A Simple Kidnapping

[McIan]

“Who are you?!! What are you doing here?!!” Toby cried in shock. He had entered his room at the Papuan inn and had begun removing his disguise – a fake beard and glasses. He was preparing to send a pigeon bearing a note to his master, but out of nowhere a robed, hooded, figure appeared. He started for his sword, but a murmured spell froze him in his tracks. The figure drew closer and Toby could see that he was dealing with a dark elf, a drow. His heart melted with fear; it stifled his gasp.

“Listen to me well, human,” came the whispered sneer from beneath the hood, “if you want to live another minute. You are coming with me, one way or another, alive or dead, it makes me no difference. If you struggle in the slightest, if you even look like you are planning to resist, you may be confident that I will kill you instantly. I care not that we are in a public place, or who your friends are, or if you have a wife and twenty children. You will be dead. Do you understand this?”

Toby caught a glimpse of the cold, emotionless, eyes; the smooth, dark, skin and long white hair. It was no disguise. He blinked affirmation.

“Good for you. Your mobility will return slowly. As it does, walk slowly with me beyond the gate I am providing for us. Do not run nor look behind you,” Jexmir, the drow mage, instructed. He leaned over and took Toby’s sword, tossing it on the bed. “You will not need that for a while… well… maybe never if you don’t heed my words.”

The drow cast the gate spell and shoved Toby through it roughly before entering it himself.

 

[McIan]

Musings of a Prisoner

Well, I guess I’ve done it now! I’m done for.

Leaning against the cold stone wall in the cramped confines of his locked cell in Emerald Keep, Toby Gillens, contemplated his fate and dreaded his destiny.

She spoke to me in my mind! She told me not to reveal her name. She can talk to me, but can I talk to her?

He closed his eyes and tried to picture his predicament and all the faces he could remember associated with it: the leader, Chanticleer, Gauf, Latifa, several other men and women whose names were not mentioned in conversations among them. And then there was that lady in blue who tried to help him. When he arrived at his new prison home, he did not see much of the building nor its surroundings, not enough to amount to anything that might help her locate him.

That blasted drow! I will get him if it’s the last thing I do! It’s a miracle he didn’t kill me! He must have told them everything he wrenched out of me! There was no use lying.

They know everything… they know the plan to discredit Scar; the ambush in Papua; names of primary minions; Virani, and the Elder, Damian. Maybe they will discount all of it and let it pass?

He laughed aloud. “And maybe the walls will cave in and I can get out of this rat hole!”

At least he was free of the confines of that accursed cave… chained to a wall, beaten half to death with a whip after being released from the iron maiden in the elf’s lair, transported to there… little food and water… for how many days? He lost count.

All he could hope for was a quick death or salvation.

Forget salvation. He was nothing to any of them, less than a bug. What did he owe his masters anyway? Malikai, Virani, that wraith thing, the Elder? Pain and misery. They wouldn’t waste a minute on him… but they might feel the urge to kill him, to keep him from talking more… or being used.

Being used.

It might not be a bad idea. If they would protect him and set him free… why not? Why not help them for a slim chance at life and freedom? Better than what he has now.

Something to think about!

 

[McIan]

Limited Freedom

Toby woke up from his napping when he heard the main jail door open, creaking as it did on its thick iron hinges. He got out of his small, lice-infested, pile of straw and stood up near the bars of his cell, straining to see who was entering the dimly-lit room. It reeked of garlic placed all over as a precaution and the smell was driving him a bit crazy. When he saw who it was, he sighed. It was the man, Scar, and not his master, nor the pretty lady in blue who had treated him kindly.

“What do you want?” he sneered. “I don’t know any more today than I did yesterday.”

Scar entered and closed the door behind him, moving to stand less than arm’s reach from the prisoner. “Good to see you, too!” he mocked. “I brought some food for one thing,” he said, setting a basket on the floor, kneeling down to open it and remove the cloth covering the contents inside. The aroma of freshly-baked bread filled the room. “A gift for you, from my wife. She wanted to make sure you don’t starve – though, really, I could care less.” He took the two loaves and offered it to him.

Virtually ripping them from his grasp, Toby pulled away from the cell bars and began consuming the bread in animalistic fashion. In between gulps, he commented, “I get fed, but I’m used to eating a lot more than what I get in here!”

“Prison for criminal behavior has a way of doing that, doesn’t it?”

Toby glared at him. “Is that why you’ve come? To gloat and taunt me?”

“No, that’s just the fun part. I came to make you an offer,” Scar replied, folding his arms.

The last few morsels wolfed-down, Toby belched loudly; it echoed off the walls.

Scar winced, shaking his head, “Oh, nice!” He pretended to wipe off his shirt. “Missed me. But I think you got a little on yourself, though.”

Toby wiped his mouth, ignoring the jibe. “What offer?”

“If I get your sorry, good-for-nothing, hide out of this cell to put you to work, could I trust you not to run away?”

Eyes widening with hope, Toby grabbed the bars bringing his face up next to them. “You bet I would… I mean, I wouldn’t! I’m a man of my word… ask anybody! When I make a deal, I keep it!”

Scar chuckled. “Let me tell you what it is, first. Here is the plan: I take you to Papua and you work all day there. At night, you return here. I give you some free time there… meals, a few drinks, maybe even some time with female friends, if you have any. I will even pay you for the work.”

Toby grinned. “I do have some ladies at the Inn who come around.”

“I’ll bet you do! Your eating habits are irresistible, I imagine. Here’s the catch, and it’s a big one: if you even look like you are trying to escape, if you so much as blink the wrong way; if I catch you talking to people I don’t know, other than those lady friends… it’s OVER. I haul your pathetic lice-ridden butt right back here for the duration, whatever that is.”

“Fair enough. I accept!”

“One more thing. Tear off a piece of that robe you’re wearing and give it to me.”

“What for?”

Scar glared at him. “Is this how it’s going to be?”

Toby stood back and ripped away a section of his sleeve, giving it to him. “Now my arm will be cold tonight,” he complained. “What do you want that for?”

“I need it for the killer guard dogs who will be watching you at all times.”

“Huh?”

“If you run away, I send them after you. I won’t worry if they bring you back or not; if I see blood on their muzzles I will know you won’t be coming back,” he said, smiling mischievously.

Toby gulped. “You wouldn’t!”

Scar’s eyes narrowed. “Did I tell you what I used to be, before I settled down a bit?”

“I heard you are a werewolf… if that’s what you mean.”

“No, before that.”

Toby shook his head.

“A bloodthirsty, conniving, murdering, vengeful, megalomaniac who never gave a whit about anybody, least of all those who got in my way or crossed me.”

Toby frowned, disbelieving. “You’re different now, right? Have to be or your woman wouldn’t have you. She’s too good for someone like that.”

“No, she did anyway, believe it or not. However, sometimes… sometimes… I just can’t help myself… you know? Oh, one more thing about this deal. I have to convince my lord Chanticleer it’s a way to go with you. He may nix the whole thing, but I will do my best.”

“Thank you! Thank you! You won’t be sorry!”

Scar picked up the empty basket and turned to leave but took one last look at him. “If I am sorry of it, you will be a lot sorrier, I promise. Oh, I will give your compliments to my lady,” he said, smiling as he exited the room, locking the door behind him.

 

[McIan]

A New Job


“Eeech! This place reeks to the heavens!” Toby exclaimed as he raised his hand to pinch his nose.

“It should,” Scar commented. “It’s a stable, and it needs a good cleaning.” He led his prisoner to the gate and both men entered. Toby was dressed in plain, cotton, colorless, clothing: a short-sleeved shirt, short pants, leather shoes and a bandana. Papua was perpetually hot, sweltering; thick, dense, jungle surrounded it on three sides, the other being a small bay. Already his clothes were a soaked mass, and he had only been there less than an hour.

Toby scowled, noticing four native Papuans, their dark, tattooed arms and faces, standing in the corners of the corral. Each was armed with a machete, a dagger, and a short bow. “What are they for? Let me guess, guards?”

“Not just any guards. They are guards who hate you. They know what you are, what you have done to them with the wolves, and who you worked for. They are just itching to flick arrows into your miserable hide.”

Eyes widening, Toby pointed to one of them. “He… He looks like he wants to kill me! Look at his face!”

Scar obliged, holding his left hand above his brow to block the midday sun. He nodded, “You know, I think you’re right!”

“Are you going to leave me here… with them?”

“Yes. Don’t worry, they won’t harm you unless you try to run or hide. And, please, don’t do the “I’m sick” collapsing routine hoping to overpower one of them. I warned them about that and we all talked it over, deciding if you fall down, you must be dead or dying.”

“I might not be, though!”

“I know… so they are going to take turns firing arrows into your prostrate body to make sure. Besides, they need some live target practice. I doubt they’ll aim to kill, but leastways the first hit might convince you to ditch the feigning ill routine.”

Toby snarled. “You really are the son of a sow, aren’t you? I think the drow had more human kindness than you do!”

“If he had any, it would be more than I have for the likes of you. Now get to work!” Scar ordered, and then, pointing to a nearby shovel. “Scoop up the equine feces and put it in those barrels for fertilization use later.”

“Equine what?”

Scar sighed. “Horse and mule turds, fool! And don’t spill any. It is useful… much more so than you I imagine!”

“I hate you!”

“Feeling is mutual. Now shut up and get to work! I will be back in time to take you to a late lunch, if you work hard and be nice, that is.”

Toby sighed and picked up the shovel. “I would like to brain you with this!”

“Please, please, try,” he intoned a false but fervent plea.

The prisoner shook his head and went to work. Scar watched a few moments, nodded to the guards, and went on his way.