The Chained Maiden: Bound by Hope Page 16
“How does a girl who signed on with a circus end up in the Dreadlands?” the Healer asked in disbelief as she checked over her patient, making sure she hadn’t missed anything. And trying desperately not to picture the old lady in front of her with a beard of any kind.
“We were heading down to Saluda from the Crawling Coast when it happened. The ringmaster was a cheapskate and decided to purchase passage on the cheapest ship he could find without actually looking into it,” the aged woman said with a snort. “As such, he had no idea the ship and crew he’d hired also moonlighted as pirates when the pickings were slim. As such, we all ended up captured. We made it to Saluda, but as slaves instead of performers.”
“Well, at least you finally found your freedom,” Dora said, patting her hand comfortingly.
“Thanks to my son. He was always a strong and smart lad, and worked hard, before catching the eye of his master. He worked and worked and won his freedom. Then, he worked some more and bought my freedom next. Not my ex-husband’s, though,” the aged woman said with a cackle.
“Well, I hope my check-up helps you feel better for now,” Dora said, standing up and stretching lightly. “And many thanks for all the helpful information on the Sprawling Jungle.”
“Not a problem! It’s nice to have someone listen to an old bat’s rambling!” the old woman said with an appreciative smile.
Dora shared a few more pleasantries before leaving the helpful elderly stall vendor behind. She had a few more hours before Enrai and Ain were due to return, and she wanted to visit a few more spots and trawl for information.
‘And then afterwards, maybe a bit of shopping while I’m at it,’ Dora thought. She didn’t need to purchase any supplies at the moment, and Weeping Outpost didn’t have much variety of anything besides seafood and salt but looking at nice things helped her unwind. And, if she was honest, it always helped her find out more about people and places when she had examples of their leisure and luxury goods to examine. Not that she’d had much opportunity to do this sort of window browsing before, but the few times she’d been in new places had piqued her curiosity.
Browsing the ware of Rahmal’Alram in Saluda had been especially fun. Despite the threat of the Creeping Rot, there had still been plenty of stores that sold fine goods to the indolent nobles who’d holed up in their mansions. She’d seen gilded toys, mirrors made of silver, and artifacts of magic that were useless for anything more than frivolous display. And it had shown her that there was so much more beyond the small pieces of the world she’d lived in her whole life.
She hid a pained sigh at that thought. Dora, for all her travels, had never seen much of the world. Fifteen years growing up in rural Far Reach had not let her experience life. And the past three years of living in the Cracked Land as a slaver had shown her the ugliness of the world.
But she wanted to see more. Experience more! Live more! And despite Dora telling herself she wanted nothing more than to have things go back to the way they were, she knew deep down that was no longer possible. Something had changed within her. Or, perhaps more accurately, something was trying to change her.
The dreams were growing stronger, and more vivid. Last night hadn’t been the first time she’d experienced odd, otherworldly places in her sleep, but it had been the longest time spent in another realm, and the Healer could feel her soul shifting because of these nightly detachments.
She looked down at her fingers and watched as silver sparks danced alongside emerald ones. Once, her mana had been green. Now, though, it was becoming interspersed with shades of silver. Who was she, anymore? The Dora of the past wasn’t the Dora standing in the dusty streets of a Cracked Land Outpost. And the change concerned her. Where would it end? And who would she be when it was finished with her?
Dora shook her head, banishing the morbid thoughts. It was pointless to dwell on this matter now. She still had people to rescue, and sights to see.
Idly, she rubbed the silver bangle dedicated to Nia, youngest of the Divine Family and goddess of love. A soothing sensation filled her soul. The half-orc looked down at the piece of jewelry, confused, before narrowing her eyes at it.
“Hmm. So, you’re the one…” she muttered to herself. She looked away from the silver wristband and continued her walking tour of the Weeping Outpost. There would be time later to investigate this new discovery.
∞.∞.∞
Dora glanced out the window of her room at the sky, noting the time based on the angle of the sun.
“Soon,” she murmured. “They’ll be crawling on their knees to me soon.”
Dusk was upon the town, and long shadows were cast across the land. Enrai and Ain had promised to be back around this time, if they didn’t run into any complications.
A quiet growl rumbled out of her stomach, and she winced, looking down at the protesting organ as it demanded food.
“Come on, don’t do this to me now, stomach,” Dora grumbled. Her belly’s response was another loud gurgle of hunger.
“Fine, you win,” the Healer uttered with a sigh of defeat. “There has to be a food stall close by to the inn I can visit. Let’s get you filled.”
She got off the bed and managed to get to the door when she sensed a pair of familiar presences on the other side. So, with a carefully schooled blank expression, she opened the door and caught a face full of knuckles.
“Argh! Dab it, right in da nose!” Dora shouted, grabbing her face, word distorted from pain.
“Oh gods, I’m sorry, Dora!” She heard Enrai’s voice call out in shock.
“You know, I shouldn’t find this as hilarious as I do, but after the day I’ve had, this is much needed humor,” Ain’s dry voice stated.
With a few choice curse words muttered under her breath, Dora blinked her eyes clear of pain-based tears and tenderly poked her nose. It wasn’t broken, just bruised. Enrai hadn’t been trying to punch her, just going for a round of knocking on the door.
“Have a fun trip?” she asked with bitter sarcasm. Her eyes opened up and took in the sight of her two friends.
‘Bedraggled’ would be a polite descriptor of the pair. ‘Hit repeatedly in the face by a hard, unpleasant truth’ was another, albeit lengthy, way to describe them.
Ain and Enrai looked worn down with weary bodies and broken spirits. Their eyes were clouded with memories of horror, a look Dora was all too familiar with when dealing with slaves who’d spent the majority of their life in chains.
But to her immense relief, a spark of their former vitality had reappeared after the comedy routine in the doorway.
“Come on in,” Dora said kindly, ushering the two into her room. They followed her instructions and plopped down wordless onto her bed. She remained standing as she scrutinized them.
The Healer folded her arms and took in their disheveled appearance. “Do you believe me now?”
“How can something like that place possibly be allowed to exist?” Enrai demanded angrily with his fists clenching unconsciously.
“I don’t know,” Dora said, and shrugged helplessly. “I asked that myself when I first saw Annod Bol.”
She noted how they flinched when she said the dread city’s name and began to probe for information. “Tell me, how close did you get?”
“Fairly close,” Ain said softly. When Enrai wasn’t willing to add anything to the conversation, the elf continued. “We were a stone’s throw from the main gate before we retreated.”
“The full effect of the city’s aura didn’t really hit until we were well within sight of it,” the Grand Elf went on. “At first, there was just a worming, nagging sense of wrongness that settled on our shoulders as we got closer. When we initially caught sight of the city’s walls we felt nothing. As we drew nearer, and those six black towers loomed closer, then the unnaturalness of the place began to strike at us.”
“It was like the city was screaming at us!” Enrai shouted, slamming his fists helpless against the bed. The frame creaked slightly from his assault, and h
e quailed under Dora’s stern glare.
Her gaze softened, and she reached out to pat his shoulder. “It’s alright, you’re here, and not there.”
Enrai’s rough breathing calmed down to a regular rhythm. He gave Dora a weak yet thankful grin, and then spoke up.
“It was wrong. So very wrong! All that misery and suffering, all boiling and fermenting behind those imposing walls… not even Rahmal’Alram felt that horrific, and it was soaked in the Miasma of countless Undead! How can such a place be allowed to exist?!”
“I don’t know how such a place can exist,” Dora said with a sad sigh. “But now you understand why Annod Bol is so reviled. Why its name evokes such fear and distaste. I doubt there are many other places in the entirety of the Dreadlands that contains such a dark, festering legacy.”
“And you were able to stand to be within that city for a several days? Willingly?” Ain inquired, recalling Dora’s tales of her time in the City of Chains. When the half-orc nodded, he shivered, and looked upon her with a great deal of respect. “You’re a stronger person than I’d first believe. I knew you were stout of heart and pure of soul from your actions in Saluda, but this… this goes beyond ‘good’ into ‘saintly.’”
Dora couldn’t help but blush at the praise. She turned her head to the side so they couldn’t see her face light up like a bonfire.
“I’m not that great,” she mumbled, embarrassed but pleased all the same. Enrai let out a quiet laugh.
“No, you really are. I can’t think of any other women I know who’d do so well in the Cracked Land. You can lie to yourself all you want, claiming you’re not a decent person, but in my opinion, you’ve done so much to be proud of.” Enrai held up a hand to stall the inevitable denial. “Yes, I know, you’ve done some questionable things to get by. But that just proves our point about you; despite all the hardships, you still try and do the right thing, and have a moral compass to put Ain and me to shame.”
Dora opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by a loud roar that seemed to shake the room. Three faces turned scarlet in shock and shame, and three pairs of hands reflexively covered up three stomachs.
“Maybe we should find some food before we discuss this matter any further?” Ain suggested. Enrai and Dora both nodded eagerly.
A snicker split the air. Dora tried to hold back her giggles, but they wouldn’t stop, even as she slapped her hands over her mouth. Ain snorted as well, with Enrai not far behind with a muffled guffaw. Then, as if a dam had broken, laughter spilled out of the trio and lifted the somber mood of the room.
Dora wiped away a tear of mirth. She was glad to have her friends back, as well as see them start to unwind and recover from the waking nightmare that was Annod Bol.
“I was thinking about browsing the street vendors for dinner. Want to buy a whole bunch of junk food and eat it in our rooms?”
“I’d like that a lot,” Enrai said with a smile.
Chapter 11: To the south we go!
The next day began with an air of anticipation. The caravan they’d be joining up with for the trek down south was scheduled to arrive soon, so thinking and preparing for departure gave Ain and Enrai a chance to recover from their up-close experience of Annod Bol.
Dora was just as determined and invested in the preparations as the two guys, but for a different reason. Her desire to save her own caravan burned brightly in her soul.
“Does everyone have everything?” Dora inquired as she shouldered her pack and glanced over her shoulder at the elf and human emerging from their room. “No forgotten articles of clothing or misplaced items?”
“Nah, got it all squared away,” Enrai said proudly, patting his own pack fondly.
“I, too, am ready,” Ain declared. Dora nodded and led the pair out of the Crying Fish Inn. She tipped the owner a few copper coins and gave a jaunty wave farewell to the handful of patrons inside the building.
With confident steps she emerged into the morning sunlight and proceeded to head over to the stables to fetch their steeds. The horses would be with them for the rest of the jungle-ward trip, and then sold or traded at the border town before the trio slipped into the Sprawling Jungle.
“There’s a good boy,” Dora murmured comfortingly as she patted her horse’s nose. “Did you enjoy your stay? Come on, let’s get some exercise.”
With a tiny amount of coaxing, Dora led her sturdy steed out of the stables and towards the town’s gate. While people and objects could come and go as they pleased, there just wasn’t enough room for dozens of carts, cages, and crates, as well as the beasts of burden that transported them. In fact, Dora and her two companions had only gotten space in the stables thanks to Reed setting that up for them as well. Otherwise, she’d have had to leave the horses outside the Outpost’s walls for the two nights they’d stayed there.
Due to this, there was a huge, cleared area beyond the Weeping Outpost’s walls that served as parking for the caravans. A mini-market of its own had sprung up here, reminding Dora of the shanty town outside Creidor’s walls.
“What does our esteemed host’s caravan look like? Any notable features? Like a flag or emblem or something recognizable?” Enrai asked as they exited the gate and headed towards the caravan parking lot.
“According to Reed’s note, the Greysliver Caravan has the second highest number of orc and half-orc workers,” Dora said, thinking back to the contents of the letter he’d left for them. “So, if we just look around for a large concentration of green, that should lead us to them.”
“They don’t have heraldry or a marker to show who they are?” Ain asked, surprised.
“Most groups don’t have defining marks. The Yellowmoon Menagerie was an exception, as is the Sunbinder Caravan,” Dora explained. “Most caravans aren’t well known enough to warrant an emblem. Most just choose to carry the symbol of their patron Tower Lord if they desire a symbol to show off who they are. But a few do rise to a certain degree of infamy and earn the right to make an emblem for themselves.”
Enrai shivered at the mention of the Sunbinders. He wasn’t interested in meeting those pyromaniacs anytime soon. Once was enough! He liked fire as much as the next Monk who could set their limbs on fire and create blazing wings capable of flight, but those slavers had taken their fire-lust a bit too far for his liking. And to think their leader was friends with Dora! A madwoman befriending a kind Healer! Would wonders never cease?
Dora noticed the Monk’s discomfort at the reminder of one of the other large and infamous Cracked Land slave caravans, and patted his shoulder.
“There, there. The mean lady and her friends can’t hurt us,” she said teasingly.
“Yeah, but they liked you. Me and Ain? We were just flammable acquaintances,” Enrai pointed out.
“I don’t know about you, but elves are not very flammable,” Ain claimed.
“Yeah, cause you’re all such wet blankets,” the Monk shot back with a roll of his eyes.
“Simmer down boys, I think that’s them up ahead,” Dora said, slapping their shoulders to force their attention back to the matter at hand.
They looked up and followed the Healer’s gaze, where they saw the armored form of Captain Sherfield speaking with a green-skinned person wearing a turban.
Unlike Dora’s mint green flesh, this man, for he was clearly male with a thick and broad chest, had green skin much darker in coloration. It was closer to the green that might be seen on a pickle. In fact, the orc looked a lot like the preserved vegetable in question due to a series of warts and lumps on his face.
Dora stifled a snort at that thought. ‘Don’t insult our host by calling him a pickle,’ she intoned to herself. ‘Don’t do it. The laughs I might make are not worth the fallout!’
“He doesn’t look like I was expecting. Kinda looks like a pickle, honestly,” Enrai whispered to her.
She failed to contain her mirth, emitting a strange, otherworldly combination of a snort and giggle that was desperately muffled by her hands.
Enrai wisely shut up, especially as the minor commotion he’d made with Dora had grabbed the attention of Sherfield and the man who was speaking with the Outpost’s commander.
“Ah, glad to see you up and about,” the armored man said with an easy smile as the trio approached. “I was going to fetch you once I was finished speaking with Durmod here. But since that isn’t necessary, allow me to introduce the two of you. Dora, this is Durmod Greysliver. Durmod, Dora Halfmoon.”
“Greetings,” the orc said, extending his hand to Dora who shook it. He cast a critical look over her and the other two before sighing. “At least you’re a Healer, and able to pull your own weight. The two behind you though look like frail little children. They won’t last a week.”
“Hilarious,” Enrai said dryly.
“Don’t worry about us, we’re more than strong enough to take care of any task you can throw at us,” Ain said stiffly, insulted by the insinuation of weakness.
Durmod ignored them and instead focused on Dora. “I’m only doing this because it’s Reed asking. I normally don’t take strangers onto my crew on a whim, especially not on a one-way trip, either. But since the Blackjack demanded it, and is at least paying for your expenses, I can give you the benefit of the doubt.”
“Wonderful to hear that,” Dora said with an even tone. “Are there any injuries among your caravan? I’ll start healing them now so they can be fresh and ready to depart whenever you wish.”
“We’ll only be staying here for a day to resupply before departing tomorrow morning,” Durmod replied, before jerking a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of tents being erected. “And if anyone of my men have injuries, you’ll find ‘em there, setting up camp. Feel free to ask around.”
The orc then turned away and resumed chatting with Sherfield, arguing about the price for a single day parking permit. With his attention no longer on them, the trio moved off towards the rest of the crew they’d be spending the next leg of the journey with.