by Jim Galford
Only once had he fought against the embarrassing ordeal, having reached a breaking-point with the demands of the taskmasters on a day where they had preached yet again about how the workers were not slaves. He had struck out at one of the men, doing no real harm, but earning himself a severe beating. After his claws had been filed, he had been warned that if he resisted again, the kits would be moved somewhere outside of his watch. That had been the last time he even considered fighting back.
Sometime around late morning, the door to the building opened and one of the taskmasters came in, helping a leashed fae-kin woman who was limping badly. Having seen the same injury a thousand times, Estin knew immediately that she had stepped into one of the freshly-dug holes in the fields, twisting her leg or ankle. Given her cloven hooves, he guessed it was her knee that had been wrenched.
“She’s getting her papers this afternoon,” the taskmaster said, helping the woman sit in front of Estin. “We want to make sure she isn’t still limping on her first day as a Lantonne citizen.”
“Easily done,” Estin answered numbly, sitting up and rubbing his face to push away the lingering drowsiness. “She should be fine in a few minutes.”
The taskmaster offered sincere thanks to Estin—healing was something most of the taskmasters were truly grateful to have, even if they failed to understand how much it was killing Estin to be enslaved just to provide it—then departed, leaving him with his patient.
“How much longer?” the woman asked as Estin examined her leg. The knee was certainly swollen.
“Just a minute or two,” he answered, glancing up at her for only a moment. Her human features seemed out of place to him with the long horns that protruded from her forehead—though they were sanded flat like his claws. “It’s not too bad.”
“I meant, how long until you get your papers?” she asked, studying him. “You were here when they first carted me in, half-dead from an undead attack out east. You should already be gone.”
Estin could not remember the woman, her face blurring into the hundreds he had healed and exchanged brief conversation with over the year. That she could remember one person in the camp somewhat amazed him, though given his somewhat unique appearance, he guessed that was easy for most people.
“I don’t get to leave. They need healers.”
The whispers of the spirits touched the back of Estin’s mind as he mended the woman’s leg, the swelling fading visibly within seconds.
“Everyone is supposed to be freed,” she said sadly, watching him, as if looking for a reaction, even as she flexed her leg experimentally. Her hoof thumped loudly against the floorboards. “Six months of being someone’s slave is difficult for me. I cannot imagine not knowing when or if you will be free. I am so sorry. Have you considered escaping? With your skills, I imagine it would be possible. If I could in any way help you…”
“I cannot escape. There are children that I need to watch out for. I swore an oath to someone a long time ago and I won’t back down on it, even to save myself.”
The woman grabbed his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.
“Then what can I do to help in the meantime?” she asked, glancing around at the dim room. She seemed to be taking in what was or was not in the room. “I have some supplies that they gave me to survive in a tent through last winter that I could sneak to you. I also hear a great many rumors, owing to my work detail cleaning the tents of the taskmasters. Anything I have I consider a small price in thanks for healing me and as apology for how little I can help you beyond today.”
“Information would help. I hear nothing in here,” Estin admitted, sitting back. This was the first hint in many months that someone might know about things beyond the camp. “What have you heard of the war? Are we close to done with supplying an army?”
“Not even close. The undead number in the hundreds of thousands and are attacking other lands, not just here. I doubt the war will end anytime soon.”
“So there is no hope?”
“That is not what I said at all. Since Altis attacked the quarry last year, Lantonne has been duplicating their efforts to strike at the undead. Many days, those of us on the west end of camp can hear the explosions. Since that began during the summer, the ash in the sky has gotten steadily thicker…you have seen it, right?”
Estin had to shake his head. He was only allowed out in the evenings, not having seen the sun in months, except through the walls of the building. As much as he disliked bright sunlight, being denied it was emotionally painful.
“Well…we thought that it was just clouds when it started. Each explosion gets worse and the sunlight we do get now is brief. At least it rains more than it used to…”
“What happened at the quarry?” Estin cut in, hoping to learn more about Lieutenant Linn’s soldiers. Greth came to mind instantly. “You mentioned that Altis attacked there.”
“Yes, that I did,” the woman said excitedly, sitting forward. “They say that Altis saw how well Lantonne was doing in holding back their undead army, so they sent some people down to blow up the north wall of Lantonne. Luckily, they were stopped at the quarry and their weapon went off early, though it did destroy one of our war golems and damaged several others. Most of the undead got away, too, since Altis warned them before it happened. Then all those monsters came out of the quarry…sickening really, that anyone would do this on purpose.”
“What happened to the soldiers?”
“Oh, they’ve been mostly executed,” she answered dismissively. “I think I heard that their commander is going to be hung in town in a few days. I might actually get to see that. It will be good to know that the last of them is gone. I just hate that Lantonne felt the need to hold them in prisons for this long. It’s no better than sticking people in this camp.”
The conversation trailed off for a time and the fae-kin woman glanced back at the door.
“They will come for me soon,” she reminded Estin. “Is there anything else I can tell you?”
He thought for a while on that, then finally said, “If you are ever in the mountain wilds, please look for more of my people. Let them know I’m alive.”
“You have my pledge,” the woman answered, patting his hand as she got up, testing her leg’s stability.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” she added, turning back to face Estin. “You should know that something flew in from the mountains just the other day. Huge, whatever it was. We all saw it heading towards the warfront. We’re hoping it’s a new weapon. Anything that large should really do some damage to the undead.”
Estin was barely listening anymore, just nodding out of habit.
Out on the porch of the building, the taskmaster had returned, calling inside for the woman to come out.
“I wish you luck,” she told Estin, smiling sadly. “I hope to see you in Lantonne soon.”
With that, she left, closing the door behind her, leaving Estin in the shadows that always lingered in the building. Alone and wondering at the world outside, Estin hung his head and just waited, having nothing else he really could do.
*
The day was a slow one, leaving Estin with far too many hours of time to himself. That was always the hardest part of his duties, when he could sit with nothing but his thoughts to occupy him. If he were busy, it would have been far easier to let the time pass, but hours of pacing the room, stretching his muscles and trying to keep Feanne’s training in the back of his mind was difficult. He wanted to just lay down and sleep until made to do something more or just not wake up at all, but he forced himself every day to keep himself ready for that one day that they might leave the camp.
At nightfall, those who were lucky enough or important enough among the laborers came back to the building, most collapsing onto their bedding. Food would be delivered to the building soon enough, but some of the laborers were so exhausted each day that they would sleep any extra minute they could manage between working and eating.
Estin waited at his back corner of the room,
watching as several dozen people filed in. At last, he saw the kits come in as well, trying to stay out from under people’s feet as they hurried back towards him. Though they were now as taller than his waist, in a building full of humans, orcs, and others, the kits were still all too easily trampled.
Both kits ran straight to him, giving his legs a firm hug, as they did most days. They had their routines in the camp and this was one of the better ones in Estin’s life.
“How was the day?” he asked them both, sitting them down near their bedding.
“Fine,” answered Oria, perhaps a little too quickly, making Estin cock his head.
“She’s lying,” Atall admitted, watching his sister as though she would claw his eyes out…which her expression said was a distinct possibility. “She got attacked today.”
“What?”
Oria shook her head.
“No, not really. I mean…yeah. There was a little fight.”
“Explain.”
Oria closed her mouth and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at Estin. Her stubbornness rivaled her mother’s when she did not want to do something and thought she could get away with it. That was something Estin both enjoyed about her, as well as dreaded in situations such as this.
“She got in the way of another wildling when he was walking some horses,” blurted out Atall, as usual more than happy to tell on his sister. “He was really angry and hit her, then threw her face-down on the ground and said he’d teach her what use little girls are…”
Estin studied Oria’s face, now able to see the faint puffiness around one of her eyes. His thoughts darted to what spells he could manage. He could maim the one who touched her, disease him, or outright kill him. Nothing felt off-limits suddenly.
“I’m okay,” Oria insisted, looking sheepishly at Estin. “He didn’t manage to do anything else after he got on top of me. I clawed up his face pretty bad and he ran off. He didn’t…I mean…I’m fine. Please don’t look at me like that…I really am okay, Estin.”
Atall added, “It was over so fast, I couldn’t even get to her before he was gone.”
Not concerned about the girl’s dislike of him showing any affection for her or her brother, Estin swept her into a hug, holding her close.
“Just tell me who it was,” he whispered to her. “If I can’t be there to protect you in the fields, I want to at least know that I’m not healing the one who tried to hurt you.”
“I don’t know his name. He’ll be in here tonight or tomorrow, I think.”
Oria clung back, clearly more upset than she let on. Estin had not known the girl to willingly accept hugs otherwise. This time, she was practically choking him with how tightly she held to him.
Just as Estin was setting Oria back down, trying to compose himself, he looked up as the next group of laborers came back. Most were ones that had been randomly allowed to sleep in the proper shelter of the building for the night to make use of its fireplace, so the faces were not ones he recognized. One caught his eye though, the large cougar wildling male wiping at thin scratches down his face and nose, starting just below his eye. This one saw Estin staring at him and turned, heading to the far corner of the building.
“Please stay here,” he told the kits, pulling his hand away as Oria tried to hold him back. “I need to have a word with someone.”
The kits both hissed and whispered, pleading with him to stop, but he knew he could not. Some things just went beyond what he could bear or rationalize. It was all he could do to calm himself as he strode across the room, excusing himself as he pushed through the crowds of laborers.
Estin took his time, trying to relax as he walked, making a conscious effort to greet the few people he passed that he knew by name. It was a struggle, forcing himself to not rush to judgment, attacking the male that had tried to hurt Oria. The longer he made himself wait to confront him, the more calm he became, finally skirting by the building’s front door as he headed for the far corner, where the offender sat, rubbing at the cuts on his face.
In passing, Estin grabbed his leash, not even sure why, but wanting it for some reason. Any weapon was better than his bare hands. He then knotted the thick leather cord around his left hand as he walked, coming up beside the male and sitting down.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” Estin said, keeping his voice neutral. The cougar wildling looked up at him, seemingly surprised to be spoken to. “I’m the camp healer, Estin.”
The other male smiled, saying as he motioned to his face, “Stendin. Heard we’d gotten a healer, but hadn’t needed it. You mind?”
“Not at all. What happened?”
“Some little fox girl got in the way when I was moving some horses to the next field. Nearly got me trampled. When I yelled at her, she clawed me.”
Estin inspected the claw marks as he talked. They were very shallow, but having run down to Stendin’s nose, they were likely stinging quite a lot. The width and depth was right for Oria’s hands.
“Just yelled?” asked Estin, trying to manage a smirk. He had to be sure. “Most foxes don’t claw you for anything less than a slap.”
Stendin shrugged and laughed somewhat.
“She didn’t understand the natural order of things. I guess I got a little rough with her.”
“What order is that?”
“I’m bigger, meaner, and male. She needed to learn how things work in the real world.”
Estin felt his hands begin to shake and quickly took them off Stendin, lest he notice.
“That something you enjoy teaching females?”
Stendin laughed for real this time, nodding.
“Teach them young and often, or they’ll think they can boss you around.”
The leash dropped from Estin’s hand, dangling as he pondered how to reply. He knew the risks and the punishments, but he could not let go this time. All the anger of a year of captivity welled up and centered on this one male. He knew harming him would not change much, but somehow he did not care.
“Have you met my wards?” Estin asked casually, one hand near Stendin’s wounds, the other adjusting the length of the leash.
“No, don’t really care to, either. Who cares? Just heal me already.”
“I believe you met Oria today,” Estin added, flicking the leash around Stendin’s neck as he went wide-eyed, apparently making the connection, just as the leash went taught. “No one tries to rape a child around me.”
Stendin kicked and struggled, then the whole building went alive with shouts and movement, but Estin paid no attention to any of it. He felt Stendin’s blunted claws rake him over and over, as he slammed the cougar into the floor repeatedly, still tightening the leash as best he could. Between the impacts to his head and lack of air, Stendin fought less with each second, until Estin was able to properly tighten the makeshift noose to ensure that it would kill Stendin. He managed to get one knee up along the back of Stendin’s neck, giving him a brace against which to pull.
“What’s going on…?” began a voice somewhere near the door. “You! Drop him!”
Estin recognized the voice as that of one of the taskmasters, but could not concern himself with that. His only focus was Stendin’s lolling tongue and bulging eyes. He wanted to see Stendin dead, even if it cost him dearly. There had to be a price for an attack on the kits.
Seconds later, many strong hands grabbed Estin, trying to drag him off of his opponent. He fought against them, knowing Stendin was likely within seconds of death, having not budged in almost a minute. He lashed out with his tail, knocking at least one person aside as he fought to finish the job. Still, they were stronger than he was and soon he found it difficult to keep his grip on the leash. He strained, trying to keep hold on Stendin, but was steadily pulled off of him. In a last-ditch attempt to get his revenge, Estin kicked Stendin in the jaw, feeling bone crack and watching as he bit through his own tongue.
The taskmasters had to work together, three of them dragging Estin through the crowd and outside, where
they threw him face-first on the ground.
“What is wrong with you?” demanded one of the humans. “You were one of the calm ones!”
“He tried to hurt Oria,” Estin said, pushing himself up onto his knees. “The kit I watch. He tried to hurt her.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s not something I can do anything about now,” the man said, sounding sincere. “Our laws are clear. You just tried to kill someone within Lantonne lands. If he’d been a citizen, you’d already be dead. As it is…”
“Public flogging,” Estin finished for him. The punishment was not a rare one in the camp, given the tempers that flared in such a situation. He had cared for many whose whip-marks were threatening their lives. “I am aware.”
The taskmasters looked between one another.
“If you knew, why did you attack him?”
Estin shrugged, closing his eyes as he tried to slow his racing heart, answering, “What would you do for your children? I doubt humans are much different from my people.”
A leather leash wrapped tightly around Estin’s throat, dragging him to his feet. He was somehow amused that it was not the one he had traditionally wore, which he hoped was still around Stendin’s neck.
“I’m sorry,” the human told him, face-to-face with him. “We didn’t catch him hurting her. We did catch you. The law is what it is. This isn’t making it any easier for us to release you as a citizen.”
“We both know that wasn’t going to happen until after the war,” said Estin softly, smiling. “Just beat me and get it over with. I think I got my point across to the cougar about touching anyone’s children.”
The human sighed and offered, “If you’ll heal him, I might be able to go easier…”
“He will never receive healing from me,” said Estin, grinning briefly at the human and shrugging. “Not even to spare my life. To save those children, I would’ve torn him apart. I will not cheapen what I did by undoing it.”