"All right, Loralil. I have a solution to the problem you have dropped in my lap. I will say to the friends of your corpse calling for your immediate death that I have found a way to appease them."
"And what is that mistress?" Loralil asked her owner in a sarcastic voice.
"Don't take a tone with me, you stupid bitch! I have just sold you to the arena. The half-Orc had lots of friends and they will be at the arena to watch you die." She sneered with a smile of pure pleasure on her face. "You won't cause me anymore trouble, bitch."
Just then the door to the dungeon opened and in stepped one of the most ugly individuals she had ever seen. He obviously was only part human. The rest was a mystery. He looked Loralil over and then turned to Mistress Terry. "You have got to be kidding! This child hacked Cendric Half-Orc to death?"
"Yes, she did. I saw the corpse with my own eyes." A sick look past briefly over her features. "It was torn to bloody shreds. I was amazed. It seems the girl has a real hatred of half-Orcs." With a shrug she turned and rested her shoulder against the cage. "I think she just might give the crowd a good show. Put her in the ring with one." She looked down and played with her ever present whip. "I would bet my money on the girl."
The man nodded his head slowly. It could be interesting. It was definitely different.
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Two days later Loralil was standing in the middle of the sands. She was dressed awkwardly in a loose brigandine and held a short sword in her hands. She had no idea what to do with it. She held onto it with both hands. Her wrists were weak and she had trouble keeping the tip up. Why had they given her this for a weapon? After fifteen years as a whore she did not have the wrist strength to wield a sword. A dagger would have been better. She had the quickness to evade most thrusts. Plus in secret she had been practicing throwing. Just a tiny blade that she had traded another girl for. It was lost now with all the other small things she had accumulated in the years with Mistress Terry.
The crowd roared their approval when they saw her standing there. She looked like a child in her father's clothing. They were bloodthirsty today. Many of the crowd loved to see elves in the ring. To hear that she was a killer added an surprise to the show. As she stood trembling in the sun she heard the announcer call out the name of her opponent. She took a quick breath. The name of her killer was Marcus the Hill. He was a half Orc. Loralil had learned the name of a few of the fighters in the past two days as they prepared her for the fight. They didn't do much. They just asked her what weapons she had ever used. Now she was out here to die.
The crowd quieted down as they saw the Half Orc enter the arena. He was an ugly creature. He was missing an eye and an ear. There was a large scar visible on his left leg. The rest of him hulked large as he started toward his victim. He was sure that this was to be a very quick fight. Just a quick thrust and he could go back to the barracks and have his pick of the women. Too bad he had to kill this one, he heard she was a whore who had killed a client. He bet she would be real good in bed.
Loralil took one look at her opponent and a red haze covered her sight. The crowd in the stands watched amazed as the child in the ring changed. Her stance altered from the quivering young woman waiting to die to that of an Elven warrior. The sword came up off the ground and she came up onto the balls of her feet. She crouched in readiness to counter what ever attack the Half Orc would use. The creature charged her expecting her to cringe and try to flee. That was not what happened. Loralil stood her ground and as the Orc reached her she attacked. He had left himself wide open, not expecting a whore to know anything about weapons craft. It was his last mistake. With a spin and a sweeping cut she dispatched the unbelieving Orc. He tried to speak but his head tipped back and exposed the slice across his throat. He sank down onto the ground, his blood soaking the sands. She didn't stop at killing her opponent. She hacked and hacked at the body until there was little left in one piece. Soon Loralil's vision cleared and she
stood in shock over the bloody pieces of the Orc she had killed. The tip of her sword wavered and dropped back down onto the sand as she let out a low keening sound. The crowd roared. This wasn't what they expected but they loved to be surprised. The only members of the audience who were upset were those who were here to see the killer of Cendric Half-Orc made to pay for his death. As one they left the stands and made their way down to the pens. They pushed their way past the guards and up to the Arena owner.
"What is this! Did you train the bitch? She was to die today!" This came from many voices. The small scared man who was in charge of Loralil faced them all. Standing, silent, with his arms crossed on his chest he waited for silence. After a moment the Orcs and half-Orcs became silent.
"There was no guarantee that the girl would die in the match."
"No one told us that the child could go berserk. She must die!"
He looked directly at the speaker. It was Cendric's brother. "I assure you that the girl will not leave the arena. She is a slave. How long can an elf maiden last in the arena? Berserking doesn't lend ability, it just adds power."
His opponent nodded. It was true that no elf maiden had ever been in the arena. Even the elf males only lasted a few months if made slaves. "All right. She is a slave. Don't pit her against anymore of my people though. She should be dead soon enough if she doesn't have the added benefit of beserking every time she fights. If she isn't dead within six months, I'll buy her from her owner."
"If she lasts past the six months you state, he would be a fool to sell her."
The Orc stepped forward. He would take no insults from a mere human. But after a good look at the man in front of him he backed off. Something in the eyes of this man told the Orc he would rather spit him than talk to him.
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CHAPTER EIGHT
A LOSS OF HOPE
The search for the missing maiden moved even more slowly. Karleen and Levy tried their best to keep Mika's spirits up. The lack of any reliable information on Greyfox tended to put the elf in a deep despair. How could one small woman entirely disappear? Even in a city the size of Greymer there should be some lead, some chance of finding out her fate. The only sure thing was that the girl still lived and that she was somewhere within the city's subculture. Levy could no longer get a lock on her position. He could tell that she still lived but he couldn't get anything else.
"Mika, we need to talk with the owner of the House of Elven Pleasures."
Mika lifted his eyes toward his friend. "What do you mean? Don't you remember what happened to us when we first encountered that woman? It took us four days to get out of the trap she laid for you. Never mind losing Katlin in the process!"
Levy winced. He didn't need to be reminded of what happened back then. The injuries he took trying to save Katlin still gave him trouble. If he hadn't had his magic he wouldn't be able to walk now. Poor Karleen hadn't been able to deal with the loss. She had felt all of Katlin’s dying agonies. Carrying her back to the healing sanctuary had been the only thing keeping Mika going.
"Mika, listen to me. The woman running the house is not the same."
"What?"
"A few months ago I helped a young woman gather the funds to buy out Madam Ursa. She has taken over the house and changed the way its run."
"And this is important how?"
Karleen spoke up, her eyes lighting up. "The new owner of the house would not know who you are and would have no connection to Elvenbane. She just might know who bought your niece. Even if she had no idea who you were she would be a connection into the madam's network. She might be able to tell you if any house was using a girl matching Greyfox's description.
He thought for a moment and then responded. "All right, one of you go check it out and tell what you find out. I be waiting with baited breath." He voice was a bit sarcastic.
Karleen and Levy looked at each other. "Mika, I really think you should go. You need to get out of this inn and doing something. Its time." Karleen p
ut an arm around the elf. I can't stay much longer you know. I'm late as it is."
Mika nodded. He knew that Karleen was expected at the healing house in Pastine in two days. The trip from Greymer would take over a week. She had sent word ahead that she would be late but she was pushing it. "I know, love. You have to leave. You're needed out in the field. You have stayed with me longer than I expected."
Mika, I'll go with you."
Mika turned to look at the mage. "Thanks Levy. I'm not sure I could go in there by myself." He paused. "I'm surprised you could." He raised a brow at his friend.
Levy winced. "Yes, well. I'm over that. I just want to get this over with. I've got things to get back to also."
"Alright. Let's check this place out. How's tomorrow morning sound?"
"How about right now? I've set up an appointment with the new owner today."
"You're kidding, right?" Mika looked surprised as Levy shook his head. "Okay. Okay. Let's go then."
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Mika and Levy walked up the steps and in the door of the house they had last snuck out of years ago. It was the same, yet different. The hangings and furniture were about the same. As they stood in the foyer a young woman of part elfin descent greeted them and took their names and cloaks. She then led them to a small sitting room and went to tell the madam they were here. After a few moments a tall and graceful full elfin woman entered the room. Her name was Salanithia Gracefall, known to her customers as Madam Sheila. She explained the house and its changes to the two beings sitting with her and as them a few questions.
"I have looked into the records of the house and found that there was indeed a young woman by the name of Greyfox working here years ago. She was sold off to another house a few years before I acquired this house."
Mika leaned forward, eager to hear what she had to tell him. "I talked to my connections in the other houses and found that she had been sold into an S&M place called the House of the Singing Wind." Mika started to get up but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. "No, don't." She paused and took a deep breath. "She no longer is in residence there."
Mika closed his eyes and sank back. Another loss. "Where is she now?"
"As far as I can tell, she was sold once again after she killed a client."
"What!"
"According to the rumor mill she lost control of one of her clients and killed him. She was sold out after that. After she was sold again I have no idea what happened to her. Madame Terry refuses to even hear the girl's name. She told my contact that she never had a girl by that name working in her house and even if she did she never let out information on her past slaves. She just said to look in the pit." The woman slowly got off her chair and kneeled down by Mika's side. He didn't notice. He turned to Levy, looking for something.
Levy understood. He sighed and reminded Mika that he had not been able to scry for the girl ever since before she left this house. "There is some type of scry shield on her. I can tell that she's alive but that's all." He looked down at his hands. "I'm sorry. If I had met the girl I would have a better chance of breaking the spell but...." He shook his head in defeat.
Mika understood. He sat in silence for a few moments and then started to sob. Levy looked at the elfin woman as she put her arms around his friend. He nodded at her look and rose to leave. Mika didn't need him now. He needed what the woman could provide.
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CHAPTER NINE
LIFE AS A GLADIATOR
In the months and years that followed Loralil spent much time training to use many sorts of weapons and killing many different beings. She collected many scars. Her body quickly lost the softness that even being an S&M whore had not removed from her body. She was as sleek as a seal. Her trainers were amazed that such a small woman could become so strong and so proficient at killing. She was still a slave and she still could not spend time with people who were like herself. In all it had been thirty years since she had been taken from her home. Her body had changed much in that time but to the human eye she still looked to be a child. A girl of fifteen. Her eyes were the only thing to betray this image. Anyone who looked into them saw worlds of pain. She made few friends for she would soon be fighting them in the arena. It was a lonely life but here there was no real chance to escape. If she could make two thousand kills she would finally be released and made a free Elf. She spent her free time training. After her first six months she had been given over to only one trainer. He name was just that, Trainer. He made sure that she learned something new, all the time. She knew how to use many different weapons. In the many years of loneliness she had found that a good way to forget was to increase her strength. To do this she lifted the weights usually reserved for the stronger races. In the years she spent here she had moved from the human weights to those used by the bigger races.
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One dark drizzly day Loralil was sitting in her room on the fighters wing of the Arena grounds. She had finished her bouts for the day and she had the next three days off to do what ever she wished. She could visit the baths, take one of the male whores or even go out to the market near the arena and buy some trinkets. She would have to go with one of the guards. They never let her go anywhere outside alone. She longed for the freedom to walk alone and the cool quiet of a forest. The city was dirty, noisy and too filled with humans. She had seen Elves here at the arena and had been pitted against them at times. She always hated that. She wished she could just talk to them, not kill them. The barracks she was kept in was small and for women only. She was the only female elf here.
On the few times she had taken advantage of the male whores offered to the fighters she tried to pick the half Elves. There were very few in that business and no full elves. She had only done that four times in all the years she was here, just on the days when she was the lowest. Her only fond memory of those times was the one male Elf to enter the arena under caverns. He had heard of Loralil and came to see the Elven woman who killed for pay. When he found out why she was here he told her he would stay the night. He held her in his arms and comforted her, singing soft elvish songs that reminded her of her mother until she fell asleep. He never touched her in a sexual way. She felt protected and safe for the only time since her parents died. He left too soon.
He had been here only for the once yearly competition. He would return in a year, he vowed. He also vowed to raise the moneys needed to free her and return her to her people. He never returned.
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CHAPTER TEN
REUNION
A year later Loralil watched for her friend. He wasn't to be seen. There was only one elf competing from outside the arena. He was very good and he quickly got through his bouts, disarming his opponents instead of killing them. She could teach him a few tricks but he had obviously fought for his life sometime in the past. Loralil watched from the entrance of the fighting grounds, he wasn't the elf she remembered from last year. She said a quick prayer for that elf. She hoped that he had just forgotten his promise. She didn't want to think that he had died in the outside. She turned her attention to the elf fighting in the ring. He was quite good. She stretched out and compared his style to her own. She would be up next. He wasn't her opponent. He had won his fight easily and stayed to watch Loralil.
When she had re-entered the barracks complex he had snuck over to talk to her. After a fight Loralil was always very depressed and would lie down and try to mediate. She never expected to have company, in all the years she had been here no one came to her room so soon after a fight. If she wanted company she had to seek it out. Her owner made sure of that. Even the elf from last year had to wait in the common room for her to appear.
She looked up when she heard someone clearing their throat. She just let her mouth fall open when she saw the Elf before her. He was the most handsome creature she had ever seen. He looked much like the father she remembered. With black hair and green eyes, h
e was slender and lithesome. Just the thing to make an elf maiden swoon.
"Hello. Am I interrupting?" His voice was musical, a deep tenor.
"Umm, not really." She sat up and eased herself into a comfortable position.
"My name is Mika Silvershaft. I watched your fight. You are very good."
"Thank you, so were you," Loralil replied quietly. She didn't know what exactly to say. He was the first Elf she had ever seen who was not on the point of her sword or dressed like a whore.
"How long have you been here?" He leaned against the door way of Loralil's room. His casual stance concealed the turmoil of his thoughts. He could see in her face the features of two dear friends who had been killed thirty years ago. Could this young Elf maiden be the daughter of his sister?
Loralil thought back and counted the years. She spoke, "I've been here for almost fifteen years. Are you a freelancer or a new recruit?"
"Freelancer." This was good. She could easily be the child he sought. He had tracked her down finally. The male whore who had told him of the Elf maiden who was a slave and a killer in the arena had been very sure she was the one he was looking for. He had bought the Elf out of slavery and sent him back to the elven homelands under a guard. The creature had no training in how to take care of himself. He had been sold into slavery at an even younger age than this girl. He had been only eight when he had been taken away from the caravan on its way to the elven bardic college. He was a very talented young child and had been sold many times. He had been brought into the arena as a special treat for the Elven maid who brought in the most money for her owner. They had been trying to perk her up. She had been depressed after having to kill a fellow elf. He never told her he was a whore and that he had been paid to cheer her up. The elf had felt bad enough when he met her. He told Mika that he had only held and sang to the girl. She had seemed very delicate to the boy.
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