Luminous

17 - Ransom Demand

Gillian led the party of twenty bandits and twenty stumbling, tied-and-gagged guards and maids down silent hallways and stairwells to the ground floor. Along the way, they passed countless guards slumped against the wall, unconscious. At least, Meya hoped they were. Those were probably Gillian's work, not Arinel's.

Baron Kellis, Baroness Sylvia and Lord Zier were hog-tied and thrown unceremoniously over the bandits' backs, their heads bouncing to their captors' heavy gait. Meya was on Dockar's back. As she was under orders to feign sleep, she couldn't twitch a finger.

Or so they thought.

Meya's crimson silk dress had long, loose sleeves that had elaborate patterns embroidered onto them with minuscule beads and sequins. Her hand hidden under her sleeve, Meya pulled off a thread and allowed the beads to fall soundlessly to the floor.

They walked down another set of stairs then stopped. There was silence, then the sound of a lock clicking in place, a door creaking open on rusty hinges. Cold wind grazed her behind. Gillian was using a sally port to sneak out unnoticed.

The group ventured into the moonlit night in single file, wading across the moat. There were shallower sections towards the back gate, where the castle raised fish and eels in cordoned locks, but Gillian sought out a neck-deep section for them.

Meya guessed it was to dilute their scent so Coris's hounds wouldn't be able to track them down before the ransom drop. She had hundreds of beads to spare, though. Hopefully, they'd suffice.

Clear of the moat, they sloshed their way down the hill and across the choppy moorland. The night wind batted about their dripping clothes.

Half an hour later, they approached the Lord's Forest. The shadow of the overhanging canopy beat down on Meya's eyelids. Under the cover of near darkness, she creaked open one eye and craned her neck to see the front of the line.

Gillian stood at the neck of the forest. He spun around and motioned for someone in the throng to come forth. Meya couldn't see who; she closed her eye and played possum when she felt footsteps stomping towards her.

"This is where we leave you. You will return to the castle and deliver our ransom demand to Lord Coris," said Gillian.

"I shall stay with the Lady." The man growled through gritted teeth. It was Jerald. The shriek of an unsheathed blade echoed alongside muffled screams from the maids.

"You will deliver our ransom demand to Lord Coris."

Gillian repeated, his voice cold and calm as ever. Jerald didn't respond, nor did he move an inch. Gillian sheathed his sword, and the group soldiered forth into the gloom with half the number of crunching footsteps.

The faint, dull light of the full moon peeked through murky clouds and tangled twigs. Though the near darkness meant Meya could open her eyes, she still couldn't move much.

Her hair snagged on dangling, dying vines. Low-hanging branches poked her behind. She rose and fell with Dockar as he stepped over large roots and navigated the treacherous terrain. Fallen leaves crunched whenever he stepped.

Meya wasn't sure the beads would work beyond this point, but for lack of a better idea, she kept dropping them in clumps, faster than ever, lathering them with sweat from her feverish hands.

For what seemed like forever they walked, then they emerged into open space. A vast, choppy moorland spread as far as her eyes could see, dotted with boulders and rapids, bathed in bright silver moonlight. Far at the edge of the moor, Meya could just make out the pitch-black peaks of Neverend Heights. The massive Zarel river carved its path between Neverend's canyons, slicing Latakia apart from Nostra, like a torn shred of parchment barely hanging on to the rest.