17th of Kio 3A224
"You got some tough balls making a sick woman hike the mountains."
"You got it, we're almost there. And it's not like I made you walk all the way… Do you know these trees?"
"Nitefir?"
"Yeah they grow like crazy, and burn faster. Half of the village is still built with these woods. See this one," he pointed at a fifty-foot tree, "this one is about six years old."
"Yay, plants. I'm even more tired now."
"Shhh, look there." Fink paved the leaves apart to make way for their entrance.
There they stood atop the high hills that sat beside the shores of The Seal. Glassed by the early afternoon sky of blood and yellow. He made seat for Mela by the grass below the red leaves of the forest. A few miles down the clearing lies a sea of crystal and sapphire, reflecting pieces of light smaller than the hands could measure. The effervescent ambience echoed through the shades of nitefir trees and sea breeze.
"Are you like- saying goodbye or… ?" she looked into his eyes and cupped his cheek.
"What!? No!"
She feverishly dropped her weight onto his arms and played dead.
"Eughk!" she exclaimed as she pretended to puke blood.
"You're not dying, come on," he rested his arm on her shoulder, "You're gonna get better, they said."
"I know. I'm sorry."
They're beside each other as she rests her head in his, sat by each's warmth against the blowing cold wind.
"This was her favourite place, you know," looking past the shore, "we used to come here day by day. I remember she once asked for a house on a treetop. There was no way she could climb it of course, not with her health like what it was."
"Your sister?" Mela asked. He nodded.
"I wanted to bury her here. I couldn't… but still, I made her a monument." He pointed at a stone sculpture of an anchor.
Mela was whelmed with a deep sense of belonging. She held fast to the trance of the moment. An anchor was indeed what she needed. If only they'd never left this… this little while. She sighed shallowly at the thought of leaving. Though perhaps at least Fink would carve her her own monument beside his sister's soon enough. She prayed he wouldn't have to, but she also prayed strength for him when the time comes.
Sooner the trees swayed and mountains slumbered, they gently, slowly, and calm as the seas could wish, fell into sleep, less below the heatwaves and more towards the dancing stars. She lied in his chest and he cradled her, with his lips on her forehead.
Soon the cold would wake them before the dark settles. They'd have enough time to send themselves back before all lights go out.
~~~
They walked back into the roads of the town, hand in hand, smiles on their faces. In the distance, a silhouette of a man well over six-feet tall, feeding a horse, was all too visible.
That person seemed to await them.
"Fink. Good you're here I have a job for you." She pats her horse and looks up. It was a woman of gold hair and axes on her back.
"Yeah hi, Sparrow. Yeah I– a– uhh. I think I'll get this one home first."
They exchange nods as Sparrow gets back to her horse, and Fink to his… well it wasn't his horse but I'm pretty sure he used to ride her too.
Shortly, they arrive by a shambly built shack of wood and thatch.
Fink knocked on the loosely attached door as he called out, "Morlo?".
"You there, Morlo?" he added.
"Ahy –uhm –maym… Hehe, I'm here." thuds and clatters rang the house as he rushed to open the door.
"Oh!" he rejoiced, "Fink, my child!"
"Yeah, definitely not me though, right, father?" Mela carefully walked herself in.
"You know I meant you. It was like 'Fink! And my child!', you," he hugged his daughter softly, "You know I love you more than this bastard. What took you warmlings so long anyway? I thought I'd die of old age before you'd all come back."
He indeed looked like he's about to die of old age anytime soon, with already gray hair and beard, thin stature, and wrinkled skin. Their house was almost empty, save for a dining table and a couple of heybeds. Mostly sold off to survive their declining state of livelihood. Of course there's also what they needed to pay to get Mela healed.
"Hey, Morlo, I–uhh, I need to leave for a uhh–"
"Sparrow, again? I swear, one day I'll catch you mingling with that woman then I'll strangle you."
"Shut up, father," she leaned in to embrace Fink, "hey how come you're my husband of two years but you don't sleep in the same roof as I?"
"What do you mean, we just slept together."
"Right to my face," Morlo walked away, "I do alot for this family you know."
"No you don't," the couple laughed with their foreheads on each other's.
"I'll take care," he smiled reassuring her, "save your voice."
Fink subtly stepped back to leave. He marched on.
"You know I'd kiss you if my breath didn't stink, right!?" she yelled from behind.
~~~
Soon he arrived at the town's north-most passageways. It seemed like a group of men had also recently arrived an hour or so before, recuperating in tents and medic areas.
"Sparrow to Finnegard. Fink, you there? Come back," a voice spoke from a cylindrical sending stone on Fink's person.
"I'm here, Sparrow. What do you need?"
"You at the north roads? You've seen the men?" burdened voice as she spoke, "They were out hunting, fourteen went out. Thirteen came back. One of them went missing. They searched out his tracks and we're ambushed… by marauders… in multiple packs."
"Marauders. Those fucking cunts. I got it," barely passing the words through his gritting teeth.
"Look, Fink. I'd usually send you in alone. But the men said there were about fifty of them. Wolfriders too."
"I said I got it, god damnit."
"No, you're going with Harland," she commanded.
"Okthi ag ul'abel? Atkiazyon zholti."
"Austas bjag kulaman. Zo'aki noaht tsog."
"Fine. Have him meet me at the roads. Finnegard out."
Night's been brought, rain clouds have also gathered around the woods. Murgorfen is mostly lightless this time of the day, perhaps the center most of the town is lit with a bonfire. Only because that's the only place where fire is safe to use. Hence the houses that were erected in its circumference. Whoever needed light at night can only get it there but perhaps whoever really needed light at night can only pray.
Harland came soon rushing with footsteps thumping on the mud, splish-sploshing everywhere.
"You're loud as a horse, you know that?" Fink sneered.
"It's rainy. What do you want me to do? Walk?" Harland replied, dusting off the wet from his bow and pike.
Fink's eyebrows furrowed as he looked at Harland up and down, arm's crossed. Soon as he gave Harland enough time to catch his breath, they began moving.
They followed the route the other countings took while hunting, on foot, as the rain began pouring more, about a couple miles west-northwest. On the trees they could see the scratches and marks of different weapons, some arrows stuck and scattered, blood still on some leaves.
Trees covered the gravy and mountainous topography here on the foot of the landrange. The rain played an advantage to mask their noise and smell. Still two hooded rangers rovered the soiling crevices of the muck shit forest.
Harland peeked from behind a tree, carefully keeping an eye on the wolfrider in the distance.
He tapped Fink on the shoulders and pointed at it. They nod and simultaneously take a step. They froze, confused.
"What are you doing!? Go up!" Fink exclaimed in a whisper.
"You! Go UP!"
"YOU HAVE A BOW! GO UP!"
"YOU HAVE A BOW TOO! I am Jordsor, I'm horde-breaker, you go up," irritated as he spoke, Harland.
"I have the reins, you're the second-man alright? Go up."
Frustrated as he was, Harland climbed himself into the trees as he got into position.
~~~
"Psswt… hwroot!"
"Did you hear that, girl? Someone's trying to sneak up on us," the wolfrider scratched his mutt's neck as he led it towards the noise. It slowly walked up, preying upon whatever moved or made a sound, gnarling and drooling.
'FSHIIW!' an arrow pierced right through the wolf's skull like butter.
He fell sideways in scrambles and panic as he tried to reach for his blades,the sudden when his world froze, like something caught his head.
Was that his life or a sword flashing through his eyes… he didn't live to know.
"Move up," Fink ordered.
~~~
"FUCK! FUCK! FINK HELP ME! FINK GOD DAMMIT!" Harland screamed, wrapping his bleeding leg in cloth, hanging inside a net trap on a tree branch, dodging arrows however he could.
The other is busy fending off several men in his person, arrows and axes flying for his head. Tens of men with swords and tens more dead set with bows. Sinister eyes, soaring and splintering through the flurry of red and rain. Slaughtering in his wake of decimation and death, corpses and blood mires, a display of combat honed for murder, hooded and masked.
But there was this one unfading light by the distance, something faint, solemn and unbending anguish that it emanates. Something so familiar yet unknown.
Shielding himself from volleys with the unalived people. Dropping only more and more and-
"MORE! THERE'S MORE COMING! HELP ME OUT, YOU CUNT!"
About fifteen or eighteen more marauders are waiting for Harland to fall from his net. He's sweating to his bones, much like his eyes, trying to find himself a knife. Almost full tear forms up his face watching Fink in combat move further and further away.
"This is uhh-," he catches an arrow mid-flight, "it's Jordsor. Sparrow come back."
No response.
"Sparrow, I need some help."
"..."
"Got that… we're coming. Sparrow out."
~~~
"Sparrow!? Sparrow, comeback! This Finnegard! Send some yourselves over! Jordsor is overrun! I'm -"
"SPARROW, YOU THERE!?"
"SPARROW, YOU CUNT."
"THEY STOLE A RUNE."
"Some kind of nechromatic rune."
"Fink, that you?," Sparrow replied.
"They stole a rune from the tower! I'm chasing after it."
"We're moving out! FINK DON'T LET THEM AWAY!"
"I'm not as fast as a wol-"
"Sparrow out."
~~~
A few hours now that he's been lost. He took a short moment to admire the village's henchmen passing by, in his trance and short sightedness he lost track of his sister and mom. Little young Hirc wandered the market, making his way from waist to waist. He had hoped to just suddenly bump into them or hear them shout his name, at least that way he would know where to look.
"Hey there, sweetie–", a woman's hand grabbed his arm, – "Where's mommy?".
"Tola!," the child ran to hug Mela. "Have you come to buy medicine?," he added in his small voice.
She rustled his hair and smiled, holding back her own coughs, she chuckled, "Why, yes, you wanna come with?"
"Can you buy me a spear?," softly, he asked as he held her hand to walk. Strolling through the markets of small stalls, although all that's displayed are potatoes and few other local crops, they walked hand-in-hand. "What do you need a spear for?".
"Mother says I'm a jordsor, I'm supposed to learn to break whores."
"Hordes, honey. You're supposed to break hordes. They will teach you soon enough. Come on–'', she pulled him aside– "Let me buy you a stickie."
"Oooh, hot potatoes! I like those," he was over the moon, holding her even more closely.
For a while Hirc tried to convince Mela by subtly telling her how great he is with chopping wood, or housework, he continued that these past moons he had been studying the other countings train with his father. Out of all people, Mela understood the urge of little boys to fight, having also met Fink when they were somewhat young. But she didn't expect it would be this hard to deny a boy a weapon.
An older woman in her late thirties, blonde hair and heavy bloused dress walked intently, directly, heading towards the jordsor child. Her hand reaching out with force and will of a mother's… joy? She grabbed his hair and pulled it close to her own thighs, towering woman of upon glancing is a close descendant of goliaths, alike many the sisters and mothers are in Murgorfen.
The crowd of the market stared in thought of malice and concern.
"Child! You! Where have you fucking gone!?" In contrast to their worry, Hen'l embraced her son. Their eyes turn away in relief and scandalous contempt.
Behind her followed a smaller girl carrying a pretty basket of goods, ribbons and all.
"Oh thank you, Mel. Thank you," teary, she spoke in half a whisper.
"Well, it's a small town, Hen'l, darling."
"Heika, come greet Tola."
Heika waved from behind her mother, like so, Mela waved back.
"Did you make that basket yourself?," Mela asked. To which the other nodded in response.
"How are you Hen?"
"Can you imagine, a husband who fails to reassure his arrival everyday, then this kid goes-'' she slapped the side of Hirc's head sending him down to the ground - "... I don't know what I'd do."
"Oh his father. He was just asking me for a spear."
Hen'l glanced at her son in wonder, "What for?"
"To be a jordsor, mother."
"You are Jordsor, my child. That's literally our family name. Now come on, I'll teach you axes instead."
~~~
Crickets do what crickets do by night, still the tavern made it hard for them to hear. A bard singing his tales, drunkards and their growling laughters, jests and yells like boom blankets. Might this be the only business which actually thrived around here, yet its life somewhat brought these bastards a sense of vibrance.
He's sat beside the counter, clicking his mug by the table, face down and deary from the alcohol. Down as he might seem, down as he was, running his fingertips along the armlet his daughter made for him when she was little.
"You're stronger than I could've ever hoped," he cried, "She's just like you, Bex …"
"Save your mug Morlo, you got nothing to pay for another one."
"Put it on my tab."
The barman walked away, coming back to slam his list on the table. "Your tab… is bigger than everyone else's combined. Man, you're drinking away what you could keep for your daughter."
"Put it on my tab," he said.
"Morlo… I can't."
Morlo grabbed his collar, "ON MY TAB, JIKH!," he yelled at the other's face.
They could only but stare at each other's eyes.
"Help me out here, brother." he slumped back on his seat. He felt a world on his back and a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey uh- Morlo. We've been having a tough time with fewer men on the wells. If you've picked up something from that son-in-law of yours, you could maybe catch a few ones on guard duty."
Morlo looked at him, the latter clad in leather armor with a pike and a shield hang on his back.
'I could do that,' he began to see himself wielding weaponry again, on duty, and his muscles sore. 'I could definitely do that.'
"What does it pay?"
"Honestly… does it matter? It's way better than nothing."
"Yeah hahaha, yeah, you're right."
~~~
"Mama?," her teensy voice unmuting the room, she tugged at her mother's dress holding her bunny-baby. Hen'l picked her up to her arms, she gently brushed Heika's lesser blonde hair. "Yes, my darling?," she replied.
"Is Tola going to be otay?"
"Yeah, mom, she's more frail everytime I see her," the brother chimed in from the bed, already tucked in. His eyes refused to look away until he heard the answer. Heika, too, looked up.
Hen'l looked down and she looked down, softly setting them beside each other on the bed. She cupped their cheeks and smiled, "We don't know…"
"We pray but we do not know," she added, "Now get to bed before your father arrives. You know how he gets."
"Where is father?"
"Your daddy is off to a- uhh…to hell if I know. I don't know, my sweet little moonlights. I know he'll be back if that's any comfort." She shrugged.
Hen'l leaned beside her children, humming the tune of sirens east, she embraced them, she kissed them, and she smiled at them, she smiled with smoke in her eyes and red moons on her cheeks.
She smiled.
Like the skies anticipating cold, staying the coal.
Teal skies 'till the skies meet white winter's soul.
Still she begged, still she tries.
Still as she steals my gaze, but she smiles a garden of solace, tulips, and butterflies.
Festered this heart, for all love is a disease.
Long do I believe 'till she can smile once more, long will I do 'till she smiles like this.