The Chained Maiden: Bound by Hope

by Ian Rodgers

  Finding nothing wrong with any of the caravan’s steeds, she relented and left to pitch her tent. She set up in between Enrai and Ain’s tents, making sure she was carefully sandwiched between the two for added protection.

  While waiting for dinner, Dora worked up her courage and approached Ain, who had remained silent all day.

  “Judging from your expression, you want to know if everything Surd said is true,” the Grand Elf stated as he drove the last tent stake into the ground. It wasn’t a question. Ain knew what she wanted.

  “Yeah,” Dora said, trailing off awkwardly. She didn’t know how to ask the questions she wanted answered.

  Ain sighed and waved her over. She stepped closer, hands fiddling nervously with the front of her shirt.

  “Nothing he said was false,” Ain said without preamble, cutting straight to the chase. Dora winced.

  “I’m not going to justify why my people did what they did, nor will I defend them,” Ain went on. “It happened, and there is very little that can be done about it. That said, you shouldn’t worry for my safety. I’m a Spellsword. And a damned good one, at that. I’ll be able to fend for myself if we run into trouble in the jungle.”

  “If the animosity is truly that bad though, I can’t help but feel concerned,” Dora claimed. “No matter how many times you say ‘I’ll be fine,’ I’ll still worry. You are a friend, Ain. I’d rather not see you hurt or get into trouble at all.”

  “And that makes you a good person, a better friend, and a kind soul,” the Grand Elf said with a smile. He patted her knee, the only part he could reach while squatting as he set up his tent. “Enrai and I are glad to have made your acquaintance.”

  “He’s right, you know,” the Qwanese Monk said, having perked up when his name was mentioned. “You’re a pretty great gal and, hang on…” Enrai turned away from the two in order to wrestle down a corner of his tent that had snapped free.

  “Urgh, worthless cheap tent, should never have trusted that merchant… looked shady as a grove of trees! Don’t know why I bother…” the Monk grumbled as he fought with his temporary shelter. “A-ha! Take that, tent! Anyways, yes, love you too, Dora, thanks for all the concern, try to stay back when Ain and I go to work on anyone stupid enough to pick a fight with us because there is a fairly large splash zone when we get serious. Wouldn’t want to get your robes too dirty because of all the blood that’d be flying around.”

  “You both are very, um, confident in your strength,” Dora said, now growing worried about their arrogance towards their own skills.

  “Dora, we’re both the equivalent of high B-rank, low A-rank adventurers. The number of people with that kind of power is small, and are often the backbone of a country’s military prowess. In terms of Orrian power levels, which you might be more familiar with being from Partaevia, a fully armed and armored knight is considered a low C-ranked individual in terms of power. And ranks increase in danger and power level exponentially, so an E-ranker is many times than a D-ranked person, and so on,” Enrai pointed out. “And don’t forget, we’re magic users, to boot! Our attacks have range and the ability to affect a wide area. We’re in no danger around here.”

  “Maybe not here, or amongst this caravan, but who knows what the jungle hides? One of the few things I know about orc culture is that it revolves around personal strength. And then there are the monsters! Do you know, when I was scrounging for information the other day, I found out that Urdrai live inside the Sprawling Jungle?”

  At the mention of Urdrai, both elf and human stiffened. “Yeah, I thought that might catch your attention,” Dora said dryly. “Those monsters are, to quote the person I talked to, ‘unfortunately common’ in there. Urdrai, which are fully capable of taking on freaking dragons, and winning. Urdrai, which will chase down any intruders to their territory without pause. Urdrai, which are S-ranked monsters! You might be strong, but you don’t stand a chance against one of them!”

  “Alright, fair point,” Ain muttered, shooting a nervous glance down south towards their destination.

  “Will, uh, will our path happen to go past any of their known territory?” Enrai asked nervously. The Healer shrugged.

  “No idea. That’s why we’ll be hiring a local guide to take us through the jungle to the colony of Argyne. It won’t be easy or cheap, but at least we’ll be safe. To an extent.”

  “You’re prepared for everything,” Ain said approvingly.

  “Someone amongst us three had to be,” Dora said with a grin, her tone teasing. The trio laughed, the tension from earlier draining away. They were going to be just fine.

  ∞.∞.∞

  “You know, I didn’t think I’d ever see rain in the Cracked Land,” Enrai said. His sentence was punctuated by a deafening explosion of thunder high above. The dark, rain-swollen clouds disgorged their loads even more ferociously, and the winds howled louder.

  “It’s not common, we get maybe two or three days of precipitation per year, but when it rains, it pours,” Dora said from her tent, voice muffled by the fabric and the torrential rain beyond.

  Four days had passed since departing the Weeping Outpost. In that span, the Greysliver Caravan had made decent time towards the Sprawling Jungle. Not as much as Dora would have liked, but they were moving faster than she’d expected.

  Unfortunately, the group had run into bad luck on the road. Thick and threatening storm clouds had loomed ahead since day two, and the air was thick with the scent of promised rain. Durmod had quickly steered the horses and wagons off the beaten path and towards a series of hills and stony outcroppings that provided a meagre amount of shelter. More than if they’d dared to weather it out in the open, though, and the caravan had just gotten everything stowed and set up before the sky exploded and sent water screaming down towards them.

  Now, they waited, trapped in their tents as the storm greeted the Cracked Land in the same manner as a meeting between two old enemies; violently, and with plenty of fluids splashing about.

  “Will the roads be fit to travel on tomorrow?” Ain asked after his ears stopped ringing from a loud burst of thunder.

  “Probably not,” Dora said, a frown audible in her tone. “The dust will have been churned into mud by this storm. The good news is that it will only be impassable for a day. The heat of the Cracked Land will dry it out to the point we can travel the day after tomorrow.”

  “Great. Not sure how… Oh gods!” Enrai began only to be interrupted by the sound of tearing fabric.

  “…Enrai? Is everything alright?” Dora called out. A moment passed where the only sound besides the wind and rain was a tirade of swears shouted in a foreign language.

  “I think his tent got blown down,” Ain mused as he listened to the Qwanese man shouting in his native tongue.

  “Oh, that’s awful! What are you waiting for, Ain, go get him!” Dora called out.

  “But he’ll be all wet, and my tent is nice and dry…”

  “Oh for Cynthia’s sake,” the half-orc grumbled before gingerly opening her tent flap. She was immediately buffeted by a gust of wet wind and she sputtered before braving the weather. “ENRAI! Get in here!”

  A string of curses rang out followed by a sopping wet figure who appeared in front of Dora’s tent. The Healer quickly let him in, and the soaking Monk gasped out a “Thank you!” as he escaped the weather.

  “By the gods!” Enrai panted as he recovered. “That was like standing in front of a monsoon back in Qwan!”

  “Yes, it’s quite the annoyance,” Dora agreed, passing him a towel. He waved it off. Intrigued, the Healer watched as steam began to rise off of Enrai.

  “Internalizing my Fire magic. A nifty trick to dry off quickly,” the Monk explained when he noticed Dora’s curious expression. He waved his hand dismissively, and the steam was gathered up by a breeze and redirected out of the tent, keeping the interior nice and dry. “Tada!”

  “Very impressive,” Dora said, giving Enrai a small round of clapping. He managed to pull off a st
age bow despite sitting cross legged.

  “I try,” he said smugly.

  “So, what happened to your tent?” Dora asked, and Enrai’s face morphed into a grimace.

  “The tent I bought back in the Domain turned out to be less than it had been advertised as,” the Monk complained. “It was enchanted, certainly, but was flimsy and didn’t hold up to the force of the winds. Damn thing tore and then the whole thing collapsed!”

  “That’s a shame,” Dora said with a shake of her head. She tilted her head to the side as a thought came to her. “Hey, what about your bags and equipment?”

  Enrai stared at her for a moment before uttering a curse and crawling back out of the tent. For the next few minutes, she and Ain, and probably the rest of the caravan, could hear the Monk screaming in impotent rage as he chased after his luggage as it was tossed about and soaked by the storm.

  “Think he’ll be okay?” Dora asked worriedly.

  “Yeah, he’ll be fine,” Ain replied dismissively. “Wait, hang on…”

  There was a loud, feminine yelp from the Grand Elf. For a few seconds Dora sat fidgeting with concern when he didn’t respond to her inquiries about his status. Then her tent flap opened up again and Enrai appeared, crawling inside even wetter and disgruntled than before.

  “Um, is Ain…?”

  “He’s fine, I just shoved all my bags and stuff into his tent. He gets the honor of drying my gear out while I hide in here with you,” the Monk explained, performing his heat trick again to steam dry his garments.

  “How very mature of you,” Dora joked.

  “Hey, he could have been a friend and helped me, instead, he chose to be a best friend and laugh at my misery. So, it’s only fair I get to make him do some work with taking care of my things,” Enrai retorted.

  There was a long and calm pause in the tent as the duo sat on Dora’s cot, legs swinging aimlessly as they listened to the rain pound away on the canvas of her tent.

  “Your tent is nice and waterproof. A gift from Reed?” Enrai asked as he looked around, examining the enchantments that kept it warm and dry.

  “Yes, he was quite generous,” Dora said with a faint smile.

  “I’ll say. This is quality work. Wish I’d looked a little closer at the junk the merchant outside the Cracked Land was peddling. You know, he convinced me I wouldn’t need a waterproofing spell on my tent?”

  “To be fair, most people outside the Cracked Land wouldn’t assume rain to be a common enough occurrence to warrant such spells. Only after living here do people realize it,” Dora pointed. “Same situation for Saluda. It’s rare, but they get rainfall every so often. But you never hear it spoken of, because everyone assumes deserts don’t get rain.”

  “Doesn’t change the fact I was ripped off,” Enrai grumbled. “Smooth-talking con man… if I ever see him again, it’ll be so I can demand a refund, and then put a boot up his…” Enrai trailed off as Dora began to snicker.

  “I’m sorry, it’s just funny, thinking about you getting cheated by a merchant,” the half-orc said. “You strike me as someone too worldly to be tricked like that, but then I hear you talk, and remember you’re no older and wiser than I am.”

  She put a finger to her lips in thought. “When you’re silent and meditating you seem so much more… mystical, I guess?”

  “And then he opens his mouth and ruins the image!” Ain shouted from his tent, his voice almost inaudible thanks to the rising fury of the storm outside.

  Enrai grumbled, causing the elf and half-orc to laugh.

  “Dora, how long will the storm last?” Ain called out after settling down.

  “Um, probably well into the night. Why?”

  “In that case, Enrai has to sleep in your tent. I’m not letting him into mine!”

  “What?!” the Monk demanded, while Dora flushed red at the thought of sharing such close, intimate quarters with a man,

  “You dumped all your soggy crap into my tent, Enrai, so now there’s no room for you in here!” Ain shouted back. “That means the only one of us with space to shelter you for the evening is Dora!”

  “B-but that’s…!” Enrai stammered. “I can’t just sleep next to her!”

  “Why not? It isn’t like you two would be tempted to do anything indecent,” the Grand Elf shot back. “And it’s just for one night! Dora, just let the lump sleep on the floor! You don’t even have to offer him a pillow or blanket, he can keep himself warm and cozy with his magic!”

  “…Alright,” Dora said, mumbling to herself with a red face. Then, louder, so Ain could hear, “Alright! But just for tonight! Tomorrow he’s your problem again!”

  “Fair enough!” the Spellsword shouted back.

  For a long time, the sound of rain and thunder dominated the area. The rest of the day was spent in awkward silence between Dora and Enrai, neither of whom was able to look the other in the eye.

  Chapter 13: Divine meetings and betrayal

  The aftermath of the storm lingered for a few days. Thick, gooey grey mud stretched out as far as the eye could see. As the sun continued to rise high into the sky day after day more and more of the wet earth dried out and hardened into a passable road once more.

  For everyone in the Greysliver Caravan, despite the rain making a mess and setting them back two whole days, the mood was chipper as they once again made their way south. For one, it was nice and cool thanks to the rain dowsing the scorching soil. And second, there was no dust flying around to make people miserable. The infamous dust of the Cracked Land was still too wet, giving the travelers in the area almost an entire week of freedom from the irritating particles.

  Dora’s mind was on other things over the course of the week. Without meaning to, she kept remembering the night Enrai had spent in her tent. Whenever she tried to think about how she’d rescue Holt and Scarrot and the rest, her mind would always drift to thoughts about whether or not they’d like Enrai. And when she attempted to plan and rehearse her speech to try and convince the Unchained Legion to help her, her eyes snagged onto the Monk’s visage out of the corner of her eye and she’d suddenly be fantasizing about the two of them.

  ‘Damned hormones!’ Dora growled to herself, disgusted at her body’s betrayal. Sure, Enrai was cute. She’d even go so far as to call the Monk handsome! And despite his flirting, which had toned down over the time they’d spent together, he never saw or treated her as anything less than an equal. That fact genuinely pleased her, as so many saw only her skin color or her gender and didn’t bother with anything else.

  But she couldn’t find it in herself to consider Enrai as more than a friend. No matter what her traitorous feminine side said. Dora wasn’t even sure what she wanted, anymore.

  So it was that Dora sat on her knees in her tent a week after that fateful storm, staring at two objects she’d desperately tried to ignore: a cast-iron idol of a man wrapped in chains, and a necklace with simple silver and gold charms. A silver bolt of cloth, a silver lily flower, and a golden dove were strung together with a thin piece of string that had become badly frayed yet still somehow remained intact over many years.

  The former had a long crack running from top to bottom, and the Healer was reminded of what had happened in Naliot’s realm, and how the door to his realm had shudder and broken, resulting in an identical crack along its surface as the Divine Family tried to reach her. There was a sense of defeat that clung to the idol of the Enslaver God, and it lacked any sense of divinity.

  On the other hand, the charms on the necklace shone brightly, the three religious icons beautifully pristine despite not having been cleaned or polished for about three years.

  It was nighttime, and the moon was hidden by clouds. Darkness was all around her, alleviated only by a single candle that flickered weakly in her tent. Dora took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

  ‘What kind of person am I, to pray for guidance over a stupid matter of the heart?’ Dora thought bitterly to herself. ‘I refused to pray when the Menagerie was taken
from me. I refused to pray when I went to Saluda. I even refused to pray after encountering the gods-damned Vord the Undying! But here I am, about to beg for help on this stupid, pointless topic!’

  “I’m sorry to hear that you believe love to be a worthless subject.” Dora gasped as a young and musical voice filled her ears and her eyes snapped open.

  White. All she could see was white. Purest white. Ivory white. Eggshell white. Every shade of white was present before her. The half-orc floated in the whiteness, confused but also filled with a strong sense of awe at the purity of her surroundings. At first, as she drifted, there was no sign of the person who had spoken to her.

  Then, the white around Dora gave way to silver and gold. A figure of glowing energy pushed its way through the emptiness and formed before her.

  Dora’s breath caught in her throat, and she was unable to breathe for a few seconds as a young woman of unearthly beauty appeared before her.

  Her hair was like spun gold. It fell straight to her shoulders without the tiniest hint of curl or split end. Atop her head lay a platinum circlet, with a single opal in the center. A simple yet elegant silver dress covered her body, her flawless skin the color of alabaster.

  But above all, her eyes were what drew Dora’s attention: swirling pools of quicksilver that were filled with a bottomless supply of love. And at that moment, all of that adoration was directed at her. The half-orc felt faint being the subject of such intense emotions.

  When Dora tried to focus on another aspect of the figure, she found she couldn’t. Silver and gold static flickered across the materialized woman’s body, distorting her appearance. Only the eyes remained untouched by whatever was interfering with her.

  Still, the half-orc knew who this entity was. Dora had known when she’d first appeared before her.

  “Lady Nia,” she whispered, voice choked with reverence and a tinge of disbelief.

  “Correct, it is I,” the goddess of love said, giving Dora a warm smile.

  The Healer shook her head violently. “No! No, this is all a trick! You can’t be here!”