Chapter One: Girl from the Plains
A girl in blue with leaves for hair,
Found me in the desert there.
She gave me water and gave me life,
And led me to the heart of strife.
Sand and grit and other unmentionable substances glued my eyes shut when I first awoke, but I pried them open carefully, assessing my situation even as I lay there helpless. Something soft was beneath me, though not too soft, it felt like a single blanket. Wind flapped fabric about, so I assumed that I was in a tent. And a tent could mean only one thing on the plains.
Sacaens.
The thought was not an easy one, the roving tribes of plainsmen were not exactly known for their hospitality. And yet there I was, wrapped in blankets, somehow healed from the wounds I had incurred from the bandits who had attacked me. That memory was hazy, as if my mind did not wish to recall it. I remembered being wounded, and then a flash of blue and green, and then, the nothingness that had occupied me and my dreams for the duration. When the voice called out, I started, tried to rise; I had heard no sounds of movement within the tent,
"Are you awake?" the voice asked, and its owner swerved suddenly into view. Bearing a bowl filled with what appeared to be water, a girl with the green hair of the tribes stood over me, concern in her eyes. "I had been worried, you slept for so long and kept so little water."
Water…damn that sounds good right now.
I made some indistinguishable croaking noise that was supposed to be, "Who are you?", my voice cracking. The girl giggled, seeming relieved that I could manage that much, and held the bowl of water to my lips cautiously.
"Here, drink." She demanded. "It will do your body some great good. I got as much water into you as I could these past few days, but you accepted little in your sleep, even when I lifted your head up as Grandfather taught me." Her eyes clouded for a moment there with a darkness that was beyond this little tent, beyond the two of them, but she did not explain, and it was gone before I looked up again from my drink. Well, she was welcome to her secrets, I certainly had enough of my own.
"Who…are you?" I managed, after drinking the whole bowl dry (and it was not a small bowl). She frowned again, but her eyes remained clear.
"I am called Lyn, of the Lorca." She said. Again, I saw the fleeting fog in her eyes as she mentioned her tribe, and wanted to reach out to her, to comfort her. But from what I had heard, the people of the plains did not react well to interference by outsiders, so I held my peace.
"Josef." I said, simply, and she nodded to show that she understood. We sat in silence for a few moments, myself trying to wake up completely, and she gathering food into a small pile on one of the copious cushions that occupied the floor of the tent. She was not silent as she fed hard bread, softened by water, to me; she sang in a lilting, pretty voice that was not quite low enough to be alto, but certainly not soprano. I did not know the words she sang, they were not in the Common tongue that all lands spoke, but her singing was soothing, though I did not let it go so far as to put me to sleep. When I had eaten all I could, she allowed me to sit up, and we resumed conversation.
"So, Lyn of the Lorca, why did you save me? Why were you even there at all to save me? I had been headed for the camp of plainsmen, but I had not expected to run into any of them until the next day. So why were you there to intervene?" Recalling the sharp bite of the bandit leader's axe blade, I shuddered. She sat there in silence for a few moments there, so I took a the time to examine her more closely. Tall for a woman, though slender, I saw sword calluses on her hands, and her skin was dark with sun. Her long, green hair was swept up into a ponytail that had more than a little of the whip about it, and her clothes were a garish blue that almost made me gag, embroidered with a red that made it even worse. I had come to expect a certain array of spectacular color from the Sacaens, however, they seemed to have no sense of what went with what, and would where yellow with blue as easily as black. She had the strong body of someone who worked hard, but that was also to be expected, the plains were not a forgiving place to live. She looked up at me from studying her hands, and there was lightning in her lively green eyes.
"You would not have met the plainsmen you sought, Josef. The tribe you sought was my own, the Lorca, and they were slain by the same bandits who attacked you, just six months past. All of them slain, all but me." Bitterness ruled her voice then, as if she wished that she lay beneath the sand with her people. "The cowards used poison, they tainted our water. There was so much pain. I still remember the pain I saw in my father's eyes as he lifted me up onto Windfinder, the sorrow." Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked away, as though she could not bear to share her pain with another. But before she could weep, or I could do anything about it some noise I did not hear made her fall suddenly silent and motion for me to do the same. Rising to her feet, she held a long, slender blade in her hand that I had not seen before it made it there, and stalked to the tent flaps. "I will see what is out there." She told me without looking at me. I sat there, waiting, until she returned, her lips compressed to a thin line of hatred and scarcely controlled rage. "It is the bandits." She spat. "Only two, but perhaps more than I can handle."
The way she handled that blade of hers made me think otherwise, but I did not say anything. Instead, I offered aid. "Lyn, may I help you?" I asked. Green eyes widened.
"You know how to use a weapon?"
I shook my head. "No, I am a tactician, I can help you to decide the best course of action."
Me? Weapons? You must be kidding, woman.
Her eyebrows rose until they threatened to mate with her bangs, but she seemed to take it in stride. "Very well then, I would appreciate your advice in the field."
I nodded and tottered to my feet. She reached out to steady me, but I waved her away, I could stand on my own. She conjured up my long, white cloak from the air, and I slung it over my shoulders carelessly. "Now, let me see the battlefield." She grimaced, and we went outside.
The odds were not so bad as they might have been. Only one of the bandits was approaching the tent, and that meant a fairly even match, depending on Lyn's fighting ability. The ground had a slightly downward slope, however, and leveled off somewhere between Lyn and the approaching bandit. If she waited, the bandit would have her off balance almost immediately and would be able to press his obvious size advantage. "Lyn, go to meet him." I told her, and she needed little more prompting. I followed closely, but stayed far enough away that I would not catch the wrong end of the wicked-looking axe the ugly man was carrying. In the first exchange, Lyn slid aside before the axe could touch her and scored a slice across the bandit's unarmored chest. A nasty wound, but it only seemed to make him angrier. He lashed out with the axe so quickly that Lyn did not quite twist out of the way completely, and shaved off a fair bit of skin. Seconds later, with teeth gritted against the pain, the girl slipped her sword through the man's heart and he fell backward, life's blood draining from the wound. I hurried forward, pulling a bottle out of a pocket in my cloak, thankful she hadn't taken the vulnerary out. She whipped 'round to meet me, but when she saw the potion, winced, and submitted to treatment. She hissed as I poured the healing liquid over the exposed nerves, but the skin and muscles began to knit almost immediately as the enchanted liquid did its work.
"Thank you, Josef." She said simply, then pointed at the enemy, who appeared to have taken over one of the abandoned Lorca tents. I frowned, he looked even bigger than his cohort, and held the axe like it was something more than a cleaver for cutting meat.
"That one is more skilled than this fool." I told her, and kicked the dying man with some rancor. "He will not be easy for you to best, I am afraid, even if he is alone." As if he saw me looking at him, he leered and brandished his axe threateningly. "He does not seem to be too concerned with getting you in daylight, though, or perhaps does not want to abandon the other tent. Either way, you must meet him, and you must do all you can not to be injured." I glared at her to show that I meant it. "He will be stronger than you, and you must not be hit, even if you sacrifice a hit of your own. I do not want to see my savior die, especially not when she is so pretty."
She actually smiled a little at the compliment, and might have blushed under all that tan, but she nodded, and made her way to the bandit, blade raised to attack. I watched as she struck a decent blow against him, but despite my warnings, he grazed her in the side. Cursing, I started to head forth, but she threw a hand back to stop me, ducking under an axe blow by bending her knees lower than I would have though possible. She swung her sword up, cleaving him from thigh to breast, and his axe stroke went wild, leaving her open to deal the killing blow. I caught up and used more healing potion on her wounds, and she smiled wildly at me. That look worried me.
"Vengeance is ours, Josef." She told me, and stood up when I had finished. I deposited the near-empty vial in my cloak pocket again, but frowned at her, and did not follow as she walked back to the tent. When she realized I was not behind her, she turned back, confused.
"Vengeance does not fill the belly, Lyn." I told her, and took a step closer. "Vengeance does not give life where life has been lost." Another step, and another, until I stared straight into her eyes as I stood before her. "Vengeance is not even warm, but cold, and will freeze your heart quicker than good steel. Vengeance is ours, but I would not dwell on it."
This time, the tears did come, angry and sorrowful at once. She looked close to using that blade of hers on me. "When I awoke, all of my family, and my family's family had already been buried, the tribe that saved me dug their graves. I did not even get to say goodbye. All there was was the emptiness, that hole in my heart where Mother and Father once were."
"And is that hole filled now?" I scowled, and pushed the bloody blade aside with a bare hand. She did not resist. "Do you feel fulfilled now that you have spilled blood to stop others to spill blood? No, Lyn, you must not fight for vengeance, you are too young for vengeance." Not that I was much older, but I had seen this before. "Your Mother would not wish you to fill yourself with hatred, and your father's sorrow and pain would be worse if he knew that they had been wasted on a stripling chit who hardly knows how to use her sword, and knows not at all how to love."
She jerked as though I'd punched her, and the sword fell to the ground with a clatter, but I pressed on. "You do know how to use your sword, very well, they did not fail in teaching you. But you forget love when you think of those who killed your people, and you must never forget it. Would you have cut me down, the one whom you saved from the ravages of the land? And for simply challenging you?"
"How…how dare you!" she whispered, somehow cold and hot at once. "I saved your life."
"And your father saved yours! How would you feel if I threw myself at that man you just slew, only to have my body slashed and quartered before you got a word in edgewise? Think, Lyn. Brother Flame and Sister Ice, Lyn, think."
The blood drained from her face, and the anger drained away with it. "Josef, I am sorry. Please, forgive me."
I scowled again. "Don't do that, you've no need to beg me for forgiveness. You did save me, and I appreciate that. But I, for one, think you should go on living."
"Yes." She said. I bent down to pick up her sword, and handed it to her, hilt first.
"Take it, Lyn."
"Lyndis." She murmured, taking the blade in steady hands. "To everyone else, I was just Lyn, but when we were alone, my mother and father called me Lyndis. You should know my true name."
I sighed. "Very well."
Her eyes clouded, but she wiped her tears away with her free hand and glared at me. "No matter what you think, Josef, my father's death must be avenged. Please, allow me to travel with you. I want to get stronger, to take vengeance where it is due. And stay alive through it, too." She added hastily, and I rolled my eyes.
"I'm not going anywhere until I've had a good rest. We can decide where to go from here in the morning."
We went back to the tent together, Lyn wiping the blood away from her sword as she walked, and me so tired I felt like I'd drop to the ground and start snoring at any moment.
"I'm headed to Bulgar." I told her the next morning. We shared a bitter tea over a tiny fire, and enjoyed the glorious sun of morning on the Plains.
"Then I will follow you there." She replied, sipping her tea evenly. "I will be your master swordsman, and you my brilliant tactician."
I grinned at her self-effacingly, but there was nothing of jest in her green eyes. We were on horseback by midmorning.
Author's Note: Well, I hope you all enjoyed it. I will change events if I feel like it will make the story flow better, but rest assured that the main story will remain intact. I'm just filling in a few of the gaps. Comments are welcome, though flames will get a good nuke or two in return.
~Truewind