Gayaer the Merciless

Zalaya walked from her tent to her waiting horse drawing all sorts of curious looks from the captains and their gathered men. She was dressed in soft leather breeches and a matching shirt with intricate beadwork on it. Her fur parka and pants were neatly rolled and strapped to her saddlebag, but she had no saddle, just a fur trimmed leather pad strapped to his back. Everything about her gear and attire was authentic Lossoth and none of them had seen it before. She wore her hair loose and her face was set in confident determination as she mounted up. She even had weapons, retrieved from the hunters that had been caught. In truth, it was an impressive sight, one that Godwin had seen before and forgotten. He stood with his arms crossed and his jaw tight. Everyone was watching, and he didn't want to make a spectacle of her departure, but something had to be said.

"Zalaya," he said quietly, calling her over.

"Ranger?" she answered as she rode over to him.

He gazed up at her with deep concern in his eyes, "You do not have to do this. The risk could be very great."

She frowned at his words, "I risk nothing with you and your men preparing to attack. I trust you and the rest of these men to rescue me and everyone else in that evil place. Worry not; I can take care of myself."

Godwin sighed, "Don't hesitate to call the animals for help if something goes wrong, I mean that."

Zalaya smiled at him and whispered, "Peace Ranger; all will be well." She gave her horse a gentle nudge with her knee and rode out at a light pace. Once she was clear of the camp, she broke into a canter, disappearing into the woods.

Godwin watched with worry in his eyes until she was out of sight. He knew they needed eyes in the canyon, but he didn't like risking anyone, especially Zalaya. Alasseo joined him and crossed his arms, sighing.

"I'm surprised you agreed to this," he said flatly.

"So am I," Godwin said lightly but then his expression turned dark and he spoke with anger. "The plan was a good one, but if any harm comes to her, not one of those evil elves will leave that canyon alive."

"Was that not always the plan?" Alasseo asked with a cocked brow.

"Lady Nyére has claimed judgment over them, if any live to be judged," Godwin said.

"Where is your mercy now, cousin?" Alasseo asked.

"I lost it somewhere between Deadwood Tavern, the Merciless Road and that slave auction. When the evils of this land are all punished, perhaps it will return," Godwin answered angrily. "Come, we must organize the riders for the attack. I don't want any mistakes. There are too many innocent people inside for us to be careless."

Tozgrit watched the Morzethu ride out of camp unescorted and smiled at his good fortune. She didn't ride to meet her dragon; she rode right up into the mountains dressed in all her Lossoth glory. She was like a vision, a wild and beautiful huntress, a powerful symbol of the strength of his people. His position would be exposed if he followed her now, but soon, very soon he would catch up to his quarry. He watched as soldiers organized for some sort of move, riders prepared and orders were shouted. The entire force was not moving out and he wondered at what their purpose was. He would have to be cautious. He could not risk being seen again by either that King or the dragon. It would take all his skill and experience to manage it, but he would recapture his chosen bride, his people's Morzethu and the Ring she wore. Soon they would all be his again and he would rule Forodwaith with more authority and power than Tragarz had. It was time that the strength of the Lossoth was known again. He was just the man to make that happen.
Skrug had not found reason to make his presence known until he saw Zalaya leaving. He took to the air, staying low over the trees until he caught up to her, landing in a small clearing not far from the camp. He looked at her questioningly, and she just glared at him.

"Stay with the army, they may have need of you," she said firmly.

"Where are you going woman? Why are you riding unescorted? Why have you not called for me?" he asked his questions quickly, his black eyes full of concern. "Why are you armed and dressed in that manner?"

"I am going hunting, and it is my hope that they will catch me so I can get a good look inside their camp. The Army need eyes inside…" she tried to explain quickly but he interrupted.

"Your king goes too far," Skrug said angrily. "I'll not have it…"

"Peace, dragon," she said quickly, "You are not my master! The Ranger didn't order this, I volunteered."

"Foolish woman," Skrug said angrily. "I do not like it."

"You have guarded me too long, Skrug. I am able to look after myself," she said with a sigh. "If the need arises, I will call you, but you must not interfere unless I call. They may harm the prisoners before the army can arrive."

Skrug gave a snort, "Go then, stubborn Morzethu. I will listen for your call."

Zalaya gave a nod and rode on, but Skrug was still upset. He glanced through the trees at the camp where men were preparing to ride out. He wanted a word with that King, and he wanted it now. He walked through the last few trees and stood like a great monument on the edge of camp. All activity ceased and the men stared in awe at the enormous blue beast now glaring at them. One soldier slowly reached for an arrow in his quiver, but Godwin's voice boomed in the sudden silence.

"No one move!" he ordered as he walked over to meet Skrug. "I know why you are here, my friend."

Skrug looked at him with annoyance, "No you do not, little King, I am here to give you warning. Do not fail in this plan of yours or when next we meet, do not presume to call me friend."

Godwin's expression was a mixture of worry and guilt, "Follow her, keep watch and listen for her call. If there is any chance she will be harmed, you have my permission to intervene. I never liked her plan, but we did need a spy…"

Skrug frowned, "Stubborn woman. I will watch and you'd best be on your way as well. It is a long ride on the ground."

Skrug took flight and was quickly out of sight, skimming the treetops, careful to not be seen. He didn't want to interfere unless it was necessary. It would be good for this King to be the hero for the Morzethu. Perhaps she would look on him with favor again.

Godwin turned back to his waiting men who were still staring after the retreating dragon. He understood the fascination, but there was no time to waste. "Mount up, our enemy lies over this mountain," Godwin said as he sat tall in his saddle. "Today we put fear into the hearts of slavers in this land. Onward now, to our fist victory!"

There was an answering cheer in answer as men fell into line with their companies. Polodrin led twenty of his Rangers, Cilmo led twenty Elf Rangers, and Aragorn led twenty knights. Godwin led his thirty Rangers, Richter led twenty men and Alcon and Legolas rode in escort to Nyére who refused to stay behind. She wanted to be close at hand to deal with any prisoners. Each had their positions and orders. This would be a test of skill and stealth, and it would be a testament of things to come. The war would begin and end with the liberation of slaves. Today, the Overlord would return.

Zalaya was aware that Skrug shadowed her, but he left no signs to be seen. She hoped that she would be good enough bait for these slavers. She wanted to do whatever she could to help her Ranger. His noble desire to free the slaves first made her very proud. She glanced down at the ring on her finger and realized that they might take it from her. She thought of hiding it, but knew there was no place to keep it. She would have to hope they did not notice it. She turned it around so only the band showed, hiding the stone and inscription inside her hand. That was the best she could do.

The sun was still climbing when she was aware of being surrounded. They were hidden, but she knew they were there. She could easily command their horses to dump them, but she was supposed to be caught. Fine, she didn't have to walk in blindly, though.

"Show yourselves! I am no fool to enter a trap," she said harshly.

Six Elves, all with dark hair and angry looks came out of hiding with arrows aimed at her. She was at their mercy now, and there was nothing to be done without giving away her gift. She frowned, drew her blade and looked at the one who appeared to be the leader.

"I will manage to get one of you, I think you will be my choice," she said, touching the point of her curved blade.

He held up a hand to still his elves a moment, "Woman, you are caught. It is not our wish to harm you, if you come peacefully."

"There is harm, and there is…harm," she said meaningfully.

He looked at her pointedly, "Our business does not profit from harm," he said flatly. "Drop your weapons, or you will learn the skills of Avari warriors the hard way. I assure you, your blade will do you no service, save to anger me."

Zalaya measured his words by his eyes and knew he was not bluffing. She visibly paled and gulped before lowering her blade. They disarmed her quickly, and her hands were bound. One was going to pull her from her horse and she halted him quickly.

"I will ride with dignity, or you may kill me, but I will not be manhandled!" she said angrily. "I have surrendered as you ordered."

Their leader motioned him away, "Very well. What name shall we call you, woman?"

"No name will I give you," she said.

"What is your heritage then, nameless one?"

She was silent, and he frowned.

"What were you doing on our mountain?" he pressed.

"Hunting," she said.

It was mid morning and Amortio lounged in his tent already draining his first bottle of wine. He hated this canyon, hated men, hated Rhûn and hated his miserable existence. But he liked gold, and he liked wine, and he liked... fear. Fear was intoxicating. Oh, the power you feel when people fear you. He rested his head and stretched, crossing his legs comfortably. The faint squeak of leather on leather as his boots rubbed was the only sound to disturb him and he was content. He ran a finger over the scar that marked his cheek, soothing away an itch. Damned slaves! He'd be rid of this batch of slaves soon and could take a short respite from training before a new bunch arrived. It was always the same, children crying, women begging and one or two young boys who wanted to be heroes. They were always the first to be dealt with. That was his job, subduing rebellion. The slaves called him Gayaer and he reveled in the title. Dreaded one. He sighed and smiled, lost in thought. Fear me, yes… fear me.

"Gayaer, your presence is needed at the block," Listos, a rough looking elf said with a sneer. "We have a defiant boy who needs your special teaching."

Amortio looked at him with disdain as he took the whip from his belt and ran his hands over the smooth leather handle. "You speak as a slave, Listos. Do you dread me as they do? Should I remind you of the reason for such a title?" he asked as he uncoiled his weapon of choice and stood to face the messenger with near fury in his eyes.

"Away with your threats, Amortio," Listos said angrily. "Save your energy for the boy."

"What was his crime?" Amortio asked lightly as he headed out of the tent.

"He met my eyes and called me a foul name. Such behavior is unacceptable," Listos said in annoyance.

"You should have just struck him immediately," Amortio said quickly. "They are near the end of training, why would he remain defiant now? Your teaching techniques are slipping. Must I do everything?"

"Just go and do your job. I want an example made of him," Listos said bitterly. "He has fought the training since the beginning. He will never make it to market, never."

Amortio looked at him curiously, "You're willing to take a loss?"

"I'm giving you free reign. I know how you enjoy a good flogging," Listos said with a smirk. "This time you don't have to hold back."

"And they call me Gayaer," Amortio said dryly. "Perhaps you would like to do it yourself?"

Listos ignored the comment and motioned for the boy to be brought out. Two Elves had hold of his arms and dragged him kicking and screaming to the center of the camp. There was a large stone with shackles chained to it. It had been grey once but now it was reddish brown with years of bloodstains. It was simply called the block, and no one who was chained to it ever left unscarred. The boy saw Gayaer and stopped struggling. He stood tall and defiant with his chin high. He would not show weakness now, not with everyone watching.

Amortio frowned at his boldness. It was forbidden for slaves to look their masters in the eyes. "You have made yourself a liability, boy. It is bad business for us to turn out defiant slaves."

"Do your worst, Gayaer. Death is better than slavery," the boy announced loudly so the other prisoners could hear.

Amortio smiled at the challenge. He would indeed enjoy making an example of this boy. All that bravado would fade quickly when the pain began. "Chain him down. A few lashes will change his defiance to screams for mercy."

The boy was bound with his chest against the block and his shirt was ripped off. Everyone stood back, leaving a clear view of the boy for those in the cages. Amortio turned to them, his face hard like stone. He pointed to the boy and spoke with icy roughness.

"Watch and remember the price of rebellion," he said, and then swung his whip back for the first blow. Just as he was about to strike, there was a call from the watch up on the cliff.

"The scouts return with a prisoner!"

Amortio lowered his whip and looked toward the entrance where the riders would enter. Six riders led a seventh horse that carried a woman. She'd been bound, but they'd allowed her to ride upright, a clear breach of normal conduct. He looked at her closely, intrigued by her foreign features. Easterlings were pale, but her skin was tanned. He'd never seen attire like hers before, and he suddenly lost interest in the boy.

"Throw him in the hole for now. I would see to our newest prisoner," Amortio said as he coiled up his whip and hung it back on his belt. He liked new prisoners. He always managed to find their fears and exploit them. Then there was the branding… He smiled at the memory of the smell hot iron made when pressed against human flesh and the hissing sound. Screaming was always involved and he just loved screaming.

The riders halted in front of him and he looked at the woman more closely. She sat tall and proud in the saddle, looking at him with boredom, as if she were not in the least bit of danger. He found her manner bold, yet not as annoying as the boy's. She was definitely foreign, but it gave her a unique exotic look. Her attire seemed primitive, though her features were striking, as humans go, but her eyes… By the stars, what eyes! Blue-green eyes, with beauty and spirit like that; she would fetch a very high price. One of his guards yanked her roughly form her horse, and Amortio lost his temper.

"Fool! Would you mar her features before she goes to market? Can you not see what a prize this one is?" he shouted as he struck the elf on the back of the head and wrenched the prisoner from his grasp. He looked down at her, but she did not deign to look at him.

"Who are you?" he demanded in the easterling dialect.

She ignored him, not understanding a word he'd said.

"Westron, you speak westron?" he asked, gaining a glance and a slight nod.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"At the moment, it appears I am your prisoner," Zalaya said flatly.

Amortio's reaction surprised everyone in the camp, including Zalaya. He laughed, actually laughed at her evasive answer. He turned to his scouts for an account of where they'd found her.

"She was riding in the hills, not very far from here. She claimed to be hunting, and she was well armed for it," he said, unrolling a blanket that held a bow, quiver, dagger and a large menacingly sharp curved blade.

Amortio looked at her again, "You are not easterling, where do you come from?"

"I am Lossoth," Zalaya said. "Release me, and I will be on my way peacefully."

Amortio smiled, "You are in no position to demand anything, woman. What is a Lossoth huntress doing in the east?"

"I grew tired of the cold," she said with a smirk as she glanced up at him. He was an Elf, but he was nothing like those in the west. He had an evil arrogance about him, and his once handsome features were interrupted by a deep scar in his right cheek. His long dark hair was oily and unkempt, but it was the same with all of them. What she noticed most was the coldness in his eyes. He looked at her like she was nothing, and it made her shiver involuntarily.

"Are you married?" he asked.

"No."

He smiled, "Then are you a maid, or a whore?"

She felt insulted, but didn't know which answer would benefit her more. For some reason, she thought she would be making a mistake if she lied. "I am untouched, and would remain so, to my death if need be," she said angrily. "I need no weapon to fight off an evil…"

He interrupted her bluster with a laugh, "Excellent! Faulghaunt would pay dearly for this one."

Listos smiled wickedly and crossed his arms as thoughts of gold floated through his head, "Turais would pay much more."

Amortio slowly turned and looked at his partner with distaste, "And they call me Gayaer."

Zalaya's hands twisted in her bonds and Amortio stilled them. "Do not mar your skin by struggling. Scars do not become you and they will lower your price," he said and then looked at Listos. "No brand for this one, we'll put a collar on her."

Listos gave him a nod of approval. "Now, what about that boy?"

"Later, I have something more interesting to occupy me now." He looked back at his newly acquired prisoner and smiled, "Come, Lossoth Huntress. It is time we discussed your new life," he said with an avaricious smile as he led her toward a cave in the cliff. Once he had her collared and outfitted, he'd put her in a private cell. This was most certainly his lucky day.

It was dusk, and all of Godwin's men were silently taking their places around the canyon. The horses had been left some distance back to avoid unnecessary noise. This was not an attack on horseback; it was going to be descent on ropes into a hole. Aragorn surveyed the layout of the camp, carefully remaining concealed in his grey cloak. There were indeed cages, and as he searched them, there was no sign of Zalaya. He saw the tents, and the fires, but not many Elves. That is when he noticed the cave entrance, now illuminated by fires within. He scanned the cliffs for Godwin, and found him across from him, above the cave. He caught his eye and pointed. Godwin observed him, and nodded his understanding. He had feared that there would be more than they saw. He decided to wait and watch. He wanted to see who was giving the orders down there. And he wanted to know where Zalaya was before he ordered any attack. He wouldn't risk her being hurt by mistake.
Zalaya paced back and forth in the small cell they'd placed her in. It had been hours since that horrible elf humiliated her with this evil collar. It was metal, and it was barely bigger than her neck. She hated it, despised what it stood for, and she detested that evil scar-faced Elf. Her stomach growled and she sat down and stared at the floor. Her clothes had been taken and she was forced to wear this scratchy plain drab sackcloth. It felt uncomfortable and it was barely modest, reaching only barely past her knees. She tucked her legs up close and pulled the offensive gown down to cover herself when she heard his sickening voice again.

"Huntress, what is your name?" Amortio asked.

"Slave, prisoner… you choose one," she said angrily, refusing to look at him.

"Names usually mean little, but you interest me. I have never seen a Lossoth before. Almost I wish I could keep you for myself," he said wistfully.

"No you don't," she said. "Anyone who could beat a child has no feelings."

Amortio's eyes grew cold at her bold words. "The boy still lives, which is a gift. Listos wanted me to flog him to death, but I gave him mercy."

Zalaya met his eyes, "What is your name?"

He smiled, "I am Amortio." He didn't know why he gave her his true name, it just came out. For some reason he didn't want her to fear him.

"No, who are you?" she asked seriously.

His smile faded, "Gayaer the merciless."

"Hmmm," she said. "That's what I thought. You may go, Gayaer." She dismissed him and turned away, as if he were beneath her. It infuriated him, but he was left dumbfounded by her continued confidence.

"What manner of woman are you, Lossoth?" he asked her in exasperation.

"Just a huntress…" she said softly.

He stared at her back, and his hand rested on his whip. He should punish her, but that would be foolish. She was purposely taunting him; that is what it was.

"I was going to bring you food, but tonight you can go hungry. Continue to defy me and you will lose another meal and another. You will learn, or I will be forced to punish you more harshly," he said firmly.

She remained silent, and he nearly went for the cage door, but stopped himself. He let out a snort of annoyance and stormed out of the cave. He needed a drink. This was not going to be easy. Taming this Lossoth without beating her would be more work than he was used to. At this rate, he'd just sell her to Turais without any guilt at all. She'd have earned it.

With the sun setting, the camp was quiet untilAmortio stormed out of the cave ranting in Sindarin. "That damned Lossoth tries my patience! When she's ready for market, show her to Turais first. I am through with kindness."

Listos roared with laughter, "If that is the case, why not finish what you started with that boy?"

"Strap him down, I'm ripe with anger," Amortio said bitterly. "You'll have your flogging after all."

Godwin watched in horror as they took a young boy from a pit and chained him to a rock. At the sight of the whip he stood, raised his hand high and gave a shout, "Attack!"

Amortio looked up and his expression went from fury to fear. "We're under attack! To the caves!"