A filthy cloth was stuffed into her mouth, while the youngest member of the gang reached under her cloak and snatched the dagger that hung at her side. Another of the men ripped her pack away and tied her hands tightly behind her. Before she could even struggle, she was lifted up and tossed over the back of one of the horses.
Talia shifted her weight quickly, careful to conceal the small bulk beneath her skirt from the man who mounted the horse behind her.
Even bound and gagged, she was quick to take in every detail of her attackers. They wore no mark, color or signil in common that would identify their master, and only one of the men rode with a saddle. Bareback riding was far more common in the North, and among the poor. Their clothes were made of simple homespun, and their cloaks of clumsily sewn animal hide. These did not seem to be the sort of men who made their living working for a noble. They were either hired local ruffians or rebels. Most likely, the very rebels she had been hoping to escape.
The man behind her snatched her by the arm and spurred his horse. Talia quickly understood why he held her arm in so firm a grasp. She had never rode a horse on her stomach before. Uncomfortable was too mild a word for it. The constant jarring and slamming against the animal's back made her feel as though she would vomit. She tried to roll on her side, but found the position even more painful.
They only rode for an hour or so before reaching camp, but by the time the men stopped, she was fairly certain that her waist was bruised black and blue.
The man who held her by the arm, jumped down and tossed her to the ground like luggage, and even though she knew the ground wasn't moving, her stomach and vision attempted to convince her that it was.
Talia groaned against the cloth lodged in her mouth.
"Beldar, go and find some wood, the fire's almost out," the leader ordered the man beside her. "And you, Feynor, see that the horses are fed before you eat!"
The youngest of the group, the thin-faced, sharp-nosed man who had taken her dagger, scowled, but turned to the horses.
The other three men busied themselves filling a pot with snow and then suspending it over the fire. The young one, Feynor, was busy with the horses, but Talia was quick to notice that he continually sneaked glances at her. He was curious. That was something she could work with.
She struggled to sit up, wincing in pain as her bruised waist throbbed. She tried to spit the cloth out, but could not manage it. She watched the young man named Feynor, and the next time he made eye contact, she raised her eyebrows hopefully.
He frowned and looked quickly away, but then gave a pointed glance toward the leader before looking back at her. The implication was clear. The leader would decide if she would be untagged. At the same time, the fact that he had bothered to communicate with her at all was a clear indicator that he felt some small sort of sympathy. That gave her a little more to work with.
Talia leaned forward and moaned loudly against her gag, finally getting the attention of the leader and the two older men beside him.
"What's wrong with her?" one of them scoffed.
Talia moaned again and wriggled her shoulders.
"Feynor! See what she wants!" the leader snapped.
The young man wasted no time, and hurried over toward her, his face carefully arranged to look angry and annoyed, but his eyes were excited.
He ripped the cloth from her mouth.
"What's wrong with you?" he demanded in a loud, angry voice, and then: "are you okay?" in a whisper.
"So-o-o c-c-cold," Talia shivered. She made her eyes as wide and piteous as possible and she stared up at him.
"She says she's cold!" Feynor yelled.
"Bring her closer to the fire then. Can't let the goods freeze now, can we lads?" the leader chuckled.
Feynor lifted her gently and set her down closer to the fire.
"T-t-thank you," she whispered in his ear. She noted with satisfaction that her breath on his neck had brought a faint color to his cheeks.
"Look at the boy blush! Bet that's the first time he's ever laid a hand on a woman!" the leader chortled, and the other two laughed with him.
Talia could see that they were roasting potatoes in the fire and that the kettle was just about to boil. The leader added a string of sausages to it.
"Hungry, girl?" the leader asked. "You look it. Skinny as a rail, isn't she?"
"Smallish too! Like a runt. You wouldn't think a Princess would look so sickly and underfed," the man beside him agreed.
"I'm not a princess, but you'll find that out soon enough. W-where are you taking me?" Talia asked in a high-pitched girlish voice. If they thought she was sickly and small and weak, so much the better.
"You'll find out when we get there, Princess. Here, make her eat something, Feynor!" The leader ordered and tossed a potato at the young man.
Feynor scowled, but quickly unwrapped the potato and blew on it a few times. He held it out to her, and Talia leaned forward to take a small bite. She looked up at him and then lowered her lashes and glanced down as she did so, feigning embarrassment at being fed.
The men ate when Beldar returned with an armful of wood. Feynor broke a sausage into pieces and fed them carefully to her with his fingers.
When Talia managed to 'accidentally' brush her tongue against his thumb, he jolted visibly and his cheeks burned.
She gasped as though shocked and embarrassed by what had happened and looked quickly away.
"Idiot," she scoffed inwardly.
After supper, the leader stretched out on his bedroll and lit his pipe.
"We'll head south again at first light," he informed the group. Looks like there'll be snow. It should cover our tracks.
"C-c-can I h-have a b-blanket?" Talia asked, shuddering visibly. "I-I'm sorry, it's j-j-just so c-cold."
"Feynor! Give the Princess your blanket!" the leader ordered.
"Why does it have to be mine?" Feynor whined. "Make Gerdie give her his! Look at how fat he is, he hardly needs it!"
"I'll thrash you good boy!" Gerdie threatened, acting as though he would stand up.
"Feynor! Do as I say!" the leader snapped.
Feynor gave an agitated sigh, but shook out his blanket and tossed it around Talia's shoulders.
"S-s-sorry," she whispered.
Feynor sat down beside her and winked.
Interesting, Talia thought. What did that mean? A tiny spark of hope lit inside of her. Perhaps Feynor wasn't quite as bad as the rest of them.
As the fire died down, the men laid down and prepared to sleep-- all besides Feynor. As the youngest, it seemed to be his duty to take first watch and tend the fire.
Talia lay on her side and studied him. He could very well be the means of her escape. He seemed a little kinder to her than the rest, perhaps a bit sympathetic. Perhaps she could play on those sympathies and find a way to escape.
He caught her staring and grinned at her. As she watched, he put his finger to his lips and jerked his head toward the leader.
She understood his meaning. Wait until they were asleep.
Was he going to let her escape? Was he a rebel or a spy among the rebels? Her heart thudded excitedly in her chest. She nodded.
After some time had passed, and the leader was lightly snoring, Feynor stood and approached her. He bent down beside her, bringing his mouth close to her ear.
"Still cold?" he whispered.
Talia nodded, wondering if he had another blanket.
Instead, he laid down next to her and wrapped an arm around her drawing her against himself.
Talia froze. When his hand slipped beneath the blanket and moved slowly across her bruised waist, she understood that his intent had never been to help her. He squeezed her breast and let out a low moan in her ear.
Talia opened her mouth to scream, but he covered it quickly with his other hand.
"Sssh! Sssh! Quiet now! You want them to wake up?" he hissed in her ear.
He ground his pelvis against her bottom slowly and she had to stifle an ourtraged scream when she realized what had risen between them.
"You like that?" he whispered. "I bet you do. I could see the way you was looking at me. You Vezdan girls are always looking for it, aren't ya?"
Talia shook her head fiercely and bucked against him, but he only tightened his hold on her.
She could not escape-- not tied up and then held by someone much stronger than she was. If he tried putting his hand down her skirt, he'd find a big surprise, and she would lose the last card she had. She would have to try something different.
She let her body go loose, relaxing against his, and then rolled onto her back to look up at him. He grinned, and this time she could see the cruel glint in his eye as he did. She blinked a few times and then gently licked his hand. He gave a shuddery breath and looked at her in surprise.
"You do like it, don't you?" he whispered.
She writhed against him and then moaned against his hand.
His eyes went wide in surprise.
She closed her eyes and lifted her chin, and he took her meaning immediately.
He released her mouth and dipped his head to kiss her hungrily. Talia opened her mouth to his tongue, and steeled herself against the stomach clenching revulsion she felt. His to guess and mouth were cold and slimy.
When he drew back for air, she gazed seductively up at him.
"Not here!" she hissed.
"Why not?" he grinned.
"They could wake up any second. Over there, behind those trees!" she begged motioning with a jerk of her head
Feynor glanced to where she had motioned and then back at the leader who was still snoring. He seemed to consider it.
"Please," Talia whispered. "I'll show you a trick only Vezdan girls know."
That sealed it for Feynor. He carefully got to his knees and put his finger to his lips, before hauling her to her feet by arm.
Dragging her away from the camp, they went a little way into the woods before he pulled her down beside him behind a small clump of brush.
"Now you gotta show me!" he ordered, leering at her.
Talia giggled.
"So eager!" she whispered. She got up onto her knees and straddled him, which made him gasp in delight.
She jerked her shoulder and scowled.
"Ugh. I need my hands to do it!" she complained.
He frowned, but she could see he was nearly convinced.
"I guess you'll never know what a Vezdan girl can do with her hands," she taunted lightly.
He smirked at this, reached behind her and loosened the rope that bound her hands together.
"Now show me. I'm all ready for you," he growled.
Talia chuckled lightly and rubbed her newly freed wrists. She put one hand beneath her skirt and felt for the band on her leg.
"You ready?" she giggled as her hand closed around the handle of the concealed dagger.
Feynor grinned and nodded.
With one swift and deadly movement, Talia swept the dagger from it's sheath and slashed his throat.