A World Apart (7 page)

He was near the top of a small rise covered in small bushes when he heard human voices coming from the other side.  After being alone for the better part of two days, it took him a moment to realize what it was he was hearing.  "People!"  He thought excitedly.  He almost broke out in sob of relief as he imagined rescue and returning to his family.

As he scrambled to reach the bushes, the shout for help died on his lips.  At the last minute, his mind warned him that it was possible that these people may have had something to do with him being here.  He stopped and dropped to his stomach, slowly crawling through the bushes to try and get a look at these people before he announced his presence.  As he reached the top of the rise and gazed down, he was glad he did not shout first.

In the hollow at the bottom of the slope stood four men, talking and, it seemed to Jake, arguing.  Fingers were pointed and sharp gestures punctuated the conversation.  It wasn't the argument that caused him to feel grateful about staying quiet.  All of the men were wearing dark leather clothing, pants and shirts studded with metal rings, with knee-high boots and wide brown leather belts around their waists.  A sheathed long sword and dagger hung from the belt of each man.

"What the hell is this...?"  Jake thought to himself, unsure of how to react.  "Did I come across a weird Renaissance fair or something?"

He was still mulling over what to do when hard, rough hands grabbed his legs and yanked him out of the bushes.  He had a brief vision of men who looked like the others and tried to shout when something heavy crashed into the side of his head and everything went dark.

C
HAPTER
F
IVE

The buzzing sound in his head soon became low, harsh voices as Jake slowly regained consciousness, his head aching terribly, body cramping and feeling nauseous.  He was lying on his side, head resting in the dirt when he opened his eyes.  As he attempted to shift his position to relieve some of the pain, he realized that his hands were bound behind his back with a coarse rope. He cautiously raised his head to see where he was.  His movement did not go unnoticed.

"So...the boy lives.  Luck is with you, Surt."  A rough voice said.  Jake looked in the direction of the voice.  He could see a large man standing with the four men Jake recognized as the ones in the hollow.  He was dressed in the similar clothing as the men he was with, except this one was wearing a dull metal breastplate over his shirt with a dark cloak hanging off his shoulders.  He was tall and muscular, with long shaggy black hair and dark eyes staring out from under thick eyebrows.  His face was lean and hard, with a long goatee hanging from his chin that was tied in different places with leather cords.  He was looking at Jake as he spoke.  "I told you that the Master wanted any strangers brought to him undamaged."

From behind him, Jake heard several crude jokes were directed at one called Surt.  He twisted his head towards the sound and saw three other men standing a few feet behind him.  One was glowering at him, clearly unhappy.  Jake guessed he was the one they called Surt.  He was shorter and stockier than the rest, his face wide with thin lips and a nose that looked like it had been broken multiple times.  His dark eyes above the rough stubble of a beard were predatory as they glared angrily at Jake.

All of the men were dressed in the same dark leather outfits and all carried weapons.  Most had unkempt hair, some with full beards, and looked as if they had not had a shower in a while.  As Jake quietly studied them, he noticed that they all had a similar look in their eyes.  There was something there, something slightly crazed and wild, as if they were wired up on some drug.  He tried to push down his sudden fear, but knew there was clearly something not right with these men.

The leader walked over to Jake, appraising him as he approached.  Jake could see that he also had the wild look in his dark eyes, but there was a coldness in them as well.  The man stopped and squatted next to Jake.  He held out his hand and Jake saw his phone with the earbuds dangling.  "What is this thing, boy?"  He said quietly.

"A phone."  Jake said, voice catching in his throat.  "You know…a phone?"  The man, with those crazed cold eyes, just stared at Jake.  After a moment, Jake realized that the man did not know what a phone was.

"I don't understand that name."  The man turned the phone over in his hand, studying it, and then put it into a deep pocket in his cloak.  "It doesn't matter; we have to move.  The Master will know what to make of it."

He stood and casually kicked Jake in the stomach, nearly driving his breath away.  "Get up, boy.  We have a long way to go."  Jake struggled to right himself, his stomach cramping and feeling as if he needed to throw up.  "Don't make me tell you again.  You will not like that, I assure you."  The man warned darkly.

Jake was able to roll over onto his stomach and get his knees under him when the man reached out and grabbed Jake by his hair.  Ignoring Jake's cries, he pulled, lifting Jake as he struggled to get his feet under him, feeling as if his scalp was going to come off his skull.  Once Jake was standing, the man released his hair and spoke to the others.

"Surt, since you're the idiot that nearly killed him, you will make sure the boy keeps up.  If he can't, you will be carrying him on your back."  Hoots of laughter burst for the other men.  "We have a long march ahead.  Anyone that can't keep up is on his own.  Let's go."  With that, the man set off through the forest at a fast pace, the others following him.

"Move, boy!"  Surt growled, kicking Jake hard.  Jake staggered after the other men, his movement unsteady from his injuries and bound hands.  Surt was right behind him, encouraging a faster pace with rough shoves and slaps to Jake's head.  Fear kept Jake moving, striving to avoid more abuse from Surt.

After several minutes, they caught up with the rest of the group.  Jake could hear the men betting on when Surt would have to carry him.  They laughed at Jake, mocking him, poking and prodding him as he jogged to keep up.  The leader would glance at Jake from time to time, but said nothing.  Jake had no time to think of anything else but trying to keep up with the group.

They kept moving for almost an hour.  Jake's throat and chest were burning from his exertions, his legs feeling watery.  The fear of what would happen if he could not keep up kept him striving to put one foot in front of the other.

Eventually, even his fear could not overcome his lack of food and his injuries.  Jake stumbled as he tried to pass over a fallen log, tumbling to the ground and could not get back up.  A yank on his bonds, pulling his arms up until Jake was sure his shoulders would pop out of their sockets, lifted him to his feet.  He took a step and went back down in a heap.  A swift kick landed in his bruised ribs, sending new pain to match the throbbing ache of his head.  He tried to get back up, but his strength failed him.  Another kick in his ribs caused him to cry out in pain.  Tears springing from his eyes, he cringed, waiting for more abuse.

"Enough, Surt."  Jake heard the leader say, seeing his boots approach through his tear-blurred vision.  "I told you he was supposed to be delivered undamaged.  Thanks to you, that will not happen.  Don't make it worse."  He spoke shortly to the rest of the men.  "Rest break."  The men squatted down, breaking out waterskins and some sort of light brown bread.

The leader squatted down next to Jake and grabbed his hair again, pulling his head off the ground.  He looked at Jake with those hard eyes.  "The boy is spent.  Give him food and water, Surt."

"I'm not a damned nursemaid, Matus.  Feed him yourself."  Surt said sullenly.

"Surt, you will feed and water him or I will bury you here and now."  The leader growled, his gloved hand moving and resting on his swordhilt.

Surt glared at him, weighing defiance, but Matus just coldly stared back at him, waiting.  Surt finally looked away.  "All right, I'll feed him."  He muttered.  Laughter broke out from the rest of the men watching the confrontation.

Surt grabbed Jake by the shoulder and roughly pulled him into a sitting position.  He took out some bread from his poach and tore off a piece.  He jammed it at Jake's mouth and, when Jake opened his mouth to take a bite, he shoved it in, a cruel smile on his lips.  Jake began to choke and tried to turn his head, but Surt reached out with his other hand and grabbed Jake by his jaw.  Breathing rapidly through his nose, Jake tried to close his mouth against the invasion, but Surt pulled his mouth open and continued to shove the bread in.  Sure that he was going to die, Jake began trashing against Surt's hold.  Jake heard laughter from the others and Surt grinned in response.  Jake, unable to escape, exhausted and battered, was sure that this was the end.

Suddenly, Surt's hand ripped away from Jake's face as Matus kicked him off of Jake.  As Surt tried to get to his feet, Matus kicked him again.  Surt rolled across the ground and came back to his feet.  He reached for his sword, but Matus was quicker.  He had his sword out and the point against Surt's throat in an instant.

His hard eyes glittered and his voice was ice-cold as he spoke.  "I said feed him, not choke him.  Do not make me tell you again, Surt.  The Master will not care if I dispose of a worthless dog like you."

Surt glared back, but began to lick his lips.  He slowly removed his hand from his sword.  Matus stared at him for another moment, then sheathed his sword in a fluid motion and turned and walked back to the tree that he had been resting under.  Surt, muttering darkly to himself and trying to ignore the catcalls and name-calling from the others, came back to Jake.  He stared pure murder at Jake as he squatted in front of him, but simply held the bread out for Jake to eat.

Jake took as big a bite as he felt safe eating, trying to speed this along and get Surt away from him.  The bread was stale, hard and without much flavor, but it was food.  Jake finished the bread and Surt held up a waterskin.  Jake opened his mouth and Surt poured water into his mouth.  The water was warm with a leathery taste, but nothing tasted better to Jake.  He gulped down as much of the water as he could while Surt poured.  Too soon for Jake, the waterskin was taken away and Surt moved off to eat and rest.

Jake closed his eyes and tried to relax, the sensation having something in his stomach drowning out his pain momentarily.  His mind, in spite of his pain and exhaustion, was racing.  He had no idea why any of this was happening.  He felt as if he had been dropped into some nightmare.  All he wanted was to get away from these men and go home.  The thought of home brought fresh tears which he quickly tried to stop.  Tears had no impact of these men; if anything, Jake felt it would bring further cruelty.

"Time to move."  Matus said, intruding on his thoughts and drawing a low groan from Jake. "Get him up, Surt."

Surt hauled Jake to his feet, where he stood swaying.  Matus looked hard at Jake for a moment and said.  "Looks like you will be carrying him, Surt."  Surt gritted his teeth, but did not say anything.  He grabbed Jake and threw him over his shoulder like sack of grain.  The group resumed their fast pace and sped off through the forest.

In this position, Jake's lower abdomen was bouncing up and down on Surt's shoulder.  All of Jake's injuries screamed at him with every jolt.  After several minutes, he felt the water and bread coming back up.  He tried to stop it, but couldn't, and vomited all over the back of Surt's legs.  That brought howls of laughter from the others and a grim smile from Matus.  Surt asked to stop and clean off the mess, but Matus would not let the group halt.

They kept up the pace for most of the day, only interrupted by infrequent rest breaks.  When Matus called the breaks, Surt would throw Jake roughly to the ground, but Matus made him give Jake water and bread at every stop.  Jake was sure that the group hoped he would puke on Surt again, but he was able to keep it down.  Throughout the march, Jake tried to relax and develop a plan of escape, but spending most of his time hanging upside down and bouncing off Surt's shoulder made that impossible.

At each break, Jake noticed the subtle changes in the forest.  As they progressed, the trees began to thin slightly, with more open spaces appearing.  More bushes were intergrowing with the trees.  The ground transitioned from a dark fertile color to a lighter brown and more compacted soil.  Watching the sun through the breaks in the trees, Jake thought that the group was moving in a westerly direction.  That would mean that they were heading towards the rolling plains that Jake saw from the ridge.

The sky was starting to darken when they halted for the night, stopping in a large clearing ringed with trees and bushes.  As usual, Jake was thrown to the ground by Surt, the pain from his injuries reigniting.  Jake's hands ached from the bindings and he was concerned that they were being seriously damaged.  He rolled over to his side and got up to his knees, head spinning.  He took several deep breaths and slowly the spinning stopped.  He tried to stretch his upper body to alleviate the soreness in his abdomen from being carried.  He strained against his bindings, hoping to loosen them to give his hands more circulation.

Jake was left alone with Matus as the rest of the men were sent out to gather firewood.  Matus had sat down, with his back to a tree across the clearing, pulled the hood of his cloak up and leaned his head back.  Even though he appeared disinterested, Jake could feel the man's eyes on him.  Jake stayed as quiet and still as he could, only shifting slightly as he continued to try to stretch his sore muscles.

Soon, the others had returned with firewood and got a large campfire going in the middle of the clearing.  The men sat around the fire, eating, drinking and laughing; all except Matus and Surt.  Matus sat there motionless, about ten feet away from the fire, like a dark statue.  Surt was sitting slightly apart from the rest of the men, tearing at his food while glaring from under his deep brows at, alternatively, Matus and Jake.

One of the men got up and came over to Jake, a waterskin in his hand.  "Here, boy…drink."  The man said.  Jake opened his mouth and the man poured the liquid into his mouth.  As soon as he swallowed the first gulp, Jake realized that it was not water.  The liquid burned as it went down, causing Jake to cough harshly.