Categories > Original > Fantasy > Tradewinds 01 - "The Islands"
VI
“No…” Max breathed in silent horror. Though by now the storm would have been enough to cover for him if he had spoken it aloud. He was about to leave, having decided that hanging around here really wasn’t such a great idea, especially when he could barely hear them now anyway.
But then the two Cyexian scouts came out of the trees with their captive.
Ron had started back to the village to check on Lance and the kids. But something, perhaps memories of his own childhood explorations, steered him toward this old cemetery. The one with the creepy-looking tree on the bank. Now he was led into that very place at gunpoint.
Instead of finding their children, he had found trouble. Just moments before it found him.
“Why, hello, captain Ron,” said Slash, grinning a tight, wolfish grin. Her violet eyes— a trait unique to Cyexian women— practically glowed with malice and satisfaction. After all, she was certain they were being watched, and she was relieved that whatever was going to happen finally had. “It has been a long time.”
“So, you remember.”
“I never forget a face.” Slash’s voice remained distantly pleasant, but underneath it lurked quiet menace. “You’re a friend of Robert’s, aren’t you?”
Ron answered with silence.
And knew exactly what he was going to get for it even before Slash kicked him. He tried to block, but one of the others rifle-butted him in the back. Even as he tried to get up, two of them grabbed him, pinning him as Slash made a second kick.
This one connected.
“Help!” cried Ron, though he doubted anyone would hear him over the growing storm.
Slash punched him right in the gut. His diaphragm locked up, and so did his voice. He fell limp in the Cyexians’ arms with a barely audible groan.
“That’s better, don’t you think?” she demanded. Still she felt something was amiss, and she was determined to not underestimate Robert as she had years ago. “Now tell me, does anyone else know we’re here?”
“Why the hell should I tell you?” Ron squeaked. Though outwardly bold, behind the mask of defiance he was still confused, trying frantically to figure out how this otherwise beautiful day had turned life-or-death in the space of a few minutes. Still, he tried not to let her see how afraid he really was, tried not to give her the satisfaction, for he knew she was going to kill him anyway.
“I suppose you’re right,” Slash said absently, “but we could have made your end a little quicker had you answered my question.”
Still Ron was silent.
“Take an attitude with me, will you…” she hissed, and then nailed him with a hard right. “Make it slow!”
With that, one of her lieutenants started right in on him, beating him with both fists and knees.
“When we’re done, Ron,” Slash told him, now cool and casual again, “you’ll have the undeserved honor of being buried with my ancestors.”
It was not the way she wanted it, but as long as they remained undiscovered, she would allow no evidence of their little expedition.
“No…” Max breathed in silent horror. Though by now the storm would have been enough to cover for him if he had spoken it aloud. He was about to leave, having decided that hanging around here really wasn’t such a great idea, especially when he could barely hear them now anyway.
But then the two Cyexian scouts came out of the trees with their captive.
Ron had started back to the village to check on Lance and the kids. But something, perhaps memories of his own childhood explorations, steered him toward this old cemetery. The one with the creepy-looking tree on the bank. Now he was led into that very place at gunpoint.
Instead of finding their children, he had found trouble. Just moments before it found him.
“Why, hello, captain Ron,” said Slash, grinning a tight, wolfish grin. Her violet eyes— a trait unique to Cyexian women— practically glowed with malice and satisfaction. After all, she was certain they were being watched, and she was relieved that whatever was going to happen finally had. “It has been a long time.”
“So, you remember.”
“I never forget a face.” Slash’s voice remained distantly pleasant, but underneath it lurked quiet menace. “You’re a friend of Robert’s, aren’t you?”
Ron answered with silence.
And knew exactly what he was going to get for it even before Slash kicked him. He tried to block, but one of the others rifle-butted him in the back. Even as he tried to get up, two of them grabbed him, pinning him as Slash made a second kick.
This one connected.
“Help!” cried Ron, though he doubted anyone would hear him over the growing storm.
Slash punched him right in the gut. His diaphragm locked up, and so did his voice. He fell limp in the Cyexians’ arms with a barely audible groan.
“That’s better, don’t you think?” she demanded. Still she felt something was amiss, and she was determined to not underestimate Robert as she had years ago. “Now tell me, does anyone else know we’re here?”
“Why the hell should I tell you?” Ron squeaked. Though outwardly bold, behind the mask of defiance he was still confused, trying frantically to figure out how this otherwise beautiful day had turned life-or-death in the space of a few minutes. Still, he tried not to let her see how afraid he really was, tried not to give her the satisfaction, for he knew she was going to kill him anyway.
“I suppose you’re right,” Slash said absently, “but we could have made your end a little quicker had you answered my question.”
Still Ron was silent.
“Take an attitude with me, will you…” she hissed, and then nailed him with a hard right. “Make it slow!”
With that, one of her lieutenants started right in on him, beating him with both fists and knees.
“When we’re done, Ron,” Slash told him, now cool and casual again, “you’ll have the undeserved honor of being buried with my ancestors.”
It was not the way she wanted it, but as long as they remained undiscovered, she would allow no evidence of their little expedition.
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