by C S Marks
“The She-elf, Gaelen, is already gaining strength. She will be ready to ride very soon, for she is of a race that heals quickly. She will ride swiftly and well, and will aid us in our endeavor. But our other companion, the dwarf, will take longer to recover. He is old, and though he would rather die than admit it, he will be forever marked by this ordeal. The healer has stated that he will not regain full strength. He cannot ride swiftly, and…”
“Say no more!” said Mohani, her dark eyes at once anxious and comforting. “He will be welcome to share our house. I know he will rest well here, and our children will enjoy his company. They speak the common-tongue, even as we do. Rest your minds, my friends.” She looked over at her husband. “Is this not so?”
“Of course it is so, beloved wife,” said El-morah. “But, thank you for asking.”
Rogond knew there would be a large crowd in the tavern during the heat of the day, but when the afternoon waned, only those without work or family would remain. He did not wish for a crowd to be present when he and Galador went to speak with Haifa, and so they waited, drinking kaffa with El-morah and Mohani, mulling over their plan. It was a simple one: they would ask Haifa about Sajid and Castor, and if he was not forthcoming they would force the information from him by whatever means necessary. They would no doubt need to contend with Haifa’s cronies, so Galador’s primary task would be to protect Rogond. If all went as planned, no blood would be shed, though Rogond and Galador were more than ready to do so.
Rogond reflected on the situation, wondering just how far he would be willing to go. He was very angry, he had taken quite enough from untrustworthy folk, and his blood was hot within him. Yet he was not a killer, and never would be unless he had little choice.
Always before, that choice had been easy—there was no alternative to killing Ulcas. But these were men, and though they were enemies, men they remained. Rogond knew how different they could be; men like El-morah, who were intelligent, trusty, and courageous, stood beside men such as Sajid, who at the present moment was more loathsome to Rogond than any Ulca.
It was easier for Galador, for although he held a greater empathy toward men than did many of his race, he would have no trouble whatsoever with the thought of killing anyone who held Nelwyn against her will.
They would need to be cautious. They had already made enough enemies, and dead men have brothers, fathers, and sons. Haifa was no doubt on his guard, for he would surely know of the Company’s plight.
El-morah agreed. “Haifa has many ears listening for him,” he said. “If he was anywhere near the House of Shiva, he would have heard your friends crying out in the night. I know it was a sound I will not soon forget.”
“Nor will I,” said Rogond with a growl, his eyes flashing. In that moment he truly hated Sajid, Asaad, Haifa, and all others like them. Asaad had already met with his Day of Reckoning. If he had his way, Rogond would see to it that neither Sajid nor Haifa would profit from their evil actions. He gripped his sword-hilt, the color rising in his face, as El-morah removed the half-filled mug of strong kaffa, stating that, in his opinion, Rogond should drink no more of it.
“Do you want me to accompany you, my friends?” he asked, as Rogond and Galador rose to their feet and prepared to leave for the tavern. “You might need another set of eyes watching your backs.”
“You will do no such thing,” said Mohani, her face pale. Rogond could hardly blame her.
“I will decide my own actions, if it please you, my wife,” said El-morah, his face darkening a bit beneath his good humor.
Galador stepped in quickly, for neither he nor Rogond wanted to cause an argument between these good people. “El-morah, we give you our thanks, but I believe Rogond and I can manage; we would not involve our friends in conflict with their neighbors. We will return when we have learned what we want to know.” They bowed and said their farewells, stepping out into a late afternoon sun that had washed the white dwellings with gold.
The tavern was unpleasantly smoky, and smelled of strong drink and unwashed men. Rogond and Galador peered inside. They had no intention of entering by the front door.
Shiva had told them of a rear entrance. He knew it well, for when the drunken brawling got out of hand, and men were injured, he would be called there. Often, he came too late. Now Rogond and Galador beheld about a dozen armed men in the tavern, including Haifa, who was behind the counter where the liquor was kept.
“You are certain of this?” said Galador, as Rogond gripped his spear-shaft in one hand and his sword in the other.
Rogond looked down at his tunic, at the small, faint stains left there by Gaelen’s soaking-wet form, remembering her anguish as he held her. “Oh, yes, my friend,” he said quietly. “I have never been more certain of anything. Let’s show them how we deal with rats in the north!”
Galador nodded, and the two of them crept quietly in, Galador nocking an arrow to his bow. Rogond drew himself up and took a deep breath, his hands clenched upon his weapons. Then he suddenly strode forward, approaching Haifa from behind before he was even aware, slamming the sword on the counter and grabbing him by the collar of his robe before he could react.
“Let us counsel together, you and I,” he said in a soft, menacing voice.
Haifa’s eyes grew wide. There was a spear-point at his neck, and a very tall, strong, enraged man holding him by the collar. He swallowed in a dry throat, his eyes darting toward the knot of men seated at a table in the corner, who had drawn their weapons and half risen to their feet.
One of them raised his right hand to cast a bright dagger at Rogond, but cried in astonishment as Galador’s arrow pinned his sleeve to the wall. The Elf had thrown back his hood and now moved into the open, bow drawn, speaking to them in a voice charged with power. “Don’t move, any of you! The next one who raises a hand to my friend will never move again. Doubt me, and die. I have many arrows!”
These men had not looked upon an Elf before, but they had heard the stories, and Galador was no longer concealing his nature. “Raise a hand to him, or to me, and I will take your lives…perhaps even your souls! We Avinashi are deadly foes. Leave now, while you may!” The light radiating from his face and the menacing tone of his voice convinced them—they ran from the tavern as Rogond forced Haifa down onto the counter, the spear-point still at his throat.
“Where is Sajid, the serpent? Where has he gone? We know that you are in league with him. Speak quickly, or I swear you will never speak again.” There was no doubt of Rogond’s fury, yet Haifa underestimated him.
“I know nothing of Sajid. He is a drunken villain, and a fool. I am not such a fool, and would never throw my lot in with one. You are no killer, northman. Think about what you’re doing.”
Rogond’s face twisted into an expression of pure ferocity, as he drove the spear-point into Haifa’s neck just enough to break the skin. “Are you willing to wager your life on that opinion, you loathsome wretch? I detest you and everything you represent, and your lies have harmed my friends. I should kill you right now, but I will wait until you have answered my questions. If what you say pleases me, I will spare your life. If not, you will pay a high price for your reluctance. Do you take my meaning?”
Haifa did. “What do you wish to know?”
“Tell me of a man named Castor. Tell me where we may find him, and waste no time in doing it. When I grow impatient, my hands are unsteady.” He dug the spear-point into Haifa’s neck, bringing a trickle of blood onto his robe.
Galador called to Rogond in his own tongue: “Make haste, for those men will soon return with more of their fellows. We have caught them off guard, but they will recover quickly. We had best be gone ‘ere they do!”
Rogond tightened his grip on Haifa, as the frightened man told of Castor, the slave-dealer, and where he might be found. When he had finished speaking, Rogond looked into his eyes. “Tell me why I should believe one word of what has just been told to me,” he said, “and I will refrain from choking you to death on the spot.
Ah. No answer? Well, I’m not surprised. Now, Haifa, we will begin again. You have ten fingers, but you have certainly told more than ten untruths. I will break one of your fingers for each lie you have just told, unless you replace it with the truth. I will break one of them now, just to show you that I am quite serious.”
He looked over at Galador. “If he tries to escape me or screams too loudly, shoot him, please.” Galador nodded, drawing silently upon Haifa, who began to whimper as Rogond gripped his right hand tightly, bending the index finger almost to the breaking point. Haifa gave a fearful wail, but Rogond was impassive.
“I have no sympathy for you. Think of this as a lesson in the rewards of honesty. Is there something that you wish to tell me now, or shall I bend this back just a little more? He continued bending Haifa’s finger back uncomfortably in his iron grip.
“You wouldn’t dare!” gasped Haifa, and then spat at him. There was a wet snap, and Galador winced as Haifa cried out.
“I have no time for your lies or your defiance,” said Rogond. “When I run out of fingers, I shall break your miserable neck. Are you certain there is nothing you would recant?”
“Yes, yes…I may have been unclear,” said Haifa. He looked with fear upon Rogond, whose eyes were like stone. For the next several minutes, he told quite a different story from the first, and Rogond listened intently. At last he was silent, save for moans of pain. Rogond looked over at Galador. “Was he truthful this time, do you think?”
Galador considered. “If we had believed him the first time, we would have no hope of finding Nelwyn. I think you should break at least one more of his fingers, just in case.”
“No, no…I swear to you on my life, you will find Castor at the slave-market of Bezaltor. He will most certainly take your friend there to be sold, and then, who knows? If you hurry, you will get there in time to prevent it. Please…I cannot ply my trade with useless hands. Release me, if you are a man of honor. I have done as you asked.”
When he was satisfied that Haifa had told the truth at last, Rogond released him. “I want you to know that it took all restraint within me to not shake you like the rat you are and break your miserable neck, or choke the life from you just now,” he said.
“No doubt, northman,” Haifa replied, still shaking with fear that was evident in his tear-streaked face as he cradled his right hand, hunching his shoulders protectively over it. His eyes narrowed with hatred of Rogond and Galador as he looked up at them. “You got what you came for. Now I would advise you to leave this place and never return. This is my establishment, and I decide who is allowed here. Return at your peril.”
“Your threats didn’t worry me,” said Rogond. “You are a small man, and only of small concern. You needn’t worry—we have no desire to set foot in this den of vipers again. But if I hear that you have sent warning to Castor, if you interfere in any way, I will return and finish you! You will have no chance to speak in your behalf, for you will not see from where my blade falls. The vipers will need to find another den. Remember that we have shown you mercy, and do not interfere. We take our leave of you.”
Once outside, Galador addressed Rogond as they made their way back toward Shiva’s House. “I can’t believe you actually broke one of his fingers! I had not seen this side of you before. You will ever be his enemy, Aridan. I know that grieves you to no end, yet Haifa is indeed a rat, and rats like to strike from dark hiding places. We had best be cautious.”
Rogond nodded as they walked along in silence. “We’ve known one another for a long time, yet there are still things you don’t know about me. Sometimes rats just need to be spoken to in a language they can understand. It’s not the first time I’ve used such tactics, and they are remarkably effective. I’ll admit—I was angry…in fact I am still angry, and we didn’t have time to waste in courteous debate. At any rate, I am glad I have a ferocious Avinashi for a friend. They will surely fear to attack me lest you take their souls!”
They both chuckled at this, entering Shiva’s dwelling to find Fima and Gaelen still sleeping. Galador kept watch while Rogond sat beside her; his anger had left him weakened and drained. This was not yet ended. Rogond knew the vipers wouldn’t allow some upstart northman to best them without attempting retribution.
He sighed and stroked Gaelen’s hair, whereupon she stretched somewhat stiffly and opened her eyes. She smiled when she saw him, and he read her message clearly. You have done what you must, and now we move to the next step in the journey. I will aid you, whatever happens. You have done well. The trust he saw in her artless face moved him such that he embraced her, feeling life and vitality flow back into him. Though Gaelen was not yet strong, she apparently still had enough strength to share.
Chapter 11: THE SELLERS OF FLESH
At dawn the Company made their final preparations to leave the oasis so that they might find Nelwyn before she could be sold. Fima was unhappy at being left behind, but he was of a practical nature and understood the need for it. He was still very unsteady on his feet, and he grew weary at the slightest exertion. Rogond noticed that his normally ruddy complexion was pale, and there were more lines in his face than before. His eyes, formerly bright and sparkling with good-natured energy, now were slightly dull, as though still struggling beneath some burden that drew the life from them.
Fima knew that he could not ride with the Company. They would go as swiftly as their mounts would allow, and he would burden them, for he was no rider. He therefore agreed to stay in the House of El-morah, where he would be well looked after. The children, in particular, would grow to love him. Fima told the most entertaining stories, and even though the younger children would not easily understand him, Mohani could translate for them. Fima was so expressive that they were all rapt as he told tales of dwarves and dragons; in this alone he seemed inexhaustible. Yet he would spend much of his time sleeping, trying to regain his strength. He prayed that the Company would return for him, as Rogond had promised.
Gaelen had fared much better, but even Elves cannot heal fully in so short a time, and she would be taxed for a few days yet. It would have been quite pointless to suggest that she remain behind. Finan had been overjoyed to see her, nickering softly as she stroked his neck. He dipped his beautiful head down so that she could rub his black-tipped ears.
I tried to aid you, but I could not. I would fall protecting you. Please do not let them tether me ever again! He jostled her gently and she patted him before turning back to prepare her gear, leaving him untethered, for she knew he would not stray from her. This irritated Eros and Réalta, who were both tied securely to the rail. Rogond could tie knots that not even Eros could undo.
Malvorn, who was also tied but did not see the sense in objecting to it, was amused. Stop complaining, you two. It’s not so bad being tied. Perhaps they have left him loose in the hope that he will run off, and we’ll all be rid of him and his bothersome screaming. Obviously, our folk intend to return for us! Malvorn would have smirked if he could have.
Finan lifted his head high, tossing his long, black forelock from his eyes. Tell yourself whatever you like, Servant of Men! The Soft-Singer has placed her trust in me…she leaves me free so that I may come to her in need. You’re just too thick-headed to know it. He turned his hindquarters toward Malvorn in a gesture of contempt.
Eros then aimed both hind legs at Finan, deliberately kicking him with only enough force to startle him. Finan leaped forward, snorting, as Eros, Réalta, and Malvorn shook their heads in amusement.
And you are apparently too thick-headed to know to place yourself out of range of my hindquarters. Soft-Singer left you untethered, but I still managed to put my feet to your hide!
Finan turned and struck hard at Eros, snorting, his flinty black foot raising a small cloud of dust as it slammed into the ground. Eros was not impressed. Save it, O Mighty Battle Mount, for you do not intimidate me in the least! Come now, and let us be friends. You still have not rested well, and you are high-tempered. You had best save your stren
gth, for today we ride, and we shall all be tested.
This was very true. The Company would need to ride as fast as they could manage, and they hoped that the information given them concerning the likely location of the slave-dealer was correct. If they lost their way, they would not be able to aid Nelwyn. No one wanted to imagine her fate if they should fail her.
Galador had already made his intentions known—anyone who touched her in an unseemly manner would suffer, and anyone who harmed her would die.
He had been plagued with dreadful imaginings of what might be happening to his beloved. Normally grim and silent, he was now restive and given to outbursts of temper. Once, with no provocation at all, he reached out and grabbed Rogond’s arm, his grey eyes wild, saying: “If they kill her, I shall not bear it. I will send my own spirit to the Far Shores rather than live without her. I will follow her as quickly as I can set my blade to my own throat!”
“Peace, my friend,” said Rogond, who was concerned and even a little alarmed. “Let’s trust it will not come to that. Nelwyn is of too great a value to them…they will not harm her. And rest assured we’ll travel much more swiftly than a slaver’s caravan. We will find her.”
As the Company made ready to depart, Rogond kept a watchful eye, for he wondered whether Haifa might attempt retribution for the damage done to his hand, and to his pride. By now it was likely that everyone knew he had been forced to give information betraying the location of Castor to this northern stranger. Haifa had lost face, and might even face the wrath of Castor one day. Even though Rogond did not consider Haifa to be much of a threat, he would sleep lightly until they were far from the oasis.
His fears were not unfounded. There were those in the oasis to whom the lives of others were valueless, whose services could be had for a few pieces of silver. But Haifa had been advised otherwise by Kamal, who had explained that his “employer” had insisted that Rogond not be harmed.
“If you have him killed, I will be blamed for it. I have little doubt these strangers will meet with their doom soon enough. And I doubt they will come back here, for I have set them on the path to Fómor.” Kamal then laughed ill-naturedly, pressing a few gold pieces into Haifa’s hand. “A little something for your pain,” he said. “And if that pain is too great, just think of those fools attempting the wide crossing for absolutely no reason at all! Even if they survive the journey, the Corsairs will have them, and they will not be at all considerate. That should ease your pain.”