They stopped into the narrow, deep pass between Haragmar and Agamaur. The young Créoth warrior was firmly tied up. He lied on the ground and stared at the women with hostile eyes.
Elsa spat on the ground. ”I was wondering when I would meet you next”, she grunted as she wiped sweat off her forehead. ”I’ve been hanging on the heels of this group for two days already. They were probably looking for lone Eglain wanderers for easy prey.”
”I have been to west”, replied Hellrien.
”In that fugitive camp?” Elsa stared at Hellrien sharply.
Hellrien nodded. ”I heard a few names there. Joan Darkhand, Harmon Rushes, Herbert Dickerson and Victor Landen.”
The Eglain woman nodded. ”I have heard of them. The three last-mentioned are known all over the Lone-Lands. Adventurers. Wanted in Bree.”
”And Darkhand?”
”I have nothing concrete about her. Nobody has. The name is just a legend here. It is said that she came from the east many years ago – from beyond the Last Bridge. According to this legend she came with a man, and a group of elves followed on their trail. The elves chased them like lynx. At least the man was killed.”
”And Joan?”
”She got away, and wandered around the Lone-Lands like an evil spirit, filled with hatred and vengefulness. It is said she buried the man, her lover, in Garth Agarwen.”
”In the Créoth territory?”
”According to the legend, yes.”
Hellrien fell silent. The wind blew clouds of dust in the pass. Elsa stared at the Créoth.
”I think this man can tell us something.” There was an ominous tone in the Eglain woman’s voice, and Hellrien felt strangely nauseous. Torture wasn’t an alien concept to her – she had been subjected to torture many times before and in turn tortured others, but every time it had felt like she had lost a piece of her own humanity.
”It may take time”, she said coarsely.
Elsa spat. ”Not from me, Hellrien. I am uncivilized.”
Hellrien looked at the Créoth. There had been a biting tone in the Eglain woman’s voice.
”What are you going to do?”
”Get me a bog snake”, Elsa replied. ”When it’s sharp teeth are half an inch away from his eyeball, I guarantee he will sing like a skylark…”
Hellrien stood up and disappeared up the slope.
Elsa kicked the Créoth on his back. The hillman spat at her. Elsa laughed in a deep voice. She tied the hillman’s hair on the ground with wooden sticks. The Créoth couldn’t move his head.
A few minutes later Hellrien returned. She was holding a wriggling bog snake in her right hand. Elsa took it and squeezed it from behind it’s head. The Créoth’s dark eyes followed the movements of the snake. He didn’t say anything. But Hellrien could see the sweat sparkling on his forehead and cheeks.
”Force his eyes to remain open”, said Elsa.
