Alliances

Porthios needed slaves to sell, to give him and his followers an excuse to enter the occupied town. Loud and clumsy as only humans could be, the prisoners were no prizes, even by the low standards of their race, but they were perfect for his plan. He was confident the Dark Knight would unwittingly do just as he wished. As the daughter of one of the Order’s battle lords, she was bred to obedience. She would do her utmost to awaken her superiors to the menace facing Alderhelm. In the meantime, Porthios and his small band of Kagonesti would be heading in the opposite direction, herding their captives to the slave market of Samustal. With the Order’s forces in Qualinesti marshaled to defend Alderhelm, the region around Samustal would be free of their troops. Porthios would have to contend only with Samuval’s bandits.

And there was another reason Porthios was headed to Samustal. When Kagonesti met in the primeval forest, they always exchanged information about intruders or newcomers in their territory. Nalaryn had heard of a stranger who appeared quite suddenly by the Lake of Death. An elf, female and of quiet tread, Nalaryn was told. She smelled of blood, not her own, and even more of danger, so the Kagonesti avoided her.

Porthios was little impressed by Kagonesti gossip. He asked who the female was.

None of the Wilder elves knew. From the signs they’d found at a goblin camp, she had killed several before being taken by slavers, who were also traveling in the direction of Samustal.

“Soon enough all elves in Qualinesti will be free,” Porthios said, regarding the lumbering humans.

Nalaryn nodded. He did not understand how selling humans into slavery would free elves, but the Great Lord had spoken and Nalaryn was pledged to obey.

Chapter 4

Kerian awoke in pain. Her arms were tightly bound behind her, and she lay on her side in a noisome, rickety cart. The cart had barred sides and a wooden roof and was traveling along a heavily rutted road. Every bump caused her head to throb unmercifully.

Since her capture, she had been beaten and starved. The ogre-goblin gang she’d found in the forest had sold her to a large party of humans. The going rate for a female elf was twenty-five steel. The goblins sold her for only ten. Despite beatings from the ogre, she had managed to kill another goblin and assault all the rest. She had become a liability they were only too eager to be rid of.

The human slavers didn’t question the low price; they assumed they were putting one over on the ignorant goblins. That feeling did not last. She was put in chains immediately. The instant one of the humans passed too close as the small group of slaves trudged along, Kerian cold-cocked him with a length of chain. Rather than beat her, the humans simply stopped feeding her. For three days she received no crust of bread, no drop of water. Nor would her fellow slaves share their meager rations. The penalty for helping a prisoner evade punishment was the loss of a finger, a toe, or an eye. The other captives were all Qualinesti. Floggings and starvation they could endure, but mutilation filled them with dread.

The human slavers sold her to a large band of mercenaries escorting several hundred captive elves to the slave market they called Samustal. During the exchange, she slipped her bonds and tried to run. Starvation and dehydration were her undoing. Recaptured, she was given over to the “trouble” cart. Its half-ogre driver beat her, tied her hand and foot, and flung her in a cage with other recalcitrant prisoners.

Hungry, thirsty, and in pain, she was in no way cowed.

“Someone’s going to pay,” she groaned as soon as she regained consciousness.

“Tell it to the driver,” said a deep, gloomy voice. “Orkosham are such good listeners.”

She hauled herself upright. Crowded into the wooden cage with her were three male elves and one dwarf. All were bound as she was. The dwarf had spoken.

“What did you call him?”

“Orkosham. Ogre-men. That’s what the goblins call them. Mercenary captains like them because they’re stronger than humans and work for less pay.”

She rested her forehead on her knees, willing her abused skull not to split in two. Something touched her bare foot and she looked up. One of the elves had pushed a covered bucket to her. Using his teeth, he lifted the cover by its rope handle, set it aside, then took the curved end of the metal dipper in his mouth. As he held it steady, she drank tepid water from the cup on the other end.

When she was done, the elf covered the bucket again and pushed it to one side. Kerian thanked him. Grimly, he replied, “Don’t be grateful. It’s no mercy to live like this.”

His sympathetic expression was reflected on the faces of the others. Even the dour dwarf was regarding her with pity.

“Who are you?” she said.

“We were free. Now we are slaves,” the elf answered. He lifted his head and sniffed the air. “I can smell the slave market already.”