The Chained Maiden: Bound by Hope

by Ian Rodgers

  “Why do you think I am not who I claim to be?” Nia asked politely.

  “Because why now?! Why would you, or any of the Divine Family, appear before me now?!” Dora shouted. “Where were you when I was bullied as I child, and I prayed to you nightly? Where were you when I begged to know who my father was? Where were you when my mother died?!”

  Dora broke down sobbing, unable to continue as sadness bled into her anger. Nia merely watched, her eyes sympathetic.

  After what felt like an hour to the half-orc her tears finally dried up and she lay in the endless whiteness drained and weak. She flinched when Nia approached and sat down next to her but did nothing when it became clear the goddess was not interested in anything other than sitting quietly.

  For a long time, the pair floated through the emptiness, silent and absorbed in their own thoughts.

  “Would you like me to answer some of your questions, now?” Nia asked, breaking the silence.

  “What answers could you possibly give me that I would want to hear?” Dora demanded petulantly. It was probably a bad idea to talk back to a god, but she was too exhausted to care.

  “I could tell you when you will find love,” the young goddess offered. “I could inform you about the number of children you’ll someday have. If you liked, I could even reveal to you the reason why my family has been so distant to you throughout your life.”

  When none of her offers tempted the half-orc, the youngest daughter of the Divine Family tried a different approach. “I could tell you who your father is.”

  “You know who he is?” Dora asked, sitting upright at this attempt to converse with her.

  “Of course, I do. He and your mother loved each other very much. So much so, that their affection was like a beacon to me,” Nia said with a faint smile. “Such a beautiful love they felt. And they still feel it, even if it has cooled somewhat due to distance and life.”

  “You mean death,” Dora said bitterly. “My mother is dead. She can’t love anyone anymore.”

  “That is not true,” Nia scolded. “Even after entering the afterlife, your mother Irene continues to love you and pray for your safety. She watches over you, even now.”

  “Then why can’t I see her? Why won’t you let me meet her one last time?” the half-orc demanded, clenching her fists. “I almost was able to one night in my dreams, but I was taken away from her before I could!”

  “It is not easy for the living to confront the dead. There are rules regarding such interactions. Someday, perhaps, you will be allowed to do so. But at the moment, you are not ready for it.”

  “Like the Hells I’m not ready!” the Healer cried angrily, shooting to her feet and staring down at the beautiful young woman beside her. “I’ve survived three years in the Cracked Land after enduring fifteen years of coldness and cruelty back in Far Reach. I thwarted the plans of Lord Krave back in Annod Bol and stopped the summoning of one of the Demon Lords! I saved a city from an infestation of zombies! And you dare to claim I am ‘not ready?’”

  “Can you honestly tell me, right now, that if you were allowed to see your mother, you would go to her? You say you are ready. That you are not weak. But if you were to be confronted by Irene, would you not run from her in shame?” Nia asked pointedly. Though she spoke softly, her words were as sharp as they were true, and Dora looked away, unable to dispute the goddess’ claim.

  “Then what about my father?” Dora asked softly, wiping tears from her face. “Can you tell me if he at least still loves my mother?”

  “More than anything,” Nia said softly. “He loves your mother, and he loves you. He would do anything for you both.”

  “Then why…” Dora choked on her question.

  “Why did he leave the two of you?” Nia finished for her. The half-orc nodded weakly.

  “It was not his choice to do so,” the goddess of love said slowly. “But he’d had a chance to leave behind his old life for your mother that he did not take. That caused a rift between them that neither was willing to try and fix. Your mother could not reconcile his choices with what he believed in, and he couldn’t do so because of other obligations and loves.”

  “He loved someone else?” Dora gasped.

  “Not in the sense you’re thinking of,” Nia hastily explained. “There is more than romantic love. Love for friends, love for family, love for ideals and concepts. Many types of love, and all are as equal as any other. Your father was not able to cut off some of the people he loved to be with your mother. He loved her greatly, never think otherwise, but there were other people that relied on him, and he cared for them as well. Could he have split his love and attention? Certainly, but that would have meant your mother accepting his less than noble profession. And she just could not do that.”

  “So, are you saying it was my mother’s fault?” Dora asked, heart swirling with uncertainty and confusion.

  “No, not at all. She was completely justified in hoping the man she loved above all others would do the right thing. When he didn’t, regardless of reasons… she was heartbroken. And it was her love for who he once was, and could have been, that made her leave him,” the silver goddess explained. “She loved your father, even until the day she died. But she also had you to think of, and she made her decision for your sake.”

  Dora looked down at her feet, unable to speak. Nia watched her with a sad look in her eyes.

  “I don’t think I want you to tell me who my father is,” Dora said quietly after a moment.

  “And why is that?” the goddess of love asked.

  “Because I already know who he is,” Dora said. “I’ve known for a while, I just didn’t want to believe it.”

  Nia nodded slowly. She then frowned and stood up, placing her hands on Dora’s shoulders and looking her in the eyes.

  “Find me, Dora. There is so much more I have to tell you. So much more you need to know.”

  “Then tell me now,” Dora demanded, only to quail as the goddess’ glowing eyes stared into her soul.

  “I cannot. I don’t have…” the divine entity was cut off as the whiteness began to fracture and crack, as sickening black ooze began leaking in and staining the purity of the surroundings.

  “Follow the fox, and find Utopia!” Nia shouted at the scared half-orc as more of the region was devoured by the encroaching darkness. “Follow the fox, find Utopia, and you shall find your destiny!”

  “My destiny?!” Dora cried, confused and terrified.

  “You are my lily, Ildora! You are one of three! Find the others! One is purple with a heart of gold! The other is clad in armor to hide his pain! Find them!”

  “Wait…!”

  Dora was cut off as Nia transformed into a pillar of silver fire that burned away the ravenous Void. The divine flames burned her, and the Healer fell, silver and black fighting each other as her vision turned grey.

  She awoke with a start and tumbled over onto her back breathing heavily. Panting, Dora got onto her knees, and stared at the objects that lay on the floor of her tent.

  The cast iron statuette of Naliot had broken some more, the crack wider and deeper than it had been before her trance. She could see the hollow interior of the idol, where she’d hidden some alchemical materials inside a trio of containers. The three tiny ceramic pots were cracked as well and leaking a viscous black substance that radiated evil.

  Dora grimaced, feeling the taint on the tar-like goo. It had corrupted the salves that had been inside, ruining them all. She quickly cast a series of Light magic spells onto the idol and the ooze, purifying them. The inky darkness evaporated into nothingness. Only once she was sure that the Darkness was gone did she stow the ruined objects back in her pack.

  Her necklace with the three charms, however, was shining more beautifully than ever. The items were resplendent and glowing softly.

  Swallowing heavily, Dora picked up the necklace, and after hesitating for a moment, slipped it over her head. The glow that filled the icons of Cynthia and her daughters fa
ded, but she could feel the cool, pleasant warmth of divinity resting within her chest.

  She took a deep breath to steady herself, then stood up, only to wince as she noticed the morning light creeping her tent.

  “Damn it,” Dora swore as the lack of sleep suddenly hit her. She sagged, tired. The visit by Lady Nia had not allowed her any rest that night. And now it was the morning.

  “Today is going to be a bitch,” she grumbled.

  ∞.∞.∞

  Enrai and Ain had both sensed a change in Dora. It had occurred a few days ago, and a few things had drawn their attention to the half-orc. Firstly, she had an air of melancholy that made everyone keep their distance from her. Then, there was the change in her mana. It was silver, now. Gone was the green coloration of her magic. The two experienced magic users both knew that one’s mana color only changed when a person’s soul changed. And there were precious few such alterations to the core of a person that weren’t life changing events.

  Last, but not least, was the fact Dora had started wearing a necklace. It had the symbols of the three female members of the Divine Family hanging from it, which led Ain and Enrai to assume that her change in mood and mana had something to do with a matter of faith.

  The Monk and Spellsword were happy for her, though. Despite the rather depressing mood she projected, she seemed more content and confident than she had been. And as the melancholy wore off, it was replaced by a happy, upbeat mood.

  “She’s finally got her head on straight,” Ain said approvingly as he watched Dora heal one of the Greysliver Caravan workers one evening.

  “Yeah. Glad to see she’s happier, too. All that stress and worry was doing her no favors,” Enrai agreed. He looked around at the rest of the members of the caravan with a contemplative look. “Seems like her new attitude has attracted a few flies, though.”

  Ain tilted his head, acknowledging the fact. “The men do seem more open with her. And less hesitant to get medical help. I suppose her new chipper, upbeat mood has made her seem more friendly and approachable. Good for her.”

  Enrai nodded, but his gaze was not on the majority of the crew, but on Durmod and his right-hand man, Surd. Both of them wore different expressions on their faces as they watched Dora work. Surd had a neutral look as he observed her, as if his fellow half-orc was a puzzle to be solved.

  Durmod, however, had a scowl. That was not exactly an uncommon occurrence, but this particular scowl was particularly cruel. And with the way he was glaring at Dora, Enrai had a bad feeling stirring in his gut.

  “I think we should be on the lookout for Durmod,” Enrai warned Ain under his breath. “He has the look of a man contemplating the best way to commit a crime.”

  “You’re right,” Ain said after taking a discreet glance the orc’s way. “Think we should warn Dora?”

  “I doubt she’ll believe us,” the Qwanese Monk replied. “She’s a bit too trusting in the safety provided by Reed’s influence.”

  The elf snorted at that. “True. How much longer till we reach the border town?”

  “Two days. We’re almost there,” Enrai said. “We’re almost there.”

  “Then it’s most likely Durmod will try something before we reach it,” Ain concluded. “Let’s stay on our toes from now on. Don’t trust anything he does.”

  Enrai nodded firmly. He wasn’t about to let Dora come to harm.

  ∞.∞.∞

  “We’ll reach the border tomorrow morning,” Durmod declared as he glanced up from a map. His men cheered and redoubled their efforts in setting up camp.

  Dora sighed in relief. The days of travel through the Cracked Land were finally at an end, although a tingle of nervousness did work its way into her at the thought of entering the unknown, danger-filled Sprawling Jungle. Already she could see the great emerald behemoth before her.

  Yesterday, the southern horizon had become filled with a steadily expanding line of green. As far as the eye could see, the edge of the jungle spread out, stretching endlessly to the east and west. There was more verdant life just barely within sight than the half-orc had ever seen in her entire life anywhere else!

  The splotchy green line had become more detailed as the caravan drew closer. The ridiculously huge size of some of the trees boggled her mind. Imagining herself wandering beneath the canopy brought shivers of primal fear to her soul.

  “We made it,” Dora said with a relieved sigh as she continued to stare at the endless strip of green. Any worries she had about the jungle were shoved aside as she realized she was halfway to Argyne, and one step closer to saving the Menagerie.

  “We sure did!” Enrai said cheerfully, wandering over to join her. His smile froze and became brittle as he gazed at the jungle.

  “That is a lot of trees,” the Qwanese Monk murmured. “And I can already feel the humidity from here. Gods, this is going to be unpleasant.”

  “Normally I’d tell you to suck it up, but I completely agree on that point,” Ain said as he finished driving the tent stakes into the ground. “Elves were not made with sweltering heat and humidity in mind. We’re more of a temperate people, thank you very much.”

  Dora snorted at their complaints. “I’ve survived three years in the Cracked Land, so I think I can put up with a week or two of traversing the Sprawling Jungle.”

  “You may say that now, but you’ll sing a different tune when you step inside of it,” a smooth voice called out. The trio turned to see Surd saunter over, a tiny grin on his face.

  “You’re used to dry heat, Miss Dora. In the Sprawling Jungle, you’ll be forced to deal with wet heat. Sweat will drip everywhere, blinding you at times. Your clothes will be ruined and your bodies will be sticky. Oh, the jungle is a different beast to tame all together.”

  “Almost sounds like you’re worried about us,” Dora said with a teasing grin. Surd shrugged his shoulder laconically.

  “Maybe I am. You’ve grown on me, Dora. A bit like a fungus, in fact,” the male half-orc said with a laugh. “Your Healing magic was most hopeful on this trip. It’ll be a shame to see you go.”

  Dora hummed at that, pleased at the praise, if not the comparison to fungi. “Happy to help. And who knows? Maybe the next time we meet, Scarrot and Holt will give you a discount on my healing services.”

  To her surprise, a faint grimace creased Surd’s face when she mentioned the two bosses of the Yellowmoon Menagerie. It was immediately wiped away and replaced by his usual smirk, but Dora couldn’t understand why it had appeared in the first place.

  “Well, dinner will be ready shortly,” Surd said, gesturing behind himself towards the campfire. “We wanted to do something special to celebrate your departure, but Durmod declined. Something about wasting supplies?”

  Dora chuckled at that, shaking her head in disbelief as Surd walked away. Durmod was stingy when it came to accommodating the three of them. He’d even made Enrai buy a new tent from the caravan’s surplus instead of letting the Monk borrow one for the rest of the trip.

  Ridiculous. But, he was the boss. He’d probably throw a party for the men once Dora, Ain, and Enrai were gone.

  “Ready for one last meal on the road?” Dora asked her friends.

  “I could eat. Definitely looking forward to eating something more than dry rations and mediocre reheated stuff, though,” Enrai said with a far-off look as he imagined the real food the town might serve. “What sort of cuisine does the Sprawling Jungle even have, come to think of it?”

  Dora opened her mouth to reply but faltered as she realized that was one of the things she hadn’t bothered to find out while hunting for information.

  “Um, probably a lot of meat dishes?” she said lamely, giving her friend a helpless shrug. “I don’t know, actually. Finding that out sort of slipped my mind.”

  Enrai winced but rallied quickly. “At this point I’d even eat bugs if they were fresh! I can still taste the bland dryness of those hardtack crackers from breakfast, you know? Going to need several mouthfuls of water to w
ash that taste out.”

  Dora chuckled in agreement and walked over to the campfire. Ain was silent, as usual, but there was a hint of wariness in his body as he approached the area where the cooks were preparing a thick stew. Enrai noticed his friend’s tension and leaned over.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Just a bad feeling,” the elf replied, brushing a lank strand of blond hair out of his face. The Monk frowned, and tried to detect signs that something was amiss. At first, everything seemed ordinary. Same stew, bread, and salted pork as every night, same men doing the cooking, same crew cleaning and tending to the wagons and cages.

  Enrai blinked in confusion, and discreetly shot the men working on the transports a look. Keeping the wagons clean and in good condition made sense. Lots of grime accumulated after a hard day’s ride. But this was the first time he’d seen the Greysliver Caravan workers tending to the slave cages since the rainstorm.

  “Probably just getting them ready for tomorrow,” Enrai said slowly to Ain. “Dora did say they’d be purchasing slaves at the border town after selling their salt and other merchandise.”

  “Hmm,” the Spellsword hummed, his tone still suspicious. Seeing how unconvinced the Grand Elf was, Enrai took another look around the area, trying to spot anything to confirm or disprove Ain’s worries.

  “I guess the mood is a touch melancholic,” Enrai suggested as he looked at the humans, orcs, and half-orcs of the Greysliver Caravan going about their tasks. “Maybe they are all sad to see Dora leave? I mean, why wouldn’t they be, she’s a beautiful Healer. Caravans are pretty much sausage fests at the best of times.”

  “‘Sausage fest?’” Ain repeated, his doubts temporarily put on hold as he processed what Enrai had said. “Where did you hear that term?”

  “Oh, one of the guys here mentioned it. Um, I think it’s an Orrian saying? From Varia, if I’m not mistaken,” the Monk replied with a tilt of his head.

  Ain shook his head to dispel the unwelcome image the crude saying brought to mind. “Look, forget that. I’m just saying I feel worried for some reason. My gut is talking to me.”