A tale about Valen Shadowbreath and his first foray onto the prime material plane. First chapter includes a bit of character development for the character of Anara.
OOO
Anara blearily opened her eyes. God she felt like shit. Her mouth was full of cotton and the headache was pounding behind her eyes already. The previous night was nothing but a blur. All she remembered were a few empty bottles of liquor sitting in front of her before she passed out. It greatly surprised her to be waking up in her bed, instead of on the kitchen floor. She must have had the presence of mind to drag herself to the bedroom before she fell completely unconscious.
She pushed herself up and narrowed her eyes, looking through the crack in the curtains. It was bright outside. The sun was coming directly in her window, so it had to be after noon. Again. One of these nights all this drinking was going to catch up with her and she wouldn't wake up.
She threw her legs over the side of the bed and rubbed her eyes. Standing up caused her to swoon a little. The last traces of alcohol were still in her system, making her woozy. She stumbled to the door of the bedroom and then into the main room of the house in which she lived. There was a pitcher of water on the table and she poured herself a cupful. She greedily gulped it down and then poured herself another. Once her thirst was slaked, she notice that chairs were overturned and clothes and dishes had been strewn about the room. Yeah, the place was trashed. She must have thrown some stuff around after she blacked out last night. She went around, setting chairs and overturned tables to rights. It looked much better.
The headache was really pounding now – encompassing her entire head and starting down her neck. Riding would help, it always did. Hell, maybe she'd have an accident with the horse and die. It might be a quicker way to go than drinking herself to death. She went back into the bedroom and got dressed in her riding breeches and a soft woolen tunic.
Even for her, last night had been bad. She'd been hitting the bottle pretty hard since her husband died a year ago. Every night became an amalgam of all the nights before, and time didn't seem to pass. The wound she felt would never close, and she didn't want it to. If the pain went away, then it would be as if her husband had never existed, and that was a fact she just couldn't handle. Last night had been a morbid celebration of the anniversary of his death. Exactly one year ago today, she had found his mangled body in the forest. It would be poetic if she could contrive to die today, but she was too much of a coward to kill herself intentionally. She sighed.
She gulped down another cup of water and then went out to the barn. The only thing that she did for anything anymore was to take care of what animals were left. She had a horse, a cow and some chickens in a coop out behind the barn. She fed the cow, scattered some feed for the chickens and saddled up the horse. For a moment, she almost felt normal. She leaned her head against the horse's flank and stood there for a few minutes, comforted by the steady breathing of the beast.
There was a path that began behind the barn and went into the woods behind her homestead. It wound through the forest and eventually went over the hills into the next valley. It would also take her by the spot where the orcs had ambushed her husband and killed him. She didn't go by there very often, but today was special. She could stop at the site of his murder and say a prayer.
She mounted Violet, the horse, and rode out of the barn. She kicked the horse into a gallop, enjoying the feel of the wind against her face. Then she let Violet walk. The fresh air was already clearing the headache from her. The sun was shining in her face and there was a pleasant smell on the wind. She turned the horse onto the trail that led through the woods. After an hour, she came to the spot where her husband had met his untimely end. She dismounted and tethered Violet to a tree, then sat on a rock near the spot, her head in her hands.
The day he died was burned into her mind with a clarity that would not go away. All the details were there for the remembering: the way it had been cloudy most of the day; the smell of the bread baking on the hearth and the way his lips felt as he kissed her goodbye. Liam said he was going out to check the traps in the forest for rabbits. She had smiled at him and told him not to tarry. They had been married 6 months. He had inherited this farm from his parents when they had been killed by orcs in the same forest that had claimed his life. It was a case of life foreshadowing death. She remembered telling him to be careful. Then she remembered going about her day – baking bread, sweeping the floors, emptying chamber pots; feeding the animals. When it began to get dark, she got worried. All night she had paced the floor, waiting for him to return. In the morning, she had saddled Violet and ridden like a bat out of hell into the forest, down this very trail to find him. She had come upon the scene of the carnage with a knowing fear in her heart.
She had found him, mutilated almost beyond recognition, staring up at the sky with a look of abject fear on his face. His horse was gone – either taken by the orcs or fled when the attack began. She had ridden as fast as she could into the village and summoned the cleric, but it was too late, and the damage was too severe. All the cleric had been able to do was tell her it was orcs who had killed him.
On that day her life had ended. She became a shell of the woman she used to be. She went through the motions of living, but her heart wasn't in it. She was biding her time until she too could die and join Liam, wherever he was. Right after his murder, her mother had come to stay with her for a few months. If she hadn't, Anara probably would have taken her life then. But her mother's ministrations left her without the courage to do that now.
Tears welled up in her eyes and fell silently to the ground. Then, before she could stop herself, she was heaving and sobbing and pummeling the rock she was sitting on. She didn't know how long she spent crying, but after some time she found herself becoming calm. Her hands were bruised and bloody from pounding the rock. The horse was staring at her with a sad look on its face.
The terrible grief that consumed her had lessened a little with her outburst. It was time to be going back home. The horse patiently stood there while she mounted her, and they set off down the trail towards the farm. She had just rounded a bend when she heard a loud pop and smelled ozone in the air. A terrible scream tore through the stillness of the forest, followed by a loud thump. Sitting in the saddle, her horse momentarily stopped, she wondered if she should go see what that was. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she rode towards the place the sounds had come from.
Around another bend in the path she saw it – some kind of creature, the likes of which she had never seen before. It was bruised, bloody and wearing rags of some sort. The pants looked intact, but the shirt was slashed to ribbons. Violet shied away from the creature in the path, but Anara urged her closer. It looked human, and yet... She got down off the horse and led Violet towards it. It was tall – about 6 and a half feet. There were two small horns curving from its brow backward and a sinuous tail. But other than that, it looked human, and it was a male.
Anara's heart was thudding in her chest. She had no idea what type of being this was, or how it had arrived here. She looked around, expecting to see someone or something else with it. But it appeared to be alone. She moved a little closer, trying to determine if it was still alive. Its, no his, chest was moving. So he was still alive. His back was covered with whip marks and slashes that looked like claws drawn across the skin. There was a large gash across his forehead. Anara screwed up her courage and said, "Hello?" No response.
Still holding the horse's reins, she felt for a pulse on the creature's neck. It was there, but very faint. Her touch caused him to flinch. Not only was he tall, he was physically large, all of it muscle. He probably weighed 250 pounds. She didn't know what to do. This creature obviously needed some help, but she couldn't lift him or drag him back to her farm. She clutched her arm to her chest, thinking. There was a travois back in the barn for hauling game from the traps Liam used to set. She could take Violet back to the farm, get the travois, then come back and try and lift this creature onto the travois. "Anara, what are you thinking?" she said aloud to herself. "For all you know this creature is some kind of demon who will only rend me limb from limb when he awakes. Still, he is helpless right now and I can't just leave him here!"
Her mind made up, she vaulted onto Violet and pushed her into a gallop down the narrow path. In just 20 minutes, she was back at the farm, searching through the barn for the travois. She found it piled up in the corner with some other trapping equipment. She pulled it out and hooked it up to the horse. "I promise you, Violet, after this I'll bring you some apples to eat." She got back on the horse and bade her run back to the area where the strange man-creature was.
When she got back to the spot, he was still there, lying in the same position. She set the travois up next to him and began to try to roll him over onto it. As she grabbed his chest, one of his hands shot out and grabbed her arm. Her heart began thudding again, and she looked into his face. His eyes were open and full of fear. She whispered, "It's all right, I'm just trying to help. You'll be all right. Let me roll you onto this travois." He seemed to understand her, for he tried to help her get him onto the travois. Anara had to throw all her muscle and weight into pushing and pulling him onto it, even with his help. The effort of moving himself caused him to pass out.
Sweat trickled down her brow and her breath came in heavy gasps. Moving him had been difficult, but it was done. Her back would probably hurt tomorrow with the unaccustomed strain. Violet pulled the travois back down the trail while Anara followed behind, making sure the litter didn't hit any rocks or stumps along the way.
This man needed healing of a sort she couldn't provide. He needed a cleric, and desperately. The wounds on his back looked like they might be dangerously deep. When she had touched him earlier, his skin had been hot and now he moaned and cried out feverishly. But by the time she got back home, it would be too late to go into the village and bring the cleric out to her farm.
The cleric. She really ought to call him by his name – Dayfid. Dayfid had once been a suitor of hers, before she had met Liam. Her parents had desperately wanted her to marry him. They had been disappointed when she chose Liam instead. She and Dayfid were still on friendly terms, for which she was glad. But she hadn't spent much time in the village at all since Liam's death. She had taken to referring to everyone there by what they did – the butcher, the cleric, the mayor. It was easier to think of dying if she distanced herself from the people she knew. He had understood her need to be alone. He would help her now.
Anara got back to her farm half an hour after the sun went down. How was she going to get this man-creature into her house? "Better if we both spend the night in the barn. That way I won't have to move him as much and there would be plenty of room for both of us to sleep," she said to herself. She dismounted and led Violet into the barn. The travois unhooked easily from the horse and she drug it into one of the stalls. It wasn't easy to drag it with the large man-creature on it, but she managed. She got Violet into her stall and went back to the house for the apples she had promised the horse and some other supplies that the injured creature would need.
The animals were restless. The new creature in the barn smelled of something new, and to them new was never good. Anara checked on him. He was still unconscious and lying on his stomach. She poured some water into a drinking skin and held it up to his mouth. She trickled the water into his mouth, then stroked his throat to make him swallow. She sat there for a minute, looking at him.
He was very pale – whether normally or due to blood loss she didn't know. His hair was a blood red color and he had a long, aquiline nose and a narrow face. He was very muscular and broad of chest. Some of the wounds on his back were still weeping. His shirt was all but gone, so she removed what was left. She ripped a piece of the sheet she had brought back with her and dipped it into the water. Then she cleaned his wounds. Once they were clean, she put some of the salve on the worst ones, and lay clean strips of sheet over the top of them.
Blankets. They would need blankets if they were going to spend the night in the barn. She made another trip back to the house for them. It was still summer, so it wouldn't get too cold. But that man-creature could be in shock, and she'd need to keep him warm. She grabbed a bottle of booze too, and some more apples, jerky and a loaf of bread. She felt a little hungry herself.
Life on a farm was unforgiving. No matter what else was going on, the animals still needed to be tended to. In this case, the cow really needed to be milked. The task was familiar and relaxing, and it gave her some time to think. Why had she really brought this man here to her barn? Her old friends in town would think she was crazy for dragging some unknown creature into her life. But she couldn't have left him there to die in the forest. It wouldn't have been right.
Every now and then the man moaned. His fever dreams didn't seem to be any kinder to him than whatever it was that gave him the wounds on his back. Speaking of which, they had stopped seeping blood at least, and were scabbing over. That was good. She sat on the hay and placed the food she'd brought with her on the stool. She ate an apple, some jerky, and a hunk of bread and washed it down with a bottle of the milk from the cow. She looked down at this man in her barn. What was she doing? Taking care of a stray? What if he woke up in a violent mood and killed her, for no reason other than she was there? "Well, if that happens," she thought to herself, "I'll get my wish. It would serve me right for picking up some stranger in the woods. But I really am too young to die.
Whoa. Where did that thought come from?"
She sat there, in silence, for quite a while, alone with her thoughts. Her life had changed drastically since that day a year ago. For six blissful months she had been married to Liam, the man of her dreams. There had been talk of having children and maybe even someday leaving Ornilea and seeking their fortune elsewhere. There hadn't been enough time. Six months wasn't enough time to spend with him. As she thought of that lost hope, she began to cry. Once she started, she couldn't stop. The tears came and her body was wracked with sobs. When she thought she couldn't possibly cry anymore, she shook with silent sobs bereft of tears. From somewhere, the cat that lived in the barn crept under the stall and came and sat in her lap. She sat there, silently sobbing and stroking the cat.
After a while, she was exhausted with crying, and thirsty. Her face felt hot and puffy. Pushing the cat off her lap she got up to stretch her legs. The blankets she'd carried in from the house were laid over a crate. She draped one over the man, and as she did she felt his forehead. He was burning up. She dribbled some more water into his mouth. Then she took a long drink herself.
Anara spied the bottle of booze she had brought out here to disinfect the wounds of the man-creature. The curve of the bottle beckoned to her, mesmerizing her with its shape and the knowledge of the oblivion it would bring. She didn't have to live with the grief – she could drink herself into a stupor and not feel anything. She reached for the bottle, touching the top with her fingertips. Then she yanked her hand back. If she drank, tonight, she not only endangered her life but the life of the man-creature beside her. If she drank tonight, she would forget her grief, but she would also forget Liam, forget her hopes, and forget herself. It was time for her to stop hiding behind the booze, and start living again.
She scooted lower against the wall. All of a sudden she was very tired. She looked over at the man-creature. His breathing was still labored, but she was so tired. She figured that if something changed, she'd notice, and lay down on the hay and went to sleep.
OOO
A few hours later, Anara was awakened by the absence of the man-creature's raspy breathing. She crawled over to where he was and looked at him again. Part of her was terrified that he might have died in the span of time that she slept. Part of her hoped it was true. His chest still rose and fell, but his breathing was no longer labored. Her hand went to his forehead. It was still hot, but he seemed to have slipped from unconsciousness to sleep. She grabbed the water skin and dribbled some more water into his mouth. This time he swallowed on his own.
Pulling the blankets over her, she lay back down and slept again. The barn cat crept back into the stall and lay next to her, keeping her back warm.
