Caught in a Lie
Jormugar didn't fear the slavers who roamed the region, most who worked these wastes knew him, and he didn't believe they would cross that line by taking as a captive one of their own. However, the subhuman ones were quite another matter. Until the bounty hunter reached the verges of their lands he had ridden only at night, as he had not expected any pursuit from the valley's occupants, nor did he detect any.
Feeling safe in his valuelessness he had stopped for a time to manufacture a crude but serviceable longbow, as well as a sturdy spear. They were good for hunting, but he missed his rifle and a well-crafted longbow. Even though he was now armed Jormugar would still have to exercise great care. There were the disturbing bouts of illness also, sometimes he was struck by an almost debilitating episode of nausea and headaches. Making travel and awareness a chore. Going was slow, and the distance to his employer's stronghold was substantial.
Once he reached the verges of the lands occupied by the subhuman ones, Jormugar's passage south slowed to a crawl. There were numerous sprawling villages of ramshackle iron huts to skirt. It seemed to the well-traveled bounty hunter, that in recent years the numbers of these unfortunates had grown quite sizable. Jormugar didn't fancy having his still living flesh ripped from his bones, to be devoured by these incomprehensible altered beings.
It was now dangerous to travel at night, that was the hour when the subhumans were the most active. If ambushed he would stand little chance of survival. A lone man and a healthy horse would be considered an irresistible feast for the distorted creatures. He had never beheld a living one closely, and he had no wish to.
*****
It had been three evenings since Aran, Jhary, and Kario had departed from the Bridge in haste. They had spent the days resting and readying themselves for the arduous trek they would soon make inland. The three men and their unwilling captive had secreted themselves in a patch of dense lignum scrub. The tangled profusion of branches created a dense circular thatch, with a hollow center that shielded the escapee's camp from prying eyes.
Though it carried some risk, Kario had ventured back into the outskirts of the settlement to pilfer supplies, arguing he would be the least conspicuous of the three. He had, to the other's amazement been very successful in procuring the most rudimentary items. Water-skins, food, useful clothing, even some thin but serviceable blankets, he had stolen off a bed in one of the farmer's huts.
Aran was unsure his unusual companion would be up to the task, however, as an escaped slave he dared not show his face again in the Bridge. Besides, Aran's captive had proven most troublesome, and at times he struggled to control her. The pretty girl was unruly, she struggled and fought. Even when Aran slapped and threatened. She cried out for help at every opportunity. Forcing Aran to bind and gag her.
The last thing he needed was to be tracked here. To resume his slavery was a fearsome specter that had begun to haunt him. The warrior had started to rue his impulsive decision to take Ben Johansen's strong-willed daughter prisoner. However, there was no easy route to return her; but being hard-headed and stubborn like he was, he would not admit to anyone his spontaneous action had been a mistake.
Mercenary that he could be, Aran toyed with slitting her throat and being done with his problem. However, to his lustful side, it seemed a waste of a good woman. She was after all pregnant, and that alone made her valuable. If not to him personally, it would to most men. He could he mused take her further inland, and when he was done sell Imogen off for a good price to someone there. A little recompense for his trouble at least.
So with minimal supplies and a short layover, they had decided to meander slowly north on foot. The day they set out was balmy, and that night a frosty desert cool. A return to more normalized weather for this time of the year, and it was most welcome by all.
Though Aran was weary from his long and harsh captivity, he had to carry the group. None could hunt as well as he, though he left the navigation to Jhary, at least until they were further north. The bard seemed to have a much broader knowledge of the South than he did.
Jhary could not risk stopping to entertain, even further inland it was probably not a good idea to be noticed. The bard did not know if he was even implicated in Aran's escape, but it was agreed they should all lay low and let no one sight their passage north. Bounties would have been levied by now, and who knows how angry or determined to find his daughter Ben Johansen had become.
Tonight, a slight breeze blew up from the southwest, and the starry skies were bright overhead, the milky way that split the heavens in two, a vibrant dash of silver on a bed of purest indigo. Aran lay back and stretched his hulking torso, gone were the iron symbols of his slavery, only a few chafing scars remained. He put his enormous arms behind his head and eyed his companions as they sat about the cheery fire. It felt good to rest, even if the ground was hard beneath him.
"Father will come for me." Imogen accused sulkily out of the blue, as she swatted at the persistent mosquitoes, even though her hands and ankles were bound.
"Perhaps," Aran replied with a lazy nonchalance. "Then I can cut off his head." He teased.
Imogen's eyes assaulted him like daggers, pupils pools of dark. Aran only chuckled at the spirited girl, she was little threat to him. He was far more concerned with his two male companions. He needed to get something clarified.
"We should really release her." Jhary dared to half mumble beneath his curtain of unbound hair as he stared into the small, cracking fire.
"Why?" Aran answered lazily. "I could do with the comforts of a female companion, I'm sure you could also?"
Imogen glared at the warrior and pulled her skirts tighter about her.
"As lovely as she is I will decline." Jhary quipped. "Honestly, I prefer willing lovers. It's asking for trouble, what if her father does track her and brings others? We are on foot, close to weaponless, and encumbered."
Aran looked to the edge of the scrubland behind him. There was nothing there but the evening song of crickets and the constant thrum of mosquitoes. "Then I will slay them," Aran answered with barbaric simplicity.
Jhary sighed.
In recent weeks Jhary had thought less about Rachel and his pain, and more about Aurianne, a dangerous duplicity considering the company he now kept. Indeed he was having much difficulty in his present situation. He had not asked Aran what the plan was, or even hinted at wanting to know. That may mean a discussion he was not so willing to participate in. It was by far easier to procrastinate.
Aran resettled onto his other elbow and gazed through the hotly burning fire at the bard in consternation. "So who did you mean the other evening by 'we'?"
Jhary looked up. "We?" The comment had not really taken him by surprise, though he feigned confusion admirably.
"Yes, 'We.' Slip of the tongue the other night?"
"Err..."
