No One's Chosen (30 page)

"We've been in this wood long enough." Rianaire said,
sounding more annoyed than any other emotion. "We should head for
road else we'll end up passing the town by entirely."

They came upon the road after twenty minutes or so.
The weather showed no signs of breaking so Rianaire decided that
they should remain under the trees at the edge of the wood. The
grass of the forest seemed to be holding up better than the roads,
at any rate. Summer rains were not uncommon in the area and this
was no major storm but Rianaire found herself wishing for warmth
and sunshine. There were times when she loved Spéirbaile, true
enough, but this was not one of them. The raiding parties had been
a problem since before the time of her mother. They had certainly
not been worse under Rianaire's own rule. She even liked to tell
herself they had been somewhat less frequent and less likely to
result in death but the slaughter of her guard made the sort of
justification she longed for hard to take seriously.

Rianaire kept her eyes at her feet to avoid the
downed limbs and twisting roots that seemed to want to snag her
dress any chance they could get. She looked over out of the wood to
consider the road again. It was packed clay and gravel. The way
long roads had always been built. She looked back to her feet and
scoffed.

"It was the road that caused this."

"In part." Síocháin replied.

Rianaire looked at her, wanting to damn her to the
Fires for always being right. "It helped enough. It ought to be
paved proper with stones and filler."

"Spárálaí would likely explode just imagining the
cost."

"All the more reason to be rid of him. The wet does
too much damage to the road, especially a road so often traveled by
so many. And if Spárálaí would rather the Bastion hold onto a few
coins while people cannot make trade or avoid raiders then he's
like to lose more than his position."

Síocháin allowed herself a tiny grin. "Don't tease me
with empty promises, Rianaire."

Rianaire smiled. She was happy for the playful
banter. She looked up to check the road again and saw a clearing a
ways ahead. They had made the town, at last. She poked Síocháin on
the arm and pointed up ahead before making for the road. Síocháin
joined her on the washed out highway. It was fair enough on some
spots but the divots were massive and ran to small ponds of water
that formed along the sides and middle of the road. She'd not paid
much attention to it during the carriage ride and she knew progress
had been slow but it truly was untenable.

By the time they made the inn in the city, their feet
were caked with wet clay. The nicer of the two inns that Ceird had
to offer was near the center of town. As they approached Rianaire
mentioned a potential hitch in the plan. "We have no coin to
hand."

Síocháin replied almost too quickly. "Then let us
hope they know your face."

The inn was a lovely place. Deep rich wood with green
accents and a green door beneath a red clay tile roof, all made
darker by the rain. The lobby was dimly lit and cozy, Rianaire
found as they entered the place. It was a large rectangular lobby
with fireplaces at each end and a desk for the clerk directly down
the middle. When they entered, the clerk approached immediately
while Rianaire and Síocháin bent to remove their shoes. He looked
them over and seemed satisfied by the quality of their clothes.

"My Ladies, I welcome you to the High Guard Inn. The
weather has been atrocious of late and I—" His eyes widened as
Rianaire stood. "Tre-Treorai" He bowed his head immediately.

"He knows your face, I'd say," Síocháin remarked
dryly.

"No need to bow your head, young man." She spoke
kindly. "You have a lovely inn."

He looked up, excited. "I thank you, Treorai. The
innkeep will be most pleased to hear it. He is out at the moment
but if you like I could have him called."

"That is quite alright," Rianaire said. "Rather, I'd
prefer you didn't. Síocháin, could you please explain our
situation? I fear I am in dire need of the use of one of these
fires."

Rianaire walked off and Síocháin took the clerk back
to his desk to explain what had happened. The fire was the most
welcome thing Rianaire could have imagined. It was warm and dry and
immediately made her feel alive again. She hadn't realized how cold
she had truly been in her soaked clothes. It was fewer than five
minutes before Síocháin returned to her side and took in the warmth
of the fire for herself. It was not like Síocháin to forget
herself, but she did.

Rianaire watched her for a moment, smiling, before
asking. "Well?"

Síocháin did not overreact to the question, she
merely answered in the typical manner. "He is seeing to a room. On
the first floor. It has a bath, he says. I told him that no one can
know we are here. And that we would require fresh clothes."

"You told him about the raiders?"

"I told him we were here on a lover's getaway."

Rianaire laughed lightly. "I suppose that will afford
us the same privacy without alarming the boy. He had no questions
about why we had no clothes?"

"Oddly, he did not. Perhaps that is common for lovers
in the west." Síocháin looked at the fire. "What will we do about
returning to Spéirbaile?"

"In the morning, we shall ask the use of a pair of
horses. I am not entirely convinced the raiders have—" Rianaire
stopped as the young clerk came trotting up, his arms full with
clothing.

"The room has been prepared. Please, follow me."

He grinned stupidly as he led them to a room at the
end of the hall on the first floor of the inn. When they were in
front of the door he handed Síocháin the key and bowed again. She
opened the door and then turned to take the stack of clothes. She
walked into the room without a word. Rianaire waited behind to
thank him and apologize for the problem. He insisted it was no
trouble and scurried off toward the lobby.

The room was spacious with a large bed and several
dressers around the walls. It was lit with two lanterns and had
nice, thick curtains over the windows which would provide ample
privacy. Síocháin busied herself checking the windows as Rianaire
made for a door at the back corner of the room. The windows were
the sort that opened out from the bottom. Satisfied with them she
turned as Rianaire opened the door to the bathroom they had been
promised.

Steam rolled out into the room. "Oh, Sisters, yes."
Rianaire immediately stripped her clothes off, ripping the dress in
the process. This provoked a small laugh from Síocháin but Rianaire
did not seem to hear it.

"Do you intend to observe the beautiful washing
rituals of the west, milady?" Síocháin's tone was mocking and
nearly too late as Rianaire was already half into the tub.

"Fires take their damned rags and buckets." She let
out a relieved moan as she slipped into the sizable tub. Some of
the water spilled out onto the floor. Rianaire closed her eyes.
This was bliss. No being should have to go without a hot bath,
especially not after a day such as the one they had just been
through. Rianaire opened her eyes to look for Síocháin. She was
still in the bedroom proper. "Síocháin?" she called, wondering what
was keeping her. She scoffed. "Well are you coming or not?"

Síocháin appeared at the door, dress half unbuttoned.
"Well, milady, someone has to prepare clothes for milady and dry
milady's cloak."

Rianaire rolled her eyes. "Of course. Why else would
I have named you my handmaid. Certainly not for the
conversation."

"Certainly not," Síocháin echoed, dropping her dress
to the floor.

She entered the tub. It was much smaller than the one
at Cnoclean but still had ample room for the two of them.

"You did not finish in the lobby."

"Hm?" Rianaire had hardly heard her. "Oh, yes." She
sat up in the water. "I am not convinced the raiders have fled
entirely. They were extremely well outfitted. I doubt if our camp
was enough to sate them."

"And this is the nearest town."

Rianaire nodded before cupping water up to her face.
"It is, but with the weather as it is we had little other choice.
It is also the only town with a courier for some miles. And a large
enough stable to spare two horses."

Síocháin slid over into Rianaire's arms and they
relaxed in the warmth of the tub together until the light started
to fade outside. They finally got out, skin wrinkled and bodies
warm to the core. The clothes the clerk had prepared for them were
summer riding clothes. Loose linen pants and shifts. There were
some thin leather coverings as as well, but nothing particularly
substantial for the weather. They would serve, however. Síocháin
and Rianaire both dressed, the cloaks not yet dry.

The noble elf sat in a chair as Síocháin did her best
to fix the nest of tangles on Rianaire's head. There were no
brushes but it wouldn't do to let it dry that way and Síocháin
could at least comb it with her fingers. Rianaire tried to escape
when the pain had become too nagging but Síocháin forced her back
down into the chair.

It was dark out when a knock came at the door. He had
brought dinner. Síocháin shooed him away after taking the tray from
him.

"He kept apologizing about the food," she explained
as she walked over with the tray.

Rianaire could not see why. The dinner was lamb loin
with boiled summer greens and bacon. It was not the best thing
Rianaire had ever eaten, she knew, but the exhaustion of the day
made it utterly delicious. They had eaten less than half of it when
a loud slam came from the direction of the lobby. Rianaire sprang
to her feet but did not make a sound. She could hear the sound of
laughter from the lobby, gruff and from more than a dozen
throats.

She looked to Síocháin whose eyes were narrow and she
had moved to speak when she heard a voice from outside the
window.

It was muffled but she could make it out clearly
enough. "Nah, he says the cunts weren't there. Run off somewhere,
most like."

As the voice passed, Síocháin looked through the
curtain. Rianaire raised a silent eyebrow and Síocháin nodded. The
raiders were here. Rianaire wished she had been wrong. She wished
they had just retreated to some other place. At least long enough
for her to prepare an answer to their presence.

The voice of a second raider chimed in. "Haha, into
them woods, eh? Reckon she run into some wolves? Like to got fucked
before they ate her, eh?" The raiders both laughed.

Síocháin shoved Rianaire's cloak into her hands. She
put it on. "Where do we go?" Síocháin asked.

"Anywhere but here."

The raider patrol had passed around the back side of
the building. Síocháin forced the window open and held it as
Rianaire climbed out. The ground was as wet as ever and the rain
had picked up again. It would help hide them, at least. Rianaire
turned and scanned the square in front of the hotel, they were
everywhere. Raiders littered the yard. More than the twenty she had
seen earlier in the day. They numbered at least fifty now. Another
ten or more were in the hotel. Each wore the armor that she had
seen earlier in the day. Síocháin stepped down behind her.

Rianaire led them away from the hotel. The northern
side of the town was like to be the quietest. It had no shops or
inns or taverns or anything of the sort. They stole along behind
houses until the sounds of the square died in the rain behind them.
Far enough from the core of them, they turned to the town's muddy
streets. They could handle one. Maybe even a few of them so long as
they stayed away from the core group.

Most of the houses showed fires burning inside. They
did not know what was afoot in the square. Perhaps, Rianaire hoped,
it was just a celebration and these people would not come to harm.
The thought had barely passed through her mind when she heard a
woman's scream.

She rounded the corner of a darkened house and saw
them in the darkness. A woman, she couldn't say how old, under the
weight of a fat, giggling raider. He was missing half of one
down-turned ear and was easily twice the size of the girl. He
slapped her across the face.

"Stupid girl, no use screamin'," his words were
breathy with exhaustion and the labored work of his lungs between
breathes was apparent. Neither of them had noticed Rianaire and
Síocháin at the edge of the house.

Rianaire put her left hand into the shape of Spéir's
ward. The fat elf stopped his sounds immediately. Surprise washed
over his face and his eyes bulged. He tried to breathe with all he
had but there was nothing. His chest heaved and spasmed in and out
but no sound passed through his lips, no rush of air sounded over
his throat. Rianaire and Síocháin approached. He looked over in a
panic, the girl crying beneath him did not seem to notice his
distress. The fat lout reached his hand out toward Rianaire.
Síocháin kicked him over onto the mud. He flailed there as the
handmaid helped the woman up from the mud. She hugged Síocháin,
crying. The splashing slowed and stopped within another minute.
Rianaire put her hand down by her side and sighed. She walked to
the raider, intent on making sure he was dead.

The body was steaming in the night rain and smelt of
shit and old sweat, but that wasn't what troubled Rianaire. She
knelt beside him looking closely at the armor. It seemed to shimmer
in the moonlight. "No," she whispered. She held her cloak up to
shield the light of the moon and she saw it clearly. The armor
glowed ever so faintly. A shifting rainbow of color, barely visible
even under the shadow of her cloak. "No," she stood, turning and
said to Síocháin, "it's spellforged."

Rianaire rushed to where her handmaid was comforting
the woman. She took the sobbing elf by the shoulders and spun her.
Rianaire's voice was urgent. "We need shelter. We need to
hide."