Chapter 5

Strides-Tall's awakening was the exact reverse of what she had experienced when the Dyals took her. The darkness parted before her eyes as she forced them open - the lids felt like slabs of lead - and blurry patches of colour, mostly dark shades, gradually solidified into recognisable shapes. A chest, reinforced with bands of metal, a broken chair - a door...

The elf picked herself up, and crept over to the door. There was no magic involved this time, but the door was lacking a handle all the same. There was a lock, however, and that gave the girl hope. All I have to do now find something I can use as a lock-pick, she thought. That, and find out just where I am...

Her eyes adjusting to the dim light, provided by pulsing glass tubes up where the ceiling and walls met, the adventuress saw that she was in some kind of store-room, containing a variety of items, most of which appeared to be broken. Much of the floor, though, was covered by a heap of clothing, and the majority of that was intact, and in excellent, if not brand new condition. At last - something to wear, she thought, and began hunting through the garments.

Almost immediately, Strides-Tall came across something that made her heart skip a beat. Delving deep into the pile, her fingers came into contact with smooth, supple leather and, holding her breath, she pulled her discovery out into the light...

The elf had found one of a pair of thigh-length boots, made from fabulous rich brown leather, with jewels ranging in size from thumb-print to hens-egg around the top, which was angled up towards the front, then down at the very front to form a shallow "M" shape. The heels were a bit higher than she was accustomed to, but they did not taper as sharply as spiked heels.

I have to have these, she said to herself. This world owes me...

Sifting through the pile, the elf quickly found the other boot, and laid both to one side, along with a leather satchel, a loose-fitting near-transparent blouse, a fascinating leather crotch-piece that buckled on with four straps, a fifth strip of leather extending up to a buckled choker...

Strides-Tall paused mid-way through her rummaging as an unwelcome thought came to her. These are all women's things, she realised. So, where are the owners?

A number of possibilities presented themselves, none of which Strides-Tall liked to think about. The former owners of her new-found treasures were now slaves, corpses floating in space...or gracing someone's banquet table as the main dish. I have to get out of here - wherever here is, she thought, becoming anxious. I'm pretty sure I'm not in Mashilahantradar's palace any more. The air is different, and this place feels more like an old ship.

The elf peeped through the keyhole, and saw a dimly lit wooden wall not far away, on the other side of a narrow passage. This went some way to confirming her suspicion, as did the creaking of timbers that she heard when she listened carefully for sounds from her surroundings. There was also a distant humming sound, carried through the lighting tubes, leading the elf to assume that this was not a ship of any kind she had encountered before.

Goodbye Mashilahantradar, hello...what?, thought Strides-Tall. I may have to take a few risks to find out.

The elf scoured the store-room from top to bottom for useful items, venturing into the darkest corners of the room and the depths of the unlocked chest. Treasure, for her, was a broken cloak clasp, the pin making an excellent lock-pick, and she went to store it away in the top of her boot - only to be reminded that she had other boots that cried out to be tried on, even if they had once been the property of someone who was now enslaved or dead.

Putting them on, wearing them, taking them off - everything Strides-Tall did with her long vinyl boots was an excursion into excitement, and this occasion was no different. Sitting on the pile of clothes, the elf grasped her right boot by the toe and the back of the concave, hour-glass heel and pulled, but as she expected, the boot did not budge the first time. More effort - and more sweat - was required, and the skin-tight boot only released Strides-Tall from its glistening clutches when she let out a rather unladylike grunt and applied all the force her sweat-moistened hands could deliver.

The boot came off quite suddenly, slithering against the elf's leg and nearly springing out of her grip as the tension in its elastic fabric was released. The other was a little easier, the fit loosened by the warm of the girl's body, and she put the boots to one side with hands trembling with excitement.

Strides-Tall's exhilaration was indescribable as she held the jewelled boots against her bare breasts and stomach. The leather was quite exquisite, shiny without being coated with the lacquer used to make patent leather, and the elf relished the feel of it sliding against her leg as she pulled on the first boot. The boot - the right - went on easily, the girl's foot plunging down inside without obstruction until it reached the narrow area at the ankle, but one brief tug got her foot past it, popping snugly into place.

Quickly, she repeated the procedure with the left boot, lifting her leg high and holding her breath until the task was done. She then leaned back, her head almost touching the discarded garments she lay upon, and stretched her legs up and out to their limits, wriggling her feet to make sure her toes did not stick together or overlap. They couldn't be a more prefect fit, she thought, the leather seeming to shrink to skin-clinging snugness. I hope the last owner appreciated them as much as I do.

Strides-Tall almost leapt to her feet, such was her eagerness to walk in the new boots. The moment she stood up, she knew she would not be disappointed, such was the sensation of such fine warm leather moving against - and with - her legs. The elf wished there had been a mirror to hand, preferably one that would have reflected her image from head to toe, but for now, just wearing the boots would have to do. There'll be time to admire them when I escape, she told herself. That's the next order of business...

Almost by instinct, the elf froze as a new sound came within the range of her hearing. Down the passage came a rhythmic clattering, with the occasional added sound of loose leather flapping against itself - a sound Strides-Tall had heard from time to time whilst walking on a chain behind Mashilahantradar. A Dyal in that old-fashioned armour, she deduced. A male, by the weight of his footsteps.

Strides-Tall found herself caught on the horns of a dilemma - stay where she was, or dash for cover - when the rattling armour went quiet outside her door. The warrior Dyal tried the door, found it still locked, and continued down the corridor, out of earshot.

If the door's locked, they're satisfied that I'm still here, observed the adventuress. Good...

 The lock was alien in design, but Strides-Tall soon defeated it with her long golden pin, and crept out into the passage. There was little opportunity to hide, so she moved quickly, picking a direction as before and following it as she as she could. She was glad that there appeared to be no guards, but she offered no thanks, afraid that doing so would usher in disaster.

From time to time, as she moved with cat-like stealth along the corridor, the girl heard voices behind the doors she passed, and eavesdropped on the conversations. Generally, nothing of any significance was said, except for one particular occasion when she overheard the Skywolves' Battlemaster talking to his subordinates.

"...if we could, but we have no choice in the matter. Now that we know that the High Cabal will not support us, it is even more vital that we amass funds from whatever source we can. We must sell the girl when we reach Kattan'Gyar - let that be an end to it."

"The girl" being who else...?, thought an increasingly uneasy Strides-Tall.

"At least let her dance for us, just once, as the others did, Battlemaster!", pleaded another male Dyal. Other voices, male and female, were raised in support.

The Dyal leader spoke again. "Very well", he said, albeit grudgingly. "Tasra, make the arrangements. Bring the girl to the feast-hall when we are done here."

Strides-Tall did not hear anything more. She was already scurrying back to the store-room.

Twice she nearly dropped her precious lock-pick as she hurried to get the door open, but the lock sprang open, then clicked shut behind her with just seconds to spare. The elf barely had time to make it look like she was sleeping on the heap of clothes before a key rattled in the lock...

A female Dyal, armoured and with her long black hair pulled back tightly into a pony-tail, flung the door open. "You", she snapped. "Get up. You're coming with me."

The elf tried to look sleepy and weak, and the Dyal took the bait, grabbing the girl's arm and pulling her to her feet. "You've not been just sleeping in here, have you?", the winged woman said, giving the Skywolves' captive a quick looking over and apparently noticing the change of boots. "Not that it matters one bit."

The Dyal - Strides-Tall had to assume she was the Tasra the warrior-chief had mentioned just moments before - dragged the elf into the corridor, locked the store-room door, and started marching the captive down the passage, in the opposite direction to the way Strides-Tall had gone whilst exploring. The elf, ushered ahead by the uncaring winged woman, tried to look unwilling without getting the Dyal angry, whilst taking careful note of everything they went past.

This looks more promising, the adventuress thought as the passage widened, expanding to form a broad central hall, with what appeared to be external hatches to either side. If I can get this far without being noticed, I might just be able to sneak off the ship when it docks. I may get just the one chance, so I better make it count...

At the other end of the central chamber, the passage narrowed again, and was occasionally partitioned off by incongruous irises of grey metal. If they move me to a room on the other side of those, I could be stuck, Strides-Tall thought, but she was careful not to betray those concerns to Tasra.

The elf and her guard passed through three such portals, then came to a flight of stairs, leading up into a large open area. Strides-Tall could not help be pause in awe as she climbed up into the chamber above, and saw a long room with an arched ceiling made of glass, a multitude of hexagonal panels held in place by a metal framework. Beyond the glass, there was darkness, streaked with horizontal bands of rainbow-coloured mist.

On this side of the glass, the main feature was a long table, with chairs arranged down both of the longer sides. The table's surface was polished marble, edged with gold, except for a central section that appeared to be carpeted...

"You dance here, tonight", announced Tasra sternly. "Get something to eat from the kitchen, then get ready. You better make it good, or we'll be dancing on your bones..."

Hollow threats, the elf told herself. She knew the Dyals would not risk losing money by trying to sell damaged goods.

Thirty winged warriors, the majority men but the women sitting with them as equals, gathered to eat that evening - eat, and enjoy Strides-Tall's performance.

I could dance poorly, and get sent back to "my room", thought the elf-girl as she watched the Dyals from behind the heavy velvet curtain separating the feast-hall from the kitchens, or do my best, even though that might result in them keeping me...

Strides-Tall shook off her concerns. "No", she said under her breath, "I owe it to myself to do the best I can. It's part of who I am, and no-one can take that from me..."

The Dyals ate and drank heartily, and it did not take them long to get raucous. There were shouts of "Where's the girl?" and "Bring on the dancer!", and moments later wild, shrill Dyal music started to fill the air.

Right on cue, Strides-Tall burst from hiding, throwing aside the curtains. head held high, she strode up to the edge of the table, placed her hands upon the edge, and flipped up onto the carpetted walkway. This drew a roar of approval, but the elf was far from finished.

With barely a pause, she whirled round, and with the lights glinting off the smoky jewels on her long leather boots, she executed a string of backward flips - nine in all - until she reached the other edge of the table. Pulling her long sun-yellow hair free from the backs of her boots, where it had been tucked, she let it whirl about her as she performed a breath-taking sequence of spins and high kicks.

The roars from the warriors would have been deafening, but the elf-girl's ears were already filled by the roaring of blood rushing through her veins, and the pounding of the heart that drove it. Time and again, hands reached out to grab her, but the Dyals would have had more success grasping at smoke, for Strides-Tall seemed to slip from their grip like water.

Now this is something I could get to enjoy, she thought, toying with her audience, but I'd rather be free, and get paid for doing it. The first chance I get, I'm gone.

 

This page hosted by - Get your own Free Home Page