Chapter 9: The Ambush

The wagon lurched forward. The chain clinked against the iron ring.

Elinalise pressed her back against the wooden partition. Through the gaps between the planks she watched the courtyard recede in slices and slivers. Crell and Adrion turned away, already discussing something else. Captain Varek mounted a horse near the front of the column. The convoy began to move with a groaning of axles and a jangle of harnesses.

She tried to map the route in her mind. The northern road out of the city wound through the foothills for a day before entering the Blackwood Pass. That pass was narrow, carved through ancient rock. Varek had mentioned rockfalls and narrow passes as potential opportunities. She had assumed he meant natural hazards. Now, locked in a box, she wondered how any opportunity could reach her.

The muted ache in her core was a constant presence. It felt like a fist wrapped in thick wool, clenching and unclenching slowly inside her. The absence of the sharp heat was a relief, but this dull pressure was somehow more insidious. It didn’t demand attention. It just sat there, a heavy reminder of what was suppressed. Her wrists where the silver touched skin felt unnaturally cold, as if the metal was drawing warmth out of her body and leaving a hollow chill behind.

She tested the chain. Bren had left enough slack for her to sit upright or lie down, but not enough to stand fully or reach the wagon’s barred door. The chain links were thick, the padlock substantial. The manacles themselves fit snugly, their inner cuffs smooth and cool. She tried to twist her wrists, to see if she could slip a hand free. The metal held firm.

The wagon rolled on. The sounds of the convoy filtered through the wood: the steady clop of hooves on cobbles, the creak of leather, the occasional shouted order from a sergeant. They were still within the city. The light coming through the gaps shifted as they passed buildings, then brightened as they moved through open gates.

Then the cobbles gave way to packed earth. The ride grew rougher, the wagon jolting over ruts. Each bounce sent a shock up her spine and made the chain rattle.

She lost track of time. There was only the rocking motion, the ache, the cold on her wrists. She tried to focus on planning, but plans required variables she couldn’t see or influence. How many guards rode alongside her wagon? Where exactly was Varek? Would he try to communicate? The partition at her back separated her from the front section of the wagon, where other cargo was stored. She could hear nothing from that space except the occasional shift of something heavy when the wagon tilted.

The convoy stopped twice. Both times, she heard men dismounting, the sounds of water being passed around, low conversations she couldn’t make out. Nobody came to check on her. The second stop lasted longer. She heard Varek’s voice somewhere ahead, crisp and commanding, giving instructions about the pace. Then movement resumed.

The light through the gaps began to dim. Afternoon was fading into evening. They had been traveling for hours.

She must have dozed, lulled by the monotonous motion. A sharper jolt woke her. The wagon was ascending an incline. The sounds of hoof falls changed, echoing slightly. They were entering a cut in the landscape, probably the beginning of the foothills.

The ache in her core pulsed, a little stronger. She frowned, shifting against the partition. Was the suppression weakening? Or was her own fatigue lowering whatever resistance she had? She took a slow breath, trying to gauge it. The pressure remained dull, but there was a new thread of warmth within it, thin and persistent.

A shout echoed from ahead. It wasn’t a routine order. It held alarm.

The wagon slowed abruptly. Elinalise grabbed the chain to steady herself. More shouts followed, overlapping. A horse whinnied in protest. She scrambled to her knees, pressing her eye to a wider gap in the planks.

Her view was limited to a wedge of rocky ground and the legs of several horses. She saw soldiers dismounting, drawing swords. Someone yelled, “Ambush! Form up!”

Chaosis too clean a word for what happened next. It was a sudden eruption of noise and violence that seemed to come from everywhere at once.

The first arrow thudded into the side of the larger supply wagon ahead with a sound like an axe hitting wood. The second whistled past her own wagon and struck a soldier in the throat. He made a wet gurgling sound and collapsed from his saddle.

Then figures poured from the rocky slopes on either side of the road. They weren’t soldiers in uniform. They wore mismatched leathers and furs, their faces smeared with dirt and soot. Bandits. Dozens of them, swarming down like ants disturbed from a nest.

The convoy column shattered into pockets of fighting. The disciplined Grenville soldiers tried to form defensive circles, but the bandits had momentum and surprise. They crashed into the line with crude axes, clubs, and stolen swords.

Elinalise yanked on her chain instinctively, uselessly. This was chaos. This was an opportunity. And she was chained to the floor of a box.

She saw Captain Varek then, through her narrow viewport. He had his sword out, parrying a blow from a burly bandit who wielded a woodsman’s axe. Varek fought with efficient, brutal strokes, but he was being pushed back toward the wagons by two more attackers.

Where were Crell and Adrion? She couldn’t see them.

A bandit ran past her wagon, heading for the rear of the column where screams and the clash of steel suggested more fighting. He didn’t even glance at her prison.

The noise was overwhelming: metal shrieking against metal, men roaring in pain or rage, horses screaming in panic. The air filled with dust kicked up from the road.

She had to get out now. While everyone was distracted.

She examined the chain where it passed through the iron ring bolted to the floorboards. The ring was solid, riveted deep into the wood. The chain links were welded shut. Her only point of failure was the padlock securing the chain to itself after it looped through the ring.

If she had a tool, a pick, anything metal and slender. She had nothing. Her fingers traced the cold manacles on her wrists. The metal was thick, but the hinge mechanism where the two halves met looked like a potential weakness. If she could smash it against something with enough force…

The wagon shuddered violently as something heavy slammed into its side. A bandit, thrown from his feet by a soldier’s shield bash, crashed against the planks right next to her head. He slid down, leaving a smear of blood on the wood.

Elinalise recoiled, then leaned forward again quickly. The bandit lay stunned on the ground just outside. A long knife had fallen from his belt and lay in the dirt within arm’s reach if she only had another three feet of chain.

She stretched her body flat on the floorboards, extending her legs in the opposite direction to gain every inch of slack. Her fingertips brushed air just above the knife hilt.

A soldier ran past, chasing another bandit, his boot coming down inches from the knife.

She pulled herself back up, heart hammering against her ribs. Think.

Her eyes scanned the interior of the wagon again: rough wooden planks, iron brackets holding them together, thick iron bolts securing the ring to the floor. One of those bolts had a slightly raised head where it had been pounded into place years ago maybe by an inattentive carpenter maybe just worn by age and vibration

Could she use that?

She scooted around positioning herself so that one manacle rested directly over that raised bolt head She lifted her arms as high as she could with chain slack then brought them down sharply driving silver against iron

A dull clang sounded but nothing gave

She did it again putting all her weight behind it Another clang The impact jarred her wrists sending a spike of pain up her forearms The silver showed no mark The bolt head remained

The suppression held The curse inside her gave a muted throb responding maybe to her surge of frustration

Outside Varek had killed one attacker wounded another He was shouting orders trying to rally his men A group of soldiers had formed a shield wall near front wagons holding back wave bandits But more bandits kept coming from rocks

Then she saw mage Adrion

He stood near larger supply wagon protected by two soldiers His grey robes were dusty He held his staff high crystal glowing with soft white light He spoke words she couldn’t hear over din

A bandit rushed him axe raised One protective soldier stepped forward intercepting blow other soldier kept position

Adrion finished his spell

A ripple went through air visible like heat haze expanding from crystal It passed over group bandits who were pressing forward Their movements slowed became sluggish as if wading through deep water Grenville soldiers among them seemed unaffected They cut down confused bandits with sudden efficiency

So Adrion could use magic here His power wasn’t tied to same source as hers or maybe silver only suppressed parasitic curses not learned sorcery

Crell appeared then mounted on horse looking furious He held sword but didn’t seem interested joining fight He yelled at Varek pointing toward rear column where fighting seemed heaviest

Varek nodded barked command sent half his rallied men toward that threat

This split forces further

A new sound cut through battlefield roar of flames

Someone had set fire to one wagons not hers not supply wagon but smaller baggage cart at very back Dry canvas cover caught quickly sending thick black smoke into sky

Panic spread among horses already spooked by noise and blood smell Several broke free from handlers bolting into rocks dragging harnesses behind them

One horse wild-eyed careened sideways slamming into side Elinalise’s wagon

The impact threw her hard against partition wood splintering somewhere near roof The world tilted The wagon rocked up onto two wheels hung there for endless second then crashed back down on its axles with sickening crunch

Dust filled compartment Elinalise coughed blinking through grit Her ears rang

But something had changed

The crash had shifted something beneath floorboards The iron ring bolted there groaned audibly When wagon landed unevenly one corner lower than others she felt whole section floor give slight downward sag

She looked Ring itself still secure but wooden floorboard around it had cracked along grain partly pulling away from neighboring plank creating narrow gap

If floor failed ring would pull free

She didn’t have time for careful work

She got to her knees then braced feet against partition opposite side ignoring ache in legs She grabbed chain with both hands just above padlock She pulled leaning back putting all weight strength into it straining against wood

Muscles in shoulders back arms burned Wood creaked protested Gap didn’t widen

She changed tactic Instead steady pressure she yanked sharply rhythmically throwing weight back each time letting chain go slack between tugs creating series impacts on weakened wood

Creak crack creak

Outside battle raged closer now She saw boots running past gap bandit boots soldier boots indistinguishable in mud Someone fell against wagon door making whole structure shudder

She kept yanking rhythm frantic now sweat stinging eyes mixing with dust on face Silver manacles felt heavier colder each time they jerked against wrists

With final wrenching sound wood gave way not cleanly but with messy splintering The iron ring tore free from floorboards trailing jagged pieces oak still attached to bolt

She was free sort of She still wore manacles chain still attached ring but ring no longer anchored

She scrambled to barred door at rear wagon It was secured from outside with simple latch probably just wooden bar dropped into brackets No lock needed when prisoner chained floor

She could reach latch through bars if could get hands there But chain trailing behind would tangle ring catching on everything

She gathered up chain coiling loops around forearm until held heavy ring itself It was awkward weight but manageable She shuffled to door peered through bars

View rear courtyard chaos Bandits soldiers locked brutal melee few yards away ground littered with bodies wounded men crawling trying to escape trampling hooves Smoke from burning wagon blew across scene making everything hazy indistinct

To left rocky slope rose steeply To right more rocks road disappearing around bend ahead where main fight still centered around Adrion Crell Varek

No one looking at her wagon right now

She reached through bars fingers stretching for latch Her fingertips brushed rough wood bar holding door closed It sat in simple U-shaped brackets Just needed lift up slide out

But brackets were on outside She could push bar up from bottom maybe jostle it loose if lucky

She shoved heel hand upward against bar feeling strain shoulder joint Silver manacle pressed painfully into bone Bar moved fraction inch then stuck

Someone screamed very close Elinalise flinched pulling hand back inside

Bandit stumbled past wagon clutching gut wound He collapsed against door slumping there blocking access

She cursed silently watching through bars as man slid down leaving bloody trail on wood He lay still breathing shallowly right under latch

She couldn’t wait for him to move or die Might be minutes might be seconds before someone else came

Alternative There were gaps between vertical bars wide enough maybe for slender person squeeze through if contorted enough But not with manacles on wrists not with chain coiled around arm

But without anchor she could bring hands front body Manacles connected by short chain maybe foot long enough allow some movement if careful

She worked arms twisting shoulders awkwardly behind back Pain lanced through joints but after moment struggle she managed bring hands around front passing them under hips legs Manacles scraped over trousers chain clinking Now wrists bound together but front chest giving more mobility

Coiled chain around forearm still held ring She let it drop heavy weight dangling from elbow now

Now for bars She picked one gap wider than others estimated width Maybe enough if turned sideways exhaled completely

First she shoved blanket roll through gap letting fall outside ground below Then she positioned herself sideways left shoulder leading pushed head through gap Wood scraped temple Bars pressed chest back She exhaled squeezing shoulders through Sharp edge caught tunic tore fabric but she kept pushing wriggling like fish

Hips were problem Wider than shoulders She twisted angling one hip then other feeling wood dig into flesh bruising already Silver manacles caught on bar behind her She adjusted angle freed them with scrape metal

With final desperate heave she popped through landing half on blanket half on dirt beside dead bandit

Cold evening air hit face smelling smoke blood pine trees She lay there for heartbeat disoriented by sudden space openness after days confined box

Then survival instinct kicked in harder than any curse warmth ever had

She rolled onto knees grabbing dead bandit’s knife from belt where it still rested Fingers closed around leather-wrapped hilt Real solid weight in hand She didn’t pause think just shoved knife through own belt like she seen soldiers do

Chain still dangled from manacles ring clinking against ground She scooped it up stuffing loops into front tucking them awkwardly so wouldn’t trip over it Looked ridiculous probably sounded worse but had no time for neat solutions

Which way?

Back toward city meant traveling through occupied territory with Grenville patrols likely searching for escaped prisoners after this mess Forwards meant deeper into wilderness following road bandits might control now Up slope meant rough terrain maybe hiding places maybe cliffs

Up slope won

She pushed away from wagon keeping low using smoke haze cover Ran toward rocky incline not straight up but angling across seeking cover behind boulders Her legs felt weak from days inactivity but adrenaline fueled them burning through fatigue like cheap tallow

Shouts continued behind No one yelled about escaped prisoner yet They were too busy staying alive

She reached first large boulder pressed back against cool stone panting Risked glance back over shoulder

Battle still raging but seemed turning Grenville discipline reasserting itself despite initial shock Soldiers now fought in tighter units cutting down disorganized bandits Mage Adrion cast another spell this time sending blast force that knocked three bandits off feet Captain Varek led countercharge driving wedge into bandit center Crell still on periphery directing like overseer at harvest

Her wagon stood abandoned door open gaping dark hole No one near it yet But soon someone would check secure prisoner find empty compartment raise alarm Then they would come after her Silver manacles made tracking easy maybe Adrion could sense them Who knew what magic he possessed

She turned began climbing slope proper using hands when balance demanded ignoring scrape of rocks on palms Steepness increased quickly forcing slower pace picking footholds carefully Chain kept slipping out tunic dangling threatening to snag on scrub brush She stopped yanked it free wound around waist like crude belt tucking ring into fold It was uncomfortable heavy but secure less noisy

Halfway up slope she heard new sound cutting through diminishing battle noise Horn blast short long short Grenville signal probably rally recall regrouping

She didn’t look back Kept climbing muscles screaming lungs burning for air that tasted like ash and panic