By My Side ... (A Valentine's Day Story)

by Christine Blackthorn

  So she might succeed, might manage to make him think Adrianus knew of an ErGer, even where to find one -- but not give the orcs a reason to invade and take the creature from the Court of Innsbruck by the simple expediency of force. She had to be careful, and smart, in this negotiation. If he agreed to negotiate, that is. An ErGer was a prize too many had risked more than a few deaths for. She needed to make sure she did not give him an additional reason to destroy her home.

  The ErGer were rare, the records showing a mere handful to exist at any time. For most supernatural races the lure was the ErGer's ability to turn courtiers into the most loyal of followers. An ErGer engendered the willingness to sacrifice all, life, limb and possessions, in the service of their Lord, without question or hesitation. Betrayal became impossible. That was not a gift to be underestimated in a world of intrigue and political machinations.

  Though, for the orcs, there might be another lure. For a vagabond race of slaves only just forming a people, its ability to give those in contact with the ErGer an inalienable sense of home might be even more important. Elena knew she held the one bargaining chip which might, possibly, convince the orc before her to agree to leave without taking the Court of Innsbruck for his own. However, his next words proved him a skilled negotiator, not easily fooled:

  "An ErGer? An interesting proposition. But I have never heard of an orc ErGer and no other race would survive the rigours of our life. Too fragile to be worth the trouble."

  She recognised the ploy for the test, and taunt, it was. Just for a moment she was drawn into the game of wits, forgetting the price she might pay for failure.

  "Milord, every day you welcome new followers. How many of them are spies sent by the courts? By your enemies?"

  Grudging respect flickered in his reptilian eyes, gone before Elena could even be sure she had seen it. The tense muscles around his mouth twitched, relaxed, in an almost invisible hint of a smile.

  "An ErGer does not make it any less likely that my enemies will send spies -- or remove the ones already in my following."

  "No," she countered "but an ErGer makes sure that any spy they send will become yours, body and soul. A direct line into the courts of your enemies."

  "Hmm." He paused as if to think about her argument and she held her breath, hoping in all desperation. She had to reel in her desire to babble, to spew out all the arguments she had thought of on her way here. But she kept the words back with an iron will, her teeth clenched, as if their physical barrier could hold back the deluge of sentences. She could hear her jaws crack under the pressure she put on them. It hurt. In a negotiation, too much information might be just as damaging as too little.

  He stroked a finger over his upper lip, a conscious gesture of the pretence of deep thought, and her eyes were captured by the shape and form of his mouth, a decadent softness surprising in his otherwise so hard face.

  "So, what is the price of owning you?"

  His voice had lost some of its taunt, some of its brutal viciousness. Enough so that listening to the melodic notes of the warmer tones made her miss the implications of his words at first. He had not asked what her price was, but what price was demanded for the possession of her. Her eyes jumped to his, her breath catching in her throat. She had never told him she was the ErGer in question.

  "Milord..." Elena began to refute his words, to deny their truth, but she was silenced by the hard finger coming to rest against her lips. Anger rose in those yellow eyes again, enough anger to make her reconsider.

  "Girl, don't insult my intelligence. I could smell what you are from the other side of the room. It is not the first lie you have told today. So, what you want in exchange?"

  She could have argued, could have pointed out she had never actually spoken a lie, but doubted this painfully blunt, and hard, man would appreciate the difference. So she took a deep breath and continued:

  "Lord Adrianus..."

  His raised eyebrow was all the warning she needed, all the indication that even her last lie would not stand up to his scrutiny. Her knees went weak and a low trembling started in her stomach. Nevertheless, she risked all on the one card, gambled with all their lives and continued:

  "I am offering myself against the safety of the Court of Innsbruck and your permanent retreat from the area."

  "That is a tall order indeed. More so as you cannot guarantee there will be an actual ErGer bond developing with you, even were I to try to initiate it. It seems your current Master has not been able to bond you. So you are offering me an uncertain advantage in exchange for removing my people without a fight, destroying their first chance at a permanent residence as free beings? That seems hardly to be a good trade."

  A bone-deep rage rose in her, wiping away all caution and rationality in its wake. How dare he diminish what she was offering him, discard the advantages his people could draw from it -- and all because he looked at it from the perspective of one of the strong, one of the powerful.

  "How typical. As anyone with power you only see what you want to. Don't you realise what an invasion will mean for those of your people who cannot defend themselves. Are you really willing to let them suffer and die in your vainglorious need to conquer a court only because it is inhabited by a race you consider an enemy? Why not leave, find a place where they will not have to fight, where they can create a home, a home virtually guaranteed with an ErGer in your midst? If you cannot actually bind me, you are still able to drain me and buy yourself enough time to create a future for them. There are acres and acres of unclaimed land between here and the Italian courts, many more ruined castles than you could ever make your own. Take one of those and leave here without a fight -- but with an ErGer. Even without a guaranteed bond, I am a very good bargain. I might be dead from blood loss in three or four years, but that is still more time than most of those children out there would have without it if you start a war."

  She had stepped closer to him in her anger, stepped into his personal space and in her vehemence she had forced him to retreat a step in turn. It gave her a small feeling of satisfaction, even though her good sense reasserted itself with a vengeance, reminding her it might not be wisest to bait the monster. Suddenly, she had no idea what to do anymore. Instinct told her to lower her eyes, her shoulders rising in expectation of the violence sure to follow, but her pride kept her from outright cowering before him. Pride had always been her downfall.

  His fingers were cool when they gripped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze, cool and dry.

  "Not so much of a mouse, are you?" He sounded almost pleased. The scent of mountain passes and pine forests surrounded her and she realised with surprise that it was his scent. Somehow she had always thought orcs would smell ranker, more corrupt, not like the scent of freedom and adventure. The orc bent closer and she could feel his next words like a breeze on her skin:

  "So, girl, let me tell you what I want in exchange for leaving. I want you, body and soul. I want your oath that you will do everything in your power to assure a bond, including giving me every single scrap of information which might aid me in the endeavour. In addition, I want your free will. I want your absolute obedience. You will follow every order I give you. You will sleep when I tell you to, eat what I give you to eat, do whatever I demand without hesitation or prevarication. You will be mine, if not by bond then by your own will. And you will never, ever, lie to me. I do not like lies."

  She met his eyes and was swallowed by the unbreakable will in them. He knew exactly what he wanted and would go to whatever lengths he needed to achieve it. If she agreed, if she gave herself in these negotiations, she would lose any power over her own destiny, would lose the right to make even the smallest decision, loose that right to him. It did not matter, she had no choice. But there was one condition she had to set:

  "I will not harm another on your order. Aside from this I will pledge you my obedience and full cooperation to the extent I am physically and mentally able. And I promise you truth. I promise not to lie."

/>   There, she had made the decision. Something lightened in her. She had set the wheels in motion and now there was nothing she could do anymore. The inevitability was strangely freeing. His eyes searched hers, bored into her as if he could find what he was looking for in her very soul. She held still under his gaze, let him search for whatever it might be he wanted to see. He seemed to find it, for he nodded slightly, more to himself.

  "Absolute obedience." He repeated. It was hard to read anything in that face, so similar and still so alien from a human's. "And no lies. Remember that."

  "Yes." No doubt remained in her voice. She had made her choice. His hand dropped from her chin, the cold of the night touching her skin where there had been only the warm impression of his fingers. She shivered.

  "Well then, I had better tell my people to pack up." His words were almost cheerful and the triumph in his eyes was near touchable. She worried her lower lip between her teeth.

  "Sir, I would ask the boon to return to the court for an hour to make my goodbyes." Would he trust her to stand by her word? It somehow mattered to her, not only the chance to see her family one last time, but the knowledge he did not question her honesty. The seconds passing until he answered were almost painful.

  "I do not doubt your honour." The tense muscles of her neck loosened and she sighed in relief. Then she saw the pity in his eyes and knew what he would say before he continued:

  "But you will not see them again. You are mine and all links to them are broken."

  Suppressing the sob rising in her throat hurt.

  Travel

  The orcs were frightening in their efficiency. Within an hour they were on their way, abandoning the dark castle and leaving behind little evidence of their intermittent residence there. As they made their way upwards along the valley ground, Elena riding one of the small, sturdy horses of the region, the lights of Innsbruck became nothing more than a memory, a reminder of her past and those she loved. It took all her resolution to follow the path she had chosen and not to turn the horse and ride back home. Over the next few days sheer exhaustion would drive even her bone-deep misery from her mind.

  Orcs were night active, as was the nature of many other supernatural races, and their bodies seemed insensitive to the harsh conditions and the cold in every respect. Even the children, of which there were fewer than Elena had originally assumed, had little trouble keeping up with the predominantly male contingent of orcs.

  They travelled only at night and the biting winter temperatures made the journey excruciating. The deep snow proved to be the hardest challenge, turning each step into a concentrated, strength-seeping effort. Elena had never been as exhausted in her life as she was on the end of that first night -- and in the following nights her weariness only increased.

  A strange routine developed. At night they travelled, whilst the days passed in an exhausted blur devoted to recovering from the exertions of the night before. As soon as the weak winter sun crested the horizon, their cavalcade would find shelter, choosing caves and, on occasion, a mountain hut standing empty for the winter months. Elena learnt that orcs were less susceptible to the effect of the sun than vampires tended to be -- but they nevertheless became sluggish, preferring to remain at rest throughout the short daylight hours.

  This susceptibility to sunlight was the only weakness Elena ever saw in the orcs. It made her feel a little better to find some form of vulnerability in her travelling companions. At least her own human metabolism did not force her into a stupor when the sun rose; though as exhausted as she was, she often collapsed as soon as the cavalcade halted for the day. She was often asleep long before the orcs had settled, leaving them to deal with the realities of preparing shelter on a mountain in winter with a quiet efficiency of long practice. Her ability to wake fully before the rest of her travel companions allowed Elena to preserve some of her own pride in the face of the uncompromising strength and endurance of these people. Though it also led to some uncomfortable moments.

  On the first day she left the little hut the women and children had sheltered in overnight long before any of the orcs stirred for the night. Elena had been careful not to disturb the adult males, which had bedded down under the overhanging branches of tall fir trees and in hastily dug snow hides, as she left camp. It had been easy, no one awake to hinder her, no one questioning her actions. Even the sentries had been positioned too far off, and were too concentrated on a threat from outside, to bother with her.

  The sun was high in the sky, its light glittering off the snow crystals, in blinding intensity. No new snow had fallen during the hours of the day and retracing their steps was less strenuous than she had expected. The walk in the winter sun helped her settle her mind and gave her much needed time to sort through her muddled emotions, to reconcile what she had expected from the orcs with what she was observing.

  Few ErGer made it to adulthood, none unbonded. It had always been a reality of her existence, her death an eventuality, a probability rather than a slim possibility. Elena had been taught, from an early age, to be cautious and wary of other supernaturals. Again and again she had been made aware of the brutality, the threat, the slow death, she could expect from any of them, even from those who loved her. When she had come to sacrifice herself to the orcs, she had not expected to survive the first hour, let alone the first night. She had not thought they, the orcs, the most vicious among the supernaturals, could resist the lure of the ErGer's addictive nature. But they had -- and she had no idea how, or why.

  Snow crunched under her boots, her small feet finding purchase on a path the much larger orcs had trodden the night before. The air was cold, stinging on the exposed skin of her face, but holding that quality of quiet life only found in the high mountains. She breathed in that clarity, that quiet eminence of natural solace in the shadow of these majestic massifs. She had spent all her life in the foothills of the Alps, but only truly felt them here, away from the town, away from civilisation. A stray thought rose, its fanciful nature making her grin. Poetry was not in her character, but she could not suppress the comparison between the majestic, immutable nature of the mountains surrounding her and the deep dignity, and threat, embodied by her travelling companions.

  Her thoughts had come to rest on that comparison by the time she reached the little mountain farm they had passed in the early hours that morning. Her smile stretching broader as she imagined the faces of different orcs in the shapes and lines of the cliffs surrounding her. She wasn't certain the farmer would have been comfortable selling her milk and cheese, let alone letting her leave again without that smile. Even with it, he was reluctant to let a young woman out into the winter day and she had to concoct an improbable tale of a brother and a family emergency.

  Still, it gave her a strange sense of satisfaction to carry her heavy bundle back up the hill. Her hand hurt from the rough fabric of the sack the farmer had given her after she realised, with embarrassment, she had omitted to bring anything to carry her bounty in but in her heart, she felt good.

  The going was harder on her way back, her feet slipping more than once, her thigh muscles burning from the exertion by the time she was halfway back to the camp, but in her hand she held a contribution to their lives, to the success of their travel. For the first time she had been able to do something useful -- not just be something useful.

  When the hut came into view, Elena saw him, Reschkar, standing in the doorway, his eyes turned towards her, towards the path down the mountain. He was fully armed, a pack slung over his shoulder. She could almost feel the alien gaze following her every move as she trudged towards him, saw in her mind the yellow glitter of those predator eyes before the waning distance between them let her meet them in reality. He took no step towards her, remained leaning against the doorjamb. His blank face gave no indication as to his thoughts.

  Reschkar did not speak, not even as she reached the flat, downtrodden earth before the little hut, nor as she stepped up to the door. He simply looked at her, expressionless. Un
til that moment, Elena would have said she had surpassed fear about her fate, her future, had transcended hesitance and uncertainty, to attain a quiet acceptance. In a way she had resigned herself to being a pawn, a powerless doll kept for reasons out of her control, years ago.

  But looking at him, at the monster he was, she realised all that equanimity, all that resignation had been a lie, a lie of the worst sort -- a lie to herself. She had not chosen to come to him because she had given up. Rather the opposite, she had chosen to come to him because she finally was ready to live, and if it was just for a fleeting moment. Last night she had, for the first time in her life, made an active choice. True, it might turn out that the only choice she had made was to change the identity of her eventual killer, but that did not diminish the power in the action. For that moment, the moment of choice, she had been an independent, free agent.

  And her action felt right, felt good, even powerful. For the first time in years she felt as if she could breathe, as if an iron band had been loosened around her chest. Oh, that band was still there, still ready to be tightened again, but now she could sense what it would mean to live without it. She could sense what a life without fear might be. And then she met those yellow eyes. She almost faltered.

  In the clear mountain air, her fingers tightening around a bag full of food she had acquired, its symbolism poignant in her mind. She had been the one to find the treat, her alone. Elena looked at him, imbuing her gaze with all the challenge she did not dare put into words. It said: I am not quite as useless as you thought -- back off.