I lay in a cage, slightly larger than the one I had been locked in previously. Was human trafficking prevalent in Veil or did I just have awful luck? Likely the latter.
Katarina stirred in a cage next to mine. I could make out Abernathy’s huddled form in the cage beyond hers. He lay on his side, motionless.
The cages rattled and bounced as the cart traveled. Six other cages, all empty, filled the covered wagon’s interior. Sunlight shone in a narrow beam through the fabric flaps at the back, nearest to our cages.
I looked up and tried using the bars at the side of the cage to pull the gag out of my mouth. The fabric was too tight and I only succeeded in scuffing my cheek a bit. Katarina looked around as I sat back in the cage.
We had been stripped of our gear, down to our underclothes. Our hands were bound tightly together by some fabric, then chained. We wouldn’t be able to pull anything out of our inventory. I felt a moment of panic as I realized my lute had not been stored in my inventory at the time.
I glanced around the cart’s interior again and saw two large chests at the front. A pile of gear lay next to the chests. The neck and slanted pegbox of my lute protruded from the stack of items.
I looked back around at Katarina, who was rubbing her face along the bars in a failed attempt at removing the gag. She looked over at me, her eyes wide with anger and fear. The muscles along her arms tensed as she tried pulling herself out of the iron bindings.
She grunted in pain and stopped a few minutes later, laying her forehead against the bars. I tried pulling against the bindings as well, but felt the skin around my wrist begin to give before the links of iron. I stopped and leaned against the cage.
The time on my HUD showed 8:14 AM. We had been traveling for a few hours while unconscious, I guessed. I watched the time creep along.
8:15 AM.
8:16 AM.
The boon of timekeeping had become a curse. Seconds felt like hours. Minutes felt like years. I minimized the time display as I looked around for something — anything — that could help get us out of this predicament. There was nothing within reach of my bound hands or feet.
Abernathy stirred, rolled over to face us, and sat up. He looked around, but he wasn’t really seeing. His face was still locked in that same dazed expression.
We rode for what felt like an eternity over progressively bumpier terrain. I fought the urge to pull up the time interface as I allowed myself to enter a state of semi-consciousness. I wanted to be ready when an opportunity presented itself.
Our jostling trek stopped and I heard the human curse. It sounded like he was on the ground outside of the wagon.
“Damned tree fell.” He said.
“Then move it, Banksy!” the elven woman replied. Her voice came from the front of the wagon, likely in the driver seat.
The human cursed more, complaining about unmaintained back roads. I pulled up the time.
10:45 AM.
I minimized it until the cart began rolling again an hour later. Then minimized it again.
I heard a faint scratching at the top of the covered wagon sometime later. I looked up, opening the clock screen as I did.
2:45 PM.
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The scratching continued, then several small, sharp teeth pierced the fabric at the top of the wagon, pulling at it and tearing a small hole.
The sound was gentle, muted by the creaking wagon wheels and mild winds that buffeted the wagon from outside.
A familiar, small falcon peeked its head into the opening. Lesh.
I was confused for a moment, falcons didn’t have fangs to my knowledge. Then another familiar form pushed Lesh aside and stuck its head in the hole, looking around. The kitsiho’s small, white face glanced around. It eyed the three of us and wiggled in, landing with an almost feline-like grace on top of the middle cage.
Lesh dropped in a moment later and looked around expectantly. He made a sound, seeing only the three of us. A soft, nearly imperceptible keen.
The kitsiho walked across the top of the cages, stopping above mine to sniff. It wrinkled its snout, moving its head away disapprovingly, before hopping down in front of the cage. It sniffed at the lock, reaching up and laying a paw on it.
Lesh stopped hopping around the inside of the wagon, flying out of the small hole the kitsiho had made. I heard him call, a soaring “Keeaaar’ high above and ahead of us.
“Oy, you see that little hawk up there, Madame Huay?” Banksy asked.
“Aye, loud little thing isn’t it?” she replied.
“Ten silver I can shoot it down.”
“Make it fifteen. And you only get three tries.”
“Aw now that’s just not fair! I just got this crossbow back at Vildenak not two months back!”
“Not my problem, Banksy. Three tries is all I will bet on. You should have practiced more if you wanted to place bets on shooting a small sky chicken.”
The kitsiho stopped pawing at the lock while they spoke, tilting its head to the side as it listened for a second. It nuzzled the lock with its nose, and a tendril of white energy curled from the tip of the fox’s nose and into the lock.
A second later the lock popped open with a soft tchk. The kitsiho removed the lock with its mouth and entered the cage as I gently pushed it open.
I sat up and moved around, giving it access to the manacles locked around my wrist. A few seconds later my hands, wrists and ankles were free. I reached up and pulled the gag out of my mouth, crouching low and whispering to the kitsiho.
“Thank you,can you help my friends?” the fox looked over to the other two cages, sniffed and tilted its head, then turned back to me. It nuzzled my hand, the one it had not bitten.
I raised the hand and it bit me. The little shit bit me again. I struggled to contain a shout of pain as its fangs sank into the fleshy bits between my thumb and forefinger, the same location it had bitten me on the other hand days before.
I was partially successful, groaning in surprise and anger.
It released the bite, and... a message appeared. As if from a player.
I heard the message in my head as I read it. The voice was distinctly male, if young.
Chanter: Wait, you can talk? I mean… message?
Katarina stared at the two of us, her eyes enormous circles. The kitsiho made its way out of my cage and began working on her lock.
Chanter: This is a friend of mine, the one I told you guys about. He is going to help us.
The kitsiho made short work of the lock and had Katarina loose in seconds, moving to Abernathy.
Katarina: What are we going to do? How can we get away?
The dull thwung of a crossbow being fired sounded outside. Banksy cursed and Madame Huay laughed.
“That’s one miss!” She called.
The man’s voice came from very close to the wagon. His close proximity gave me an idea, remembering the still primed bomb that Abernathy had given me the day before.
Chanter: I have an idea. I’m going to loot everything in here and we need to get away. I’m going to blow them to hell.
Katarina: Okay. Abernathy doesn’t seem well. Abernathy, are you alright?
Abernathy didn’t respond. The fox had unlocked his cage and manacles, and the beastkin had reached up and removed the gag, but he still sat, staring ahead at nothing.
Chanter: We will in a second, thank you. I need to get our things first, they are up in the front of the cart.
I looked around the cart. There was no space between the walls of the cages and the cart canopy, aside from a small gap at the top where it arched over the square cages. I thought I could squeeze between them.
He leapt atop the cages and scurried effortlessly to the front. He touched his nose to one of the chests and a notification appeared in front of me.
Loot Wooden Chest?
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