Rory

Thunderous elephants marched in Rory’s head, rousing her. As her head throbbed, fragmented images of the seconds before she lost consciousness played out between painful pulses.

A smack against her head. Rough hands slung her across a shoulder. Sven belching fire. Explosion after explosion. They were supposed to be dead. Why weren’t they dead? Oh god, where’s Doc and Sven?

She moved to raise a hand towards a tacky spot on the back of her head, but bindings on her wrists allowed only inches of movement. She moaned in pain and waited for her double vision to clear.

There was a sharp bark of laughter nearby and multiple sets of dragging boot steps. A mixture of centuries of grease and gunpowder wafted into her nose, adding nausea to her list of physical complaints.

What seemed like hours passed before the flap of the tent that served as her cell opened and a very pregnant Blueskin woman ambled through. Her skin had an icy shimmer instead of the dark blue Rory saw at the Mount. She held a bowl of water that sloshed with each waddle and a cloth draped over her arm.

“That water, it’s poisoned or diseased or tainted, whatever they want to call it. Keep that away from me.” Rory pulled at her binds.

“Not bad. Good witch stuff. Big Chair said.”

“What?”

“Clean.”

“The water is from Alma?”

The woman nodded and dipped the cloth into the bowl. “Wash blood.” The woman started cleaning the cut.

“That hurts,” Rory said.

“Yes,” the woman replied, working undeterred.

It hurts, but at least the wound is getting cleaned. Calm down. “I’m Rory,” she said. “What’s your name?”

“No more talk.” The woman frowned, and she pushed a little harder, causing Rory to yelp in pain. Laughter erupted from outside.

They were listening out there. In a hushed tone, she asked, “Please tell me where I am.”

Concern warped the woman’s features, and her eyes darted away. “We take you to Big Chair. You his now. Blues not hurt you,” she replied so low Rory could barely hear her.

“Do they hurt you?” Her heart broke at the woman’s terrified glances.

A tear slid down her ice colored cheek, but she shook her head no.

“I’ll get you out of here. How close are they?”

“Three tents. No go. Me stay.” She lovingly caressed her swollen belly.

“What’s your name? Who are you?” Rory let the power fuse itself with her words. She could sense something was different with this Blueskin—if that’s what she was.

“Maggie,” the woman replied, shock written across her face. “My name is Maggie. My family were refugees, but we couldn’t get into Alma. My parents took their own lives after Dad got diseased from the bad water. The Blueskins took me in.” She covered her mouth. “Why did I answer you?” she asked and fell over, moving backwards on her bottom. She said, “Help. Witch magic. Help!” The woman found her footing and ran.

“Shit.” Rory pulled on the pole they’d tied her to, freeing it from the ground and her wrists. The tarp fell on top of her. Panicked, she felt for an opening until her fingers caught an age-weakened hole and she tore. Plastic and fibers bit into her fingers, but she ignored the pain. Still bound, she spun and used her feet to widen the hole until it was large enough to fit through.

It was full dark outside, and Rory hoped the growing shadows would conceal her escape. Blindly sprinting in the opposite direction of camp, yells and footsteps echoed behind her. This is stupid. Without use of her hands, she’d have no way to catch herself if she fell, and worse, it impeded her stride.

A boot caught between rocks and she fell in the opposite direction. There was a pop in her ankle and searing pain. “No. No. No,” she said and tried to stand, only to collapse in anguish when she put weight on the injured leg.

She hung her head in shame and waited for the inevitable.

* * *

“Dumb witch,” a balding Blueskin said. He dropped Rory and staked her to the same spot she’d been, this time without the tent to shelter her. As he walked past, he gave her inflamed ankle a kick.

The air left her, and she doubled over. I can get through this, just need to pull it together and magic my way out of here. Need to breathe. Can’t talk my way out of this without words.

Nearby, a blond Blueskin knelt in front of Maggie, his ear pressed tightly to her belly, laughing with wonder. He jumped back as though the baby had kicked him and giggled in glee. The balding man stormed over to her, pulling the pregnant woman upright. He spat in her face and hit her cheek with the backside of his hand. “Dumb bitch,” he said.

She fell to her knees, cradling her face, shoulders hitching with silent sobs.

The blond man growled, pulled a knife from his boot, and lunged. “My woman. No hit my woman.” They rolled in the dirt, punching and kicking while Maggie watched on with dead, red-rimmed eyes. “MY WOMAN,” he said, savagely stabbing his knife into the other’s neck again and again. Blood poured onto the hard-packed earth.

It’s red. The blood is red. Rory had thought they were something different, alien even. No, they’re just people.

Drained of emotion, she watched as the blond man rushed to Maggie’s side, wiping tears from her cheeks and staining them with the blood of the fallen man. He hugged and kissed her belly, telling the infant inside, “You safe.”

Just more fucked up people in this fucked up world.

Maggie gave Rory a quick glance before entering her tent. The blond man approached Rory. “No run. You stay.”

“Please, you have to let me go.”

The man shook his head before walking away. “Sleep. Big Chair come soon.”

The last of the Blueskins returned to their bedrolls, leaving Rory alone with the dead man. “Just you and me guy.” She squirmed and tried to lift the pole again, but it was deep in the earth. No pulling it out this time.

Voices erupted at the other end of the camp. All the Blueskins left their tents and rushed in the commotion's direction, shouting, “Big Chair” and “Boss guy.”

Maggie waddled to Rory as fast as her belly would allow. “That was stupid earlier. I would have helped you if you’d asked nicely.” The beginnings of a bruise marred her delicate cheek.

“I’m so sorry.” Rory motioned to her bound wrists with her chin. “You can understand though, right?”

Maggie nodded. “Living with the Blueskins isn’t for everyone, but where would I go? Alma? My family died trying to get in there before. What makes you think they’d let a tainted whore inside with a mixed breed in the oven?”

“I didn’t think…”

“Sounds like that’s a problem you should work on. I take it you’re a recent Starfall?”

“Think it’s been about twenty-four hours since I got here. Around that.”

“Well, Ms. Rory, I’ll cut you loose. My husband, Gus, can only stall Big Chair for so long before it’s dangerous. Do me a favor, will you? Think before using your magic.”

“Thank you. I promise. But why are you helping me?”

“Because I’m not a monster and some of the others—well, mostly Highland Blueskins—aren’t either. Be careful of the Lowlanders. They’re twisted and inbred. Everything about them is wrong.” Maggie cut Rory’s binds. “You should know, Big Chair has three more of your kind at his compound.”

Rory’s heart stopped in her chest. “Doc? Sven? Do they have Doc or Sven?”

“I don’t know their names.”

“Is one large and a healer? The other loud and probably suffering through detox. Um, really sick.”

“I remember seeing them from camp. The large one healed my arm after I’d broken it. No. They’re not there.”

Rory sighed in relief.

“A light magic lady with blonde hair, an annoying lady that remembers everything and a freak who yells all the time. Got it? Tell your people. Get them help.”

“He’s got a collection going? Why?”

“I don’t know, but no one deserves to be treated the way they are. Here, one more thing.” Maggie helped her up and handed her a crude crutch. “Be safe and think.” She gave Rory an awkward hug and pushed her gently. “Hurry. Go.”

“Will you be okay?”

Maggie nodded, “I know more than Big Chair thinks. It’ll be fine. Go!”

Rory hobbled away, too afraid to look behind her. Off in the distance, she could hear the booming voice of a man with a southern drawl yell, “The fuck you mean she just went poof. I ain’t got time for this shit. Thought you Highlanders were supposed to be the smart ones.”