It didn’t matter how powerful one was, how well versed in magic or decorated in fighting—gaffaw bark, once deeply inhaled, got the best of all. Which was why it was illegal in most of Aadilor.
“Sticks,” cursed Niya, right as her knees gave out and she hit the ground. Hot stone smacked against her cheek. The edge of her basket, filled with items for home, now forgotten by her side. As the green smoke dissipated and her vision blurred, boots stepped before her. All of them were dirty. Covered in scuffs and marks, the leather peeling back from soles. And is that a toe peeking out? Niya felt a slip of annoyance that a group that took such poor care of their footwear could best her, and so quickly. But then her annoyance faded to nothing as her eyes rolled back and she tumbled into darkness.
CHAPTER THREE
Niya woke to a gentle rocking. The screech of gulls soaring high above and the rhythmic splashes of oars cutting through waves. Her head throbbed as the residual effects of the gaffaw bark lingered, and she swallowed against the dryness of her throat.
Lying on her side, Niya found her hands were bound at the wrists behind her back, in what she could only assume was the belly of a rowboat. Her view was obscured by a moldy sack smelling of fish, but she caught tiny pinpricks of daylight shining through the stitching of the bag. Her shoulders ached from her unnatural positioning, and her legs felt sticky and heavy beneath her skirts, as if the material were still drying after being soaked by water. A warm breeze filtered across her neck, stirring the silk sleeve of her dress. The cloak she had been wearing appeared to be no longer with her.
At least I’m still clothed, she thought.
Her magic slowly stirred awake in her belly as she grew more conscious.
Burn, it hissed groggily, and then, Killlll, it demanded, hot and impatient as it woke fully.
Yes, yes, thought Niya placatingly. In due time. First she had to figure out where, by the lost gods, she was—and why and thanks to whom. Then she could burn and kill and laugh in the face of whoever would be so idiotic as to kidnap a creature like her.
She had not recognized any of the thieves. Their clothes weren’t identifiable as any Jabari gang she was aware of. Yet their actions had surely been organized by someone. Her capture had been quick, precise, using a substance that left little room for error. But who would want to steal her away? If their intentions had been to rob, they would have merely taken all her possessions and slit her throat or left her to wake long after they’d gone. Was it possible they recognized her as the daughter of the Count of Raveet? Was this to be a kidnapping for ransom?
How boring, thought Niya.
Refocusing on her surroundings, she decided she was definitely surrounded by water, salt water, if the birds and smell were any indication. Which meant she was most likely floating on the Obasi Sea. Given it was the only sea in all of Aadilor.
But the question remained: How far from shore were they? And which shore? And how far from Jabari? Or any recognizable place?
Okay, so there were a few more answers Niya needed.
The first, she decided, was how many occupied their boat. The seven thieves who had started all this?
Closing her eyes, Niya forced herself to relax, first her muscles, then her mind. She let the rocking of the boat seep into her skin, let the water hitting up against the sides caress her magic, which responded to motion. Her powers flowed, warm and pleased at finally being used, tingling through her entire body as she expanded her senses further, feeling the energy a hand gave off as it wiped sweat from a brow, the strong rowing of arms. She cataloged the inhales and exhales. Four souls sat around her. Two by her head, two by her feet.
Four . . . I can take four.
Subtly pulling against her bound wrists, she tested the ropes’ strength. They were tight, but her fingers were free enough to do damage.
Quietly now, instructed Niya to her magic as she fluttered her fingers. There were slithers of liquid heat in her veins as a small flame awakened at her fingertip. Niya forced her breathing steady, her senses prickled to those around her. She had to do this fast, before they smelled the burning of the rope or saw that she indeed held fire. After all, one’s advantage lay in surprise.
The boat thunked against another object, shifting Niya to roll onto her back. Her flame was snuffed out, her ropes remaining too tight to break.
Sticks, she silently cursed.
Niya felt her companions stir. The heavy footfalls of boots against the boat’s wooden floor, the sound of rope being cinched, and the muttering of voices.
Her pulse continued to thump loud in her ears as rough arms lifted her.
“Oy, she’s a heavy one,” a man grunted by her head.
“Did you think she’d get lighter on the way over?” came a woman’s reply as she grabbed her ankles.
Niya’s annoyance prickled hot.
“Then let me lighten your load,” Niya ground out as she slammed her slippered heel into the girl’s face. There was a satisfying crunch of a nose breaking. The woman cursed as she fell back, dropping Niya’s legs.
All that diligent kidnapping, and the fools didn’t take care to tie her feet together.
With her senses buzzing, Niya backward headbutted the man still gripping her shoulders, her skull smarting with the contact.
There was a splash of water, the man falling in, as Niya landed in the belly of the boat. Rolling to her feet, she breathed hard as she found her balance, concentrating on the rest of the surrounding waves of movement. The dirty sack covering her head was insufferable!
A ripple of energy from a hand reaching for her caused Niya to spin around before slamming her shoulder into the culprit’s side. A yip of surprise followed by another splash. Niya backed up, tripping on items by her feet, before steadying once more in the swaying boat. Her arms groaned at remaining bound behind her, the sun streaming in dizzyingly through the small holes in her head covering. Sensing another presence pushing up from in front—Niya kicked out.
But this time, strong hands grabbed her ankle, blocking.
“You’ll be paying for that, girl,” hissed the woman whose nose she had smashed. She twisted Niya’s leg, sending her spinning.
Niya was suspended in air for what felt like a full sand fall before the slap of cold water enveloped her.
Her mind screamed in disorientation as the sting of salt water filled her nostrils and throat. She thrashed in panic, her eyes blinking open, but the sack was still over her head, not allowing her to see which way was up.
Tucking in her legs as tightly as she could, she managed to slip her hands in front, her shoulder sockets burning.
By the Obasi Sea, let me live through this.
Just then, there was a strong tug to her dress’s bodice, part of the material ripping as she was hauled backward. Four pairs of hands dragged her over the side of the boat, the hard wooden edge digging and scratching into her hip.
Niya coughed and wheezed against the material of the bag, drenched and stuck over her face.
“Take this blasted thing off me!” She wriggled and fought against the unforgiving grip of her captors.
“A spicy one, she is,” grunted a man as they held her down.
Niya’s energy felt frayed, a damp mess spread too thin at the commotion. She desperately tried to rein it in, pull in the pieces that groped for clarity. At least enough to cast some sort of spell. Anything to blast these bastards off her. But there were limbs and hands and weight pinning her from every angle. “I will kill you all!” she screamed before a rough hand slammed over her mouth.
She bit it, hard, through the sack, and her teeth punctured skin.
A howl of pain before another hand smacked her skull against the bottom of the boat.
Her vision blurred.
Grunts of her attackers holding her down filled her ears as Niya desperately took in a lungful of air.
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.