The Warrior Ch. 05

Allorah flushed, but replied smoothly, "An interesting contradiction, are we not?"

"Most certainly." His green cat-eyes watched her in amusement.

They sat in silence for a time until he glanced pointedly toward the platter in front of her. "You are not eating."

Allorah sighed. "Are all dragons so domineering?" She glanced at him in mock-annoyance, attempting to be casual with the reference to how different he was from her.

He smiled broadly and retorted, "Only when placed in charge of large numbers of humans."

"How is that going, by the by?"

"They try." He shrugged. "But the ways of War do not come naturally to them."

"Will they be able to adapt?" Allorah's fingers tightened around her cup anxiously.

"In time, I believe so."

But did they have that time? That was the prevailing problem: there was never enough time for what needed to be done. She supposed that was so with all of life, but now, with the war on their doorstep, it seemed to be proving more true than ever.

Suddenly she pushed back her chair and stood. She needed to do something productive. "Are you finished eating?" She asked, and at his nod, began gathering to the items on the table to store and wash as needed.

Allorah finished quickly then walked with him out of the house and down the long, coiling ramp to the village below. The clear air heralded another lovely day, with a light breeze that made the leaves all around dance and sparkle in the morning sun. As the morning dew dried, it left a pleasant, green smell to linger.

Allorah surveyed the villagers going about their errands among the intricate network of trees and walkways, though she noted sadly that there were still a great deal fewer individuals on the ground than was usual for this time of day. She reminded herself that a few was better than none, in any case, and wondered if Varyn's efforts with the Hunters might not be responsible for this small improvement.

As they reached the bottom of the ramp, Varyn stopped and faced her. "You will be in the infirmary again?"

"For a time, at least. Though there are other matters I must attend to also, and soon." She restrained a sigh.

"I see. Then likely I shall see you at the fire tonight."

"Yes." Allorah attempted to keep the disappointment from her voice; given both of their duties, they could hardly spend all their time together.

The corner of his mouth turned up very slightly at her tone and he reached out again, tracing the line of her jaw. She shivered at the pleasant tingle of his touch. "Until then," he said and dropped his hand.

"Until then."

He turned, and she watched him stroll away, all sleek, silver elegance and power. She gave one last composing exhalation and went in the opposite direction to begin her own tasks.

The makeshift hospital was crowded, but thankfully less so than in recent months, a fact which she attributed largely to the nighttime rout by Varyn and the resultant pause in skirmishes between the two sides. Most of the noise now had to do with the recovering men, many healed enough to remember their boredom and restlessness. While deeply relieved at the progress, Allorah was now presented with the new challenge of coaxing them to patience, as many of their wounds were still too unstable to allow them out of the sight of the now well-practiced healers. She worried that if released to their own homes and devices, they would unwittingly push themselves to further injury or sickness out of eagerness to return to the protection of the island.

All in all, however, the mood of the room was a significant improvement, and the majority of her patients seemed well on their way to full recoveries. There were still some who showed little or no improvement, but Allorah yet held out hope for their convalescence, and dutifully went about changing bandages and feeding broth —often laced with medicinal herbs— with a silent prayer to the Gods for each of them.

She was in the process of preparing another salve for a nasty thigh-wound, when a young Hunter named Eebek approached her deferentially. He was a few years her junior, and had only recently been initiated as a proper Hunter, but his training showed in the silence of his footfalls.

"Priestess Allorah?"

"Yes?" She looked up from her task at him. In the back of her mind, she wondered at how she seemed to have adopted the title of Priestess without any official ceremony; everyone seemed to have begun referring to her as such of late, and apparently thought nothing unusual of it. Quickly though, she marshaled her attention back to the young man in front of her.

"I've been asked if you would be available to assist us with something."

"Who is 'us?'" She queried, wiping her hands on a cloth.

"The Hunters," he replied then added a little hesitantly, "We thought you might be able to help us communicate with the prisoner."

She looked Eebek sharply in surprise; since the prisoner's delivery by Varyn the day before, she had heard no more on the matter and hadn't expected to, except perhaps in the later context of some new information about the enemy. Her brows knit together as she considered what he said before she asked, "Do you know who suggested me for the task?"

The boy looked slightly puzzled in turn, but answered, "Um, it was the Warrior, Priestess. We presented the problem to him first, but he said that you would likely be the best one among us for communicating. He said he was much better at capturing prisoners than talking with them." Belatedly, Eebek seemed to realize that he had perhaps conveyed more than she was asking and he closed his mouth tightly.

Allorah pressed her own lips together to hide a smile, not wanting to embarrass him. Such a thing certainly sounded like Varyn, but she was still confused as to why he thought her best for the task. True, she had studied and had an affinity for the ancient tongues as recorded in the oldest scrolls, but he had no way of knowing that, as far as she was aware. Still, it wouldn't hurt to try, and perhaps Varyn knew something she did not. She nodded to the young Hunter.

"I will finish my rounds here, and then make an attempt. Will you send a Hunter to the easterly kitchen to guide me to where the prisoner is being kept, and to inform me on what we know so far?"

"Yes, Priestess. And thank you." The boy gave a bow and turned to hurry away with her answer, looking relieved. Allorah looked after him as he went, wondering what exactly she was getting into.

***

"Allorah... I don't think this is a good idea."

She looked up from the tray of items she was assembling to find Geldan regarding her with a frown, his dark grey eyes anxious. She let out a quiet sigh and turned to pour steaming liquid into a small bowl. Carefully placing it on the tray, she cast an eye over the contents: bread, a bowl of broth, folded squares of cloth and a gourd of clear rainwater. Satisfied, she picked up the tray and turned to face Geldan again.

"You have already expressed your concern, Hunter, and I have taken that into account. Still, this must be done." She began walking to the door, but Geldan stepped in front of her.

"Yes, but by you?" His frown deepened. "The man is dangerous, Allorah."

"I am aware." She replied calmly. When he made no sign of moving, she sighed again and adopted a sterner tone. "Let me pass, Geldan."

His jaw tightened in frustration, but he stepped aside and she swept smoothly out the door. He apparently wasn't finished, however, and fell into step beside her as she made her way along the wooden pathway.

The breeze from earlier had gathered strength and grown to a playful wind that tugged at her skirts as she walked and teased some of her sable curls from the confines of her braid. It carried on it the rich suggestions of summer and the fresh aroma of warm leaves. The trees swayed subtly to its rhythm, and the buildings and bridges with them. The comforting creak of rope and wood filled her ears.

"Why, though, do you need to be in there alone with him? If something should happen—"

"We have been through this!" Allorah snapped, her patience wearing thin after half an hour of such objections. "You and the other Hunters already tried interrogating him, and have nothing to show for it. Even the little he apparently said is useless, for it is in another language altogether!"

She pressed her lips together and drew a calming breath through her nose, attempting to make her tone even and reasonable once again. "I must be there alone so that I can gain some measure of his trust. You know as well as I that he will not speak while you or any other Hunter is present. And it must be me because no other in the village has the same knowledge of languages as I do. I am the only one who can perhaps grasp his language quickly enough to be of any use to us. You know this." That, and Varyn had, for some reason recommended her. She did not yet know why, but she felt compelled to trust his lead.

"I do," he muttered reluctantly, though his expression remained frustrated.

They continued along the network of suspended paths until they reached the entrance to what was once an old set of storerooms, but had since been hastily converted to a basic sort of prison. Though not ideal, it had been determined the best place to serve the purpose, both for being far enough out of the way of the majority of the homes, and for having a single entrance and tough walls, most of which were the tree itself. Allorah noted the sturdiness of the outer door upon passing through, and that a thick bolt had been newly fitted to one of the doors leading further into the building. The few windows let in minimal light at this time of day, so a torch had been lit to illuminate the outer chamber where a guard sat vigilantly on the single piece of furniture in the room: a plain wooden bench.

Allorah paused outside of the door to the makeshift cell. The Hunter on guard next to it stood and nodded his head respectfully at her, then at Geldan. Nodding back at him, she braced the tray against one hip and reached up with her other hand to brush the escaped tendrils of hair out of her eyes.

"I'm ready." She said.

"You need only call if you need any assistance," the Hunter reminded her as he reached over to unbolt the door and grasp the handle.

"I will remain here as well." Geldan declared, his tone forceful. "If he gives you any trouble at all—"

"I will call." Allorah finished for him. "You may open the door, Hunter." The guard nodded again, and pulled the door open enough for her to step through.

As it swung closed again, Allorah paused to let her eyes adjust to the sudden gloom. The one window had been covered with a thick piece of cloth, perhaps to keep its occupant disoriented as to the time of day, or just enhance the feeling of isolation. Still, she knew better than to fumble around blindly, so she waited until she could see enough of the room to find her way safely to the window. Carefully setting the tray on the floor, she felt for the edges of the crude drapery before drawing it up and tucking it out of the way. She blinked rapidly in the sudden light for a moment before turning back to the man seated in the center of the room.

He squinted in her direction, his face distorted with hatred and the beatings he had received at the hands of her kinsmen, his pale yellow hair matted with sweat, and on one side, blood. His wrists were bound tightly with rope that kept them extended to either side of him, fastened as they were to stakes pounded solidly into the floor. His ankles were likewise bound in front of him so that he sat with knees bent and arms open. He had enough slack in his bonds to shift his limbs a few inches in either direction, but not to lay down, and as he was in the middle of the room, he couldn't even seek respite by leaning back against the wall. Nor, Allorah realized, would he be able to bring his hands to his mouth to feed himself.

She took a few steps to the side so that her back was no longer directly in the light and returned his stare impassively, waiting for him to be able to see her properly before making any further movement. It was apparent enough when the moment came: his eyes first widened in surprise, then narrowed again as his mouth twisted in scorn. He turned his face away, scoffing, and spat on the floor.

Allorah waited.

He kept his face averted as the steam from the broth slowly dissipated and disappeared and the wind outside made the smaller branches bob and sway. His eyes remained stubbornly on a knothole in the wood of the wall as she sat down next to the tray and continued watching him silently. He even managed to ignore her when she picked up the gourd of water and took a small sip, setting it down again on the tray when she was finished. Still, he remained silent, and still, she waited.

At last, his patience came to an end.

"Rjork granash mil freetha!" He finally snapped. "Janad viir vind."

"I cannot understand you," she replied mildly. "Not yet. You will have to speak slowly."

He sneered at her, the hostility in the lines of his face tempered only by his contempt. She did not rise to the gesture, instead waiting again for him to make another concession.

"Feh." He scoffed again. "Rameeth grah mjorled." He let out a disgusted sigh then looked at the tray, scowling. "Janad viir vind."

She followed his gaze to the tray, then pointed to the bread. "This?" She asked, watching his face.

"Ne!" He said, frustrated. "Mjelka ket breetha..." He jerked his head in the direction of the tray again, saying vehemently, "Viir vind!"

Allorah moved her finger slowly over the tray to point at the water gourd instead, asking this time, "Water? Viir vind?"

"Vind! Va!" He said in the long-suffering tones of someone talking to a simpleton who has finally caught on. Then, when she didn't move quickly enough, he added, "Gornind mil kort lesh!"

Allorah picked up the gourd, rising slowly. His pale eyes followed her impatiently as she walked to stand a few feet in front of him, well out of his reach but closer than she had been before. She waggled the gourd between her fingers slowly, hearing the water slosh around inside, and met his impatient stare calmly.

"I will give you water, vind," she told him, "But I will not untie you. You must remain still when I approach, or I will call for my kinsmen and you will have no water. Ne vind. You understand?"

He did not. His eyes narrowed and he looked at her warily then at the water in her hand. "Ril lorl vet. Janad viir vind." His shoulders gave a shrug.

Allorah decided to switch tactics. She pointed to him, then made a "stop," gesture to him with her free hand. She pointed to the gourd, pointed at her mouth, then at him, and mimed pouring water. Her eyebrows raised in question.

"Va, va." He said, nodding quickly, "Viir vind!"

Drawing a quiet breath, Allorah stepped forward slowly until she stood at his side, close enough to touch him. Or for him to touch her, if he so chose. But he remained still, only tilting his head back to stare at her with eyes slightly narrowed, wary and assessing. She opened her mouth and pointed, indicating he should open his own. When he complied, she slowly tipped the gourd to poor the clear liquid into his mouth, careful to give him only so much as he could drink without trouble.

He swallowed greedily, drinking as though he'd not in days, which, she remembered, might not be too far from the truth. When she had emptied about three quarters of the gourd, she stepped back again and he scowled.

"Vrameeth kol magronesh? Ki meth jorkol!"

She ignored his outburst, instead moving back to the tray and returning with the bread and broth. When he saw what she held in her hands, he quieted, though he still watched her cautiously. They went through much the same process as he devoured both broth and bread.

Allorah noted, as she went about her task, that though he wore a full beard, as yellow as the rest of his hair, and small wrinkles fanned from the corners of his pale blue eyes, the rest of his skin was unlined by the passage of time. In her estimation, he couldn't be more than five and twenty years of age. Her mouth tightened as she remembered that apparently twenty-five years was all it took to kill enough of her people to achieve an officer's rank.

Finished, she stepped back again, and returned to the tray once more. With her back to him, she wetted a corner of one of the cloths with some of the remaining water before approaching him with it. He squinted at her suspiciously, a frown making his brow crease unevenly, thanks to the significant swelling around one of his eyes. Allorah thought she'd begin by wiping away some of the dried blood around that area.

His reaction when she touched him, however, was not what she'd expected.

"Vra griinid meer ket!" He jerked away from her fingers as if burned, his expression a wild mixture of disgust and something else. If Allorah didn't know any better, she almost would have thought it was fear she saw in his pale eyes. "Miik jork lek mish, kol shek!"

Her eyebrows raised in surprise at the vehemence of his reaction. When he showed no sign of calming, she slowly lowered her hand with the cloth and stepped away, smoothing her face back to impassivity. She spent one more moment examining him, his shoulders hunched up protectively, his eyes hateful slits of suspicion, then she shrugged. Curious. But if he didn't want her to clean his wounds, she wouldn't press it.

It was a quick matter to stack all the items she had brought with her back onto the tray for easy carrying, and to let the cloth over the window fall back into place. Though she would have rather left it open for the light, she was concerned that when it grew dark, the chill from the draft would work unfortunate effects on the room's occupant, and she was not interested in having to nurse him back to health from a cold-induced fever. She would do what was necessary, but the less time she had to spend in his company, the better.

Since she had a better sense of the lay of the room this time, she simply made her way along the walls, feeling with her hand, until her palm bumped against the handle of the door. Allorah raised her hand and rapped softly against the wood twice.

"I am finished," she called through.

Immediately, she heard the sound of the bolt being drawn back, and the door swung open to reveal Geldan waiting for her anxiously.

"Are you all right?" He took her elbow and drew her forward while the other guard shut and bolted the door behind her. "I heard him shouting..."

"I'm fine," she replied distractedly. What would make him react so to simple medical attention? And hardly any attention at that; she'd barely touched him before he started making a fuss.

Geldan regarded her with a worried frown. "You are sure?"

"Mm?" She asked, finally looking up at him with her full attention. "Oh. Yes. I'm quite all right."

He didn't seem convinced. "...He didn't try anything, did—?"

"He was tied to the floor, Geldan," she reminded him wryly. "The worst he did, the worst he could do, was curse at me."

The Hunter blinked in surprise. "He cursed? You can tell that already?"

Allorah gave a tight smile. "There are certain tones a man uses only when cursing. I don't need to know the language to be able to tell that."

"Oh."

A glance outside told her by the angle of the shadows that it was already afternoon. Hours spent in that room, and very little to show for it. "It will take time," she said aloud, as much remind herself as to inform him.