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Tasha At Talon's Nook -- Chapter Six |
| Written by JS Brown | |
| Monday, 14 April 2008 | |
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Share it:      Soon, the bowl was empty, the body beginning to twitch slightly at the extremities. He remained chanting as he removed the shroud from her, then got another bowl and began feeding the corpse again. His heart leapt as he saw her eyelids start to flutter, but fell again when he saw that her eyes were still cold and dead, one of the pupils wide and bloodshot, the other one small and tight, neither of them responding to the increasing light of the dawn that filtered in through the open door of the shanty. He emptied the bowl, his chanting increasing in pace as he retrieved a third one and began again. With the third bowl, the corpse almost seemed to inhale it, it was gone so fast, but still nothing was happening. He’d been up all night, chanting over the gruel as it boiled down, and he was tired. It was time for him to change, but until the ceremony was complete, he had to remain in human form. He retrieved a fourth bowl and poured it into the now-greedy mouth of the corpse, and that was when he saw it. There was a light beginning to come from the corpse, as though it had been doused in oil and set ablaze. He increased the pace and volume of his chant, clasping his hands in front of himself and bowing his head. The twitching at the extremities spread rapidly, until the battered corpse was twitching from head to foot, then it rapidly escalated to a spastic thrashing. Even though he’d expected such a reaction when the gruel began to work, he found it somewhat amazing, and he forgot that he was so tired and renewed his chanting with vigor. The body jerked and spasmed, the arms and legs thrumming and snapping about wildly hands clasping at nothing and then snapping back open. He saw the corpse begin to rise off the floor, the light getting brighter and brighter until it began to hurt his eyes, and he had to turn away. The body of Tasha began to spin, slowly at first, then gaining speed as the reaction took it more fully. Just before the light became blinding, he saw the limbs go rigid, the head roll back, and the mouth opened and gave forth a piercing screech. He could feel a pressure building like the air before a storm, and he unconsciously began to back away, his chanting rising ever higher as the phenomenon increased with the volume of the screech. The corpse was spinning quickly about shoulder height, the screeching making his skin crawl, the pressure so dense that he was having trouble drawing breath and maintaining his chant. Just when he thought that he couldn’t take it anymore and would have to run, there was a violent explosion that emanated from the corpse. The unearthly screeching abruptly quit, and a shockwave blew the walls and roof of the shanty to splinters, throwing the man in the brown robe back with it. He saw the cooking pot go flying by, trailing hot gruel as it flew through the air, then he hit some underbrush and went tumbling, losing sight of everything as he rolled to a stop. Slowly, he gathered his wits about him and shakily picked himself up. The shanty was gone, nothing more than a smooth spot of dirt that was streaked outwards in a radial pattern from the blast, surrounded by smoking plants in a ten-meter circle that centered around the naked girl that crouched in the center of it, head down, taking huge gasps of air and exhaling them out just as quickly, tremors coursing through her body. She made a noise that was a mix of startled gasp and groan of pain, puking up the gruel that had been consumed in a high-pressure jet and then falling over onto her side as the tremors took her violently. He rushed back over beside her, picking her up and cradling her in his arms as she gasped for breath, looking at him with an expression of pure horror, green eyes flashing fear and confusion and pain. He held her close, wiping the vomit from her mouth with his sleeve and murmuring softly to her until the tremors passed and her breathing began to even out, and she began softly sobbing. He brushed her hair out of her eyes, noting that it now had a silver streak running down the middle of her head from front to back, and looked her in the face. She had a ragged scar that ran from right between her eyes down her right cheek that stood out bright red against the healthy pink glow that the rest of her skin had, a remnant from a sword wound that had been there yesterday when he found her. Low on her stomach, he saw another puckered scar where she’d been rammed through the gut by the sword that had finally stopped her. Still frightened, she reached up and grabbed at him, one hand grasping his robe and the other rubbing his face as though she were blind and couldn’t see. “Who...” she croaked. “Wha...” “Easy, easy. You’re safe.” He said, his soft voice full of equal amounts of wonder and love as he looked at the silver streak in her hair, brushing a hand through it comfortingly to reassure her. “Welcome back.” Tookey and Eld wandered about Talon’s Nook with the dawning of the sun, rechecking the defenses that were in place, giving advice and words of encouragement to those watching and waiting. It had been four days since Tasha’s return to Talon’s Nook, and Fat Murrah and his bandit troops would have been back from the raid by then and found their camp, and the message that Tasha had left by the pile of bodies. If he hadn’t come by tomorrow, then he wasn’t going to. But Eld seemed certain that he would ride in, and after the incident with the hung sheriff, Tookey was all too inclined to agree with him. Without thinking about it, they ended up their tour at the south end of town, facing down the Southerly road again. The lookout, stationed just at the treeline, saw them and gave them a wave and the ‘all clear’ signal. Tookey returned the wave, then spoke to Eld. “What do you reckon the little guy found?” “Whatever there was to find, I guess. I’m scared to guess, to tell you the truth. Tasha should have been back by now, were she comin’.” “Aye.” said Tookey solemnly, staring with sadness at the empty road. “I’ve no argument for that, say true.” “And if something out there was enough to prevent her from comin’ back, then what chance did the little guy have, eh?” He shook his head. “We shouldn’ta let either one of ‘em go like that.” “They were piss and vinegar, the two of ‘em.” said Tookey. “I’d sooner try and stop a storm with a soup spoon than to try and change the mind of either.” “You speak true, but my guilt tells me we should have tried harder, just the same.” said Eld, then spat on the ground in disgust. “Do you think we can hold the town without her?” “Not a chance.” said Tookey with a shake of his head. “But I’ll not go without a fight, so that’s no matter to me. If this be the fight what ends me, then I go up to my knees in their blood, and so be it.” Eld looked up at the big man, and nodded. “Say you true, Friend Tookey. Say you true.” At a loss for words, they turned and went back into town. Trellcon and his brother Armehed stopped, watching the long procession of troops ride by them with smiles and laughter. The slave train forces, who were used to such work, were expecting an easy day of it, as they had raided places that were much larger than Talon’s Nook, and felt they were prepared for anything that the Nook could throw at them. The bandit forces were a little out of sorts, having lost most of their number and their leader within one sun-cycle, but they too were confident that they were heading for a rout. They were but an hour out From Talon’s Nook, and Trellcon and Armehed shouted words of encouragement to the men as they rode by, reminding them that mercy was the road to poverty and death. The man in the brown robe offered Tasha some strips of jerky which she turned down with a shake of her head, as her stomach was still sour from the gruel. She was still naked, as he had nothing to offer her but his robe, which she had also turned down. Since her first effort at communication, she had fallen silent, sitting pensive and lost in her thoughts, eyes far away and unfocused. Her hand kept going to her face, trailing the scar that ran there. Once she had brushed her hair forward with her fingers, examining the silver streak that was in it, then let it drop as though it had no meaning for her at all. Finally she spoke. “Crossbows.” she sputtered, then fell silent again. He looked at her, but her head remained down, her hair covering her face so that he couldn’t see her expression. “What was that?” he asked, moving over to sit close to her so that he could hear her better. “It was crossbows. I was fighting, and got surrounded. I didn’t have time to keep track of everything, and while I was surrounded, they shot me with crossbows. They shot us all, even their own men. I was hit three times and I went down, then they fell upon me with blades, and I...” she closed her eyes, tears forming in the corners. “I failed.” The man in the brown robe slid next to her, draping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. She froze at first, then allowed herself to be pulled against him as the sobs overtook her. He held her there, unsure of what else to do, until she cried herself out. She was so young, this human girl. “Mayhaps all is not lost yet, dear Tasha. There is still a chance. The bandit troops left this morning, riding north. They have yet to reach Talon’s Nook.” “I have lost my weapons, and there’s no way that we could reach Talon’s Nook in time. They are going to be slaughtered by the time we arrive.” The defeat in her voice began to anger him, but it was equally matched by despair. He took a moment to choose his words carefully, as he’d had little dealings with humans, and none at all with recently resurrected ones. And girls of her race, he had heard, were prone to be emotional. So he composed himself before speaking again. “Long have my people had a legend of a silver-haired human, a Valkyrie. It is said that she would wield great power in the name of good and light, and be a steadfast ally of our race. I had always thought that the legends were so much tripe told to hatchlings as parables of glory and honor, and to promote empathy among us for humans. Then I saw your hair when you were resurrected and thought the legends just might be true. But the legends of the Silvermane also say that she will never give up, never turn her back on her friends, and will not accept defeat. When I found you yesterday, the bodies of fifty warriors adorning your death-site, I thought that you were worthy of saving. When I saw your hair after your resurrection, I thought that I had touched the face of the legend. But I see now that I am wrong, that you are defeated. Not by war, or men, but by the quakings of your own heart. I will leave you to your grief now.” He released her and stood up, wrenching himself loose from her grasp. She clutched at his robe, and he looked down at her and saw the spark of fire enter her eyes again. She ran her fingers through her hair again, looking at the silver streak that split it down the middle, then turned her eyes back up to him. “Who are you?” she asked, a hint of steel in her voice demanding an answer. He smiled, then held his hand in front of her face. It was mostly human, except it only had three fingers instead of four, with the thumb coming not from the side of the hand, but jutting from the bottom edge of the palm aligned with the wrist as a claw would be. His fingernails were pointed instead of rounded, and had a metallic silver cast to them. She grasped his hand with her own, turning it over to look at the oversized knuckles. “You’re a dragon.” she said with surprise, then to his surprise her face spontaneously burst into a grin. “A silver dragon!” “From snout to tail, Milady. And every scale of me in between.” “Then we can fly to Talon’s Nook...” she said, releasing his claw and casting her eyes down in furious thought. “...and maybe reach it in time to save it, and your friends.” Tasha leapt to her feet, her defeat gone, her helplessness behind her. Her face was a mask of determination, he saw with relief. The change had been as fast as spilling a glass of water. Standing before him, he was suddenly convinced, was the legend of the Silvermane, come to flesh. She wiped the dust off her butt and looked up at him. “How far is it to the spot that I died? I’ll need my weapons.” “Not far, Milady. Only a couple of miles to the north, on our way.” “How long will it take us to fly to Talon’s Nook?” “Maybe a half-hour.” “Do you have a name?” she asked, a trace of a grin on her face. He slid his robe over his head, folding it quickly and laying it on the ground in front of him, then stood there as naked as Tasha. He closed his eyes, raising his head to face the morning sun that broke through the forest canopy overhead. His neck shot out, his arms lengthened, his body filled out and grew scales. From behind him, a long whip-like tail sprouted. Scales appeared down the side of his body, exploding from the flesh with the rapidity of popcorn popping, and then laying down in an overlapping pattern. At the end of the neck, his head lengthened, sprouting horns above the eyebrows that laid back, snout emerging and filling with fangs. When his size increased, he fell forward onto his forelegs with a soft thud, wings exploding out of his back and stretching, stretching, stretching until they blocked out the sunlight, extending into the trees before he folded them and settled them across his broad back. When the transformation was complete, he stretched himself, sixty feet of brilliant silver scales refracting the sun down his reptilian body, then he lowered his head to face her as she stood there beside his left foreleg. “My name is...” he growled something that she couldn’t understand. His voice was deep and gravelly, with all the subtlety of a mule-cart full of stones grinding together. He noted her noncomprehension. “You may give me a human name, if you wish.” “We’ll call you Drac.” “Simple enough.” he said, grabbing his folded robe between two ten-inch claws and deftly sliding it under a scale on his chest for safe-keeping. He extended his foreleg for her. “Climb up and get situated, it’s not easy to take off from a confining forest and I daresay you’re no expert at flying to begin with.” “And are you an expert at flying with humans on your back?” she asked with an enthused grin as she clambered up, seating herself along his back just before the wingroots. “No, you’re the first. Will it make you feel better if I promise to be careful with you?” he said, then crouched and gave a mighty leap up, grabbing a treetop to launch himself further into the air His wings slapped open and closed, thrusting them into the sky, Tasha clinging naked and exhilarated on his back as the earth fell away beneath her. It was just past ten of the rooster when the Southerly road lookout fired a flaming arrow into the sky, and the town exploded into action. Tookey and Eld raced for the barricade that had been built in the street at the southern end of town, Eld clutching his bow and Tookey carrying his hammer. When they got there, the ten men assigned to the barricade were already there, the archers lighting the pots of pine pitch and readying arrows to be dipped in them. The lookout raced to the barricade and took up his position, a grim expression on his face. Tookey took a long, hard look at the line of horsemen that began to come out of the woods, fanning out to either side in the fields outside of town. Eld scanned the enemy group, his brow creasing with frustration as more and more of them emerged. “Something’s wrong. Fat Murrah’s not leading them.” “What?” asked Tookey, not taking his eyes off them. “Fat Murrah rides at the head of the group. His ego, you see? But he’s not up there. It looks like Trellcon’s leading them, and that’s his brother Armehed with him. That means that the Carpattan slavers are here with the bandits.” “What does that mean?” asked Tookey. “That means we’re in deep ****, friend Tookey. That means we’re in deep ****.” he said resolutely. Across the fields, men continued to ride out of the forest and arrange themselves for the assault against the twenty men that were set to defend the town. Drac and Tasha skimmed the treetops until they found the site of the previous day’s battle. “Hold tight!” he growled back to her, then raised his wings to lose lift and crashed through the thick canopy, snapping branches with his bulk as he settled to the road with a thump. Tasha was already sliding off his back, hitting the ground with enough momentum that she had to duck and roll out of it, springing back to her feet and looking around as she slid to a stop. The only one of her weapons that she even had a clue whereto look for was her glaive, which she had a foggy memory of being in a tree. Drac pointed to a broken sword blade stabbed into the ground near the edge of the battlefield. “There is where I found you.” Tasha trotted over, looking through the trees for the spot where her glaive had been, and suddenly stopped short, her mouth falling open in horror. “BUDDY!” she cried, running up to him, tears filling her eyes as she saw the two arrows protruding from his chest. She crouched down, laying her hands on the cold body, tears falling onto his kind face as she wailed in agony, screaming at the sky in horror, and rage, and frustration. Drac lowered his head, taking a sniff, then growled softly. “A friend?” Tasha nodded through her tears. “The best.” She saw her glaive then, in the grass beside his hand, then looked up into the tree, seeing the cuts where it had been lodged. “Oh, you dear sweet fool.” she said aloud. Turning to Drac, she wiped the tears from her face. “He came after me. I told them all not to, same as they told me not to go alone. Oh, I’m so stupid. I should have known he’d come. He’s... fearless. A true heart.” “It is indeed a shame to lose such a friend.” Drac growled in agreement, as softly as a dragon is able. “I share your grief, for this one I cannot revive. The resurrection magic I used on you is only good once per lunar cycle.” Tasha stood, tears still rolling down her cheeks, looking down at her dead friend. “You will be avenged, brother. I will pile a mountain of heads as a memorial to you.” “I understand your grief, Lady Tasha, but time is short, and we must be going.” “Yes.” agreed Tasha, and made the summoning motion for her glaive. The weapon flew into her hand, and as she caught it, she went suddenly rigid, locking up. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and Drac just barely caught her in a claw as she fell, every muscle in her body taut as iron, immoveable. A throaty “Unnnngh.” sound was coming from her, but Drac could get nothing else from her as he gently lay her on the road, unsure as to what he should do. The forces arrayed against Talon’ Nook were seeming to take their sweet time getting ready. The thirteen of them arrayed at the barricade watched with growing dismay as the last of the forces emerged from the Southerly road and took their places. Tookey turned to one of the younger men on the barricade. “Got through town and make sure that everyone is gone. Tell anyone remaining to flee for their gods-blasted lives. Then find the runner at my bar and send him to the refugees at Everclear and tell them that Talon’s Nook has been lost.” “Sir?” asked the man, not understanding. “MOVE!” roared Tookey, which sent the man scurrying down the street. Tookey watched him go, then turned to the rest of them. “Anyone here not prepared to die, I’ll let you know that there’s no shame in leaving now. Our cause is lost, and you’ll get no other chance.” “What of you, Took?” asked another man, a worried expression on his face. Tookey looked over at Eld, who gave him a nod, nocking an arrow into his bow with a sad smile on his face. “I’ll stand with the Nook, for good or ill.” Tookey shook his big head, looking out at the forces arrayed against them. “It’s the only place I’ve ever felt at peace in, and I”ll not let these bastards take that from me.” The other men along the line looked at Tookey and Eld, who were obviously not going anywhere, and to a man decided to make their stand at the barricade with them. Tookey turned to survey the town, looking for the other eight archers that lined the roofs of Talon’s Nook, all of whom indicated that they were ready. He raised his hammer in salute to them, then turned his attention back to the fields. Trellcon and Armehed, who had been amused to find that defenses had been erected in the form of the barricade, were even more surprised to see that even outnumbered ten to one, they were choosing to fight rather than flee. “Look at that.” said Armehed, watching Tookey salute his archers with his hammer. “Does the fool not know that he has no chance?” “What do you care?” asked his brother. “Mayhaps he’s a man of principles or something. Every man has his own reason for meeting his gods, we are but the tool that makes it easy for him.” “Then let’s get to it.” said Armehed, drawing his sword and holding it up horizontally above his head. Down his lines, the troops fell silent, their commanders signaling for the men to get ready. “Call for acid.” he yelled, and his flag boy stepped forward and waved a green flag. His mages began chanting. “PITCH!” roared Tookey, and the men along the barricade dipped the tips of their nocked arrows in the flaming hot pitch to set them ablaze. “TARGETS!” He yelled, and they each rotated to aim at the piles of straw that surrounded the field, drawing their bowstrings back and resting them against their cheeks. “LOOSE!” he cried, and the arrows flew, straight and true due to two days of constant practice, each of them sinking out of sight into a pile of straw. “Bloody fools,” said Trellcon. “What in the twelve levels of hell are they doing?” Armehed looked at the spacing of the piles, then observed the ground that they were on. “They’re shutting off our retreat, Brother.” As he said it, the piles began to flame up. “Why would they think it would benefit them to do that?” Tasha was back in Defender Keep, only she wasn’t. She was a ghost, a specter, standing at the back of the lecture hall where so many of her childhood instructions had taken place, and Mistress Katrina had the floor, trying to educate the young girls about the nature of Valkyrie magics. “The truth is, “ intoned Mistress Katrina in her solemn voice, “that the Ancestral Spirits are known for granting Defenders powers as they see fit, so that no Valkyrie will even know for sure what powers they might receive once they are called. One may get more destructive magics, such as fire elemental spells, while other might get more healing spells that help to spread the knowledge of Valkyrie goodness throughout the land. Should you be called, it is highly likely that your powers granted to you will be, in fact, unique to you and you alone. Others might share some of your powers, but no two Valkyries are ever given the same set of powers. For it is a given that no two Valkyries will ever face the same set of circumstances in the field once they are called.” Tasha’s head reeled with the insight, the memory of that lesson, and just as she remembered the day, and saw herself seated in the center row with Lezlie and Janock, she found herself falling out of the memory, falling through space and darkness. She fell for several moments, then heard a voice, a multitude of voices, and as she recognized them as the voices of the Ancestral Spirits, she landed softly but abruptly on a floor of rough stone,a glowing light cascading upon her as she stood, still naked, turning to look for some point of reference and finding naught but the small circle of light which illuminated her. “HAIL, TASHA LIGHTFOOT, VALKYRIE DEFENDER.” the voices boomed, rolling together and echoing through the darkness. “Hail to you, Ancestral Spirits.” she replied in a nervous voice. “YOU HAVE BEEN SUMMONED TO MAKE A DECISION.” they informed her. “FOR YOU HAVE SHOWN A STOUT HEART, BUT BRASHNESS AND RECKLESSNESS HAVE ALREADY BEEN YOUR DOWNFALL ONCE. YOU RUSHED INTO BATTLE WITHOUT THOUGHT, AND ALMOST DOOMED ALL THAT YOU SOUGHT TO DEFEND.” “I understand.” replied Tasha. “And I thank you for sending the dragon to save me.” “THE DRAGON WAS NOT OURS TO SEND. HIS ACTIONS ARE HIS OWN CHOICE, NOTHING MORE. OUR WAY IS TO ACCEPT OUR FALLEN INTO OUR MIDST SO THAT THOSE WHO FOLLOW CAN GAIN FROM OUR COLLECTIVE WISDOM AND POWER, AS YOU WELL KNOW.” “So what is the choice that you would have me make?” she asked. “As I’m sure that you are aware, my time to save Talon’s Nook grows short.” “YOU ARE EVER IMPATIENT, TASHA LIGHTFOOT. THE CHOICE IS THIS:” Two basins of water appeared before her, and in them she saw images. The first showed Buddy, laid out and dead, the second showed a view of Talon’s Nook’s south field, loaded with enemy forces, and the meager line of men behind the barricade to defend the town. Tasha reeled at the sight of the men arrayed against the town. She couldn’t comprehend how they had assembled so many men in so short a time. “FOR YOUR STEADFAST DEVOTION, YOU WILL BE GIVEN ONE OF TWO POWERS. YOU WILL EITHER BE GIVEN THE POWER TO RAISE YOUR FRIEND FROM THE DEAD, WHICH MAY OR MAY NOT LEAD TO THE DEATHS OF YOUR FRIENDS. THIS YOU CANNOT KNOW. OR YOU WILL BE GIVEN THE POWER TO OBLITERATE THE FORCES AGAINST TALON’S NOOK, BUT YOU WILL LOSE YOUR FRIEND FOREVER. CHOOSE.” “Then give me the power to save Buddy. I have every faith that my friends will hold the line until we arrive.” she said without a moment’s hesitation. “ARE YOU CERTAIN OF THIS?” they questioned. “THE CHOICE WILL BE FINAL.” “Yes. He gave his life for me. I would save it if I could.” “YOU HAVE CHOSEN WISELY, TASHA LIGHTFOOT, AND THE ANCESTRAL SPIRITS FAVOR YOUR DECISION. GO SWIFTLY AND STAND TRUE. TALON’S NOOK MAY YET BE SAVED BY THE HANDS OF YOU AND YOUR ALLIES. GO WITH OUR BLESSINGS.” “Thank y...” she started to say, but she found herself laid out on the southerly road, her armor on her again, and her glaive humming in her hand. Drac jumped when she jumped up and ran over to Buddy, crouching over him to snatch the arrows out of his chest. She retracted the blades into her glaive, making it a cross again, and laid it upon his chest, kneeling in prayer. “Ancestral Spirits, please give me back my ally and friend, he who stood for me unto his death. Ancestral Spirits...” Buddy’s eyes snapped open. He looked up at Tasha, and grinned. Copyright 2008 JS Brown |
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