CHAPTERFIVE
Elsy
Elsy listened to the horse’s steady movements along the path and the wind rustling through the field. Her eyes closed as she lulled in and out of sleep. She had tried to remain awake, worrying that the brigand would try something the moment he realized she was asleep. However, her body wouldn’t listen to her. Every time she awakened, she felt his hands in the same place, covering her own, keeping her warm. And every time she tried to keep her eyes open, she would find herself asleep once more, dreaming of simpler times.
The subtle clip-clop alerted her they were no longer walking on grass. It sounded as if the horses were walking on cobblestone. Elsy groaned, shifting on the horse, wondering briefly if everything had been a terrible dream.
The wind changed, yet her body was still chilled by the air. It was night. She could tell that much. The darkness surrounding her had grown even blacker long before. She didn’t know the time, nor where she was, but she could tell by the brigand’s ease, the tension releasing in his arms, that they had made it to wherever home was for them.
The horse’s steps slowed to a stop, and she felt shifting from behind. The brigand was dismounting. She waited for his hands, flinched when she felt them around her waist. For a moment, all she felt were those hands until her feet met the ground. She wobbled for a moment. Her legs were stiff from little use. Her body ached, but her mind was awake, listening, waiting for when she could manage another attempt at escape.
“Brann,” the brigand called, his hands gentle on her shoulders as he guided her forward. “Take her. Make sure she doesn’t get away.” There was a hint of laughter in his tone.
“Of course,” said Brann. She flinched as she felt his hand grabbing her arm.
Slowly, she stepped forward. Indeed, cobblestones were under her feet. She could feel the cracks between the blocks as she moved, stepping carefully, assessing each and every one to ensure she didn’t fall or trip.
“There are steps here,” said Brann softly. “Three in total.”
“I could walk easier if ye removed the bag,” Elsy said as she used her right foot to feel the step in front of her.
“I fear I cannot do that.”
“And why is that?” Elsy asked haughtily. She took the first step and then the next.
“Because then ye would know the way.”
Elsy took the last step. She heard creaking in front of her and assumed there was a door. Brann led her inside. The smell of mold made her nose wrinkle in disgust. She struggled with her bindings, wishing to cover her nose. Even with the bag over her head, the smell was strong. A small gasp made her head jerk to the side.
“Is that her?” someone breathed, sounding like a child.Why would a child be working with a group of brigands?Elsy wondered with a frown, saddened to think that a child would be reduced to such tragedy they would be forced into work with such foul people.
“Be a good lad and bring up a bucket of water, would ye, Scotty?”
“But I thought she was to go to the dungeons.”
Brann sighed and Elsy waited for his answer, curious to hear their plan for her.
“There’s been a wee change,” said Brann simply before tugging Elsy’s arm toward the right.
Elsy tried to pay attention to all the twists and turns, but the place was like a maze. She couldn’t remember all the turns and she wondered if Brann was purposefully taking his time in order to confuse her. It wasn’t until they made it up the final staircase that she was ushered inside a room. The door clicked closed behind her. She could hear the lock falling into place. Silence greeted her and she wondered briefly if she was alone in this room.
Her body stilled as the bag was pulled from her head and she found herself in a room, neither too small nor too big, with a large window overlooking the forest surrounding the estate. Candles, littering the table to her left, flickered. Next to the table sat a chair, tilting on a bad leg. A small trunk rested in a corner beneath the window. She jerked around, finding the brigand, still cloaked with his face covered. Her hands twisted in her bounds as he approached her.
“If ye dare touch me,” she whispered venomously as she took a step back. “I will kill ye or myself. I will do all I can to make sure ye suffer and I do not.” She swallowed her sob, her body trembling as she took another step away from Brann.
“I won’t harm ye,” he said while holding up his hands. “Trust me.”
“Trust ye?” Elsy whispered harshly. “How can I trust ye when ye took me? When ye killed my men?”
Brann sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Ye can trust me with this. I would never take a woman against her wishes. I merely want to cut yer bindings.” Brann slowly crouched, taking out the knife in his boot. He held it up for Elsy to see, the light from the candles making the metal gleam. “See?”
Elsy jutted out her chin, still not believing him. “Show me yer face,” she said, her tone commanding.
“Ye know I can’t do that.”
Elsy laughed bitterly. “Then I will not allow ye to approach.” She angled herself, ready to kick him if need be.
With a frustrated sigh, Brann pulled down the cloth covering his nose and mouth, revealing a freckled face. Elsy’s lips parted as she gazed at those doe brown eyes and the plump cheeks of someone too young to be a brigand. He was younger than her by at least a few summers.
