A Grimmwood Story – Evil Roots
By Arrua Bardin
Chapter 1: Hope
In the deep woods of Grimmwood, a fabled and allegedly cursed forest, lied the duchy of Grübhagen; a dukedom consisting of several villages, and at its center, the great town of Grübe. One of these villages, aptly nick-named Ghostly Hamlet, had seen its fair share of struggle since the village was founded. Bandits, wolves and even the duke's own soldiers had seen fit to plunder it of its riches (Darkwood was one of the most valuable commodities in the land) and townspeople throughout the years. Therefore, it might not surprise you to hear that the walls were ravaged, gates were battered and the few houses seemingly standing looked as if a single whistle was enough to make them collapse. It was mid-day, yet already dark, as the fog surrounding the village, and the rain and wind besieging it, made sure no light could enter.
A hooded figure walked in through the town's gates. Through mud, wind, and rain it forced its way to the inn. The tavernkeeper's eyes turned their gaze towards the door as it opened. A slim, but well-built body entered the room. The hood was drawn back and a woman revealed; a grim, but also rather mischievous look rested on her face. Her hair was long and chestnut brown, matching her eyes. Her body painted with scars. Her facial traits suggested she might have been pretty once, a long time ago, before the markings of her trade were inflicted upon her. The tavernkeeper, sensing that wherever this person walked trouble would soon follow, rested his left hand on the flintlock pistol he had hidden underneath the bar counter.
"Who goes there?" he said.
The woman, without saying a word, walked over to the counter and grabbed a pint of ale, meant for another customer, and swallowed it whole before anyone could even utter the letter W in wait.
"Who goes there?" he said again, louder this time. His grip around the flintlock got firmer.
The woman's eyes shifted focus, looking him straight in the eye.
"Your only goddamn hope," she answered, before rushing out of the tavern again. The tavernkeeper was about to ask her to stop and pay for the drink but decided against it when he saw a heavy armament of weaponry flashing underneath her cape as she turned around, cape whipping the air. A small and muddy young girl, who sat alone a minute ago, sipping on a glass of goat milk, ran after the woman, barely fitting into the gap of a closing door.
"What do you mean by hope?" she asked the woman, who stopped, revealing nothing but her back to the girl.
"You settled this forest, ignorant of the dangers that come with it." The girl looked at her with puzzled eyes, "Monsters, sweetie. Monsters are comin'. And they won't even spare a pretty lass like yerself. Trust me. I know." Her legs started moving but were brought to a standstill yet again when the girl yelled after her, lips shaking, voice trembling.
"I know too! I remember grey things swarming our house, killing my mom first; grabbing her hair and piercing her back with a sharpened stick. I remember my dad telling me to run to the village, and my brother fighting for his life. And I remember the screams as I ran away… and I remember the silence that soon followed. And when I came here… no one believed me." The woman turned around. If she was still able to, she might have cried, but those rivers dried up years ago. She examined the girl. She was small and scrawny, like most peasants at her age, which seemed to be around sixteen. Weak in the flesh, and yet, her eyes exposed a fiery soul – yearning for battle. She remembered back when she was at her age. The young girl reminded her of herself. Only dirtier, the woman thought, seeing as she, herself, used to be a noble and heir to a duchy. The woman closed her eyes, recalling when she was but a young girl and dwarves and eviler things attacked her castle, killed the duke - her father, and burned the whole city to the ground. She walked over to the girl, went down on one knee, ignoring the mud soaking through her clothes, and took the young girl's hand.
"What's yer name?" she asked softly.
"Dara"
"Well Dara, I... I too lost everythin'. And although the pain is unbearable... losing everythin' means there is nothing left to lose. There's nothin' they can take from us. Nothin' we can fear for. No more pain they can inflict" She stood up and extended her hand. "When ya got nothin', ya fight for everythin'. No fear, no pain." Dara accepted her hand, looking up at the lady with big eyes.
"No fear, no pain," Dara repeated. They looked at each other without saying a word. The young girl's face brightened, and a shadow of a smile formed on the woman's face.
"M'name is Arrua," she informed her new admirer. Remembering the purpose of the visit, she asked the girl, "How long has it been since your family was attacked?"
"Only four days ago, though it feels like a month…" Arrua's face soured. She knew they were coming, but had no idea they were this close.
"Then we don't have much time," she said and started briskly walking.
"Where are we going?" Dara asked as they moved along a row of grey-brown worn down cottages. Arrua, going as fast-paced as walking allows, forced Dara to do small skips from time to time to keep up.
"Meeting an old friend." She replied and turned to the left, towards the last cottage in the row. She jumped up the three creaking wooden steps leading up to the door and knocked. A few seconds later she heard heavy footsteps coming closer and closer. The door opened and a huge man almost two meters tall stood at the entrance; his dark beard covering half his face and a big chunk of his torso, yet not big enough to hide the large grin on his face.
"Arrua! No face would make me happier!" he shouted as he, with the dexterity of a cat chasing a mouse, leapt forward to give his old friend a hug. A hug she, whether she wanted to or not, couldn't refuse, or dodge for that matter.
"Hey, Sokh." she managed to utter through the choking embrace. As he let her go, he noticed her companion and whatever joy he possessed was quickly washed away by guilt.
"Oh Dara, you poor creature. I heard what happened to your family. Your father, I… I considered him a close friend." He stepped back into the house. "Please come in." Dara and Arrua entered. Sokh, because of his size, had to lean against the wall for the two women to get through. Once they were both in the living room, the only room except for the hallway, he shut the door to the wind and the rain's bitter disappointment. "Someone should really take care of those bandits. Caravans being raided, travelers butchered, and now, not even your own home is safe." he continued, following them into the living room. The interior of the house looked barely more impressive than the exterior. The unpainted wooden walls had begun to rot, and holes were as consistent as on a swiss cheese. The furniture was all cramped up in the tiny room; bed, chest, dresser, stool, and table. It was a wonder, Arrua thought, a huge man like Sokh could even fit. "I told him he would be safer in the village… the stubborn goat." He looked at Dara, and then as if lightning struck his face, "Nay, may God forgive me! I shouldn't speak ill of the dead."
"No, it's alright." Dara assured him as she sat down on the stool, "He was stubborn." A silence fell over the room. A silence only one would dare to break.
"It wasn't bandits," Arrua corrected, "It was monsters, Sokh. Monsters. It has begun… again." A huge squeaking sound echoed through the room as Sokh sat down on his bed.
"Monsters? But I thought you…"
"Well, it seems I didn't," Arrua roughly interrupted, "And now it is back." A few seconds of silence followed.
"Do you… Do you think it is as bad as Grübe?"
"Nay. Worse." Arrua held her breath. As hardened as she was, the thought that the future she fought so hard to prevent might yet again be a possibility filled even her with anxiety. "It's angry this time," she added. Dara, who had been sitting still in ignorance, finally grew the guts to ask.
"What are you talking about?" she asked, knowing very well she wouldn't like the answer.
"You've heard about the pillagin' of Grübe, right? Twenty years ago?" Dara was about to open her mouth when Arrua continued, "Of course you have. What you might not know is that monsters were behind the attack." Dara's eyes widened.
"But I thought…"
"That the current inhabiter, the Duke of Weslen, and now also Grübhagen, Hans Kört, hired an army of thugs to plunder the dukedom and kill the duke, with the intent of conquering it afterwards? If only." Arrua folded her arms and walked over to the only window in the room, trying to find something to lock her gaze on. Whether it was to distract herself from the feelings that bubbled up inside her, or if it was to hide her face from the others, she did not know. "He only picked up the scaps I'm afraid. Seized an opportunity. Then again, I guess someone had to fill the void I left behind." The last sentence took Dara by surprise.
"What?" she asked somewhat more intense than she was aiming for. Arrua, failing to find anything remotely interesting in the unremarkable view of the window, turned around and leaned on the window frame instead.
"And what about our poor, wretched knight, Sokh? Is he comin'?" Arrua asked, arms still crossed. Sokh glanced quickly at the door.
"Talesin? Uhm, well, he said so at least. It's hard to know these days, with him being locked up and all in his tavern room all day," he replied in a tone of slight contempt.
"He'll come," she assured herself, "He wouldn't have traveled all this way to hole up in some hotel room."
They waited in silence. About five minutes passed before a knock was heard at the door. "I'll go,"Arrua said, rushing towards the door before Sokh could even react. The face she saw when she opened the door was not the one she expected: A blond, long-haired woman stood on the doorsteps with a basket of fruit and wine. Her confused look made it clear she felt the same way.
"Ehm, is Sokh here? I was wondering if he might…" she asked gently before the intimidating shape in front of her hijacked the conversation.
"He is busy at the moment. Come back tomorrow," Arrua spat out before closing the door. She gave Sokh the mischievous stare she was famed for. "A woman, huh?" Sokh stared back at her, unable to decide if he should be angry or have a good laugh.
"Damn you, Arrua. Female visitation in the middle of the night... How am I supposed to explain that?"
"You don't. You bring her a handful of flowers and say that you're sorry, and then you marry the woman and let her make a good and honest man out of you. The worst kind of man in my opinion…"
"Her name is Eva. She ain't you…," he hesitated for a second, not sure whether to continue or not, "but a lovely lass nonetheless." Arrua smiled at the now uncomfortable human bear, who, unable to meet her eyes, looked down at his own feet.
"Stop it, you charmer. I'm not the one you need to impress. That honor belongs to the now angry woman walkin' away from your house, swearin' she is done with you for good." She continued to hold her stare at the feet-staring man until he finally managed to look up. "We had our fun, big guy," she concluded.
"Ay, and what fun it was," he replied longingly. But as the last syllable left his mouth, the door was forced open. Arrua, still clinging to the reflexes that had saved her on numerous occasions, drew her sword from beneath the cape and gracefully turned around, swordpoint one centimeter from the intruder's throat.
"Ah, Arrua." The intruder was interrupted by his own cough, "Friendly as always," he said mockingly, carefully shoving the blade aside with his right hand. "That pirouette of yours could really use some work though." Arrua moved the blade back to his throat.
"Talesin, you bastard, glad you could join us. We got work to do."