Chapter 2: Orphan and Prisoner

 

Willow Bomar had always been a courageous child, but what had occurred mere hours ago was beyond courage. The happy and worry-free life she had always known had been so cruelly ripped away from her. Her parents, her lovely mother, and her wonderful father had been butchered in front of her eyes. She hadn’t even seconds to say her goodbyes, as the perpetrator of the thorough ruination of her peaceful existence had whisked her away. 

 

They rode in silence, as neither had a reason to speak. The galloping of the horse did not stir any urge to flee in the young girl, in fact, she sat as still as possible. Willow seemed to stare beyond the horizon, her eyes almost glazed over in shock. The pair rode like this for around half an hour before arriving at their destination, a large camp a few miles from her home. It was made up of around fifty large tents, and various campfires haphazardly spread through its layout. Men and women scurried about doing menial tasks. The wind blew hard to the west and the elf braced her and himself. She turned and looked up into her captor’s face. He gazed down into the camp with that same neutral expression he had held when slaughtering Willow’s family, long bronze hair fluttering in the wind. But something else sat behind those golden almost raptor-like eyes. Willow could not tell what it was, but his face contorted and moved in small ways that betrayed that he was deep in thought. Suddenly he met her eyes, tilting his head slightly down to look directly into her face. Then, only for a fleeting moment, she could tell what his minute change in expression meant.

 

It was pity. Not remorse, but pity for the child that sat in front of him. But then he looked away from her and back to the camp, and that hint of emotion was gone. He had returned to his near statuesque demeanor. 

 

The camp was lively as they trotted into it. People laughed and chatted, food was being cooked, and weapons and armor were being maintained. Willow thought about how unfair this was, how these people were allowed to be happy despite the horrors she had so recently experienced. Her eyes became clouded with tears once more and she clenched her teeth and hands. Her nails dug deep into her palms, blood welling up around the small and fresh new wounds. If her captor had noticed, he made no move to stop her or to tend to her injury. She soon stopped on her own however as she noticed three things.

 

First was that the people in the camp became very nervous and completely silent when they saw the elf. They cast their eyes downward and made an effort to look busy. She quickly surmised that he was extremely important. She had known that he was special of course, but this deference that the people gave him, the fear and awe she could see in their faces, it was the respect only due to high nobility.

 

Second was the tent that sat in front of them. It was undoubtedly the largest of its ilk in the camp, and various people moved in and out of its cloth-draped entrance. It was made of a simple white canvas, yet something about it seemed… wrong. It was as if that simple tent held a terrible secret. That tent grew closer and closer, and she could tell now that it was their destination. 

 

Third was the person who stood outside the tent. They wore a set of bleached leather armor, a pauldron of mirror-polished steel engraved like feathers on their right shoulder, and a scarlet cape draped over their left shoulder and wrapped around their thin form. A mask of that same mirrored steel covered their entire face, leaving only slits for their eyes. It was shaped to mimic an owl, with gold swirls decorating the face and beak. The light played with the areas that weren’t cast in shadow by the hood that covered the rest of their head. A beautiful estoc and a thin dagger sat on their hips. But the one thing over all others that Willow noticed was how small they were. They stood only slightly taller than Willow herself. 

 

This mystery was answered as soon as the elf stopped his horse outside the tent. The strange person spoke in a soft voice, it flowed gracefully but was unmistakably that of a young girl. someone likely no more than a year or two older than Willow herself. “Another one Anurias? How many children does the lord need?”

 

The elf slid off the back of the mare gracefully, Willow held tightly in his arms. “As many as we can find and obtain without being discovered. You know this Leliana.”

 

“Yes. But we’ve raised town after town. Slaughtered hundreds and kidnapped just as many. How many more lives do we need to ruin?”

 

“As many as it takes Leliana. You know it has to be done.” She looked away from him silently. Willow gazed upon his face again, to check for any sign of emotion. And there it was. A twinge, some small amount of softness moving into his hard expression for a few seconds. “This wasn’t my first choice either.” She didn’t respond, so without another word the elf, Anurias, dragged Willow into the tent. She was suspicious about what would be in there from the previous conversation, and those suspicions were soon confirmed. Inside the tent were dozens of children, all kept bound in chains on their wrists and ankles to insure they did not flee. They ranged in age from barely five or six to almost sixteen. Some cried, but most sat in eerie silence staring off into the distance with glazed-over eyes. Small groups of boys and girls sat together, siblings or friends from before they were taken. She did not recognize any of the children as being from her village, but she did make note of two individuals that sat separately from any of the groups. 

 

One was a boy around her age, his long, near-pitch-black hair was a dirty tangled mess. He was thin, almost like he hadn’t eaten in days or weeks, and he wore a torn ragged jerkin and pants. However, his eyes shone in the dim light of the tent as if they themselves smoldered with an inner fire. He sat content in one of the tent corners eating a piece of bread likely given to him by one of the guards.

 

The girl in the middle of the tent did not smolder with an inner fire, she burned. Unlike the boy, she had not sequestered herself in the corner. No, the other children gave her a wide berth and gave her worrying glances every once in a while. She too was a mess. Dirt and blood stained the frankly expensive dress she wore, her porcelain skin was likewise stained. Bruises covered her beautiful face and arm where one of the sleeves of her dress had been torn away. One of her eyes was swollen shut, and her breathing was so strained that Willow could hear it even from the entrance to the tent. Yet still, she held her chin up and her eyes followed the elf and Willow as they moved into the tent. Those eyes, or the one that could see, were the color of fresh blood, a color Willow had become all too well acquainted with recently. That color was in stark contrast with her skin and especially with her snow-white hair which turned to an ash gray near its ends. It was something Willow had only heard of, the mark of the noble blood of an imperial, someone related to the ruling family of the nearby Ashen Empire. Willow knew little else about the imperial family, but their hair and eye color was unmistakable. Ash and snow, with pools of blood resting in their sockets. 

 

Why was someone with imperial blood here? Who were these people that they could kidnap someone this important and not be hunted by every soldier of the strongest nation on the continent? Willow locked her eyes on the girl, her injuries even more apparent now that Willow had turned her full attention to her. Not only had they kidnapped a high noble, but they had also beaten her to the point that Willow doubted she could stand. 

 

Anurias released Willow and then gently pushed her further into the tent. She looked up at him, tears filling her eyes as the weight of the situation finally broke her completely. Anurias stopped and gazed into her eyes, clenching his jaw. He looked away and left the tent without a word.

 

Willow never thought she would miss the presence of her parent's murderer, but at least he had kept her mind off of how alone she really was. She sobbed quietly, still not moving from the entrance to the tent. Suddenly something hit her in the back, shoving her to the floor. 

 

“You shouldn’t be standing at the entrance.” Willow recognized that voice as she turned over and wiped her tears away. It was the girl from before, Leliana she remembered. She knelt down and Willow could tell she was looking her in the eye. “Join the others. You should make some friends before we move on.”

 

Willow sat up quickly, grabbing onto the cloak of Leliana. “Move on? Where too? Why did this happen?”

 

Leliana put a hand on Willow’s head. “You’ll learn here in a few seconds. Hopefully, you find a place there as I did.” She looked up and scanned the room, a tinge of sadness coming to her voice. “Hopefully you all do.” She shook her head and sighed. “But this wasn’t why I came in here.” Standing, she dusted herself off and raised her voice to address the entire tent. “I am Leliana, and from this moment forward I am responsible for you. After I am done speaking, knights will enter and move you to carts to be transported to Caer Snowwatch. There are currently thirty-one children in this tent. It is very likely half of you will die in the coming months. Or not. That of course is up to you, your skill, and if you want to cooperate or not.” She looked directly at the royal girl with that final statement. The girl, in response, spat at Leliana’s feet. Leliana shook her head at this. “And here we have a perfect example of my next point. Our goal is to make soldiers, I will not hide this from you. I will be your commander. Just like every other commander, I don’t care who you were before we acquired you. Your place in my squad, if you get one at all, will be determined by your skill.” She walked over to the girl, who continued to glare at her. “So former Highness, I didn’t want you here as much as you don’t want to be here. If it had been up to me, I would have killed you with the rest of your rotten family. But it wasn’t up to me. So you and I will have to deal with this arrangement. With luck, your pampered ass will be dead or a servant within a week. And I’ll be free of you”

 

The girl spat in her face.

 

Leliana wiped the spit off her mask with a gloved hand and breathed deeply. “Five lashes.” The girl did not show a hint of fear, nor did she look away. “Apologize or I will give you five more.”

 

The girl opened her mouth and spoke in a strained hoarse voice. “Go find a cock to suck whore. Maybe it’ll shut that mouth of yours.”

 

“Where did such a noble young lady learn to speak like that? Ten lashes it is.” She turned and spoke to the entire tent again. “Before we leave you will all watch what happens when you disrespect your superiors. Hopefully, you learn from it.” Leliana whistled once, a sharp, quick, and commanding note. Two soldiers in sets of shining silver plate armor walked into the tent, the sound of clanking metal filling the space. They each grabbed an arm of the white-haired girl and dragged her kicking and screaming out of the entrance. Leliana looked over the crowd of children and nodded her head in the direction of the girl who had just been dragged. “Follow. I would rather like to avoid giving out more lashings today.”

 

All save three of the children rushed forth in a chaotic mass, clambering over and past each other to try and leave the tent as quickly as possible. The three that remained were Willow, the ragged boy with black hair, and a boy that Willow had not noticed before, despite him sitting only mere meters away from her. Willow could not tell his age, but he couldn’t have been much older than her. He wore a simple set of clothes, a jerkin and thin cotton pants. Yet he wore no shoes, and his shirt sat unlaced and open. His hair was a tousled mess, gleaming a dull gold. It almost seemed frosted over, like a thin layer of white and blue clung to the thin strands. His bright blue eyes shone mischievously, like a cat who had found a new toy. Without a hint of fear he stared Leliana down, almost as if he was the one in power, not her. Willow could tell that her eyes were staring right back at him.

 

She tilted her head slightly.“What? Did I not make myself clear?”

 

He chuckled. “Oh you certainly did. And I’d absolutely love to see that royal whipped mind you. But I figured I'd wait for the exit to clear a bit,” He paused. “And allow me to get the measure of you, and my fellow stragglers.”

 

“Oh? And what have you gathered?”

 

He hopped to his feet in one fluid motion, sticking his hands in pockets. In a few short strides he stood in front of Leliana. Or more “over” her. This boy was much taller than Leliana, Willow estimated that he was only slightly shorter than her father had been, yet much leaner. But she could tell that despite his age and thin frame, he was strong. With a scoff he spoke, and held up one finger. “First. Based on the quick response of those men to your whistle, you’re someone important here, very important, not just some captain or soldier.” He held up a second finger. “Second. Despite that, you are making a show of force against an important person. At least someone who was important. So that means you're either new to your position and need to establish dominance, you’re incompetent and uncertain in your command, or hold a personal grudge on that royal. I'm going to go with a combination of one and three, you’re too young to be in your position without being competent.” He held up a third finger. “Third, you wanted to see who would stay after your warning, just like I did. Smart. It was a test to weed out malcontents, or people like me who had enough cunning to see what you were up to.”

 

He put his hand back in his pocket. “Finally, the three people left in this tent are going to be the only children left alive after you're through with us.” He flicked his head at the ragged boy, without taking his eyes off of Lelianna. “I’ve seen his like before, damn near unkillable. Likely a street urchin, or abused orphan. Most give up, but very few gain this fire that keeps them alive. Out of spite, or sheer will to live. He’s the latter.” He glanced over at Willow. “Her? She’s a fighter. Got something to prove, or someone to kill. She probably hasn’t even realized it herself yet, but I can tell by her body language and how she keeps looking over every detail ‘round her. She’s not going to allow herself to fail.”

 

Lelianna tilted her head up to look him in the eyes. “And you?”

 

He flung his head back and laughed out loud. When he had finished he slowly lowered his head and glared directly at Leliana. It was as if he was seeing through her. “Too smart, too handsome, too talented. I’m destined for something more. This is just a little bump in the road. I will not stop that journey now, it's only just begun. So throw whatever you want at me. Try to drown me, burn me, or cut me to ribbons. I’ll come through with a smile, head above the water, untouched by the flames, covered in scars but unbroken.” 

 

He walked past her, and made his way for the exit. Without turning to look at him, she spoke to all three of them. “What are your names?”

 

The ragged boy responded first, his voice quiet, yet clear and strong. “I have no name. Though everything he said was right.”

 

Willow spoke up, somehow the boy’s words had invigorated her. Her fear and sorrow had not abandoned her, but a new feeling swelled within her breast. Determination. In a soft voice, barely a whisper that she doubted the other could even hear, she replied. “Willow Bomar.”

 

The boy opened the flap of the tent, but paused to speak. “Marrik. A name that you, nor the world will ever forget.” Then he was gone, moving on to the certainly soon to be gruesome scene outside.

 

Leliana’s head turned slightly to look at where he had just been then, and then turned back to the two remaining children. The ragged boy was already standing and making his way for the exit, but Willow needed a bit more prompting. Leliana strode over to her quickly and squatted down in front of her. She spoke in a surprisingly soft voice, quiet and graceful. “I understand that this situation is a complete shock to you. You have lost everything you have ever known. That is no small thing.” She laid a gloved hand out, offering it to Willow. The broken girl looked down at it, hesitating. But with great trepidation, she took the other girl’s hand. Leliana stood up slowly, placing her other hand on Willow’s waist, guiding her to her feet. “You have a right to feel wronged. To feel hatred and sorrow. But you can’t let them consume you. Because if you do, you will die. Not just physically, but you as a person will be gone. Something new taking your place.” Willow nodded her head slightly. She could tell that Leliana was speaking from experience. “Now come. We have kept everyone waiting for long enough.” She turned her head to look at the exit, not releasing Willow’s hand. “I have a show of force I must make.” She gently pulled on Willow’s hand, leading her out of the tent. 

 

The sun hung high in the sky, and the wind that had previously filled the air had all but disappeared. A macabre silence hung over the entire camp, and she knew why. A short distance away stood the rest of the captured children, all focused on one thing…

 

…The large wooden pole, and the girl who was tied to it.

 

Her dress had been peeled down, leaving her upper half bare. Her chest was firmly pressed to the pole, her arms forced and bound around it. This was not in an attempt to preserve her modesty, but instead to make sure she couldn’t move. Her face pressed against the rough wood, looking in the direction of the tent. No, directly at Leliana. There was no sign of tears in those crimson eyes, but they were not empty either. They were filled with pure, unadulterated, hatred. Fury and pain shone through as well. However, there was no fear. Not a single drop of it sat in the girl.

 

Leliana pushed Willow gently towards the crowd of children, then strode forth to enact the punishment she had sentenced. Willow joined the crowd without a word, eyes fixated on the scene before her. Leliana stood next to the girl, and held one hand out. A knight placed a simple leather whip into it, and she let it unfurl as she let her hand fall back down to her side. “One last chance. Apologize.”

 

The girl breathed deep, her muscles relaxing. “Do your worst bitch. But know that whatever pain you cause to me today, it will be nothing compared to what is coming to you.”

 

“Fine then. I gave you an opportunity to lessen your punishment.” With that final word she brought the whip up and down so fast that Willow’s eyes couldn’t track it. It fell across the girls back, leaving a long gash that quickly filled with blood. “One.” The girl began to breathe heavily through her nose, but she did not cry out. Leliana brought the whip down again, harder this time. A second gash appeared on the girl’s back. “Two.” Her jaw clenched, but she made no noise. The whip rose and fell. “Three.” Then again. “Four.” And again. “Five.” Willow could see tears in her eyes now, but still she remained silent.

 

Five more times did Leliana lash the royal, but not once did she let out a cry. By the end of it, tears were flowing down her cheeks in streams of grime and pain, but her eyes never changed. Fear nor regret ever once entered them. When the final blow fell Leliana sighed, then spoke in a voice dripping with disgust. “Ten. Unbind her, but do not treat her wounds. I want them to scar, so she remembers forever what happens when she disobeys her superiors.” Soldiers approached and untied the girl's hands, letting her fall to the ground in a heap. 

 

Leliana began to walk away, but she was stopped when the girl spoke in a voice trembling with pain and fury. “I will wear them proudly. They will serve as a reminder that you couldn’t break me.”

 

Leliana scoffed and walked away, giving one final order to the soldiers. “Have the prisoners look at her for the next five minutes, then round them up and put them in the carriages. We’re leaving in a few hours.” They saluted her, and she moved further into the camp. Soon she disappeared for sight, and all that was left was the children, the soldiers, and the girl who’s body had been abused, but who had remained unbroken.

 

No one moved to help her, they all simply watched. Willow could see Marrik and the other boy in the crowd. Despite what the tall boy had said, Marrik’s face was filled with pity and a hint of respect. The other’s face remained unchanged, but his eyes never moved from the wounds on the girl's back. Willow stood near the front, looking on in pity. Her chest hurt. Was this right? Should she just stand here doing nothing? If she moved to help her, would she be punished in a similar fashion?

 

Suddenly she remembered something her father had done. They had been in the village square buying produce for her mother to cook into various meals and supplies, when a man approached them. He had worn nothing but rags, grim and grease covering his body. He was old, his hair nearly stark white, a beard hanging down to his waist. He asked her father for food, saying that he hadn’t eaten in days. Willow had seen him approaching other people in the market, most of them turning the old beggar away. Her father had just smiled, and passed him a large basket of produce. Tears welled in the beggar’s eyes, it was clear that he had not eaten in a long time, and that was the most food he had had in months. When they finished their shopping, Willow asked her father why she had given the beggar the food, nearly a quarter of what they had bought. “We may have to survive on a little less sure, but we will survive. Helping others, even at a detriment to yourself, is always a good thing. It may not always be the smart choice, but if you have it to give then you should help anyone who needs it. Compassion my daughter, it is something this world can always have more of.”

 

Her father’s words stirred something in her, and caused her to move from her place in the crowd of children. She knelt next to the girl and ripped a few stripes of cloth from her and the girl’s clothes. She began to dress her wounds to the best of her ability. And while her makeshift bandages weren't much, they would be enough to ensure that the wounds didn’t become infected or scar too badly for a time.

 

The soldiers made no move to stop her, they simply watched on in interest. Willow wondered why that was, but quickly forgot about it when the girl spoke. “Why are you helping me? Don’t you fear ending up in a similar situation?”

 

“I do.” She said honestly. “But you needed help. I refuse to stand aside while someone is suffering in front of me.”

 

“You don’t know me. This decision was damn near moronic.”

 

Willow continued to dress her wounds. “Maybe. But it was my decision to make. It’s too late to turn back now anyway.”

 

The girl sighed. “What’s your name?”

 

“Willow Bomar. And you?”

 

“Lena Ashe.”