They had been stripped of all clothing and forced to endure the steadily falling snow and biting winds coming down the mountains through the valley.
As she and Pattan rounded the last pile that used to be a dwelling Ireth gave a shriek and fell in the mud and blood, soiling her new fur robes. The sight was her tortured mother tied to a post in the great common area used for seasonal celebrations and sacrifices. She barely recognized Merenwen. The hair had been burned from her head.
There was dried blood all down the front of her nearly blue, naked body, chilled by the freezing winds. The stumps where her hands used to be, the only color that was left in her body a bright red and dark red from crusted blood. Ireth sobbed, cried out for her mother. “Ireth!” a voice shouted. It was her brother! Findecano was alive! A human soldier punched his little frame in the ribs hard and he hit the ground, doubled over in pain. A grunt came from her the body of her mother.
Sweet Elhonna! She’s still alive! Ireth thought. She began a prayer for her mother’s spirit to be taken to Elhonna’s bosom swiftly, but was interrupted as Pattan dragged her by her new leash toward a table two humans placed in front of the post where her mother was. The two men pulled her up and placed her head on the table as Pattan began speaking. Something about submission and the price of defiance. Ireth felt the searing pain in her ear again.
She tried not to cry out but was unable to stifle the urge. Pattan pulled her up by her hair and held her to face her mother, tears running down both of their faces.
“This is how I punish defiance and mutiny!” Pattan boomed at the captives. The man who had untied Merenwen last night was led out, hands bound and shirtless. He was large but otherwise common. Another human stood behind him and began to lash him with a flail.
The human resisted the first few lashes, but eventually went to his knees and was laying face down in the mud for the last few lashes. He was lead away and a small elven girl was brought to the table. Ireth was on her knees shivering, afraid of what was about to happen. The small naked child was picked up and placed on the table, her hands and feet slipped into ropes cleverly connected and pulled tight by Pattan himself.
Corovan brought the heated shears to the girl and deftly snipped the ear that Merenwen had repaired the night before. The girl yelped and all of the elves flinched at the sound. Silence followed. Corovan looked to Pattan asking an unspoken question. Pattan answered silently with a single nod. “You,” Corovan spoke and pointed at one of the soldiers. A cheer went up among the humans.
They were patting the chosen man on the back even as he began unbuckling his belts and tugging at his trousers.
“NO!” a shrill shout went out. The girl’s mother rushing to the table to rescue her daughter. As she reached the table a human stuck his leg out causing her to fall into the table. He picked her up, her hands bound and no way to really struggle, he slammed her head on the table.
Blood poured from a gash beneath her eye where she struck the table, and was smeared with the tears flowing from her pretty almond, green eyes. “You get front row for this event momma,” the pant less man laughed as he loomed over the small girl. It was horrible. The screams and the crying. A collective sigh went out when the man was finished and climbed off the table. The man, satisfied pulled his trousers up and buckled his belts.
Then to the elves terror pulled out a dagger and slit the girl’s throat.
This continued through the morning. Another pile of bodies was made as all of the elves were branded again, Pattan having every third killed. By the time his servants brought out the food for his lunch the tribe of the village of Feawen Numenesse that had yesterday morning been home to over a hundred elves, now claimed 21 survivors, all women and young children, all branded, broken and ready for auction.
All except for Ireth. She was taken back to Pattan’s tent, made to bathe and informed by Mydre that she was to be ready to travel back to Pattan’s hold to be his chamber-slave. In his rush to gather her up and cart her off, Mydre didn’t see Ireth pick up the old tome they had found and tucked it beneath her robes.
The last Ireth saw of Feawen Numenesse was from the back of a high-walled cart, the bodies of her tribesmen piled around her mother, tied to a post.
She saw the humans poring lamp oil over the bodies. Just as the cart bumped over the last hill toward her new life as a slave they lit the pyre. Goodbye my family, Ireth thought silently, weeping.