Fortress Al-Mir

Stone Hearth Burg was a typical example of a walled burg within the Duchy. Three months ago, Arkk would have said that it was quite a large place. That was really only in comparison to Langleey, however. In comparison to most of the burgs he had visited in his travels, it was on the smaller side. One unusual facet of the burg was that almost every building was predominantly made from stone rather than wood. Or a stone-wood mix, generally with a stone foundation and wooden roofs.

The abundance of building material came from the quarry a stone’s toss from the main burg. Allegedly, most of the stone structures within the Duchy, including almost all churches and the majority of Cliff, got their stone from here. With such a chief export, Arkk was a bit surprised at its small size.

“Can we… pet the horses?”

Arkk glanced down in mild surprise as Yavin asked a question. Following the elven boy’s eyes, Arkk found one of the things they had come here for. A short hike outside the burg itself was a large stable with an expansive pasture fenced off from the wilds. Having asked around in town, Arkk had been directed out here. One family owned most of the workhorses that were used in and around the burg. Mostly in the quarry.

“Of course we can,” Hale said, flashing a smile at the elf. She tried to grasp hold of Yavin’s hand but the young elf flinched away from her. Undaunted, Hale took a few steps away and started waving. “Come on!”

“Hold on,” Arkk said. He didn’t want to stop their fun but felt it would be best for them to not be traipsing around someone’s property right before he tried to make any kind of business deal with them. “Let’s see if they have anything for sale first. If they do, you can ride it home. If not, you have to ask the owner first.”

Hale shot him a glare but Arkk shrugged it off. Yavin looked at him as if he forgot that Arkk was there. After a short minute, he simply nodded his head in a slow and hesitant affirmation that he understood, moving back to partially hide behind John.

Arkk tried to hide his sigh. He didn’t know why Yavin was so afraid of him. Was it just that he was new, relatively speaking? Arkk hadn’t done anything to the boy to give cause to that kind of reaction.

Nyala, on the other hand, simply stared straight ahead. Even with the numerous horses grazing and running about in the pasture, she didn’t even blink in their direction. Ilya stood just behind her, looking down at the young elf with a frown on her face.

Arkk shook his head. He wasn’t quite sure why he decided to do this. Mostly to get his mind off the inquisitors and their search. That was a task he could have accomplished doing just about anything else.

Reaching the large door of the manor attached to the main stables, Arkk lifted the large knocker and tapped it down three times.

The man who answered wore a flat cap and brown vest and had a scraggly graying beard. As soon as he stepped into the sun, he narrowed his eyes into thin squints as he looked from Arkk to the others with him.

Arkk quickly explained that he had heard that there might be horses for sale. It didn’t take long to be led out into the stables where a much younger man had a horse’s leg up on a small bench. The farrier was scraping and polishing the horse’s hoof, readying it for a fresh horseshoe. Yavin and Hale both walked a little slower as they moved past.

“I’ve only got one I’m willing to part with at the moment,” the old man said. He let out a loud whistle at the entrance to the pasture. Rather than call the horses, the whistle had one of the stablehands rushing over. After a few words between them, the old man turned back to Arkk. “She’s getting on in age—had ’er since I was a boy—but still has some years left in ’er.”

Arkk looked at the man a second time. If the horse had been around since he was young, that must have been an old horse indeed. “We don’t plan on working her hard. If she can haul a small cart between burgs now and again, that’ll be enough for us.”

The old man bobbed his head up and down in acknowledgment, clasping his hands behind his slightly bowed back. “Lucky you. Some of the boys earlier were thinking about taking her.”

“What changed their minds?”

“Me. Said they were heading into the Cursed Forest.”

Arkk stilled, practically feeling the awkward atmosphere behind him. A quick glance through his Keeper vision showed John and Ilya throwing each other a look. Neither of the two elves reacted. Hale opened her mouth only to be hushed by John.

“Once I ’eard that,” the old man continued, ignorant of the commotion behind him, “I told them all to get lost. They want to get themselves cursed, fool’s on them. Don’t want the poor horses involved.”

“Huh. What… uh… could they be doing in the Cursed Forest?”

“You heard of it?”

“I grew up not far from Smilesville.”

“Then I ’ope you’re smart enough to avoid it. A bunch of church-types from the city convinced a bunch of idiots to go running around inside for a few days. Mostly foreign types. Not locals. Paying well but not well enough if the boys never ’ave a chance to spend it.”

“Huh,” Arkk said again, this time in genuine curiosity rather than an awkward attempt at finding something to say. Nobody in Langleey Village thought much about the Cursed Forest. There were rumors that people who entered would be cursed but most didn’t put much stock in them. He and Ilya had ventured in, a short distance, in their youth and got nothing more than a stern talking-to over it. Abbess Keena had hardly blinked when he mentioned traveling through it… at least until he brought over Vezta.

It made him wonder what kind of superstitions and rumors surrounded the place in the other nearby burgs. Not enough to ask, however. If this guy didn’t want to sell to people involved with the Cursed Forest, he didn’t want to talk about it. That increased the chance that he—or maybe Hale—would let something slip.

Luckily, the stablehand who had run off earlier was on his way back, bringing with him a tall black horse with white stockings up to its knees. Even with some graying hairs, she was still a beautiful horse. Muscular and sturdy. Quite docile as well, not at all fighting the stablehand as he led it over to the stables.

“Clover,” the old man said. “A good horse. Calm and eager to work. Too old to work in the quarry now but should suit your needs.”

Arkk nodded, walking up to the horse from her side. “Hello, Clover,” he said softly. He held out his hand, letting the horse smell him. He gave it a few moments before rubbing the sole white streak from her nose up to the top of her head. Glancing back to John and Yavin, Arkk gave them a small nod of his head as he went over to haggle with the old man.

Yavin and Hale practically rushed up to the horse. Nyala didn’t move, leading to Ilya leaning down to her. “Not interested in horses?”

“No.”

“Don’t even want to try petting it?”

“No.”

Ilya pressed her lips together and shot Arkk a look. He could only give her a shrug before he had to focus on the business.

The old man wanted a few too many silver in Arkk’s opinion. With the size of Al-Mir’s treasury, he didn’t mind but still commented. He probably would have laughed and walked away if he heard the price a few months ago. Now, he just pulled out a pair of gold coins. “If you throw in a proper harness and fresh shoes.”

No longer in direct sun, it was obvious when the old man narrowed his eyes at the coins. He took one, examining it closely. Arkk was well used to the suspicion by now. Hardly anyone walked around with gold coins. Everyone had to test them in their own ways, whether that was biting into them or tossing them into some alchemical potion.

The old man didn’t do more than stare, however. “Where did you say you were from again?”

“I’m Arkk, leader of Company Al-Mir. A free company that does work all over the Duchy. I was born in Langleey Village, however.”

“Al-Mir…” the old man grumbled rolling one of the coins between his fingers. “Sounds familiar.”

“Really?” Arkk stood a little straighter. “Well, that’s great news. We’ve been fairly unknown for a while now but I’ve been taking on some high-profile jobs to try to get our name out there. Was it Silver City? Hope’s Rest?” It felt like those were a bit too recent for word to have spread so far so quickly but then again, they were large jobs. Silver City’s gorgon problem was the highest-value job for months and while he hadn’t turned in Savren, the Hope incident wasn’t far behind.

Rather than answer him, however, the old man just hummed and then clenched his fist around the gold coin. “Well, if this is good, I suppose we can part with her old harness. It’s in fairly good condition.”

“And the shoes?”

“I’ll have Harry take care of those after Goldy,” he said, nodding back down the stables where Arkk had spotted the farrier earlier.

“Excellent. We’ll be back later then.”

The prisoner bond between Arkk and Nyala broke.

It was not a subtle thing.

Walking down Stone Hearth’s market, casually browsing for anything that caught his eye while making his way toward the local garrison, Arkk felt relatively at ease. The inquisitors hadn’t put his name or depiction out for the whole town to see. Nobody cared that he was walking around in the open. Quickly peeking in on Vezta showed nothing alarming either.

All-in-all, visiting the town was a distraction most welcome.

Until the warning bells hammered in the back of his mind. He knew the prisoner bond broke immediately. It was just instinctual. The reason for the breakage was less clear.

With the jolt, Arkk spun around. He made it just in time to see the glint of metal disappear into the sleeve of Nyala’s tunic. Hale and Yavin were off to one side, looking at a vendor’s selection of bolts of cloth. John had his arms crossed, watching the two of them. Ilya was just a step behind Arkk, a step ahead of Nyala.

The young elf didn’t make eye contact with Arkk. She didn’t have any air of defiance anymore. In fact, staring at her, Arkk thought she looked rather nervous all of a sudden.

“Is something wrong?” Ilya asked, noting the way Arkk spun around. She immediately started looking around, though her gaze remained on the crowd and not on the short elf just to her side.

Looking around, Arkk tried to piece together what had just happened. It didn’t take long. The immediate warning combined with the glimmer of light gave him more than enough information to guess that Nyala had just nabbed a knife as they passed by a butcher’s stall. The butcher was distracted with wrapping up a cut of meat in a bit of brown parchment.

Normally, such a butcher would have a large knife or hatchet to chop up his wares for those needing some but Arkk didn’t see any blades on his counter.

The power dynamic changed when she picked up and concealed the weapon. Thus the bond had broken. Probably. He would have to ask Vezta to be certain but, based on what she said earlier, that made the most sense in Arkk’s mind.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Arkk said, glancing back at John. “Mind checking out the cloth they’re looking at? See if any of it looks like something our tailor can use.”

Ilya gave him a flat look that said she knew there was more going on here. She even gave a brief glance to Nyala, who was still avoiding both their gazes. “Sure,” she said after a moment.

As she wandered off, Arkk knelt down. “Nyala,” Arkk said, pulling out his own dagger. “Tell you what. Why don’t we trade?”

The young elf’s eyes went wide as they locked onto Arkk’s blade. The actual blade wasn’t out, sheathed in leather, and the hilt was facing her. That was still enough to make her hands shake. Arkk internally grimaced, wondering if she was taking it as a threat, but outwardly kept his stern look.

“You can keep it,” Arkk said. “If you promise not to try to use it on anyone at the fortress.” He paused, thought, then added, “Without their permission, anyway. Maybe you can find someone to teach you to actually use it. Maybe me, if I can find the time. Or, I’m sure Ilya would be happy to teach you to use a bow.

“Or you can leave. I don’t need you at the fortress. I don’t want a prisoner or someone who feels like they’re a prisoner. I don’t want a slave either. You can walk away. Ilya might be upset but if you don’t want to be there, she can’t really complain. You can even keep the dagger when you walk away. But you can’t keep that knife you stole.”

Nyala’s eyes snapped up to Arkk. “I… can leave?”

“Whenever you want. I’ll even have the cook send you off with a load of food and that gold coin you got should take you far if you’re careful with it.”

“I can go home?”

Arkk shifted. “The place you came from was effectively destroyed. I placed a rather large bounty on the heads of any slavers in the area of Marrowlands Fen but I haven’t heard anything back yet.” Pausing, Arkk tilted his head as he considered. “Actually, has Ilya asked you about your experience yet? Anything you can remember, any locations, landmarks, or even names and appearances of people who took you might help us find more of your people.”

A look of strange confusion came over Nyala’s face. Arkk thought she was merely thinking back, trying to remember things she likely didn’t want to remember. However, she frowned and said, “Marrowlands Fen?”

“Did your people have a different name for it? The large floating reed island was deserted except for a number of bodies when Ilya found it.”

The look of confusion on Nyala’s face didn’t disappear. In fact, Arkk was pretty sure he only made it worse. She even mouthed ‘floating?’ to herself.

“You… aren’t from there, are you?” Arkk said slowly, feeling a spike in tension deep within his chest as he considered the ramifications of that. “Please don’t tell me that Ilya kidnapped you.”

If Ilya had attacked some innocent human who had taken in two elves and then dragged them all the way out here…

No. Both elves, upon arriving at Smilesville, had been covered in bruises and welts. Yavin’s ears had been clipped and Nyala still bore scars around her neck from, Arkk presumed, chains. Ilya might have been capable of misunderstanding a situation and attacked the wrong person, but she wouldn’t have allowed them to come to such harm on the way back. They must have been slaves at one point in time.

Nyala wasn’t answering him. If she was the forthcoming sort, that might have worried him. As it was, he figured she was trying to figure out if she could trust him. However, the butcher was now looking around for his knife. Arkk held out his hand, shooting a pointed look at the butcher’s knife peeking out from her sleeve.

With little more than a small huff, she handed it over. The prisoner bond did not settle back into place, however. Instead, as she snatched the still-offered dagger from Arkk’s other hand, a different, more familiar bond linked them together. The minion bond.

Deciding to think over that later, he quickly handed over the knife to the butcher, claiming that he had dropped it, then rounded up Ilya and the others. Taking them away from the crowded areas of Stone Hearth Burg, Arkk found a quiet corner and rounded on them all with a frown.

“You,” Arkk started, pointing a finger at Yavin, only for the young elf boy to flinch and take up cover behind Hale. Sighing, Arkk closed his eyes. “Sorry. Yavin,” he said, voice soft and gentle. “Did you live on a floating island made from reeds?”

“What is this about?” Ilya asked, crossing her arms as she leaned her weight back on one heel.

“Just making sure we haven’t had any severe communication issues as a result of… everything,” Arkk said with a frown. He shook his head. It might have been prudent to pay a little more attention to the goings on of his fortress. Talking with the prisoners, even if they weren’t really prisoners, should have been high on his list.

“Is that a knife?” Ilya hissed, stepping toward Nyala. The younger elf quickly slammed the blade back into its sheath and tried to hide it behind her back. “Where—”

Arkk stopped Ilya with a hand on her shoulder. He gave a small shake of his head then knelt down and focused on Yavin just as he had with Nyala a few moments ago.

“Yavin, you might not want to think about it, but I need you to answer my questions. Okay? There isn’t a wrong answer and nothing bad will happen no matter what you say. Understand?”

The young boy looked around, first seeking help from Nyala—who was too focused on her new dagger to return his gaze—then to Hale. The latter, giving him a reassuring smile, made him nod his head.

“Okay. You were taken from your home, right? You didn’t want to go to that human’s house where Ilya found you?”

Nonverbally, Yavin again nodded his head.

“Before that, where did you live? Floating islands?”

“Yes,” he answered, voice small. “Eures.”

“Eures. The name of the floating island?”

“Yes.”

Arkk offered the boy a smile. “Thank you,” he said, then turned to Nyala. “You didn’t live on Eures?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Wait,” Ilya said, looking paler than normal. “You didn’t live with that old human… He beat you. I saw…”

Nyala narrowed her eyes and then slowly shook her head. “They took me while I was gathering berries outside…” Her eyes widened and she clamped her jaw shut. “We’re not supposed to talk about Hallow Hill.”

“Hallow Hill. An elf community?” Arkk asked. Nyala clamped her jaw once again, refusing to speak further. Instead, Arkk asked, “When did they take you? Around the same time as Yavin?”

Nyala shook her head. “I was with the Master for a full month before he showed up.”

From the corner of his eye, Arkk watched Yavin flinch, this time moving to position Hale between him and Nyala.

“You aren’t siblings?”

“I thought the Master was replacing me… until I overheard him wanting us to have ‘beautiful elf babies’ that he could raise as his own. Fresh and unspoiled.”

Arkk wrinkled his nose as he glanced between the two elves. Their similar looks were… what, chosen so that their children would have similar-looking kids? He had thought they were siblings but that…

John started grinding his teeth together while Ilya let out a clipped gasp, covering her mouth with her hand. “He didn’t… You didn’t…”

Nyala’s fingers curled tighter around her dagger. Yavin didn’t move. Arkk wasn’t sure that either was an indication of a response. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“Was Hallow Hill attacked when you were taken?” Arkk asked, trying to focus on what he could do, not what had been done. “Are there still people there? Your family?”

Nyala looked at him with a heavy glare. “I’m not about to tell a human about it,” she said with a curled lip.

Arkk slowly stood, nodding his head. “If you were to leave right now, turn and walk away, would you be able to find your way home?”

Nyala’s glare faded as a look of uncertainty came over her. Her eyes darted around the outskirts of the market as if she was trying to figure out exactly where her home might be relative to where she was now. After a moment, she hung her head, staring at her feet.

Arkk let out a sigh. He couldn’t be sure that she didn’t know—she might just be trying to fool him—but he felt it was likely. After having been dragged across the Duchy by Ilya and then taken however far away from her home by slavers, probably without seeing where she was going, it wouldn’t be a surprise to find out that she had no idea where she was in the slightest.

Still, that was a lead on other elf communities. Perhaps somewhere that would take in both Nyala and Yavin. Maybe people who would be interested in helping out with a ritual—or even just tailoring—if it meant helping out Ilya’s mother. Perhaps one of the local garrisons would have information on Hallow Hill. Failing that, maybe someone back in Cliff could point him in the right direction.

Until then… “Let’s get back to the fortress for now.”