Beyond the frame spread the vivid colors of the flat Daviian Plateau. The patchwork of yellows, tans and browns seemed so soothing in comparison to the torture device.
My heart began beating in a fast tempo. I kept my eyes staring straight ahead when Alea came into view. A few inches taller than me, Alea’s chin reached my eye level. She had removed her cloak and revealed her blue pants and short-sleeved V-neck blouse that had white disks sewn onto it, making it look as if she wore fish scales. A leather weapon belt circled her waist.
“Feeling better?” she asked. “Let’s make sure.” She poked the tip of her blade into my right thigh.
Concentrating so hard on not reacting, I took a moment to realize the thrust hadn’t hurt. The tip of Alea’s knife had hit my switchblade holder. Still strapped to my thigh, I wondered if the weapon remained inside it. Alea considered my expression for many frantic heartbeats. If she suspected I could move, then all would be lost.
“Your clothes are strange,” she said finally. “They’re thick and resist my knife. I will remove them and keep them. They would make a fine reminder of our time together.”
She stepped over to the frame and grabbed the manacles that hung down, pulling. The wheel on the pulley spun and let more chain through until the cuffs reached my cart.
“You’re too heavy for me to lift. Good thing my brother added that pulley so I can easily yank you into place.” She unlocked the metal cuffs and opened them wide.
My time to act approached. If she was smart, she would secure my wrists in the cuffs before untying my feet. Once my arms were locked into the frame, I would be helpless again. I would only have a brief window of opportunity. And I planned to risk everything on a guess.
She leaned over with her knife and cut the rope holding my right arm to the side of the cart. I let it drop to my side as if it were a dead weight, hoping she would untie my other arm before fastening them. Instead, Alea put her knife in her belt and reached for my arm.
I plunged my hand into my pocket and grabbed for my switchblade. Alea froze for a moment in shock. My fingers found the smooth handle and I almost laughed aloud with relief. Yanking the weapon out, I knocked aside her arm and triggered the blade.
She drew her knife. Before she could step back, I plunged my blade into her lower abdomen. Grunting in surprise, she aimed her weapon at my heart. She staggered a bit as she leaned forward to strike, and I felt cold steel bite deep into my stomach. Alea fell, sitting hard on the ground. She hunched over my switchblade.
I gasped for breath, trying to keep from passing out. Pain flamed up my back and gripped my insides like a tight vise.
Alea pulled my blade from her guts and dropped it onto the ground. Crawling over to her cloak, she retrieved a vial of liquid from one of the pockets. She opened it, dipped her finger in, and rubbed the liquid into her stab wound. Curare.
Lurching to her feet, she walked back to me. She studied my condition in silence. The Curare she had used must have been diluted in order for her to move.
“Take my knife out to free yourself and you will bleed to death,” she said with grim satisfaction. “Leave it in and you will eventually die. Either way you’re in the middle of the plains with no one to help you and no magic to heal you.” She shrugged. “Not what I had planned, but the results will be the same.”
“What about your problem?” I asked, huffing with the effort.
“I have my horse and my people close by. Our healer will cure me and I will be back in time to watch your final moments.” She moved past the cart. After some rustling and grunting, she clicked at her horse, and I heard the familiar thumping of hooves.
As my vision began to blur I had to agree with Alea. My position hadn’t improved, but at least I’d denied her the satisfaction of torturing me. The intense pain made concentrating difficult. Do I pull the knife? Or keep it in?
Time passed and I drifted in and out of consciousness. I roused when the drum of a galloping horse reached my ears. I hadn’t made my decision and Alea was returning to gloat.
Closing my eyes to avoid seeing her smug expression, I heard a whinny. The sound soothed my pain as if I’d been dosed with Curare. I opened my eyes and saw Kiki’s face.
My prospects looked better, but I wasn’t sure I could communicate with Kiki.
“Knife,” I said aloud. My throat burned with thirst. “Get me the knife.” Looking over to my switchblade on the ground, I then stared at Kiki. I let my eyes and head move from one to the other. “Please.”
She turned an eye in the right direction. Then walked over and grasped the handle with her teeth. Smart, indeed.
I held out my free hand and she placed the weapon in my palm. “Kiki, if this works out,” I said, “I’ll feed you all the apples and peppermints that you want.”
Fresh waves of pain coursed through my body as I twisted to cut the rope around my left wrist. When the strands severed, I fell to the ground, but had enough sense to land on my elbows and knees, keeping the knife from plunging deeper into my stomach. After an eternity, I reached back and cut the rope around my feet.
I probably would have curled up on the ground and given in to the release of unconsciousness, but Kiki huffed at me and nudged my face with her nose. Looking up, I thought her back seemed as unattainable as the clouds in the sky. No step stool in the wild. I laughed, but it came out as a hysterical cry.
Kiki moved away. She returned with my pack in her mouth, setting it down next to me. I gave her a wry smile. Whenever I rode her, I always had my pack with me. She probably thought I needed my backpack to climb onto her back. Pawing with impatience, she pushed the pack closer to me. I had mentioned apples. Perhaps she wanted the one inside.