by A J Park
“No,” she protested.
He ignored her and said something over his shoulder. Several other men came back. One of them, she thought, was the angry man from the bridge. He was bigger than the others. She moved as far from him as she could, but they were all around her now.
What were they going to do to her? Hadn’t the arrow been enough?
She was already badly hurt and surrounded by enemies. She couldn’t see Olthorin. And there was no one else who might be able to help.
The man with the calm voice said something else to her, firmly and distinctly, and pulled the gloves from his hands. He nodded to the others, and they grabbed her and pulled her face down onto the cave floor. The urge to fight was instinctive, but there were too many of them. She couldn’t move at all and her heart was racing.
“Let me go! Let me go!” She couldn’t see much with her face against the floor. What were they going to do? She felt someone’s boot on her back, pressing her into the floor.
And then… Pain worse than she had ever felt before. No room for thought or anything else. She screamed.
For some time, she was aware of nothing else, but as the pain receded a little, she realized Olthorin was yelling. Angry. He wanted them to stop. They were torturing her.
She waited, trying to breathe, her arms and legs held immobile, a weight pressing on her back. Would there be more pain? Would they kill her this time?
The sound of Olthorin yelling and fighting against his restraints continued. He had to stop. Whatever he was doing couldn’t possibly help. “Olthorin!” she said as loud as she could. He didn’t hear her, nothing changed. “Olthorin!” The sounds stopped.
“What are they doing, Ree?” she heard him ask, his voice agonized. Then the calm man spoke to him, and it got quiet again.
Shalyrie lay there, trying to breathe. The hands holding her released her. She could still barely move, but she reached back with her good hand to touch the arrow shaft.
It was gone. They had pulled it out.
Once the cave was peaceful again, the man with the calm voice came back. He spoke again and his tone sounded kind. Maybe they weren’t going to kill her right away. She felt his hands touch the back of her shoulder. She didn’t want him to touch her, but she didn’t have the strength to object.
She felt liquid—was it water? He seemed to be cleaning the wound. Maybe they hadn’t meant to torture her. After all, it was better to have the arrow out. She couldn’t possibly live with it there, though some warning might have helped. But then, the memory of pain was still sharp. Maybe a warning would not have helped.
Perhaps this man wasn’t as mean as the one who had taken the necklace from her. He had wanted to kill her immediately. But she didn’t know what this man would do. There was no way to know. For now, he wasn’t hurting her anymore, so she lay still and let him work. After a while, she felt him wrap the wound. Then, he gestured that she should turn over.
She nodded, understanding, and began to push herself onto her side. Every motion hurt and she needed help to turn all the way over. She clenched her teeth in pain as she rolled onto her back. After a moment, the pain eased a little, and now she could at least see what was happening.
He took out a knife.
She cringed away from him, her eyes locked on the blade. Was he going to kill her?
Seeing her fear, he put the knife away again and spoke quietly to her. He sounded reassuring and she took a deep, slow breath. He touched the torn fabric on her shoulder and pointed to the blood that had run down her front as well. She looked down. It looked like the arrow had come through the skin at the front of her shoulder and made a cut there too.
Very slowly, he took the knife out again. Her heart began to race, but she stayed still this time. He cut away a piece of the fabric, that was all, and put his knife away. He wasn’t going to kill her. He was doing what he could to help. And it wasn’t like she could do anything to stop him if he wanted to harm her. She took another long, deep breath. He’d had every opportunity to hurt her and he hadn’t.
He was trying to help.
A sense of relief came over her and the adrenaline rush from her panic was fading. Her body felt as heavy as lead. She stayed still as the man cleaned and wrapped the cut. When he was finished, he offered her a cup of water. She realized she was parched. She tried to raise her head to drink, but it felt so heavy.
The man leaned close and put his arm under her shoulders to lift her. He was way too close, and she realized he smelled like… something she didn’t recognize.
She wanted to struggle and push him away. But no. He was helping. He supported her and held the cup so she could take a sip from it. The water felt wonderful.
“Thank you,” she murmured. It was instinct. She wasn’t even thinking about whether he could understand her. He laid her back down, much more gently than she was expecting.
The stone beneath her was cold and she began to shiver. The man brought blankets and wrapped them around her, then folded one and put it under her head.
“Where is my brother?” she asked, trying to keep her eyes open. “Where is my brother?” She heard the man answer her, but she didn’t understand the words. That was the last thing she remembered that night.
Shalyrie woke with a groan. She must have shifted in her sleep and caused the pain to flare up. She concentrated on holding very still, breathing in and out steadily until the pain eased.
“Ree? Are you awake?” Olthorin said from beside her.
She turned her head to look at him. “Yes,” she whispered.
It was still dark. The only light was a faint glow from the embers of the fire. She couldn’t see anyone else, but she kept her voice low. The horsemen would not have left them alone.
“Are you all right?”
He looked a little bruised, and his wrists and ankles were tied. “I’m fine,” he said firmly. “How bad is it? What can I do?”
“It’s bad,” she admitted, “but it’s so much better than it was.”
“He pulled the arrow out, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know what they were doing to you. I didn’t realize till after that they were trying to help.”
“Me neither,” she said. “Did they hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “What are we going to do now? What will they do with us?”
“Galenor said the horsemen were primitive and violent. From what he told me, I expected them to kill us. But they haven’t.”
“I don’t know what they’ll do,” Olthorin admitted.
“Do you think the others are all right—Lorelei, Galenor and the rest? You don’t think they’re dead do you?” she asked.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “They may have had to swim a little, but I don’t think they were badly injured.”
“How are we going to get back to Newport?” Shalyrie asked. “How are we going to get home?”
She felt his hand on her good shoulder. “I don’t know, Ree. Just try to rest, heal. We’ll find a way home.”
When Shalyrie woke again, there was light coming into one end of the cave. The ashes of the fire were near her, but Olthorin was gone. Everyone was gone. Now what? Where was she? And where had they taken her brother?
She inched her way over to the wall of the cave and, with its support, she slowly pushed herself into a sitting position. Every little movement caused her shoulder to burn with pain. She sat there for a while, trying to catch her breath and to decide what to do next.
Suddenly, a dark shadow blocked the light. She was startled and shrank back against the wall. She saw one of the horsemen. Was it the mean one? No, it didn’t look like him. There was enough light now that she could see the man more clearly.
He was dressed entirely in black and wore black armor like the man on the bridge had been wearing. But this man had
a gold band on his shoulder, not silver. A mask completely covered his face, except for his brown eyes, and a close-fitting hood covered the rest of his head. There was no color anywhere on him, except for a thin strip of vivid crimson that had been tied around his arm, just above the elbow. Other colors had been woven into the fabric, some blue and a little green. The colors made an unusual pattern.
For a long moment, he stared down at her. Maybe she looked as foreign to him as he looked to her. Her pale green gown was now dirty, torn and stained with blood. Of course, she must look ridiculous, but she had never hidden her face.
“Thank you for helping me,” she said. She wanted to thank him, even if he couldn’t understand. He stared silently back at her for a moment, then he walked to the other side of the cave and returned with a cup and a piece of some kind of bread. She drank the water gratefully and took the bread as he held it out to her. It smelled good and she nibbled a corner. It tasted as good as it smelled and she ate a few bites, but she wasn’t really hungry. Her stomach wasn’t feeling very well.
When she was done, he gestured that she should stand. She shook her head. That was definitely a bad idea. He pointed to the cave opening. So, they were leaving. He offered a black-gloved hand to help her. She hesitated for a moment, then took it. With much support, she got to her feet.
Once upright, a wave of lightheadedness came over her and her vision went dark. She felt his arms catch her as she collapsed, keeping her from hitting the floor. “Thank you,” she murmured. Falling to the ground would have hurt so much more.
Gradually, her vision cleared. She could see his black-masked face above her as he carried her. He had put her good shoulder against his armor. She blinked as they left the dim cave and came out into the bright sunlight. Shalyrie saw another of the horsemen standing beside a black horse. The horse looked just as big as it had yesterday. Though it was standing quietly now, she worried it might run at any moment.
He was walking toward the horse. “No! I don’t want to ride it, I can’t,” she gasped. He ignored her.
The other man helped him lift her, and she found herself high on the horse’s back. The rocky ground looked a long way down. “You have to put me down!” He didn’t.
There was a seat attached to the horse’s back. The man gestured that she should swing one leg over to sit astride the animal. What good would it do her to object? She obeyed. Her skirt was long and full and was now bunched up uncomfortably, and she was sure that more leg was showing than was proper. The horseman was right behind her. He was still a stranger, and he was far too close.
“Please put me down?” On some level, she knew he wouldn’t understand her. Even if he did, he wouldn’t listen to her. But she was so terrified and uncomfortable that she couldn’t help but ask again. “Please?”
He put one arm around her, bringing her even closer, holding her securely against him. His other hand held some leather straps that he must have needed to use to guide the horse.
The horse began to move.
Oh, no. Oh, no! She shut her eyes, but that only made it worse. So she opened them and saw the rocks and hills and the other riders. The horse was a big animal and she could feel the strength and power of it, but every time it moved its feet, it jostled her and made her shoulder hurt worse. She wanted to get off and be still. Part of her wanted to throw off the arm holding her and get away from him. But another part realized that the arm was all that was keeping her from falling. She looked uneasily at the rocks below them.
There were riders all around them. Somewhere, up near the front, she thought she caught a glimpse of someone Almorian. Was it Olthorin? She couldn’t tell.
They rode for what seemed like hours, and every stride was painful for her. Her stomach churned, and she began to feel increasingly nauseated. It got worse until she had to lean over her captor’s arm and vomit. He quickly got his leg out of the way and stopped the horse. He waited a moment, maybe to see if she was finished, and then they went on.
Please let them get wherever they were going soon!
But they kept riding until the horses stopped at the crest of a hill. She could see what they were looking at, several columns of black smoke stood out harshly against the blue sky.
Oh, no…
The horsemen rode faster toward it. The jolting and the pain were worse, and she wondered how long she could ride like this before she passed out. She wanted to pass out.
They rode until Shalyrie could smell smoke in the air. She could hear cries and shouts and the sound of metal clashing together. What was happening?
They came to a cluster of buildings set in the center of a wide, grassy meadow. Many of them were burning. People were running between the houses—some of them fighting. The man holding her was yelling now, and she saw all the other riders drawing swords or raising spears.
What was going on? Why were they fighting? The smoke cleared a little, and she realized that many of the men were Almorian soldiers. Her people. They would save her, if she could only get to them. She could go home.
The horseman stopped in the shadow of a building that was still intact. He got off the horse, pulling her with him, and set her down beside the wall. In a moment, he had jumped back onto his horse and was gone.
What now? He’d left her alone. All she needed to do was find some of the Almorian soldiers. They would protect her. But in the meantime, if any of the horsemen found her, they would kill her. Hide, then? She crept along the wall until she came to an opening. It looked like a stable. She moved far enough inside to be out of sight.
Between the houses, she saw a masked man dressed in black and holding a sword. One of them. Had he seen her come in? He was looking toward her. Oh, no… He took several steps toward her. It was all going to be over soon. Her heart was pounding and her breath came in gasps.
Just then an Almorian soldier appeared to block his way. She felt relief for a moment, but then they were fighting. Their swords rang against each other, and she could hear their labored breathing as they battled. The piercing sound of metal on metal hurt her ears. She had never seen anything like this. It was horrible.
Stop! Why couldn’t they just stop?
Blood flowed down the back of the Almorian and she realized that the masked man had stabbed him. He jerked his blade free and the Almorian crumpled. But there were more of them. In a moment, the masked man was surrounded. He may have been able to fight one, but there was no way he could fight this many. Shalyrie turned away in horror. Why were they killing each other?
She saw motion out of the corner of her eye. A young girl in a black dress came running around the corner of the building. She was still a child, twelve or thirteen years old. The only emotion showing on her face was absolute terror. She was almost to Shalyrie when an Almorian soldier grabbed the girl from behind and pushed her against the wall. With his other hand, he raised a sword.
Shalyrie found herself on her feet. She wasn’t sure how she crossed the distance between them. But she grabbed the soldier’s arm as his sword was falling, not stopping him entirely, but causing his blow to miss. Startled, he threw Shalyrie off and turned on her, ready to attack.
Her wounded shoulder exploded with pain as she hit the ground. She looked up to see the soldier above her with his sword raised, staring at her in disbelief. “Lady Shalyrie?”
Shalyrie heard horses coming. As the soldier turned to face them, an arrow struck him. He stood still for a moment and then fell to his knees.
Arrows! She clutched her wounded shoulder with a shaking hand. No more arrows. Her stomach rolled over.
The horses stopped and a man got off one of them. She thought he was the angry man from the bridge. He was taller and bigger than the others. Was he going to kill her, like the soldier?
He pulled her roughly to her feet, then picked her up and put her on a horse in front of another man. They were all masked. How could she be sure who
any of them were? “Wait, we have to help her!” She meant the girl against the wall. “There are more of them!” But the girl was already running toward the horses. One of the men reached down for her and pulled her up onto the horse behind him. They were already moving.
Everything around them was smoke, horror and confusion. The horseman held her in one arm and a sword in the other. A company of Almorians came at them, running between the horses, separating them, trying to surround them. There were soldiers all around.
She felt a shock as something hit them and knocked the horseman to one side. His grip on her slackened, and she slipped, almost falling. She felt a stinging pain in her leg. They were all going to die together. She had to stop this.
“Find Galenor. Make them stop,” she gasped. “We have to end this.” How many people had died here already? Stop. Stop. Stop.
The horseman righted himself and lifted her again so she couldn’t fall. He rode into an open area and Shalyrie saw another, much larger, group of Almorians waiting to attack. They were close. They could see her. There were so many of them.
Without warning, the horseman took his sword and held it to her throat. “Tell them to drop their weapons or I will kill you.”
He had spoken in fluent Almorian.
“Stop!” Shalryie screamed. “Please, stop!” The shock of the horseman threatening her and everything else combined to make her feel like she couldn’t gather her breath to call to them. But they saw her. They saw the blade at her throat. “Please put your weapons down,” she begged.
Slowly, they backed away and lowered their weapons. The soldiers who could hear her told the others. The clamor of battle began to fade.
Shalyrie waited to die with the cold keen blade against her neck. “Please don’t kill me,” she gasped. “They have to stop. I want them to stop.”
“Be still,” he said. “They are moving away.”
“Please let me go,” she begged. “They will take me home. I’ll tell them not to fight anymore. Please, please let me go.”