The one with the arrow in his back was promptly tended to. Since Jill's arrows were designed for hunting game instead of piercing armor, the tip had gotten stuck in one of the iron plates of the Guardsman's brigandine and did not penetrate far. Although the wound was minor, the Guardsman made quite a fuss while he was being treated. Mark had a hard time feeling much sympathy for him.

Before his captors set out again, they brought Mark to his feet and compelled him to walk. Between the wear on his body from being dragged so far and the nets hindering his movement, Mark fell down after only a few steps. The Guardsmen had no intention of letting him get back up and spurred their horses onward, dragging Mark along once again. They rode until sunset before setting up camp for the night.

Although Mark's body was already racked with pain from being dragged so far, it did not stop the Guardsmen from venting their anger on him. They savagely kicked him, beat him with the butts of their halberds and cursed him until they exhausted themselves. To reward themselves for their work, the Guardsmen relaxed by a small campfire to eat. Naturally, Mark was kept too far away from the fire to absorb any of its warmth.

They continued to talk for a while before finally falling asleep. Mark had been so sorely beaten that he could barely stay conscious. Nevertheless, he fought to stay awake by fixing his will on escape. The Guardsmen had never bothered to search him. Except for his sword, he still had all his equipment, most importantly the Dagger of Eolande. Since the nets were tied to the Guardsmen's mounts, he could not untangle them without disturbing the horses and waking up the Guardsmen. The only option was to cut through the nets, which carried the additional benefit of rendering them unusable.

Drawing the dagger from his boot, he went to work cutting through the ropes. His hands did not want to hold the dagger and his sore muscles were uncooperative, but he persevered nonetheless. He knew that any pain he felt now would pale before whatever lay in store for him. He was making steady progress opening a hole in all three nets when things took a turn for the worst.

One of the Guardsmen had woken up (perhaps he had not fallen asleep in the first place) and was sneaking over to the horses. He appeared to be ransacking the saddlebags of his comrades, ostensibly in search of money and other valuables. Mark was quite content to leave him to his work, but there was a problem. If he continued his escape attempt, he would most likely be caught by the Guardsman and his efforts would be for naught. On the same token, if the Guardsman walked over to him to ensure the secrecy of his theft, he would see the cut ropes and Mark would be no better off.

The hole in the nets was just big enough for him to get through, so Mark opted to take advantage of the Guardsman's distraction and get away. Even without the poor condition of his body, it was a tricky maneuver to get out of the nets without pulling on the horses and drawing unwanted attention. Rather than simply crawling out of the hole, he had to hold the nets in place while he pushed himself through.

Necessity dictated that he move slowly. The Guardsman would not want to be caught and his paranoia would make him more alert than usual. Mark did not let his own anxiety get the better of him. His best chance of success lay with his patience. Inch by agonizing inch, he was making his way out of the nets. He was free from the waist up when his scabbard caught on the net. Feeling the tug on the ropes, one of the horses became agitated and alerted the Guardsman.

He was not expecting the prisoner to be attempting an escape, so he did not move too quickly to investigate. Mark tried pulling on the net to widen the hole, but all the gear on his belt was too big and the ropes did not stretch enough. He had to cut a wider hole, but the Guardsman was almost there. Fueled by a rush of adrenaline, he no longer felt the pain as he hastily sawed at the ropes. By the time he had cut through, the Guardsman stood mere inches from him.

Before the Guardsman could finish his sentence, Mark thrust the dagger into his leg, focusing all his energy into the gems. The moment the blade struck, electricity surged through the Guardsman's body. After letting out a tortured scream, he fell unconscious to the ground with wisps of smoke curling from his crumpled form. Unfortunately, the Guardsman's scream woke his companions and unlike their fallen comrade, they would not be taken by surprise.

At this point, there was not much hope of escape. Mark's body had been too thoroughly ravaged to run or fight, but that did not stop him from trying. Pulling himself out of the nets, Mark struggled to his feet and tried to force his unwilling legs to move.

The other obliged by throwing his full weight and momentum into tackling Mark. The shock of the blow knocked the dagger out of Mark's hand and it was beyond his reach when he hit the ground. Pinned by the Guardsman who had tackled him, Mark clutched his chest when the other one caught up and delivered a sharp kick to his stomach. The intense pain was so great that he momentarily forgot about his last-ditch defense. Now it was too late. The Guardsman followed through with a kick to the head that robbed him of consciousness. His one best chance to escape was lost.

Emerging from the billowing smoke, she stalked over to the fallen Guardsmen Mark had left unconscious in the street. Seizing him by the collar, she dragged him over to the gate. After propping him up, she then proceeded to revive him with a series of hard slaps. As the Guardsman groggily came to his senses, Sonia slammed him against the wall.

Using all her might, Sonia drove the Guardsman's own blade through his stomach, pinning him to the gate. The soldier howled in agony, but she was unmoved. Pressing the blade of her main gauche against his neck, she glared at him in cold-blooded ruthlessness.

Overcome with pain, the Guardsman did not answer right away, prompting Sonia to slam him against the wall once more.

The Guardsman had difficulty speaking. "We, ugh... we take all captives to Corinth first. They should get there, ah... oh... get there in two days." With a quaking hand, the Guardsman gripped Sonia's pauldron. "You got what you wanted. Now please... end it."

In a single smooth motion, she ran the edge across his throat and returned the main gauche to its sheath without even wiping the blade. Walking over to the place where Mark was captured, she picked up her cousin's sword and held it tight. She then turned to the others.

Unwilling to rely on Edward, she pointed to Jasper. "You, Tricky, go with Jill and get the drunkard's pack."

Since he shared Sonia's sentiments about saving Mark, Jasper accompanied Jill to the tavern without a word of complaint while she went to the gatehouse. She pulled the lever inside and the gates slowly creaked open. When she was on her way back, she saw Teresa trying unsuccessfully to draw out the sword stuck in the Guardsman.

Cowed by Sonia's forcefulness, Teresa simply bowed her head in submission. With that taken care of, the fencer turned her attention to Jill and Jasper, who were busy dragging Edward's pack to the gate.

Still rather inebriated, the Prince grumbled, "I don't take no orders from no woman."

Acknowledging the direction with a silent tip of her bow, Jill ran on ahead. Sonia passed through the gates with Jasper closeby and Teresa following farther behind. As she had expected, Edward was pulling up the rear and quickly closing the distance.

Since his feet were the only thing that touched the ground under this new arrangement, Mark was surprised they left his boots on. He did not expect it as an act of kindness. Rather, the Guardsmen knew it would be less trouble if he could still stand on his own feet.

Craning his neck, he saw that they were entering a town he recognized as Eagle. The group had bypassed it on the way to Cruz, but his captors had no need to take the long way around. Before going in, they had a brief exchange with the guards of the gatehouse.

With that, the Guardsmen ended their friendly conversation and moved on into the city. Although Eagle was probably the largest of all the towns in Gladius, it seemed largely deserted. Only a handful of people could be seen out in the streets even though it was nearly midday. He did not have much time to think on it, for the garrison barracks were not far from the gate.

The Guardsmen dismounted and while Gil was busy untying Mark from the saddles, he gave orders to his counterparts.

Lashing Mark's wrists together behind his back, Gil handed Mark over to Quid as Kith led the horses to the stables. Mark was guided to the garrison commander's office, where he found one of the last people in the whole world he wished to see: Harald Svenson.

His rage ignited, Harald rushed forward to deliver a stiff punch to Mark's gut. The captive swordsman doubled over from the blow, but his captors kept him on his feet. The commander, taken aback by the sudden disruption, slammed his hands on his desk.

Gil was not foolish enough to oppose an officer's will and made no further complaint. Once the garrison commander's adjutant wrote up a brief report, they were dismissed. Kith was waiting for them outside with the horses. Once they had tied Mark to the saddles as before, Harald told them to meet his men at the East Gate.

At the East Gate, Mark noted that Harald's squad was down to three men. It seemed that the two crippled by Jill had to be left behind and Harald had not acquired any replacements yet. The men visibly stirred at the sight of Mark, angering their commander.

Harald's own men and Mark's captors said nothing. Mark could sense the resentment they bore for the overbearing lieutenant. To be sure, he would be in a bad place if military discipline ever broke down.

Once they were on the road, Harald took pleasure in jabbing Mark with the butt of his halberd. He was making the horses skittish, but the riders were not going to say anything. When he got bored with this, he sought new ways to amuse himself at Mark's expense.

Although Mark could not appreciate it at the time, the riders took considerable care handling their mounts. It would not have taken much effort to dislocate his shoulders or even rip his arms off. The pain was too great to pay much thought to such things. Nevertheless, he refused to cry out. He would not give Harald the satisfaction. However, it did not stop the lieutenant from badgering him.

Mark was not afraid to face death and torment. If his journey would come to a painful end in Corinth, he was willing to accept it, but the thought of his companions suffering sparked the will to resist. He could not abandon them and with that thought burning in his mind, he mustered all the strength that was left in his arms. Fighting the pull of the horses, he drew his arms together. The horses and their riders were taken off guard by the new force and did not know how to react to it.

The Guardsmen obeyed, but Mark fought the pull of the horses with all his might. His muscles did not fail him and it left the harried steeds distressed by the two unpleasant sensations of being pulled in a direction they did not want to go and the spurring of their riders.

Remarkably, the captive swordsman had draw his arms close enough together that the horses were pressing up against his sides. He could almost reach the ropes binding his wrists. If he could get even one hand free...

Had there been no one else but the Guardsman who captured him, Mark might have succeeded. Unfortunately, Harald Svenson was there and if nothing else, his single-mindedness made him quick to act in any situation. He gave Mark a savage thrust to the gut with his halberd. The shock of the sharp, sudden pain was too much for Mark. His arms gave out and the horses flew apart. When his arms were drawn taut, a new wave of pain swept over him. It was more than his body could handle and darkness overcame him once again.

Her sense of urgency prompted her to keep a brutal pace that only Jill could meet. They were not moving as quickly as she would have liked. Unsurprisingly, the new addition was slowing them down more than anyone else. With no travelling experience, Teresa could barely keep up and did not have even half the stamina of the others. It did not help any that they were crossing the open country rather than sticking to the road. Sonia was not entirely unsympathetic to the novice's struggles, but the danger Mark faced held a far greater priority.

In theory at least, it would take the same amount of time to reach Corinth on foot by cutting across as it would to take the roads by horse. Sonia wanted to arrive ahead of Mark's captors, so she was willing to forgo eating and sleeping to achieve her goal. However, her resolve was not universally shared. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed all the help she could get to pull off the rescue. To that end, she had to finally agree to a break after nearly six hours of walking.

While they rested, Jill went off to forage, most likely raiding the fields and gardens of a nearby manor. Sitting around the campfire, Edward nipped at a flask, Sonia cleaned her weapons and Jasper strummed his lute. Sonia noticed that Teresa was sitting by herself some distance away from the others. Pricked by her conscience, she got up to approach the novice. Edward coughed, the sort of cough people give when they want to get your attention.

Ignoring Edward's advice, she walked up to the solitary novice. Sonia rested her hand on Teresa's shoulder and the novice shrank from her touch.

Teresa did not say anything at first, but Sonia could tell there was something she wanted to say. When she made no move to speak her mind, the Defender thought a little prodding might be necessary.

Even with Sonia's encouragement, Teresa hesitated before finally speaking. "Are you sorry for the men you killed?" she asked. "Are you sorry for spilling blood in a city that's been a sanctuary from needless violence for over a hundred years? I think you should worry about that rather than my feelings."

Teresa was a little put off by Sonia's response and started to clam up again. Fearing the novice might become wholly uncommunicative, Sonia redoubled her efforts to bring things to a resolution.

"Mark told me to go easy on you and I'm going to try to do just that. I'll take care of you. So will the others. We're really not bad people." Pausing to eye Edward, she added, "Most of us, anyway." She patted the novice's back lightly. "Don't worry. As long as I'm around, nothing's going to happen to you."

Teresa nodded, but said nothing. Seeing that she could do no more, Sonia turned around and went back to the others. Unsurprisingly, an argument soon broke out between her and Edward. Watching the sight in dismay, Teresa sighed.

If she knew then what lay in store for her over the course of her travels, she would have ran back to the abbey that instant without any thought of the repercussions that awaited her. It was a fortunate stroke of Providence that the timid novice was not blessed with precognizance.