Author's Notes: Please be aware that the content of this story is different from my other two (non-gratuitous-smut) stories. Some of the main characters' actions are morally ambiguous (or even just amoral). I didn't necessarily set out to write them that way, but that seems to be the way they turned out. You've been warned.
I don't own Grimgar. The following work is merely fanfiction. I own nothing. Credit goes to Grimgar's creators.
As always, constructive criticism is especially welcome – if you see errors, typos, plot holes, or something stupid, please let me know. Also, like everyone else, I thrive on reviews, so please leave one even if it's just to express what you like/dislike.
Chapter 1
The Argument And The Malice
"Maybe . . . you'd be better off as a Priest, Felicia," Yedani said hesitantly.
Ira almost snorted. He didn't know the girl, didn't know much, but he could already tell that he didn't like Felicia. It wasn't that she was necessarily objectionable for her personality, although that wasn't anything to shout for joy over, so much as . . . the way she was self-absorbed. Only, it wasn't even that by itself that irritated him. She expected others to be equally absorbed in her. She talked without having all that much to say, and while he sympathized somewhat with the dull fear in her brown animal eyes, the way they shifted uneasily in her dark chocolate face, she was beginning to get on his nerves.
"Well, we already got a Priest." Felicia gestured broadly with both hands at Soong.
Soong looked back at her uncertainly, brushing straight jet-black hair out of her dark eyes, pale, almost porcelain features uneasy, almond-shaped eyes darting briefly away before scanning the rest of the group of relative strangers. "I don't think we've settled it yet, so if you wanted-"
"No, I don't want," Felicia interjected, holding up her hands palms-out. "I really don't."
"It . . . couldn't hurt to have two." Mikhev half-shrugged, folding his arms. The sunlight gleamed in his short, platinum hair, blue eyes going briefly to Felicia before returning to looking pretty much anywhere else. "You just don't seem like you're really the fighter type."
"Oh don't y'all worry 'bout me," Felicia rocked slightly back on her heels, arms sweeping around in another broad gesture before she pointed to herself. "I am a fighter. Y'all best believe it. But I can't be responsible for y'all. I got's to worry 'bout me." She shifted her weight in an odd sort of sway. "I don't be tellin' y'all what y'all should be doin'."
Truth be told, she did have rather long arms and large hands and long legs, moving with a gangly, rolling sort of lope in her stride, the length of her gangly limbs giving her a notable amount of reach. Perhaps there was something to what she was saying, except she didn't seem all that coordinated, and Ira could see his own misgivings reflected in the gazes of the others.
Yedani for one, petite Yedani with her raven hair, dusky complected cream-colored skin, and night-black eyes, looked particularly worried. She hadn't said much, but she struck Ira as decidedly thoughtful and reasonably intelligent. Yedani had volunteered to be their Thief. She was almost completely Felicia's opposite, compact, every motion graceful.
Mikhev was compact in a different way, his body thick, though noticeably muscular rather than fat, of a height with Ira and nearly as deft in his movements as Yedani. No one had looked even mildly surprised when he said he'd take the Warrior job as his own.
While Kanoha resembled Soong to an extent in eye-shape, and hair, he was a little taller even than Ira, jet hair short, coppery facial features broader and more pronounced, cheekbones higher, eyes further forward rather than deep set. He was athletic, if not as muscular as Mikhev, and he'd taken the job of Hunter. Both he and Panashri had yet to voice an opinion.
Much as Kanoha and Soong shared a similar aspect, Panashri resembled Kanoha somewhat in complexion, if a little more brown than copper, and the color of her hair, but she was willowy and full-figured, eyes closer in shape to Ira's and a lighter shade of brown than even Felicia's. She'd quietly taken the role of Mage.
"You ain't chose a job yet, Ira," Felicia said, making another one of those open-handed gestures toward him. Ira had to resist the urge to bristle. "What you gonna be?"
"I just haven't said yet. I've picked Sorcerer," Ira said plainly, very nearly crossing his arms before he thought better of it, changing the motion into adjusting his collar.
"Don't you have to have some kind of emotion for that?" Felicia asked baldly with a vague, almost snatching sort of gesture, shifting her weight from one foot back to the other again.
Ira had to resist the urge to show her that emotion by throttling her and slamming her head against the paving stones a few times. If she noticed the growing malice in his gaze, it didn't show. She just continued to stare at him with those dumb animal eyes.
There were several jobs remaining on the list that no one had yet taken – namely Dark Knight, except he wasn't really inclined to run around swinging a sword, and his soft body didn't suggest that such an occupation would come naturally to him. Similarly, Martial Artist, Druid, Knight, Barbarian, and Samurai held little appeal.
The description of Mentalist called for a serene, contemplative nature given to the abstract, and Warlock involved a pact with a demon master, neither of which Ira even wanted to entertain the idea of. The only other job was Bard, but it struck Ira as a little on the insipid side.
Sorcerer, on the other hand, called for the channeling of feelings into power. At the moment, irritation with Felicia was providing a very ample supply.
"It doesn't seem to me that it will be an issue," Kanoha said suddenly.
"You know what? I'ma get back with y'all." Felicia held up her hands in that same large, open gesture that didn't seem so much an attempt at placation as warding off pressure before putting them on her wide hips. "I'll let y'all know whenI have made a selection." The emphasis and tone seemed to indicate that she felt the decision was one that would be made without anyone else's input.
It wasn't so much that implication that bothered Ira as the implicit suggestion that everyone else's opinion had no value.
"We'll meet back here in seven days, then, once our training is complete," he said crisply, in no mood to endure her presence any longer than necessary. "Bri said we have to figure things out on our own. That means ask questions of everyone about everything. Gather all the information you can."
"How is that figuring stuff out on our own?" Felicia had the nerve to ask.
Ira had to focus just on keeping his features composed for a moment before he could even speak. "You don't have to," he said simply and evenly, looking directly at her before turning and walking away.
The Sorcerer's Guild was built into the side of a hill, innumerable pale limestone columns holding up a portico, the vaulted, distant ceiling carved in relief with creatures that were half-beast, half-elemental giving entry to a high-ceilinged hall with friezes of more of the same.
His teacher wasn't exactly what Ira had been expecting. He'd assumed it would be someone like himself, average in height, outwardly statuesque and composed, everything channeled within. Instead it was a big man, long-limbed and decidedly rangy, a grin on his broad features, brown hair starting to gray at the temples over green eyes. He didn't look like the sort to maintain a ready reservoir of powerful emotion kept carefully in check. He looked like the jovial kind of guy one might find at a bar after work, easygoing and carefree.
His eyebrows rose slightly as Ira approached, smile taking on a slight hint of what could have been amusement or bemusement or a combination of both.
"I can see you've come to the right place," he said as he straightened from his chair.
Ira had been hoping that Felicia wouldn't show at the end of the seven day initial training period, that she might have fallen and broken something and died or at least become an invalid.
He had no such luck.
She was there when he arrived, talking to Yedani and Panashri about something, making those large gestures, probably audible for an ungodly distance. Kanoha stood a little ways away, Soong and Mikhev similarly just a little distant from the others.
Yedani's long gray skirt and long-sleeved black shirt had been replaced by sensible dull-green pants, ankle-boots, a brown tunic, and a sand-colored shoulder-cloak. Two belts full of pouches were wrapped around her hips, long knives strapped to her thighs. Her green headscarf was no longer wrapped around her head all the way down to her chin, but now tied around her hair.
Panashri still wore the loose billowy pants she'd had on before, but her top was now pale red and long-sleeved, with a high-collar and brown wooden buttons down the right side of her front. Her shoes had been replaced with calf-high black boots, and there was a knobby, not-quite-straight staff cradled in her right arm. She'd braided her hair, and it fell halfway down her back, secured with a leather thong.
Soong's top was similar in cut, only white, with clips instead of buttons, still wearing the fitted jeans she'd arrived in, soft brown boots laced up to her knees, black hair tied back with a blue ribbon, what looked like a flanged bronze mace hanging from the loop on her belt.
Kanoha's loose, thigh-length tunic was a patchwork of soft brown and green squares, dull brown undersleeves embracing his biceps down to his forearms, faded green hose clinging to his muscular thighs and calves in a way that suggested that there was little left to the imagination beneath the tunic's hem, boots laced up to just above his ankles. The leather harness across his shoulders held the scabbard of his long knife across his chest with a leather loop over the cross-guard guard keeping it in place and a long, unstrung bow at his back. The straps looped around his belt held his capped quiver at an accessible angle with the mouth above the back of his right hip.
Mikhev had on a thick, padded tunic with a collar right up to the top of his neck, a gray breastplate with a few scratches and dents across his broad chest, chainmail hanging underneath it down to his hips, thick rigid leather with bolts showing through it girding his thighs, lobstered plates that looked as used as the breastplate sewn to boots that came up to just below his knees. Like Kanoha, he wore a leather harness, only it held a broad-bladed sword with a flat cross-guard and a large, single-headed axe across his back. It took an effort to no more than glance at the large, mismatched bronze codpiece over his crotch.
Ira had opted to keep the thick, dark green coat and loose-fitting jeans he'd arrived in, but reluctantly traded in his thin t-shirt for a much sturdier gray tunic and his impractical sneakers and ankle-socks for thick stockings and durable boots more or less identical to Kanoha's.
Felicia's hip-length navy jacket and buttery blouse had been replaced with a thick, plain brown gi that left her plain, slightly stretched white undershirt visible, her navy slacks replaced with brown trousers of identical fabric to her gi. A pair of wooden nunchucks connected with thick rope was tucked through her belt.
"I was like – y'all gonna take my shoes and make me wear these wooden platforms? Aww, hellnah!" she was saying as Ira approached. She glanced over, shifting her weight and cocking one leg, the aforementioned shoes still clearly in evidence. "Oh, you finally showed up. We been here almost twenty minutes," she said as she tilted her head slightly to one side. I thought you mighta got lost – I had to tell everyone not to leave."
That got a number of sideways glances that suggested the opposite. Ira forced a small, flat smile to keep his immediate aggravation in check, not missing the way Mikhev started to take a step back and Yedani actually did.
"I was able to get directions and a map to a place in the forest where goblins are easily found," he said with a calmness he didn't feel. "I've checked with quite a number of more experienced Volunteer Soldiers, and most of them said it was the best way to start."
"Oh, well that's tight. Y'all doin' the research, gettin' that information." Felicia nodded, making another large gesture with her hand, this time sweeping it across her front, as though scooting something out of the air in front of her. "Let's do them goblins, then."
Ira lowered the long, broad-headed spear he'd had over his shoulder and held it out to Kanoha. "Here – I thought about selling it, but I figured I might see if someone else could use it first, and you look like you might be able to."
Kanoha blinked, and then stepped forward, hefting the spear in one hand, then both. He pursed his lips, and then nodded, turning and leveling it. "I . . . I can't say why, but this feels – kind of familiar. I think I can." He glanced at Ira. "Thanks."
Ira shrugged. "You're welcome. Like I said, it was that or I'd sell it. Shall we go?"
"Yes," Felicia said, with a sudden bright, false smile that Ira felt would look more attractive with a large rock through it. "I think we shall."
They didn't have much trouble on the way to the forest. If anything, the walk was actually kind of on the relaxing side, Felicia notwithstanding, with appreciable vistas from high on the hillsides, looking out over pristine valleys with shining rivers, deep, rich verdant green where they weren't a riot of color with wildflowers. It also gave them time to talk at least a little about what was ahead of them. With no one else opting to put their own offerings forward, Ira opted to take explaining their circumstances, insofar as he understood them, upon himself.
"So as far as strategies go, as I understand it, the Warrior and similar jobs are more or less the front line fighters," Ira said as they walked. He glanced at Mikhev. "It seems logical, given the armor."
Mikhev nodded, looking just the slightest bit uneasy.
"Yedani, in a party setting the Thief is a close-in fighter, but its best if you take the enemy from behind while their attention is on Mikhev. You and Kanoha's jobs are what they called a "light skirmisher" so its best if you can dish out the hits instead of trying to take them." Ira looked to Kanoha. "You're what they specifically called a "suppressor" - keeping any ranged enemies busy, helping pin down those that are closer in so Mikhev or Yedani can get in a kill-stroke, or even get in one yourself if you can. You should also try and intercept any before they can get to our more vulnerable members like Panashri or Soong."
Yedani swallowed. Kanoha just nodded, expression remaining even, giving no indication of his feelings on the matter.
Ira glanced over his shoulder at where Panashri and Soong were bringing up the rear. "Panashri – you and I are what they call controllers and strikers – we divide, disable, and where possible, kill the enemy. We have to keep things manageable for our in-close people and, as necessary, help Kanoha deal with enemies at a distance."
"Yes," Panashri said hurriedly, sounding as nervous as Yedani and Mikhev both combined.
"And Soong," Ira called back "you're in charge of keeping people alive. Everyone I talked to said it was really important to keep back out of danger and spend your magic when it counts, not over scratches that don't matter, at least until we're back safe in Ortana. You've got that staff or mace or whatever it is in case you need it to protect yourself or Panashri, but your biggest job besides healing is staying aware of what's happening outside the fight as well as in it. Someone has to keep a look out."
Soong actually stopped as he met her gaze over his shoulder, staring at him wide-eyed, and then hurried to catch up with the rest of them as they slowed.
"Ira, you left me out," Felicia announced from where she was walking next to Mikhev at the front.
"Ah, yes," Ira managed to keep his tone bland. "Help Yedani and Kanoha."
"I can do that," Felicia said brightly, giving a thumbs up as she turned her attention forward once more.
It wasn'tstrictly untrue. Martial Artists were supposed to be medium skirmishers, engaging and eliminating enemies that were lightly or moderately armored, the hammer to the anvil that was a Warrior or Knight, or the other half of a pincer, so that light skirmishers could flank enemies.
Except that Felicia, for lack of a more polite way of putting it, seemed more or less incompetent.
Maybe he was being alittle unfair with that assessment. After all, he hadn't actually seen her fight yet – wasn't even sure how well he'd be able to handle it himself. All Ira had was what he'd cobbled together from talking to more experienced Volunteer Soldiers. If he was honest with himself, he was being sort of mean, even if it was mostly only in his own thoughts.
They came upon a pair of goblins without too much difficulty – they didn't look like much, squat, pot-bellied, green, with stubby legs and long skinny arms, but the daggers in their hands appeared sharp, and the conical metal caps on their heads, while dingy, looked sound enough.
"I suppose I'll go first," Ira said quietly. "Try and cut them off before they can run away. There are seven of us and two of them, so we should be able to win."
Mikhev grabbed his arm. "I thought I was supposed to be the front-line," he hissed.
Ira shrugged. "I'm mean. I'm going to hit them from here."
Mikhev let go, but he didn't look entirely convinced.
"Come, Spirit Of Ravenous Flame." Ira didn't try to say the words loudly. The incantation wasn't for the goblins to hear, really. It was to focus the power he was about to draw on. He let himself feelthe words, intensity so much more important than sound. He needed the words to roll through him, to give shape to what grew inside him – a feeling that was more than just emotion, that fed on those emotions, that grew out of them as it swelled within him.
"Take form, and become my armament." Hecould feel the words, could feel the strength behind them, filling them like a vessel. A spear of flame with the head of a serpent crackled into being just to his right, suspended in the air. Exultation rose up within him.
"Strike."
He felt the release like his body was a bow, soul abruptly snapping with the expenditure of pressure.
The goblins looked up, snaggle-toothed mouths opening, perhaps in surprise.
The one on the right grunted as the fiery spear dove into the middle of its abdomen, dropping to its knobby knees, eyes tightening as it let out a tortured, breathy wail and collapsed forward onto its forearms.
It wasn't enough. It wasn'tsatisfying. The power within Ira remained, needing to beused, to be expended. Ira was dimly aware of the goblin's companion recovering from staggering back, turning to run.
"Come, Spirit of Ravenous Flame. Take form, and become my armament." The words seemed to almost draw themselves forth from the sensations inside of him, as if they breathed of his very substance.
A half-dozen of the fiery spears crackled into being around him. A zephyr of hot air washed over him, ruffled his hair.
"Strike."
The fallen goblin jerked as those snake-headed projectiles buried themselves in its back, shuddered, and went limp. The flames hissed out.
Ira remembered to breathe. The other goblin had gone, the thrashing of branches as it fled already distant and dwindling. The scent of burned flesh hung in the air. He glanced around.
No one had moved from where they were crouching in the brush or hidden behind trees – they were all staring at him, even Felicia. Not a single one of them, not even her, said a single word.
He moved forward, alone, to see what his first kill had yielded.
The goblin had half a silver, literally half, in its pouch, along with a pair of long, yellowed claws. Ira wasn't sure what, if anything, the claws might be worth, but it was possible they'd be worth something at least. He wrapped the dirty fabric pouch around its contents and tucked it into a pocket.
Kanoha was the next to make a kill. The goblin ran from Mikhev, managed to get its dagger in the way of Yedani's long enough to scoot by her as it fled, and let out a mewling sob as the head of Kanoha's spear dove into its lower back. Kanoha pinned it to the ground with his spear, put his knee on its back, grabbed it by the long ears, and pulled its head back, releasing his knife from its scabbard on his chest harness.
He hesitated for a moment, and then reached down, and sawed it through the goblin's throat.
There was blood, but it wasn't as much as Ira had expected, soaking into the earth almost as quickly as it pooled.
Strangely, it was that second kill that made Felicia turn away and vomit into a bush. The second goblin had a goodly smattering of coppers and a rough-cut red stone of some sort – painite or bloodstone perhaps.
"I'm all right," Felicia said loudly after a moment despite no one asking. "I just needed a minute."
Their third encounter was with a pair of goblins, and this time they managed to work more as a team. Mikhev came at them from the front, Yedani from the side, and Panashri murmured something that made a glimmering, intricate purple pattern glow briefly in the air before erupting in a ball of pale green fire that almost bowled one of their targets right over.
Mikhev's sword went into its gut, axe cleaving through its collarbone and a good way into its right shoulder. Kanoha's spear took the other goblin in its left bicep, and suddenly Yedani was behind it, stabbing furiously, almost frantically with both hands, driving her dagger again and again into its back until it sank to the ground.
"Oh . . . oh mah gawd," Felicia said, hanging back, one hand close to her mouth, animal eyes wide. "Oh lawd. Oh lawd."
"Are we . . . is that enough . . . for one day?" Soong asked quietly, eyes squeezed shut, arms crossed over her chest, fingers curled and tucked under her chin.
They looked to him, all but Felicia, who was still staring at the goblin corpses with what appeared to be horrified fascination. Ira wasn't sure when he'd become the leader – he'd given guidance, sure, based on what he'd learned, but . . . well, he supposed it wasn't as though anyone else had yet claimed they wanted the job.
"I . . . well, we have enough money to eat, and maybe we can see what they're selling in the market." Ira shrugged, not quite comfortable with the idea of necessarily giving orders. "We can see if we can get money for the odds and ends we picked up too."
"Yes, please," Yedani said in a small voice, staring at the blood on her dagger with an almost bewildered expression, as though not quite sure how it had come to be there.
He managed to haggle thirty-eight coppers out of the silver coin half, and two more silvers each for what turned out to be grolit claws. Kanoha got a silver for what indeed turned out to be raw bloodstone, and the last pair of goblins had carried twenty-five and twenty-nine coppers respectively and a black wolf fang that fetched price of a silver and forty coppers.
All told, they ended up just seventeen coppers short of nine silvers. A silver and thirty-one coppers each wasn't a bad haul for what had really only amounted to a half day of hunting goblins. Arguably the largest portion of that was Ira's, but it was best to set expectations to where everyone benefited equally right from the start. He certainly couldn't leave Soong out in the cold when he was the one who'd told her not to fight on the front line.
Besides, the only one he really objected to sharing his bounty with was Felicia anyway.
They had dinner at a place called Shelly's Tavern, and in all honesty the food wasn't terrible even if it wasn't the best Ira had ever had. Of course, that being said, there weren't that many meals that he actually recalled all told.
Watching Felicia walk to the table with that rolling stride of hers, he thought suddenly it was too bad that there wasn't a Sailor job. Then he wondered how he even knew what a Sailor was or what it was about her bizarre way of walking that made him think such an occupation would suit her. Still, thinking of her miles away, it was a nice distraction – and if her ship went down somewhere out on an ocean - the notion was simply delightful.
The idea only gained more appeal listening to her natter on at the serving girl about the offerings for dinner. After that she complained about the temperature of the soup, the hardness of the bread, and the texture of the meat and vegetables.
It was a struggle not to shoot her a glare. He felt only mildly mollified when Mikhev finally gave her a disgusted look and told her to stop complaining because the serving girl had done more work than she had. The loud, dramatically emphasized sniffles were almost as obnoxious except that they tapered off reasonably quickly once it became apparent that no one, not even Soong or Yedani, was looking at her with the slightest bit of sympathy. If anything, those two in particular were avoiding meeting her gaze.
Peace was short-lived. On her second pint, Felicia discovered her love of beer. Ira finished his soup, paid his tab, and got up. Mikhev glanced up at him, hurriedly scooped the last of his bread through the slurry of soup remaining at the bottom of his bowl, and got up as well, shoveling his food into his mouth.
Kanoha had already left several minutes ago before any of them, finishing his meal without a word, which left Soong, Panashri, and Yedani at the table with Felicia. Soong started eating faster. Panashri and Yedani shot them looks that might have been wordless pleas not to abandon them.
Ira felt a mild pang of sympathy, but it wasn't enough to hold him. He and Mikhev were a little less than half a block away when their Priest caught up to them at a jog, falling in behind them. Mikhev glanced back at her, lips twisting in a cross between a wry grin and a grimace, and shook his head.
Ira couldn't explain how he knew that the Volunteer Soldier Trainee quarters they'd been given were a long way from luxurious, any more than he could explain why or how he missed having a wide-toothed comb and a good boar-bristle brush to keep his hair under a modicum of control.
Knowing that didn't change matters though, and it certainly didn't make any difference in the first breath-stealing hasty rinse and quick, cold scrub in the crisp fall night air followed by a bone-numbing immersion beneath the ice-cold cascade in the little stone-floored courtyard reserved for bathing as he was getting ready for bed. He knew some of the quarters were close enough to local hot springs to tap them for hot water, but they hadn't been so fortunate in being assigned living space. He didn't want to go to a bath house either. He had plans for the coin he'd earned today – namely a new skill and at least that comb.
He walked into the kitchen, clothed once more but still shivering. Mikhev looked at him, grimaced, sighed, and went back the way Ira had come.
Kanoha glanced up from where he was sitting next to the hearth. "That's setting a rough routine for this time of year."
Ira blinked. "What – hygiene? No one's making the rest of you wash, but you're more likely to get sick if you don't do it at least semi-regularly."
Kanoha rolled his eyes. He stood, grabbing the large fired-clay jug from the supply of crude crockery that had come with the quarters, and went to the pump, filling it up before setting it on the iron lattice over the hearth. Then he followed Mikhev.
Ira watched him go, and then opted to simply shake his head in lieu of saying anything and took Kanoha's place next to the hearth, holding his hands out to the heat and drinking it in.
"I'm glad you're our leader," Soong said quietly, sitting down across from him.
It was Ira's third surprise in half as many minutes and he looked up at her in surprise. "What? Why am I the leader?"
Soong half-shrugged, looking down and running her fingers over her hair. "You just – you're the one figuring things out, telling the rest of us what we should do, and it . . . makes sense - what you say makes sense, I mean."
"Oh," Ira said, the word as much a sigh as an acknowledgment. "Thank you, I suppose."
"You're um . . . you're also not mean," Soong continued. "Even though . . . even though all of us can tell you want to choke Felicia."
"You don't?" Ira asked dryly.
Soong gave another of those half-shrugs, biting her lower lip. "She . . . she's pretty annoying. I feel bad for Pana and Yeda but . . . better them than me."
Ira let his eyes slide closed, let his head drop, and let out a small, wry chuckle.
There was a loud sound from the direction of the bathing courtyard – a cross between a yelp and a whoop. Ira glanced in the direction of the sound, and then back at Soong in time to catch a smile that seemed torn between amusement and ruefulness.
Mikhev trotted in a few minutes later, barefoot and bare-chested, shirt in hand, crouching in front of the open end of the hearth and running his hands over his hair. He didn't seem too much the worse for wear. Kanoha returned not long after, moving a bit more slowly.
He was a very macho, stoic sort, Ira realized after a moment, watching as Kanoha checked the water temperature in the jug with his little finger.
He'd initially thought Kanoha was making preparations for hot drinks. Instead, Kanoha glanced at Soong. "It's fairly hot now – if you lather quickly it should stay warm long enough."
He was also, evidently, a gentleman.
Soong's eyes widened. Mikhev looked up at her and then back at the hearth. "Go on – I'm too cold to leave the fire, and Kanoha isn't going to look. Ira doesn't care."
Soong nodded, inclining her head to Kanoha in a sort of little bow. "Thank you."
Kanoha nodded back slightly but said nothing as Soong took the jug with her.
"I don't care?" Ira asked pointedly, glancing at Mikhev, not so much offended as surprised yet again and curious as to how Mikhev had even known about his preferences.
"The serving girl bent over right in front of you and your eyes never even left her face. You noticed right away though when that brunette stood up two tables over and adjusted himself on the way to the door." Mikhev's tone remained casual. "I didn't even think he was in your field of vision." He looked over at Ira. "Why'd you make me be the one who had to say something to Felicia?"
Ira snorted. "I didn't make you do anything."
Mikhev shook his head. "It's not like anyone else was going to."
If Panashri, Yedani, and Felicia's return was loud or even notable, it wasn't enough to stir Ira from his sleep. When he woke in the morning though, Yedani was already up and heat was radiating from the oven despite the sun having yet to even crest the mountains.
"Good morning," he said quietly.
"That was Felicia snoring in our room," she said without preamble, glancing briefly at him before returning her attention to the split logs she was shoving into the opening at the oven's base. "She spent all of her share of what we each got yesterday, and a good portion of what she had left from Bri."
"Ah," he said simply. "Thank you for getting the fire started."
"That was Kanoha." Yedani glanced in the direction of the yard. "He's practicing more with the spear. I told him I would take care of making breakfast."
"My thanks again," Ira said quietly.
Yedani tilted her head slightly sideways for a moment in a way that suggested a small approximation of a shrug. "I may as well since I am making something for myself. I think . . . I have cooked this way before, but it was not recently that I did it last."
"I'm glad you at least have an idea of what you're doing then. Let me know if you need any help," Ira said, taking a seat next to the hearth.
"You might talk to Felicia. Remind her that she should be prudent," Yedani said almost without a pause after he'd finished speaking.
"I . . . was referring to breakfast, actually." Ira glanced at her.
She didn't reply to that.
It irritated Ira that Felicia could be a source of immediate aggravation even asleep and oblivious to the goings-on around her. He supposed he couldn't really make any claim to genuine surprise over that fact, unfortunately.
By the time the sun had been well and truly in the sky for more than an hour, it was readily apparent that Felicia wasn't going to rise any time soon. Breakfast was decent if a little bland, scrambled eggs stuffed into hot rolls. Ira's resolve to have a chat with Felicia had been slight from the start, wavered quickly, and evaporated through helping with cleaning the breakfast things.
"Since we're evidently not going back to the forest today, I'm going to the market," he announced.
"We could simply leave her here," Kanoha suggested quietly.
On the one hand, Ira wasn't certain he could trust Felicia not to do something foolish like wander out of town after them and get lost or even killed. On the other hand, that very idea had substantial appeal.
Itwould be a shame to waste the prime part of the day and just come back here to hang around the place. Ira had assumed at least one of his fellow party members would have objected to leaving Felicia to her own devices, but there wasn't a word of dissent.
He shrugged. "Get your gear, everyone."
They moved quickly, and before the morning was very old, they were already sneaking into encircling positions around a trio of goblins. Ira went first.
"Come, Spirit of Ravenous Flame. Take form, and become my armament." He recalled it readily, the way the words reverberated through the substance of his spirit and flesh, drawing the energy within him into the form of the magic he shaped. He tried to keep it moderate this time, conserve a little of his strength.
The goblins looked up, eyes widening as four snake-headed spears of flame crackled into being around him. "Strike," he intoned unhurriedly.
He'd meant to hit two of them, but it was more difficult than he'd expected. He got the goblin on the right square in the chest with two of his spears and it flopped backward, the third going wide and sparking across the dew-damp earth with awhoosh, the last spear scoring the second goblin's ribs as it flung itself sideways out of the way.
The third goblin shrieked and charged toward him. Kanoha came charging out of the brush to intercept, and Mikhev and Yedani faced off against the one Ira had wounded, cutting off its escape.
Panashri's first ball of green fire missed the goblin trying to get past Kanoha's spear and close enough to engage with its dagger.
It wasn't difficult at all to conjure two more flame spears.
"Kanoha," Ira said, trying to divide his concentration between maintaining the spears and talking at the same time. "Try and back up or something. Give me an opening."
One flame spear shivered, flames flickering, and guttered out. Ira grimaced and held onto the other one with all his concentration. Mikhev and Yedani were trying to get through the other goblin's guard, but it was clearly putting everything it had into trying to stay alive, huffing and whimpering, ducking and parrying as it rapidly backpedaled.
Kanoha abruptly dropped his spear and leapt back, going for his long knife, barely getting it out in time to drive the goblin's dagger away from his face, but the blade cut into his shoulder instead and Ira heard him grunt.
The goblin pressed him, and Kanoha had to give ground, barely keeping the dagger at bay. He had a significant advantage in reach, but the goblin was much closer to the ground, agile, and obviously practiced with its dagger. It let out an evil little sound, something between a howl and a hair-raising shriek, still fighting.
Then it covered its face as another of Panashri's green balls of flame washed over it. Kanoha grabbed the arm with the dagger, picked the goblin up with sheer brute force, and slammed it bodily against the trunk of a nearby tree before shoving his knife through its wrist, pinning it there. He backed up, and Ira's flame spear dived in between its ribs.
It let out a coughing gurgle.
The last goblin let out another whimper at that sound, almost lost its head to Mikhev's sword, and turned to run. Mikhev's axe chopped through one leg and lodged in the knee of the other, and then Yedani was on the goblin's back, one of its long ears in one hand, jamming her dagger into the side of its neck.
It was Ira's first time seeing Soong's healing Light Magic in action, lines of delicate rainbow light gleaming on the air like the wings of a butterfly before diffusing into Kanoha's shoulder, glow fading and leaving behind unbroken flesh.
Kanoha looked at her and nodded. "Thank you."
Soong smiled slightly. "You're welcome." She cleared her throat. "I . . . I feel useful now. I mean, not that I'm glad that you got hurt," she added quickly.
Kanoha didn't smile, just nodded. "It's a good thing you're with us."
It wasn't so much that they improved drastically over the course of the day, but they did improve noticeably as they tracked down goblins and eliminated them, taking whatever small trinkets they happened to be carrying, their crude daggers and ubiquitous little helmets going into a sack to be sold as scrap.
Ira, Kanoha, and Panashri began starting each attack in concert, Ira's spell the signal for Kanoha to nock an arrow and Panashri to begin her own spell. Lone goblins never even got close enough to cross blades with, and even pairs of them hardly lasted much longer. Yedani got better at circling around goblins after Mikhev had them focused on him.
Their attacks came in closer together, tighter, more coordinated.
By midafternoon they had worked their way in not farm from the outskirts of the old part of the abandoned city of Damuro where the goblins were thicker in their numbers. Ira was beginning to feel genuine strain, enough that it was taking him a moment to catch his breath. Panashri was pale, but she hadn't complained. Soong and the others still looked relatively fresh.
"I'm sure you could go at this all night," Mikhev said finally as they crouched in a glade to take a breather, voice quiet. "But Panashri looks worn out, and I'm sure everyone's impressed by your endurance."
Ira blinked. "I . . . wasn't trying to impress anyone. I just wanted to keep up."
Mikhev snorted. "With who?" He shook his head. "Never mind."
"We can go back if the rest of you are ready as well," Ira replied quietly.
"Good," Kanoha murmured. "Yedani and I will scout the path back."
They only encountered one goblin on the way back, and Ira only knew about it because they passed it lying face down across the trail, three of Kanoha's arrows in its back and several deep knife wounds providing clear evidence of the manner of its passing.
In comparison to their previous day's efforts, the bounty from their day's work was substantially larger by orders of magnitude even after they'd divvied it out. No one made mention of reserving a portion for Felicia, and in fact up until that point, Ira realized he hadn't even thought of her.
He certainly wasn't about to put the notion forth himself.
"Shall we have dinner and then head back to our quarters?" he asked, feeling rather genial at the idea of postponing a probable encounter with his least-favorite member of their group.
"Please – I'm starved," Panashri said quickly.
"I thought tomorrow we'd take some time to get a little bit better gear," he said as they made their way towards Shelly's Tavern. Looking at goblin helmets all day had made him all too aware that Mikhev had no such protection, and for that matter Kanoha and Yedani could use protection that was a bit more substantial if they were going to be in close. "At least a helmet for Mikhev, and some kind of armor for Kanoha and Yedani." He glanced at the three in question. "I have no problem helping to defray the cost, and then after that's done I mean to spend some coin on training for a couple of new skills."
Mikhev reached up, patting his head. "Couldn't hurt. Not one like those little cones the goblins wear though. I don't want to be confused for one."
"They don't seem to do them much good anyway," Soong added. "I'll put in money towards that helmet and armor too."
"This plan is prudent, Ira, but you've already given me a weapon. You don't need to gift me armor as well." Kanoha hefted the spear he'd been carrying over his shoulder.
"You staying alive benefits all of us, especially when you'll be in close." Ira shook his head.
"Right - what if you need to get in the way of something again?" Mikhev interjected. He socked Kanoha lightly on the shoulder. "You and me – we have to keep trouble clear of them."
"Indeed," Kanoha conceded.
Talk at the tavern centered mostly around the way the goblins in Damuro were continuing to keep their patrols both frequent and numerous through the old part of the city. It was making it difficult for fledgling groups to access the city and the more affluent goblins without a high degree of danger.
The gnolls, cousins to the kobolds in the Cyrene Mine, were mentioned. Apparently they were establishing semi-permanent camps in the Hills of Bowen on Damuro's northwest flank between the city and the mine, and it was speculated that it was for the purpose of raids, or trade, or both.
Some groups thought those camps might present an attractive opportunity if trade was really going on since it meant non-human merchants and goods being concentrated among them, but also meant tighter security.
It was something to think about, at least until they got back to their quarters and Felicia came striding out with that strange, unattractive rolling walk of hers, hands above her head.
"Oh mah gawd, I can't believe y'all left me! I thought y'all mighta died, and I was all alone, and I couldn't get no fire started, and it was cold, and I could barely find anything to eat!" Her loud voice carried with unwelcome clarity through the chill night air.
Ira wasn't the only one to slow, but he was the one to get looks from the rest of the group.
He sighed. "Felicia – don't drink yourself into a stupor," he said plainly. "We're going shopping tomorrow. We'll probably go out the next day though. Be ready to go with us this time."
She sniffled. "Did y'all at least bring me somethin' to eat?"
"I . . . have a couple of leftover meat dumplings," Panashri said after a long, pregnant pause. "You can have them."
"Oh lawd, thank you!" Felicia rolled forward and wrapped her long arms around Panashri. "Thank you, I been so hungry!"
Ira's nostrils tightened as he caught a faint hint of the scent of Felicia's unwashed body odor. He felt a distinct pang of sympathy for Panashri as he headed inside. He also felt the unavoidable necessity of washing again even though it was going to be just as cold or colder than before.
This time when Mikhev grimaced at the sight of him returning shivering to the kitchen, Ira didn't even acknowledge him. He wasn't making the other men bathe after all.
"There's a bathhouse in Ortana that has hot water, and hot springs," Kanoha said as he returned, hair wet from his own wash, skin pale. "It's thirty coppers, but . . ." He shrugged, trailing off.
Ira shrugged back without replying. Even with their good fortune today, thirty coppers wasn't cheap, especially as a daily expense. He at least had more expensive necessities, for the time being anyway.
That being said however, going upstairs and looking at the straw in his bunk was enough to convince him that he could at least spare enough of what he'd earned to afford a decent blanket.
Felicia was up with the rest of them the next morning. She didn't smell any better, but Ira kept his opinion on the matter to himself, busying himself with watching how Kanoha wielded the firestarter, finally getting an ember to glowing life after several tries and using it to light a swatch of hay that he used in turn to light the kitchen's center hearth.
Ira took charge of cooking the eggs, getting a mildly surprised look from Yedani as she came in, but she said nothing as she got out flour and oil and started making dough.
Garlic, Ira decided, adding the spice to his mental list. Maybe even pepper if it was cheap enough. A pinch of salt would have been nice, but even just the little time he'd spent passing through the market before now had been enough to see beyond a shadow of a doubt that salt was, in fact, not cheap. That fact struck him as a little odd, but of course he couldn't say why that was.
Once breakfast was served, eaten, and the cleanup was finished, Kanoha covered the fire in the hearth.
"I think . . . I think if I do this right, then it should still have embers we can light from later." Kanoha shrugged. "Or I may end up just filling the house with smoke."
"What about umm . . ." Mikhev reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know why, but flint and a piece of steel come to mind. Don't they make sparks?"
"Keep an eye out for them then," Ira said as he put the last of their wooden plates away.
It was strangely a relief when one of the others recalled something in the same way he did without knowing how or why or when they'd learned it. It was a little reminder, a similarity with others in the same situation. Maybe it wasn't the greatest thing to bond over, but it was at least something.
The helmet they found for Mikhev wasn't new, but it was solid, and it came right down to his shoulders, overlapping plates welded together over leather padding with a wide, latticed visor that Mikhev said didn't hinder his vision enough to matter.
The sewn thigh-length leather jackets they found for Yedani and Kanoha needed tailoring to fit comfortably, but with Ira and Soong and Panashri all chipping in to defray the expense, it didn't leave anyone in danger of being broke.
Felicia was generous with only her opinion, which was understandable in light of her circumstances even if it didn't improve Ira's estimation of her. Of course, realistically speaking, there was probably little she could do that would improve that anyway short of essentially becoming someone entirely different.
He was a bit more lavish on his blanket than was really probably necessary, acquired a suitable wooden comb at a very reasonable price of eight coppers, and still had enough to pay for training for a new skill without diminishing his remaining coin to a level that engendered concern.
"Not really the weapons sort, I see," his guildmaster said with that faint grin of his as Ira approached.
"I gave it to a party member that would put it to better use," Ira replied frankly.
There were a number of skills that were within Ira's financial means and level of expertise, but he ended up settling on the Charm enchantment for two silvers. He could see where it might be even more useful to have an enemy at his beck and call in some situations than it would be to be able to slay one or two.
He also more or less badgered his teacher into teaching him a little fire-starting spell for twenty coppers despite repeated assurances that a good firebow would be only a little slower and more energy efficient. Ira wasn't particularly concerned about the latter, and using a little magic was just faster and easier.
It was already after sunset by the time he was finished at the Sorcerers' Hall. The vendors and hawkers had already closed up their stalls. Ira considered making a stop at Sherry's to see if the others were getting dinner there, but decided against it, picking up a meal of soup and noodles with chunks of meat and vegetables from a little streetside shop that warmed him up inside for the rest of the walk back.
The fire in the kitchen hearth was already alight when he walked in. Yedani and Panashri glanced up from the steaming mugs cupped in their hands, hair still noticeably wet.
"Would you like some tea?" Yedani asked quietly.
Ira shook his head. "No, but thank you. I got some hot noodles on the way back. Is everyone else back as well?"
"Yes." Panashri blew across the surface of her mug. "We managed to convince Felicia to bathe. She cried a little afterward, but at least she's clean. I do not think she is taking this well."
Ira sat and shrugged. "I . . . I can't pretend that I feel much sympathy for her. We're all in the same situation. This may be more challenging for her, but . . . unfortunately that means she'll have to put in more effort," he finished after a pause, unable to think of a different way to phrase it.
Panashri looked mildly taken aback, and then, after a moment, she nodded. "This is true – if unfortunate – that there is only so much we can do for her."
Yedani took a quick sip of her own drink, and then a longer draught. "Shall we wait a little longer to make sure she's fallen asleep?"
"I am inclined to," Panashri replied, expression just the slightest bit guilty.
Perhaps it wasn't strictly necessary to bathe every night before bed Ira found himself thinking as he shivered through another hurried shower, lathering up his body with the soap before dousing it once more beneath the icy cascade and toweling off with fingers that had already started to go numb. Taking a hot bath seemed like almost an outlandish luxury by comparison even if Ira wasn't sure how he knew it would be so much more pleasant.
There were other things though – concrete, immediate, relativelyimportant things that he needed to spend that kind of coin on. For one thing, he and the others all needed at least one additional set of clothes so they could wash what they'd been wearing for the last few days.
Mikhev and Kanoha were having a low-voiced conversation when Ira walked in, something about the state of their weapons. Ira didn't pay particularly close attention to it as he pulled the large, thick felt blanket he'd bought out of his bag and unrolled it. The soft, deep green fabric seemed to almost caress his fingers. Ira was looking forward very much to the change from dry, often scratchy straw on his skin.
He scooped a depression in the straw, folded the blanket over in half within it, and settled into the envelope of soft, downy warmth it created. The difference was even more remarkable than he'd expected and he snuggled into it, letting out a deep sigh of true contentment.
"Damn. He looks really comfortable," Mikhev murmured.
"Indeed," Kanoha whispered back. "Mikhev, what-"
Ira opened his eyes, on the edge of sleep, comprehension taking a moment to make its way through his brain as the side of the bunk bed creaked and he caught a glimpse of Mikhev's bare body in the moonlight.
There was a draft of cold air, and then Mikhev's only marginally warmer body was abruptly pressed against Ira's and he was resettling the blankets.
Ira was frozen. "Mikhev," he finally said, surprised yet again by the platinum-haired Warrior. "What are you doing?"
"Getting comfortable," Mikhev replied evenly.
Kanoha started coughing in the dimness.
"Look, I'm not going to try anything and I know you don't mind," Mikhev continued. "There's enough room in here for both of us as long as you're not greedy, and we can share body heat. I was going to do it anyway when it got colder."
"Maybe you'd be better off cuddling with Kanoha." Ira tried to make his tone firm and hoped that Mikhev couldn't tell he was blushing fiery red in the little moonlight coming in through the window.
"He'd definitely kick me out – and besides, no blanket." Mikhev's tone turned overly casual. "Sweet dreams, Ira."
It took Ira a while to fall asleep, the process significantly delayed when Mikhev yawned and actually wrapped an arm around his middle, the front of his body pressed full-length against Ira's. Ira finally ended up rolling over, facing away, and Mikhev just crowded right up against him again.
Ira thought about kicking him out.
But he didn't.
When he woke in the morning it was with full memory of exactly what had happened the previous night, and he blushed all over again. The blanket wasn't exactly restrictive, but he was more or less nestled into where it was folded over, so there wasn't a great deal of give, and Mikhev's muscular arm was a solid weight over his ribs and around his belly that didn't make things much easier.
Mikhev let out a noise that was a cross between a snort and a grumble as Ira shifted. "Oh come on, just fifteen more minutes. Kanoha's already gotten up to start the fire anyway. I think he's trying to compete with you for toughness."
"I'm not trying to compete with anyone," Ira retorted.
"Good, because I think I might have cost you some points when you didn't kick me out last night. This blanket is amazing, Ira." He chuckled abruptly. "You weren't too bad either."
Ira tried to think of something to say. Nothing came to mind. Thankfully Mikhev apparently realized that he was only making things more awkward, because he didn't say anything else. He didn't get up either, though.
Felicia came down just in time to join the rest of them for the tail-end of breakfast, and then they were on their way in the early morning light. The air was well and truly cold now, the wind bitter when it blew. Ira was glad he had his coat. Felicia had her arms wrapped around herself.
The walk out to the forest helped get their bodies warmed up, blood pumping. If the cold bothered the goblins at all, it didn't show in their choice of garb – the same manky loincloths as before, dirty feet just as bare. Ira supposed they simply adapted to the change in the seasons like animals. Their little conical helmets probably helped them retain at least some of their body heat as well.
They didn't rove as much, tending to congregate in numbers around their fires, so perhaps they did feel the cold at least to an extent.
That also made them easier to corral since they were already bunched up.
It turned out that he wasn't the only one to spend coin on new skills. Perhaps rather appropriately for the season, Panashri had picked up a nasty little ice spell, creating a cloud of frost on the air that left the goblins coughing – dry, wracking heaves that made their eyes water. Mikhev's sword and axe moved so swiftly that Ira only saw gleaming trails on the air, lines of blood following in their wake a heartbeat later across goblin flesh. Yedani swept nimbly underneath a goblin's thrust, pivoting and shoving her dagger right into its back, and Kanoha put an arrow right through the last goblin's throat from fifteen paces away.
Felicia hadn't moved from where she was standing next to Soong, shivering, either from the cold or from what she'd just witnessed.
"Felicia – why don't you support Mikhev in the next fight?" Ira suggested. "Stick close to him. Try and get at the goblin from the side once Mikhev has its attention without getting in his way."
Felicia gulped. "I – do I gotta?"
Ira did his best not to shoot her a stare that indicated just how stupid he thought the question really was. Evidently he didn't quite succeed because Panashri grimaced and Yedani took a moment to study her shoes. Soong just stared at Felicia.
Mikhev cleared his throat. "Stick by me – we'll get you through this."
The second goblin campfire was on the edge of the lake. It had four of their prey huddled around it, fresh-caught fish just beginning to cook over the flames. Panashri's spell was no less effective this time and the pair of flame spears Ira brought forth struck only a moment later, taking one of the goblins out of the fight, one of Kanoha's arrows taking another through the throat.
That left two struggling unsteadily to their feet as Mikhev closed. Felicia hung back, nun-chucks shaking in her hand. Mikhev swung both weapons in a wide arc, and both goblins stumbled back.
"Felicia!" he called loudly. "Come from the left!" He swung again, and the goblins split – one heading left, the other scooting around the fire along the edge of the lake, right into Yedani's waiting knife.
Mikhev kept even with the other goblin, not pressing the attack, weapons brandished.
The goblin let out a loud caterwaul, holding up its dagger, mottle green features tense and angry, looking very nearly demonic.
Mikhev growled at it, baring his teeth, and it swung a few times, cutting the empty air with its blade.
"Felicia," Mikhev said, voice hard.
Felicia was shaking. "I – I can't, y'all – I cain't!" She brought her hands to her mouth, standing where she was.
It was only a little distance for Ira to cover, looking at the goblin over Mikhev's shoulder. Now was as good a time as any.
"Hear me," he said, letting the feelings well up within him, given shape. "Know me."
He could feel the goblin's will suddenly against his, a flickering thing, surprisingly delicate. He surrounded it with his own, with the power within him, enveloping it, suffocating it in a hardening crystalline prison. "Heed me."
The goblin started to shake, dropping its dagger, hands going to its head. The fight was already all but out of it, but Ira wanted to be sure he had complete control.
"Hear me. Know me." He could feel the goblin's last bit of resistance gutter and gasp into stillness beneath the weight of his strength. "Heed me."
The goblin let out a small, quavering, querulous sound, looking up at him, mouth trembling, eyes wide.
Mikhev was looking from the goblin to him and back. Yedani was staring at him, eyes slightly narrowed.
"I have it under my control," Ira said calmly. He gestured at the dagger the goblin had dropped. "Pick it up."
The goblin blinked, looking down, bent and picked up the dagger, studying it for a moment before looking to him once more.
Ira turned his gaze to Felicia.
Her gaze went from him, to the goblin, then back to him, and then she was shaking her head, waving her hands. "Oh gawd," she hiccupped. "Oh lawd, oh gawd, no. Oh please lawd, no. Please don't do that to me. Please, I'm beggin' you – don't be doin' that to me."
Ira shook his head. "I'm not going to put a spell on you. This will give you a chance to practice."
"Ira . . ." Mikhev's tone was uneasy. "Are you sure you can control it like that? I mean – if it hurts her . . ."
Ira shrugged. "It won't. Much. Besides, Soong is here." He kept his gaze fixed on Felicia. "We all have to fight. You have to fight too. There's no other way for us to survive here."
It wasn't entirely true. Felicia mightbe able to live for a little while as a beggar on what tiny pittance she might manage to scrape from any sympathy that came her way, at least for a few days. But in the winter, with no heat, too little food, and no shelter – she wouldn't last very long. Ira had no intention of sheltering and feeding her in exchange for nothing.
It was painful to watch, and Ira felt the first stirrings of pity mingling with the usual heap of plentiful contempt before it was finally over, the sounds of Felicia's sniffles and sobs and panting scraping at his nerves as she dueled the goblin. It was very visibly one-sided at the beginning, and she was utterly pathetic, but if nothing else, it gave Ira appreciation for just how deep his domination over the goblin's mind truly ran.
The goblin almost capered around her, nimble and quick, moving quickly out of the way of her wooden weapon, retaliating with its dagger – never doing any real damage, but the wicked edge left a slim, bleeding line here and there. Her blows that actually landed were almost utterly ineffective, and the goblin recovered quickly from most of the more telling hits, sharp little teeth bared, beady black eyes narrowed as it ducked and maneuvered, tormenting her.
By the end of her ordeal Felicia was a red-eyed, sniveling mess, sweating, hair wild, snot running down her face, blood welling up from a dozen little cuts, lunging and crying and scrambling until finally she managed to get the cord of her nun-chucks around the goblin's hand, forcing it back as she leapt on top of it, ramming her fist into its head over and over and over again until it finally stopped moving. She grabbed its dagger and plunged it again and again into the warty green chest until the goblin's blood soaked her clothes, and then crawled away from the corpse and cried some more.
Ira felt bad for her. Truth be told, he even felt bad for the goblin. He felt like he'd done something cruel, even though rationally it was no more cruel than what he'd done up until now. It was their lives or the lives of their adversaries, and while Ira might not take particular pleasure in the slaughter of their enemies, he was ready and willing to put his material interest and well-being above theirs. Fortunately for Felicia, his interests included hers to at least a limited extent.
He said nothing as Soong and Yedani and Panashri gathered around Felicia, helping her to the waters edge, sponging away the blood that was starting to clot in the tattered fabric of her savaged clothing. Soong healed her scratches and lacerations, and Yedani wrapped Felicia in her shoulder-cloak. Mikhev removed the cooking fish from the fire before they'd done more than char at the edges, and while Felicia still trembled, crouching close to the fire, she also ate.
She avoided looking at Ira for the rest of the day, uncharacteristically silent, nun-chucks clenched tight in her hands. She fought beside Mikhev, not particularly well, and visibly making every effort only to strike when she herself was in no immediate danger, but she did fight.
They made it to within sight of the fallen walls of old Damuro before Ira announced they were done for the day. He'd expected Felicia to look relieved at that, and while she did seem to relax a little at hearing it, her expression remained one of grim, dogged, worn and utterly disheveled determination.