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  Table of Contents

  The Wolf Prisoner

  The Tiger Prisoner

  The Bear Prisoner

  The Dragon Prisoner

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  The Wolf Prisoner

  Prisoners of Scythia

  Book 1

  By: Lisa Daniels

  Prologue

  A Series of Worsening Events

  The day started just like any other.

  The familiar kick to my shoulder followed by, “Wake up, you worthless waste of space.” The cruel, high-pitched voice was a far worse torture than the physical assault. There was a good reason why the woman there to torment me was nearly 40 and unmarried.

  Before my eyes were open, I was already apologizing and trying to scramble to my feet. “I’m so sorry. I will get right to work, I swear it.” I knew that she was waking me up increasingly earlier to find something to blame me for. Trying to point out the problems with her accusations would have been about as logical and effective as pointing out that the world didn’t revolve around her. I was in no position to do anything that would be considered critical of her anyway. For now, all I could do was just act the way she wanted.

  Just as I was beginning to push myself off of the floor, my elbow was knocked out from under me. Rolling my body with the momentum, I minimized the pain. Not that I could let that show. Making sure to moan a little louder than was necessary, I could hear the satisfaction in her voice.

  “Get up and get to work before I report you to my brother.”

  It was a hollow threat, but she didn’t know that I knew that. I scrambled up as I listened to her footsteps echoing out of the barn. The sigh of relief was out of my mouth before I could stop it. Instinctively, I held my breath to make sure she had not stuck around to listen. As cruel as she was, it was her brother that scared me. Once she realized that he was interested in me, Catharine made sure to be my tormentor in the mornings and evenings. The way I’d seen her looking at her brother… well, wasn’t my business. I just needed to keep my head down and get out of the situation alive and as whole as possible. Slaves don’t really have much say in how they are treated. But I was always certain that the place I had been in for six months was not going to be permanent. My plan to escape was already well formed. I just needed a little more time to make enough money to pay for passage out of the gods-forsaken country.

  I was never the idiot they thought I was. But I would soon find that I was much more of a fool than I had believed.

  I quickly changed into something presentable. Part of my job was hiding the bruises and lacerations under a clean exterior. Smiling through the pain was much easier knowing that the situation would only last a little longer. It was far more challenging to keep the clothes looking clean. They were third- or fourth-hand, and I had to completely replace much of them with scraps from the bolts of material Catharine threw out. No one would mistake me for nobility, but I definitely did not look like a slave. The family that owned me would never have allowed me to represent them in business if I looked like some of their other slaves.

  I checked out my image in the mirror. My black hair curled around my face like snakes around a trainer. My green eyes barely looked at my face, though. A misplaced hair or wrinkle on the dress were not my main concerns. Everything about the way I was treated, and the fact that I was a slave, had to be carefully hidden. Once I left the barn, it would be easy to mistake me for a merchant’s daughter—it was as much a point of pride for me as it was a requirement by the family.

  Picking up the basket and a list of items that I needed to purchase, I had no idea what I was about to literally walk into. Had I known… I probably would still have gone. As it was, I left worrying about things that would cease to seem important an hour later.

  At first, nothing seemed different. The market was buzzing with life as people haggled over goods, gossiped about their neighbors, and argued over who had things the most difficult.

  “Good morning, mistress.” I felt someone pulling at the sleeve of my dress. Turning, I looked into the smiling face of a man who reminded me of a boar. He had a thin set of whiskers around his face, beady eyes, a large nose, and cheeks that were red and round like apples. “A woman as lovely as yourself should have—”

  Pulling away, I smiled at him. “Thank you very much, but I am here for my mistress. She is expecting me home in a few minutes.”

  “Ah,” there was a glint in his eyes that I did not like. “Perhaps I should try to hire you for myself. Who is your mistress, my dear?” There was a leer on his face as he began to look over my figure.

  “I must hurry if—”

  He grabbed my forearm, stepping closer. “I’m sure you can make time for me.” Patting a place on his hip, and letting me know exactly what he had in mind, he said, “I have no doubt that I can convince your mistress to lend you to me for a few hours.”

  The guy was even creepier than Catharine’s brother.

  Looking away from him, I held up my other hand and waved it. “Yes, mistress! I am over here!” Hoping that my ruse would work, I put everything into looking concerned. The man was momentarily distracted, trying to look for whomever I was frantically waving at. Pulling my arm away, I gave him a quick bow and hurried off before he could catch me again. I could hear him shouting after me, so I decided that the best way out of the situation was to make my purchases from a different area of the market. It would mean having to rush home, and I would likely get a beating for taking too long. I decided that was preferable to meeting up with the man again.

  Unfortunately, I was entirely unfamiliar with the city beyond the small area of the market and where I was living. Fleeing from the man had caused me to hurry away, zigging and zagging so that he could not follow me. Before I knew it, I was completely lost. There was no point in stopping to ask for directions because my accent was so heavy that many of the people outside the market barely made an effort to understand me. It was rare to encounter someone like the guy whom I had just left behind in the market, and it had given me a false sense of security there. Most of the people in the market came from somewhere else, so my accent blended with many others of people selling their wares and purchasing goods for the people they served.

  Trying to look less concerned than I felt, I studied the buildings around me, hoping to see something familiar among the roofs and spires. Which was stupid. I should have been paying attention to where I was going or stood still and tried to get my bearings. If nothing else, the shouting around me should have let me know that there was something much more serious happening close by. But my mind was focused on trying to keep myself from getting any further from where I needed to go. Being home late was bad, getting home more than an hour after I was expected could have meant a broken bone or two. It was not a risk I was willing to take, so my mind was trying to find a way out of the danger I knew was coming.

  That left me open to more imminent danger.

  While my attention was on the sky and the spires, an arm slid around my waist. Just as I was about to protest, I felt something cold against my neck. My body went rigid, instinct telling me that
protesting, maybe even breathing, was a bad idea.

  A voice near my ear boomed, “As I said, luck is always on my side. If you don’t want to be responsible for her death, let him go.”

  My eyes had begun to take in the things happening in my more immediate surroundings. There was a small group of guards pointing their swords at me. Well, technically, they were aiming for the man behind me, but I was standing between them. One of the guards stood closer than the rest. He took a few steps forward. For such a tall man, he had a higher voice than expected, though not entirely unpleasant. “Let the girl go. Clearly she is a simpleton who can’t even recognize danger. Even a lowlife such as yourself would not harm someone with the mind of a child.”

  I was extremely offended, but his clear blue eyes scowled at me, accusing me of something that I didn’t understand. If I were being honest, the guard glaring at me wasn’t entirely wrong. That must have been the shouting that I had ignored, and through my poor judgment, I had walked myself into an even more precarious predicament than the man in the market.

  The arm tightened around me. “A lowlife such as myself would be more than happy to sacrifice someone for his own safety. That is why the burden is all on you to call them off and let us go. Including your prized prisoner.” Despite his words, I realized that he was not my biggest threat. My mind had recovered from the shock and was now paying a lot more attention to the little things. Yes, there was something metallic against my throat, but it wasn’t very sharp. This was hardly my first time in such a predicament. Women from my country were trained in how to handle these kinds of situations since we were always at war with the countries around us. When you had soldiers constantly invading, gender had nothing to do with protecting your country or yourself. Not that a “civilized” place like the country of Scythia would understand that. Women here were more like delicate trophies. Now because of my situation, I was unequipped to defend myself. As a slave, I did not have a weapon of my own, but I was quickly realizing that I didn’t need one. The man behind me was bluffing. The guard looking at me was a much greater threat. That was obvious from the look in his eyes.

  “I have no time to go saving every fool who ambles into danger. My job is to capture criminals like you.” His eyes went above my head and he nodded. I heard a woman scream from somewhere, and from her tone, she clearly expected people to listen to her. Apparently, she was not pleased with whatever the guard had just done. Her shouts were too distant and unimportant for me to pay attention.

  I felt the body behind me laugh, and he said loudly, “Ah, sweetheart, just what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?” The warm, jovial voice suddenly became much harsher as it hissed in my ear. “What in the world were you doing? You could have gotten yourself killed. If I’m being honest, there is still a very good chance that will be the outcome anyway.” I could make out the voice muttering so that I almost couldn’t hear him as he said, “Women in this country are no better than the sheep. Can’t even recognize danger when they are about to walk right into it. How do you account for that kind of stupidity when trying to plan an escape?”

  I suddenly became aware of something hard hitting my head and the feel of my body falling along with something warm and solid behind me. No longer certain of anything, I was somewhat surprised when there was no further pain as my body landed on something softer than the cobbles.

  Far away, I heard a voice start to give orders. “Take the prisoner to the dungeon.”

  I felt something warm and small press against my neck. Then a gentle voice nearby asked, “What of the woman?”

  The cold response was, “I imagine the idiot can be chucked into the next mass grave.”

  “Um,” the voice was hesitant. “She’s still alive.”

  Everything sounded much further away, despite my best efforts to prove the voice right. I could barely make out a very put-out voice as the final verdict came down about me, “If he really did spare her life, the laws are very clear that …”

  I didn’t hear the rest as my mind slid into unconsciousness.

  Chapter 1

  Not What I Expected

  The first thing that I was aware of was the throbbing pain in my head and the brilliant light that was making it impossible to see my surroundings. Through the pain, I couldn’t remember anything. Feeling a little panicked, I turned my head slightly, hoping to block out whatever was creating such a blinding light. Or at the very least to keep my eyes from looking directly at it.

  Big mistake.

  My head felt like no more than an egg in a baker’s hands. Not a great turn of events. Worse still, I couldn’t think clearly enough to remember anything that had happened to give me such a splitting headache.

  “Gascho Nga!” I muttered the curse as softly as I could because it was clear that any kind of noise would only make the pain worse. On the edges of my mind I heard something nearby. It sounded like someone shifting around or moving, and I wondered if perhaps I wasn’t alone. Trying to push my thoughts through the pain, I searched for any memories of recent events. Still, I couldn’t come up with a single thing.

  Finding that my mind wasn’t willing to assist in piecing together what had happened, I decided I was going to have to get up and do something. Anything was better than lying helplessly on my back. Knowing full well that it was a bad idea, I tried to push myself up into a sitting position to look around me.

  Two things happened in quick succession.

  First, I realized that my eyes had actually been closed. This was disconcerting, but not quite as terrifying as the feel of a hand on my shoulder and a voice that I knew I had heard before. Something in my mind triggered, but too much of my brain was focused on the pain for me to figure out where I had heard it. The hand was pushing me back down as if to let me know that someone else was in control.

  “Not a good idea, my little Shingite. You are a blessedly long way from home, and not in any condition to fight.”

  The alarms in my head were trying very hard to make themselves heard over the throbbing pain that was fighting back.

  Immediately, I began to try to analyze the voice, words, and anything else that would give me information about the person near me. One thing that had already been made obvious was the fact that I was nowhere near my home—I didn’t need to understand his words to have figured out that much. His accent alone gave me a rough idea of where I probably was. My initial reaction was to get out of there, though it wasn’t immediately obvious to me why. I didn’t remember having an aversion to Scythia, but my initial reaction had never been wrong before. It was somewhat of a relief to know that the important parts of my brain were still working, despite everything else.

  There was no point in pretending to be asleep. Obviously the guy knew I was conscious. And there was a chance that there were other people in the room, but the gaps in my memory didn’t seem to have an answer either to who he was or if he was likely the only one there. Whatever my situation, being vulnerable was clearly not an option.

  My sense of self-preservation finally overtook the pain, and my mind cleared enough to be somewhat useful. Lifting one of my eyelids and bracing for what I knew was going to be a searing pain, I focused on what I could see instead of what was happening in my head.

  Immediately a hand went over my eyes. “Sorry, but for now you are going to need to trust me. In your current condition, opening your eyes is going to do a lot more damage than letting them rest.”

  “There is nothing about this situation that suggests trust is a good idea.”

  The laugh was low, almost comforting, which was surprising considering how much my own voice had hurt my head. “Given the way you literally walked into my life, I don’t think that your instincts are that well honed. Which is a surprise, considering your origins.”

  My body reacted before I had time to think about it. Springing up from the bed, my eyes flew open as I prepared to fight anyone who would insult me. Or worse, anyone who had knowledge about my purpose. My mouth
was open, ready to let him know that the insult would not go unanswered. In my rush to fight, I knocked something over. The sound of something metallic and wet hitting the floor was all too loud and echoed in my surroundings. It became clear that the bed was little more than a bunch of straw, but that didn’t absorb the sound of metal on stone. He had clearly anticipated this because for the brief moment where my eyes were open, I couldn’t get a good look at anything. His large hand covered my eyes almost as soon as they had opened, stopping the pain that had started to shoot through them. He stopped my mouth by covering it with his own. Before I could scream or let out another sound, he blew air into my mouth, taking me completely by surprise. The way he pushed against me caused me to fall right back onto the uncomfortable bed. Somehow he managed to cushion the fall so that it didn’t hurt quite as much as I had expected. Or maybe I was just so surprised by everything that I didn’t notice as my body fought to recover from the air forced into my lungs.

  “What is going on in there?”

  My body was flailing under him as I desperately tried to get him off of me. To my surprise he felt incredibly light, almost as if he weren’t putting his weight on me. “I’m just enjoying the little fool you left with me. I’ll thank you not to ruin my fun.” His body suggested he was turned to talk to someone, but I couldn’t see with his hand over my eyes.

  “Please, help me!” I cried, not caring too much who was nearby. My voice sounded hoarse and wrong as I panted for air. I sounded pathetic even to myself.

  There was a derisive laugh. “I see that the simpleton survived the Gargoyle they dropped on your heads.”

  “Yes. And since I kept her alive, she belongs to me now. Even your captain would have a hard time arguing with that.”

  There was a scoffing noise, and it sounded like the other man was turning away from us. His voice sounded further away. “I don’t care what you do with her, just don’t wake up our other guests.”