by H. A. Harvey
“On tha Gateward front, General Ebal said a band of Tyrian raiders ambushed a patrol and killed a score of men, but they managed to drive them into tha Brogan Vale and an earth mage collapsed tha only Spireward exit behind them. With their rear flank secured, the general is crossing the Wittlebrook Ford and heading into tha borderlands.”
“I don’t know if your delays, or your brother’s incompetence is the bigger hindrance! What was Urdan thinking, placing Dracis in command positions? Your lot are long on muscle and short on brains.” Idala seethed. “There were supposed to be five hundred men drawn back to protect my land. The remainder was to focus entirely Spireward, to let the Gateward baronies get a good taste of fear and come begging for Urdan’s support.”
“My brother knows War, Baroness.” Gerizim growled, “Your little manipulation didn’t mention a second force attacking from the Gateward flank, nor insurgents leading a thousand slaves into the fray. No part of your plan said anything of losing half of the support troops sent from Draga and likely that baron’s support on the council. General Ebal is doing what he can to recover from a shortage on brains, but the shortfall was hardly his doing.”
Idala took long enough to bluster in outrage that her chance to reply was cut short as Tyvus’ reason for being in the courtyard became apparent. A large jailer’s wagon rolled in through the gate. Tyvus strode quickly between Gerizim and the baroness, breaking apart the conversation with a dismissive flutter of his deadly wings.
Only one of the wagon’s occupants was readily visible. The snowy white wings of a Falon passenger stretched along the sides of the wagon, acting as a privacy curtain for its prisoners. The wagon’s driver was a fat, unshaven old man, driving the wagon’s oxen on with the heavy caress of a long bull-whip. Two half-competent looking guards, likely deserters turned mercenary, walked alongside the wagon until it rumbled to a stop in front of Tyvus. The fat driver fumbled his way down off his seat and around to unlock the rear gate of the wagon.
Meanwhile, the wings within folded. Gerizim noted that the Falon seemed to be injured in at least one wing, for two other young Human women were assisting her, one in gently helping the wing fold, the other delicately lifting the Falon to her feet. The captain could have recognized the daughter of Earl Cirrus by her bearing, even if he had not been told to expect a second hostage later. The two humans seemed to be unremarkable common folk, probably decently alluring for their kind, but entirely too soft for his tastes. The blonde especially was rather pathetic looking. Mousy and small, she was barely more than a girl and her eyes darted about, regarding the world around her with obvious dread. The older girl with raven hair seemed harder. Her eyes also never stopped, but instead of fear, he saw calculation, searching. She was trouble. Well, maybe not all humans were useless.
The human girls steadied Lady Ourei as the guards took her hands and lowered her to the ground. Once her wing was bound to her side, Ourei strode elegantly over to stand in front of Tyvus defiantly. The frail, white-plumed girl stood in stark contrast to the dark, disfigured visage of Tyvus. The despicable steward reached out to brush the back of his fingers against Ourei’s cheek. The young noblewoman stepped back reflexively.
“Don’t be afraid, Ourei. I am an old acquaintance of your father’s.” Tyvus grinned, “You will get used to the scars in time.”
“I do not expect to be here for any significant amount of time.” Ourei returned levelly, “And it’s not your scars that I find repulsive.”
Gerizim decided the pampered noble couldn’t be all bad. She was such a grand judge of character. Tyvus chuckled.
“There will be no ransom, my dear.” The Falon purred in satisfaction. “You, Ourei, are the price I demanded for changing Baron Urdan into King Urdan.”
“I did not say anything about ransom. Your actions will be your own undoing, and I will be grateful to be in a position to watch.” Ourei maintained an unflinching bearing. “An Emissary approaches your door with the Lady of Stars walking beside him.”
Gerizim stepped up beside the Falon girl, glaring up at Tyvus from over her shoulder.
“She is mine, lizard.” Tyvus snarled in warning.
“His Lordship is still Baron by title. Until your part of tha pact is complete, tha lady is to be a guest of the Baron under my charge, by his own order.” Gerizim grinned toothily at Tyvus as he held a clawed palm toward tha main door of tha keep. “Lady Ourei, I will show you to tha quarters prepared for you if you will come with me.”
Ourei turned and walked gracefully past the seething Tyvus. The Falon girl walked only a short way before she stopped and turned to look back. A worried expression shadowed her face for the briefest of moments before being replaced by her previous austere expression. Her eye darted to him for just a moment, but the glance told him more than enough. She wasn’t checking to see if he’d noticed, she already knew he had. The oddity caught his interest, and Gerizim paused to look back.
The slaver had stood the other two girls beside each other and Tyvus stood in front of the small blonde Human. A wave of his bony fingers sent unseen blades along the girl’s woolen dress until it fell about her ankles in tatters. Beside him, Gerizim sensed Ourei tense as she started to move forward. He stepped between the scene and the young girl.
“Your father is already our guest, My Lady.” Gerizim distracted her at mention of her kin, “Your safety and his depend upon remaining out of tha fiend’s affairs as long as possible.”
The girl paused and searched his gaze with her eyes. Then, not finding what she was looking for, or perhaps the opposite, stepped back. However, she did not relax. Her hand that was not bound beneath her injured wing reached up and made to brush Gerizim aside. She seemed determined to at least bear witness to the slave girls’ fate.
Gerizim doubted Tyvus would do anything traumatizing to the girls in the square, so he stood to the side of Lady Ourei. The twisted Falon generally took great care to ensure the girls brought to him were not so much as bruised before vanishing into the rear wing of the keep, where Baron Urdan had granted Tyvus freedom to work uninterrupted by anyone short of the Baron himself. Tyvus’ tastes seemed more discerning than his apprentice’s, and he did not require a new distraction nightly. However, the master’s hunger seemed all consuming. Unlike Idala’s trysts, where the unlucky sod had half-decent odds of emerging in the morning alive, if broken, the girls Tyvus took to his rooms never emerged.
Tyvus finished examining the mousy girl and nodded to the Baroness. Idala and her entourage moved over to escort her through a side door. Tyvus dropped a handful of gold coins into the slaver’s hand and turned to follow.
“Ah, Sire?” The fat slaver cleared his throat, “What of tha other?”
“Useless to me, Ivor.” Tyvus waved, “Or did you tie that bloody bandage to her arm as some manner of crude decoration? I said unmarked maidens. Take her to the markets if you like.”
“I meant tha lady, Sire.” Ivor clarified, “I was told there would be a reward for delivering her unharmed.”
“Is she unharmed, Ivor?” Tyvus paused and turned back to lock the slaver’s gaze with his own.
“B-but her wing was broken before she arrived in my care!”
“Which is the only reason you still draw breath, Ivor.”
“That . . . girl cost me four prime packages, not to mention two of my guardsmen. One run off and tha other made a fatal change o’ vocation.” Ivor lamented, “How’m I supposed ta mend her wing? I aint a mage.”
“Then perhaps you should have invested some coin and found one if you wanted to collect.”
Tyvus chuckled before he turned and followed the baroness’ party into the keep. Gerizim watched as the fat slaver clearly considered, then thought better of shouting after Tyvus. The fat man grumbled under his breath briefly, then turned and waved to the guards. Ivor clambered back into the driver’s seat of his wagon while the guards grabbed hold of the rave
n-haired girl and drug her back toward the cage. The girl’s piercing blue eyes had been levelling a murderous stare after the baroness and her master. When the guards seized, her arms, she gave an almost feral snarl and struggled briefly, shouting after her mousy companion. The girl, apparently named Kelly, walked with her captors in a dazed state without responding. Then, Gerizim caught the raven-haired girl trade glances with Ourei, and the girl stopped struggling, but the fight never left her eyes.
“Hold.” Gerizim called after the slavers, taking two strides back towards the wagon. “Sell that wench to me. I’ll give you three crowns for her, as much as you’re likely to get at auction.”
The fat man paused, obviously keen on being on the path to forgetting this latest venture as soon as possible, and making some decent coin while avoiding the trouble of hauling her to market and having her cleaned up. “I’m not certain I want to make that sale, captain. That’s a good amount of coin for something that won’t last long. Humans don’t hold up long to Dracis affections and I’d hate for you to think I swindled you. Besides, she’s hardly broken yet.”
“I’ve no use for a broken spirit.” Gerizim scoffed, “As to how I treat my possessions, that’s no affair of yours once you have my coin.”
“Five crowns.” Ivor said with a grin, “She is smart enough to direct your other slaves, and strong for a Human girl. Besides, to our folk, she’s quite comely and would likely draw some eager bidders.”
“Two,” Gerizim growled, “And I’ll forget that I just heard confession to a freeman’s death in front of me.”
. . .
Karen rubbed her wrists and glared at the Dracis as she listened to the wagon bounce its way out the gate of the courtyard. The slaver had called her new captor ‘captain’, and he seemed to be of similar station, but no friend to the twisted thing that had taken Kelly. At least this twist of fortune kept her close enough to Kelly and Ourei that they might still work out some method to escape. However, if this scaled behemoth thought owning her was going to be enjoyable, he was in for a surprise. She set her jaw and stiffened proudly as the Dracis stalked up to stand in front of her. The powerfully built captain towered more than a head and a half over her, his crimson and black scales tightly coating dense, coiling muscles.
“Be careful, Karen.” Ourei’s thoughts drifted to her. “Dracis are the strongest of mortal folk, and known for their violent tempers. Pushing this jailer too far could be dangerous.”
“You know I don’t care if he rips me apart. I still think it would be better if he did.”
“Don’t Karen. Think about the cost of your last attempt. Just wait and watch for now. Have faith and await the right moment.”
“I am Gerizim, son of House Artes of Frosthold, guard captain of Kadis, and your master.” Gerizim introduced himself in a gruff, but even tone. “What is your name?”
Karen glowered up at the captain and folded her arms in defiance. It would take more than a couple bits of gold and claws to get her to take orders from him. It took years of dedication, debt, and the life of her father hanging in the balance for her to consider calling a man ‘husband’, and she’d be damned if she made it any easier for one to get ‘master’ out of her.
“Not even a name, eh? Very well, we’ll pick something besides slave or woman so you know I’m speaking to you.” Gerizim scooped a lock of her knotted and tangled hair forward over her shoulder, letting it slide along his scaled palm. “Raven, I think. Any objections? Very well, Raven. Come with me and you’ll be seen to . . . or don’t, my soldiers could use a little incentive at this point.”
Captain Gerizim returned to Ourei and, after politely beckoning her to follow, swung one of the massive doors of iron-bound oak open with little effort and strode into the stone hall beyond. Karen stood rooted in place for several moments while Ourei nodded for her to follow before flowing gracefully through the door behind the captain. She looked around the empty stone courtyard. Upon the top of the wall, two guards passed each other on a patrol, pausing briefly and looking at her as they did so.
“Karen, do not be silly, come along! How else are you going to see where they keep me?”
Karen’s feet finally made up their mind, even if she wasn’t entirely certain. She hurried quickly into the corridor. When she fell in next to Ourei, the hallway was broadening into a large banquet room. Four soldiers had joined the captain as he walked onward. The Dracis was speaking without turning to look back.
“Once you are settled into your chambers, I will have a healer sent to see to your injury.” One of the soldier escorts jogged ahead and held a side door wide long enough for the party to pass through. “It is my hope that you behave as a lady. If you do, you will be treated as a visiting guest, and your father will remain unharmed as long as my duty does not require otherwise.”
Karen wondered what Gerizim had planned for her.
“I cannot be certain, Karen. I believe he knows of my little magic trick, or at least suspects, and for someone like him, that is enough. I sensed him noticing me react to that thing approaching you and Kelly. Since then, it is like he intentionally is keeping his mind on trivial things. I believe he is using you as a distraction.”
Karen frowned. She wondered what Ourei meant by someone like him. Her mind conjured all manner of sick, monstrous things that could mean.
“Please! Do not be so creative. I meant he lives in the moment. There is little distance between thought and action. Often, he acts on raw instinct without really thinking about what he is doing at all, at least on the surface where I could find it. Most people work on what they’re going to say in their head at least a moment before they say it aloud. People that outwit others regularly tend to be the easiest for me to see coming, those that think a dozen moves ahead. His type outmaneuvers people as well, but this trick does not work on them.”
Gerizim paused and turned to face Ourei, “Threatening young women is beneath me, so believe that I will perform my duty, whatever it requires of me. My brother’s officers have informed me that you are diligent in humiliating and hindering your captors. I encourage you to think of me as your warden, for if tha Baron loses faith in my ability to keep you secure, you will not enjoy any alternatives.”
As the captain turned back to continue walking, Karen wondered if Ourei could overpower them with her magic, being a wizard and all.
“Hedge Wizard. There is a world of difference. I can touch all the elements, like a Wizard can, but at my strongest, I will barely draw a fraction of the power. Even if I were a Wizard though, with my training, I could hardly be able to do anything significant. I would either simply anger the Dracis, or kill the lot of us by accident. Malor instructed me to master the essence of each Talent individually before I learn any real effects or how to spellcraft. For him, subtlety is necessary until he gains more power. For me, it will always be essential.”
“Even when your wing is healed,” Gerizim instructed as they climbed a broad, spiral stair, “I advise against flying higher than tha peak of tha keep’s highest tower. Tha upper peaks are thick with drakes, several types of which fly quite well.”
Karen wondered what Ourei’s plan was.
“I do not have one, Karen. I have faith that I shall be where I need to be, when I need to be there. I just need to keep my eyes open. However, I have come to know that you are too brash to simply wait. There is something . . . twisted about the Falon in the courtyard and the noblewoman as well. Something is running through them that is not of Creation. Do not go near them if you can help it. This captain is dangerous, but he is no ally of theirs, and he, at least, is natural.”
Karen thought that wasn’t bad advice at all. The only problem was that they had Kelly. She would have to go after them eventually, or at least sneak past them. Perhaps Ourei’s subtle magic could help with that.
“No, Karen. I cannot help you, I will not. The threat that the Dracis does not wish to
utter is that any trouble from me at this point will be paid for by my father. The captain is paranoid enough that he does not think of the location they are keeping him, and the others did not know. Any plan for your escape will have to be made without me.”
“Here are your quarters, Lady Ourei.” Gerizim stated, holding this door himself as two of the guards took up posts on either side. “Know these four faces well. They will rotate watch on your quarters and escort you wherever you wish to go. No others will replace them unless introduced by myself. You have leave to go where you will, save for tha rear of tha keep and beyond tha city walls. You may dine in tha main hall, if you wish. However, if you’d prefer to avoid tha house steward, you may have your meals brought here.”
Ourei turned to Captain Gerizim and gave a slight curtsey as her range of motion was limited with her wing lashed to her side. “One more thing. When that monster was examining Kelly, he was not pleased. He does not think she will survive some sort of ‘preparation’, but is desperate enough to find one more that he will try anyway. Thank you, captain. I pray Fortune spares you from the Ruin that comes from opposing the will of Creation.”
“Save your breath,” Gerizim replied flatly as he beckoned Karen to follow him, “The Incarnates are parts within a machine. Praying to one of them is like praying to a gear within a clock. They will turn just the same, however many times you pray. Come, Raven.”
. . .
Karen fidgeted in front of the steel door. She felt ridiculous. The gown, if it could be called that, felt like more of a costume than real clothing. The core of the garment was a sweeping drape of crimson silk, woven into a brocade highlighted by silver threads swimming through it. The drape hung loosely over her right hip, sweeping up to cross under her left arm before being fastened over her shoulder with a silver clasp fashioned to look like a dragon’s claws. The remnant of the drape flowed behind her like a riding cape. A strange fitting that resembled armor as much as jewelry fastened around her hips beneath the drape, suspending an undergarment of soft, satin-weave black silk. A serpentine line of decorative armored plates climbed from the belt-like ring, up along her spine, to clasp a collar of fanned silver plates that finished with a small pauldron cradling her right shoulder and bicep. Sandals with silk straps ran up her calves to her knees, tethering elaborately engraved silver greaves to her shins.