Niara's Tales: Bow of the Righteous

Notes: Several chapter are on their way, all written and jsut being mildl edited, expect them over the next few days. This next series of chapters may be very unpleasant for some, and I'll tag each one individually, though the general goings on are dark throughout. No smut in this one itself, tagging simply for Violence and Killing.

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Press Onwards

The wind on her face held no joy, nor the sun any warmth as Niara rode after the band of raiders. Beneath her, Aster could sense her rider’s mood, and tried none of her usual playful tricks, instead running sure and swift on the trail.

Niara had expected to feel more rage and vengeful ire at her foes as she pursued them, but it had never surfaced. The overwhelming grief and anguish had drained away as she rode, but it had left behind nothing in its place, save a cold, empty determination. She would shed no more tears now, not for Danas, or her father; could not, even if she wanted to. In her heart and mind, that life was over now, and nothing would bring it back. If vengeance was to be the act that defined her new path, then so be it; it was justified enough.

The sun had almost reached its zenith and Niara pulled back on the reins. Though she couldn’t truly feel it herself, she knew the days’ sun would take its toll on Aster if she kept her running through the heat of it. She looked around the featureless plains now that her pace had slowed. The orcs would travel more by night, and rest often through the day, if they travelled at all. As long as she kept Aster fresh she could stay close behind them easily. There were enough gentle hills on the plain that she couldn’t find the haze of their band, but the trail was easy to follow. As night fell, Niara slowed to a walk, dismounting to lead her horse in the faint starlight. She kept on for a few more hours before stopping in the cover of a small hill, out of the wind. After watering Aster and taking a short drink herself, she stripped the horse down and released her to graze and rest before lying down in the grass herself and gazing up at the stars.

She should probably eat something, should probably feel hungry, but she didn’t. She ought to sleep then, and rest properly, but she didn’t feel tired either. Out of the wind, the night was warm, and she lay watching the stars until they began to fade in a gradually lightening sky. It wasn’t properly light yet by the time she was riding again, and a plume of smoke in the distance caught her eye. They’d probably razed an abandoned farmstead in the night. Good. It would slow them down.

Sure enough, she reached the burned wreckage herself a few hours later. Aster shied at the smell of smoke, and Niara jumped down to inspect quickly herself. Luckily, they hadn’t taken the effort to foul the well, and she refilled her water supply before searching the husks of the other buildings. The storehouse had been completely ransacked before they torched it, but in the stone foundations of the farmhouse she found a charred cellar door that gave way under a few kicks. The steps beneath led down to a mostly empty larder. On one shelf, though, a few wrapped bundles remained, and Niara them tentatively. The first contained a rich-smelling hard cheese, which she wrapped back up and tucked under one arm. The remaining three were all the same, stacked in a neat pile. Opening the top one, she found tightly packed strips of dried meat and took a bite of one. After the first mouthful, she ate ravenously, catching herself only after she had devoured half the bundle. Carefully, she retied what was left, and climbed back up with the packages. Taking another drink from the well as she passed, Niara tucked the bundles into Aster’s saddle bags before putting the smoking ruins behind her. As she rode on, a part of her wondered at how little concern she felt for the former owners of the farm, but the thought slipped from her mind as swiftly as the ruin itself from her sight. It didn’t matter now, only her target did.

They were probably retreating to Isengard, since they were headed north-west, and from there, where, she wondered. Would they report a failure? Probably. The thought almost make her laugh. They hadn’t really failed, in the end, after all. They’d killed everyone that mattered, and a farm with no one to run it wasn’t much of a farm any more. She wondered if it would be a first; orcs reporting failure where they had actually succeeded.

Her thoughts quieted as she crested a hill. There, in the distance, a dark cluster on the landscape, and no more than an hour’s ride or two between. She heeled Aster onwards. They weren’t moving now, as she’d suspected; it was late morning, with the sun well up and no clouds in the sky. With luck, they would rest through until evening, hiding from the sun beneath their covers. They wouldn’t all be asleep though, and it was only in the stories that one attacked a score and lived.

As she drew closer to the resting party, Niara checked her step and moved more carefully. In sight now, she could see their individual forms, sprawled beneath a roughly rigged shade cloth of some sort. Of all oft hem, a single orc was sitting upright, chewing on a hunk of rough bread and looking at a roll of hide, a map she supposed. His back was to her, and he looked up now and again, towards the north-west, and Isengard. Niara’s eyes narrowed as she eased aster around one small hillock and crested the next. He was within bowshot now, if she judged the range aright. Slipping her bow off her back, she strung it deftly over the saddle, then pulled an arrow from her quiver.
“One.” She whispered under her breath, as she let fly. The orc leader let out a horrible scream as the arrow punched through the base of his skull, and pitched forward, dark blood quickly soiling the map he held. Many of the others started up as he died, and shouts arose from the pavilion, orcs grabbing for weapons and spilling out into the sunlight. There was a frozen moment as many of their eyes fixed on her, still sitting her horse atop the hill, staring back at them. Then the shouts became rage and they poured out from under the cover towards her. Niara turned her horse with her free hand and galloped back down the hill. In the heat of the sun, it didn’t take long for the angry cries to fade behind her as the pursuers gave up and retreated to their shade.

Once she was sure they no longer followed, Niara stopped to give Aster a short drink, then carefully began to move forward again. By the time she drew close to their camp again, it was past midday. She returned to her first vantage point, dismounting at the base of the low hill and climbing to the crest, low to the ground. As she peeked over the rise, she could see that the camp had quieted again. Two bodies lay out in the sun now, both the orc she had shot, and another. A leadership dispute, probably. There was also a guard, on his feet but looking less than pleased about being stuck with the job. She could probably shoot him before he raised the alarm, but it would mean another midday gallop. Better to let Aster rest; there was plenty of time yet, and she needed her well and fresh.

Instead, she retreated, leading her horse back and away, then began to slowly make her way around the orc’s campsite, detouring as much as she needed to to remain out of sight. It was early evening by the time she judged herself roughly north-east of them, and settled down to rest. Once again, she didn’t feel much like sleep, and sat quietly instead, eyes closed, listening closely to the rush of wind across the grassy plains. It was still early in the night when Niara opened her eyes again, standing. The sound of movement and guttural voices on the air had reached her ears, and she unslung her bow, restringing it. They hadn’t simply moved on then, it seemed. Their new leader must have decided to hunt her down before she could pick off any more of them. The thought almost made her sneer. They weren’t the only ones who could stalk the hills by night, after all.

Voices in the distance off to her left drew her attention, and Niara climbed carefully to the top of the hill she had been sheltered behind. A pair of orcs were moving past her position, about twenty metres away. Their swords were out, but they seemed too busy talking to scout properly. She listened for a moment, making out what they were saying.
“Doesn’t mean this isn’t stupid. The bitch isn’t going to be out here. She’d have to have gone right past us. They’ll find her back south somewhere.” The other one laughed in his throat.
“You griping about easy work then? Long as someone finds her, right? Can’t say we didn’t search, just, she ain’t here. Not like we’re goin’ to be the ones telling Sharkû we messed up at that damn farm.”
“Maybe. Bad as these cursed, sun-blasted plains are, I’m in no rush to get back though.” Kneeling up, Niara drew her bow. Not any more, at least. As before, her arrow punched through the base of her target’s skull, sending him toppling forward with a yell. His companion spun about, startled, then rushed toward her. He only made it halfway before her second shot pierced his eyes and set his corpse rolling back down the slope. Still wary, Niara moved down to retrieve her arrows. The first broke off as she tried to dislodge it from the orc’s skull, but the second she managed to salvage successfully, cleaning it on the rough fabric of his clothing before returning it to her quiver.

As she returned to Aster, Niara found herself walking onwards, leading the horse behind her. The night was young, and two was not yet enough. She began working her way south, moving slowly and listening for the sound of others as she went. It wasn’t long before she saw the outlines of a figure against the dim moonlight, atop a small rise, scanning about. He pointed at her, shouting, before her arrow silenced him, and two more shapes crested the rise, running at her. The first she dropped before his shadow could pass beyond the backdrop of the stars, though the second proved a harder shot. Her first arrow missed altogether, in the shade of the hill, and her next only pierced his shoulder. He was almost on top of her as she made a third attempt, this time striking cleanly through his eye. His momentum pushed him forward, tumbling across the ground to stop barely a foot from her. Niara had another arrow in her bow already and spun about, searching for a fresh target. Her pulse was racing and she could feel an angry snarl on her lips. After a moment she put the arrow away and kicked the corpse near her savagely instead. Behind her, Aster whinnied quietly, and Niara closed her eyes, forcing herself to be calm. The poor girl was tired, and would need proper rest if she was to run again tomorrow. She nodded, patting and rubbing the horse’s neck for a moment, before leading her away northwards again. They walked for another ten minutes before Niara stopped to unsaddle and tend Aster properly at last, letting her sleep. Niara herself rested close by, watching the night pass, bow still in hand.

When light came, Niara stood, then climbed to the top of the nearest rise, looking about. Far to the west, a black smudge on the landscape marked her quarry. They had given up the hunt during the night and moved on, it seemed, and moved fast, judging by how far off they were; several hours ride at least. She ate lightly before setting out, making first for the site where they had camped the day before, to confirm the trail. Another corpse had joined the two already attracting the attention of carrion birds. Another change of leadership then. She allowed herself a grim smile as she rode on.

It was early afternoon by the time she caught up to them again and stopped to give Aster a rest. They had moved again since morning, she was sure, which meant they were rushing now. Spying them out cautiously, she counted sixteen orcs still, four of whom had been left as unhappy sentries. She cursed under her breath. Too dangerous to take another shot now, and at this rate it would only be a few more days before they reached Isengard.

Retreating to Aster, she ate some of the cheese and pondered her strategy. The extra movement would tire them our, at least; they might get careless. She would just have to wait and follow for now, and see what fortune offered. Aster would benefit from a rest for the afternoon as well.

Night had fallen by the time they roused themselves, and Niara watched them pack up with a small amount of fascination. Their shade cloth had always been just the right size for them to fit under, no more, and now she knew why. Each one carried his own section of rough cloth, with small holes sewn into each corner. They all also seemed to have a small handful of short leather ties, so no matter their numbers, shade of the right size could always be quickly tied together. It was quite clever, really, in an orc-efficiency sort of way. Once they had out, Niara began to follow at a walk, leading Aster. It was slow, certainly, but it would mean that much less distance to run during the day. Glancing over her shoulder, she thought for a moment, then stopped. There was little enough food left that it would fit in one saddlebag, and the remaining water skins could go over her own shoulder with no discomfort. She nodded to herself, then began stripping off the rest of Aster’s tack. She would tire less slowly, without the heavy gear, and riding bareback was no trouble.

They walked for the majority of the night until, a few hours before light, Niara stopped to let Aster sleep. She waited in silence, herself, until dawn broke, then mounted up, coaxing Aster to run. By the time she closed to the band again, they had already made a daytime run and were attempting to get what rest they could before night fall. Even the sentries were drowsing where they stood, or sat. She walked Aster to within bowshot of their camp, then picked her target. The guard to the left, the only one of the four standing, seemed most awake. As she lined up the shot, her hand shook slightly, and she stared at it for a few moments until she could will it back to stillness. Her arrow pierced through his temple, killing him in silence. The body toppled forward into the sun with a dull thump, but no one else stirred. Niara let out a breath and fitted another arrow to her bow. The one in front next, before he could rouse and see her. Sitting slumped on the ground, head lowered slightly, his posture barely changed as an arrow penetrated one eye. Next the one on the right, another temple shot, one more clean kill. Keep going, they weren’t awake yet. Last guard, with his back to her. As she loosed, the shake returned, and her arrow ducked low, hitting a sleeping orc in his upturned chin, and punching through into his brain. His body jerked and flailed as he died, waking those around him, and the camp quickly began to rouse. Niara cursed, reaching for another arrow, and managed two more killing shots before enough of them were awake to give chase. With a shout, she wheeled Aster around and galloped westward until her pursuers gave up. The horse was panting beneath her, and Niara jumped down to give her the last of the water.

Squinting, she looked at the sky, then the landscape around. She could make it to the Isen by nightfall, probably. For Aster’s sake, she’d need to. Six that time, that left ten. She might catch them once more before they reached Isengard, or maybe not. How quickly could she shoot ten orcs? Not fast enough, probably. She pulled a strip of meat from her bag and chewed on it. Didn’t’ matter, her course was clear enough. River first, for more water, then north to Isengard, in case she could catch them one more time.

The river itself flowed freely, fresh and cool, and she and Aster both drank fiercely when they reached the water’s edge in the late evening. The rush of the water reminded Niara of how long it had been since she had washed properly, so, as Aster drank and rested, she stripped off and waded into the icy waters, removing the sweat and grime of the past days. Afterwards, she dried off as best she could, then redressed. She swayed on her feet for a moment, and her vision danced, but she shook her head and blinked it away before sitting down to a slightly more substantial meal than her previous bites and snacks. When she was done, she stood and swung up onto Aster.
“Come on girl, I know you’re tired, but we’ve got to catch them. One more run, ok?” She turned the horse north, setting off along the river bank as fast as she dared with night falling.

The seed of fear that had been nagging at her returned as the tower of Orthanc came into view, distant and small against the mountains beyond, but with a sense of presence she could not ignore once it had caught her eye. There was a light glowing at the top of the tower, a tiny beacon in the night. What was she doing? Riding headlong towards the lands of an enchanter of some fearsome power… A wizard, supposedly on their side, true enough, but whom the horse-breeders of Rohan, at least, knew to be a traitor to the free, and in league with the Enemy. He might know everything about her the moment she got close, for all she knew, maybe even strike her down as simply. She grit her teeth. No. It wouldn’t be that simple, couldn’t be. It wasn’t like she meant to go in or anything like that.

Night faded as the tower drew closer. Suddenly she stopped, pulling up with a venomous curse. Ahead, in the distance, she could just make out a small cluster of orcs crossing the river towards the tower. She was sure it was the same ten, certain of it. They must have run non stop since she left them to be here already. Damnit. Still, they’d come out again soon enough, surely. It didn’t seem like Saruman would keep orcs on the grounds of his home for long, looking as naturally beautiful and verdant as it did. He’d send them away somewhere else, and she would follow.

It was well past midday before Niara detected any sort of movement from her distant vantage across the river. She led Aster back between the rocky, craggy hills that surrounded Isengard, scrambling to the top of one herself, to watch.

There were only nine now, as far as she could count, and all running in a rough cluster, as though their lives depended on it. As they passed, she noticed fresh equipment, including a simple wood bow and a small quiver for each of them. That might be a problem. They were heading south, for the moment, which could only mean they made for the Gap of Rohan, and lands unknown beyond. As Niara began to make her own way south behind them, she pondered how easy it seemed now, to tread where she never had before. A lifetime ago, when she’d had a home, going somewhere new had always been a source of trepidation. Now though…
“Anywhere but here,” She muttered under he breath, and pressed on.

Another day had almost passed by the time Niara reached the ford across the Isen and picked up their trail, heading north-west now. Her brow furrowed as she rode. She’d looked at her father’s maps in the past, but there wasn’t a great deal to be found out this way, as far as she knew. There was Dunland, but that was much more directly north, and it looked as though they were giving it a wide berth altogether. Where then? The only other settlement she knew of from the maps was the city of Bree, unless they meant to go all the way to the elven lands, like Ered Luin, to the west, or Rivendell, somewhere far north, but that wasn’t possible. Nine orcs couldn’t assault a city, there had to be more to it than that.

The sky was dark now, and beneath her, Aster complained. Niara sighed and jumped down.
“I’m sorry, girl, we’ll stop for the night. But you’d better rest well; we’ve got some catching up to do tomorrow.” She took a few minutes to rub Aster down with her hands, ate a light meal and lay down on the grass to watch the wispy clouds scudding across the star filled sky. She still wasn’t sleeping. Couldn’t sleep, didn’t feel tired. She knew something was wrong with her, but the greater part of her mind steadfastly refused to worry about it until after she had completed her vengeance. So she watched the stars, rested, and tried not to think.

She made up more ground the next day, catching up to them just as night was falling over the banks of the Greyflood. She caught sight of the group briefly as they moved out at full run, but forced herself to let them go for one more night as Aster demanded rest. They seemed to be travelling openly on the road now, so she could be sure of catching them in the sun tomorrow anyway.

The morning dawned overcast, threatening rain and Niara cursed at the clouds as she chewed on the last of her meat. She had watched them roll across during the night, hoping they would pas by light, but the thick blanket of grey went on and on. They’d run all day now, surely, and she wouldn’t catch up to them again until evening. She muttered another curse under her breath as she swung up onto Aster and urged her into a gallop. The rain began about midday, cold and thick, and showed no sign of easing as she rode into the evening with no sign of catching her quarry. Dark was falling as she came upon the ruins of an old fort blocking the road. If she remembered well, this would be the South-guard Ruins, and sure enough she could see men on the walls and around the gateway. Their trail definitely led in, though; there was no way they could be any sort of official law enforcement, not if they allowed orcs passage or audience. Something was very suspicious about the situation.

Backing down the road, she turned off into the copse of trees on one side and jumped down from Aster. Glancing out at the rain, she shook her head. She had several dry bowstrings on her, but they wouldn’t stay dry for long like this. Even so, she had to find out what was going on in there. Sneaking through the trees, she approached the fort, using what cover the dark provided until she reached the wall itself. The band of trees ran right up to the ruins, and she could see branches coming from inside the fort wall as well, left to grow unchecked where the ruin floor was gone. That would do well enough. Climbing the tree nearest the stonework was a simple task, though she moved slowly, trying to remain silent. As she topped the wall of the fort she glanced sideways through the layer of branches at the guard nearest her. He leaned on a raised column, staring out at the south road, bored or half asleep, or both. She moved on, crossing the outer wall and climbing carefully into the branches of one of the interior trees. The inside of the ruins seemed to be set out on three layers, though she couldn’t see much from her vantage point. The trees she was hiding in were growing on the second level, and she could see a square courtyard below, separated from the rest of the grounds by some stairs, and a wooden palisade to the north. In the courtyard, there was a discussion going on, and the mix of rough but human tones and guttural orc voices drifted up to her. She shifted slowly, trying to get a better view of the proceedings.

There was one man with a heavy-looking war-hammer on his back standing in the middle of the area with his arms folded. He had a number of smaller weapons on his person as well, and a bevy of equally rough looking companions behind him. Opposite him, her prey, the remaining nine orcs. The bandit leader was speaking.

“So what do you expect me and mine to do about it then? Sharky sends you here, so you say, but he ain’t sent any word to us yet, and we’ve got our orders already. We might be operating out of here for now, but there’s no way we can do our upcoming jobs with a bunch of your kind in tow, that’s for sure.” The orc that seemed to be standing as their leader made an angry, dismissive gesture.

“That is not our problem. Sharkû sends us, here, to aid in his dominion over this land. He sends us to you. We will not fail him again, and so where we are pointed, we go.” The orc sneered, but the bandit only nodded to himself.
“So, what you’re telling me is, he’s put you all under my command and authority, and if you don’t all do exactly as I tell you, it’ll be his wrath on you for it?” The orcs seemed to hesitate, sputtering angrily at the concept for several seconds, but eventually quieted.
“Hmph… For now, lûkruf.” He sneered the word in a way that could only mean insult. Niara blinked as her vision swam for a moment, and shifted slightly, trying to fix her view of the exchange. For some reason she couldn’t see clearly, the detail and colour fading from her sight, and her head felt like it was weaving back and forth. Too late, she felt her balance shift on its own.

A hard crack make her eyes fly open as the wind was driven out of her in a sharp cry and jolts of pain fanned out from her shoulder and head. There was shouting, and rough hands grabbing her, pulling her hands back behind her and binding them. Her vision cleared at ground level, darting about to find all eyes watching her. She struggled as she was dragged up to her knees, but most of the strength seemed to have left her limbs. The bandit captain was laughing as two others dragged her roughly forward. The orcs seemed to be on the brink of frenzy.
“This her then? It this your vengeful spirit, your hardened warrior?” He laughed again. “You lot really must be useless. It’s a bleeding farm girl, with her father’s bow, probably.” The orc snarled, drawing his weapon. Most of his followers were already brandishing theirs.
“That kruf has cost over a score of our company. Her life is forfeit to us, you will hand her over!” Still mirthful, the leader pretended to ignore the orc, looking over at Niara instead. She held his gaze, trying not to grind her teeth, and kept silent.
“So you’re as stupid as you are incompetent, are you, orc? No. Our mutual boss values information even more than strength of arms. This one will likely have information useful to him, especially since you wretches failed so miserably at your appointed task. You boys are heading north, to meet up with our forces on the greenway. The girl stays here, with us, for interrogation.” His eyes wandered back to her with his last words, travelling over her body in a way that forced her to fight down a wave of revulsion. The men behind him jeered with each other, though the one woman in their group didn’t take her eyes off the orcs. Niara averted her eyes. The orcs would simply kill her; whatever they planned, it might still mean a chance of escape, at least. The orcs were shouting, but held their place, and the bandit leader paid them no heed, stepping over to her instead. He lifted her face up with one hand, forcing her to look at him again.
“Such angry eyes. No matter, we’ll soon calm you down.” The relaxed set of his body changed as he moved like lightning. His whole body turned once, too fast for her to follow, and she didn’t see the blow coming until his fist crashed brutally against her temple. She felt herself hit the ground as her vision exploded in painful colours and her nose and eyes began to run. There were more voices and shouts, but her grip on awareness slipped away.

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