The Chained Maiden: Bound by Hope

by Ian Rodgers

  ‘It could be worse,’ she mused. ‘I could have not brought any clothing with cooling effects with me.’ That was little comfort, sadly, as she felt sweat trickle down her back and slither into her pants. She shivered in disgust.

  “Why is everything so damp?!” Enrai cried, viciously punching a tree out of his way.

  “We did endure a rainstorm on the way here. Maybe it passed through this area as well?” Ain suggested, the tips of his ears hanging limply in the wet heat they trawled through.

  “Nah, that’s not it at all,” Tarn, their smug guide who watched their suffering with clear amusement, claimed. “We don’t get rainstorms in the jungle till the monsoons in spring and fall arrive. Sprinkles and sun showers, but nothing big. This is all natural.”

  “I can see now why Scarrot chose not to return to this place. After living in the dryness of the Cracked Land, he wouldn’t want to come back to this wet, hot mess,” Dora retorted. Tarn only laughed, before pointing out a thick, green vine that was coiled up on a tree nearby.

  “Do you see that? That’s a Vine Snake! They disguise themselves as a length of vine using natural camouflage, and occasionally a bit of Illusion magic if they’re old and smart enough. Don’t stand under that tree, or the Vine Snake will descend and strangle you to death before eating you,” he warned, his humorous tone switching instantly to one that was dead serious.

  Dora, Enrai, and Ain all nodded and stared close at the danger he had pointed out. Despite his jovial demeanor, Tarn had proven he knew his stuff when it came to navigating the depths of the jungle. Not to mention, he often gave out helpful pointers, tips, and warnings whenever they passed by something dangerous.

  A patch of seemingly innocent ground had been revealed to be quicksand, and a collection of scratches and trampled branches and roots along the path had been revealed to be the telltale signs of a group of elephants passing by.

  It had only been a few hours since the group had entered the lush yet sweltering jungle, but Tarn had shown his worth several times. Dora wasn’t regretting the gold and pearls they’d paid for his services.

  Enrai, on the other hand, wasn’t so impressed. “That’s, what, the fourth dangerous thing pretending not to be? This is ridiculous!”

  The Monk stomped over to the tree Tarn had indicated and, with a hand covered in flames, lashed out and grabbed the ‘vine.’ It screeched and began to twist and writhe, uncoiling from the branch it’d lain on to reveal a fourteen-foot-long emerald snake with a mouth large enough to swallow Enrai’s entire head.

  Of course, the serpent didn’t get a chance to do so, as the superheated palm of the Monk cleaved right through its scales, cutting it in half. The two separate pieces of the Vine Snake collapsed to the jungle floor, both ends writhing and squirming in pain as it died.

  Tarn had a furious look on his face as Enrai walked back to the group. “What the Hells did you do?!”

  “I removed the threat,” he shot back simply.

  “It wasn’t a threat to any of us because I told you it was there! You cannot go around killing things in here if they aren’t attacking!”

  “Enrai, he’s right,” Dora stated firmly, looking at the Monk in disappointment. “You shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t causing any harm.”

  He clicked his tongue in annoyance and looked towards Ain to back him up, but the Grand Elf shook his head. “No, I agree with Tarn and Dora. You should’ve known better than to let your anger do the talking for you. Calm yourself before you set this jungle on fire, or draw the attention of something that can fight back.”

  Enrai gave all of them an angry look with his arms folded, but when none relented, his grumbled and turned away, simmering in annoyance.

  “The heat is getting to him,” Tarn said under his breath to Dora.

  “Then we need to cool him down,” the Healer replied. “Do you think we should force him to drink some water?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant,” the grey-haired, dark green orc replied. “The Sprawling Jungle is swimming in magic. You know how the Cracked Land used to be a lush prairie before the Great Calamity?”

  “Yes, it was the home of the now extinct Centaur people,” Dora replied, confused as to what he was getting at.

  “Well, the Cracked Land wasn’t the only place to be affected. The Sprawling Jungle too was changed slightly. It’s not quite alive, but the jungle doesn’t like it when people do too much harm to it. Poachers and loggers who don’t respect the wildlife are attacked by the flora and fauna. Animals will change their migratory patterns to trample intruders. Monsters that should be hibernating wake up for killing sprees for no apparent reason. Not to mention, there’s something in the Ambient Mana that drives people with Fire element magic a bit crazy. We call it ‘Jungle Fever,’” Tarn cautioned. “Do something for your semi-bald friend, and soon, or we’ll all die.”

  Dora winced at the tone Tarn delivered his warning in but could only nod in agreement. Something had to be done. Ever since stepping into the trees Enrai had become antsy and unable to focus. His mana was fluctuating rapidly as well, as if it was trying to break out of his body.

  If this was the jungle’s doing, it might be hard for her to come up with any kind of solution. Any magic that spawned a third of the Dreadlands was not to be trifled with, and Dora, as good of a Healer as she knew she was, didn’t want to make a bigger mess by playing with powers she didn’t understand.

  But something had to be done for Enrai, so she sucked in a deep breath and approached him.

  “Enrai, are you feeling alright?” Dora began, putting a calming hand on his shoulder. He twitched, then took a shuddering breath to control himself.

  “No, I’m not,” he muttered, clenching his fists. “I feel… well, I feel wrong. My mana is acting up, my temper is frayed, and I feel nauseous.”

  “Um, I can help with the nausea if you’d like?” Dora offered. “But I don’t know what I can do for the other issues.”

  She thought for a moment before grinning. “Wait! Enrai, you’ve said your Monk techniques are based on both Fire and Wind Element magic, correct?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” the Monk agreed, unsure of where she was going with this.

  “Why not just use your Wind magic from now on, and, I don’t know, can you seal away your Fire Element somehow with a secret Qwanese trick or something?” the Healer suggested.

  “As far as I know, there is no ‘secret Qwanese trick’ for permanently sealing away someone’s magical affinity,” Enrai said blandly.

  “Well come up with one on your own, or I’ll do something dangerous and unethical and seal your magic away myself!” Dora threatened, giving the bald foreigner a dangerous glare.

  He swallowed nervously and immediately closed his eyes and settled into a meditation stance right then and there. With her hand still on his shoulder, she could feel his mana bubbling and flowing within him.

  It was quite fascinating to observe, especially when the hot and wild mana was slowly pushed back and supplanted by a more breezy and cool mana. Fire battled against Wind inside Enrai’s body, but the Wind eventually succeeded, isolating and driving his own magic into a corner of his soul where it wouldn’t be able to act out and influence him.

  Enrai’s eyes popped open with a gasp, and he doubled over, sweating profusely and coughing up puffs of black smoke. “That hurt… oh Gods, please never make me do that again…”

  “Are you okay? What did you do?” Dora demanded, quickly casting a few Healing spells onto him, easing his pain and his coughing fit.

  “I, *cough!* I used a meditation technique Monks use to gain their secondary affinity, only modified slightly,” Enrai explained after almost hacking up a lung. “The Phoenix School teaches Fire and Wind spells and abilities, but not everyone is born with both Elements, usually only one of them. As such, to fully master the School’s techniques, students need to find a way to gain a secondary affinity.”

  “That sounds dangerous,” Dora commented as
she healed him, palms glowing silver as they cleared his lungs and chest of a disturbing amount of smoke.

  “It can be,” the Monk admitted. “Anyways, I simply used that meditation trick, only in reverse. I temporarily put my mana in a back room, so to speak. Right now, I can only use Wind magic. But if I don’t let out my Fire mana every so often, I could spontaneously combust. Magic isn’t meant to be restrained like this.”

  “You know, I was just going to suggest that I put an Anti-Magic barrier over you or something to suppress your mana!” Dora stated, shaking her head at Enrai’s foolishness. “That would have been much safer!”

  “Oh. Oh, yeah, that would have worked too,” the Monk said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I guess I wasn’t thinking straight, huh?”

  “Good work, girlie. Baldy’s Jungle Fever has subsided,” Tarn said approvingly, walking over now that it was safe to do so.

  “Girlie? Baldy? What’s with the nicknames?” Dora asked, confused and slightly indignant.

  “I give all my customers a nickname. If they’ve proven themselves to be worthy, that is,” the elderly orc said with a wink. He then glanced over at Ain with a sniff of disdain. “Don’t expect one for yourself quite yet, elf. You haven’t impressed me yet.”

  “Oh, no, how ever will I cope?” Ain replied, utterly deadpan.

  “Well, anyways, glad to see you got the magic under control. The jungle should settle down soon since he’s not trying to hurt it anymore,” Tarn declared, looking around with a relieved look on his face.

  Dora could sense anything different about her surroundings, but trusted Tarn’s word. Their little misadventure now over, though, Dora looked towards their guide for instructions.

  “Where to now?”

  “Follow me, there’s a clearing a few hours from here that’s a perfect spot to spend the night. We should make it before dusk at the pace we’ve been keeping,” Tarn declared after checking the area they were in. “We’ve made decent time. Usually, the people I escort are either merchant troupes or completely unprepared suckers. You three actually know what you’re doing when you travel, which is nice for a change.”

  “And from the clearing, how much further is it to the Kolwine River?” Ain inquired.

  “About a week,” Tarn replied shortly.

  “Hopefully the river will cool things down when we get there,” Dora said with a wistful sigh.

  At that, their guide began to cackle. Dora, Enrai, and Ain shared a worried look. Tarn’s laughter didn’t bode well for any of them.

  ∞.∞.∞

  “Up the tree! Quick, quick, quick!” Tarn shouted, urging the trio along as he clambered higher into the branches of the large tree. Dora followed him but was unable to climb as high as he’d gone.

  Enrai and Ain had better luck, managing to crawling up the side of the tree with little difficulty, and helped Dora up when she nearly slipped.

  “Why are we hiding, again? Couldn’t we just punch it? Make it go away with a bit of violence?” Enrai asked, annoyed at having to take another detour to hide from a beast.

  “Fighting doesn’t solve anything in here! It’s better to leave the monsters and animals alone unless they attack us directly. Or did you forget that lesson? As I recall, we took your ‘advice’ yesterday and punched an Owlbear that was blocking the path, only to draw the attention of a herd of Dire Boar when they heard the commotion. We ran for an hour before they gave up the chase,” Tarn scolded the Monk.

  He snorted but settled down after being scolded. Dora just sighed. Three days in, and Enrai was still not able to control his emotions as well as they’d have liked. The Sprawling Jungle kept inflaming his Fire magic, and, even while suppressed, it managed to influence his emotions.

  He was doing better than the first day in the jungle, though. He didn’t rush ahead and pick fights with every creature they stumbled across. But his suggestion for dealing with them was always ‘punch, and/or kick it.’

  The group’s argument was put on hold when a low growl rippled through the undergrowth. Tarn’s breathing stilled, and everyone else held their breath as a large creature appeared, prowling along the jungle floor. It walked on four legs but would be easily ten feet tall if it chose to stand on its hind legs. It had dark brown fur that blended in well with the jungle trees, but its most unique feature was the black and forest green segmented plates all along its back. The creature was like a bear crossed with an armadillo.

  “An Armored Bear,” Tarn whispered to the group, his eyes never leaving the massive beast as it sniffed the ground. “Their shells can deflect steel weapons, and they’re able to move faster than a galloping horse when they curl up into a ball and roll towards their prey.”

  “Do they eat people?” Dora hissed back, worried as it began to draw closer to their tree, its nose pressed against the dirt as it tracked their scent.

  “They do. That’s why we’re up this tree. If it can’t reach us, it won’t try to bother us, and will leave after a bit,” Tarn cautioned, before making a pinching gesture with his fingers over his lips. Dora nodded back, catching the ‘be quiet!’ gesture.

  Down below, the Armored Bear grunted as it reached the base of the tree where the quartet was hiding. It glared up at the group as they hid in the branches like pieces of fruit made of meat, but after staring at them for a while it grunted and moved on once it realized this batch of prey wasn’t going to come down any time soon.

  Tarn made them wait for a few minutes longer after the Armored Bear was gone from sight. Shimmying down the tree, Dora let out a sigh of relief.

  “That was close!”

  “Hardly. That one was a bit lazier than most Armored Bears I’ve seen. It didn’t even try to stand up and attempt to swat us out of the tree,” Tarn commented.

  “I could have taken it,” Enrai huffed. At this point, though, everyone ignored his boasting.

  “There are a lot more monsters wandering the jungle than I had first expected. Is this normal?” Ain asked, picking some twigs and leaves out of his hair.

  “Yeah, this is fairly typically,” Tarn said. “Just be glad it isn’t mating season. Hoo boy, then you really see the jungle at its most crowded!”

  He then pointed in a direction seemingly at random. “Alright, let’s go this way! I want to avoid running into the Armored Bear if it doubles back any time soon. So, let’s move! We’re burning daylight, here!”

  “You know, I’ve wanted to say this for a while, but you’re ridiculously spry for an old man,” Dora said, partly in praise, mostly in disbelief. Tarn laughed proudly.

  “Why, thank you! Being fit is the key to success! And I don’t plan on dying for another few decades! Death can’t catch me if I run fast enough!”

  Dora laughed along with him, the two enjoying the joke. As they did so, Enrai and Ain couldn’t help but notice how similar to each other the two were.

  “Must be an orc thing,” the Monk muttered, flexing his hands in an effort to distract himself from the Fire within him calling out and begging to be released.

  “I think it’s just a crazy person thing,” Ain said, eyeing the pair suspiciously.

  “Oh. Yeah, that’s probably it,” Enrai agreed. A question sprung to mind and he glanced towards the green skinned duo. “Hey, Tarn, I’ve been meaning to ask, but why is your skin a different shade of green compared to Dora’s or the other orc’s I’ve seen?”

  “It’s because I’m older,” Tarn replied. “An orc’s skin color changes as they grow older. It darkens, going from a pale green to various darker shades, until it’s almost completely black by the age of seventy or so.”

  “Really? But my skin has always been the color of mint,” Dora said, surprised as she looked down at her hands. “I don’t think it’s ever changed its hue.”

  “That’s due to your non-orc parent,” Tarn explained. “A half-orc’s skin tone never changes. It remains the same pale green from birth to death. Many traditional orcs see that as a weakness.”

&
nbsp; He then frowned. “I should probably warn you, you might get insulted or snubbed by some orcs because of this. In our culture, black is the color of wisdom and knowledge. All of the oldest orcs have dark, borderline black, skin, and the tribal elders are traditionally the keepers of history and information. In the past, the oldest orcs were treated as wisemen or -women because of this. Any orc that survived long enough to get black skin were the most revered and seen as the wisest.”

  “And that means that since my skin is the same color as an infant’s, they’ll think less of my intellect,” Dora said morosely, realizing this fact with a grimace.

  “I don’t have those prejudices any more thanks to living among humans and the like on the border of the Cracked Land, but most orcs will see pale skin and treat you… well, not poorly, but with a definite degree of disdain,” their guide said, a hint of apology in his tone.

  “I suppose that’s another thing about my own people I didn’t know,” Dora sighed. She bit her lip before glancing up at Tarn.

  “Can you teach me? About the orcish side of my heritage?”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Tarn said with a smile. A frown overtook his face as he glanced up at the treetops. “But perhaps we should get under cover? I think we might have unpleasant company soon.”

  Confused at first, the trio of travelers strained their ears and heard a low-pitch hum filling the air. Looking around, it looked to be coming from a looming cloud that shifted and roiled as it drifted through the treetops towards them.

  The hum changed in pitch once it got closer to them and started to turn threatening. Tarn quickly ushered the group away from the buzzing cloud.

  “Let’s move. No sudden movement, and no fire! That’s a colony of Needle Mites. The sting from even a single one is incredibly painful, and a dozen or so can knock a man unconscious. Come along, follow me,” the orc said, guiding them away from the angry swarm of insects.

  It did not follow them, content to buzz angrily in warning as they departed. Dora spared it one last glance before they disappeared into the foliage.