It had not just been bad luck that found her outside that room when an angered King had emerged, sealing her fate for the evening. She was there on purpose listening in for any scrap of intelligence that she could pass on to Dane Harker and the rebellion. Xavier had even made it easy for her on several occasions, shouting at whomever he was meeting with. Usually it was the others leaving first, and since they were ordered to do so, often very loudly, she had always had time to make herself scarce. This time, her luck had run out. Still, despite the pain and suffering she had endured, she made herself look at the bright side.
Xavier was too angry and in need of an outlet for taking out his frustrations to fall into his normal paranoia. For her that meant that instead of a spy listening at the keyhole, he had just seen a pretty girl he could defile and abuse. It had been a seemingly unending night filled with torture and humiliation, but she had survived. Not only that, but she had gained so much more than the scattered pieces of information she had so far learned. All while he raved about the rebellion and how he was going to crush it. Serena had called on every last bit of inner strength she could to focus through the pain, so she could remember the important things. It had cost her, but she was alive and would soon be free. There was a voice in the back of her head urging her to leave sooner rather than later, in case Xavier realized just how much he had been talking, and that she was in fact still living. Fear and pain were waging a battle for her attention.
As the two women helping her eased her down on the cot in the infirmary, she was able to hold in most of the gasps of pain. Breathing heavy and with sweat pouring, she tried to calm herself enough to relax back into the mattress. A brief panic consumed her as another spike of pain hit, and she wondered if she had been wrong about living through last night. Soothing words and the calm demeanor of both healers helped fight off the feeling, and she began to breathe easier again.
The older woman helped Serena sit up enough to choke down a foul tasting drink, and then the two women began the real work on her injuries. When the world started to turn hazy, she stayed lucid long enough to hope it was only from the concoction she downed and not any thing more dire. The absolute last thought she had before the world went dark was how every time either healer looked at her face, they winced.
#
After Laura, the older of the two healers, finished checking her bandages and walked out of the room, Serena held her breath and listened for the door of the outer room shutting to make sure she was alone. It was now late in the second night that she had been in the infirmary. Her initial plan of leaving early this morning had given way to making her escape in the middle of the night. Whether it was smart planning to leave when there were not many people awake, or just being in too much pain to move sooner, she did not want to waste time worrying about it. Whatever the case may be, she was now ready to go.
Once more fighting against gasping out loud, she shifted into a sitting position. It took more time and energy than she liked, but she was moving now and would not stop. After making it to her feet and fully standing she wavered for a moment and then stepped away from the cot. Moving still hurt, but the potion they had been giving her every few hours had dulled the edge of the pain. Serena had watched carefully the last two times they had tended to her, and knew where the different medicines were that they had used. She hated taking from people who had shown her such compassion, but realized there was no choice if she wanted to make it all the way to the rebel's hideout. It was about a three week trip on horseback to Oakwood when healthy; in her condition it could take quite a bit longer, especially since she had no horse.
Having help would be ideal, but she did not know whom to trust. When she came to the castle and talked her way onto the cleaning staff, it was by herself and with only one name from Dane to use for getting messages out. The spindly tailor that had a shop in the poor quarter of Parna was always incredibly nervous when she showed, suspiciously so, as far as she was concerned. A fact that kept her visits to him as infrequent and short as possible. Even now, as badly as she needed help, she would not go to him. The poor man would likely fall over dead from the strain on his heart if she showed at his door looking like she did and asking for assistance. The image of Reilly nervously dry washing his hands as he gaped at her condition and then fainting dead away actually caused a small smile to break out. Of course, that immediately brought a fresh spike of pain, along with the strange sensation of skin pulling at stitches. The smile was short lived.
After filling her pillow case with supplies, using spare bandages to wrap anything breakable and making one more check to ensure she had what she needed, Serena eased through the back way out of the infirmary and crept along the shadowy hall on her way to the ground floor. There were some seldom used storage rooms in the eastern wing, down a hallway that was only utilized by staff, and she had stashed a pack there just for this kind of situation. Emergency supplies and money that would see her through the first week. She would have to figure out the rest as she went.
Noise coming from the top of the stairs ahead leading up caused her to duck into the dark corner to her left and hide behind a large potted bush. Light from a lantern one of the speakers carried chased her as far back as she could squeeze, and she had to clamp her hand over her mouth to keep from shouting at the pain as her tender back brushed up against the rough stone wall. Forcing herself to calm and holding her breath, she could hear two people whispering harshly.
"What was I supposed to do? Lie... tell him no?"
"There's got to be something. We could have told him she was hurt too badly... or... I-"
"I tried that, foolish girl. Do you think that man cares?"
The voices were finally close enough for her to recognize, and she almost called out to Laura and her apprentice, but stopped herself just in time. They could not help her. They were too scared of the Tyrant, and therefore could not be trusted.
"He'll kill her, Laura. We can't-"
"Silence! Keep your mouth shut and do as you are told. If you do not, we will both end up worse off than that girl."
They might have said more, but Serena did not wait around to find out. As soon as the light from the lantern started to fade, she hurried down the stairs as fast as she could, ignoring the pain. It would take a few moments before the healers discovered her missing, and their fear should make them hesitate even more. That should give her enough time to get to her stash and to the sewer entrance nearby that was never used any more. She had spent her rare free days checking the sewer tunnels for an emergency exit if needed. One of the ideas Dane had suggested to her in her last briefing before she left for Parna.
It was obvious to her that he did not want to send her. He thought it was too dangerous, and the reward probably would not be worth the risk, but she had argued until she got her way. The fact that she was so young, and that Xavier favored young, beautiful girls had been pointed out by Dane more than once. Serena was too angry about him implying she could not handle it to let the backhanded comment on her looks sink in at the time, but later when she was on her way, the words resurfaced in her memory and made her smile. From the day she had met him, she had been drawn to him. Ruggedly handsome, confident and capable, yet he still could be kind and gentle. All the things she sought in a man, and to top it all off; he actually listened to her and treated her as an equal. Up until she had tried to go into harms way, that is. Well, no man was perfect. These thoughts had been running through her mind even as she hurried along to her hideaway, and she had been lucky not to run into any one else. Now she mentally shook those worries away with one last depressed thought. He would definitely not be calling her beautiful ever again.
Pulling back the hand that had unconsciously crept up to her bandaged face, she eased through the door and moved to the corner hiding her pack. The satchel was still there, and had not been disturbed. After putting the medical supplies in the bag and re-cinching it, she stepped back to the door and opened it a crack to listen. Wiping a strand of
hair soaked with pain-induced sweat out of her eyes, she hurried down the passage to the sewer entrance. As she was working the cover open, she could hear noises from the far end of the hall. Rather than wait and see what the commotion was about, she slipped into the sewer and closed the trap door behind her. It would take a miracle for anyone to find her bolt hole, so she eased down the tunnel taking her time in the darkness to feel her way to the first intersection.
The route out was something she had walked again and again, until she could do it in the dark. Once at the crossing, she would turn right and follow it to the end. There she could rest and try to figure out how to get out of the city. She had hoped to be gone before anyone missed her, but having her plans changed really did not matter; she would find a way.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Moving Forward
Smoke curled out of the chimney on more than one of the houses in the small village that spread out below them. Choss straightened and signaled Ghasa. The Troop Leader gave a grunt in acknowledgment and signaled to the Orcs waiting at the back of the hill that they had been watching from. This morning's fun would go to the Bear clan. The Supreme War Leader had allowed first blood to Choss' own clan, but since then he had been assigning different clans for each task. Other than the decent sized town just south of the pass, all they had come across were small settlements and individual farms. There had been minimal resistance, especially at the farms nearest the town, of which most were strangely abandoned. To keep their warriors from becoming bored or complacent, Morsha used a new company every time. Eventually that would no longer be possible, but Choss imagined they would be well into Glendon by then.
The fact that none of the resistance they encountered so far had been soldiers was disappointing, but the fresh blood was enough to leave the men sated. The majority of the Humans had been killed, used as food for the Goblins, and cast aside, but they had taken some slaves. Most of those had been women, and he was somewhat relieved to see that almost every civilian female had been acting as they should; easily cowed and kept in their place. Of course, the same could be said for the males as well. These were farmers and craftsmen, not warriors. It was annoying, but he had a feeling that things would be better once they met with the other kingdom's soldiers.
"Another bunch of peasants... I wager there's not much more than a pitchfork and wood ax for weapons," Ghasa said.
The Troop leader's deep gravelly voice from behind Choss' right shoulder practically dripped with disdain. This was exactly the attitude he was just worrying about. He had to find a way to quell this behavior, without too much resentment.
"This is merely a supply raid, Ghasa. You can't expect to find soldiers in every hut. We knew we would not meet any real resistance until we crossed the river."
"Don't know why we aren't turning south. We should take all of these lands... once we conquered this rabble, then we could move on. Have all the supplies and slaves we needed for a real fight."
Choss had to bite his tongue to keep from snapping at the arrogant youth. Mostly because he often had these same thoughts. Reigning in his temper, Choss forced calm into his voice.
"This... rabble... would not be what we would face if we did turn south. There is a reason we have not seen any soldiers beyond that fort. A plan that the Supreme War Leader and the High Chieftain have worked on relentlessly. If you have a problem with it... take it up with them."
A grunt was all he got in response for several minutes.
"I meant no disrespect, War Leader. The men just feel a little cheated." Ghasa's voice was more subdued this time.
"Between you and me, I don't like it either. There is no glory in subduing pig farmers, but there is honor in carrying out our orders. Patience... patience will be our mantra. Once we cross the river, then we will find glory worthy of our people."
"Glory and honor, and much blood on my blade."
Choss nodded in agreement and heard the warrior step away. They were still staging at the pass, but now that all of the wagons had made it through, the army would begin preparing for the march. He made his way down the hill and toward the farm, sparing half of his attention for the steeper spots. After hopping most of the way down he turned his attention to the collection of buildings, and strode purposefully that way. Already, the sounds of struggle had ceased. The fighting had lasted mere moments, and there appeared to have been almost no effort needed to put these Humans down.
He could hear weeping coming from his right, and a quick glance in that direction revealed a handful of would-be slaves. One of them was being dragged away from a dead child. The weeping turned into moans and those into screams. Choss was relieved when the Goblin handler struck the female unconscious; the noise felt as if it was piercing his brain. It was unfortunate that her spawn had been killed, since they usually used any children to keep the slaves in line. Threats to their offspring usually made them more docile.
"The town is secure. There will be a decent amount of supplies from this raid... they appear to have been well into putting up stores for the winter."
Choss merely nodded at Ghasa's report. After a dispassionate look around he turned on his heel and ordered Ghasa to finish up. The sooner they got back to the Host, the sooner the march for Glendon could begin.
#
Finally. They had finally begun the march for the river separating the two Human kingdoms. Choss knew that there was still about three weeks of travel before they got to the crossing, but at least they were making progress. The securing of supplies was necessary for any large force to succeed in an occupation of foreign lands. He knew this, he also knew that their forces would have to make sure they did not spread out too much; having part of your force in enemy territory while the rest was still up to two days away was a recipe for disaster. Knowing these things did not make the wait any easier.
The area they were currently marching through was a mix of rocky terrain and sparse woods. Without any path or trail, they were able to widen their swath a little more than they had coming through the Pass, and that helped with the snow that was now six to eight inches deep. It would still be a mess by the time the last wagons reached the camp, but not so much that everyone would be sleeping in frozen mud.
Scouts were sent out and any sign of farms or villages would see a squad or two sent out for supply raids. Unfortunately for Choss, Morsha had other war leaders sent out with these so the Supreme War Leader had his Circle of Leaders available to confer while on the march. Mostly it was more to give some others a chance at some blood letting.
"The time is almost upon us, Choss. Soon we will truly be on the path to honor and glory," Veesha said with conviction.
At some point while his thoughts were wandering, his Chieftain had made his way forward to walk alongside Choss.
"I thought we already were... is that not what we started the moment we entered the Pass, or at least the moment we sacked the Human fort?"
"For me, yes. Perhaps for you, even. The others... they will not be ready until we encounter some true resistance. Even then, most of the warriors around us will just be hunting personal glory. How many Humans can they kill... how much loot can they take... how many slaves... though they will claim it is for the clan, that claim will be hollow."
Choss shrugged.
"That is the way of warriors. To them, personal glory will reflect honor onto the clan." Choss glanced at Veesha and waited for his response.
"For the young and ignorant that may be enough, but for those that truly know what we are capable of... there is so much more."
Choss had heard all of this before, of course. The first few times he had scoffed just as loudly as any other warrior. Then he had started to really listen as Veesha preached of a greater purpose. Of what had been lost to the past, and how the Orcs were so much less as a people than they once were. He would have dismissed it all to delusions of a new chief, but then Veesha had started to show him. Ancient scrolls, paintings of great cities, stories of the true glory of what was once
the Orc Nation. Choss began to believe. He was not quite the zealot that Veesha was, but he could see some of his chief's vision of the future. A feeling that they could be more, could stand above all others, had successfully wormed its way into his head.
Still, he was a warrior at heart. Visions were for scholars. These thoughts lead him to what Veesha meant about the others. A greater purpose could be preached all day, but it would mostly fall on deaf ears. These men needed an enemy to kill, that was their purpose.
"We will leave our 'greater purpose' to you and those that think like you, my Chieftain. As long as you can give us glory along the way, we will follow," Choss said.
"That will have to be enough, for now."
Choss grunted and went back to scanning the countryside. He would have to be the one to bridge the gap between his Chief and his warriors. As far as he could tell, it would not be that difficult. All these warriors wanted was glory in battle, and they would have plenty of that just by following the High Chieftain's vision.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Blue Skies
A deep, deep, cleansing breath. That was the first act Meric completed when he stepped out from the cave and into a crisp late fall morning. The air in the cave system had not really been bad, or even lacking in freshness, it was just... earthy. Deciding he did not feel like wasting any more time on a philosophical bent, he cleared his mind of everything but the slight burn in his chest from the cold air. After expelling that surplus air, he turned back to smile at a smirking Alyssa.
An Adept's Duty: The Scepter of Maris: Book Two Page 13