No ones chosen, p.40
No One's Chosen, page 40
They had ridden west and left the main road for the smaller side roads into a rocky hillside. It had been no more than an hour on this side road before they came across an overturned wagon. As they approached, a pair of poorly dressed women in ragged dresses stepped out from in front of the wrecked wagon to wave them down. Inney obliged and brought the wagon to a stop in the middle of the road. The women were bone thin. The taller of the two women wore a tattered green dress under a matted bunch of brown hair. The elf beside her looked to be about half her age. She had silver hair and a stained blue dress of her own.
"Good morrow!" The brown-haired woman's voice was almost chipper. Funny, Rianaire thought, but an effective way to disarm people. A bright enough smile might even hide the rough state of her hair and clothes.
The silver-haired elf was not so talkative. Rather, she looked at the ground and occasionally turned her head slightly to check that the overturned wagon had not disappeared.
"Good morrow. Is there some help we might afford you?" Inney's voice was polite and her face bore the ever present smile. She had not seen fit to open those piercing green eyes. Rianaire wondered what the women must have thought of it. Whatever their thoughts may have been the brown-haired elf was determined to continue the farce.
"Ah, would you be so kind? Our wagon has thrown an axle and we lack the knowledge to fix it. We have materials. Would you be so kind as to take a look?"
The smile grew on Inney's face. "What a thing to happen!" The concern in her voice sounded as genuine as Rianaire had ever heard. "But I fear we are also poorly schooled in the ways of mending wagons. Would a ride to the nearest town suffice you? Surely there would be a pair of capable hands there."
The woman stopped. She had not expected that. Nor had she expected Inney's kindness. "Oh… I… I couldn't leave my goods. Nor would I wish to impose on your good nature." Síocháin tapped at their backs to signal that she had seen movement around the wagon.
Rianaire stood suddenly and spoke. "Did you mean to have us come down from the wagon?" She turned around to look, standing on the seat at the head of the wagon. There were four others. A younger boy and three older men. They held poorly forged swords and were each as thin as the other women. They took it in turns to stand properly, showing themselves. "It would be easier to kill us on the ground, I suspect."
The oldest looking of the men pulled a sword. Rianaire twisted her hand and gritted her teeth. As she did, rough, white roots shot up from the ground under the man and wrapped his shoulders, pulling him down. The man thudded against the ground and the roots dug themselves into his chest. He had been standing beside the young boy who ran to the front of the wagon and behind the brown-haired woman. The two other men pulled swords. The man nearest the back pulled his sword overhead to throw and the roots missed his body, wrapping around the blade. They slipped off easily but threw the man's balance off. He stumbled forward, swinging wildly and putting the edge deep into the wood. Síocháin lunged forward with her dirk and plunged it deep into the man's neck. He fell away clutching at his throat and the last of the men dropped his sword where he stood.
"To the front," commanded Rianaire. He did as he was bid and when he got there he went to his knees. The women and the boy followed him in prostrating themselves.
"Please, milady. We didn't mean nothin'," the man said.
Inney hopped down and stood in front of the man. "It does little to lie after having shown your hand." Her voice was sickly sweet and the smile seemed mocking. The girl turned and looked up at Rianaire who still stood on the wagon. The man stood, suddenly, behind her, a dagger in his hand.
"Inney!" Rianaire scarcely had time to shout before the blade was pushed through the girl's neck. There was no blood but the blade was certainly there. Nearly imperceptibly, a shadow passed across the man's neck and a line of skin and meat opened with the shadow had been. Inney walked forward and the blade pulled out from her neck. The blood began to spurt from the neck of the raider.
Rianaire slumped down into the seat below her. The silver-haired elf screamed as the man's blood leaked out onto the ground around them. The remaining raiders were spattered with the stuff from head to toe.
Inney looked up at Rianaire. "I apologize if I startled you, Rianaire. I forget you have not seen me work. If it's the magic, I can teach you. It ought to be simple for a woman of your skill." She smiled wide and turned to the brown-haired woman. Inney grabbed the woman roughly by the head and dragged her forward with surprising strength. The boy behind stood to strike out at her.
"Cinnte, no!" The boy froze when the brown-haired woman shouted. "Don't hurt him, please, he's my boy. He don't know nothin'."
Rianaire stepped down from the wagon and approached the woman. "You three do not belong here."
"Aye, aye. We do not. I was a cobbler in Glassruth before it fell. The boy is mine and the girl… she ain't never hurt a soul. I found her half dead 'round the end of Breithe."
"You are part of a larger group then?" Rianaire nodded to Inney who let the woman go.
She nodded when she had righted herself. "Not for so long, but we are. Two weeks ago now."
"And where are they?"
The woman's face grew suddenly stern. A silence fell over the road until Síocháin kicked away the body of the man that had swung at her. The girl with the silver hair flinched as the thud sounded from the back of the wagon and began to cry.
"I cannot—"
Rianaire knelt down in front of the woman and she stopped her refusal. "You are worried they will kill you. You and your boy and this girl," Rianaire motioned to them in turn. "I understand." Rianaire stood. "I feel that understanding is an important thing, so I will explain myself clearly. You will die, here and now, on this road, if you do not lead me to the elf who leads your raiding party. If you assist me, I will forgive your attempt on my life and suggest that your leader do the same."
The woman looked back at her son and the weeping silver-haired girl. She turned and looked to the ground for a long moment. "Aye," she said, finally. "I will show you."
"Wonderful!" Rianaire's mood brightened immediately. "Síocháin, help these three into the wagon."
Inney helped the brown-haired elf to her feet. And the three hostages moved to the back side of the wagon.
"The road ought to be wide enough to turn around, don't you think?" Rianaire said to Inney.
The brown-haired elf spoke to correct Rianaire when she had stood in the rear of the wagon. "The main camp is not that way."
"Ah, I assumed as much," Rianaire said. "But I am tired and I should quite like to rest ahead of whatever tomorrow might hold. And since we are no longer enemies, I should like to get to know you more closely."
The eldest of the elves gave her a bewildered look. Rianaire climbed up into the seat of the wagon and Inney beside her. Síocháin came forward to join them.
Rianaire turned back to them and smiled. "Have you stayed in an inn before?"
Aile
The sun gave her the first glimpse of the mountain at the back of the Bastion City. She would be there soon. No cutthroats awaiting her in inns or woodcutters loyal to their kin. The ride was nearly at an end now and soon she saw the first houses on the outskirts of the Bastion City.
The buildings began to fill quickly and the streets grew thick with elves. Some stared at her but most seemed not to notice. Many of the elves were dressed in white and were marching solemnly toward the main gate. Some were crying. Some were singing. The roads were congested and many of the wagons bound for the city were stuck among the mess. She rode beside one with a thin, middle aged elf with a round face and brown hair. She had not looked at the man when he began speaking.
"A Drow, eh? Come from the Blackwood lookin' to buy?"
She ignored the question. "What is this gathering? Some elf holy day?"
"Nothin' so joyful as that. The Treorai's dead, they say. Killed by raiders along the main road."
"The convoy," Aile thought. She spoke. "And they mean to pay respects at the gate?"
"Nah," the man said. "Gates are open all the way to the Bastion. S'the way it's always been."
Aile smiled to herself and dismounted the horse. Movement was too slow and she was too plainly spotted on the beast. The man called after her as she left the horse among the throngs pushing their way to the main gate.
The area she had dismounted in was among the nicer in the outskirts. Heavy with visitors, it had alehouses and inns aplenty, alongside any shops and services you could imagine. Aile made directly for the nearest alehouse and pushed open the door. She did not enter but checked around for pegs on the wall. There were none and no unattended tables. She pulled back from the door and moved to the next alehouse, doing the same. This time a pair of cloaks hung just inside the door. She snatched the nearest one and ran. Another block over she stopped behind a potshop and sat down with the long, canvas cloak. It was far more fabric than she could use. She pulled the knife she had taken off the hunter and tore at the double thick canvas and its soft linen lining. The cloak gave way, but the struggle was immense. This blade would never do for her work in the city, she decided.
She finished cutting the cloak to size as cleanly as she could manage with the dull instrument. When it was done, she donned it, pulled it over her head, and made for the main road. The elven mass had not moved itself forward an impressive amount but the progress was steady. The road was well wide and full entirely with elves. Aile worked her way to the middle of the teeming crowd and hid herself there. She looked forward to see the gate. There were at least ten guards that she could make out stationed above the gate and she could not know how many around its base. There was nothing else for it but to keep her head down and walk. It was perhaps a quarter of a mile to the gate from where she stood.
As she had assumed it would be, movement was slow. The singing and weeping had blended into a sort of cacophony that threatened to drive Aile from her wits. It was nearly two hours when her segment of the mourning tide had reached the gates. Aile kept her head down and her skin from sight. None of the elves around her had seemed to notice her, or if they did they simply moved away and been replaced with less observant types. There were many eyes on the column as it made its way into the city, though as she passed under the great stone wall, she heard no shouts from the guards or gasps from the crowd. She dared not look up. The feet of the elf in front of her were the marching pace and she intended to follow them blindly, and deafly if the chanting and wailing of the travelers were to have a say in the matter. It was ten minutes and then twenty. She thought surely they must have moved well enough away from the wall, but she did not look up. She simply started making her way through the sea of elf flesh toward the edge of the road.
Aile was not the only creature in the crowd who had warmed to the idea of leaving the main pillar. The bodies thinned significantly at the edges as elves broke off here and there to seek food and comfort and the like. The Outer Crescent nearest the wall tended to be a bit more well spaced and open than the areas closer to the Inner Crescent's barricade. Aile moved her way down the streets between farms and small groves of trees, some bearing bright fruits or late Saol flowers. She followed the street around until she found another that moved north. It was a smaller side street but was still full with mourning elves making their way toward the bastion.
There was no want for distraction in the city today, but Aile noticed that she still attracted more attention than anything else on offer on the streets. She would need to take great care to avoid the city's guards. Her employer had been in the Binse and had coin enough to see her set after by three talented killers, his influence over those he controlled through his position were apt to be even more dedicated to their task. She needed blades. And the cramping that had started to twist its way into her empty stomach told her she needed food as well. Perhaps it was for the best, she considered. While there would be confusion, there would also be a surfeit of guards on watch for any wrongdoing.
The Drow pulled herself off of the main street and into the shaded retreats of a nearby alley. It was lined with crates and held a fair few juts out from the shops. She could hide herself here until night fell. Not a soul passed in the first two hours of her stay in the alley so Aile allowed herself a bit of sleep, making sure to cover her skin as best she could in the large cloak.
She awoke to the sound of a crate clattering to the ground and jumped to her feet. There was no one in the alley save for her and she calmed herself. The sun was below the horizon, she could tell from the color of the sky, but night had not yet set upon the world. Aile approached the toppled crate to inspect it. There was a length of rope in the wreckage and nothing else but dust. She decided the rope might be of use in procuring food and so she took it and tucked it into a bulky pocket inside the cloak.
She walked out into the street as the purple sky turned a deeper blue on the way to black. She walked the area around taking stock of the shops in the area. There was a smith and a jeweler along the first road she passed and a bladesmith on the second. The sign attested that the owner made bladed weapons, no shields or mail. She took it upon herself to remember the place. The streets were still very alive with elves going about their business though the throngs seemed to have died down. She made her way south towards the miniature farms of the farther flung Outer Crescent.
The plots passed her by, one after another, until she caught the scent of roasting meat. She did her best find the house that was producing the smell and then pulled her rope from the cloak. She cut it into short lengths quickly with her knife. She kept two to hand and put the rest in the cloak. When she was done she walked to the door and knocked.
There was a rustle inside the small house and after a short moment the handle creaked and the door swung open. A tall, blond elf opened the door and looked at her with a curious expression. Before he could question why a Drow was at his door, Aile shoved her leg in behind his and reached up for his throat. She placed her hand onto the man's neck and pushed hard. He swept over easily and his head ricocheted off the floor violently. He rolled to his side instantly with a groan. Aile quickly gathered up his hands before his head cleared and tied them. She was half done with the knot on his legs when a woman's scream came from the doorway to the adjoining room.
Aile yanked the knot tight on the man and shut the door in a smooth motion as she stood to chase the elf into the other room. The adjoining room was a dining room and she caught the woman there, just glancing the back of her knee with the knife. The elf started to struggle, but Aile held the knife aloft to show it to her and she stopped there. There was no trouble tying the woman's hands and legs after that.
She dragged the elf back into the main room where her mate was bound. She screamed when she saw him on the floor with his eyes closed. She slapped the woman, which quieted her, and went back to the dining room. There was a cloth across the table. Aile cut away two strips and returned to the main room. She gagged the elves and leaned them against the wall farthest from the street.
The woman did not look up at her, she kept her eyes on her unconscious lover. Aile looked them over and spoke. "I am here for your food. I will kill you if you force it."
She left them and walked to the kitchen, just beyond the dining room. There was a bright clay box dug into the floor of the house with metal covers over a fire and a pot and pan with simmering mushrooms and cream and a seared piece of beef respectively. She pressed a finger to the meat and it was firm enough to be done. A bottle of wine sat on a stone counter beside. She took the small pot and dumped its contents onto the seared meat and it bubbled rapidly. She grabbed the wine in one hand and the other, wrapped in the cloak, picked up the pan by its iron handle.
She spilled some of the sauce when she dropped the pan onto the table. The wood cracked under the heat of the pan but she ignored it and went back to the kitchen seeking a utensil of some sort. She found a kitchen knife and fork and took them back. Aile enjoyed the meal slowly and took regular, deep drinks of the wine. It was awful, closer to vinegar than anything she could find in her recent memory, but it sufficed to quench her thirst. When the beef was gone, Aile sat in the dining room chair a long while, staring at the ceiling. There was no need to rush. Not now. The later it grew, the fewer souls would be wandering the streets. There was only time now. And a vast series of hiding places should anyone wish to find her. But that would not do. He had an outstanding debt and had tried to kill her besides. Her reputation was also a matter worth considering.
Aile stood and walked into the main room and stood in front of the couple. The man was awake but glassy eyed. She spoke to the woman.
"I will loose your mouth before I leave, elf. If you scream before sunup, I will come and kill you. If you say the word Drow to anyone, I will come and kill you. Do you understand?"
The woman nodded feebly and Aile leaned in and cut free the gag from both of her captives. With that done she turned and left. As she walked down the approach to the road, there was no sound from the house. The streets had grown quiet for the most part and Aile made her way toward the bladesmith's shop she had seen earlier, ducking into alleys if any others joined her on the street. She was more likely to be called to as a child than a Drow in the darkness, but in ways that tended to be worse.
She arrived in front of the bladesmith's with little delay and saw no candles burning among the windows. She slid into the amply sized alley and checked the other windows for light. There were none. It was quite early still, but she counted herself lucky. Either the owner took to bed early or took to his cups late.
The door to the shop was barred from the far side, but it was a poorly made door and the whole of her knife blade slid into the crack. The wood barring the door was thin and light, to her pleasant surprise. Aile lifted the board and pushed the knife in farther before bringing it to the ground. She had worried it would fall to the floor and clatter, which would delay her plans, but the board stayed steady and when it fell from the far catch, it propped itself handily against some nearby case or the door jam, perhaps. She did not know but she pushed down on the latch and pushed the door open just enough to put herself through it. The wood slid out obediently and Aile could not help but wonder about her fickle Goddess and what constituted a blessing.
