In the Shadow of the Storm -Chapter 1-15

Chapter 11

Chapter 11 - Qira

Towards the end of the second week, they began to pass within sight of smaller farms and villages as they drew near Doujiang. As they passed particularly close to one, Qira realised it was impractical to try and skirt all of them, and so drew her hood over her head, telling Lillah to do likewise. Wordlessly, she complied. She did not know exactly where her father had intended her to be taken for refuge, but she did not know where else to go other than the furthest city south in the province, especially considering she had her young sister with her who was, for the moment, helpless.
Qira just needed some time to think, and so decided on trying to enter the city, and find a sympathetic family whom she could hide with, for a little time at least. At the same time however, she wasn’t willing to leave Lillah for too long, and so felt the only option was to bring her sister along with her.

She decided they should attempt to enter just before noon. There would be massive crowds of people entering and leaving the city, and the guards would be disinterested, eager for their lunch. That was what she hoped anyway. They joined the crowds on foot, having left the horses on a long tether near a stream. The guards did little more than scan the throng, and even then they were only looking for their relief. It could not have been more clear that they simply wanted to be out of the sun, dressed as they were in leather and mail. In their hooded cloaks, the pair of them looked fairly innocuous, two more dusty travellers using hoods to provide some shade and respite from the unusually hot sun. In the saddlebags Qira had found a good amount of money so they made their way slowly through the press, towards the less-rough inns nearer the heart of the city.

Qira thought it best to stay slightly off the main street, and so left it as they neared the central square. Eventually she was satisfied that they were enough out of the way, and found a homely-looking inn. She led Lillah inside by the hand and walked to the bar. The interior of the inn was plain, with tables and benches scattered around. The walls were bare stone, and into the one left of the door was set a simple fireplace, with a few broken pieces of blackened wood left from the night before. Men and women alike occupied many of the benches, and serving girls wound their way between the tables carrying drinks and avoiding groping hands with equal skill. The bar itself was well-made, and behind it stood a stocky middle-aged man with greying hair. She immediately recognised the tattoo that showed just the shoulder on his right bicep. Both this, and the fact that the same arm ended in a stump just above the elbow showed that he was an ex-Guardsman, and so would have served her father in the capital in the past. As she approached, he set down the cloth he had been using to clean the bar, and waited expectantly.
“Do you have any rooms? I can pay.” Before the innkeeper could answer, a man to her right sat at the bar butted in.
“I bet you can.” The man’s breath stank of alcohol, and he leered unpleasantly at her, his squashed, predatory eyes looking her up and down from beneath overbearing brows which dominated his face. She ignored him, not even deigning to look in his direction. The innkeeper behind the bar threw a withering look at the man before fixing his attention back on Qira.

“As it happens, I do. Costs three coppers a night. Not much, but it’s a roof and food. And it has a bar.” This with a meaningful glance at the unnamed lecher to his left. He looked at her, and looking into his deep blue eyes, Qira grew slightly uncomfortable. They seemed all too knowing. Before she could speak, he smiled, and it was wondrous to behold. His whole face creased, and it was impossible not to smile back.
“Up the stairs, second on the left.” Qira nodded and again thanked him. She took Lillah once more by the hand and led her up the stairs.
The room, as he had said, wasn’t much. For Qira and Lillah however, who had been sleeping rough for the past two weeks, it was heavenly comfort. The bed was only a single bed, so they would have to share but neither minded this. Despite the fact it was only just after midday, Qira picked up the door bar and dropped it into the brackets. They both then wasted no time peeling off their sweat-stained garments, although Qira had to help her sister. Still she did not speak, only looked mournfully up at her with those brown eyes. They silently curled up on the bed and fell asleep.
***

A tentative knock at the woke Qira with a start. She quickly dressed, and removed the bar. When she opened the door, she found a woman who looked a similar age to the veteran innkeep holding a tray with two bowls of broth and a hard loaf of bread. She accepted the evening meal with a word of thanks, and the woman left. Gently waking Lillah, they sat crosslegged and facing each other on the floor and hungrily devoured the food. When she picked up the bread, Qira noticed a small note.
I know who you are. Stay as long as you need.
Wordlessly, she held it out to her sister who took it and scanned it. She nodded uncertainly, apparently believing the scrawled words. Still she did not speak, and there was barely an expression on her face. Qira turned and smiled sadly.

When she took the tray and the bowls back down to the kitchen, she hugged the grizzled man, taking him completely aback. Once she had composed herself, she began.
“I’ll work for us to stay. I’ll wait tables, whatever you need.”
“That won’t be necessary. Not for you.” He paused, and then came the wonderful smile.
“You look so much like your father. I fought beside him you know, at the Battle of Aesernia at the end of the Schism. He saved my life.”
“I could not possibly stay here for free. I insist.” He was compelled to give in under the force of those earnest, big, brown eyes. After he consented, they talked a while longer, and it turned out he had been Sergeant Aaron of the Guards before he was Aaron the innkeep. He much preferred the later in his advanced years, and the wife and daughters it had brought him.
They talked for about twenty minutes, and Qira grew more confident she knew Aaron’s character afterwards. There was something inherently honourable about him, with a easy smile and a wicked sense of humour. He complained to her about his having all daughters and no son, but even she could tell he would not have traded any of them.
The smiles and laughter in the room died instantly when Aaron asked about why she was here, and why she was staying in an inn and not the hall at the centre of the city.

She tried to tell him, she really did, but the words stuck in her throat. She had no idea how to describe that night of blood and terror. In the end she simply shook her head, a lump forming in her throat. Tears rose in her eyes.
“I...can’t, I just...” Aaron waited patiently, handing her a drink. She gulped it down gratefully, hiding her tears behind the cup. Once she had finished the drink, and her tears had dried, she felt able to talk.
“Lord Nahash betrayed us.” Aaron found her voice disconcertingly emotionless, and after that he did not get anything else out of her considering the events which had brought her to the inn. He understood though, understood that she needed to disappear, to be protected.

The next day he provided her with some clothes more becoming of a serving girl than her grim leathers, and set her to waiting tables. Initially she only worked during the day, among the more sober customers, and away from groping hands, at least for the most part. As a week passed, Qira was then forced to work the evenings, when Aaron was short of help. She quickly became adept at avoiding the drunken advances of many of the inn’s patrons. All except the ugly man she had ignored on that first night.
Every night he took his seat next to the bar, and leered at her the entire time, staring at her unashamedly throughout the time she was working. When she was finished one night, in the early hours of the morning, she slipped upstairs intending to go to bed straight away. The stairs behind her creaked as another guest made his way unsteadily back to his room. Qira thought nothing of it; the room she and Lillah shared was one of eight on this floor.

As she reached the top of the stairs, a heavy hand fell onto her shoulder, and spun her round. It was the ugly, heavy-browed man. He pushed her against one wall with one arm, and put his face close to hers. His eyes were red and bloodshot, and Qira almost gagged at the stench of his breath. She was terrified, but would not let him see her fear, and lifted her chin to meet his gaze. The smell of stale alcohol permeated the space, the man breathing heavily. She could guess what he wanted, though he didn’t speak a word. With barely a hesitation, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. With the wall behind her, she could barely move, but managed to turn her head so that he slobbered on one cheek instead. Drunk as he was, he barely seemed to notice, and Qira struggled to get free. At the same time, she was acutely aware of his other hand, fumbling to find the gap between her blouse and skirt. Qira did not give him a chance.

Driving her knee between his legs, the man suddenly exhaled, blowing a cloud of his noxious breath into her face. Grimacing in distaste, she did it again. As he began to go down, she clumsily swung one fist into the side of his head. With no air in his lungs, and both hands clutching his manhood, there was nothing to stop him crashing down the stairs to lie in a heap against the door to the bar area. It was not a quiet procession, and Aaron appeared at the door quickly. His eyes took in the scene in an instant. Years on the battlefield had made his mind agile, and years running an inn almost single-handed had honed it, so he was able to see and understand in moments. The dark blue pupils took in the form lying crumpled at his feet and then flicked up the stairs to the dishevelled looking Qira, taking in the untucked blouse.
The usually cheerful expression on his face was replaced with one she had not seen before. The lines of his face hardened instantly, as if petrified. The change that had come over him went beyond his face however; something in his demeanour changed, and he exuded menace, despite his stump. Wordlessly he bent down, and grasped the front of the man’s tunic. One-handed he heaved the man upright, and dragged him through the stunned silence of the common room. Reaching the door, he kicked it open and bodily tossed the unfortunate out into the night with a snarled warning never to come back.

He closed the door and, ignoring all questions, returned to the top of the stairs, where Qira was still standing.
“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” The hardness in his features was gone, replaced by deep concern.
Mutely, Qira shook her head. She turned and pushed open the door to her room, closing it quickly behind her and dropping the bar into place. The night was not a good one, with Qira failing to sleep. She kept thinking she could hear the door opening, could smell the man’s breath. She knew it was impossible; the door bar was solidly in place but the thought of him still scared her.
***
Althalos

When Althalos became aware once again, there was only blackness. In his disorientated state, it took him a few moments to realise he was gagged and blindfolded, and someone had plugged his ears with damp cloth. They knew who he was then, and what he was, which meant he was at a substantial disadvantage. He had no idea who had captured him, or why. The chair he was tied to felt of very solid construction, and was heavy besides – there would be no escape.
At last, his captors removed the blindfold. Althalos jerked back as man’s face filled his vision, complete with massively pock-marked cheeks. Then he was gone, moving around behind him and removing the ear-plugs. The difference was not immediately obvious, as it took some time for the water to drain properly.

His senses adjusted to his surroundings, and he could make out earthen walls, possibly even tree roots. There was no entrance within his field of vision, but there was another man leaning against the wall in front of him. Short and stocky, Althalos would have towered over the man and even sitting the two were not far off being eye to eye.

“My name is Jorge, and I am going to ask you some questions. I suggest you answer truthfully, or you and your friends will die one by one.”
That meant they had Tobrecan and Sceotend then. Althalos wasn’t sure what this Jorge wanted, but decided to play along for the time being. He nodded that he understood. Satisfied, Jorge continued.
“What is your name?”
“Althalos.” Surely there was no harm in giving him that.
“Ok, well then Althalos, why are you, an elf, travelling with two soldiers of the Republic?”
“We’re going somewhere.” The answer was deliberately unhelpful, and Jorge realised this. He made no movement, but the pock-marked man came back in front of him and landed a heavy punch in his stomach. Althalos gave an involuntary groan as the air was forcibly expelled from his lungs.
“As you can see, Thom here enjoys his job. Not too bright, but obedient.” Jorge gestured at the big man, who smiled dumbly at Althalos.
“I will ask you again: why?”
“They are my escort.”
“And where are they escorting you?”
“Home.” Jorge wasn’t satisfied by this and nodded to Thom, who lashed out again, sinking his fist into Althalos’ stomach.
“And where is that?”
“East. The other side of the Waste.” This made Jorge’s eyes light up with interest.
“You are going home. What did you come West to do?”
“I can’t tell you that.” This earned him another punch, but this one snapped back his head.
“I can’t tell you, because you won’t believe me.”
“Try me.”
And so the story came out. Haltingly at first, Althalos relayed the tale of the struggle against teh Darkness. Jorge’s eyes widened as he listened, but it was plain he was sceptical.
“I think you should tell this to our commander, see how kindly she takes to it.” Something in his tone suggested that she would not think much of it at all.
“You have to believe me!” Althalos shouted but the man had already gone, disappearing behind Althalos and out of his line of sight. The door opened and then shut quietly, and he was alone. Trying not to think about his predicament too much, Althalos examined the wall he could see. The tree roots implied he was underground, but he had no frame of reference. He didn’t know how long he had been unconscious for and so had no idea how far he could have travelled.

He was spared from further thoughts when the door opened again. With the cold gust of air came cries of pain, unmistakeably those of Sceotend, and Althalos strained to free his good arm, trying to slip the bonds. He only stopped when a woman’s voice came from behind.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” She was softly spoken, whoever she was, but there was more than a little menace in her voice, and Althalos ceased struggling almost immediately.
“Why are you hurting him? What has he done?” The woman took her time closing the door, ensuring he had to listen to the cries for a good while. She took even longer to answer.

“He tried to escape. He nearly killed one of my men.” As she spoke, she walked slowly around the around him, examining him with piercing green eyes, taking in his wrist along with everything else. He returned the inspection as much as he dared, but he had to look away first.
“What do you want with us? Where are we?”Althalos fixed his eyes on his knees as he spoke, slighlt afraid of the willpower he had seen in her gaze. She would find out everything she wanted to know, no matter how long it took.
“What I want is, to know why you are travelling with two Laternas scum. After that you will all die. You have been found guilty of rape, all three of you.” She spoke with a calm detachment, as if she were commenting on the weather.
“Rape? No we didn’t – we saved them. Ask the girls, ask the villagers.” The vehemence of his defence seemed to knock her slightly off balance, though she recovered quickly.

“Very well. I shall review your case, dependent on what you tell me.” Her voice was just as cold as it had been when she replied, but Althalos realised she was giving him a chance.
“We are travelling south to find a ship. They are escorting me back to my home. I am not as...useful as I once was.” He tried to raise his mangled wrist but was restrained by the thick ropes.
“Ah yes, you are going east. Why now?” Her eyes blazed with an emerald fire, and their intensity compelled him to answer her, carry on talking.
“The Darkness is coming. It is descending over our lands now, but it will soon be here. We cannot hold it back alone. I was sent to gather help. Instead I became little more than a slave to the Lancers.” As he finished, she spat on the floor at the mention of the Lancers, which surprised Althalos. The woman was nothing like any other he had ever met. Dressed in a loose-fitting blouse and baggy trousers, he could nonetheless easily tell she was a woman by the large swell of his chest, and the distinctly feminine features of her face.

“So why are you travelling with them if they enslaved you?”
“They aren’t Lancers. Both of them are from the opposing faction: the Royal Crossbowmen.” Althalos could see that she was genuinely interested in his story, and he wondered if she might actually believe him.  The woman snorted at his answer, uncaring of the distinction.
“Never heard of a Laternae crossbowman before. What of the Darkness? What exactly is it?”
“Errr...no one really knows, except that it corrupts all that it touches, and it controls vast armies of which we have only faced the smallest fraction. We only stand a chance of defeating its armies if we stand together.” The change of topic had caught Althalos off guard, causing him to hesitate, and then attempt to over-compensate. As such he gabbled his answer, which caused a smile to slide onto the woman’s face. It completely changed the way she looked, and eradicated all traces of the woman who had been ready to order his death mere moments ago.
“Assuming I believe you, why were you with those women?”
“Bandits attacked a village we were staying in and rode off with them. We went after them, and the two Crossbowmen punished them.” Althalos shivered, wondering how many of them were still alive.
“Very well, you have convinced me, both of your innocence and your tale.” She walked to the door and banged on it twice.
“We will stand with your kin, on one condition. You must secure our western border. Go into the Toscene Expanse and negotiate an alliance on our behalf. As an elf, your might know the land better than any of us. If you are searching for allies, they would be a good one to have by all accounts.” With that she banged on the door once again, and it opened.
“Wait, what is your name?”
“Sophia.”
***
Qira

The next day, Qira did not rise to work her daytime shift. No one came to fetch her either, and she presumed this was Aaron’s doing. As the day crawled by, and the room grew darker as the sun went down, Qira realised she was growing hungry. Even then she couldn’t quite drag herself out of bed. She was unsure why she was so lethargic. In her mind she was angry. Angry at the man for trying, angry at herself for letting her guard down, and even slightly angry at Aaron for it happening at all. The last was slightly unfair, she knew, but this did not stop her ignoring the brisk, left-handed knock at the door.
The knock came again, slightly more insistent this time, and still she ignored it, hoping he would leave.
“Qira, please open the door.” The tone was low and worried, perhaps even a little scared. The sound of it coming from Aaron’s mouth was unnerving, and it stirred something in her memory. She had heard this tone before and as such, knew exactly what to do.

All signs of lethargy banished, she got up, dressing not in her usual loose-fitting blouse and skirt, but rather the leathers she had not touched for weeks. When she was dressed, she buckled on the belt with her knife, and answered the door. The bar had been removed when Lillah had gone for food earlier, and Qira had been lying in bed with her knife clutched tightly in one hand.
When she swung open the door, there was Aaron as expected, with Lillah standing at his side, fully dressed and carrying a small pack. Qira was struck by the change that had come over the man. He was dressed in rough leather armour of a similar style to her own, and had a sword strapped to his right hip. Though she knew he had a different side –a side that could be strong and menacing- it was hard to reconcile what she saw before her with the man she had come to love over the past few weeks.
Gone was the easy smile, gone was the slight twinkle in his eye. Now they were cold, and looking into his eyes was like the depths of Cantari winter.

“We have to go. That idiot ____ reported you two to the Watch, and Nahash’s son was seen riding through the north gate at midday with an escort of fifty men from the capital. They are coming here.”
Qira shuddered as she remembered the youth. It was like a nightmare. No, not a nightmare, that night. It was like that night. She felt so vulnerable without her bow. Her hand dropped to the knife at her side, for all the good that would do them. Aaron saw the motion and shook his head.
“No, there are too many. We are heading for the east gate. They will expect you to run south, straight to Laternas. You need to go east, to the Waste. They won’t follow you there. Skirt the edge and follow it south. If you can, try to reach Saphrax.”
Qira nodded, her mind racing. Saphrax was the furthest country south, and was effectively a protectorate of Laternas. It was also about as far away as it was possible to be from Cantar, and Nahash. Due to the poor relations between Cantar and the Republic, it was unlikely his influence would be able to reach her.

In all likelihood, the horses were now gone; escaped or stolen, but the bows should still be fire. Before they had left, Qira had unstrung them both and, along with the quivers of arrows, had wrapped them in a blanket and stowed them in a hollow log. They at least were hopefully undamaged.
The trio descended the stairs and emerged into the empty common room. Aaron’s wife  had finished shooing disgruntled patrons out some time ago, but they still took the rear exit, emerging on to a dark back street. It was there in the back streets they remained, Aaron being unwilling to take unnecessary risks, and soon enough they were standing within sight of the gate. A single guard patrolled along the top of the wall, and the gates were mercifully open.
“I cannot come with you, but I will watch to make sure you get clear.”
“Thank you. For everything. Your kindness will not be forgotten.”
Aaron returned the solemn gaze.
“M’lady, it was an honour. Now quickly, go.” With a gentle push, he set them both on their way. The sisters walked calmly across the open space, though every one of Qira’s instincts screamed at her to run. She was far more comfortable in enclosed spaces, and hated the fields of southern Cantar, far preferring the rugged terrain north of Doujiang. If the guard even noticed them, he did not think anything of them. They were allowed to walk through the gates unchallenged, and disappear heading northeast into the gathering twilight.
As suspected, the horses were gone but thankfully the bows and provisions were not. Aaron had given both enough provisions to last them four weeks which would hopefully see them a good distance, and Qira still had a fair amount of coin.
***