The Power Within: The Chronicles of Hollyglade Wayrender

by Steve Barker

  “Where are we going?” she inquired bitterly, hoping that she may learn something that may help her escape, or at least know what to expect.

  “Ah, she speaks!” exclaimed the bounty hunter. “So nice that you and I shall be able to share some conversation on our journey. Well, to answer your question, we head for the capital. You are to be delivered by tomorrow evening, at the latest, though I would prefer to make it there by this evening, or sometime in the night, if I can keep these beasts moving at this pace.”

  Hollyglade opened her perception to the horses, gently prodding their minds for an indication of their level of fatigue and stamina. They were tired, and a sense of frustration with their unfamiliar driver was at the forefront of their minds. Hollyglade began to open her mouth to say something about giving them rest, but thought better of it. Letting on that she had that particular gift may prevent her from gaining some advantage later, though she lamented not being able to do something to aide the animals.

  “To whom are you contracted to deliver me?” she asked, hoping to gain some knowledge she might be able to use to get away, or at least defend herself from whatever awaited her.

  “Ah, that I can not reveal.” replied the bounty hunter apologetically. “But let me assure you, it is with the blessing of the King, that the contract was made. You should be comforted by the fact that your presence at the capital shall serve a greater purpose. Or so I am told.”

  His tone and demeanor exuded self satisfaction, and though she could not see his face, Hollyglade could hear the disconcerting smile cemented there.

  “Tell me girl, what is your name? In all this time, and after all the trouble I have gone through looking for you, no one has been able to tell me your name.”

  Her initial reaction was to spit out her name at him, but she stopped short of doing so when she recalled how agitated he had become at dGerrie’s refusal to answer his questions.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she grunted, determined not to satisfy him in any way.

  “Oh, but it does, my dear. In polite conversation it is expected that one should introduce one’s self to the person one plans on conversing with. You must tell me your name, for I wish to properly address you.”

  “I have no plans to converse with you politely. Therefore you do not need my name. And, if you aren’t willing to answer my questions, why should I answer yours?” she retorted.

  “My dear girl, I did not say that I would not tell you who desires your presence, but that I could not tell you. My contract forbids it, and I never break the terms of a contract. Shall I just call you by what you have been nicknamed by some of my men? I do not find the terms flattering, but I must address you somehow.”

  “I do not particularly care, but I’m curious what name they utter.” Her curiosity was based solely on finding out whether or not she had been successful in convincing them that she was dangerous. She did not feel like a dangerous person, or that there was anything about her, besides her hidden power, to be feared, but the illusion could come in handy again.

  “Well, you may not like what name came out of their stammering. I believe it was something along the lines of giant elvish fire-haired naked devil, and I believe also you were referred to as The Red Witch. That first title seems a bit long. It does not roll off the tongue very well, however the Red Witch sounds rather catching, don’t you think?” He asked, with a playful grin.

  She did her best to hide her expression as she heard the names. It gave her a small amount of pleasure to hear that her bluff, designed to cause the necessary dread to allow her to effectively interrogate his men, had worked to such effect.

  “Well, they are certainly descriptive,” she replied with a hint of sass.

  “Yes. I was very intrigued by their account of you in the night. Tell me, was it true that you managed to get the better of both of them while naked? And you must tell me what magic you used, if any, for I wager that you used none.”

  “What makes you think I used no magic?”

  “You must answer my question first, my dear, for it is rude to redirect a conversation without answering a question posed to you.”

  She hesitated, but decided this was not the issue to evade him on.

  “Well, if you must know…”

  “I must.”

  “Your men were lazy, and like you, cowards. I let them fall to sleep in their own time, and then simply smacked them on their fat ugly heads.”

  “Tisk tisk, my dear witch. It is impolite to call someone a coward in polite conversation.”

  “It describes you aptly, does it not? Your unwillingness to fight dGerrie demonstrated as much. Anyway, what happened to the two of them? I left them partially naked, but well enough.”

  Looking up at him over her shoulder, she could see enough of the side of his face to perceive a slight waver in the smile he so proudly tried to maintain.

  “Well, dear girl, I had to teach them a lesson about keeping their guard up, and not allowing teenaged girls to get the better of them. They failed the lesson, and thus, I relieved them of their duties. As to the your suggestion that I acted cowardly, my dear witch, my act was not one of cowardice, but one designed for your preservation.

  “My contract stated clearly that I must retrieve and deliver you intact and unharmed. It was evident that any further prolongation of the altercation in the street would likely have resulted in you suffering greater harm. Thus, my decision to shoot my traitorous employee was one of mercy.”

  She fought to contain the mixture of remorse for dGerrie, whom she had tried to preserve, and was now sure she must add to the growing list of people who had died at this man’s hand, and anger at this man for his part in their demise. She wanted so badly to tear free of her restraints and fight this bounty hunter, even if she couldn’t see any way in which she might be able to get the better of him. Her outrage and grief both swelled, and combined with her dizziness and nausea, to overwhelm her faculties. She took a deep breath to try to centre herself and regain her mental balance. After a moment, she continued to try to dig into his thinking, hoping to expose something useful.

  “Interesting.” she replied, bitingly. “Perhaps your reputation is somewhat inflated. The notoriety that precedes you is of uncompromising efficiency and effectiveness, but also that you leave a trail of blood. I imagine that you encourage the dissemination of this fallacy to inspire fear, and therefore encourage capitulation from those you target for capture or interrogation. That reputation really needs updating to include ‘runs from a fight when he’s not the clearly superior combatant,’ and also, ‘leaves a trail of the blood, but only of the helpless and innocent’” She made her suggestions with a thick helping of mocking sarcasm.

  “My dear Red Witch, you speak with a wonderful eloquence, one I quite enjoy, yet rather over-confidently for someone tied up in the back of a wagon. You speak quite assuredly of yourself for someone who was unable to evade the capture of the one she now attempts to provoke. I assure you, I am quite comfortable with the accuracy, and effectiveness of my reputation. It is your small reputation that may need updating. For I am convinced that you are no witch, for if you were, you would have used some form of magic to either prevent your capture, or facilitate your escape, neither of which you have accomplished, let alone attempted.

  “No, I believe that if you have any magical capabilities at all, you are unschooled in their use, and therefore no threat. So, let us dispense with the barbed jabs at each other’s reputation, and simply enjoy some enlightening conversation. Please, tell me when it was that you and Mr. Theurbeault realized that you knew each other.”

  A great deal of her wanted to show him just how much power she had, to blast him into oblivion in a triumphantly vengeant outpouring of power. She could not let herself slip down that path, and add more weight to the already unbearable burden of lost life she carried, knowing that such vengeance would most certainly not be restricted to this one man. She considered giving in to his prodding, and telling him tha
t it was only when they came face to face in the stables in Greenfield that her friend had turned from pursuer to rescuer, but decided to stay the course, dGerrie’s course, of denying him his desire.

  “Why does it interest you so much?” she deflected “You killed him. You are done with the chase, a chase that he managed to end by simply asking the right questions, by the way. Why bother with what’s behind you?”

  “Ah, a good couple of questions. I’ll concede, and tell you the reason my curiosity piques so, in regards to Mr.Theurbeault’s betrayal. As a bounty hunter, it is the main focus of my trade to capture fugitives from justice. Often, the fugitives whose contracts for capture are offered to me have some skill and intelligence, for most of the simpler minded outlaws are caught by the army, garrison, or some less accomplished bounty hunter. When your line of work involves catching intelligent fugitives, it is helpful to have an understanding of the mind of those you seek to apprehend.

  “Though Mr. Theurbeault was not the fugitive I was contracted to catch, he put himself in that category when he sided with my prey. So being able to compare the observations I made of him during the time he appeared to remain faithful in his service, with the inner thoughts he harboured that lead to his duplicity, would serve to be educational. The profit from one’s continuing education can never be overvalued. And therefore, my dear Red Witch, I politely ask that you tell me what you know of his thinking, if only to pass the time. And if the conversation manages to facilitate your grieving for him, I encourage it, as I endorse such motivation.”

  He was almost convincing, and she was almost convinced. She was starting to feel the pain in the back of her head, along with the nausea and dizziness, increase again, and decided that dragging out this annular verbal sparring match was becoming taxing. So she lied.

  “I don’t know. He didn’t tell me when it was that he decided that he would rescue me instead of capture me. There wasn’t time to discuss it. You heard as much about it as I did, before you got cold feet and realized you were no match for him with a blade.”

  “Well, that is disappointing. I suppose your bounty will have to be my consolation.” The bounty hunter sighed, and reached into a bag, pulling out a strip of dried beef and offered it to Hollyglade. “You’ll need to eat, if you’re going to expect to have any salubrity about you when I deliver you.”

  She took the food hesitantly, still feeling nauseated, but began to eat it after convincing herself that the benefits it would lend to her haleness would outweigh the unknown value of the annoyance her refusal might provoke.

  “Maybe there is something else you will tell me,” he continued. “Another rumour about you is that you are a survivor of the Great Destruction. That you were found near its centre, only days after the event, by a farmer travelling to the capital. Is that true?”

  “It is as you say. I was found there days later, but that does not make me a survivor.” Her thoughts were of the personal loss that had come from the event. She did not feel like a survivor, but a victim.

  “I’m told you lost your family in the event as well, and that your father had been schooled in the arts of magic. Is that true as well?”

  “I don’t remember my father practicing any magic, but I can say that it was not the Great Destruction that killed my parents. It was a bounty hunter and his thugs. They were after me as well, for what reason I do not know, but my parents fought them, and were killed for it.” And I killed those men in response, and everyone for leagues around, and I’ll find a way to kill you too. She held herself from saying the last part, as she realized she may be saying too much already.

  Her head was still pounding, and the neither the dizziness nor the nausea had subsided. Her mental focus was declining and she was finding the verbal sparring too taxing to continue. She took another bite of the salt beef, forcing herself to chew it despite the nausea.

  “Well my dear, I must say that I do pity you somewhat. Had your parents, and not the street dwellers of the capital, been able to raise you, you would likely be skilled in your magic. Such a waste.”

  After another hour, they came to a bridge, which Hollyglade recognized as the bridge over the Green River, on the South Road. She realized that this meant she had been unconscious when they crossed the South River, and it was now only a half day’s travel to Magnaville’s southern edge. Anxiety built at the realization that soon things were likely to get worse. She was not looking forward to whatever awaited her in the capital.

  As night fell, the silhouette of Magnaville’s skyline in the last rays of twilight would have been a beautiful sight in Hollyglade’s eyes, were it not for the nature of her arrival there. The central tower of Whiterock, the castle which had long been home to the Kings of Loria, loomed above her as the wagon approached the southern gates to the city. Looking up at the sliver of the moon, Hollyglade determined, at least as best she could tell, that they had arrived one evening prior to the new moon.

  The bounty hunter stopped the wagon at the gate, as it was now closed, and was approached by several garrison troops.

  “Halt there,” called one of the guards. “Identify yourself and state your business”

  It was customary for the city gates to be closed at sundown, but Hollyglade could detect a hint of seriousness and apprehension in the voice of the guard.

  “I am about the King’s business,” replied the bounty hunter “I come to complete a contract for the capture and return of this fugitive. I must enter the city to deliver her promptly. Here you are, friends.” He produced a small paper from his tunic and handed it to the guard. “I think you’ll find everything in order. Though I must ask, what causes so many of you to be stationed at the gate this night. Is it not the usual practice for there to be but two or three men here?”

  There were indeed far more than the usual number of troops at the gate. Hollyglade estimated fifty in all.

  Looking over the paper, and giving a nod of approval before handing it back, the guard answered the bounty hunter’s inquiry.

  “You are lucky to have reached the walls when you did. The Demarian army marches this way, and they are estimated to be at our gates by the day after tomorrow, if not tomorrow. Lord Wendal has sent dispatches to recall all army and garrison units to the city to aid in its defense. All medical units have been recalled as well. We are informed that once the Demarian force has been sighted from the wall’s towers, the city shall be sealed and final siege preparations shall be made.

  “It is fortunate for you that you arrived before that. Otherwise you would not have had the safety of Magnaville’s walls. Most of the garrison and army units who are expected to outpace the Demarians to the city have arrived, and we expect the gates shall be barricaded soon.”

  The bounty hunter looked back at Hollyglade and then to the guard.

  “Well, my good man, I am thankful that we have fine men such as yourself protecting the good people of Loria. Now, I must attend to my obligations, and allow you to return to your duties.”

  The guard nodded and waved him through as the gates were opened before them. The bounty hunter urged the horses forward, and they moved through the entrance as the gates closed quickly behind them. Upon entering the city, The Dancer stopped the cart again, and turned around to face Hollyglade.

  “Now, my dear, I’m going to have to insist that from here on out, you not be able to cause me any distress or delay. So, I am going to place upon you this gag and blindfold. I apologize for the discomfort this may cause, but it is necessary since I am required by my contract to lead you to the point of delivery in secrecy.”

  He climbed into the back of the wagon and knelt beside her to apply the gag. Hollyglade struggled for a moment, and then decided that it was not the time to fight. She needed to conserve her energy. She was also relying on the fact that she knew this city better than her captor, and was confident that since they had entered the city from the south, near the Red Lanes where she had grown up, that she could deduce her whereabouts no matter where he
led her from here. A rope was tied into the binding on her wrists, a blindfold applied, and her feet were freed

  “Come now, my dear,” purred the bounty hunter. She was too diminished to resist.

  Their path lead through the narrow back alleys and side streets, all of which Hollyglade felt she could remember, until they stopped somewhere along the wall to the castle, just below the tower. Hollyglade was sure she knew where each of its entrances lay, but when the bounty hunter knocked on a door at the base of the wall, she was surprised that there had been a door there at all. Was this something new, or had she lost track of where they had gone? Some anxiety began to develop in her mind.

  After a moment, the door opened and she was lead inside, the bounty hunter guiding her head under the low opening of the doorframe. Once through the door, she heard it close behind her as she was pulled along what sounded like a tunnel made of stone or brick. After only a short distance, they stopped as she heard someone approach.

  “You have returned rather close to your deadline.”

  She did not recognise the voice which seemed to be implying some level of disapproval. He did not speak like the Lords of the land, nor like the rich gentry, nor like the poorer folk either. Hollyglade detected an accent, one she could not place precisely, though she had prided herself on being able to deduce a person’s region of birth by their accent while living in the diversity of the capital.

  “Ah, yes. Within the time allotted, I have returned. You are correct,” replied Var Toran.

  Hollyglade detected a hint of indignation in the bounty hunter’s voice.

  “She is intact and unharmed, as requested and agreed to. Though I must say that she did not come quietly, and not without great collateral cost.”

  “Your payment was sufficient, Mr. Var Toran, to cover such costs. Do not mention your difficulty to me now. The state of her wellbeing is my only concern. The rest has been covered with gold. Take your payment, and your leave. Your contract is complete.”

  She heard a certain level of impatience in the stranger's voice, and shuddered at the thought of what might be awaiting her. She tried to back away from where the sound of the stranger was coming from, but felt a strong tug on her wrists. Hearing the sound of a large sack of coin, she felt some relief at the notion that she would be free of the company of the bounty hunter, yet fear and dread over what may come next in the grasp of the stranger.