Bound by Truth

by Ian Rodgers

  Grumbling to herself Dora stormed into the barracks, startling Reesh who had been patrolling the corridors near the entrance.

  “Geez, who died?” the handyman exclaimed as he saw the scowl staining the half-orc’s face.

  “There was an accident at the dig site,” Dora replied shortly. Reesh winced, regretting his blithe comment.

  “Well, these things happen. What can you do, though?” the tallest member of the caravan said with a shrug.

  “I healed the injured. That’s what I did,” Dora responded. A look of horror slowly slid over his expression.

  “You-you healed them? Slaves and all?”

  “Yeah. Why? What’s with that look?” the half-orc demanded, folding her arms in annoyance at Reesh’s look.

  Without saying a word he grabbed her arm and dragged the Healer into the mess hall of the barracks, which when not used for eating doubled as the caravan’s recreation room.

  People looked up in surprise and concern. For a moment they relaxed when they saw who it was that had barged in, but then their worries came back upon seeing Reesh’s expression.

  “What’s going on?” Scarrot demanded, stomping forward to confront the duo.

  “Dora here went and healed some slaves who’d gotten hurt in an accident,” Reesh said, shaking the young woman slightly.

  A few expressions of horror to mirror Reesh’s own popped up through the room and Scarrot narrowed his eyes.

  “I don’t understand what the big deal is!” Dora shouted, jerking her arm out of the thin human’s grasp. “So I healed some people, who cares?”

  “The slaves would,” Scarrot said. “As would their masters. Damn it all, this is going to ignite the city again.”

  “Explain to me what is going on,” Dora pleaded as she started to notice the worry around the mess hall.

  “Annod Bol is a pile of dry tinder,” Scarrot began to explain, pacing the floor. “So many beaten and broken slaves lorded over by cruel masters in such a small space would naturally cause tensions. Oh sure, there are a few good, kind, and decent slave traders and owners, but in the end, most of us in the trade could care less if the merchandise is happy or comfortable.”

  “And that means anger. That means hate and resentment. Even with the slave-binding collars on their necks they can still break loose and riot if given a chance. And Annod Bol has had plenty of those. They’re almost a common occurrence.”

  “The last time a riot broke out, it was because one of the slaves was a Healer, and began to heal her fellow captives,” Reesh said as he picked up the thread of conversation.

  “Her kindness touched the hearts of the slaves in the city. But she was also beautiful, and attracted a lot of ‘attention’ from one of the Lords. She was chosen to become a sacrifice in a demonic ritual. She resisted, naturally, and in the confrontation, she was struck and killed by accident. The slaves went mad.”

  Reesh grimaced as he thought back to those days. “I was there, you know? I was supposed to be sacrificed alongside the Healer. I saw her die. I saw the enslaved people of the city rise up in fury and try to put the city to the torch. Amidst the confusion I broke free of my shackles and fled with hundreds of other slaves. Most were captured. I was lucky enough to be found and taken in by Scarrot.”

  The repairman rubbed his stomach, feeling old wounds tingling across his body at the memories.

  “That was, oh, twenty or so years ago? By now rumors will be circulating through the city about a young Healer selflessly helping injured slaves. And some will be claiming you are the deceased Healer reborn, here to free them all from their chains. If there isn’t a riot of some sort in the next few days, I’ll eat a hat.”

  “And the Tower Lords won’t stand by idly, either,” Scarrot hissed, glaring at Dora. “They might arrest you. They might publicly punish you. They might just kill you and be done with it. But you’ve definitely caused a stir in this city of vice and evil. Prepare yourself for the consequences.”

  “So, I should have just sat back and let this happen? Let people suffer?” Dora demanded.

  “They’re slaves, Ildora. Not people. Not anymore. You can’t save them.”

  The Healer huffed at the orc’s words.

  “You really are just like Kari. I didn’t want to believe it, but you’re both just cowards. Despicable.” Dora glared at the taller green skinned person in front of her.

  “You probably became a slaver because it was the only way you could ever feel good about yourself, huh? Parading your power and freedom in front of others, and enslaving them in turn. Hells, maybe you’re so bitter because you know no one will ever love you because of all that you’ve done, so you take it out on others in this fashion.”

  She didn’t have time to dodge, let alone blink. Faster than she had thought possible Scarrot rushed at her, slamming the half-orc into a wall with a hand fastened around her throat.

  Cries of shock burst through the room, and out of the corner of her eye Dora saw Reesh staring in a mixture of shock and fear at what was happening as if he couldn’t believe what was going on.

  “You think you know me?” Scarrot hissed, ignoring the nails that clawed at his arm as Dora tried to break free from his hold. “You think you know my pains? My life?”

  The orc stamped the ground with his ivory peg leg, staring into Dora’s eyes.

  “I have suffered in ways you can never comprehend. Done things in order to survive that would make even monsters balk. And here I stand, free and alive. I have won where others lost.”

  As Dora’s began to go cross-eyed from a lack of oxygen he leaned in close, hot breath brushing her bangs out of the way.

  “Which side of the bars do you want to be on? In my life, I’ve been on both, and let me tell you, I prefer being outside of the cage, and I will do anything to keep it that way. Even doing to others what was done to me.”

  He stared down at Dora for a few more seconds before releasing her with a contemptuous snort, and let her slide to the floor, gasping for air. Tears were dripping down her face as she in turn stared up at the tall orc in absolute terror.

  “I will admit, though, there was one point you were right about. I lost all my rights at loving others and being loved because of this life I live. So, congratulations! Welcome to the club.”

  His rant finished, Scarrot stormed out of the mess hall, more than likely retreating to his room.

  Dora was barely aware of anything that happened afterwards. Mind awhirl she vaguely recalled someone tiny calling to her, and someone with a goatee shouting angrily with someone thin and lanky.

  The last thing the young Healer could remember was a pair of strong, tanned arms picking her up and carrying her gently to her quarters and tucking her into her bed.

  With a whimper she reached out and grabbed the arm of the figure who had returned her to her room.

  “Don’t leave me, mama,” Dora mumbled.

  A voice that sounded far too deep and masculine to be her mother’s boomed out. “I won’t. I promise.”

  Dora’s eyes fluttered and closed, a thin smile of contentment on her lips as someone gently stroked her hair.

  Chapter 11: Only dreams

  “Happy birthday, Dora!”

  A beaming Irene appeared from the kitchen, carrying a platter with ten delicious honey glazed jam buns. She placed them on the kitchen table in front of her young daughter who smiled widely with unrestrained joy.

  As was tradition for birthdays, Dora was dressed in her finest clothes while wearing a corsage made of multiple white lilies pinned over her heart in order to honor Nia, goddess of love and protector of children.

  The ten flowers bound in white ribbon represented the number of years she had lived. Most people only really celebrated three major birthdays; five, ten, and fifteen. Five was a sacred number, after all, as were all its multiples. After that, they were an adult, and most only observed birthdays in passing.

  “Oh, look at you, all dressed up! You look beautiful, my little min
t leaf.”

  The young half-orc girl fidgeted slightly at the praise.

  “Thank you, mama. But I wish I was as pretty as you.”

  Irene reached out to tousle her daughter’s hair but paused. Dora rolled her eyes.

  “Fine, just this once. But then no more! I’m a big girl now. I’m ten, almost an adult!”

  “Yes, yes, my darling. But the keyword there is ‘almost.’ Besides, you should enjoy your childhood while you can.”

  Dora huffed but couldn’t keep a smile from creeping over her face as her mother played with her hair like she’d done when she was younger.

  “Here you go, Dora, my present to you,” Irene said after she withdrew her hand. The ordained Healer then passed her a book. The cover was plain, with only a single yellow dove stamped upon it. But as Dora flipped through the pages her smile only grew wider.

  “This is awesome, mama! Look at all these spells!”

  “That book is a primer tome for aspiring Healers. It contains the fifteen spells all Healers must know, as well as some extra tips and tricks on tending to various ailments like poison or disease. With it, I have no doubt you will become a great Healer.”

  Dora grinned up at her mother before something else crossed her mind and she gasped.

  “Mama! I almost forgot!” She rushed out of the dining room, heading towards her bedroom.

  After a few seconds of her mother staring after her in confusion Dora dashed back, an envelope clutched in her hands. It was thick and brownish with a pale yellow blob of wax sealing it shut.

  “I found this outside my window when I woke up this morning! I kind of forgot about it when I was getting ready for the day but I remembered it thanks to your gift!”

  She passed it over to her mother who took the letter with a strange expression in her eyes. Dora wasn’t sure what it meant, but continued to beam happily all the same.

  “It’s addressed to me, see? ‘To Dora!’ The handwriting looks kinda sloppy, but I think it’s from daddy!”

  Irene continued to stare at the letter, her eyes latched firmly onto the handwriting in question. A look of recognition passed over her face, confirming Dora’s guess and causing the girl to become even giddier.

  Her joy was shattered instantly as her mother gripped the letter tightly and tore it in half, before gathering magic to her hands and igniting the pieces of cheap parchment.

  The wax seal melted and dripped onto the table, mirroring the tears that suddenly burst from Dora.

  “Mama? Wh-why, mama?”

  “Because he’s no father of yours, Dora,” Irene spat, throwing the ash onto the floor. “He doesn’t deserve that title anymore.”

  “Bu-but that was my letter! H-he wrote to me for the first time…!” Dora trailed off when guilt flashed over the blonde Healer’s expression.

  “That wasn’t his first, letter, was it?! How many others were there?! How many did you destroy?!”

  “The man I fell in love with is dead, Dora,” Irene said coldly. “He died, and the ‘thing’ that still shambles around in his shape is not worthy of being known as such. Forget him.”

  “No! He’s my daddy! I-I deserve to know about him!’ Dora shouted. When her mother turned her head away she trembled in rage, clenching her fists.

  “If you hated him so much, then you must also hate me too!”

  Irene snapped her head back around at that. “What? No, Dora! That’s impossible! I love you more than anything! You’re my precious little mint leaf!”

  “That’s a lie! Y-you hate daddy, and everyone in town hates me because I’m a h-half-orc. Th-that’s fine, I’ll leave you alone since you don’t want me anymore! You shouldn’t have had me! I wish I’d never been born!”

  “Dora!” the young mother cried out, but her daughter ignored her, barreling out the door and into the town beyond, blinded by tears.

  Eyes blurred, Dora wandered around the edge of Far Reach kicking at tufts of dry prairie grass. The breeze ruffled the stiff stalks, causing a scratchy sound to reverberate across the endless fields.

  Fury boiled in her veins and the girl was not paying attention to her surroundings. That proved to be her undoing as an errant rock tripped her up, sending her to the ground in a heap.

  The sudden shock of pain and finding herself on the ground was the last straw, and Dora broke down, tears pouring from her eyes as curled up in ball.

  Dirt smeared against her white dress but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She simply lay there letting out her pain and grief.

  “I thought I heard a dying animal! And what do you know, we found a dirty monster instead.”

  Dora stiffened in fear at the voice, tears temporarily put on hold. She looked up from her spot to see a trio of children sneering over at her. Two boys and a girl from the town. A group of bullies who constantly harassed her.

  “Go away,” Dora muttered, glancing away from them. A prayer that they would just leave her alone for once passed her lips, but it was half-hearted at best.

  “Why in the Hells is something filthy like you wearing a nice dress?” the female of the team demanded, glaring with envy at the dress, though it was now stained and messy.

  “She’s wearing a birthday corsage,” one of the two boys, the largest of the pair, pointed out. He reached down and tore the flowers from her chest causing Dora to flinch.

  “Monsters aren’t born, so they don’t have birthdays,” the smaller of the two boys declared arrogantly. Tall Boy snorted in agreement and dropped the bundle of lilies onto the ground, grinding them beneath his feet.

  “And monsters don’t deserve to wear pretty clothes, either,” Girl smirked, and reached down to tear at the lace on the edge of her collar. The two boys gave a cruel smile and joined in, grabbing at her clothes, hair, and body.

  “Stop it!” Dora cried, pawing at the hands that were now ripping at her. Her strength was all gone though, drained by her sorrow. In seconds she was almost stripped, her clothes now rags on the dirt.

  Terror shot through her when she was almost completely left bare, and the eyes of the boys turned darker as they stared at the flesh she was now forced to show to the whole world.

  “What in the Hells is going on?!” A roar blasted through the field, and the Small Boy barely had time to blink before a heavy boot slammed into the side of his head.

  “Fucking little brats!” The blacksmith stomped over, face red and looking like steam was about to come pouring from his ears.

  “You hit me!” Small Boy cried, holding a hand against his forehead. He drew it back and stared in shock at the blood that now coated his palm. The hobnails on the bottom of the boot had torn into the flesh of his head.

  “And I’ll do worse to you if you don’t run off like the little shits you are!” He hollered back. The trio of bullies scattered, running off, no doubt to blubber to their parents.

  With a snort of disgust the blacksmith approached the young half-orc girl on the ground, expression softening as he saw her distress.

  “Wretched little bastards,” he muttered when he saw her state of disarray. He immediately took off his shirt and passed it to Dora, turning away and picking up the boot he had thrown and slipping it back on while she got dressed.

  “Why…?”

  “I was bringing a gift over to your house when I ran into your mother. Almost literally. She was bawling her eyes out and I managed to make out that you’d run off for some reason.” He turned back to Dora, smiling now that she had a shirt on to cover her modesty. Though since he was so much bigger than her, his clothes draped over her like a tent. Still, it was fine for now.

  “She asked me to find you and I agreed. And then I did, and I’m glad I found you when I did. I saw that look in those boys’ eyes. Gonna have a talk with their parents later…” the blacksmith trailed off into angry grumbles about ‘kids these days’ as he led Dora back to Far Reach.

  During the walk, the young half-orc unconsciously reached out and grabbed his hand, clinging to it desper
ately. Her action brought the older man up short, but he smiled warmly at her and continued to lead her back home.

  “I don’t want to go home right now,” Dora said as they approached the settlement. She looked up at the larger gentleman. “Can I stay at your place?”

  “Eh, why not,” the blacksmith agreed. He could see the worry in her eyes as she glanced over in the direction of her house and smiled reassuringly at her. “Besides, I still need to give you your birthday gift.”

  The local smithy was a typical building for that region: wide and squat, made almost entirely of brick and stone to prevent fires, with a large, partially enclosed forge attached to the side the only extra addition. Despite its appearance it produced some of the finest quality metalwork in the region.

  And that was all thanks to the blacksmith’s talents. Dora wasn’t sure why he wasn’t in a city or larger town plying his trade, but she’d heard whispers among the adults and patients that he’d made someone in the government mad at him so he was posted out here.

  Well, their loss, Far Reach’s gain.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up a bit before your mother comes looking,” the blacksmith said kindly, taking Dora out of her musings. He brought her over to a large wooden barrel full of water normally used for quenching the metals, and dabbed a wet strip of cloth over her face, arms, and legs, wiping off dirt and tears with ease.

  “Why are you so nice to me?” Dora asked after a while, letting the stoked coals heat and dry her. “Almost everyone else in town hates me, but not you.”

  “Because I too know what it means to be sidelined and ostracized,” he claimed, shifting objects around on a workbench as he looked for something. “And no, that doesn’t mean it has anything to do with ostriches. It means I’m somewhat of an outcast like yourself.”

  “I know what ‘ostracized’ means,” Dora said with a pout.

  “Ah, sorry, sorry! Keep forgetting you’re smarter and better read than most of your peers,” the blacksmith apologized with a smile and a laugh.