“Aye, sir.” They manhandled Garlain through the bushes.
Kieri moved silently alongside Bree.
“Kieri, hurry inside and see what’s happened to Morla,” Bree said.
Kieri took off at a run and Bree grunted. She should have gotten the key from her.
“As soon as she comes back out, I’ll set you all free,” she said to the prisoners and crept back to her place at the corner of the cage.
Drimpal’s mouth twisted in a slimy toothless sneer as he glared at Horland. “You are not needed. Your life is forfeit.”
He raised his sword and Bree gasped. She slapped her hand over her mouth. Her pulse thundered in her temples and she couldn’t think straight. Her only thought was that Horland was going to die. She ran out of her cover. “Wait.”
Drimpal stayed his hand and turned. “Ah, the pretty thing. You would have me not kill the knight?”
“Yes, no.” Bree clasped her hands in front of her chest. “Please don’t kill him.”
She chewed her bottom lip as he played the tip of the sword along Horland’s neck.
Hoping for a miracle, Bree glanced at the wagon, but the prisoners were still in place. She could just make out the hem of Kieri’s dress peeking out from the other side of the wagon. Mayland appeared to be begging Kieri to open the cage door. Why had Kieri come back so quickly?
Morla was still nowhere in sight.
Drimpal focused on Horland. “We have no more time for games.” He pierced Big Red with a look. “Perlos, have the ship ready to sail.”
Red gave Bree a slimy-green-toothed smile and ducked back into the bushes.
Drimpal pushed the tip of his sword into Horland’s neck. Blood pooled around the steel.
Bree’s heart flipped and she cried out. “No.”
Drimpal turned his head. “Be silent.”
“Please, Drimpal,” Bree said, her heart thumped against her ribs and made it hard to breathe. Would he really kill Horland? She gaped at the fiend. Yes, yes, he would. She couldn’t let that happen, she couldn’t see Horland be killed,her heart and soul couldn’t take it. “If,” She pulled in a quick breath. “If you let him go, I, I’ll go with you.”
Drimpal leered at her. “You will freely walk onto the ship, come to my bed?”
“No,” Horland shouted.
“Yes.,” Bree said, walked to the slaver’s side imploring Horland to be quiet with her eyes.
Horland shook his head and cast her a pleading gaze. “No.”
Perlos, the red-haired brute, reappeared. “Something is wrong, Drimpal” He jabbed his finger in the direction of the river. “The ship,” he swallowed. “The ship is sinking.”
Drimpal grabbed Bree, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her elbow. He flipped his sword and as he passed behind Horland, he brought the pummel down on the back of his head. Horland fell forward.
Bree screamed, “No.” She tried to squirm out of the slaver’s grasp, but his hold strengthened, and he pulled her along with him into the thorny bushes.
“Horland,” Bree cried out.
As she was dragged through the bushes, all Bree could think about was Horland. She didn’t believe he was dead, but she knew beyond a certainty that he was unconscious and therefore unable to come to her rescue. No one else could either. They didn’t have weapons. It was once again up to her to save herself.
Most of the branches were on the ground, broken, from the toing and froing of his men, but some stubborn branches remained, and their thorns found their way into Bree’s face and neck.
She didn’t have a chance to see how bad her injuries were because Drimpal continued to drag her with him. Bree stumbled at the sight of the great mast’s tilt as the bow dipped slowly into the river.
Drimpal didn’t slow until he was on the small wharf. He hauled Bree up the gangplank, pulling her arm forward and nearly pulling it right out of its socket. Bree cried out.
