Rayvin stalked through the halls, glancing this way and that, but there was still no sign of Savina. She was about to turn and ask Nor if he or any of the troops had caught sight of her, but then she saw something that made her jaw drop. The door was open, the bar thrown to the side. She rushed foreword, pushed the door open, and stared out across the flat plain. In the distance she could see a small, lone figure walking quickly across the barren land.
"Have you found her?"
Rayvin whirled around to face her brother and the eighteen troops behind him, "I sure have!" She pointed, "right there!"
Nor squinted across the valley, then shook his head, "we'll never catch up with her." Rayvin sighed and hung her head, but then he continued, "but we maybe able to help her after all."
~*~
How long had she been walking?
Savina wasn't sure anymore, nor did she care. She walked quickly, with her back straight and her eyes trained on The Dark Tower that was growing larger all the time.
A gust of wind swept across the plain and sent bits of sharp sand into her eyes. Crying out in pain, Savina covered her eyes and tripped over a shiny black rock that was half-buried in the sand. She landed hard on her knees and curled into a ball, sobbing and wrapping her arms around her knees.
She was impossibly tired and hungry. Her arms and legs felt like they were made of stone and her head felt like it was as heavy as a mountain. A constant, sharp hunger pain stabbed into her stomach. Her throat was so parched she didn't think she could talk if she wanted to. Her silver hair was matted with sweat and blood and dirt and was a dull gray color. Her tunic, once crisp and white, was caked with mud and the sleeved were so torn they fluttered around her arms like ribbons. Blood, some of it hers, stained her tunic and pants. Her eyes were sunken and dull and framed with black circles. She was an awful sight.
A dark shadow fell over her.
Squinting against the harsh sun, Savina looked up.
A human man stood over her, what had been a human man anyway. He had probably once been quite handsome, with a strong chin and fair face. His eyes were white and his skin, which was mostly intact, had a bluish tinge. He was tall with broad shoulders and arms rippling with muscles. He wore leather armor characteristic of Gondor, though the front of it was covered with a dark splotch of dried blood, undoubtedly the cause of his death.
Savina coughed and tried to get to her feet, but her legs wouldn't obey her.
The dead human reached toward her slowly.
She didn't flinch away, she couldn't; she was too exhausted to move. She glared up at the zombie and spat, "kill me!"
The man seemed to pause for a moment, then he spoke it a raspy voice, "I won't kill you."
Savina gaped at him, surprised that he spoke.
He continued, "I must take you to my…" he turned his head, revealing a scar on his cheek, and looked at the Dark Tower, "Master." He snapped his head back to face her and reached out to grab her arm.
"Don't touch me!" she tried unsuccessfully to scoot away from his bluish hand.
He grabbed her by the collar of her vest and started to pull her to her feet.
"Get off me!" Savina clawed frantically at the ground, ripping off three of her fingernails and making the tips of her fingers bleed.
The man hauled her to her feet and held her a few inches off the ground at arms length, studying her, a hint of a smile on his face, "you'll make a good slave," he squeezed her arm painfully, "strong, too. My Master will be pleased." He lowered her to the ground, still holding her by the arm, "can you walk?"
Savina couldn't even feel her legs. She knew there was no escape. At least she was going to end up in the Dark Tower, not the way she wanted, but she'd be there. Maybe she could find out what had become of her friends. She straightened her back and yanked her arm away from the zombie, "of course I can walk."
He glanced at her with what appeared to be amusement, then took a length of leather cord and motioned to her, "give me your hands."
"You're tying my hands together?" Savina glared at him in disbelief and put her hands behind her back, "I won't try to escape, I promise."
He studied her with his dull, sunken eyes for a moment, then nodded shortly, "fine, but if you do try to escape," he motioned to the sword hanging at his side and made a slicing motion across his throat. He glanced up at the Dark Tower, which was less than a mile away, "start walking."
Savina bowed her head and began walking; amazed she'd actually prevented herself from being tied. She hadn't expected him to actually let her go untied. She glanced up at him; he seemed brighter, more alert than the zombies that had taken her friends. His movements were quicker and his speech was more coherent. If it weren't for the blood and the bluish tinge to his skin, she'd have thought he was still alive.
The man saw her staring at him and stared back, "what?"
"I just…" she paused, "what's you name?"
His eyes darkened, "I have no name in death."
Savina nearly tripped over another rock, "you aren't dead."
The man gave a short, raspy, bark of a laugh and waved his hand, "are you blind? Do you not see my skin? My blood staining my clothes?"
Savina flinched, "sure, you died, but you aren't dead." The man glared at her furiously, so she continued hurriedly, "to be dead would mean that you are stretched out on the ground, motionless and breathless, wouldn't it?"
He didn't answer her for a moment, then he spoke in a sharp voice, "I died, I believe that means I am dead."
She considered telling him she had died, and that she certainly wasn't dead, but discarded the idea. She shrugged, "have it your way. You must have had a name while you were alive." He was silent, so she continued, "what does your Master call you?"
"Ian." He said shortly, then grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop, gazing up at the Dark Tower, "we'll be there in moments."
Sure enough, Savina could now clearly see the black gate that led to the interior of the fortress of darkness. She could make out the dark shapes of guards standing at the gate and situated around the high torrents and sharp towers that rose darkly into the gray sky.
Ian shook her arm, almost angrily, "I have no name. My Master calls me by no name. You know me by no name. I died, but now I walk to serve my Master, what need do I have for a name?"
Savina flinched and tried to jerk her arm away from him, "you're hurting me!"
He dug his fingers into her arm, staring at her angrily, then his anger seemed to cool and his face smoothed. He loosened his grip on her arm, leaving ugly red marks, and shook himself, staring at the marks, "my Master will not be pleased that I have damaged you, you will not be able to work as hard." His eyes grew a little brighter and his whole body shuddered, "I apologize," he croaked, then seized her arm roughly and started dragging her toward the Tower.
Biting the inside of her lip to keep from crying out in fear, she stumbled along, trying to keep up with the long, purposeful stride of Ian. She wondered about Ian, wondered what battle raged within his tortured mind. She pitied him.
The guards at the gate stared as they approached. Savina noticed that two of them were living humans wearing black armor.
One of the living men, one with masses of curly black hair and a very red face stepped foreword and blocked their path, "what's this?" he sneered, looking Savina up and down.
Ian bowed his head, "I found her walking alone out on the plain. She'll suit the Master as a slave."
The man's lip curled and he laughed loudly, putting his red face very near Savina's, "can you cook, little elf?"
The other living man, who looked like he might be half human and half goblin, gave her a bored look, then shot Ian a disgusted look as he began to open the gate.
Ian moved toward the gate, dragging Savina with him, but the first man pushed the gate shut again and spoke in a low voice to Ian, "how about turning her over to me? I'll take her to the Master."
Ian hardly glanced at him, "no."
The first man swore under his breath, something about "filthy undead idiot," and glanced at Savina his red face breaking into an unpleasant smile, "fine, take her to the Master and seek your reward."
Ian's face remained expressionless, he jerked the gate open and yanked Savina through it into a courtyard filled with all kinds of nasty little creatures milling around.
The man laughed loudly, "it won't matter if you bring him the daughter herself, you stupid corpse, Master will never give you back your life!" Laughing, he slammed the gate.
Savina, stumbling along, glanced at Ian, whose blue face was pinched as if he were in great pain. She shrugged and turned her eyes to the courtyard around her.
Groups of Orcs were fixing arrowheads on shafts. As they passed, one of the Orcs paused in his work to leer at them. Hordes of zombies and living slaves were carrying rocks and bricks and wood. Living humans were watching over the work, barking orders and whipping those who didn't seem to be working, as they should.
Savina scanned the faces of the slaves, hoping to catch sight of one of her friends, but she didn't recognize anyone.
Ian led her to a large, iron door guarded by two solemn zombie guards. They glanced at Ian, then opened the door and stood back to let them pass.
Savina paused and stared upward, at the black, vertical wall of stone. High, high above them, at the top of the tower, was a large window.
Ian tugged at her arm, "what are you staring at, come on."
Savina followed him inside the tower, up a narrow, winding staircase. There was no railing on the staircase, and Savina clung to the wall in terror of losing her balance and falling over the side. After a few minutes and a couple hundred stairs, a wave of dizziness washed through Savina and she swayed on her feet, her hands scrabbling on the wall, looking for a handhold.
Ian stopped and turned around, looking annoyed, "what are you doing? Why are you slowing down?" He sighed and stared at her, "do I need to carry you?"
"No," Savina steadied herself against the wall and shook herself, "I'm fine."
"Well, then hurry up," Ian said irritably, then turned and began climbing the stairs again.
Savina glanced down the stairs, wondering where Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli were. Then she turned and hurried to catch up with Ian.
After a few more minutes of climbing the winding stairs, Ian stopped at a stout wooden door and looked down at her, "my Master's quarters," he explained, then gestured to her, "make yourself presentable."
Reaching up and feeling her tangled hair, matted with blood and filth, Savina snorted, knowing she looked like one of the more decayed zombies.
Ian shrugged and knocked on the door.