Damon and three others followed quickly while the rest of the party, including the one containing Shea’s men, peeled off to follow a side road.
Time was ticking down as the confrontation with Fallon drew near.
Darius guided his horse to a side street and took it to another where he turned right. After several of these narrower paths, they rode into a wide-open area that was relatively unpopulated compared to the main road they just left.
He dismounted before a tent that was twice the width of those on the main road and considerably taller. Shea noticed most of the surrounding domiciles were larger than the ones they had passed but smaller than this one.
A deep blue banner with an embroidered phoenix in rebirth marked the entrance. An awning stretched out from the opening, creating a small strip of shade. If they’d been allowed to speak, the two warriors standing guard would probably have voiced appreciation for the tiny oasis shielding them from the blazing afternoon sun.
That was all Shea had time to notice before she was pulled from the horse. She caught a brief glance of the warriors’ curious stares before she was pushed inside.
A variety of candles illuminated the interior, showing that the ground was covered by rugs. So many that one couldn’t see the natural grass and dirt beneath. A table meant for dining, with a half dozen chairs surrounding it, was off to one side. Several sitting areas were dotted throughout the rest of the room. The ceiling had open flaps as did two of the walls to create air flow.
There was no sign of Fallon. Darius and the other three were the only people in the tent.
Shea felt the tightness in her shoulders relax just a little.
Her relief was short lived as Damon guided her past Darius and to the back of the tent, which she finally noticed had been partitioned off with a large canvas wall. He shoved her through the flaps. She glanced around as he pulled her over to a large wooden post located in the middle of the tiny area.
He bent, picked up a chain and then spun her around to face him. Before she could back away, he grabbed her wrists, clapping the iron manacles around them.
“What’s this?” Shea looked at the length of chain now securing her to the post. She lifted a wrist. The chain rose with it.
“You’ll wait here until Fallon arrives. This way you can’t run off.”
“So much drama for one woman. What would I do even if I did escape? There’s thousands of warriors out there. I wouldn’t get very far before I was caught.”
He shrugged and turned to leave. “Maybe so, but you’ve got a reputation. I don’t want to be the guy responsible for losing you. Just stay put. Fallon will figure out what he wants done when he gets here.”
He disappeared back to the other side of the tent.
As soon as he was out of sight, Shea bent to examine her bindings. There was a small keyhole on each manacle and a four-inch chain ran between her wrists. She had never been good at picking locks. She also didn’t have the necessary tools.
Trying to slip her wrists out of the cuff didn’t work. Her hands were too big, and she wasn’t quite desperate enough that she was willing to dislocate her thumbs.
Shea sighed. Standing took energy so she sat and leaned against the post. Anybody who spent a lot of time walking knew that when you had the chance to sit, you made the most of it because you never knew when you’d get to take a seat again.
Closer examination of her circumstances didn’t fill her with confidence. The post she found herself chained to was thicker than her waist. An experimental yank on the chain didn’t budge it. It had likely been pounded several feet into the ground. Trying to pull it up would be pointless.
She stared sightlessly at the canvas across from her.
This was quite the situation in which she found herself. Her party had been captured, the others forced to serve the Trateri. The kicker was she had been the one to rescue the army’s Warlord from death.
She was now separated from her group and had failed at creating a chance for them or herself to escape. The best part were that her maps were also still in the enemies’ possession.
That brought her to the present. Chained to a post, waiting to meet this man she had saved, and no hope for rescue or escape.
Perhaps the guild elders were right when they said she suffered from a serious lack of judgment.
Shea hoped the others would be all right. She hoped she would be all right.
She stretched her legs out and tilted her head back. And back.
She blinked. Then smiled.
Unlike the rest of the tent’s flexible, wooden supports, her post wasn’t bound to another at the top by hemp or groove. As thick as her waist, its base had been buried deep in the ground, making it impossible for anyone with normal strength to pull it free. This meant its top was free of any obstructions. And since her chain was looped rather than bolted into the post, there was a chance she could climb it. A very small chance, but a chance.
She came to her feet, her eyes glued on the top of the post. That spot meant freedom, and she was determined to reach it. If she could get the chain over the top, she could slip it free. Her hands would still be bound together, but she’d be able to move. To run. She could escape and worry about freeing herself from the manacles later.
A low rumble of voices filtered into her space, but so far no one had checked in on her. As long as they stayed in the front area, she might be able to pull this off.
With a rising sense of excitement, she wrapped her arms around the post and leapt up while trying to wrap her legs around it. Her legs banged into the canvas wall and rebounded off. Unable to support her weight with just her arms, she slid back down to the ground.
“Son of a bitch,” she swore softly before turning her eyes towards the partition. And waited.
When the conversation behind the wall continued without pause, she figured nobody was coming to check in on her.
Her next two attempts met with similar results. There wasn’t enough room to wrap her legs around it.
And time was running out. Each minute brought the confrontation with Fallon just a little bit closer.
The chain binding her hands didn’t help either. Vexed, she pulled at it, causing it to clank up the pole just a little bit. She frowned slightly as she did it again. She grasped the end and lifted it to chest level, holding the chain taught so it remained there.
She cocked her head as she studied it. That might work.
When she was younger and still in her apprenticeship, she had visited the forest of giants in the northwestern edge of the Lowlands. The trees there were so tall that it was impossible to see the top if you were standing at its base. The crowns were concealed from view on very cloudy days. The people there said giants must have tended them as saplings. Only a giant would have been able to enjoy the splendors in the trees’ canopy.
For those living there today, they wrapped long chains around the tree’s base and used the resulting tension to walk up it. She hoped to do something similar.
She didn’t even get a foot off the ground on her first try.
She stood back and bit her lip. How was she to do this? How exactly could a chain be used to climb?
Her eyebrows furrowing, she gathered the extra chain in her hands, placed one foot on the wood and leaned back creating a nice tension in the metal links. Slowly and being careful to not let the chain slacken, she lifted her other foot off the floor and placed it on the post. Her breath exhaled in a whoosh as she stayed in place. She picked up the bottom foot and moved it up, then she loosened the chains and quickly moved her arms up, taking the chain with it before leaning back once more. Another foot gained.