, turning to face someone across the hall, his face riddled with a taunting smile and a raised eyebrow at whoever he was looking at. The rest of the hall erupted into laughter and more jeers, sending my head snapped up, but the boss let go of my chin, raising an arm to silence them all.

"And what's your name?" His hoarse voice posed politely.

I glared up at him with stern eyes, my spirit still furious despire my panic-stricken frame. "What's it to you?" My waivering voice proposed, laced with fear but the anger prominent.

An uproar emerged from the crowd, the boss's face scrunching up and laughing. He raised both arms in mocking surrender, putting his head down and looking up at me. "Okay, okay. I like your spirit. I can take a hint."