“She’ll bring many soldiers, Great Lord,” said one of the camouflaged elves, the tarnished silver torque around his neck the only sign of rank.
“I hope so, Nalaryn.”
Porthios pushed back his hood. Despite the warming temperature, he did not remove the mask. “The more force our young whelp brings here, the better for my plan.”
Nalaryn whistled, drawing more green phantoms from the woods. They set to cleaning the site, removing every item left by the Nerakans. In part, it was to preserve an air of mystery, to deny the enemy clues to their methods, but it also served to supplement their own stores. Every scrap of metal and leather was precious.
“How are the prisoners?” Porthios asked.
“Cowed, Great Lord.”
Porthios followed the Kagonesti chief into the brush. Twenty yards off the north road, they came upon seven Nerakan soldiers, bound hand and foot, sitting in the undergrowth. All were blindfolded. The knight’s fine horse was tied nearby, another green-camouflaged Kagonesti standing by its head.
“Who is senior here?” Porthios asked. One soldier grunted through his gag. At Porthios’s nod, he was hauled to his feet and the gag and blindfold removed. Porthios asked his name and rank.
“Jeralund of Werim, sergeant of the garrison of Alderhelm.”
“You should have stayed in Ergoth, Sergeant,” Porthios said. “Your lives have been spared, but if any one of you offers the slightest resistance, all will be slain. Do you understand? If one of you errs, all will suffer.”
The sergeant nodded. “What do you intend? None of us has rank enough to be ransomed.”
“I’m not after ransom, but I do expect to turn a profit on you. We are going to Bianost, called by the scum who infest it ‘Samustal.’”
“What’s in Samustal?” Jeralund asked before his gag was restored.
“A great many evils, including, unfortunately for you, a slave market.”
The captives were hauled to their feet and their blindfolds removed. Each man’s bound wrists were joined to those of the man behind and before by vines, then the group was led out of the morning-bright clearing and into the shadowed forest. Their Kagonesti captors were each armed with along, willowy spear, stone-headed maul, or light bow. Several had metal daggers gleaned from captured Nerakans. Most sported necklaces of goblin teeth. Some were female, although the distinction was difficult to make, what with the face paint, long hair, and lean physiques.
Since his fateful encounter in the forest, Porthios had begun putting into action the lessons the god had imparted. The most difficult part had been making contact with the elusive Wilder elves. They avoided Silvanesti and Qualinesti alike, regarding their city-dwelling cousins as arrogant, effete, and nearly as treacherous as humans.
Many Kagonesti had spurned him, calling him a soulless ghost who would lead them to ruin. Then he met Nalaryn. A former scout for the Qualinesti army, Nalaryn was more worldly than his fellows. When Porthios explained his purpose, Nalaryn readily agreed to join in. That had been the first step forward on Porthios’s long journey.
Twenty-three of Nalaryn’s clan, fourteen males and nine females, had followed their chief. They made up Porthios’s small army.
There were few greater horrors for elves than bondage. Samuval had declared all free elves in Qualinesti to be rebels, condemning them to slavery whenever and wherever they could be captured. Several slave markets had sprung up. One of the largest was in the town of Bianost, which the invaders called Samustal. The town was ruled by one of Samuval’s most ruthless lieutenants, Olin Man-Daleth, who styled himself Lord Olin.
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.