The Chained Maiden: Bound by Hope

by Ian Rodgers

  “This is beautiful!” the half-orc exclaimed as she took a look at the gift. It was a fragment of ivory white coral that pulsed softly with alternating shades of blue and green light. The coral piece had been shaped carefully into a facsimile of a fish of some sort. Or perhaps a whale? It had a round body and a tail-fin. Very abstract, but well made.

  “Th-that is a token of favor,” Fenna revealed, a slight stutter to her words. “You can use it among other merfolk as a sign you have been accepted as a friend of the Azulos. Or, it can also be used as a key to gain access to a very exclusive resort.”

  “Thank you. It’s amazing, and probably more than we deserve,” Dora said.

  “Th-the token will turn black and lose its glow if it is stolen or taken forcibly, so others will know I gave it to you willingly,” Fenna went on. “A-and I hope that, maybe, you’ll come by and see me again?”

  “If we’re ever in the region afterwards, gladly,” the Healer agreed. Fenna smiled shyly, before turning to Enrai.

  “Thank you for saving me last night,” she said, fidgeting and unable to look her savior in the eyes.

  “Like I said, I was glad to help a lovely mermaid such as your-urk!” Enrai’s sentence choked to a halt as Fenna leapt out of the water and landed a quick kiss onto the Monk’s cheek before she dove back into the water, her face a deep violet.

  Her aunt laughed at that, and Dora giggled as well as the stunned silly look on Enrai’s face. There were a few hoots and hollers from the mermen nearby before the Governess cut them off with a stern look.

  “Farewell, Dora Halfmoon. May your journey be successful, and your travels safe.”

  Dora stifled her mirth long enough to give one last farewell to the merfolk’s leader. “You as well, Governess of the Lake of Tears. Stay safe out there.”

  Another round of bows went around, and then the group of merfolk disappeared beneath the water, their forms fading into the depths.

  “Well, this certainly was a productive day. Not only did we acquire some goods we can trade if the need arises, but you became the envy of many of a seafaring man with that kiss,” Dora said, leering at Enrai who was now blushing up a storm.

  “Stop kissing fishes Enrai and help me pack up!” Ain shouted over his shoulder at the pair. “And Dora! Do you think we can make it to an actual town if we start riding out now?”

  “Yes, we should be able to reach one before nightfall,” the Healer claimed, thinking back to the many maps she’d looked over back at Reed’s manor.

  “Great! Now let’s go. I don’t want to sleep on rocks tonight!”

  Chapter 9: The town of tears

  “Enjoy your rest last night?” Dora asked, a wide grin on her face. Ain looked away and mumbled something.

  “What was that? I couldn’t hear you,” the half-orc teased, riding her horse up alongside the Grand Elf’s steed.

  Ain just huffed and looked away, refusing to speak to her. Enrai, on the other hand, had no such hold-ups.

  “The beds were awful! Even worse than you’d alluded to! Sleeping on rocks would have been preferable! Sure, they might poke you in the back, but at least they don’t move and crawl beneath the mat!” The Monk shivered as he recalled the night they’d spent in one of the nearby fishing town’s ‘inns.’

  Dora had chosen to save her money and spent the night camping out a short way away from the settlement. As such, she was spared the horrific experience of waking up to some sort of mutated bedbug eating her undergarments. Ain and Enrai? No such luck.

  It was with humor in her heart, and twitching regrets in her companions’ souls, that they set out after a night that had not been worth it. Especially since the two had had to pay for the damages they’d caused when they let loose accidental bursts of mana in fright at being swarmed with fabric-hungry insects.

  “Now, we shouldn’t be too far from the southernmost point of the Lake of Tears. Just another day or so of travel. It’s a little spot called Weeping Outpost. From there, we’ll follow alongside one of the jungle-bound caravans. If possible, we’ll attach ourselves to one as guards for hire for the trip down,” Dora explained.

  “Won’t that slow us down, though?” Ain inquired. “A large group of people takes much longer to get anywhere, after all.”

  “True, but it’s also the easiest way to get past the border checks,” Dora revealed. “The orcs keep a tight rein on who enters their territory. A holdover from the War of Tusks. If you enter with a big group, it’s easier to blend in. No one pays too much attention to the hired help. We could try and enter as a trio, but we’d be watched a lot more closely by the border guards.”

  “Sounds reasonable,” Enrai said after thinking it over. “What sort of traders visit the Sprawling Jungle, anyways?”

  “Salt merchants, mostly,” Dora said. “They trade salt processed from the Lake of Tears, as well as pearls and the occasional magical tools. Then, on the northward trip, they take away lumber, metal, and slaves.”

  “Orcs practice slavery?” Ain inquired, a hint of disgust in his question.

  “Sort of,” the half-orc said, flinching somewhat when she heard the Spellsword’s tone. “It’s mostly prisoners of war taken from inter-tribal feuds, or more likely criminals like smugglers, thieves, and the like who make trouble and get caught along the border. From what Scarrot told me, they see slavery more as a long-term community service sort of deal, rather than an actual business practice.”

  “If only that was the case,” Enrai said, sounding slightly wistful. Dora nodded at that. The ride continued on in silence. Only the thud of hooves and the scratching of dust broke the monotony.

  ∞.∞.∞

  True to Dora’s words, the group only had to spend another day in the saddle before the mudbrick walls of the Outpost rose up before them.

  The base was smaller than Creidor, but just as busy, with lines of horses and wagons bearing cargo coming and going ceaselessly. It also clung to the shore of the Lake of Tears, so it had a decent dock that admitted fishing boats of all shapes and sizes.

  “So, this is Weeping Outpost,” Dora said, looking it over carefully. A flag was flying from the roof of one of the taller buildings in the town. Blue with a green wagon wheel. The half-orc recognized it as the heraldry of one of the lesser Tower Lords of Annod Bol.

  ‘Although, with Lord Krave dead and rumors of Lord Tiegan suffering a heart attack floating around, who knows which of the other four Tower Lords have risen to dominate the city by now?’ Dora mused darkly.

  “Be careful, both of you,” Dora informed the pair as they drew closer to the walls. “Weeping Outpost is under the control of one of the Tower Lords. If we cause a ruckus or make a mess, we’ll either be slapped in chains, or worse.”

  “Do you really think they’ll have the means to imprison us?” Ain asked haughtily. Enrai nodded in agreement with the sentiment.

  “Yeah, I’ve yet to encounter anyone in this place who can even compare to our strength!”

  Dora eyed them, worried that their pride and disbelief would lead to trouble down the line. In the end though she just sighed and shook her head.

  “Please, don’t cause any problems. Even if no one in the Outpost can match up to you, it’s still territory belonging to one of the rulers of Annod Bol.”

  “You know, you keep talking about that place like it’s a horror show, but I just don’t see it,” Enrai said with a shake of his head.

  “You never believe until you witness it for yourself,” Dora replied, shivering at the thought of the six black pillars that shot high into the sky surrounded by the vast, unyielding wall.

  “Say, how far is this city anyways from here?” Enrai wondered.

  “It took the Yellowmoon Menagerie a week to travel from the Lake of Tears to its outer limits, so I guess only two days horseback for us,” Dora said after thinking about the distances.

  Enrai grinned, causing a knot of worry to form in her stomach.

  “I can fly much, much faster than a hors
e can run, so if I tried, I could probably get there in less than a day,” the Monk mused, and Ain nodded thoughtfully as well.

  “And my own magic can accelerate my body to impressive speeds, making it a quick trip as well.”

  “Oh, no! No, no, no! You’re not ditching me and going off on some reckless adventure!” Dora scolded, shaking her finger sternly at the pair.

  “We promise not to do so! Not right now, at least,” Enrai laughed. “How long do you think it will take to get us lined up with a convoy headed south?”

  “A day or two,” Dora grudgingly admitted.

  “Then that’s what we’ll do! For the rest of today, Ain and I will help you browse for a caravan to take us on as guards. Then tomorrow morning, the two of us will take a quick trip to check out this Annod Bol place,” Enrai declared.

  By now, the group had drawn closer to the traffic heading into the Weeping Outpost, and his cheerful words had elicited scoffs and amused snorts from the long-time denizens of the Cracked Land. Dora shook her head sadly.

  “Fine. I can see that the only way you’ll trust my words is if you see the damned place yourself. Just be back around dusk tomorrow.”

  Dora rolled her eyes as Enrai and Ain congratulated each other for wearing her down. She knew they’d come crawling back to her, apologies on their lips! And maybe, just maybe, she’d forgive them.

  …Ah, who was she kidding? She’d definitely forgive the two morons for not believing her warnings about the City of Chains. Even she had been skeptical of the matter before she’d seen the place in person. But actually being there, getting accused of murder, almost becoming a sacrifice to release a Demon Lord onto the city, foiling said sacrificial scheme, and finally helping one of the few people she could call a friend escape by stealing an ancient Titan weapon? Yeah, that had been one crazy visit. And had more than sold her on the truth of Annod Bol’s twisted existence.

  She straightened up and put away her thoughts, though, as a human in heavy armor wearing a blue cape and bearing a green wagon wheel symbol on his pauldrons approached her and her companions. He cut through the traffic, or rather, the traffic parted around him. Even without the heraldry of the local ruler decorating his armor, his commanding aura alone was enough to inform Dora this man was in charge around these parts.

  She brought her horse to a stop, and the man in armor nodded at her. She nodded back, her head bowing deeper than his.

  “Are you Dora of the Yellowmoon Menagerie?” he inquired.

  “I am,” she declared firmly. “May I ask for your name?”

  “Captain Sherfield, commander of the Weeping Outpost and Enforcer for Lord Waile of Annod Bol,” the knight-like man stated. “I’m here though on behalf of Blackjack Reed. He sent orders ahead that we were to welcome you and assist you in finding passage south.”

  “Much appreciated, Captain Sherfield,” Dora said gratefully. The Enforcer nodded and beckoned for her and her group to accompany him. She motioned for her friends to follow and they were led into the modest town.

  “I hope you don’t find my question rude, but what exactly does Lord Waile control around here? I have to admit I’m not very up-to-date on recent politics. Not after Lord Krave died and Lord Tiegan suffered complications,” Dora inquired, hoping to glean some new information on the status of the dread city. Partly for her own curiosity, but Scarrot and Holt would need to be updated on what had happened while they’d been gone.

  “Lord Waile currently controls a third of the farmland around Annod Bol, and half of the southern trade,” Captain Sherfield stated. “Following the death of Lord Krave and Lord Tiegan, the city underwent a short period of unrest that has now been pacified. There are now only four Houses at the moment. New Tower Lords will be selected eventually to restore the balance, but at the moment no suitable candidates have been decided on.”

  “Hmmm, that sounds like a lot of trouble. Any names you can share?” Dora asked.

  “Scarrot was nominated, but due to his current, um, indisposition, he was removed from the candidate pool.”

  Dora jerked back in surprise and almost tumbled out of her saddle in shock. Sherfield laughed at the Healer as she struggled to right herself on her horse.

  “Yes, I was expecting that reaction,” the armored Enforced snickered.

  “Whuh? Huh? Hah?” Dora babbled nonsensically. Enrai stifled a laugh, only to shut up when Ain slapped the back of his head.

  “H-how can this be? Scarrot is-! I mean, he’s-! Who on Erafore thought he was leadership material?!” Dora demanded, aghast at the thought of the surly, grumpy green-skin in a position of overwhelming power.

  A tremor of fear, incredulousness, and more than a little humor, ran along the length of her spine as she imagined Scarrot dressed up in a fancy suit with jeweled rings on his fingers.

  “Did not need that image in my head,” she muttered, annoyed, and she shook her head to rid her skull of it. Ignoring the snickers from the people around her, she glanced back to the knight with another question on her lips.

  “Do you have a merchant lined up to take us on as extra help?” Dora inquired, and Captain Sherfield nodded.

  “We do. Or at least, Reed does. He used his connections to find a caravan for you and your two companions to work with. I will give you the information once I’ve dropped you off at the inn.” The armored man noted Dora’s questioning look, and he elaborated. “Reed also paid for rooms for you three. Three days, total.”

  Dora accepted that with a polite nod, silently thanking the aging mayor of Creidor in her thoughts. Her back straightened unconsciously, her body filled with a desire not to disappoint or shame the man who’d done so much for her by looking weak.

  It was not long after that the group entered Weeping Outpost and took in the sights, such as they were. The town was small, with the only interesting features being the caravan loading grounds just outside the main gate, and the rickety docks that brought in the scents of salt water and seafood to the settlement.

  Reed had gotten the trio rooms at the finest inn in the Outpost. Of course, there were only two inns in the entire place. Thankfully, the Crying Fish was clean and safe and easily up to the standards of a medium-quality inn from any place outside the Dreadlands, as it catered to the higher-end folk who came around. Namely caravan bosses and agents for the Tower Lords. No one would bother Dora and her friends as long as they stayed there.

  The inn had a wide and well-maintained stable attached to it, allowing visitors to park their wagons and horses for the duration of their stay. With practiced ease, Dora swung herself off her rental steed’s back, and quickly tended to him. She also had to help Enrai with his own horse, as the Qwanese Monk hadn’t fully gotten the hang of handling horses yet. He was learning, though, which made the half-orc proud.

  After getting their precious mounts situated, the group entered the inn where Captain Sherfield awaited them.

  “This is the information on the caravan that’ll be taking you on,” Sherfield said as he stood with the group in the lobby of the Crying Fish, passing Dora a scroll bound with a loop of simple string. “They’ll be here in two days and departing shortly after. You’ll likely have to spend a night or two with the caravan in tents outside, unless you want to pay for another day in the inn.”

  “Thank you for the information, and we’ll keep that in mind,” Dora said. Lord Waile’s Enforcer nodded and then exited, his own duties demanding his attention.

  Dora accepted the keys from the innkeeper and led the elf and human up to their rooms. There were only two rooms for the three of them. Ain and Enrai would have to share. As the sole woman of the group, Reed had splurged and paid for a room all for herself. A quick examination of the room later, and Dora pushed the pair into her room for a meeting.

  “We got to Weeping Outpost in good time, even with that pause to help the merfolk,” Dora stated cheerfully. She then showed the two the scroll. “Now, let’s see who Reed got to help us.”

  She untied the scro
ll and opened it, eyes darting over the contents. She pursed her lips and nodded slowly.

  “Well? Who is it?” Enrai asked impatiently.

  “Um, some caravan I’ve never heard of. Let’s see… the Greysliver Caravan. Led by Durmod Greysliver. Says here he’s… an orc?” Dora exclaimed, reading the scroll. She looked closer. “OK, according to Reed’s information, this Durmod fellow does the salt-slave run. He transports processed sea salt down south to the Sprawling Jungle, and then carts a batch of slaves up north. Rinse and repeat.”

  “We won’t have to deal with the, uh, ‘northward’ portion of Mister Greysliver’s business, will we?” Enrai questioned, worry in his tone. Dora looked up and upon seeing the concern in both his and Ain’s eyes, she quickly reassured them.

  “No, not at all. We won’t have to deal with any slaves during the trip. It’ll all be salt, and maybe some preserved seafood,” Dora said. Enrai and Ain let out sighs of relief.

  Eventually the Monk perked back up. “So, who wants to take a look around town for a bit? See the sights?”

  ‘I’m good, thanks,” Dora said with a shake of her head. “We have plenty of supplies and I don’t feel the need to go shopping quite yet. I’ll probably look around tomorrow. When you two are gone. On that stupid little sightseeing idea of yours.”

  “You sound like you think visiting Annod Bol for a day is a bad idea,” Ain said dryly, the sarcasm in his voice thick like molasses.

  “I’ve already warned you two. And like I’ve already said, I’ll be waiting for you to come crawling to me on your knees for forgiveness,” the half-orc retorted with a snort.

  As usual, neither believed her. Ain and Enrai exited her room, leaving Dora alone to relax until dinner time. And she took that up with gusto.

  “Oh, sweet, comfortable beds not crawling with magical bedbugs! I’ve missed you!” Dora gushed as she flopped onto the soft mattress with a sigh of contentment.