The Emissary (Dawn of Heroes Book 1)

by H. A. Harvey

  The woman who had led her up from the bathhouses nodded to her and murmured a wish for luck before heading back the way they’d come. Karen considered running. She desperately wanted to bolt, but couldn’t think of anywhere to go. Even if she could get out of the city, leaving now meant abandoning Kelly to her fate. She couldn’t do that when Kelly had come back for her. Karen took a deep breath, then lifted the latch on the door and gave it a push. The heavy steel door didn’t budge, even after a second, harder shove.

  “It opens out.” Gerizim’s coarse voice came from within.

  Once she had pulled open the heavy door, Karen stepped gingerly into the captain’s quarters. Across from the doorway, Gerizim stood on a darkened balcony with his back to the door. Karen stood shifting awkwardly as she glanced about her, taking in the room. A large stone table filled the middle of the room. A collection of drawings, maps, and a few wood-bound books lay scattered across the table’s surface. The table seemed to divide the room’s two wildly opposed flavors of décor.

  To Karen’s right, the room was a lush apartment of silk draperies, a wardrobe of stained oak, and an arrangement of several sizes of well-fashioned steel chests and coffers. At the center of the wall, a thick mattress sat wrapped in satin and piled with rich-looking pillows. The walls were lined with several breathtakingly beautiful paintings of mountain landscapes and a wool tapestry that depicted an aerial view of the city with the colors of dawn dancing along the cliff walls.

  The left portion of the room hosted a broad, thick mat of woven grass. Ringing the mat, the walls were lined with racks where all manner of swords, axes, polearms, and flails hung at the ready. All the weapons looked to be forged of the same bright steel, save for those adorning the wall opposite the captain’s bed. There, a stone mannequin, wearing a suit of wickedly edged half-plate armor, stood facing the stone table. Flanking the displayed armor on one side was an impossibly heavy looking clawed war maul with a long, steel haft. On the other flank, a heavy length of chain hung from a thick steel ring. A weight of steel the size of a man’s head, fashioned to look like a roaring dragon’s head, hung at the lower end of the chain. The rest of the wall held a wild collection of battle-worn weapons of many varied metals; most were steel, but there were bronze weapons scattered among them, as well as a few of strange metals Karen could not name that glinted with gold, crimson, or blue-green sheens, and even some that seemed to be made of black glass with liquid silver swimming beneath the surface. The collection included curved swords, war-scythes, lashes of interlocking blades, bladed hoops, and several devices Karen couldn’t imagine how they were wielded in battle.

  “Your eyes held a good deal of fight, Raven.” Gerizim chuckled softly as he leaned on the balcony’s railing, still looking out into the night. “So, I imagine you are eyeing weapons, imagining that you might rush me from behind. You are welcome to try, but from your carriage, you may have fight but are no warrior. Besides, if you thought escape were a real possibility, you hardly would have come in here.”

  Karen glowered at the captain’s back. She had, in fact, been eyeing a barbed trident only two strides away with just such an intent. She had been wondering to herself whether, despite his strength, if striking him high enough in the back might take the captain over the railing and to his doom. She gave up the idea as her mind noted that, aside from the captain being right, even successfully killing or crippling him would only remove a barrier between Ourei and the scarred Falon, as well as giving the possibly hundreds of soldiers between the keep and the city walls an excuse to want her head.

  “Actually,” Karen deflected, “I was wondering why your door opens out into the hall. It seems to me that you risk bashing passers in the face.”

  “That’s no risk on my part. A door that opens out is more resistant to being forced. A person walking down tha hallway should be looking out for his own nose.” The Dracis chuckled as he turned and strode into the room, eyeing her up and down. Karen wasn’t certain whether she felt more like she was being ogled, or sized up as a meal. “Tha gown wears well on you. I thought it might.”

  Karen swallowed, “Can we just get this over with? I don’t think small-talk is going to make this any better.”

  Gerizim grinned wickedly and quickly rounded the stone table, closing the distance across the massive chamber in a handful of strides. The massive captain’s approach was so quick that Karen found herself involuntarily stepping back against the door. Her breath caught in her throat as Gerizim traced the smooth back of a curved claw up along the skin of her neck. He turned his claw so the point rested under the crook of her chin and tilted her head up to his with a finger. Karen felt suddenly like a swallow staring into the eyes of a viper.

  “Are you so eager to shed tha title of maiden, my little Raven?” Gerizim chuckled deeply again, sending a wash of hot breath over her that smelled like a hot coal stove. Karen didn’t dare speak with the sharp point of the Dracis’ nail resting on the soft underside of her jaw, but feeling a response of some sort was necessary, she very carefully gave a slight shake of her head. “Good, little bird. You’ve spirit, but your soft, Human body would be broken long before I could draw any pleasure. I’ve no interest in breaking an expensive thing so soon after her purchase.”

  Gerizim withdrew his hand and stood, beckoning for her to follow as he returned to the balcony. Karen swallowed again, touching her fingers to the spot where the captain’s claw had been to see if she were bleeding. Finding no blood, Karen started to collect her thoughts, momentarily scattered by panic. She shifted nervously, not wanting to stand close to the captain again right away. As Karen stalled, she stared down at the lavishly risqué dress, fidgeting with the drape idly.

  “W-why did you have them dress me like this, if it wasn’t for . . . for that?”

  “That is a Dracis gown. Only two Dracis dwell in Kadis that could afford such attire, neither of which would anyone be fool enough to offend. The gown makes it clear that you are mine, rather than a common slave that might be borrowed for distraction.”

  “I am not yours!” Karen found the declaration banished the lingering bits of fear. “You may as well kill me if you wish me to call you master, because it will never happen.”

  Gerizim turned and draped his thick tail over the balcony’s railing to perch upon it with the pythons that served as arms coiled across his chest. “I’ve no doubt it is within my ability to inflict enough pain and shame upon you to break that oath, Raven. However, as I told your mistress, I have no interest in lowering myself to threatening little girls. More than that, it would kill that alluring fire that first caught my attention. So, that would be self-defeating.”

  “My name is Karen, not Raven.” Karen returned harshly, “And it’s still a threat to say you don’t want to threaten me. So don’t think you’re so noble.”

  “You had the opportunity to give me a name for you, Raven.” Gerizim retorted, “Though I appreciate you giving ground so soon on that note, I think I like tha name I gave you better. And I will not make an effort to break you, so there is no threat. Instead, I think an arrangement can be reached.“

  Karen seethed in silence. She wanted to slap herself as she realized the Dracis had managed to maneuver her into giving him her real name so easily. “What sort of arrangement?”

  “I find your fiery temperament intriguing, and also believe you can be of use to me.” The captain smiled toothily, a sight that disturbed Karen more than a little, “So, I am willing to make a pact of sorts with you. I fully expect you to keep working to find an escape, and I welcome tha challenge, but there will be rules. How you go about your little resistance will have a direct influence upon your fate, and those of your friends.”

  “That just sounds like a different sort of threat.”

  “Take it how you please. I prefer to think of it as incentive.” Gerizim shrugged. “Think of it as being provided a choice. I have already gone out of my way to
spare you tha trip to Ivor’s slave pens. There, you’d have been cleaned with cold water and bristle brooms before being taken to his rather skilled handlers to be broken. Instead, you’ve had a warm bath with perfumed oils for your hair, and are having a conversation with me. If you prefer tha former, I am certain I can more than recover my costs by sending you to market.”

  Karen swallowed, “I suppose I can at least chat a bit.”

  “Good,” Gerizim replied, “Now, the rules will be simple. While you behave yourself, obey my commands, and maintain a courteous and respectful tone, you will be treated with like courtesy. You may wander tha keep freely, save those areas you heard me warn Lady Ourei against. You may also meet and speak with her when she wishes and your duties allow. You will dine with me, and have your own quarters here in tha keep with a wardrobe to outfit yourself. What’s more, I will arrange for added luxuries for your mistress’ father. Finally, the soldiers and staff of tha keep will be forbidden from laying hands on you save to prevent your escape or entering the rear of tha keep.”

  “And if I don’t obey and make nice?”

  “If you disobey, are willful, or caught trying to escape,” Gerizim continued calmly, “Tha privileges, and my protection, will be withdrawn. Depending upon tha circumstance, you may be treated as a common slave or a prisoner. If I come to believe you are a waste of my time, you will be sold at market.”

  “I thought you welcomed me trying to escape.”

  “I welcome tha challenge of preventing it, and cannot say I will mourn my defeat if you succeed. However, being caught means you have failed in an attempt, and I do not reward failure.”

  Karen was silent and still for a moment. Gerizim probably thought she was considering or plotting, but she was trying for all she was worth not to break into a grin or giggles. She wanted to laugh at the idea of the giant dragon-man playing like a cat with a mouse . . . even if she were the mouse. She wanted to grin because despite the fact that he was a Baedite and seemed to be an experienced practitioner of slavery, she found herself liking the captain and eager to see if she could beat him.

  “What duties are going to fill my day?” Karen asked when she was sure she could manage herself.

  Gerizim beckoned her again, “Come here.”

  Karen walked slowly around the table and out onto the shadowed balcony. She caught her breath in surprise as she found that it was not, in fact, night at all. The basin that housed the city was blanketed in shadow with small lights flickering and glimmering in the windows of houses, as well as up and down the street. However, the sky still stood the deep blue of late afternoon, with the Gateward lights just now starting to shine golden with the onset of dusk.

  “It’s beautiful.” Karen breathed, for a moment forgetting her state of captivity, the dark fate hanging over Kelly, even the hardships of the road since leaving Longmyst.

  “It is indeed. Enough that my grandsire decided to stay when he first set eyes on it.” Gerizim gestured down into the lighted courtyard to her right. “But that is what I wanted you to see.”

  Karen followed the captain’s hand with her gaze. Down in the training field, about two dozen men and horses were milling about chaoticly. A few managed to sit astride their admittedly beautiful mounts, hobbling forward like frightened children on their first ride upon a shying nag. Most of the soldiers barely managed to pull themselves halfway into the saddle before their intended mount spun them roughly back to the earth. Karen couldn’t manage to stifle a giggle.

  “Fortune’s sake, what are they doing?”

  “Those are my brother’s best officers,” Gerizim replied, “And they are learning to ride . . . or trying to.”

  Karen laughed so hard she snorted just a little. “You don’t learn to ride on a warhorse! They’re bred to chew rocks an’ piss nai . . . ah, they’re mean, by blood and training. A horse can tell if his rider knows less than he does . . . he’ll chew them up and leave them broken on the ground, especially those destriers.”

  “They have been, Raven.” The captain chuckled, but it didn’t sound entirely merry, “That is where you come in.”

  “Me!” Karen chuckled a little, “I’ve driven a few wagons, but I’m hardly any sort of wrangler.”

  “You’re Tyrian. You can probably tell the breeds from here. Tell me you couldn’t show those fools down there a thing or two about riding.”

  Karen fidgeted nervously with her drape. “I’d need proper clothes. Nobody’ll take me seriously in something like this, and it’ll chafe.”

  Gerizim lifted a length of the trailing drape with a claw then strode calmly back into the room. “You’d be taken seriously. Tha last girl who wore that gown was my daughter. Of course, I think she was twelve the last time that fit her. As I said, there are more outfits available. Though Dracis do not typically worry about chafing, I am sure some will do.”

  . . .

  Kelly blinked and looked around in confusion. A moment ago, she had been in a walled field of cobbled stone. There had been a man there, Falon like Ourei, but much taller and horridly ugly. He’d been talking to one of the dragon-men, then come over to her and made her dress fall to rags with a flick of his finger. Then that twisted, scarred hand had touched her cheek. For a moment, the grey stone and people were gone, and there was only roiling shadow. A dark, hateful voice called to her from the shadows. She couldn’t make out any words, but knew the voice was speaking to her. Then, an instant later, it was all gone and she stood in a small, dark room.

  It was more of a cave with a door than a real room. A heavy, iron-bound door stood about a pace in front of her. A dim, flickering light filtered through a small, barred hole in the door. The unsteady light danced around the walls of rough-hewn stone that surrounded her, each about the same distance from her as the door. Looking down, Kelly noticed that her dress had been replaced by a white cotton nightgown. The floor was hard to see in the limited light, but felt smooth under her bare feet. Suddenly, a shadow blocked the light outside. Kelly gave a startled yelp and stepped back, only to collide with some sort of smooth barrier and topple forward onto her knees in a daze.

  “Kelly?” A woman’s familiar voice floated through the window. “Don’t be frightened, it’s me.”

  Kelly looked up as she heard a heavy bolt sliding along the door. The door opened widely and she had to throw up an arm to filter the torchlight that rushed into her dark little room. When her eyes adjusted, Kelly recognized Karen standing in the doorway. Her friend wore a slim, red satin dress and matching slippers, and was just finishing picking a tray up off the stone floor. Karen smiled and stepped into the small room to sit close to Kelly, setting the wooden tray between them. On the tray was a crust of bread, a wooden cup and pitcher of water, and a plate with what smelled like well-seasoned beef.

  “I brought you some food.” Karen smiled, taking Kelly’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “I figured that you might be hungry if you’re feeling better.”

  Kelly was hungry, but thirsty more than anything else. The slaver had been in a hurry to finish his trip, so hadn’t stopped to give them anything all day. She also got the feeling that more time had passed than she thought since they were unloaded in the castle. Kelly scooped up the pitcher and thought about pouring herself a cup of water, but decided just to drink from the pitcher. Her mother wasn’t around to bug her about being ladylike, and Karen would be the last to judge her.

  When Kelly finally had to pause drinking to catch a breath of air, she gave a grateful smile to Karen, who returned a warm smile of her own. Karen seemed warmer, softer than normal. Aside from right after her mom died, Karen had been nice enough, but never what Kelly would call tender. Maybe it was just that, for the first time in weeks, they seemed out of immediate danger and hardship, but Karen seemed downright motherly; not the naggy, nosey bit, but more of a hot-soup and soft singing when you’re sick sort of mother.

  “Why am I in jai
l?”

  “Oh, Sweety, you’re not in jail.” Karen rubbed Kelly’s shoulder reassuringly. “You got sick in the wagon. The cool stone in here helped with your fever, and we had to be sure that other people didn’t get sick.”

  Kelly frowned, “I don’t remember feeling sick.”

  “We were really worried about you for a while.” Karen purred, “I think you were seeing things, then you blacked out. I’m glad it’s passed though. You should eat something, the steak has some remedy herbs to help you get your strength back. Don’t worry though, they don’t taste like medicine, more like some kind of lively pepper.”

  Kelly turned her attention back to the small tray. The meat smelled delicious, but she’d never been very good at spicy food, and hadn’t had anything but broth and unseasoned, dried food for so long, she decided it was probably safer to start with some bread. She might have been sick, her throat still felt a bit scratchy. Kelly poured some water into the cup and dunked her crust of bread in it before squishing it off in her mouth to swallow.

  “Oh Kelly,” Karen laughed softly, “You’ll dunk anything.”

  “Nuh-uh, you know I hate mushy food . . . but my throat hurts.”

  “Of course it does, silly me.” Karen nodded apologetically, “Don’t be afraid of the meat though, it’s quite tender, and the herbs in the sauce will probably help with your throat. I know you’ll love the sauce, it’s simply divine.”