The Chained Maiden: Bound by Hope

by Ian Rodgers

  As dusk began to creep up on them, Tarn called off his teaching and started to look around for a place to set up camp.

  “I don’t like the looks of this area. The feel is all wrong,” Tarn growled in annoyance as he rejected yet another seemingly decent spot.

  “What’s the matter with this one?” Dora asked, trying to reign in her own frustrations with the lack of success.

  “These tracks… see how the ground is churned up?”

  “Yes, vaguely,” Dora said after a moment of peering at the ground. The dirt was covered in several long gouges that looked as if something had pulled itself out of the soil rather than scraped its way across it. When she pointed that out, Tarn nodded in agreement.

  “Only one thing comes to mind that could make these tracks. Which are fresh, by the way. No more than a few days. And if that’s the case, I don’t want to sleep on the ground tonight.”

  “We’re going to have to curl up in the treetops again?” Enrai whined.

  Twice before they’d had to forgo setting up their tents on the ground because of some animal, and retreat to the trees for the evening. First had been due to a swarm of ravenous insects. The tide of chitinous death hadn’t scaled the trees but had Dora and her companions been on the ground, not even bones would have remained.

  And the second time was due to a herd of Terrhinos mating. And when giant, green, plant covered rhinoceros mate, everything around them gets trampled.

  “I’d rather not wake up covered in dirt and roots, slowly having my body dissolve into a tasty mulch,” Tarn said drily, causing the Monk to swallow his complaints.

  “Yeah, that sounds pretty nasty,” Enrai said, bowing his head in defeat. Dora giggled and Ain just sighed, before asking the question that was on everyone’s mind.

  “So, what are we dealing with here?”

  “Nomad Trees,” Tarn stated.

  “Really? Is that all?” Enrai asked, confused. “We have those in Qwan. They’re not dangerous at all!”

  “There are different species of Nomad Trees,” the white-haired orc scolded. “See, the Sprawling Jungle has a large number of Bloody Nomad Trees. They strangle their prey with their roots and branches, bury them under the dirt, and turn them into fertilizer over the course of days, slowing sucking up the nutrients from the pulped remains.”

  Enrai gagged at the mental image Tarn had brought up, while Ain and Dora both winced and scaled the trees Tarn directed them to without another word. The Monk joined them a few seconds later, silently and obediently laying his sleeping bag out in the crook of some branches.

  “Looks like cold rations for dinner,” Dora said with a disappointed sigh. Tarn scampered up a tree nearby with a chuckle.

  “At least they’re dry. Soggy and moldy food is most unpleasant.”

  The group dug out their individual ration packs and began to eat quietly, unwilling to make much noise as the dusk settled around them.

  ∞.∞.∞

  “You’re so close,” a heavenly voice called out to her. “Reach, Dora! Find them! The fox and Utopia! Purple and armored!”

  The half-orc tried to find the source of the voice, but all around her was silver.

  “Lady Nia, where are you?” Dora cried out, confused and scared.

  “I am here, Dora. But you must find them! Find your brothers-in-arms! Find the other two! Uncover the tools to your victory!”

  “Why me?” she wept as the divine being called out to her. “Why me?”

  The silver glowed brightly, then began to fade. There was no answer to her question as the darkness claimed the light.

  Dora woke, blinking her eyes in confusion, then a groan. It was dark out, with only a tiny sliver of the moon above illuminating the jungle.

  “Another dream,” Dora muttered to herself in annoyance, shifting onto her side so the tender beam of moonlight wasn’t on her face.

  She stared into the darkness, before blinking, confused. At first, she thought it was tiredness that was making her see things that made no sense. But then the vision persisted, and the Healer was forced to accept that what she saw was, in fact, real.

  Trees. Dozens of them, crawling across the ground in front of her. Some of them passed by so close she could have reached out and touched the blood red leaves on their swaying branches.

  She didn’t, because the half-orc was not stupid. Even if she’d never seen one before, she’d heard the tales as well as Tarn and Enrai’s testimonies about these strange plants, these Nomad Trees. Able to move as if they were alive, Nomad Trees wandered around aimlessly, sucking up water and soaking in sunlight. Most were harmless. But not these particular ones. They were Bloody Nomad Trees, which made their own mulch and fertilizer by killing animals. Their branches and roots moved like tentacles, and they were big, solid trees which required equally big and strong weapons to fell.

  The Nomad Trees were passing by the tree Dora was resting in. She watched, mesmerized, as the strange red leafed and black barked plants moved silently through the jungle, the only sound being a soft rustling as their leaves shook and their roots crunched through dirt. They moved seamlessly and smoothly through the thick jungle, somehow slipping between other trees with nary a sound. It was astonishing to watch.

  A few minutes later and the parade of Bloody Nomad Trees passed and vanished into the depths of the Sprawling Jungle. Dora lay there for a while longer, staring after them.

  “Quite the sight, eh?”

  Dora jerked a bit in shock and turned a scathing glare at Tarn for startling her, who was also awake on the tree across from her. The older orc smirked back, before turning his gaze back into the jungle.

  “The Sprawling Jungle holds many a wonder, and many more terrors. Can’t say I’d want to live anywhere else. This is my home. Always has been, always will be.” Tarn frowned at Dora. “Can you feel it? The call of the jungle?”

  For a while Dora lay there in the branches, wrapped in her sleeping bag. She tried to feel something. There wasn’t any tug, nor sense of longing to stay. She felt nothing special for the ancient and magical jungle. Finally, she shook her head.

  “I see,” Tarn said with a sad sigh. He then shrugged. “Well, I suppose that means your soul is meant to find its home elsewhere. Scarrot did. Or at least, I hope he found a home after he left. Sometimes you have to go where your heart and soul tell you to go. Ever feel that way?”

  “Yes,” Dora whispered back. “I feel like that. Have done so for a while.”

  Nia wanted her to do something. A task that would take her far beyond the borders of what she knew. But she was scared. Could she do it? And why her?

  Tarn shot her a pitying look, sensing the turmoil within her. He said nothing, though, and closed his eyes to get some more sleep. Dora did so as well after a bit more pondering, and was glad when her dreams were devoid of silver.

  Chapter 18: Savages

  “We’ll be skirting the wild orcs’ territory for the next two days,” Tarn revealed the next day to the travelers. “After that, we’ll be on a straight shot to Argyne.”

  The quartet was leaning against the trees they had slept in and were eating a quick and bland breakfast. They were ready for what their guide had warned would be the most dangerous leg of their trek.

  “Orcs are not as predictable as monsters, and that makes them far more deadly,” Tarn warned them again. “We cannot afford to antagonize any tribes out here, either, so if you spot a scout, alert me. If they don’t approach us, leave them be. Only if they come at us with intentions to harm should you fight back.”

  Tarn then tapped his chin as he looked at Ain. “Spicy, think you can wrap something around your head for the next two days? It’d be best to hide your ears while we’re in this neck of the woods.”

  “I can do so,” Ain agreed, and proceeded to wrap a strip of gauze around his head so that the bandages covered the pointed tips of his ears. The white-haired orc nodded in approval before looking over his supplies and the map one last time.

&
nbsp; As Dora waited for them to finish up, the half-orc chewed lazily on a piece of dried jerky while observing the jungle. It was quiet, only a few morning birds and rodents making any noise this early.

  As she watched her surroundings, a flash of color in the underbrush caught her attention. It had snagged her attention because it was not at all like the browns and greens that had been her constant companion throughout the jungle. It had been reddish. And it was moving.

  Bending down towards the bush where she’d seen the color she held her breath as a beautiful red snake poked its head out of the greenery and stared up at her.

  Calling the snake ‘red’ was not doing the reptile any justice. It was a rich yet soft red, the color of pomegranate, and the scales even looked like pomegranate seeds! Eyes the color of wine stared up at Dora, and she stared back. The creature was one of the most beautiful animals she’d seen since entering the jungle. Even in the Cracked Land she hadn’t encountered any beasts with such vibrant and exotic appearances like this snake before her.

  Slowly, all the while keeping her eyes locked onto the snake’s, she held out the half-chewed piece of jerky to the creature. It licked the air with its tongue, then leaned forward and delicately bit the dried meat and pulled it from Dora’s fingers.

  The Healer smiled fondly as the snake swallowed the meat and hissed contentedly. She giggled as it rubbed its head against her wrist.

  “Girlie… back away slowly…” she suddenly heard Tarn whispered at her, and she gave him a confused look, which only grew more so as she spotted the terrified expression on his face.

  “Why?”

  “That is a Serpent of Aril, one of the most dangerous creatures within the Sprawling Jungle,” Tarn said slowly, never taking his terrified gaze off of the pinkish-red snake.

  Dora tilted her head at that, and the snake copied her movement.

  “Um, how? It’s not that big, or scary looking.” She turned to the tiny snake and stroked its head with a single finger. “He’s rather cute, actually!”

  “Just trust me on this, Girlie,” Tarn pleaded. “Step back, and let it go on its merry way!”

  The half-orc frowned, first at Tarn, then at the cute snake in the bush. It didn’t seem dangerous, but the guide hadn’t let them down yet.

  Unfortunately, the Serpent of Aril decided it didn’t want to leave its new friend, and faster than anyone could blink, had slithered up Dora’s still outstretched arm before draping itself over her shoulders like a scaly scarf.

  “Um, I don’t think it wants to leave,” Dora said with an awkward laugh. Tarn just stared at her in disbelief before shaking his head.

  “Oh, for the love of Grendal!” the Yellowmoon tribesman cried to the heavens. He then folded his arms and stared at the pinkish-red snake. It stared back. After a moment of trying to out-stare the serpent he heaved a sigh of defeat and turned away.

  “It looks like it’s here to stay for now,” Tarn said in despair. “Girlie, it’s your job to feed it and keep it away from the rest of us until it decides to slither off.”

  “Can you please explain what makes that snake so dangerous?” Enrai demanded, confused and bewildered by the old orc’s terrified reaction towards the creature. Ain nodded in agreement, also curious.

  “I’ll talk as we walk,” Tarn said, pushing off into the trees. The trio quickly jogged after him, not wanting to be left behind.

  Once they’d been walking for ten minutes Tarn revealed what he knew about the Serpent of Aril.

  “You have some bizarre luck, Girlie,” Tarn said with a morbid chuckle. “A Serpent of Aril is a rare breed of snake. And the most dangerous in all the Sprawling Jungle. Not for its size though, but for its venom!”

  “Ah, it’s a toxic snake,” Dora said, nodding in understanding. “Don’t worry, I know how to treat and cure poison.”

  “Not this kind! A Serpent of Aril’s venom is nothing like anything you’ve ever encountered! It doesn’t kill you. Instead, it drives you mad!” Tarn warned, staying at least five feet from the snake wrapped around Dora’s shoulders.

  “It’s damned dangerous! First, the venom makes you hallucinate. Victims see weird shapes and things that aren’t there. Then, they start to hear phantom sounds, feel phantom pains, smell phantom smells!” the white-haired orc cried. “After two to three days of this, the victim starts to forget things, and lose control of their emotions. One week after being bitten by a Serpent of Aril, the poor sap is either a frothing berserker attacking everything they see, or a drooling, brain-dead coma victim.”

  The trio all winced. “Ergh, that sounds awful!” Dora exclaimed. “And this little guy is the cause of all that?”

  “Damn straight!” Tarn stated firmly. “And the problem is, unless you have a Toadstone to counteract the poison, no antidote or spell on Erafore can save a bite victim from a Serpent of Aril’s venom!”

  Dora gasped, while Ain and Enrai shared a concerned look with each other, and then took a few steps away from the half-orc and her new serpentine companion.

  “A Toadstone,” the Healer muttered to herself in worry. “Those are only found in the brains of Dire Toads and rare breeds of magical amphibians. They’re the ultimate panacea for curing toxins used by reptiles and amphibians, even magical ones.”

  “Yup. See why they’re so dangerous now?” Tarn scolded.

  “But he seems harmless and friendly,” Dora mused, stroking the snake’s head fondly.

  “Oh, they are. That’s the problem. Nicest creature in all the jungle,” the guide complained. “The accursed critters are just so Grendal-damned curious! If they see something that interests them, they’ll approach it without hesitation. But if threatened or startled by their object of interest then they start to bite. And there is nothing alive that is immune to their Madness Venom. Even dragons and Urdrai are susceptible.”

  “Their fangs can pierce dragon scales?!” Ain gasped, shocked.

  “Oh, most definitely. Insanely sharp teeth filled with untreatable insanity sauce. A winning combination,” Tarn deadpanned.

  “So, what you’re saying is that this cute little guy and his friends only bite people when they’re scared,” Dora said, continuing to pet the Serpent of Aril. It hissed happily at her touch.

  “Well, yes, I suppose that is the gist of what I’m warning you about…”

  “Then it’s simple! I just have to make it doesn’t get scared and everything will be fine!” Dora declared proudly.

  Tarn slapped his forehead in exasperation. “You know, I really can’t bring myself to care anymore. Just… do what you want. But when it bites you, please don’t expect a refund.”

  “Um, she’d be dead if she gets bitten, why would she want a refund?” Ain wondered.

  “You’d be surprised,” the orc said. “I was guiding another group through the jungle a few years back and one of them angered an Impaler. As its name implies, it impaled the poor sap through the stomach and left him for dead after we drove it off. And the fool demanded I refund him the money he’d paid me! While he was dying!”

  “We managed to patch him up and save his life, but he kept demanding I give him a refund even when it was his stupidity that got him hurt in the first place! Honestly, every year I escort one group that is completely out of its mind.”

  “Do we have the honor of being this year’s craziest group?” Enrai asked hopefully.

  “It’s not something to be proud of, Baldy!” Tarn shouted at the Monk. “But yes, so far Girlie’s little stunt has put her at the top of the list for this year. It’ll probably take someone bathing in Piranha Pond while covered in succulent gravy to top it.”

  “Is that…” Dora began, only to be cut off by Tarn’s scowl.

  “Yes. Yes, it is something that could happen. Because it already did.”

  The rest of the walk continued on in disturbed silence.

  ∞.∞.∞

  Much to Tarn’s disbelief, the Serpent of Aril caused no problems at all the entire day. It didn’t ev
en do anything at night, choosing to cuddle up with Dora in her sleeping bag for warmth. The old orc was disappointed the pinkish-red snake hadn’t decided to leave them alone during the night, but he was content to let Dora handle it while he stayed as far away as politely and reasonably possible.

  “Come on, I promise he won’t hurt you!” Dora said, trying to convince Tarn to pet the snake.

  “No! They can smell fear, and I am basting in that emotion!” Tarn retorted.

  “Why do we always think that animals like it when they smell our terror? I’d think fear would make meat taste kind of bad,” Enrai said, scratching his head in thought.

  “I agree, fear makes meat stringy and hard. Predators prefer happy prey,” Ain added.

  “You two are not helping!” Dora scolded, before stroking the Serpent of Aril’s head. “There, there, those loud sillies sure are weird, huh?”

  The pinkish-red snake hissed, seemingly in agreement, and Dora smirked. “Ha! See?”

  “Quiet!” Tarn sudden shushed the group, and they paused mid-step.

  “What is it?” Ain asked, straining his ears. The cloth he’d wrapped around his head muffled the sounds around him, rendering his hearing no better than that of a human. He still tried, however.

  “We have company,” the guide said slowly. Dora blinked and looked around the jungle. She couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but now that Tarn had spoken up, she realized the area was strangely silent.

  Enrai and Ain came to the same conclusion a moment later and tensed up, the former clenching his fist while the latter went for his saber, resting his palm on the hilt but not drawing it.

  Tarn barked out something in the orcish language, and at first Dora thought he was talking to her, but that idea proved to be false when over a dozen orcs in warpaint melted out of the jungle’s shadows. They clutched wooden and stone weapons, mostly clubs and crude spears, though a few carried looted steel weapons like axes and swords.