Legends of Belariath
Sutara
Exorcist of a Memory
Chapter 2; Blood Lines
10 years ago
The smell of sweat, unwashed bodies, and the cloy smell of clove tobacco permeated the inside of the small caravan, the back and forth motion as it was pulled over the uneven dirt road sending the multitude of pans clanging on the outside. There was too little room for the bodies that jostled and hunched on the inside, and for a moment her breath gasped in a desperate attempt for something to inhale that was not chokingly thick. This spurred her to scramble for the front of the wagon, pushing open one of the small windows, kneeling on part of the bench seat that was not occupied by boxes or clothes.
"Elias! Are we there yet?" she called to the driver, the cold wind whipping strands of her hair away from her too pale face. The sound she was rewarded with was a snort, silence, and the shifting of someone as the reigns were snapped against the two sway backed nags that pulled the garish vehicle. "Elias!" she called again, hand slapping the side to gain attention. Finally, the rider swiveled his head briefly to look back, bright red hair tumbling from the low wide brimmed hat he wore, eyes of ashen hue settling on her peeved features. He didn't answer, likely just out spite, or irritation, causing her to restrain her immediate reaction that would have at least one clanging pot sailing for his head. Instead, tugging on her cloak, she'd eyeball the lip of the roof above her; she grasping onto the edges of the window as she pulled herself onto the side. He snorted, turning back to slap those reins again, causing the caravan to pick up more speed and making it lurch. Her fingers clung tight to the ledge, plastered as she was, footing precarious as she'd slip along that thin lower lip towards the front.
It was with some relief, at least on her end, when she sat down next to him, grasping onto the bench seat for purchase as she glared balefully at him.
"I asked, are we there yet?" she hissed, at the same time pausing to glance around. The landscape was somewhat the same as what she was used to, thick forests rising on either side, mountains to the South, more hills to the North. They had spent at least a week on the road, journeying from the heat of the desert plains to here, an Empire, he had called it. Well, she hadn't seen anything as yet to cause awe or see it as such. Nothing that could compare to the Gloom, she had oft retorted enough. Ahead though, past a curve in the road, she saw the tell tale signs of civilization, straightening and pulling her cloak tighter around her.
"You see it? We'll be able to stop for provisions, maybe sell some things." he spoke, finally, voice gravelly from too much smoking and too much liquor, though his features retained that defined elven beauty and youth, one could see the sunken eyes, and too thin build. Sutara turned, looked at him from her peripheral. "What exactly do you plan on selling? We have nothing left." bitterness edging that tone. He only grinned, lips that were an unnatural red spreading against the pale quality of face. "We don't but they do, maybe if find someone who can use a new slave?" he intoned.
Sutara just stared at him, shaking her head. The occupants within had been travelers they'd picked up on his lark, a spur of the moment that had her wondering what exactly he had been up to. Not that this surprised her, not in the least, anything and everything if only to earn coin. So she settled back from him, looking away and off towards the small city they were coming upon. There was the mild taste of hope in her mouth, something she swallowed with an ounce of bitter cynicism. Every city had the same catch, the same view, but it always ended up the same, running away because of something he did, or because they always ended up finding them. Sutara released a mild expulsion of breath, huddling down, letting the rocking of the wagon lull her into a moment of peace.
Present
Sutara stirred, the memory an odd thing, pulling herself from the viscous tendrils that clung to her subconscious. This was not the time or place for such things, she mused, her bottom bouncing in the saddle as she spurred Mercy towards the wagon itself.
"Whoa! Whoa! Hello!" she would call ahead, watching as hands gloved would fist within the tethers of those reigns, features of driver as yet unseen. She brought her mount up to its side, gaining speed to pull up near the bench of the driver's seat.
"Hello?" she asked speaking loudly to lift her voice above the wail of that chilled wind, huddling for a moment inside her cloak. Her question was answered as a head turned, a wide brimmed hat that curled at one side in a most dashing manner, twin eyes of obsidian black staring at her before he'd shift and snap the reigns again. No answer forthcoming, which caused her dark lips to twist, pulling back and allowing him to pull forward as she'd try to peer within the wagon itself.
The shadows clung in that grey atmosphere, the dim light making what she could see mottled and blurred. What she could see, even with that sharp vision of hers, consisted of two long crates within, no markings, but obviously coffins. There sat two other individuals, huddled and turned away, anything else, lost as the flap of the wagon was pulled shut by the single motion of an unseen occupant.
She snorted, pushing Mercy to the opposing side, once more taking a trotting position next to the driver.
"Do you mind stating your business on the boarder? We've had some trouble lately and I don't recognize you from the village." Spoken more loudly, more firmly, again those obsidian orbs turned to her. He had to be some type of mixed breed, perhaps chirot, perhaps dark elf, for his build was small but muscular it seemed. No answer, and when she'd reach over to try and grasp his reigns, the flash of steel was seen, an arch of sword diving for her arm. Sutara saw it a moment later, yanking back, an oath given as she felt the shallow slice against her unprotected arm. Stupid, muttered, as pain blossomed in her forearm, even as she'd seek to draw her own weapon, maneuvering her horse a safe distance back whilst long sword was brandished in wounded hand.
“Halt, NOW, I give you warning!” Sutara yelled, letting loose a sound of frustration as she avoided another swipe of his blade, the wagon rocking precariously as it sped along the road. Her back teeth grinded in fury, eyes narrowed to red slits before she’d spur her horse ahead, the destrier hooves pounded the muddied earth, sending it flying in either direction. Once she was at level with the lead horse, she’d look back to the driver, his stance menacing; taking a chance, she’d sheath her sword, free hand now reaching as she’d lurch to the side, and try to grasp onto the horses’ bridle to pull up, forcing the horses to slow. The driver cursed, dirt-covered cloak pulled and pushed against one shoulder, as he dropped down from the bench and began to stride with menace towards her. Her first impression was that he was taller than she thought, hand moving for her sword. Her second impression was that he was incredibly fast, barely pushing her horse away when his hands fell on her hips, dragging her down off her saddle. She twisted and struggled, her elbow coming down to land at his jaw, earning her a grunt of pain as she tried to catapult her weight off of him. He wind milled, arms working furiously to keep his footing, shouting something obscene as he reached, found purchase in her wet unfettered hair. Needless to say, it hurt having your hair yanked by two-hundred some pounds of angry male, and while in other circumstances she might have enjoyed it, her scream vented the air as she toppled forward.
Dazed, she lifted her face, spitting out mud as she tried to scramble off of the slab of muscle she’d landed on, only to feel two hands grip and tighten on her arms. Ready to deliver a knee between her legs, she felt the inhalation of breath, a moment of shock stilling the figure beneath. This was her chance, yanking free one arm, before inadvertently glancing to him and the expression he held.
It was one of recognition, obsidian orbs blazing with a mixture of disbelief and fury into garnet hued gaze. Not quite sure why he was staring at, she began to open her mouth, trying to twist her other arm free when he cut her words off.
“Sutara?” He asked, voice gruff, but oh so familiar. She instantly stilled, memory flooding in, breathe sucked in as she continued to stare down at the unfamiliar face, hearing that familiar voice. “Mathias?” Sutara replied in question, eyes narrowed in the next instant a familiar surge of fury welling up from within. She didn’t wait for his answer, never did, instinct taking over as she would blindly swing her knee up between his legs. It was not going to be a happy reunion.
10 years ago
“Alright, I got a room at the local tavern where we can bunk down, but the pawn broker would only give me 150 for the ---“ Sutara was just coming out of the pawn shop, eyes down as she counted coin and quickly put the coin in the safety of cloak, coming short as she looked to where the caravan was supposed to be situated. There were guards, at least five, that were surrounding the wagon, poking their head into the back and speaking to a vendor next to the parked conveyance. Her instincts on high alert, she shifted and moved behind a stall, crouching as she’d pull her hood up and over that luxuriate silver mass that spilled down her slender back. Instant fear blossomed in her chest, as well as bitterness, wondering if her father was still inside when the back of the wagon was thrown open. She strained to hear what was being said.
“We’re looking for this man, a high elf who goes by the name of Elias Rowen, alias John Errish, alias T`irsh`el alias Ver`in`ishel alias. Ahh hell, have you seen him?” One guard, wearing vestments of a member of a high elven court, thrust out the parchment with the artist depiction towards the vendor. The flustered merchant squinted, snatched at the paper, before giving a gallic shrug as he pretended not to know. It produced a sour expression on the guard, who fisted his gauntleted hand within the robes of the merchant, pulling him upwards until his shoes dangled above the pavement. Yelling obscenities and cries of help in his native language, the merchant finally catapulted, pointing in various directions, one of which was the shop she had just exited. She cursed, looking side ways for a viable escape route, immediately standing as she pulled the hood of her cloak more firmly around her.
The last thing she saw were the travelers who had been huddled within the wagon, pulled forcefully despite their pleas for mercy, subjected to the screaming demands of the guards as they were compared to the drawing’s they carried. Disgusted, the head guard thrust one of the occupants towards another, the order given to take them in for questioning. No sign of her father, she noticed, turning to try and slip unnoticed through the throngs of people who jostled and hurried to their varied destinations. So concerned with watching if any followed her, she had not been watching where she was going, feeling too late the bite of a vending stall in her hip. Twisting to try and avoid calamity, Sutara spun into the figure standing right in front of her, coming up against the hard line of muscle, hands gripping her upper arms.
Startled, she blinked, tilting her head back to peer up at the face that loomed close enough to kiss. Her first impression, was lust incarnate within high elven flesh, a shame really, her next impression was that of the familiar sigils on his armor and cloak, marking him as Captain. He smiled, a pleasing effect that had her toes curling, before she glanced back to the wagon, then him again, feeling his fingers tighten upon her arms as a call was made from behind her. She didn’t need to look, didn’t need to see the merchant pointed to her with a flourish of his thick hands, but, like the masochist she was, she turned her head anyways, seeing exactly what she expected. Sutara turned her head back, inhaling sharply as she peeked up at the man’s face, as suspected, his features had gone from that soft curling smile, to a hard mask of speculation.
“Well, shit.”
Nothing could be better suited to the situation, eyes on his, trying to suck in a breath at the same time her knee was coming up into the juncture of his thighs. His eyes widened on impact, a fury erupting in the lovely color of his irises, a color not quite silver and not quite blue, his grip slackening as he began to fold over at the jarring pain that blossomed from his groin. There was a moment of apology in her face, using that instant to push hard at his chest, gaining her freedom. She remembered the shouts, the sound of feet hitting the packed market road, and her breath wheezing out of her chest as she navigated the populated streets. At some point, she over turned a cart filled with ripened tomatoes and other vegetables, invoking the rage filled shouts of the owner. Nothing given there, not even enough room to look behind her as she turned the next corner, skidding as she hurried into an alley way.
Sutara came to an abrupt halt, eyes darting around the pot-holed alley and it’s myriad of slinking occupants. There was another shout from the street, causing her to turn, hair whipping across her face as panic made her heart pound in her throat. Quickly she pushed herself behind several crates, crouching and trying to bring her breathing under control. Just a few minutes later, she saw that same male stalk into the alley, his motions agitated, helm within his grip as hand moved in agitation through pale blonde locks. She could have just coo’d at him, enticing her so, dark lashes coming down against the darkening color of orbs. He continued to inspect the alley, his breathing equally as agitated, not quite as cool and collected as a Captain of the Guard should be, she mused.
The Captain never came close to her hiding place, but there was a moment, when his eyes lifted to the walls of the buildings that shadowed the side street, and a smile curled his lips. She wondered, what exactly had brought that curve to his lips, a moment of jealously flaring – dark and deep, unrelenting as it was uncalled for. He turned, rejoined his men, making motions to them and striding back towards where they had come. Sutara waited, watched, making sure no one was around before she finally pulled away from crates and slinked out of the alley way. It was night already, her time, dark lips that tugged at the corners as she pulled her cowl down and made her way towards the local pub.
It was time to find her father, and get some answers.