His Human Hellion (Ultimate Passage Book 2) (12 page)

The ground had an incline, they were going up, up a mountain. In the darkness, Finn tried to get his bearings, but this wasn’t an area he was familiar with. Were they closer to the Farlands? He left markings where he could, scuffing tree bark and breaking branches. All of these were markers he would use to get him back to where they subdued him. That was the last place that he’d tracked Marissa. He was wary for the moment they would drop their guard, that was when he would make his escape. If he had to kill them, he would, though he’d rather not. For all that they were Kormic, they’d not treated him poorly. This in itself was confusing, Kormic were supposed to be a ruthless mercenary enemy. There was something different about these two Kormic.

As the ground became steeper, it was harder to climb, the incline became a mountain. He wanted to ask them where they were taking him, but he didn’t want to give away his emotions or anxiety. The mountain now blocked the moon, leaving them in a darkness that was barely lit by the hidden moon. Before him was a darkness that revealed a thicket of trees
blocking his view, they wove their way through the thicket, Finn stumbled over roots and rocks, unable to catch himself as he fell forward, his face destined to take the greatest brunt until he shifted to land on his shoulder.

The trees yielded the entrance of a cave.

“In.” The first Kormic ordered him.

Finn stumbled in the shallow cave. He turned around to face the
Kormic. They were closing a door that had bars.

“Why am I here?”

“We’re going to talk to Raiza to see what she wants to do.”

Finn wondered who this Raiza was.

“Don’t attract attention to yourself while we are gone human. We are not the worst ones you can encounter out here.”

Finn was pretty sure they weren’t lying. He had no intention of attracting any attention, he had other plans, like getting out of here.

As soon as he had confirmed their footsteps were departing and silence had fallen, Finn began to feel around the bars and their hinges. The hinges were attached to a stone wall. He knew that pulling on them wouldn’t serve him, but that didn’t stop him from trying. He tugged on the bars near the top. Just as he thought, to no avail. He tried the hinges near the bottom. Same failure. He felt around the floor. Rocks. Hardly any soil to dig through. Not like he had anything to dig with anyway, they took his weapons. Rising, Finn bit back the roar of frustration, grasping at the bars, he jerked on them, yanking over and over until his muscles gave out. Shoulders aching, hands shaking, he collapsed to the floor, the bars that held him prisoner supported him, the only thing that kept him from completely collapsing to the floor.

Rage spent, adrenalin cratering, Finn paced the rest of the night. Tight circles of walking close to the walls, all the way to the back of the cave, feeling around in the dark, checking out every crevice, nook, and corner, only to find that there was nothing in there. Nothing but a burning desire to escape.

*~*~*

Dawn brought a thick mist that concealed anything past the front line of trees of the forest beyond. Finn peered through the bars, trying to see what lay beyond the thickness.

He jumped back when a figure stepped in front of him from off to the side. “
Curses.”

It was a
Kormic. Finn stayed in place, eyes locked with the being on the other side of the bars. A female. Finn had never seen a female Kormic up close before. Kormic women did not serve in battles. He’d always found the Kormic unattractive, with their raised humplike spines that covered their temples, forehead, and scalp, but there was something striking about this Kormic.

She leveled a steady gaze at him with
yellow-orange eyes that bore no hostility. Attired in clothing made of the thick bark of a native Farlands tree, pounded and woven into a material that deflected all Asazi blades except the TripTip.
Why would a Kormic female have a garment made of the fabric used on Kormic soldier uniforms?
It clung to her figure, clearly tailor-made. Since when did Kormic attire their women in weapon-proof uniforms? She still hadn’t said a word, but her eyes never wavered from his. She held a bowl of steaming broth and chunks of vegetables and meat.

“There is no reason to hold me,” Finn said. “I’m not an Asazi soldier and no Asazi will care I’m gone.” He hoped he didn’t butcher the Kormic words to the degree she didn’t understand him.

Something flickered in her eyes. Understanding? She looked at his uniform, pointedly. She understood him, alright, and she recognized his Asazi uniform.

“Stolen. I took this off of a soldier.” Would she believe his lie?

Her eyes said she didn’t, but they didn’t hold malice over the lie.

“I need to get out of here.
It is important.” Was she even someone who had the authority to make a decision about a prisoner? Even if she did, he doubted she’d let him go. “Who do you answer to?”

Instead of responding, she pushed the bowl closer. The bottom half of her face, with its human features was patrician. Sculpted jawline, aquiline nose, slightly full lips. Her poise was unafraid, not even curious, as though she saw
Asazi regularly. Finn reached through the bars, taking the boat-shaped, elongated bowl, careful not to spill the sustenance his body desperately needed.

“Thank you,” he said in
Asazi.

She nodded in welcome.

“So you do understand my language.” He said in Kormic.

She narrowed her eyes. Was the glint in her gaze anger or a reluctant admiration that he’d tricked her into revealing something about herself?

“Please. I need your help. I have to get out of here. You don’t understand, a life is at stake.”

She spun around,
her bearing proud, and vanished into the thick tree cover and even thicker mist. Stunned, all Finn could do was stare after her.
What just happened?
Was it his request? His plea for help? Finn raised the bowl to his lips, took a long draw. The broth was delicious, with a hint of unfamiliar herbs not used in Asazi cuisine. He set the bowl down on the floor. He had more important things to do than eat, though his stomach’s grumblings protested to the contrary.

Finn scanned the environment. The fog was thinning, allowing a
glimpse of the thick forest they’d trekked through the night before. He climbed on the bars and tried to look through the top half of the door. Over the tops of the trees he could see a barren mountain range, devoid of flora or fauna.
The Farlands.
They weren’t far away. He tried to glean any other information about who could be around and what sort of place he was in, but that was all he could see. The Farlands in the distance and a thick forest up close.

Finn ate the meat and vegetable in the broth, pondering his options. There were none, unless he could get out of here. The sun rose, while he ate, bathing the den in brightness, allowing light into the deepest corners of the cave.
Now he could examine the depths of his prison. He was disappointed. A bare cave, void of signs of human habitation. No bedding, no shelving, no furniture, hardly used. They couldn’t have built this for him, it would take too long to assemble, but they barely seemed to use it.

And so it went for
the next meal. Time passed, the woman delivered the food. Didn’t say a word, left the bowl with Finn, and never collected the first one. He ate the broth and vegetables, leaving the meat for last. Popping a chunk in his mouth, Finn studied the bowl, then looked at the ground. Taking the bowl from this morning, he went to the rocky ground near the entrance. Could he excavate his way out? It was rocky, but was it solid? He broke the bowl in half lengthwise, creating two rough spades.

He scraped at the rock with the bowl. Soft porous rock. Not too soft, though. “Curses.” The bowl-half chipped, then cracked down the middle. Grabbing the other half, he
chiseled a few more times, loosening some dirt. He studied the bowl for signs of wear. He worked at the ground for a few hours, cracked that makeshift spade too, then broke the second bowl in half and went at it again. Sweat dripped down his forehead and between his wings. His stomach growled. He looked up just in time to see the woman exiting the forest, headed his way, with his third meal. Finn jumped up, stood on the ground he’d dug a half-inch deep hole into, trying to hide the telltale signs of his labor.

She brought him the soup, held the bowl out, and turned on her heel as soon as he’d taken it.

“Wait.”

The woman froze.

“Please, can I get some bedding?”
Something to hide the digging.
Though at the pace he was working, he feared it would take him many days to get through. Days that Marissa couldn’t afford.

She nodded.
Unsure when she would return, and not wanting to get caught, Finn leaned against the cave’s wall, next to the door, stretched his legs down the length of the bars, conveniently hiding his efforts. He ate the bowl of soup, crossed his arms over his chest and let his eyes close, knowing full well that he wouldn’t sleep, just like he hadn’t slept since Marissa left.

He didn’t have long to wait, she returned less than thirty minutes later with two blankets and a sack full of leaves to use for cushion. She placed them on the ground just outside the barred door, careful not to be within Finn’s reaching distance. Just as quickly, she was gone, before he could voice his thanks.

Stomach full, with one more bowl to add to the digging cause, Finn resumed. He worked the whole night through, only stopping when the last bowl-spade cracked. He ran his fingers along the hole, two inches deep. Almost two foot wide. Using the spade and his hands as shovels, he scooped the extra dirt onto the blanket and carried it to the back of the cave, scattering it, then shuffling over it to make it blend in. that task complete, he went back to the hole, prying at it with the ends of the multi-split bowl fragments, using them as chisels he loosened and hacked at the ground. The sun’s rays slowed his routine down, now he glanced up often to be sure that the woman wasn’t returning with a morning meal.

Dawn again brought a thick mist.
A voice came to the back of the den. Higher pitched, but with a low volume. He crept along the cave’s side, thinking that the sound didn’t seem one that would come from the Kormic woman. When he reached entrance of the cave, Finn lowered himself to one knee and peeked out of the door, careful not to stick his head too close to the corner, so he could see if someone were trying to attack him.

The voice was singin
g. A low lullaby song, a childlike song. Crouching lower, Finn scanned the trees. There it was! A child. A little Kormic child, playing amongst the trees, rustling the leaves and ground cover, kneeling, playing in the dirt, oblivious to being watched.

Finn looked for his warden, the
Kormic woman. No sign of her. Was she related to the child? Did she know he was here?

“Psst.” Finn wasn’t
too loud.

The child looked up. Surprise and shock registered on its Kormic features. It cocked its head, studying Finn. Rising to his feet, he backed away heading toward the forest.

“Come back, kid.” Finn called out, still keeping his voice to a conspiratorial low.

The child backed away until it was out of sight. “Damn.” Finn paused. That was Marissa’s curse word. When did he pick it up? A fresh wave of melancholy and despair washed over him. He needed to get to her before anyone hurt her.
The second day passed in much the same way. Three times a day the woman brought him food. The child never reappeared, the woman did not mention the child to him. She ignored Finn’s request to be set free, he dug when he wasn’t being watched, though at this rate the digging wouldn’t yield a hole big enough for his escape for another week. A week he wasn’t sure Marissa had.

The woman
brought Finn the bowl. Holding it near the bars, Finn still contemplated how he could convince her to lend him a measure of assistance, approaching the barred door, he touched a finger to the bowl’s lip, not wrapping his hand around it. She stood closer than the other days, almost as if she didn’t mistrust him as much.

A sharp cry pierced the forest’s serene atmosphere.
A child broke through the forest’s cover. The same child as before. As it approached, Finn noted it was a boy-child.

“Lein, Lein,” the boy-child yelled. Lein, the Kormic word for mother. “
Par will not allow me to hunt. He said I could when I turned five summers. You heard him promise, but now he says no.”

In a matter of seconds, Finn processed a few things. First, that the child was not full Kormic. It had Asazi wings and Asazi skin, though its forehead and scalp had the Kormic bumpy knob-spikes. The second thing Finn noticed, the child said
Par
, the Asazi word for father. Finn tried to wrap his mind around the existence of an Asazi-Kormic child that called its father the Asazi word for father.

The Kormic woman stumbled back, possibly from the surprise of her son running out.

Instinct took over. Finn shoved his hands through the bars, grabbed the woman from behind, and pulled her tight against the bars and his body. “I will break your neck in front of the boy if you struggle or scream. Nod that you understand.”