I visited Heather’s blog here for an image prompt. The results are below!
Walking down a flight of stairs is a tricky proposition under ideal conditions, hold onto the handrail, pay attention to foot placement, etc. But doing it on snow-covered steps, with hands tied behind one’s back, with only a thin sliver of moon to see by, were not ideal conditions. Halfway down I, of course, slipped and slid down the remaining steps. I managed to keep my head up though and didn’t have to add concussion to my growing list of problems. The guards, coming down behind, me laughed amongst themselves.
It would seem they didn’t overly care about delivering me to Darius in good condition. That did not bode well. One could hope they simply didn’t receive the message that I was precious cargo. Though the magic dampening zip-ties around my wrists suggested I wasn’t so much precious as feared. The first guard to reach me pulled me up roughly and set me back on my feet. “Keep walking,” he growled.
I kept walking. I knew the route having gone down it willing in the past. Darius and I had once had an amicable partnership. I helped him with magical problems. Typically of an illegal nature. It paid well and no one got hurt. I’d baled on that partnership two years ago when I learned about the darker side of his business dealings. Namely blood slaves.
I shivered in the cold despite my warm jacket, which I was thankful I’d been wearing when Darius’s goons kidnapped me, thinking once more of the basement full of caged women I’d stumbled across when someone had left the wrong door unlocked.
We were headed for one of Darius’s more secluded haunts. I’d helped build the wards around it. I wondered who he had maintaining them now.