From Out Of The Shadows Page 11

  He morphed into his human form to follow them, trying to blend in while acting nonchalant. He noticed how other people who passed them gave the men and their cargo a curious look before turning away and going on about their business. Their callousness irked him.

  Or maybe they’re reacting in fear. If it was fright, it was hard to tell whether the townspeople feared the soldiers more, or Tora.

  Presently the men reached the main square where a small crowd had gathered. Mengar remained out of immediate sight around the corner of one building. Although he was human, he knew his clothing would stand out, announcing him as a stranger.

  Once Tora was dragged off the bigger man’s shoulder, she was propped up as the sack cloth was pulled away from her head. Mengar could see she was completely unconscious.

  One of the group nodded, â��That’s her.”

  “Is the stuff ready?â�� the bigger man asked.

  “Yeah.”

  The crowd shifted, and it was then Mengar noticed the small, black pot sitting nearby on an open fire. Steam rose from the contents. He sniffed, trying to ascertain what was cooking, and what it had to do with Tora, but this far away the scent eluded him.

  The big man walked over to the little cauldron, pulling Tora behind him. He lifted her effortlessly then pointed her head-down as one of the other men grabbed her by the arms.

  Sick fear and revulsion swept over Mengar as he watched the men dip Tora’s hands into the steaming pot. Whatever was in there immediately snapped Tora out of her stupor, and she came to with a scream of agonizing pain. She tried to fight them, kicking and writhing in the big man’s grasp, but he held her firmly as the other man continued to push her hands down into the boiling depths.

  Tora shrieked again. The sound tore through Mengar, and he growled almost unconsciously. Yes, he had a distrust of Sensitives, built up after years of hearing stories and tales of their nefarious dealings in the dark magicks. In the short time he had been around Tora, he had kept most of his fear and anger in check, if only for Croat’s sake. Regardless of how he felt about Sensitives, though, what these people were doing was unconscionable. They were torturing her, and appeared to be totally unaffected by the amount of suffering they were causing.

  He strongly debated running out to stop them, but there were too many of them. Even in his Lupan form, if they managed to overcome their initial shock, they could possibly overwhelm him. No, he needed to return to his village and let Croat know what was going on. He knew Croat would send a small force to deal with thisâ��

  Mengar took a step back both mentally and physically. At some point, perhaps during the time he had been following Tora on her way back to the village, he had come to accept her. How or why, he couldn’t begin to guess. Maybe it was because, deep down, he knew that Croat wouldn’t have survived in the baron’s dungeon without her help.

  Or maybe…maybe it was because of the look of absolute peacefulness he’d seen come over his dear friend’s face whenever Tora was near. Whenever she touched him. Whenever he reached out to touch her.

  Tora’s scream of pain suddenly broke into loud sobbing. The men were pulling her hands out of the cauldron, and Mengar could see white globs dripping past her wrists.

  Wax. They had dipped her hands in boiling wax so she wouldn’t be able to touch them.

  His stomach reacted, and he nearly heaved. But he kept his ground and watched, memorizing every despicable detail so he could relay it back to Croat without error.

  The big man half-carried, half-dragged Tora toward a small pole which sat upright and slightly off-center from the main part of the square. Mengar had to adjust his position just to be able to see what they planned to do.

  Reaching the pole, one man moved away to retrieve a short bench sitting by the doorway of a nearby business. Taking it over to where the rest of the crowd was waiting, he placed it against the pole and climbed onto it. The big man hoisted Tora up toward him, who grabbed her by the arms. There was a snapping sound, which told Mengar she was being placed in cuffs. A second snap echoed in the deepening twilight. And when they finally moved away, Tora was left dangling from the pole, her hands spread far enough apart where she couldn’t reach the wax with her fingers.

  But neither could her toes reach the ground. The effect was similar to crucifying her. It would only be a matter of time before she would die of suffocation if she was made to remain there for longer than a few hours.

  Mengar had seen enough. Quickly, he ran back into the forest where he morphed into his Lupan self. Then with all the speed and strength he could muster, sped back to his village to let Croat know what had happened.

  Although he was pretty sure Croat would already be aware of it.

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  Chapter 18

  Plan

  “Arrgghhh!”

  Croat roared as he threw the chair one-handed across the room. He was halfway to the door when Amrin grabbed him by his good arm to stop him.

  “You can’t help her!”

  “I have to! I must!â�� Pulling the man’s hand away, Croat bared his teeth in fury. â��They’re torturing her, don’t you understand? Or don’t you care?”

  Worton stood to block his way. â��Stop and think, Croat! If you go blindly charging in, you won’t be doing yourself or Tora any good! Stop, Croat! Get a grip on yourself, and let’s plan on a strategy.”

  The group of men circled their leader, who was panting heavily from his recent exertions and from the anguish roiling inside him.

  “Croat.â�� Kreegah moved closer, his hands held out in a silent offer of help. â��Croat, are you sure that what you’re feeling isâ��”

  “Dammit, man! My hands are burning!â�� Croat growled. He held out his clawed hands which appeared normal and unaffected. Yet the grimace of pain on his face was undeniable.

  “What’s she done to you?â�� Osanis whispered in shock.

  “She’s done nothing to him,â�� a calm voice said from the doorway. Everyone glanced over to where Deelaht stood like an ancient sentinel, framed in the bright sunlight. After eyeing every man inside the cabin, she turned to her grandson. â��Croat, take deep breaths. Free your mind, or else anything you decide to do at this point will do more harm than good.”

  She entered the cabin. Croat’s men parted to allow her inside the circle. But before she reached their leader, Croat dropped into a nearby chair.

  “Preataruth came to tell me. What do you feel, Croat?â�� Deelaht asked him.

  “I hear her screaming in my head,â�� he gasped, fighting the terror and agony he was receiving from her. â��I can feel my hands, like they’ve been covered in fire.â�� Looking up at the elderly woman, Croat said, â��For a moment there, I was free of her. I think she was unconscious, but it was like whatever cord was running between us had been cut. I was finally free of her…and it was a feeling I never want to feel again.”

  Deelaht smiled gently. â��Do you still believe she’s put a hex on you?”

  Croat shook his head. â��I don’t know what to believe anymore. But I do know one thing. Someone has captured her, and they’re torturing her, and I must stop it.”

  “How?â�� Kreegah asked. As one, the men had moved in closer now, no longer worried that Croat might go charging off. Not with Deelaht there.

  “You’re still healing,â�� Worton pointed out. â��You can’t hope to take them all on by yourself.”

  “No.â�� Croat bowed his head and paused to think as he weighed his options. When a pair of legs walked into his range of vision, he glanced up to see Gesset’s worried stare.

  “If you need someone to go after her, I’ll go.”

  Croat opened his mouth to answer, but before he could say anything, Worton also volunteered, â��And me.”

  Seconds later, all seven men had sworn their aid. Croat slowly rose to his feet. He was cold again. His connection with Tora was gone. Permanently gone this time.
Disappeared as though it had been a single, thin thread, severed by the distance between them. He couldn’t feel her any longer. There was no sense of her, of her happiness, or of her worry. Not even her pain. There was absolutely nothing.

  Within the span of a single heartbeat, he was left totally alone. And incomplete.

  “Our connection is permanent. It doesn’t matter how long or how far apart we are, it will never be severed. Not until death.”

  “Not until the day I die?”

  “Or the day I do.”

  Oh, gods! Please, no! Invisible hands grabbed his lungs and tried to squeeze the air from them. Croat fought for breath. â��We must leave now. We go as Lupan, but in our clothes, in case we need to change to avoid detection.”

  Gesset interrupted. â��We’ll go. You need to stay here.”

  “I’m not staying,â�� Croat growled.

  “You’re not yet healed,â�� Worton added.

  Croat suddenly lunged toward his lieutenant with a roar of anger that shocked everyone. Ears lowered, Croat bared his fangs with deadly intent, and spat, â��I’m going! Those are my orders.”

  As one, all the men turned to look at the elderly woman who had retreated to the far side of the room. But she refused to acknowledge their stares, keeping her head bowed in deference to her grandson.

  It was Amrin who broke the silence. â��We’re wasting time standing around arguing. Let’s go.”

  Everyone hurried out the door to gather in the yard. Croat took the moment to let them know he’d had Tora followed. â��Mengar might be on his way back by now.”

  “Who do you think is responsible? The baron or the townspeople?â�� asked Amrin. They were waiting for Goldon to return from notifying the other guards as to where they were going.

  “Doesn’t matter,â�� Worton said as he morphed into his Lupan form. â��She should never have been allowed to go back there in the first place.â�� He gave Croat an accusing stare. â��You’ve allowed your feelings for the woman to taint your decision. We can’t easily dismiss someone like her to go back among the humans, or believe she won’t tell them about us. Especially if it means saving her own skin.”

  “Tora won’t give us away,â�� Croat said irritably.

  “I’m sorry, Croat, but in this instance, I’m more inclined to believe what Worton said,â�� Amrin spoke up. â��She’s a Sensitive. She’s touched you, and she’s managed to cloud your judgment.”

  Croat angrily whirled on the man, and was about to respond when Deelaht interceded.

  “She left because she needed to find out what happened to her brother. Cease these accusations and go get her, and bring her back. If you’re so worried about her giving us away, help find the boy, as well, and return with them both. Croat, don’t let your feelings for her override your wisdom as a leader. Think out your strategy carefully before you proceed.”

  He turned to follow his men into the woods, when Deelaht softly added, â��And don’t be deceived by her gentle nature. Her power is stronger and more potent than even she knows.”

  Croat had no idea what his grandmother meant by her last remark, but he didn’t have time to think about it. He wasn’t completely healed from his ordeal in the baron’s dungeon, and the quick trek to Neabush would sap his reserves. He needed to keep his attention focused on the dangers facing them if they were to help both Tora and her brother. Not on trying to guess the answer to another one of Deelaht’s riddles.

  Hopefully, they would soon meet up with Mengar, and maybe then Croat could find out what had caused him to finally lose all contact with her. He could only pray that the news wouldn’t be irreversible.

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  Chapter 19

  Trial

  Her whole body was one massive ache. Slowly, a little at a time, Tora took stock of herself. Her arms hurt the worst. It was difficult to breathe. Her hands and wrists felt detached, but the memory of the torture she had endured was still fresh in her mind. She was too afraid to try and move her fingers for fear of what she’d feel. Or not feel.

  “Ah. You’re awake. Good.”

  It was a male voice. Smug. Accustomed to domination. And familiar sounding.

  Forcing her eyes open, Tora slowly lifted her head and came face to face with Dollon Macobiak, the local constable. Tora had watched the man in the past as he tried to run the village with an iron hand. As far as she knew, he was not in league with the baron, but he was a bully and a bigot. Luckily, she had managed to steer clear of him.

  Apparently her luck had run out.

  “There’s a stool under your feet. Stand on it to get your breath back,â�� he ordered, making a motion toward the ground. He was bent over at the waist and peering up at her. No telling how long he had been there, watching her.

  Tora tried to look down at her feet but it was too painful. Her neck felt as if someone had twisted it. Instead, she pressed down with the balls of her feet, which found the promised stool. Carefully straightening her knees, she hissed at the burning arrows of pain which zipped through her body. Inch by inch she lifted herself, finally stopping when she was able to take a breath without a struggle. However, her arms were still stretched above her head, her hands separated far enough apart to prevent them from coming in contact with each other.

  “Are you ready to answer some questions?”

  Dawn was breaking on the cold morning. Her head felt like it had been cracked open. Her vision swam. Still, Tora could smell the bread baking over at the Murrdman’s bakery. They always baked their day’s worth of sales first thing every sunrise. That, plus the sound of the birds chirping sleepily, announced that the sun was coming up. She’d been unconscious all night.

  “What?”

  She tried to say more, but her parched throat prevented her from speaking. She wanted to ask about Basil, but was afraid that if he had managed to remain undiscovered, her request might reveal him. Her situation was worse than when she had been a prisoner in the baron’s dungeon.

  Someone came up behind her and spoke to the constable. Tora didn’t recognize the voice. Neither could she turn to see who it might be.

  “Want us to bring out the benches?”

  The constable nodded. â��And the others. We’ll try them as accomplices.”

  The others? Accomplices? Tora scanned the area. It looked like people were gathering in the square. She wondered why. Surely these people weren’t there just to watch her being humiliated, were they?

  Macobiak snapped his fingers under her nose to get her attention. â��Don’t black out on us again,â�� he sternly ordered. â��You need to remain awake to answer to your charges.”

  “What?â�� Tora croaked again.

  “Your days of being a Sensitive are coming to a close,â�� the constable informed her with a smile. â��It’s my sworn duty to remove your kind, and keep you from causing harm to others. Once this trial is over, we can proceed with carrying out the sentence.”

  To remove my kind? She didn’t like the way he said it, nor did she like the way he smiled when he mentioned â��carrying out the sentence.â�� Men like Dollon Macobiak had been bullies all their lives. He thrived on beating up on people. The rumor had been going around for some time that he was about to be hired on as one of Baron Agrino’s personal deputies. If he was, she wouldn’t be surprised.

  She peered back at the constable, who had been pulled aside by one of his men. They spoke urgently in whispers. A moment later, both men hurried away.

  Again, she tried to ease the pain in her arms and shoulders. Her legs were wobbly and threatened to give way. Resting her forehead against her arm, Tora tried to prepare herself for what was to happen, and for the humiliation she knew she would receiveâ��the accusations and the hostility that would inevitably come from the townspeople. She had seen her mother face similar circumstances, but she had never been forced to go on trial.

  No. In the past, the villagers had
foregone the trial and moved directly to the punishment phase, attacking and killing Tora’s mother and father in two separate instances. The memories Tora hoped had faded returned with a vengeance.

  People continued to wander into the square. Tora wondered if they had been summoned the night before. It wasn’t unusual to have an â��official decreeâ�� tacked to one’s front door during the night.

  As the sun rose over the treetops, the day grew warmer. More benches and seats were confiscated from homes and businesses, and brought to the village center.

  Tora could feel her strength draining away, replaced by a cold numbness. She needed water and a place where she could simply sit, if not lie down. She doubted she would get either.

  Two men, villagers she knew by name, but not personally, brought out a table, and placed it near where she was chained. A third man carried a high-backed, ornately carved chair, and set it at the end of the table. As soon as the chair was in place, Feederick Tusshion walked into the open and proceeded to take his place of honor. Macobiak followed behind him and stood to one side as four of the constable’s men assumed a stance at all four corners of the square-shaped communal area.

  Guards. They weren’t there to keep the peace. More likely to keep the growing crowd under control.

  Her eyes found several familiar faces, people she had befriended, although they had been unaware of her ability. Now they stared at her with anger and disdain, as if she had violated their trust. Or perhaps they were upset because they hadn’t known earlier so they could report her and reap the reward always paid for the whereabouts of a Sensitive.

  Sighing, Tora closed her eyes and prayed for a quick end to it all. The blackness inside her suddenly began to brighten. Lifting, lightening, heralding something more. She could feel it begin to surround her.

  Warmth. Gentleness. Growing hope.

  She opened her eyes in surprise. She was being sent these feelings shrouded in rising joy. They could only be coming from one person. From the only other person with whom she had made a connection.