DAUGHTERS OF THE SKY

Episode 1 The Slavers of El Arish

 

lespion@msn.com

 

Chapter 5  The Shlisps

 

Asharia was exhausted by the time Steelforge awoke.  The Dwarf had snored like a bear throughout the night, but it was not his snoring that had kept her awake, it was the brutality of the ordeal she had just endured and the fear that it would be repeated as soon as the Dwarf awoke. 

 

To her immense relief, Steelforge was much more interested in eating than taking her one more time.  He turned her out of his bed and immediately set to making breakfast, mixing up a large pot of oatmeal.  The task kept him occupied for the next hour, and since Asharia’s wrists were still bound, she could do nothing more than look on and wonder what the Dwarf’s plans were.

 

Steelforge, however, was not interested in telling either her or Firetong what his plans were.  He finished preparing breakfast, and wolfed down his share so quickly Asharia was sure that he must have burned his mouth.  She ate hers more slowly, blowing on it frequently to cool it while wondering how long Steelforge’s supply of fuel would last.  Everything they used in the caves had been brought in on the donkey and the horse.  She puzzled over this, knowing that he could not remain long in the gloomy darkness, no matter how much he feared pursuit. 

 

She sat beside Firetong and watched as Steelforge packed what was left of their provisions.  With her ankles tethered she couldn’t do much else.  Finally, his packing done, Steelforge was ready.  As before he tethered her behind the donkey, kicked Firetong to his feet and set off. 

 

Asharia’s loins ached, but she trotted stoically behind the donkey, relieved that Steelforge had not seen fit to rape her again.  Once again the way was lit only by the single torch Steelforge carried.  Despite the darkness, however, Steelforge seemed to know where he was going.  For the most part he followed the stream that cut through the cavern.  Asharia kept count of the torches.  It was a way of keeping time if nothing else.  Counting to herself she determined that it took about an hour for a torch to burn right down and Steelforge went through five torches before he finally stopped.  By that time Asharia was exhausted, dehydrated, and very hungry. 

 

“Ha!” Steelforge shouted.  “We be here at last.” 

 

Asharia looked around her.  There seemed little difference from any other part of the caves, but Steelforge actually sounded jubilant.  Without further ado he began to set up camp.

 

“Ye can’t be planning to stay here long,” Firetong exclaimed.  “We’ll starve to death or die from the cold.”

 

“Heh,” Steelforge said gleefully.  “That be what ye think, but yer in fer a surprise.”

 

Dumbfounded, Asharia and Firetong watched Steelforge set up camp, wondering at the “surprise” he had promised.

 

The Dwarf took his time, placing everything in order before he decided to enlighten them.  He began by building a small fire, using the last of the wood he had brought with him.  Then, carrying a shovel, he walked slowly over to a broken pile of stone and picked up a scoop of it.  He repeated the act several times until there was a sizeable pile, and then to the amazement of both Asharia and Firetong, began to throw smaller lumps of the rock into the hot coals.  This strange behaviour was explained a few seconds later when the lumps of rock burst into flame.

 

“Discovered this the last time I was here,” Steelforge said proudly.  “I call it fire rock.  Burns hotter and longer than wood.”  He tossed a few more lumps of the black rock into the fire and then dusted off his hands with satisfaction. 

 

“A bit dirty though,” he commented.  “From now on, Elven bitch, keeping the fire going will be your job.”  He went over to his gear and dragged out a set of chains, and then marched over to Asharia and shackled her ankles.  “That should keep ye from running away.  Now start shoveling.”  He tossed the shovel at her feet. 

 

Stunned, Asharia picked it up.  She had never used a shovel in her life, but she decided that she better learn.  She had already experienced enough of Steelforge’s brutality and did not want to provoke him further.  Moving to the large pile of fire rock she began to do as he had ordered.

 

Steelforge grunted in satisfaction.  Apparently it pleased the dwarf to see the once proud Shebaria reduced to shoveling chunks of rock.  Then he turned to Firetong.  “As fer you, Uncle.  I have a duty more suited to one of your strength.”

 

Hooking a chain around Firetong’s neck, Steelforge dragged the reluctant Dwarf across the cavern.  By now the fire rock was burning brightly enough that Asharia, with her Elven sight, could easily see where Firetong was taken.  Against the far side of the cavern was another pile of broken rock.  But it was not the rubble that caught Asharia’s eye; it was the gleam of sliver in the rock face.

 

As Firetong was hauled over to it he gasped loudly.  “Mithril!” he cried.

 

“Yes, mithril,” Steelforge echoed.  “An unknown vein, and one I plan to trade for my return to Kharag.  I will be welcomed as a hero.”

 

“Ye were banned fer life, ye scum.  If ye dare go back ye’ll be killed.” 

 

“Not if I return with a wagonload of mithril.  There’s not been a discovery of the metal for more than two hundred years.  Ye know well that any Dwarf would sell his soul for a pound of the stuff.”

 

As Steelforge finished speaking he chained Firetong to a ring embedded in the rock wall and handed him a pick, stepping well away from the powerfully built Dwarf as he did so.  “Now ye know yer place.  Ye’ll mine the mithril for me and the Elven bitch will provide the fire rock to melt it down.”

 

“I’ll not work fer ye,” Firetong growled.  “I don’t care if ye kill me.”

 

“Then ye’ll not eat and ye can watch the Elven bitch starve too.”

 

“Ye’ll not harm her because of me!” Firetong yelled, outraged. 

 

“Not if ye do as I say.  Now get to work.  I’ve got fishing to do.”

 

Cursing, Firetong picked up the pick and began to slam it violently into the rock.  Steelforge laughed derisively and then marched off into the darkness, leaving his two hapless captives to carry out his orders.

 

He returned an hour or so later, carrying a string of fish, which Asharia had guessed that he had caught in the underground stream.  Judging from the size of the fish, and the short time that had passed, the job had not been difficult.  Steelforge placed the fish on a large flat rock close to the fire, and as they cooked went about getting the rest of supper ready. 

 

There wasn’t much to it, just some boiled beans and a few seasonings, but when Firetong and Asharia were allowed to eat, they found the fish quite tasty.  Nevertheless, Firetong pointed out the limitations of the meal.  “Ye can’t expect us to survive on beans and fish.  It’s not a proper diet.”

 

“It’ll keep ye alive until ye’ve done what I want,” Steelforge returned.  He left unsaid what he intended to do with his captives after he had finished with them, but both Asharia and Firetong suspected that death awaited them.  If Steelforge was to return successfully to the Dwarven community he could not afford to leave any witnesses. 

 

Supper finished, Steelforge turned his eyes on Asharia.  She was exhausted from the long trek and the labour of shoveling the coal, but the brutal Dwarf seemed not to care.  He burped loudly, and picking his teeth with a fishbone, leered at her.  “Now, ye Elven bitch, it’s time fer dessert.”

 

He rose from his place at the fire and stalked toward her.  With her ankles still shackled she was no match for his brute strength.  He grabbed her and dragged her toward the fire and the saddle as he had done the night before.  Asharia fought him all the way, but he forced her face down across the saddle and jerked down her trousers from behind. 

 

She screamed as he took her.  Steelforge had made no effort to prepare her and the penetration was unbelievably painful.  The Dwarf rammed himself against her quivering buttocks while Asharia writhed in agony.  Her shrieks echoed throughout the cavern, ending in broken sobs as Steelforge finished with her.  Pulling out of her he jerked up his trousers, and dragged her over to a ring identical to the one he had chained Firetong to, and locked her chain onto it.  Then he picked up his blanket, rolled himself in it and was soon shaking the cave with his snores.

 

Asharia wept uncontrollably, overwhelmed by the horror of her situation.  There seemed no way out of her hopeless predicament.  She faced a life of forced labour, followed by being ravished nightly, and then ultimately death when Steelforge was finished with her.  It was too much for the Elven girl to endure.  Finally exhaustion overcame her and she fell into a restless sleep.

 

She awoke shivering with cold and realized that the fire rock had burned down to glowing coals.  The sadistic Dwarf had not provided her with a blanket and her Dwarven garments were not enough to keep her warm.  Fearful of waking Steelforge, she crept to the fire rock and added a few lumps to the embers. 

 

“Who has brought sorrow to Sanctuary?”

 

The voice went right through Asharia’s head; or rather, it was inside her head, and its suddenness startled her.  She replied in a whisper, afraid that Steelforge would awaken, and frightened by the mysterious voice.  “Who are you?”

 

“I am Shlisp.  Why have you brought sorrow to Sanctuary?”

 

Confused and fearful Asharia whispered her reply.  “What is a Shlisp?  And what is Sanctuary?”

 

“I am Schlisp.”  The voice inside her mind sounded annoyed that Asharia did not understand was it was.  It offered no other explanation, but demanded a reply.  “Why have you brought sorrow to Sanctuary?”

 

“I have not brought sorrow anywhere,” Asharia replied.  This time she did not speak, realizing that the Shlisp, whatever it was could easily read her thoughts. 

 

“It is you I hear.  Your anguish causes me much discomfort.”

 

Asharia’s Elven eyes scanned the darkness.  At first she saw nothing; then her eyes detected a faint shimmering, almost like a heat haze, although it was nowhere near the burning fire rock.  Then she noticed another shimmering and another, and another.  She realized that the cavern was crowded with dozens if not hundreds of Shlisps.

 

“What are you?” Asharia asked again. 

 

Silence greeted her question, but Asharia could detect a feeling of confusion in her mind as if her question had made no sense.  When an answer finally came it gave her very little information. 

 

“I am Shlisp,” the voice repeated.  “I am not like you humans.”

 

“I am not a human,” Asharia thought back.  “I am Elven.”

 

“Elf, Dwarf, Man, Goblin, Gnome; you are all human.  All of you bring anguish”

 

The voice of the Schlisp contained no emotion, making the statement as if stating the obvious.

 

“Why are you here?” Asharia asked, trying a different line of questioning.

 

“I have come here to escape the torment that Humans bring.  For ten thousand years I have escaped anguish and now you have brought it again.”

 

Asharia noticed that the Shlisp always spoke in first person.  “How many of you are there?” she asked.

 

“There is just me.”

 

It was the first time that Asharia had ever encountered the concept of a group consciousness, but she grasped the idea at once.  “I see many Schlisp, but they are all part of the whole?”

 

There was another silence as if the Schlisp was attempting to determine the precise meaning of the question.  “That is correct.  There is only one Schlisp.  The many are one, and all feel your anguish.”

 

Asharia suddenly understood.  “Our grief causes you pain, and so you fled to these caverns to escape contact with Humans?”

 

“Yes and now you have brought the pain back again.”  This time there was an accusatory tone to the Shlisp’s thoughts. 

 

“It is not I who have brought the pain,” Asharia thought back.  “I and my companion have been brought here against our will and cruelly treated.  I would go if I could.”

 

“Why can you not go?”

 

“I am chained as is my companion.  We cannot escape.”

 

There was another silence as if the Schlisp was digesting this new information and considering it carefully.  “If the chains are removed will you leave?”

 

“Yes,” Asharia thought.  “Yes!”  She could hardly contain her excitement.

 

There was another silence and then a click.  The chains fell from her ankles.  “Thank you,” Asharia thought.  There was no answer; the Schlisp was gone.

 

“I’m free,” Asharia thought jubilantly, but even as the thought crossed her mind she knew it was not true.  Steelforge slept a few feet away, his thunderous snores echoing throughout the cavern, and she was unarmed and exhausted from her ordeal.  She had no idea if she could deal with the Dwarf on her own, especially since she was unarmed.  However, there was Firetong.

 

She crept across the cavern to the sleeping Dwarf.  Reaching his side she noted with pleasure that his chains had also been unlocked and hung loosely on his wrists and ankles.  Placing a hand over his mouth she shook him awake. 

 

The powerful Dwarf awoke with a start, his arms flailing and almost hurling Asharia across the cave.  But she had been expecting such a reaction and ducked under his thrashing limbs.  “Shhh!” she cautioned, and to her relief and some surprise Firetong stopped moving at once.  She removed her hand from his mouth and gestured silently toward Steelforge who was still snoring in blissful ignorance.

 

“How…?” Steelforge began, but Asharia held her finger to her lips.  “I’ve no time to explain now,” she whispered.  “Can you move?”

 

The Dwarf nodded.  Asharia knew that he was not in much better shape that she was.  He had not been raped, but he had been forced to carry his weight in iron for several excruciating days.  She saw him grit his teeth and then he silently heaved himself to his feet.

 

“We need weapons,” Asharia cautioned. 

 

Firetong shook his shaggy head and held up his fist.  “This is all the weapon I need.”  He lurched across the cave in the direction of Steelforge.

 

At that moment Steelforge’s snoring stopped.  It was as if some instinct had alerted him.  With a grunt he opened his eyes and rolled to his feet. 

 

He moved surprisingly quickly, snatching up his axe in a single motion and stood, legs slightly apart, the murderous axe held across his body, one hand low on the haft and the other close to the gleaming steel head.  He took in the situation in an instant.  “I don’t know how ye got out of the chains,” he growled, “but ye’ll not be escaping from me.”

 

Firetong halted.  His boast that all he needed was his fists held up poorly against Steelforge’s axe.  Slowly he backed away as Steelforge advanced, until he reached his chains.  Steelforge saw what he was about to do.  Giving Firetong no time to pick up the chains and use them as a weapon he broke into a run, hurling himself across the cave, his deadly axe arcing in a killing swing. 

 

Asharia had been forgotten by both the Dwarfs, no doubt dismissed as being inconsequential.  But she had not spent more than tens years of her short life in training for nothing.  Her fighting instincts took over, and like a true Shebaria she launched herself against the charging Dwarf.

 

It should have been like a terrier attacking a charging bull, but Asharia’s trained reaction was true.  Although exhausted, she called on the last of her resources to hurl herself from the floor, her one hundred pound body slamming into Steelforge like a missile.  The ball of her foot caught the right side of his temple, snapping his head sideways with an audible crunch.  He went down as if he had been pole axed and lay unmoving on the cavern floor.

 

Firetong looked at the panting elf in astonishment.  The effort had taken all of her remaining strength, but she landed on her feet and stood calmly beside the unconscious body of the fallen Dwarf.  “Well,” he rumbled.  “I be taking back what I said about Elves not being able to fight.  Ye did right well, lass.”

 

“And I apologize for thinking that all Dwarfs were bad mannered uncaring idiots,” Asharia responded, smiling a little as she said it.  The adrenaline rush was leaving her and she was close to collapse, but she did not want to let Firetong see it, however, the canny Dwarf was not entirely deceived. 

 

“Sit ye down, lass.  I’ll deal with this scum.”  He moved toward the fallen form of Steelforge. 

 

Asharia took his advice, sinking unthinkingly onto the saddle Steelforge had twice used to rape her.  “What are you going to do?”

 

“March the bastard back to Kharag.  We’ll give him a trial and then sentence him to fifty years in the mines.”

 

“It seems a fitting punishment,” Asharia said, “considering that is what he was going to do with us.”

 

Firetong moved to transfer the irons to Steelforge before he regained consciousness.  “Now,” he said as he clamped the irons over Steelforge’s wrists.  Tell me how ye managed to get these off.”

 

Asharia told him and Firetong grunted.  “Hmm, that’s a bit of a horse turd in the soup.  I can hardly go back to Kharag shouting about Mithril if it’s likely to cause pain to those who saved us.”

 

Asharia breathed a sigh of relief.  She had wondered whether or not Firetong could be persuaded to leave the caverns and the Shlisp alone.  However, the Dwarf was not about to give up on the idea entirely.

 

“Perhaps,” he mused, “yer little invisible pals might not mind just me coming back on me own.  I’d try to keep me thoughts pleasant.”

 

“That might work,” Asharia agreed,  “but make sure it is just you.” 

 

Firetong sighed.  It’s seems a shame not to bring me clan in here.  Mining it by meself will take a lifetime.”

 

“Then it’s a good thing Dwarfs are long-lived,” Asharia replied. 

 

“Ye realize what that much mithril be worth,” Firetong said.  “It would make ye wealthy beyond yer imagination.”

 

“I realize that,” Asharia said, not bothering to mention that wealth as the Dwarfs thought of it had no attraction for Elves.  “You can have my share.”

 

That thought seemed to please Firetong.  “Ye be a generous lass.  I owe ye a favour.”

 

“I can think of only one thing I want,” Asharia said.  “Help me find Delendria.”

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