"There, My Princess," said Sir Arrack, pointing ahead with one gauntleted hand. "Yonder hill is the meeting place."
Princess Rhialla looked at the crest of the high, broad hill half a mile distant. She saw no movement there.
"How far is the Hist village from here?" she asked. She was pleased to note the firmness of her voice, despite the anxiety which clawed at her belly.
"About three hours' ride on horseback, Princess," said Sir Arrack. "Though of course the Hist have no horses."
"Then let us go forward, Sir Arrack, and win my dear sister's release."
"Yes, Princess."
Rhialla urged her little mare to a trot, and her escort followed. Sir Arrack rode by her side on his enormous warhorse, while five mounted men-at-arms, hand-picked, followed in formation.
They had traveled all morning, down from the mountain keep where the last Human king reigned from a crumbling stronghold, ruling a populace of fewer than one thousand souls. Twenty years earlier, this vale had been a part of her father's kingdom. Then had come the reptilian Hist, mankind's implacable foe. Intelligent and cunning, they arose from the steaming jungles far to the south and fell upon the lands of men without fear or mercy. They slaughtered tens of thousands of men -- warriors and farmers, blind old men, and boys too young to lift a sword. But women were captured and enslaved, put to whatever uses the Hist required.
As young girls, Rhialla and her older sister, the Princess Brianna, had heard endless rumors of what life must be like for the "Hist-thrall" -- slaves of the Hist. Then one day, a woman was found wandering naked and dazed near the human settlement; she had been captured by the Hist and spent six weeks in their clutches before managing to escape. When she had been nursed back to some semblance of health, the woman told her tale to the King; little Rhialla, eager to hear all the details, hid herself behind a tapestry in the throne room and heard all.
Unable to sleep that night, she told Brianna the woman's story. From then on, the two sisters would stay up late many nights in their little room in the Keep, terrifying and tittilating each other as they imagined being captured by the Hist and used in unspeakable ways for many weeks until, invariably, they were rescued by a heroic knight.
Now those stories had come true, for Princess Brianna at least. She had disappeared during an evening ride with Malweather Urksom, a young nobleman who was eager to take her hand in marriage (and the throne that would go with it once her father the King passed away). They had evidently ridden too far down the mountain and encountered a Hist foraging party. Urksom was discovered the next day, his body torn to pieces and partially devoured; Brianna's clothing was strewn across the rocky ground.
Overwhelmed with grief, King Remnin had sent an envoy to the Hist, humbly requesting a parlay to discuss terms for the release of his adored daughter. The Hist, ever inscrutable, had agreed to a meeting. Princess Rhialla, worried in equal measure over the health of both her father and her sister, volunteered to lead the negotiation.
Sir Arrack, Captain of the King's Guard, insisted that he be allowed to accompany the Princess. Rhialla had long suspected the noble knight was deeply, if quietly, in love with her; sure enough, Sir Arrack had secured from King Remnin a promise that if both Brianna and Rhialla were returned safely, Sir Arrack would be given Princess Rhialla's hand in marriage.
That would be an unprecendented reward for a mere knight -- but in truth there were very few men of noble blood left in King Remnin's realm. As it was, only the elderly Lord Flajalist was of sufficiently high birth to be a potential mate for Princess Brianna; given a choice between Sir Arrack and the half-senile Lord Flajalist, Rhialla would have picked the gallant knight without a second thought.
The little party of humans cantered up the hillside in silence; the sun was halfway to noon now, but the air was still brisk with morning chill. The valley they were in had once been called Springsong Vale, and had been the jewel of her father's realm. Rhialla herself had never before seen tbe valley, now called the Vale of the Hist; she had been raised in the mountain fastnesses where humankind now eked out its existence, in the high altitudes where the reptilian Hist loathed to go.
Sir Arrack was old enough to remember this place, however. He was approaching thirty, more than ten years older than she. He had been a young squire of ten when the Hist first came to this verdant valley and took it from the Humans. Rhialla looked at his face, creased now with twenty years of sorrow and hardship, and felt a pang of homesickness. She did not love Sir Arrack, not exactly, but she did admire and respect him; he would be a devoted and loyal husband.
They reached the crest of the hill and halted. The hilltop stretched nearly level for thirty yards ahead of them. No one awaited them there.
"Are we early, Sir Arrack?" asked Rhialla.
"Perhaps, My Princess. By your leave, we shall wait a few minutes."
"Yes, of course."
The seven humans waited in silence for many minutes. Princess Rhialla was growing alarmed. She had imagined the possible outcomes of this meeting -- success, failure, even betrayal and ambush -- but never did she suppose the Hist would simply fail to appear.
"Listen," said Sir Arrack. "Someone approaches."
Rhialla strained her ears, but for several seconds heard nothing. Then she made out the scuff of bare feet on rocks, and the panting of heavy breath. Suddenly a figure appeared over the crest of the hill just ahead of them. A human, it seemed. Female.
She approached with shoulders hunched and back bowed, naked but for a heavily rusted iron collar. She scampered forward several feet at a time, whimpering incessantly, stopping frequently to glance about. Fifteen feet short of Rhialla's steed she halted abruptly and dropped to her haunches, wringing her hands anxiously.
The girl had no doubt been an exquisite specimen at one time, but was now gaunt and underfed, her ribs and hipbones protruding, limbs lank and angular. Her vast grey eyes were shadowed and hollow, high cheekbones too prominent above the sunken cheeks.
She licked her chapped lips and spoke in a voice so small and tremulous that Rhialla could scarce understand: "The human female Glisten is sent forth to announce the impending presence of her glorious Masters." She cast another glance over her shoulder, grimacing fearfully.
Rhialla gazed at the pitiful girl with compassion. Glisten's hair was matted and tangled, its color indeterminate; it appeared to be black, but it may have been brightest flaxen and merely crusted with weeks or months of dirt.
