Free Redemption of Thieves (Book 4) by C.Greenwood

interrupted our argument to speak a few words. Although I understood none of the exchange between them, I sensed the younger man was being rebuked.
    After a pause, the chastened young Skeltai grumbled, “My grandfather wishes to return the talk to our bargain.”
    I leaned forward. “You have already told me if the bow were yours, you would use it as a powerful weapon against my province. How then can you expect me to willingly give it up to you? No, I’ll never do that. Tell the old man if he’s interested in making any other kind of bargain, I’m willing to talk. I’ll trade him almost anything he wishes to buy the freedom of my companions. But the bow I will not give up.”
    Cannot give up, I amended inwardly.I doubted I could separate myself from the bow if I tried. But there was no reason for my enemies to know this.
    Shooting me a scorching look, my interpreter passed on this information to the shaman.
    The old man turned cold eyes on me and my resolve almost weakened with sudden fear. When he spoke his voice was like a dash of ice-water.
    “My grandfather says,” I was told, “that he has no other bargain for you. If you will not pass the bow into our hands, we will offer both you and it as a gift to our gods. Maybe such a large sacrifice will incline the gods to our favor and they will see fit to give us victory over our enemies without the barra-banac.”
    I could tell by the wild expression of the old shaman he was mad enough to carry out his threat. But even now I didn’t consider complying with their wishes. What I needed, I thought frantically, was to buy myself more time. Time for escape, for rescue. Time for a miracle…
    I said, “We can play at this game all night but you’ll not change my mind.”
    “Then you will burn on the fires of Sagara Nouri and the corpses of your friends will be the kindling at your feet.”
    There wasn’t much I could say to that, but I clung to the shreds of my determination and wouldn’t allow myself to contemplate the picture he painted.
    My captors conferred together, and when my interpreter turned back to me, he said, “It has been decided you will be given the opportunity to consider the shaman’s offer and to imagine the fate you will suffer if you refuse it. But your time must be short for the rites begin at the mid-point of the night.”
    He called in the pair of savages lurking in the background and I was hauled unceremoniously from the hut and out into the black of the night.

 
     
     
Chapter Six
     
     
    In the surrounding darkness, I had only a brief impression of thick, shadowy trees reaching out to clutch at me with their sharp branches as I was maneuvered down a beaten path away from the little hut. It was difficult to make out my surroundings in much detail. The dense canopy overhead blotted out all but the most determined slivers of moonlight, so it was as if I stumbled around in a dark closet with only the aid of my captors to keep my feet on the path.
    When we came into a narrow clearing, I could identify a little more of what was before me because of a faint orangey glow flickering through the dense foliage in the distance. I couldn’t see what lay in the larger clearing beyond this, and wondered if the firelight I was glimpsing through the trees was from the same fires meant to consume my body and those of my companions during the coming blood rites.
    I pushed the thought from my mind. Escape was what I had to concentrate on, not the consequences if I failed to achieve that goal. I looked around and noted the area was ringed with rows of large cages that looked much like outdoor prison cells constructed of wooden bars.
    I was hauled to the nearest of these and made to stand waiting in the care of one of my guards, as the other deftly unlatched and opened the door. Should I break free and run? But no, the savage’s hold on me was firm. Besides, my hands remained bound. The opportunity passed as I was seized and hurled roughly into the