The Elfmaid's Curse (The Elfmaid Trilogy Book 1) (24 page)

            Leaving him naked and unconscious, she climbed back down to the alley. She found it empty, save for a mangy yellow dog sniffing through trash piles. It was noticeably darker than when she first entered. She estimated less than half an hour of daylight, then she'd be trapped for the night. Not a pleasant prospect.

            "Now to find a horse," she mumbled, slipping the heavy scimitar under her belt.

            She found the street still crowded, but now she barely rated a second look. Though swordwomen weren't uncommon even in the Desert Kingdoms, the sight of exposed hair and unveiled women usually caught the locals attention. Sometimes even the notoriously defiant Tyrians donned veils and kaffiyehs in desert cities to avoid hassles. Only Samulla was at war and unveiled mercenaries were common enough for her to pass without drawing undue attention.

            Danica kept her eyes open for an unattended horse as she headed towards the Lion Gate in the west wall. After several minutes, she decide the street she was on was too narrow and out of the way for horseback riders. She began looking for a way back to the boulevard.

            Spying an alley, she began threading her way through the late afternoon crowd. The poor farmers, small time merchants, and other hawkers lining the streets were already beginning to pack their merchandise for the day. Some had carts, while most carried their wares bundled up in blankets. Either way, they wanted to be off the street before dark. Night came fast in the desert, and Samulla after dark wasn't a good place to walk the streets.

            She soon found herself standing at the edge of the bustling crowds of the Seven Heroes Boulevard. It twisted its way up from the Lion Gate to the sprawling, golden-domed Rasheed Palace. Outwardly, the palace with its arabesque arches, arcades, and windows was the most beautiful Danica had ever seen, though Amazons were quick to point out it paled in comparison to the palace in Dahlys. Of course, Amazons thought everything in their empire was bigger, better, and more beautiful.

            Almost immediately she located some mounts. They were left in front of an inn. There were six of them, and their size and harness declared them Jarland destriers. A breed she was more than adequately familiar with.

            "A godsend if I ever saw one." She smiled, admiring a great golden-colored unicorn stallion, resplendent in crimson caparison and tack. "A unicorn."

            He was much larger than a normal unicorn, so she figured he was a cross between a unicorn and a horse. A cross between the large, and quite aggressive, Forest Unicorn of the Jarlands and a large destrier mare produced the most prized of war mounts. They were as fierce as the warriors who rode them.

            The huge stallion looked to be just such a crossbreed. Looking at him, she felt a twinge of regret that the offspring of horses and unicorns, both male and female, were sterile. A man could get rich breeding them otherwise. As it was, very few were produced since unicorns rarely survived long in captivity. Unicorn mares rarely conceive in captivity, and wouldn't live long enough to take it to term anyway, and stallions tended to detest the mere presence of horses.

            Walking up to the magnificent beast, she stopped to run a hand over his withers and muttered soothing words. He rolled his eyes at her, but remained silent. She checked his condition to ensure she didn't make the mistake of stealing an exhausted or injured mount. Once assured of the unicorn's excellent health and well-rested state, she checked under his mane for the crossed sword brand of war training. Then she began scratching him at the base of his two foot long horn. The stallion shuddered with pleasure.

            "Good boy, my magnificent beauty," she purred soothingly, eyes sparkling in awe and admiration. "We're going for a little ride."

            After ensuring no one was paying her any heed, she untied his reins and swung up into the saddle. She eased him out into the press of the crowds, noting how everyone made way with looks of wonder. Everyone was so caught up in the beauty of the animal, they failed to notice the tattered clothes of the rider.

            She kicked him into a canter and grinned at all the people scrambling to get out of the way. It might bring attention to herself, but she didn't want anyone getting too long of a look. Someone might question why such a ratty looking woman was riding such a splendid mount. Questions she couldn't answer. Besides, the gates would be closing soon and she needed to be well away before then.

            A small group of urchins ran across the street in front of her, startling the unicorn. She reined in just before trampling the small dark-haired girl trailing far behind. For a split second woman and child stared at each in other in shock. The girl then smiled and ran off after the others.

            "Kids," she snorted. "Almost got herself killed and can only smile about it. They all think they're immortal."

            She glanced up at the massive twin towers of the Lion Gate soaring above the surrounding structures. They were visible long before she reached the bazaar the gate opened into. Even from that distance she could make out the unique crenellation. Each merlon was carved into the likeness of a sitting lion facing outward.

            Before she could move, a group of shuffling pilgrims, chanting prayers to Laures, Goddess of Hearth and Home, and Queen of the Arisen Gods, blocked her path. They were led by priests in their green and gold robes. She was resolved to wait impatiently, but when a bugle sounded at the Lion Gate, warning everyone interested that the gate would be closed shortly, she tried to push her way through. That brought an intense blast of threats and curses from priest and pilgrim alike. She quickly ceased her efforts, fidgeting in the saddle as she studied the settling darkness around her. The knowledge that the bugle sounded only minutes before sunset and the lowering of the gate to allow the last travelers to hurry in only agitated her already frayed nerves.

            But it was never a good idea to anger the priests of any God. Priests were given magical powers by their God. And depending on the rank of the cleric, he or she could be as powerful as an Arch Mage. She decided to wait for them to shuffle out of the way.

            Once the pilgrims had passed, she kicked her mount forward and headed for the nearby gate. When the gate was lowered the City Guard would announce it with bugles again. That hadn't happened yet, so she still had a chance.

            She found the now darkened bazaar packed, and getting worse as more travelers pushed their way in through the gate. There were inns outside, but they couldn't offer the safety the city walls did. Besides, most people would feel justifiably uncomfortable around all the boisterous soldiers bivouacked out there.

            In addition to all the travelers, the last diehard hawkers were out in force. Their cries grated on her nerves as people jostled her and her mount in their efforts to escape the press. Everywhere urchins darted through the crowds, probably stealing purses and such.

            Looking through the gate, she could see the end of the line of travelers approaching. She knew the City Guard would close the gate as soon as the last one entered. It wouldn't be long, either.

            "Damn them all," she cursed, angrily urging her mount through the crowds.

            Suddenly the same small girl she had almost trampled earlier stepped up beside her and smiled. Danica flashed a smile back and began trying to force her way through the crowd again; it wasn't going well. She was travelling against the current.

            Then her left foot was yanked from the stirrup and the boot pulled off, revealing the wide silver slave bracelet.

            "It's the elf slave!" the girl cried, pointing at Danica.

            "Little brat!" she said angrily, then spotted a large group of older street urchins coming towards her. Pulling her scimitar, she brandished it wildly and shouted, "Make way!"

            The bugler atop one of the towers sounded the gate closing. She looked up in horror as the portcullis began its slow descent. People were still running through both ways. She kicked the unicorn again, harder.

            Her left leg was grabbed again, this time by a boy in his late teens. She punched him in the face and tried to ride on, but another teen, a filthy looking girl with black matted hair, grabbed her by the belt on the other side. By this time the Unicorn destrier had decided they were in battle. He kicked out to the rear, then reared up and screamed his defiance.

            Danica was taken by surprise and clung onto the saddle horn desperately, with the girl hanging onto her. When the destrier dropped back down to all fours, two more urchins grabbed Danica. Then as the stolen mount leapt forward, screaming shrilly, she was jerked from the saddle.

            "Glorious Gods!" she cried and grabbed the stallion's long tail as it raced away through the terrified crowd.

            Being dragged across the cobbles at dizzying speeds, Danica fought to hang onto her only chance at escape. She could feel the rough horseshoe chipped cobbles through her worn breeches, thanking the Gods that they were so thick and prayed they held a bit longer. The people scrambled out of the enraged beast's way, allowing it to run straight to the gate and out just before the portcullis boomed shut for the night.

Chapter 12

            Feeling her fingers slipping from the Unicorn's long tail, "Whoa! Whoa, boy!"

            The stallion did stop, but only to kick back at her. Releasing its tail, she then ducked under the lethal kick known to cave men's chests in even through thick armor. Rolling away, she cursed her rotten luck as the Unicorn raced away through a chorus of shouts to be lost in the night and thick press of mercenaries. As soon as he stopped some lucky dog would seize him and sell him for a bloody fortune. Which is exactly what Danica had intended to do. With what she got from the unicorn's sale she could've bought all new clothes, a more suitable mount, and a pack beast, and still have coin left over to buy food and lodgings for the twelve hundred mile trip to Ismat al-Haratha. Better yet, she could have bought a warhawk and made the trip within days. Well, at least she still had the bejeweled scimitar and the silver slave bracelet around her ankle was pure silver. Worth more than most commoners made in three months.

            Slipping into the nightshadows of a ramshackle timber and mud building, she set to work cutting off the hated slave bracelet. The thin silver parted easily before the scimitar's fine sharp steel. With the bracelet off, she found a pair of largish rocks and started pounding the thin silver while folding it repeatedly, until it was reduced to nothing more than a crude square no bigger than a crown silver and worth even more. Slipping the silver piece under her belt, she stepped back into the crowded street.

            It was full night now, the sudden desert sunset gone. Danica glanced back at the dark looming city walls a hundred paces back, glad to have at least escaped the fate of being trapped inside them. She seriously doubted even the el'Lacir would bother pursuing her now, if the urchins even told them she escaped the city. Knowing the wild street urchins, they would just shrug and go about their business of mischief making and survival. The Jordani had made a profit off her, so would be heading back without much thought or concern for her fate.

            The makeshift shanty town that sprung up outside Samulla's walls to service the needs of some ten thousand mercenaries was another problem. There seemed to be little or no organization or plan to its layout or governing. Wild packs of bored and drunk mercenaries roamed about singing and starting fights. Eager-eyed merchants tried to sell them worthless trinkets for obscenely high prices on the streets, while others sat in dark, ramshackle shacks and bought their war booty for equally obscene low prices. The many taverns and open air "ale gardens" were filled with the laughing and singing warriors, both male and female, and the cutpurses and whores who also preyed on their good fortune.

            With the darkness covering the poor condition of her stolen clothes, Danica was able to walk the dusty streets all but unnoticed. Most of the mercenaries were Jarlanders, Amazons, and Tyrians, all with coloration similar to her own. Making her nothing special. Thankfully.

            Then Danica's thoughts turned dark.

            "Trapped without food, water, or transportation," she muttered. Glancing down at her feet, "And only one boot." Ripping off the boot and throwing it away. "Barefooted," she amended.

            Caressing the jeweled hilt of the stolen scimitar, she started looking around. She would have to sell it. Danica suddenly smiled, spotting a group of laughing Amazon warrior women approaching.

            "Peace be with you!" she cried, giving the traditional Amazon greeting. "A word please."

            They looked her over curiously. She fought the urge to squirm and cover herself under their frank appraisal. By their looks they thought her some street beggar, or worse.

            "I lost a bet," she said, indicating her clothes. "Taliope wasn't nice to me tonight."

            "That explains it," a plain looking brunette laughed. "You do look the vagrant type, sugar."

            "What can we do for you?" a thin blonde asked, looking impatient.

            Danica held up the bejeweled scimitar, "The last of my war booty. Indeed, my last worldly possession. Would you know of a merchant who would buy it and won't cheat me too terribly much?"

            The brunette laughed heartily. "No we don't, but you can try old Abdul. He'll rob you blind, but pays a bit better than most."

            "He's a camp follower, so has a little more respect for mercenaries than the city merchants," another said.

            "My thanks," she said, not sounding too happy. "Where can I find him?"

            "Keep on this street about two blocks. His trading post is on the right and painted red. You can't miss it."