Bound by Lies Read online

  The Chained Maiden:

  Bound by Lies

  Ian Rodgers

  Copyright ©2018 Ian Rodgers

  All Rights Reserved

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1: The beginning of an end

  Chapter 2: Allies amidst ruin

  Chapter 3: Dust Town

  Chapter 4: Darkening trials and trails

  Chapter 5: Parting is a bitter-sweet sorrow

  Chapter 6: Through dust and sand

  Chapter 7: What lies in the past

  Chapter 8: Quarantine zone

  Chapter 9: Over the wall

  Chapter 10: Healing and hating

  Chapter 11: Fake court, failed emotions

  Chapter 12: Battle lines drawn in the sand

  Chapter 13: Light and Dark collide

  Chapter 14: All things end

  Chapter 15: The gates open

  Chapter 1: The beginning of an end

  The sun screamed down upon the hard earth. The pale grey landscape baked under the fiery heat and light. It was just another day in the Dreadlands. And toiling away beneath the burning sky a caravan was moving along a winding trail between tall, rocky hills.

  Horses plodded along, transporting large covered wagons and portable steel cages. Most of them were empty, but a few contained various majestic and deadly animals. However, the sun was too much for them, and most of the magical beasts lay slumped in their containers, lethargic and dazed.

  The workers within the caravan looked no better than their merchandise, drooping under the sun as it beat down on them. they rode along on horses as well, but it was a slow, plodding march all the same. Nothing fared well under the heat of the hottest day of the year.

  “Argh, it’s too hot out here!” A young woman with mint green skin wiped a hand across her forehead as perspiration dripped down her face. Her steed, a chestnut mare with a star shaped white splotch on her forehead, whinnied in agreement.

  She glared up at the sun before quickly averting her gaze as the rays seared her eyeballs.

  Riding next to her atop a drab draft horse a lanky, almost gangly, young man laughed.

  “Trying to win a staring contest with the sun, are you, Dora?”

  “Well, I can tell you just lost a staring contest with the Cockatrice, Reesh. I mean, look how ugly and deformed your face is! Oh, wait, that’s just how it normally is,” the young green-skinned woman shot back.

  The tall and thin man laughed, his toolbelt jangling at the motion. “Ooh, scathing!”

  “If you have the energy to laugh, you have the energy to ride ahead and scout out the area,” a human with black hair and a goatee called out to the caravan’s handyman, pulling his own steed close enough to cut into their conversation.

  Reesh rolled his eyes but nodded, and, heeding the order of the Menagerie’s second-in-command, spurred his horse onwards to the front of the caravan to check on the terrain ahead of them.

  “You too, Dora! Keep Reesh out of trouble, will you?”

  “Sure thing, Holt!” Dora said, and the half-orc patted her mare’s neck. “Let’s go, Starspot! Let’s make sure nothing tries to ambush or eat Reesh.”

  With an eager neigh the chestnut horse took off, and Dora sighed in joy at the wind that whipped past her.

  “Good girl!” Dora cheered. She spared a glance behind her at the rest of the caravan that sweltered under the sun.

  The Yellowmoon Menagerie. A famous, or depending on your opinion of slavery, infamous, caravan that trawled the blasted grey wastes of the Cracked Land, one of the three inhospitable regions of the Dreadlands.

  It peddled slaves, but only those enslaved due to crime or debt. But what the Menagerie was truly renowned for was as a group that hunted and captured rare and dangerous monsters. From the man-faced, bat-winged, scorpion tailed Manticores, to the lizard-chicken, petrifying Cockatrice, the magical beasts of the Dreadlands were no match for the Yellowmoon, or its leader.

  Against her better judgement, Dora sought out a person she knew to be at the front of the caravan. Her eyes quickly found him without difficulty. After all, how hard was it to spot a dark green-skinned brute nearly seven-foot tall, bulging with muscles, and missing his left leg?

  Scarrot Yellowmoon narrowed his eyes, returning Dora’s stare with one of his own. The young blonde-haired Healer quickly turned aside from the full-blooded orc’s gaze and hastened over towards Reesh, who was holding his right hand up to his brow in a futile attempt to shield his eyes from the sun as he looked over the landscape.

  “Anything odd or unusual?” Dora inquired as she rode up to him. Ahead, the hills scattered and flattened, becoming more akin to a prairie of ashen grey dust.

  “Maybe. I think I’ve got two humanoid blobs on horses up ahead coming our way. No real dust trail following them, so they’re either not moving fast, or they’re on foot.

  Dora snorted in disbelief. “As if anyone would be foolish enough to wander out here on foot! They’d be dead before the week was out!”

  “True. They could be monsters,” Reesh warned, left hand reaching instinctively towards a throwing knife secured to his waist. The Healer patted him on the shoulder, stopping him.

  “We’ll get closer to ascertain their identities. Don’t go jumping the sword, now.”

  Reesh snorted but complied, and urged his steed on towards the two specks in the distance, with Dora following close by.

  “So, I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been unusually attentive to the boss recently. Anything I should know about?” the caravan’s repair guy asked.

  She shook her head. “No, nothing.”

  “You sure? ‘Cause I’m certain everyone in the caravan has noticed how you keep staring at him. Uldo and Rindel are considering starting a betting pool on why that is. Personally, I’ve got eight silver riding on your little inquisitive glances being an orcish attempt to challenge him for dominance of the caravan!”

  “What?” Dora gasped, befuddled. “I don’t, what even, huh?”

  Reesh nodded, patently ignoring the sputtering Healer riding next to him. “Yup. So, if you wouldn’t mind helping me win the pot, could you perhaps confront him about taking over sometime?”

  “You want me to help you cheat with a bet involving me!?” Dora demanded, giving the thin slaver next to her an incredulous look.

  “If you would. But if you don’t could you at least not confess your undying love to the boss? I don’t want Uldo to win the pot.”

  “He bet on me for WHAT?!” Dora shouted, and a few sparks of silver and green fizzled and popped around her, her mana agitated by her sudden swing in emotions.

  “Well, if you’re not staring at Scarrot for reasons of being enamored or confrontational, why are you giving him such intense looks all the time?” Reesh asked.

  “It’s because, urg, well,” Dora faltered. She looked at Reesh and saw the man who’d been like an older brother to her since she’d joined the Menagerie.

  Not only that, but she still recalled how much he’d helped her and Kari back in Annod Bol. Even if said help involved wearing outfits even streetwalkers would find risqué. And trying to avoid wondering why the repairman even had those.

  Pushing thoughts about the ordeal she’d gone through in the City of Slaves from her mind, she looked Reesh square in the face, determination to avoid the question set in her eyes.

  “My reasons for staring at him so often are my own. So please, don’t ask anymore.”

  Seeing the hardness in her features, Reesh sighed, but nodded all the same. He then turned his attention back to the approaching figures.

  Up ahead, the two dots that vaguely resembled people had drawn closer, and now formed into two men in traveling cloaks riding atop a pair of black horses.

  On
e of the men was thin and willowy, not unlike Reesh, though under his dust stained hood a pair of sharp, knife-like ears could be seen poking out from dirty blond hair. At his waist an elfish saber was sheathed.

  Next to the elf, the other man had unusual features. His skin was darker, but not as dark as Uldo’s, who was part Amazonian. Rather, it had a tanned quality to it. His eyes were slanted, and black fuzz rested atop the man’s head. He chose not to wear the hood, showing off a series of tattoos that crawled up his neck and onto the back of his head. Unlike the elf, he had no obvious means of defense. Dora wondered if he was one of those bare-handed ‘martial artists’ Distant Qwan boasted of.

  The pair of travelers halted as the two caravaneers hailed them.

  “Greetings, travelers! I’m surprised to see two people wandering out here,” Reesh called out.

  “You know, you’re not the first group to call us out. Is it truly so rare to see only a duo traveling the Cracked Lands?” the elf inquired.

  “You must be new here if you’re asking that question,” Dora said with a roll of her eyes. “Safety in numbers is one of the first lessons people learn here.”

  “Well, I’m glad that a beauty such as yourself is so kind as to give us fair warning,” the man with the partially shaved head said. He gave her a bow, which brought a flustered huff to her lips. The elf gave his partner a smack upside the head.

  “No flirting, Enrai!”

  “Ow! No need to hit that hard, Ain,” the man complained. He was definitely a resident of Distant Qwan with that name.

  “Oh shush, a blow like that couldn’t even make you flinch,” the elf said before turning back to Dora and giving her an apologetic bow.

  “Sorry for my friend’s antics.”

  “No worries,” Dora said, waving off the apology while wiping the blush from her face. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Reesh give the Qwanese man an annoyed look.

  “Which caravan are you from?” Ain, the elf, inquired once he had made up for his companion’s flirting.

  “The Yellowmoon Menagerie,” Reesh said shortly.

  “Truly? Then, that is them in the distance?” Ain asked as his face lit up.

  Dora and Reesh shared a concerned, and confused, look with each other. Most people were not that eager to run into them, unless they were looking to buy something or someone. But neither of these men looked the type to purchase slaves. Or have the means to care for them out in the grey wastelands.

  “Yes,” Dora said slowly.

  “Would you mind terribly if we followed you? We have some questions we want to ask your boss.”

  “Fine. Just don’t fool around, we’re transporting a jumpy Rock Troll right now, and the last thing we need is an idiot or two to make it go on a rampage because it’s been provoked,” Reesh warned before turning his horse around.

  Ain frowned at the tone the handyman took, while the human who went by Enrai was content to try and chat up Dora.

  “So, what’s a lovely flower like yourself doing out in the Cracked Land?” he asked, sidling up to Dora.

  She gave him a deadpan look. “I work as a Healer with the Menagerie. That’s all.”

  “Oh my! Such a lovely purpose! I never thought to see a disciple of the Moon Goddess out here of all places! Ah, this must be destiny!”

  Dora rolled her eyes, however she clamped down hard on her expression, tooling it to be as neutral as possible. Unused to praise or such forwardness from a member of the opposite gender, the man’s praise made her stomach do flips, and her face wanted to erupt in redness.

  Not to mention the way he spoke the Common Tongue with an accent, which added an intriguing aspect of exoticness to him.

  It wasn’t easy for her to endure the near constant flirting, and when Dora returned to the caravan she quickly took her leave.

  “Such a shame to see you go! I will remember this meeting forever, my lovely flower!” Enrai called out to her as she left.

  A dark scowl split Scarrot’s features as he overheard that, while a few of the other men in the caravan shot the Qwanese traveler bemused expressions.

  “Laying it on a little thick, isn’t he?” a voice scoffed as Dora fled to the middle of the caravan. She let her breath out.

  “Definitely. Is that really how men try to attract a woman’s attention, or is it a Qwanese thing?” she asked, giving Enrai a questioning look.

  Atop a stocky pony a gnome with spiky blue hair looked back up at Dora.

  “I think that’s just him. He seems like an odd duck,” the caravan’s quartermaster and cook commented.

  “What do you think he and his friend want?” she asked, discreetly peeking over her shoulder towards the pair as they spoke with Scarrot.

  “Dunno. Directions, perhaps?”

  “They seemed oddly eager to speak with him though. And who in the Hells only travels through this place as a pair?” the blonde half-orc griped. Rindel scratched at the mess of scar tissue where his nose used to be.

  “I don’t think they’re looking to buy. They feel like men on a mission,” the gnome said slowly, peering at the duo of dust stained travelers with an appraising eye. “They’re not ordinary men. They carry themselves with none of the swagger a slaver out here would, nor do they have a stick up their ass like a noble or self-important buyer.”

  “So, adventurers?”

  Rindel gave Dora a pitying shake of the head. “Knights, more likely. Probably looking for a runaway to bring to justice. Though what sort of criminal would get on the bad sides of both the Second Elfish Domain and the Celestial Empire of Qwan?”

  “A dumb one,” the Healer commented, watching as Ain shook hands with Scarrot after a brief but intense discussion. The elf wore a frown as he led Enrai off. They apparently hadn’t found what they’d been looking for.

  Rindel hummed in agreement with the half-orc’s assessment before going back to his duties of watching over the food wagon.

  Dora, on the other hand, continued to watch the two travelers as they left. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt drawn to them. Not because of Enrai’s pick-up attempts. Gods no! But something about them seemed as if they held power. And that power was calling out to her.

  She shook her head and guided Starspot back to the head of the caravan to finish her scouting duties. The last thing she needed was the caravan thinking she’d fallen for a smooth-talking stranger!

  .

  “We’ll make camp here!” Scarrot bellowed, calling a halt for the day’s march in a spot halfway between the open plains and the more sparsely hilly region they’d left behind them. The sun was barely starting to dip, and a quick Timekeeper cantrip revealed it was late afternoon.

  “Boss, why are we stopping? We could get in another few miles before dusk,” Dora questioned. She wasn’t complaining, she was dog tired after riding through blistering heat. She was curious though as the scarred orc rarely gave breaks.

  “Because the animals are exhausted and heat stricken, Ildora,” Scarrot said. “Just because your horse is of finer stock and can go longer doesn’t mean the rest of them can.”

  “Understood,” Dora said, grimacing at the named he had used and turning away.

  ‘Ildora.’ Ever since she had joined the caravan Scarrot had refused to call her anything else. For two years she had been convinced it had been a form of mockery of some kind. A way for the orc to show distain or superiority over her half-blooded status.

  Until last year when she had learned the true meaning behind the name.

  The way she obtained that knowledge was thanks to a young woman she had helped escape from slavery. The Menagerie had been hired to transport Kari, a woman who possessed two rare Bloodline Traits, to the dreaded city of Annod Bol.

  Forced by the now deceased Tower Lord Dominick Krave to use her powers to revive an ancient Titan artifact for his mad schemes of world domination, Kari had enlisted Dora to stop him, and managed to escape. Kari then killed Krave by shoving raw magic into his body. Of course, that ne
arly resulted in Dora being framed for Krave’s murder and executed.

  Dora frowned as she remembered that. It had been a political ploy to keep the city and its slaves in line, but thanks to the help of the Chained God, Naliot, she managed to escape prison and, with the help of Kari, chased down a demonic cult to shift blame onto them for Krave’s murder.

  Only to discover that the cult was trying to summon the Queen Swathed in Vermillion, demonic mistress of Lust and Hedonistic Pleasures from the Abyss into the mortal plane, and consign Annod Bol to an even worse fate than slavery!

  A shiver crawled down the Healer’s spine at the thought. She wasn’t sure how exactly she and Kari had escaped. When the Queen’s avatar had touched Dora’s body, silver light and flowers burst from her, and drove the demonic entity back into the dark realm she’d came from.

  And then, to finish the adventure, Kari, with Dora’s help, stole the Aegis Sphere, a Titan artifact capable of traversing dimensions. But right before the woman whom Dora had come to consider a friend left the Dreadlands, the raven-haired imparted the truth of the name ‘ildora’ to the half-orc.

  There was a sudden stray gust of wind, and the tent collapsed in a flump. Dora’s eye twitched. As she resigned herself to trying to set up her tent, her eyes kept flickering over the pale green skin on her hands. A light green that was the color of mint. Mint. Or, in the orcish tongue, ‘ildora.’

  Did the other members of the caravan’s crew know what it meant? Rindel perhaps knew, as he had been a scholar before becoming joining the Menagerie. Holt too likely knew as he’d been with Scarrot since the very beginning, and the two were as close as brothers.

  Why did the battered, bitter, peg-legged orc call her that? Was it really an insult? Or was it, as a part of her mind traitorously tried to convince her of, a term of endearment?

  Dora growled a little to herself. Partly because she was annoyed by the mystery, but mostly due to the fact that her tent refused to stay up.

  “Need help, there?” Reesh asked, sauntering over to her from his properly set-up tent.

  She glared at him, but eventually acquiesced. “I think the ground is a bit too hard. The stakes won’t go in properly.”