No One's Chosen (57 page)

By the time they had made it out of the mess, Silín
was returning with quill and ink and paper, Doiléir beside her.
Socair sent him to see to the gate and took the writing materials.
She was pleased to find that there was a seal marked into the top
of each sheet of the paper Silín had found as there was no wax to
make any sort of official seal. Socair scrawled a letter to explain
that there were hippocamps in the southwest in unknown number and
that they needed to be reinforced at the outpost en route to
Drocham as soon as the Regent was able to muster a force.

Silín returned with the mount. She spoke to the boy.
"Do you know the way to Dulsiar?"

"Well enough," he replied.

"And how to ride."

He nodded.

Socair handed him the letter. "This is to go direct
to the Black Keep. To no one else. They will see to you when you
arrive. Tell them what you know if they ask questions of you. I am
called Socair, I am a Bearer of the Will. Tell them as such. And be
quick. Even if it is midnight, wake them."

She pressed the letter into the boy's hand and Silín
helped him onto the horse. He pulled it around and trotted toward
the gate, looking back.

"Go, boy. And let nothing stop you," Socair shouted.
He dug into the horse and it lit out, passing the main gate and off
into the growing dark.

Socair heaved a worried sigh. She walked to the gate
to help Doiléir close it properly. When it was done they brought
the horses into the yard and saw to closing the south gate as best
they could. The horses were restless, as were the only three living
elves in the outpost.

"Do you think they will act quickly to reinforce us?"
Silín asked as they gathered feed for the horses.

"It does not matter whether they act at all." Socair
said, hefting a bag of feed to her shoulder. "We will do what we
must."

The outer walls of Fásachbaile were lined all the way
around with cut out bits along the bottom every few dozen yards to
help with drainage for the rare occasion when the city saw rainfall
of any kind. The dry earth under the city, and indeed under the
bulk of the province, did not hold water well and so flooding was a
concern even for brief downpours. The holes were by no means small,
standing four feet tall and easily as wide, they could be crawled
through to the outside with little effort. Cosain had told her once
that the drainage holes could be shut in case of an attack or some
other emergency, but Óraithe had never seen them closed. Still, she
had only been out of the city a single time when the need for
adventure had struck her. She had stepped out onto the dry, coarse
packed dirt of the surrounding lands and looked around to see the
vast expanse of nothing beyond the walls. That was as far as she
had gone. Cosain had never invited her out on his excursions to
gather ingredients for his potions, but she had not asked to go
either.

Moving through the drainage hole felt entirely
different than it had that time before. There was no rush of
excitement or sense of venturing into the unknown, even though she
very much was. It was just a shifting sea of concern and prayer.
She had never figured the Sisters cared much for prayers but there
was little else for her to try. She only needed for Teas to be
alive. She would do the rest herself.

A few meters of crawling through the dim, sandy
tunnel and she emerged from the other side to see the sands lit in
the purple glow of the moons. Tine's Eye shone with a particular
intensity that made Óraithe feel ill at ease. She pushed the
feelings down as deep as she could, drowning them beneath a cold,
emotionless tide.

Scanning the horizon, she saw the shadow of the rock
that was meant to be her beacon and she started to run toward it.
The land under her feet shifted from hard-packed, bone-dry dirt to
lakes of loose sand that slowed her progress. Her shoes, though
worn, were thick enough to keep the plants of the desert from
worrying her, but the prickly fauna still seemed to reach out at
her and tear at the skin of her legs as she ran through the night
air. She could see well enough but shadows hid things perfectly
under the light of the moons.

The running was as constant as Óraithe could manage,
but she could not keep her pace entirely. She would run until her
lungs burned, walk until the fire died down, and then repeat the
process. To be free of the troubles of city patrols, the camp would
need to be at least a few miles from the city walls, Óraithe
reminded herself. It seemed such a long run, but Teas was waiting
for her.

She saw the camp well before she heard it. An orange
glow in the hazy distance of the desert night. It was larger than
she had expected. A tent city that stretched at least a few hundred
yards on any side and must have held nearly a thousand raiders.
Óraithe stopped when she saw it clearly and could faintly hear the
sounds of revelry and song. As she grew nearer the camp, the noise
of yelled arguments and raucous laughter joined the din.

There was precious little foliage around the camp.
Óraithe assumed that had been by design. There would be ample
warning of any approaching parties, regardless of size or threat.
She was small, however, and in the night it would be hard to spot
her from the harsh glow of the camp, even for a trained eye. She
moved from one patch of dry brush to another, keeping herself as
hidden as the desert would allow. She was close enough now to see
the shapes of bodies moving on the outside edges of the camp. They
were few and seemed to be in circuit around the place in pairs,
though they would often cut into the camp. Perhaps there was no
watch, she considered.

Óraithe willed herself closer Her knees had been
shaking terribly since she could see the fires. As she made the
edge of the camp, her mind ran over the possibilities of her
capture. The most pleasant possibility was a quick death if she
could manage to provoke a fight. The other stories she had heard
were less pleasant. Rape or slavery or, worse, being sold over to
the hippocamps. There were few elves with so little honor as to
sell their own to the horsefolk, but they existed.

She worked her way slowly from tent to tent and made
sure to keep to the shadows. Most of the raiders kept to the
central fires, it seemed, and indeed to the noise attested to that.
The small city of lawless elves was a confusion of smells. Rancid
meat and shit mixed with the smells of roasts and fragrant spices
being burned.

It felt like she had been wandering for hours, but
the moons had hardly moved across the sky. The smells had put
themselves into the background and the noise had become a low groan
in spite of its considerable volume. There had been no sounds other
than the garbled mash of violent noise since she'd entered. Not
until she heard a woman's scream.

Óraithe became acutely aware of the blade she had
held in her hand since Scaa had handed it over. Somehow she had
forgotten it but noticing it now filled her with purpose. She moved
toward the sound of the scream as quickly and quietly as she could
manage. The raiders were clumsy and drunk more often than not. It
had made her work all the easier but the size of the camp had done
her no favors in finding Teas quickly. The screaming had died out
by the time she was near enough to pinpoint the sound, but she was
close enough now.

She peeked her head around the corner and saw the
source of the scream. Óraithe's mouth fell open when she saw it. A
long wall of unfinished wood had been dug into the ground and women
and men and girls and boys alike had been forced along the flats,
stripped of their clothes, and secured with straps of leather. Most
looked too tight and the sound of sobbing was plain to her ears
from this distance. The small elf looked over the circle. It was
not a well hidden space, but she could not see both sides of the
wall.

Óraithe scurried from the shadows and immediately
drew whispers from the prisoners who could manage to stop their
sobbing long enough to plea for her help. She did not hear any of
them and made her way around the end. There. Three from the end was
Teas. It was not until she saw her friend that the damage done to
these elves registered.

Teas was red all over her pale skin and chunks of
pubic hair had been ripped out. She bled from the skin where the
hairs had been torn from her body. Beneath her was a too-shallow
trough filled with the collected piss and blood and shit and semen
of the captives and their visitors.

The girl had been sobbing with her eyes shut tight
since Óraithe had come around the corner and for Sister's knows how
long before. Óraithe reached out for her arm and the girl wrenched
away, jerking her body awkwardly. The violent shake pulled a heavy
sob and gasp from the northern girl.

"Teas," Óraithe whispered.

Teas opened her eyes in a deep surprise. "Óraithe… I…
I…"

Óraithe held up a finger to silence the girl. "I mean
to free you. And the rest. This is sickness."

Teas's arms were bound together by a single strap
above her body. The strap loosened from the top of the wall and
Óraithe was too short to reach for it. Her legs were bound spread
and it made her hang away from the wall, her crotch easily
accessible though the angle looked painful just to see.

Óraithe bent down and began to saw away at the
leathers at Teas's legs. She worked through one with great effort
and the northern elf's leg fell limp down toward the ground. The
knife fought her as she worked the second binding loose and the
other leg fell free. Teas's hands were nearly too high to reach.
Óraithe stood on her toes and could just reach the bottom, but
awkwardly. She managed to cut just the bottom edge of one side of
the hand binding with her first few strokes. She put in more
strength. The blade worked through the leather but bit into Teas's
hand. The girl bit her lip to stifle a scream. Óraithe apologized
but kept sawing. There was no other way. Eventually the bottom of
the bond loosened enough to tear under Teas's weight and the
light-haired girl fell forward.

She hugged onto Óraithe, sobbing and apologizing.
Óraithe had never put her arms more tightly around another living
being than she did around Teas. She had saved the girl. "Not yet,"
her own voice broke in to remind her that there was work to be
done.

"Can you stand?"

Teas nodded and Óraithe turned from her. The next in
the line was a stocky woman with deeply tanned skin. Her eyes went
wet and a smile spread across her face.

"Oh, thank ye child. Sisters bless ye."

Óraithe began sawing at the leg binding as quickly as
she could but it would not go. The leather was thicker than Teas's.
She flipped the knife and tried again. She sawed and pushed at the
leather with all her might and it started to fray just the
slightest bit. As the leather began to give way, a pair of deep,
laughing voices rang at the far end of the wall.

The small elf stood and looked toward the voices.
Óraithe looked to the woman. The stocky elf's expression dropped
into despair as guilt spread across Óraithe's face. She turned to
grab Teas by the hand.

"No." The woman said the words quietly but fear took
its hold and she screamed. "Please, no. Please!"

Óraithe wished more than most anything that she could
not hear the words. The hoarse desperation melted into her mind and
tore at her heart as she pulled Teas toward the shadows. She could
hear the woman begin to cry as they passed the first rows of
tents.

She felt safer back in the shadows but there was no
telling what the raiders might do when they found their missing
property. Óraithe moved as fast as she felt was possible. Teas
groaned and strained with each step. The muscles in her legs and
arms had been torn and stretched in the hours it had taken.

Óraithe kept her eyes in as many places as she could
manage. Whenever her eyes moved to Teas, the girl would look at her
and smile. It was so sweet and innocent, that smile. Óraithe
thought she might die from the sight of it. They had made for the
nearest edge of the camp and were out into the dark of the desert
night in half the time it had taken Óraithe to move to where Teas
was held. There was a flat of rock jutting from the desert sands
and Óraithe took Teas to it and sat her down out of sight.

Óraithe began looking her over. The northern elf's
breasts were bruised and her womanhood was torn and bleeding. Her
face had been spared, somehow. Óraithe put a hand to Teas's
cheek.

"You came." Teas sighed, leaning her head against the
rock, exhausted. "You came and saved me."

Tears welled in Óraithe's eyes and they streamed down
her face. "No," she whispered but Teas seemed not to hear or
see.

"I told her you would. The woman beside me. She
smiled and nodded, but she did not believe me, I knew. But you
came." Teas frowned. "I'm… sorry. I… the plan… they took the
silvers."

Óraithe could not bear it. She had been the reason
for this. This poor girl had done nothing but love her and look
what it caused. Óraithe leaned forward and hugged Teas, kissing her
on the cheek. She could not find the words.

They needed to go, Óraithe knew. Scaa should be
waiting with a healer and the sun would not hide forever. She
grabbed Teas by the arm and pulled her up.

"Lean on me," Óraithe said.

And so she did. Óraithe wished she were stronger. She
could not carry her sister, no matter how much she wished it. The
short elf did what she could. Teas leaned more weight on than
Óraithe could handle easily but she would not complain. No cost to
her own body would pay back what Teas had suffered.

The girl's feet moved awkwardly beneath her. It would
not do to have her pass the miles this way. Óraithe took her shoes
and put them onto Teas. They did not fit well but they would serve
for the walk. The ground was more unforgiving than Óraithe had
known and shards of dried earth pressed into her feet regularly
before snapping away and crumbling. It was nearly a mile before the
sensation had numbed her feet enough to ignore the pain. The wind
had picked up in the dead of the night and sent errant grains of
sand across the pair. Óraithe wished there were clothes to offer,
but the shirt would never fit and even if she cut the skirt
liberally, it would cover precious little of the taller girl.