Dream Drive Ch. 09

"Stay down," Vuntha whispered. "I'll be back soon. You'll know me by the red sparrow's call."

"Red sparrow," Katran repeated. "What are you going to do against so many?"

"Steal one of their horses," Vuntha said. He slipped into the darkness.

Boonta squeezed the green stone that was in his pocket as he rode his horse into the night. There was no answer. He squeezed it again, and again.

"That's the third time you've bothered me," came a voice that was not Tell'ad's. The accent was far thicker than that of the commander. "I hope you have something important to say."

"I ride for you now!" Boonta shouted at the stone. "I tried to kill the others, but they were two against me alone. They lost their horses in the fight!"

"Then we can still catch them. Where are you?"

"Headed toward where..." Boonta trailed off. Suddenly, men were in front of him, thousands of them arranged in neat and orderly rows, spears held in the air. "I'm right in front of you."

"I'll send a signal. Stay where you are."

A green light flew up. Smoke trailed behind it, as if a green torch had been tossed into the sky. It didn't go very high before falling, then vanished before striking the ground.

Boonta's horse snorted and stamped as the wall of men approached. He patted its mane and tightened his hold on the reins. The line of men stormed closer. Boonta raised his arm, then waved it over his head trying to draw attention to himself, but the soldiers didn't halt. He drew back in his saddle, bracing himself.

Just as it seemed they would crash together, the men moved around him. Boonta watched in wonder as they flowed about him like water, without even pause. It was only then that he realized those out to the sides had spread to make room for those in the center.

And then, they were past him, their lines merging back together as if nothing had happened. Boonta was suddenly amongst horses. He could hear the wheels of wagons. Men turned their faces to look at him, taking him in and muttering to themselves.

"You're Tell'ad's spy?"

Boonta turned his horse to the source of the voice. A man flanked by several iron-clad cavalrymen was watching him. Even in the night, his face was pale. The rest of his body seemed to merge with the dark. Boonta realized his hair and his clothing were black – or some dark color. It was hard to tell.

The man didn't look like much next to the warriors. He wasn't very tall, even on his horse, and he had an average sort of face. But his eyes were bright and cold as the night.

"I am," Boonta said. "Where is he?"

"He's..." The man trailed off. "I do not know the word. He is not able to speak right now."

"Fine," Boonta said. "Who are you?"

"I am Lord Riegart Hale, Regent Select of the Emperor Adrian Kalgradis and governor of the Western Kingdom, Steroth," he said. "You are...Buntha, yes?"

"It is pronounced Boonta! And I am son of Yukatan, elder of the Windseekers!"

The man picked through his words with a precise air. "Do not raise your voice to me. Your lineage is not relevant in the empire. Remember, if you will, that you and yours came to me to lift you out of the mud."

Boonta was not in the mood for insults, but he bit down on his anger and took a long breath. "I just came from a fight," Boonta said. "I injured their horses. They aren't far behind me, just two of them."

Hale nodded. He looked to one of his guards and spoke words in their language – garbled, ugly sounds with too many consonants. The guard, who - Boonta noted - had a colorful plume on his shoulder, turned and shouted orders. A group of horsemen broke off and rode around the column of marching soldiers.

Hale clicked at his horse and snapped his reins. His men did the same, and they started forward again behind the soldiers. Boonta tightened his knees on his horse's flanks, prodding it forward.

He had a chance to glance at the wagons. Some were packed with sacks and crates, but one of them held people. They were bound in chains that were bolted to the transports, hunched over under the canvas. Boonta couldn't see them too clearly in the dark, but they didn't look excited to be along for the ride.

I'll have servants like this man. Obedience, like this man. I just have to be patient. He breathed slowly, trying to purge the tension from his body.

Faces swam into place over the forlorn looks on the chained slaves – everyone who'd mocked him. Hanta, Vuntha, all of the warriors. And Jackson Vedalt. He'd put him in a collar, like that yellow-haired bitch, and make him watch as he took Chaki back. When he was a knight, and Jackson was rotting in a castle dungeon, Chaki would come back on her knees. He smiled as he imagined the look on Jackson's face.

Hale spoke without looking at him. "I've been in contact with Kunaya. He informed me you'd be coming just earlier. It wasn't a clean kill, but at least you stopped them from getting back to your camp."

"It was two against one," Boonta said.

"And you had..." Hale paused, shook his head. "They did not know you were coming against them, is what I mean to say."

"One of them is one of our best warriors," Boonta said. "I stabbed him in the gut, and I nearly killed the other."

"I'm sure it was a terrific battle."

Boonta realized his left leg was throbbing. He looked down – it wasn't life threatening, but he was still bleeding. The pain was coming back as his adrenaline faded. "I'm injured. Is there anyone that can treat me?"

"Concerning your prowess," Hale said, ignoring his request, "I'm a little disappointed. Kunaya promised better. But we'll correct the problem shortly."

Boonta took another slow breath. He already wanted to throttle this Hale. Tell'ad had his arrogance, but he didn't ooze it from every pore like this one. "Just run them down," Boonta said. "They have nowhere to hide. It's miles yet to the mountain's foothills."

"Actually," Hale said, "I was talking about you."

Boonta realized there was something around his neck. There was a soft click. He whipped his head back.

Boonta saw a man in black robes on a horse. His hood was pulled low, and he was already steering his mount back behind the column. When his horse's hooves hit the ground, there was no sound - no warning to give him away.

Boonta reached up. As soon as his hands touched what was there, a blue light flashed, and he felt a shock spike through his fingers and up his arms. He drew back, cursing.

"Kunaya said he'd give me a formidable warrior as a gift," Hale said, "but I think I have something like a wild dog. More bark than bite."

Boonta brought his head back to try and see the object on his neck. He couldn't get enough of an angle, but he could feel at it with his chin. It was a stiff wooden collar. The same that the girl had worn.

"I am not a dog," Boonta said. "Take this off! Now!"

Boonta felt fire burning in his chest, as if acid was welling up from his stomach. He clutched his abdomen and leaned forward on his horse. His mount snorted and skipped forward as it felt Boonta's knees press in.

"I told you not to raise your voice to me," Hale said.

"You said I would be given a title!" Boonta said. He fought against the pain, pushing his concentration into his voice. "Land!"

Hale made a strange face, then leaned over and said something to his men in their tongue. He pointed at Boonta. They chuckled and laughed, looking at Boonta with pitying faces. Mocking faces.

"Take this off me!" Boonta shouted.

"You're disobeying me again."

The burning in Boonta's gut was joined by the feeling of a hot iron twisting into his back. He screamed; his hands dug into his horse's flesh. The animal whinnied and turned in a circle, bucking; distracted by the pain, Boonta fell off the side and onto the ground. He curled up in the dirt, his face and muscles clenching up as if he could push the pain out if he tried hard enough. It only burned hotter.

And then it was gone. Boonta tried to breathe. His abdomen ached from the pain.

"That's the proper place for a dog," Hale said. "Don't make me discipline you a third time." Boonta felt a jabbing on his legs and lower back, spikes prodding him forward. "Get up and walk."

Boonta climbed to his feet. His horse was already being led away by the reins.

He looked around. A sea of faces and words he couldn't understand surrounded him. He was alone, and now he was collared, to be flogged with whips he couldn't see at the whim of this man.

Boonta ran for his horse.

He almost made it before the pain stopped him. It sliced across the backs of his legs, digging through the wound Katran had already made. His ankles went numb. He tripped over himself and fell face-first to the ground. His nose took the impact straight on. It felt like a blade jammed into the center of his face.

As Boonta turned over in the dirt, he realized the blonde girl had been unconscious not from some magical slumber, but from the pain.

He could never go back to the Windseekers. He would never have lands, nor servants. Kunaya had sold him as a slave.

"It won't be like that," Boonta said. "It won't!" He repeated the words aloud, over and over. "It won't. It won't." He turned his face up and shouted at Hale through his tears. "I will not be your dog!"

The pain started low again, then climbed up through his spine. It felt like the numbing sting of a limb that had fallen asleep – only worse. It spread out from his back, down to his hips, up to his shoulders, the bite of fire ants wrapping all over him.

Hale's words were as calm and clinical as ever. "The sensation will stop when you bark like a dog."

Boonta shook his head. The pain increased in intensity. It traveled down his arms and pricked his fingers, first with needles, and then with knives, digging in under his fingernails and peeling them back. He took in a breath, growled, breathed again. He pushed his nose into the ground, using his own injury to distract himself from the more severe pain.

"Barking, not growling," Hale said. "Like this. Woof-woof."

Boonta felt his legs twitch. He wasn't moving them – his body was acting on its own. His thoughts felt jumbled and pinched. The pain washed everything out. His mind begged him to give up, to let it go, to make it stop. His heart refused to bend.

Boonta dug his nails into his palms, using the biting pain to break through the stinging. He slammed his forehead into the dirt. He rolled over and folded his arms and ground them together, fighting against the collar's enchantment.

And then the pain got worse, and his heart started to bend.

Boonta's instincts overrode his will. His throat rebelled against his control. He made noises in the dirt, spluttered and indistinct.

"What?" Hale said. "I couldn't hear."

"Woof." Boonta sprayed the sound out between his teeth. "Woof!"

"A little louder."

"Woof! Woof! Woof!!"

The pain vanished. His nerves cried out in relief. His stomach churned, unable to cope with the alternation of everything at once and then nothing at all.

He felt drool on his mouth. Boonta tried to clean his lips only to taste a clod of dirt. He spat onto the ground.

"I always do enjoy that moment," Hale said. "The instant when the tough ones throw away their pride." He looked into the distance. "We've wasted too much time already. Walk, dog."

Boonta slowly got up. He looked at his skin. There was nothing – no cuts, no injuries that would speak of that kind of pain. He could hardly believe it was gone.

"Don't fall behind," Hale said. "It'll start again if you get too far from me."

They had dropped a short distance behind the column. Boonta had to jog to keep up with their horses. He ran after them with dead eyes and a cold, numb weight in his chest, deathly afraid of the wooden thing that was clasped around his neck.

Vuntha heard shouting - Boonta's voice. He couldn't pick out the exact words of the conversation, but it didn't sound happy.

He slinked between the wagons at the back of the army. The latter half of the army's column had suddenly stopped. The guards were facing forward and mumbling amongst themselves. Vuntha couldn't understand their words, but it sounded like they were guessing at what was holding them up.

Vuntha noticed a horse being led back from further up – Katran's horse. Why would they take Boonta's mount away? Some kind of dissention? Good.

Vuntha followed the soldier leading the horse. He kept low, darting behind the backs of the wagons and crouching against the wheels. He peeked inside each one as he went. Most were filled with sealed containers and barrels made of wood and bits of metal. Another held stacks of spears; yet another contained piles of pointed metal rods that vaguely resembled arrows, but they seemed a bit too short to fly very well. Vuntha thought they might be crossbow bolts. He'd only heard of them from Hanta.

The man leading Boonta's horse reached a wagon near the edge of the train. Six horses were hitched to its front - more than the rest of them. It had three drivers, one man holding the reins with two armored guards seated alongside. More horses lined up along the wagon, tied to pegs on its undercarriage.

The men exchanged words. Vuntha crouched on the opposite side from them, trying to keep as small and still as possible. Katran's horse was tied off near the back. It still had Katran's belongings – his saddlebags, quiver, and bow, all strung on the horse's flank – and most importantly, their warning horn.

Vuntha glanced into the wagon. He sucked in a sharp breath.

There were people under the canvas. They were naked; their ankles were chained to the inside wall of the carriage. Their shoulders were bent; their heads were lowered. Collars hung from their necks. Their skin hung as well, drooping from their bones, as if the fat and muscle had been sucked out of them.

Vuntha had seen that before, during a bad winter in his childhood. Hunting had been poor. Food was stretched thin, and so too were the people.

One of the slaves looked up.

Sunken eyes in a gaunt face stared at him. Vuntha stared back. Slowly, he lifted a finger to his lips. The slave swallowed, then gave a single nod.

Vuntha exhaled. He glanced around for a moment. He didn't know when the wagons would start moving again. He needed to take the horse and go. But he couldn't leave these people like this, hopeless and abandoned.

Vuntha slipped his knife from its sheath. The slave flinched, but settled when Vuntha turned the blade, offering the hilt. The slave met Vuntha's eyes again, and this time, there was a little life in them. The man took the weapon and tucked it behind his back.

Vuntha wasn't sure what the slave would do with the weapon. He couldn't cut through his chains, after all. In the worst case, if his state became unbearable, he had a way out of this world and into the next.

Vuntha nodded a farewell, then went around for the horse. The beast snorted a bit, then rubbed its nose on him in a sort of greeting. The other horses stamped at the unfamiliar scent.

Vuntha fumbled with the rope. His hands seemed coated in sweat; his fingers kept sliding off the frayed fibers. He'd never had so much trouble with a knot in his life. He'd never had thousands of men that wanted to kill him a stone's throw away, either.

The slack fell loose, and the animal was free. Vuntha led it away as quickly as he dared, away from the carriage and into the dark. He heard another shout – louder. Boonta again.

A few yards back from the wagon, Vuntha mounted up and started the horse out and wide behind the back of the army. He swept his eyes about for scouts, but the only people in his sight were turned toward the spectacle that had them stopped.

He reached Katran without incident. Vuntha dropped down and helped him up. "I thought you were dead when I heard that –" Katran grunted. "- scream."

"Brace yourself," Vuntha said.

Vuntha shoved Katran up onto the horse. Katran let out a pained moan, but cut it off short, grinding his teeth together. Vuntha swung up on the horse in front of him.

There was a shout in the distance. Vuntha heard hooves. A red light flashed from the direction of the wagons. The darkness was chased away by maroon light.

Vuntha jammed his knees into the side of the horse. It whinnied, then leapt into a sprint. A chorus of gallops thudded in his ears, warning him of others fast approaching. More lights flickered from behind them.

"Turn the horse left!" Katran shouted. "Now!"

Vuntha didn't question it. He jerked the reins and jabbed in with his right knee. The horse darted left.

A wind rushed by Vuntha's ear. An orb of fire flew past them, staining the grass with an orange-yellow glow. It struck the ground where Vuntha would have been if he'd kept straight.

There was a sound like a hundred drums smashed together. The orb exploded, throwing up a gout of flame and smoke. Vuntha pressed down close to the horse and urged it through the debris. The animal was in a wild-eyed panic, but it obeyed.

"Can you use your bow?!" Vuntha shouted.

"I'll try!" Katran said. Vuntha heard the snap of a bowstring a few seconds later. "Shit!"

"What?!"

"I missed!"

"Just keep firing!"

Vuntha could see the line of soldiers; they'd caught up to the front of the army. There was another light amongst the marching men; blue, this time. More horses peeled out of formation to chase them.

Katran fired again. "That's one!"

"How many left?!"

"Twenty or so!"

"Is there more magic?! What's the blue light?!"

Katran scanned the scene behind them. "It's getting bigger. I don't know what it is!"

"Keep watching it!"

"It's coming!"

"Which way?!"

"I don't know!"

Vuntha glanced over his shoulder. The light shifted as it crackled toward them, blue, then purple, indigo, back to blue. It seemed to warp the air around it, a single bolt of lightning summoned from the clouds.

The spark split in three, then shot forward. Vuntha pushed his knees into the horse as hard as he could.

The first bolt exploded near their pursuers. A soldier and his horse were blown forward so fast they flew past Vuntha and Katran, crumpling over the dirt like ragdolls. The smell of singed hair and metal slag rose over them.

The other two bolts exploded just behind them. Vuntha braced himself against the heat and clods of dirt. A rock smacked him in the shoulder and bounced off his head, slicing a gash across his temple. One of the saddlebags was gone – and with it, the warning horn.

Vuntha shook away the pain and worked to keep the horse under control. "How many?" he shouted.

"About the same!" Katran shouted back to him. "No more lights! I think they can't aim at this distance!"

"Why aren't they firing arrows?!"

"They don't have bows!" Katran said. "Horsemen with no bows! Just like the stories!"

Vuntha and Katran raced across the plain. They left the main body of the army behind, but they were rapidly losing ground to the riders. Their horse was trained for life on the move, but it was carrying two people at full gallop.

Vuntha looked back just as one of Katran's arrows took a man straight through the eye. The soldier slumped in his saddle, dragging his horse sideways and into another. Their mounts collided and slammed down into the grass at full speed.

"Nice shot!" Vuntha said. I don't think I could have made that in the dark.

"Eyes forward!" Katran shouted.

There was shouting from the pack of horsemen. They split into two groups and spaced themselves further apart. Half of them swung to the left, losing ground in the chase, but setting up for a pincer attack. The other half stayed close behind, keeping the pressure on their quarry.

"They're going to surround us!" Katran said.

"There's nowhere to ride!" Vuntha said. He set himself and tried to think. They had a good number of arrows left. They both had a knife. Katran's spear was rattling in its holster next to him. Strong weapons, but nothing that could turn the tide.