The Chained Maiden: Bound by Hope

by Ian Rodgers

  “Hello, Uncle Nator!” Anette said with a happy wave towards the figure, who waved back.

  “Hello, child. And who is this specimen? The rumored guest I’ve heard so much about?” the hooded being inquired, it’s voice sending shivers of disgust down Dora’s spine.

  “I might be,” she said defensively as she sat down at the long table with Dora on her left, and her Undead escort taking up a spot behind her chair.

  “Hmm. Don’t have many Healers visiting the place. Surprised at the level of trust Master Vord is showing, allowing you to walk around uninhibited and with access to your magic.”

  “I’m not an idiot. I know that if I try anything, to escape or exorcise an Undead or two, Lord Vord will come down on my head hard. I’m rather fond of living,” Dora said dryly. The figure laughed, its voice a loathsome bubbling gurgle. It then turned back to the bowl of soup in front of it. Which, to Dora’s disgust, was filled with nothing but blood and some raw fleshy bits she did not want to look to closely at.

  To add to her horror, the creature leaned its head down towards the bowl. Rather than use a spoon, a thick, fleshy tube-like proboscis filled with teeth emerged from the depths of the hood and went into the soup bowl, slurping up the noisome concoction greedily.

  Dora gagged at the sight and forced down the bile that rose in her throat. Anette did not seem to notice or care that the thing across from her was eating in a grotesque manner. She was simply humming a tune the half-orc vaguely recognized as a Partaevian nursery rhyme and kicking her legs as she waited for a waiter to appear.

  Soon enough one did, also a skeleton dressed in a servant’s uniform. It approached the two of them, bowed, and inquired as to what they wished to eat.

  “I’d like some pasta and meat sauce, please. Ooh, and can I also have a glass of milk?”

  The skeleton waiter bowed its head towards Anette’s request, before glancing over at Dora.

  “So, the chefs can make anything on demand?” Dora inquired curiously.

  “You betcha!” the creature called ‘Uncle’ Nator called out, his words muffled somewhat by the fact that it’s ‘mouth’ was still inside the contents of the soup bowl.

  “Yup, yup! Anything and everything! They’re really talented!” Anette said.

  “Well, alright. Um, can I get a steak, medium rare, with some turnip mash and gravy on the side?” the half-orc asked, and the waiter bowed again before departing to inform the cooks.

  As the girls waited, they chatted a bit more. Dora didn’t try to wheedle anything related to Vord from the young girl since they were being watched, but she did find out that the Solemn Mausoleum had been built by the now extinct race known as the Centaurs.

  “Real shame they all died off during the Great Calamity and its aftermath,” Nator mused sadly. “Their architecture is quite nice for us non-bipedal beings. Did you know this whole palace doesn’t have a single set of stairs? It’s all slopes, ramps, and inclines!”

  “Makes sense. I can’t imagine a horse, or a person with the lower half of one, having an easy time with steps,” Dora said, trying to imagine Starspot walking up and down a staircase and wincing.

  She then looked askance at the hooded figure. “It’s still strange for me to imagine you being a historian, Nator. Leech-kin are not exactly known for their love of academics.”

  Nator sighed but nodded his head in agreement. “A sad state of affairs, that is. Many of my people are content with being savages. Wallowing in mud and filth and draining people of their blood and guts instead of their brains and knowledge! But not I. Master Vord has shown me there is more to magic and the world than swamps and preying on foolish adventurers.”

  Nator was an odd one. He still disgusted Dora, but to be fair, he was a giant, sapient leech with a vaguely human torso that was capable of speech! Very few beings wouldn’t be revolted by his species.

  “Oh, please! You, a sophisticated being? I scoff at the notion! Scoff, I say!” An extremely condescending voice filled the dining hall, and a sickly pale man sauntered in before sitting down a few chairs away from Nator.

  “Ah, Marconis. How lovely to see you. Did you finally find enough eye-liner and rouge to look like the manwhore you are?” Nator shot back. The man, Marconis, threw his head back theatrically and laughed.

  “I’ll have you know I have no need of such things to attract a female!” The one known as Marconis declared. His vibrantly red eyes, fang-like incisors, and deathly pale pallor all pointed towards this member of Vord’s entourage as being a vampire.

  Dora avoided eye-contact with the bloodsucker, but Anette went and waved happily at the man.

  “Hello, Uncle Marconis!”

  “Hello, dear child. Lovely dress as always. Mmm, and who is this succulent and minty lady?” Marconis inquired, unsubtly licking his lips as he looked at Dora. He recoiled with a hiss when her hands lit up with silver and green colored Light magic.

  “Not interested,” she stated in a deadpan. Once she was certain the vampire had gotten the message she stopped using her magic. Papa the Dullahan snorted in amusement and Nator laughed.

  “Teach you to mess with one of the Master’s guests, you pompous blowhard,” the Leech-kin sneered.

  “Shove it up your species’ version of an a-!”

  “Swear!” Anette shouted, pointing accusingly at Marconis, who flinched as the Dullahan grumbled ominously.

  “I didn’t say it, my dear!” he protested, but it was a feeble attempt.

  “But you were gonna!” the young Necromancer rebutted. He couldn’t argue with that, and slumped his shoulders.

  “Is everyone in this place strange, and/or insane?” Dora whispered to Anette, unnerved by the sight of a vampire and Leech-kin interacting with each other in such an odd way. The girl shrugged.

  “Grandpa said all the people with lots of power get a little bit silly in the head,” Anette declared.

  “Huh. I see,” Dora muttered. Conversation ended when the waiter returned with their food, and Dora eagerly tore into the delicious feast laid before her. She’d never seen a steak so big or so well prepared, and it tasted divine! Even the thought that it had been made by an Undead could not curb her enjoyment of the meal.

  “Oogh, I think I ate too much,” Anette whined afterwards, holding her stomach.

  “You ate too fast is what you did,” Dora scolded her, using a cloth napkin to wipe the sides of her mouth clean of the meat sauce residue.

  Marconis looked at the scene in amusement as he bit into his extra rare steak. The young human might be a new addition to Lich’s assorted collection of Undead and Dark magic wielding minions, but he’d always had a soft spot for children, and Anette fit right in with the rest of the horrors the Lich controlled.

  Oh, she was cute and was rather upbeat despite being surrounded by monsters, abominations, and the refuse of Erafore, but there was a twisted and broken nature in her soul that was undeniable. She was one of them, and as a lieutenant in Vord’s Grave Army, Marconis was certain she would soon rise quickly through the ranks. Unlike the Lich’s last apprentice.

  There was also quite a bit of respect towards Dora as well in the vampire’s thoughts. She loathed the Undead. She’d been raised to despise the Darkness and its offspring. Despite that, the half-orc was compassionate and even acting like a surrogate elder sister to Anette. Perhaps it was her own experiences with persecution that let her bond with the human child.

  Nator, on the other hand, observed the tender scene with apathy mixed with confusion. Kindness was an almost foreign concept to the Leech-kin, who had been persecuted by all beings since the day they were spawned by the Worm-Sire, one of the Thirteen Demon Lords of the Abyss. The concept of affection did not exist in their alien minds, either. Watching the Healer, a being of the Light, tend to Anette, a servant of the Dark, in so fond and caring a manner, filled the Leech-kin with conflicting emotions. Mostly disgust, but a hint of envy was also there, quickly stamped down before it could grow.

  �
�I’ve heard tell you petitioned the master for knowledge on the location of your companions. If you have the answer, why are you still here?” Nator inquired, a suspicious tone in his burbling voice.

  “Come now, Nator, show some respect!” Marconis shot back. “I’m sure she, Mmm!, just wants to rest before departing.”

  Dora raised an eyebrow at the vampire’s verbal tick before mentally shrugging. ‘Not the weirdest quirk I’ve ever encountered. Though I don’t like the way he licks his lips whenever he looks at me.’

  Out loud, she said, “Yes, it’s true I was told the answer. But that is only part of the problem. See, I have no idea on how to get to where my family is being held! Lord Vord claimed that such knowledge was not part of the deal, so I’m here to hopefully get a second attempt to earn his favor and get the answer that way.”

  The two Dark beings nodded at that. Anette, however, pouted and stared up at Dora with sad eyes.

  “Does this mean you don’t want to stay here with me?”

  “Oh, sweetie, that’s, well, um, you see,” Dora stammered. She pointedly ignored the vampire and Leech-kin laughing at her expense as she tried to find a good way to answer. “Look, it’s not you. Not at all! You’re a wonderful girl, who has a bright, or maybe I guess ‘dim’ would be the proper term in this context, future. But I can’t stay here. I don’t belong.”

  “I see,” Anette said sadly, looking down at her lap with an aura of depression swallowing her up.

  Dora winced as she felt the aura settle upon the young girl. It was like a miniature shroud of Miasma, born of her own Dark magic.

  “Look, Anette, I know what you’re going through. Feeling lost, and alone. As if no one cares, and everyone is out to get you,” Dora said, getting out of her chair and down onto her knees so she could look the girl in her heterochromatic eyes.

  “I’ve felt that almost my entire life. My mother, blessed as she was, tried her best to help me, but I was always surrounded by enemies,” Dora revealed. “However, ever since I came to the Dreadlands, that has changed. I’ve found something important to me. A family, who love me for who and what I am.”

  “The Yellowmoon Menagerie is not a good place. The people who run it and work for it are slavers, one and all. Oh, sure, they try to limit what they deal in, and prefer capturing monsters and beasts over humans and other sapients, but at the end of the day, they’re all what any civilized person would call evil.”

  Dora suddenly smiled, her heart filled with thoughts and memories of the past several years with the caravan. “But I don’t care about that. Yes, I hate the fact that I am a slaver, or at least aiding them, but they love me. Care for me. For the first time, I have many people who don’t care that my skin is green, my teeth are sharp, and my voice is rough. Scarrot, Holt, Reesh, Uldo, and all the rest? They see me for me. To them, I’m Dora the Healer. Not a half-blooded freak. Not a green-skinned menace. Just Dora. Only Dora. And because of that, they are my family. And I have to save them. They mean the world to me.”

  Anette sniffled, and rubbed away tears from her eyes. There was still sadness within her, but it was no longer a physical and magical presence that clung to her body and soul.

  “Do you really love them that much?”

  “As much as they love me,” Dora said softly with a nod.

  “Do you, do you think I’ll have a family like that myself someday?” she whispered, hopeful yet scared.

  “Oh, Anette, look around you,” Dora said with a tiny laugh. “You already have one!”

  The little girl glanced around her. Behind her, stoic and always at her side, was her papa. And though nothing had changed in his posture, there was a strong feeling of protection and care radiating from him that she sensed. Across the table were two of her uncles. Marconis smiled sheepishly, as if embarrassed by the truth of Dora’s statement, and Nator weakly waved at her.

  A smile slowly crept across Anette’s face, hesitant and cautious at first, but swiftly blooming into a radiant grin of joy as she realized Dora’s words were true. Then came the tears. But they were ones of pure happiness rather than sorrow, and for a moment her aura felt as bright as Light magic.

  “Thank you!” she cried, tears streaming down her face as she threw herself at Dora for a hug. The Healer bore the hug with a soft smile and proceeded to stroke Anette’s hair as her own mother used to do.

  As Anette sniffled into Dora’s shirt, Marconis cleared his throat. “This was, Mmm, a lovely and heartfelt moment. Tell me, miss Healer, where exactly are you trying to go? Perhaps I can be of assistance?”

  “I, too, possess much arcane and esoteric knowledge,” Nator added. “My wisdom would no doubt be above anything a vampire could provide.”

  “My family is trapped inside the Lost City of Targua,” Dora said before the two Dark beings could come to blows. Both of them winced at that and shook their heads.

  “Ah. That place. Well, I have some ideas of how you could enter it, but it’s known as the ‘Lost City’ for a reason. Most beings cannot enter the city on purpose, only those who have wandered and lost their way can reliably enter it. And for most, ‘tis a death sentence,” Marconis said apologetically.

  “My own knowledge is slightly better, but in all things Targua is a dangerous place,” Nator said. “It is brimming with demons and other foul specters. And, like the bloodsucker stated, the concept of ‘Loss’ and ‘Misdirection’ have been seared into its very foundations.”

  The Leech-kin paused, tapping his ‘chin’ for a moment. “That said, I do know a few rituals that could teleport you into the place. Assuming you like making contracts with demons, that is. If I find a demon who currently resides in Targua, I could use that connection to bounce you into the Aether and the Lost City.”

  “I don’t think I want anything more to do with demons, if that’s alright,” Dora said, shivering at the thought of bonding with a creature as anathema to life as that.

  And there was also the incident with the Queen Swathed in Vermillion to consider. If that Demon Lord found out Dora was in the Aether and consorting with demons, she’d send her own demonic minions after her.

  “That limits our options, then,” Nator said with an apologetic shrug.

  “Why don’t you just ask the Avatar of Kurnos?” asked Anette.

  Dora looked down at the little girl, and the other two Dark beings looked at each other in shock before slapping their foreheads.

  “Of course! Such a simple answer!” Marconis said with a self-deprecating laugh.

  “Who is the, um, Avatar of Kurnos?” Dora inquired, not having heard that name before.

  “I was just learning about that a few weeks ago!” Anette declared proudly. “Grandpa was explaining to me about the gods and their mortal servants. Paladins and Clerics, you know? But there is a third type of person who can serve a god; an Avatar, someone who so deeply embodies the teachings and powers of a certain god they act as the Voice and the Eyes of said divine being. Any god can have an Avatar, but there are a lot of requirements.”

  “Grandpa told me that there are only two Avatar’s currently alive right now; the Avatar of Tywin, god of Alchemists and brewers, and the Avatar of Kurnos, god of the hunt,” Anette continued as she recited her lesson with the Lich. “And Kurnos’ Avatar would be capable of devising a spell that would allow you entry into a ‘hunting ground,’ as it were.”

  “That just might work,” Dora said, nodding thoughtfully and with a tiny amount of hope. “Where does this Avatar live?”

  “The current Avatar of Kurnos does not live in one set spot. He does, however, travel with a large group of wanderers. Ever heard of the Unchained Legion?” Marconis inquired.

  “Oh. Oohhh,” the half-orc uttered. “That mercenary army composed of freed slaves and their descendants? Those people who attack any and all slaver caravans they come across? The hunters who hunt the biggest and most deadly game that even the Adventurer’s Guild won’t willingly touch?”

  “Yes, them,” Nator said,
nodding in agreement. “The current Avatar works for the Unchained Legion. Not sure if he’s a scout, or an officer, or what, but he travels with them, one way or another.”

  Dora bit her lower lip in worry. ‘They despise slavery. Scarrot and the rest were slavers. Would they even be willing to help me?’

  “It’s the best lead I have at the moment,” Dora finally sighed, making up her mind. She looked down at Anette with a thankful smile on her face. “Thank you. You’ve helped me more than you can imagine.”

  The girl with two different eye colors smiled happily, though a hint of sadness lay in it.

  “Will you come back and visit me someday?”

  “Maybe,” Dora said, hedging her bets. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to without Lord Vord’s permission. But when you are older, I wouldn’t mind if you came and visited me, wherever I might be.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise,” Dora said firmly. “I would always want to see my little sister again.”

  The half-orc wasn’t sure when she’d first thought of calling Anette her sibling. But it felt right, and from the sheer awe and joy the young Necromancer displayed, it was clearly the correct choice.

  “How very touching.”

  Dora stiffened, and there was a choking gasp as Marconis and Nator jerked upright as they heard the voice, swiftly bowing towards the source. The skeletal servants all bowed deeply as well, and even the Dullahan inclined its headless neck towards the Lich who had entered the dining room without warning.

  Only Anette showed no outward surprise or desire to show fealty. She remained clamped onto Dora’s shirt, still getting over the seesaw of emotions she’d just gone through.

  “Greetings, Lord Vord,” Dora said, awkwardly trying to stand and bow with the young girl clung to her. She was not sure if the Lich’s words had been mocking or not, as they’d lack any tone or inflection at all.