Elora: Part 1

Elora stood atop the cliff, overlooking the fertile valley she had been made to call home. Dark grey clouds swarmed and roiled overhead, gathering in a thick blanket, completely shrouding the rays from the twin moons. Their angry hues matched the color of Elora’s eyes, eyes that flicked back and forth across the landscape before her, noting the absence of livestock and their keepers. Everyone else had wisely sought shelter from the early spring storm that promised to be vicious. Already the wind tugged more than playfully at Elora’s skirt and took mischievous pleasure in tangling her blond hair. She shivered, folding her arms tightly against the chill as the wind bit into her skin.

Elora enjoyed standing amongst the rocks, surveying the valley below. She took comfort from the sheer force of the storm wrapping around her, letting her fury blend into that of the elements. She would scream out her frustration, and the roar of the wind would snatch the words away and scatter them.

The first rain began to fall, at first nothing more than a light mist. Then the drops grew larger and the wind caught them, turning them into a driving force that pelted everything in its path and stung Elora’s uplifted face. She wore a reckless grin as lightning illuminated the valley for a heartbeat. Eight beats later, thunder exploded from the sky, hitting the rock face of the cliff and careening off the hills, building in intensity before melting into the sound of the rain.

Elora squinted against the blinding rain that now fell in sheets around her, obscuring her vision and drenching her clothes. Lightning flared again, followed more closely by the roar of thunder, but not so close as to cause Elora alarm. She threw her arms to the sky, reveling in nature’s rage that mirrored her tumultuous emotions.

“I will be free, Kanar!” She hurled the ultimatum towards the heavens, not caring that the gale ripped the words from her mouth no sooner than they were uttered. “Mark this well! I will be free!”

Though she screamed, her voice was dwarfed by the sound of wind, rain, and thunder. Gradually, she calmed, lowering her arms and ceasing to fling curses at her master. She took a step back from the edge of the cliff, brushing aside the wet hair that hung in her face.

“—lor—“

Elora glanced around, not sure if she had imagined the snip of sound the wind carried to her ears.

“—ra!”

The sound was more distinct but the gale was greedy, keeping most of the word for itself. Her heart beat faster as she envisioned Kanar coming to drag her back. That image was quickly laughed away: Kanar would never venture out in this weather after a mere slave himself, no matter the intensity of his rage

“Elora!”

That she was sure she had not imagined. She turned slightly, searching unobtrusively for the owner of the voice.

“Elora!”

She could barely discern a figure, hunched against the sheets of rain, making steady progress up the path to Elora’s vantage point.

She sighed, vexed. She had told no one where she was going, and she was sure no one had followed her. She waited, not making a move to greet the intruder, or even let him know she was aware of his presence.

“Elora.”

A hand rested on her shoulder at the same moment he said her name in her ear. She stood motionless for a moment, then turned her head slowly. She had known it would be Dake, even before she heard his voice. He was the only one—with the possible exception of Valin—who could have guessed where she would be.

Elora looked up into his eyes. They were grey, but far lighter than her own and lacking the rage that lurked within hers. He stood a good hand span taller than her own five feet, eight inches. His dusty-blond hair was slicked to his forehead, obscuring the small, peculiar, half-circle scar he bore above his left eyebrow. Water ran down his face in rivulets, dripping off his chin and splashing onto the oilskin cloak that shed the rain as fast as it could fall.

“I’m not going back, Dake. Not yet.”

Dake pulled out a bundle from beneath his cloak. “I’m not here to take you back,” he said, leaning close so he wouldn’t have to yell above the storm. “I thought you might be hungry.” He produced a loaf of bread and offered it to her.

Elora considered refusing. She despised being pitied, and believed it weakness to need charity. But then her stomach growled, and she rationalized that the bread was getting wet and would be ruined in short order. She accepted it with mumbled thanks.

As she busied herself with the bread, Dake unfurled the rest of the bundle and draped the waterproof cape around her shoulders before she could protest. He smiled and tugged her arm.

“Come, sit where we can hear ourselves think.”

He led her to a small alcove within the rocks, perfectly situated to keep them dry, as well as offer a splendid view of the storm. It was just big enough for a snug fit. Elora found herself wedged against Dake before she could explain that she liked standing in the rain.

“Kanar’s in a fury,” Dake said in casual, conversational tones. Elora shot him an alarmed glance as he continued. “Seems that one of the other girls saw you leave as the clouds began to gather. Kanar’s got it into his head that you’ll try to run off.”

“I’m not fool enough to try that again,” she muttered. She didn’t add that, even though she still bore the marks of her last attempt on her back, she hadn’t completely given up on the idea. Kanar’s slave catchers were brutal, but Elora held that she would stand a chance against them. Someday.

Dake smiled down at her and slipped his arm around her shoulder. “I know.”

Elora stiffened at his touch and tried to shrug it away, a difficult task in such close quarters. “Then why are you here?” she demanded.

He looked surprised. “I was worried about you, Elora.”

“Why? Why should you worry?”

“Is it so hard to believe that somebody cares about you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I knew you probably hadn’t eaten. Storm-watching is a hungry affair.” He winked.

Elora did not know whether to be flattered or infuriated. She glared at him sidelong, but he was now looking out at the valley, seemingly engrossed with studying the rain. Satisfied that he was not laughing at her, Elora relaxed a bit and watched the storm wreak havoc on the valley below.

Elora woke with a start, jerking upright, cheeks flaming at the discovery that she had been nestled against Dake’s shoulder like a lovesick shepherdess. She tried to shoulder her way into the rock beside her to make space between them. Dake’s eyebrows rose, but he did not comment.

“You’ve been sleeping,” he said casually. “The storm has lessened, and you must return before Kanar does anything drastic.”

The chill that shuddered down her back had nothing to do with the breeze that had been birthed from the gale. The rain was still pouring from the sky as if the Shepherd god was trying to water his flocks, but the worst of the storm had been swept away. A small break in the clouds to the east showed the first rays of dawn.

Dake spoke truth. Kanar would notice Elora’s absence, and she winced at the thought that he might call on his slave catchers if he had the merest whisper of suspicion that she had fled. She sighed and tried to stand. Her right leg was mostly numb, with a painful tingle above her knee. It threatened to buckle, and she caught herself against a rock just in time.

Dake reached for her arm and helped steady her. “Careful,” he cautioned.

She tried to disengage her arm from his hand. “I can handle myself quite well, thank you,” she said tightly. She stretched her leg, trying to get the blood flowing. It throbbed painfully.

Dake nodded solemnly, but did not remove his hand.

The first step she attempted nearly dropped her to her knees. She would have found herself planted in the mud had Dake not tightened his hold and borne her weight. Wisely, he didn’t say anything, didn’t throw her words back. For that, she granted him grudging, mumbled thanks. He silently helped her regain her footing and still refused to let go.

Though she would never have admitted it, she was grateful for his assistance. Cloth boots and wet rocks, combined with the lingering affects of sleep ensured that her balance was anything but steady. Telling that to Dake would have shown her weakness, and she could live without his attention and pity.

They worked their way down the steep incline, through the rain that drenched the land. Elora maintained a stony silence that Dake did little to break. She noted that he didn’t ask why she had gone to the cliffs, and she didn’t volunteer the reason. For her part, she didn’t ask how he knew she was up there. She didn’t like the idea that he knew her habits so well.

Her leg was back to normal by the time they set foot on level ground. Up close, the valley was more lush and vibrant than ever. The plants greedily drank in the water the clouds provided and seemed to drip green into the earth. The beauty of nature thriving in the fertile ground was marred for Elora by the sight of the house sprawled on a large patch of land half a league away. It was Kanar’s manor, and she lived for the day when she could turn her back on it and leave forever. It was that hope, the hope of freedom that gave her the strength to endure whatever Kanar threw her way.

With every step towards the manor, Elora could feel a growing sense of dread. It had been a mistake to leave for so long, but she had desperately needed to get away. She regretted falling asleep, but it couldn’t be helped. Dake escorted her to the hut she shared with three other girls, skirting around behind the main house. They had just reached the door when a bellow broke through the steady drone of rain.

“Where is she?”

It was Kanar. The harsh rasp, the perpetual anger in his voice was unmistakable. Elora took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself.

“You’d better go,” she told Dake. “He’s livid. If he finds out you were helping me, he’ll—“

“I’ll head him off,” he said abruptly.

She started to protest that she could fight her own battles, that she didn’t need help, but he was already gone, the sound of his footsteps masked by the rain.

A sigh slipped between her lips as she went inside. She changed from her sopping clothes that clung stubbornly to her thin body into a dry outfit. She was trying to wring the water from her hair when Valin burst into the room.

“Elora?”

She was sitting just out of his sight, and she turned a smile towards the man who was her surrogate father. He was tall enough to need to duck through the doorway to avoid hitting his grey-haired head. She had seen that the lines around his green eyes were tense with worry, and she sought to ease his mind.

“I’m here.” She pushed her hair out of her face.

He turned to her, relief playing freely across his face. “Thank the gods,” he said with a fervency that sent a small stab of remorse through her.

“Where else would I be?” She carefully schooled her features into a perfect expression of innocence.

Valin eyed her as he would a naughty child. “Some of us were worried that you might have tried to run off during the storm. Kanar worked himself into a fury, ranting about how he would hunt you down and drag you back himself.”

She frowned. “What makes him think I haven’t been here throughout the storm?”

“One of the serving girls thought she saw you walking away towards the mountains.”

“Deliah?” Elora suppressed a grimace.

“Yes.” He studied her curiously. “Where did you go? Don’t tell me you were here. Your boots are drenched.”

Elora gazed steadily into the old man’s kind blue eyes and debated whether she should tell the truth. Valin was the closest thing she had to a father since being sold as a slave when she was seven, right after watching her real father’s murder. Valin had always been there to listen or give advice, but she didn’t dare trust him or anyone else with her yearning for freedom. No one would understand. They had been born into slavery, and accepted it just as they accepted the rising of the sun, or the coming of seasons.

“I just went for a walk,” she said smoothly. “I didn’t go far. I needed some time to think.”

He stared deep into her eyes and she felt as if he were staring right through her and could see all her secrets. She looked down almost sheepishly.

Valin finally nodded. “You’d best go and prove to Kanar that you’re not run off somewhere, before he has an apoplexy and takes it out on you.

She followed him out of the hut into the relentless drizzle, quite sure that she wouldn’t care if Kanar really did have an apoplexy.