Part 38

Greza looked into the room she’d share with Onata.  Instead of barracks scouts lived in two-man rooms.  There was a window overlooking the moor that had a wooden shutter and clear, clean glass.

Two beds, one desk, two trunks and a rack for their armor and weapons. A simple room but a comfortable room; far more than what she was accustomed to.

“Like it?” Onata asked.

“It’ll be peaceful.”

“Much easier to sleep when you don’t have ten men playing cards all night.”

“Which bed is mine?”

Onata nodded her horned head to the left.  Greza walked over and sat down on her new bed.  Comfortable.  Onata sat on her bed across from her. 

“Did you see me when they brought me in?” Greza asked.

Onata nodded.

“You looked awful.”

“Did I have a wound in my arm?”

“Lots of blood.”

“I thought I was going mad.  When I woke up, I couldn’t find it.”

“Duke Verin had Alethia heal you. First time I saw that happen.”

She hadn’t deserved the honor of being healed by magic.  Every spell cost the sorcerer a memory.  The more powerful the magic, the more important the memory it cost.  Magic was rare because the few people born with the ability chose not to sacrifice their own memories for power. 

Some did it gladly however. 

She wondered which type this Alethia was.  She was the Raven from the prophecy but that didn’t mean she was a good person.  Throughout history the Divine Lights had used wicked people to further their cause.  But would the Promised Victor have such a power hungry woman as a close friend?  She didn’t want to believe it but the man hadn’t had the wholesome, informative upbringing he was supposed to have had. 

The Church of the Divine Path had planned to prepare him from a child to meet the expectations the world had for him.  Now, even if he did come to accept his calling, he might not be prepared for it. 

After breakfast she rejoined the scouts in a small meeting hall just off the courtyard.  When she walked in everyone stood and clapped. 

Greza stopped and looked around.  Was this a joke?

“What’s this about?” Greza asked.

“Don't be modest,” Onata whispered.

She was about to protest but Richkurk walked up and held out his hand.

“I knew you had something in you,” he said.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t like modesty,” he said with a smile.

“Told you," Onata whispered and then turned to Richkurk. "She’s not being modest.  She believes it.”

“That’s even worse.”

He led her to the front of the room and Greza wanted to shrink and disappear.  As a slave, attention was never a good thing.  She spent a great deal of effort to remain as invisible as she could.  Now here she was, in front of everyone, being praised for something that was skewed into something it wasn’t. 

“Like it or not, you’re famous now,” Richkurk whispered to her.

“I don’t deserve it.”

“You risked your life to let others escape during the battle, then you broke the other prisoners out and marched all the way back here alone. I’d say that was impressive by anyone’s standards.”

A medal was pinned on her black uniform and then she was allowed to take her seat after many more hard pats on the back. 

The rest of the day was a class on how to survive in the wilderness, something she could have used earlier.  She paid attention and made sure to ask questions so she’d remember what was being taught.

Much of the class was taught by the other soldiers.  It seemed that rank didn’t matter too much in the scouts. 

The rest of the week went on with classes, weapon drills and a few courses out on the moor about concealment.

Greza loved it.  She was learning to be stronger and more in charge of her own destiny.  She was growing and she felt freer and happier than she had ever felt in her life. 

On the first day of the second week a soldier came into their class and handed Richkurk a note.  Richkurk’s expression was hard to read through his beard.

“Greza, Onata, you’re to report to the Duke immediately.  Seems he has a message that needs delivered.”

“Yes, sir,” Onata said. 

They got up and left the class room.

“What’s this?”  Greza asked.

“The Duke said we’re his new messengers, right?”

“I thought that was more about battlefield messages and such.”

“I’ve had to deliver a message to the Imperial capital before.”

“I wonder where we’re going.”

“Could literally be anywhere.”

“Why’s that?”

“During the winter contracts are made for the next summer campaigning season.  We’ll be running around a great deal this winter.”

They reached the Duke’s office and knocked. 

The door was opened and Tempest stood there, filling the entire doorway.  He looked them over and then moved out of the way.

“The two messengers, Verin,” Tempest said in his bass drum voice.

They walked in and saw Duke Verin sitting behind his desk writing a letter of some kind.  Alethia was sitting off to the side on a couch and eating grapes and reading a book.     

The Duke looked up and waved them in.  Tempest closed the door behind them.

“I have a message I need delivered to the Baron of Fairfield in the southern Imperial province of Spetium.  Deliver the message, wait for his written reply and return here.  Understood?” Duke Verin asked.

“Understood,” they both said in unison.

“Isn’t she a little green?” Alethia asked. “I don’t mean skin color.”

“Onata has delivered messages before,” Verin said. 

“She lucked out once.  I don’t count on rookie’s luck to last long.”

“She can handle it,” Verin said.

Alethia lowered her book and turned her cold, dark eyes toward them. 

“I don’t like you,” Alethia said.

“Alethia,” Verin said.

“I don’t.  I think you’re a rookie that got lucky.  You’re no hero.”

“Agreed,” Greza said.

Alethia smirked and went back to reading her book. 

“She has a very cheerful disposition on some days,” Verin said.

Greza didn’t say anything.  When the masters talked about her, it was always better to stay silent. 

Verin stood up and walked over to them.  He put the scroll in Onata’s hands. 

“This is a very important message.  Secrecy is the highest priority.  If there’s a chance if might fall into anyone’s hands but this Baron of Fairfield, then destroy it.  Do not leave without his reply. Haste is paramount.”

“Yes, Duke,” Onata said. 

“Now go prepare.  Leave as soon as you are able.”

Then Onata turned and walked out of the room. Greza hurried to catch up.  She turned back to get another look at her Duke but the door was closing already. 

The Imperial province of Spetium.

She was returning to Imperial lands.  There she would have no rights.  If they found out she was an escaped slave they would imprison her and then return her to her masters for cruel punishments.  She wasn’t a person there, she’d be a thing. 

This was her chance to show her usefulness to the Duke, but this was also far more dangerous than any battle.  If one person recognized her then her life would be forfeit. 

And there weren’t a lot of half Ork-half Dark Elves running around.