by Ian Rodgers
Her estimate that they’d be able to reach the independent town of Creidor by nightfall had been overly optimistic. She had failed to take into account accidents such as losing a wagon wheel on the Sphinx’s cage and scrambling like mad to pacify an irate magical feline monster.
“Can’t believe none of us saw that hole,” a worker grumbled as he propped up the damaged cart.
“It might have been covered by dirt or something,” Reesh replied, looking over the busted wheel. Dora stood nearby, glowering at the contents of the cage.
“I’m just glad boss was able to keep the Sphinx from thrashing around,” the half-orc muttered. Reesh and the other caravan member nodded in agreement.
“Yeah, I thought we were going to die,” the lanky human noted as he began to reattach the mended wheel.
“If Rindel and Holt didn’t know the spell Calm I doubt he’d have much success, though,” Reesh continued. “I mean, I know he’s got impressive skills with whips, but that was just a stopgap.”
“You think I should learn that spell?” Dora asked, taking her eyes off the purring kitty-monster to look at the two workers. Both shrugged.
“Couldn’t hurt. You’re the Healer of the caravan. Only Rindel knows any healing magic, but yours is much better,” Reesh stated.
“Honestly, I’m envious of you. You’ve got a lot of talent with magic and healing. I can shoot sparks and maybe a Magic Arrow or two, but the more complicated stuff is beyond me.”
“Eh, give me a sword any day and I’ll take it over a wand,” the other crewman claimed. “Fancy chanting is distracting in real combat. I bet I could take on a mage no problem!”
“Is that so? Well then, next time we run into a spell caster you can challenge him to a duel,” Dora said drily. “And when you lose, I might forget how to do my ‘fancy chanting’ for you.”
Laughter and cheers for the half-orc came out from a few nearby men. The braggart slaver flushed but joined in after a moment.
“Hey Dora, you don’t need to hover over us, you know? We’re fine,” Reesh pointed out. “Why don’t you see if there’s anything else that needs emergency repairs.”
“Fine,” Dora said with a sigh, walking off. She shot the Sphinx one last glare, who ignored it in favor of a hunk of raw meat.
It was partly a desire to stretch her legs and ease the soreness that had settled in her lower body as well as to check for repairs that brought her wandering near the caged slaves. She contemplated passing out an extra serving of water due to the increased heat, but any further musings were cut off as the door on one of the covered wagons violently swung open, almost smacking Dora in the face.
“What the…?” she exclaimed, startled.
A filthy, bedraggled man leapt out of the cage, wild eyes darting around.
“What are you doing? Get back inside!” the half-orc demanded, trying to assert her cold, emotionless mask as she faced down the slave.
She reached out to grab his arm, but the escaped slave jerked away and slashed at her with something gripped tightly in his fist.
All Dora saw was a broken spur of pale white lash out at her before she winced, feeling blood gush out from her outstretched arm.
“Bastard!” she shouted, falling onto her rump in shock. The berserk slave dashed off, trying to make it to the edge of the camp and out into the Dreadlands.
He never made it, as a roar bellowed out from the side, and a dark green missile shot out from between some tents. Scarrot appeared, lashing out with his corded whip. It struck his back, and caused the man to stagger as a red line appeared on his weathered flesh. A second lash resulted in the whip wrapping around his throat, and the slave was jerked off his feet.
From behind the orc a human could be seen running towards Dora, worry in his eyes.
“Are you hurt?” Holt asked, running over to her. She shook her head at the question, even as he examined the cut on her arm.
“No, just startled,” Dora replied, wincing as he prodded the tear in the skin.
“Doesn’t look too deep. A bit of magic and a bandage and you’ll be right as rain,” Holt assured her. “What did he use?”
“A piece of bone, I think. I don’t know where he got it, but it had been sharpened somehow. He did something to his collar with it,” she revealed.
“Bastard scratched off a part of the runes etched into the collar,” Scarrot growled, dragging the wannabe escapee over to the group. A vicious scowl was slapped on his face, and he glared down at the mangy human who had tried to run. The slave in question was too busy trying to pry the coiled whip from off of his throat to pay attention.
“A mage, then?” Holt asked with a glare at the man.
“No, just an amateur. He knew enough about what to do, but that’s it. If he was a mage, then he’d have broken free much sooner,” Scarrot announced.
The orc’s eyes drifted over to Dora who was clutching her injured arm and his expression hardened imperceptibly.
“Gather the men, and tell them to position the other slaves so they can see the punishment.”
“At once, Scar,” Holt agreed, hurrying off to organize the event.
The orc stalked over to the opened cage and glared at the people inside who shrunk back in terror. His observation then drifted to the broken lock, and he snarled at its state.
“Immobilize,” Scarrot muttered, placing a hand on the side of the cage. A magical array sparked to life on the roof and floor of the cage, binding the remaining slaves with powerful magic. Any further escape was now impossible.
“Go get Reesh, tell him to repair the lock. The wheel takes secondary priority to keeping the merchandise locked away,” the orc growled at Dora, who stood quickly and nodded.
“Yes, boss.”
“And fix yourself up.”
“Yes, boss.”
He grunted in approval and dragged off the struggling escapee into the center of the camp.
Rindel popped up next to Dora, giving her a brief fright. When had he snuck up on her?
“Take this,” the gnome offered, passing over a small roll of bandages.
“Thanks,” Dora replied softly, quickly wrapping up her arm. She was hesitant to move away, as the caravan’s workers was already starting to gather.
A lot of the men had unpleasant looks on their faces as they stared at the struggling man ensnared by their leader’s whip.
“Listen up!” Scarrot roared, getting everyone’s attention. From nearby, the slaves pressed themselves up against the bars of their prison, coerced by their collars to obey the one who had enslaved them.
“This rat here tried to run away, and ended up hurting one of us.”
Angry muttering issued forth from the assembled folks, a few casting glances Dora’s way. Scarrot continued his speech, loosening the whip around the slave’s windpipe.
“Pero, lieutenant of the Dust Claw bandits! You were purchased as a crime slave instead of being sent to the gallows for your activities. You were given a chance at life, even if it was a brutal and demeaning one,” Scarrot continued.
The former bandit lashed out at the orc but his blow was deflected by the peg leg which immediately pinned the man down by the chest.
“Normally, I would just beat you to within an inch of your life and throw you back in the cage for later sale,” Scarrot said, leering down at the thug. “But you hurt one of my crew. And they are worth more than you ever will be.”
“Bastard…!”
“Magic Arrow!” Scarrot shouted, pointing at the bandit.
The slave’s chest erupted with blood and Pero coughed up red fluid before letting out a death rattle and slumping to the ground. The leader of the Yellowmoon Menagerie lifted his steaming peg leg away from the hole in the corpse’s body.
The spell had not come from the orc’s hands. Rather, it had burst from the carved ivory false limb. The runes along the side faded from the minor spell it had fired off.
Dora stared in awe at the full-blooded orc as he stomped away.
A secret weapon. No one would suspect that he’d have hidden a wand by turning it into a fake appendage. That was genius!
Plus, from the angle of the attack, only she and Rindel had seen where exactly the spell had come from. Everyone else that had observed the execution were in a position where they’d assume the spell had come from the finger he’d pointed at the slave.
Her excitement dwindled and a wave of nausea struck her as she caught sight of the corpse.
“Let’s go and find something to drink. Maybe some tea,” Rindel suggested, taking Dora by the arm and leading her away from the scene. “And we can look at the cut.”
Dora just nodded silently. The full extent of the last few minutes caught up to her and she wanted to cry and panic. But she couldn’t give in to her desires. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a familiar skinny man watching her.
“Ah, Reesh?”
“Yeah? What is it, Dora?” the handyman of the caravan asked, stepping forward.
“Could you check on the lock of the cage? Boss wanted it done,” Dora said, relaying the message. Reesh just stared at her before bursting into laughter.
Dora frowned, affronted and slightly insulted, but the lanky human waved his hands in front of him.
“S-sorry! I’m just glad to see you’re handling this well.” He smiled fondly at the half-orc maiden, ruffling her hair.
He quickly withdrew his hand to avoid having his finger bitten off, but his smile stayed firmly on his face.
“As you wish, milady, I shall fix the lock. Do have a peaceful day.” His impression of a snooty noble brought a smile to her lips.
“I shall,” Dora responded, altering her tone to match his own. They broke down into giggles while Rindel rolled his eyes from the sidelines.
Chapter 4: Settlement in the dust
“At last! Civilization!” Dora cheered, throwing her arms up in joy. Starspot snorted at her rider’s antics and shook her head, causing the half-orc to squeak and quickly grab the reins again.
After the delay from losing a wheel and later the failed escape attempt the caravan had spent the night some distance from the walls of their destination. Now, however, it was the morning, and their journey was almost over.
“If you can call Creidor ‘civilized,’ your standards must be very low, or you’re too kind for your own good,” Rindel said from beside her, riding along on a stocky pony. “Oh, wait, I forgot it was you, so it’s both.”
“Don’t be so rude,” Dora retorted, sticking her tongue out at gnome. “We’ve been out here away from any other people for three months now, and the other settlements this side of the Cracked Land just don’t match up with what Creidor offers.”
“Yes, because watered down ale, overpriced supplies, and grim, grimy men willing to kill and steal for their meals really add to the local flavor,” Rindel grumbled.
“This time, though, we’re a bit ahead of schedule, so that means I finally have a chance to visit Aldani Gorge and see it for myself!” Dora smiled, stars in her eyes.
“The World Scar is not that amazing,” Rindel cautioned.
“It’s the largest natural canyon in the world! Home to all kinds of amazing magical beasts and monsters! And it has all sorts of rare herbs and medicinal plants!” Dora said excitedly.
“Yeah, amazing creatures like basilisks, cockatrices, and other things that will petrify you,” Rindel warned. “One of its other nicknames is ‘the Stone Pit’ for a reason.”
Dora just waved her hand dismissively to the gnome’s valid concerns. “I know all that, but I have strong men eager to escort me, don’t I?”
“What, you mean Reesh?”
At Rindel’s teasing tone Dora looked over her shoulder at the aforementioned man. He was astride a mule, which seemed oddly fitting for the man who looked like he had been stretched out on a rack for a while.
When he spotted the half-orc watching him he gave what he no doubt thought was a saucy wink, but looked more like a seizure induced twitch.
Dora turned away, shivering slightly. Rindel just let out a laugh.
“Look lively, you lot! We’ll be approaching Creidor’s gates soon so look sharp and not like some slack jawed yokels!” Scarrot shouted, his booming voice carrying easily over the caravan.
Everyone immediately squared their shoulders and sat up straighter. The pride of the Yellowmoon Menagerie rested on their actions.
As the caravan drew closer, not only did the settlement become more defined but there were more travelers approaching, causing the road to become quickly crowded.
Outside of the few major settlements, there were very few other places to rest when traveling. As such, any merchants and travelers who braved the Dreadlands moved through vaguely defined but well-trod highways. For the Cracked Land, these paths took the form of massive ruts in the ground, simple grooves made by generations of boots, hooves, and wheels passing over.
Once a town came into view, travelers migrated almost by instinct towards these manmade roads. And for Creidor, the largest Freetown in the region and the only stop before one entered the Aldani Gorge, this impromptu highway was quite a bit larger.
Coming and going, the traffic was not unlike what might be seen in a city up north in Orria or Par-Orria. At least, according to the people from those places Dora had questioned.
As for the half-orc herself, she couldn’t keep a grin from snaking onto her face. Behind those walls was fresh food, fine quality goods, and most importantly, baths! Oh, how she longed to clean herself properly! The dust just got everywhere out in the Dreadlands!
Passersby began to notice the advancing Yellowmoon Menagerie, some of them standing aside once they spotted the caged sphinx and megalith snail, as well as the grim, unsmiling orc who led the procession.
Some people called out in greeting, and Dora politely waved back at familiar faces. It was a small world, and traders tended to run into one another sooner or later.
Finally, though, Creidor’s gates came into view.
The first thought one might have about the town would be ‘grey.’ The pale, ash-like dust that pervaded the Cracked Land coated the walls and roofs of Creidor, almost like a layer of paint it tended to stick so close.
The next thought would be ‘full.’ It was clear that whoever had first built the settlement a day’s ride from the Aldani Gorge had not expected it to play host to so many people. The stone walls were squat and only encompassed a few hundred square yards at best.
As such, two solutions to the population problem had been implemented. First was a shanty town built outside its walls composed of tents. Temporary visitors or poor merchants set up shop here, the quality of goods inferior to anything that could be found inside.
Secondly was the idea to build up. Houses were built atop each other, so they resembled towers connected by ladders and walkways. The buildings were so tall they completely surpassed the height of the wall, rendering the defenses partially moot.
The last thought anyone could have about Creidor, and the one currently running through Dora’s mind, would be ‘at last!’ It was an oasis in a desiccated land.
“Welcome back, Scar,” a grizzled guard at the gate said in greeting, nodding respectfully towards the large orc.
Scarrot returned the gesture while handing over a collection of paper sheets and iron plates, identification and business orders allowing them into the town and granting permission to set-up their wares.
“Everything is in order,” the guard announced, passing the items back. “Glad to see you around again.”
“Likewise,” Scarrot grunted. Holt bobbed his head in agreement.
“Before you go, Reed wants a word. He told us to let you know when you showed up again.”
The Menagerie’s leader blinked in surprise before frowning in thought.
“Hey, Rindel, who’s Reed?” Dora asked as the caravan trundled through the gates.
“The so-called ‘mayor’ of this lovely place,” Rindel explained.
“
How do you not know that by now? We’ve been here before,” Reesh commented, riding up beside the non-human pair.
“This will make the third time I’ve been to Creidor, Reesh. I can’t know everything about everyone!” Dora said with a roll of her eyes.
“But you should at least know who runs the joint! That’s common sense!”
“Enough bickering, you two!” Rindel snapped, shooting the youngsters a sharp look.
Cowed, the two clammed up.
“Listen carefully, Dora. ‘Blackjack’ Reed is a vicious businessman and the one who runs this town in every meaning of the word. If he doesn’t like you, good luck buying or selling anything while inside the walls,” Rindel warned. He looked around, worried for some reason, before continuing.
“He, Holt, and the boss are partners of sorts. Reed accepts commissions, usually for exotic and dangerous monsters or rare and illegal merchandise, and the Menagerie obtains the goods for him in exchange for a cut of the profit. He’s the man we’re delivering the sphinx to.”
“Alright. He’s the boss around here. Got it,” Dora said, nodding in understanding. “But what’s with his nickname?”
“Story is that when Reed was rising up the ranks in some organization or group or cult or something, someone tried to kill him in his sleep. But Reed woke up, stuffed some random junk into his pillow, and beat the assassin to death with it,” Reesh said, a chuckle of dark amusement escaping his lips.
“He’s harsh but fair. Stay out of his way, and you’ll be fine,” Rindel advised, finishing up the tale.
Dora nodded, a bit freaked out. “I can’t believe I’ve never heard of him before after all this time.”
“You’re young and naïve. Shed that attitude soon or people will take advantage of you,” Scarrot said, joining the trio and making it a quartet with his steed.
During their talk, the caravan had come to a halt, the wagons and men having skirted around the lee of the wall towards an open spot for large groups.