7 - Fire & Ice
She was bending over the small basket she had brought into the room. I heard her humming an unfamiliar tune as she sorted through laundry in the basket before she proceeded to open drawers in a large wooden dressing table. I continued watching her as she placed some of the clothing inside. She swayed her hips to the tune she still carried as she busied herself with her chores. I was acutely aware of my heart beating a little faster. The sight of her body stirred me. I heard a voice, a man's voice; my voice? "I like how there is more of you now." I felt mirth rumbling in my chest.
The woman slowly turned to face me. Distantly, I heard myself gasp. It was the wet-eyed woman! But, this time her eyes were dry, yet sparkling. She narrowed them; it seemed to be in jest. The corners of her mouth twitched. She was beautiful.
My eyes moved down her body and I saw her swollen belly. The sight filled me with joy, the reason why still a little murky in my thoughts, yet pleasing to my soul. Then something white and soft hit me. I looked up, and the woman was trying hard not to give way to her smile. She had just pummeled me with a pillow. "Are you trying to tell me that my butt's big?" she asked, feigning offence.
I could feel myself starting to laugh. It was a wonderful sensation. I felt uplifted, euphoric – human! "I am just saying it suits you and there is ... well, more for me to hold on to..." She hit me again, but this time her face was smiling as she did so. I bent down and picked up a pillow of my own and hit her back, not too hard. Her condition registered as miraculous and very precious to us. Us? The image rippled. No! Somehow, from out with the room I felt panic as I saw her image waver.
We continued to duel with the pillows and feathers started to float around us. Again I felt panic stabbing at me. Were they my feathers? No! How could they be? For one thing they were white but more importantly – I was a man – was I not?
The room shimmered again, like a reflection in a pool with ever increasing ripples.
I watched, oddly envious, as I/he pulled the woman towards me/him. It was becoming muddy. The thoughts crossing over, twisting, spinning. We fell onto the bed. She wrapped her arms around me – I could almost feel her closeness. Then she whispered something. Was it my name? Did she call me a name? It sounded like...The room started to swirl, like water vanishing in a drain. No! What did she say? Caagaw...
I cracked an eye open as the first rays of the sun shimmered in the distance. Sweet chirruping was all around me; the dawn chorus heralding the start of a new day. It took a few moments for me to realise I had been dreaming. The dream had left me feeling sad yet happy, confused, unnerved. It was fading though. But, I could clearly remember her face. Smiling, no tears.
Aches in my body prevented me from dwelling further on my dream. In truth, I could not understand it. I shuffled slightly on my perch, then flexed my wings, eradicating the stiffness in my muscles from staying in the one position all night. As I did so, I glanced in the bedroom window. I swear I nearly fell from my perch at the sight which met my eyes. Three bodies lay tangled on Vernon's bed, one being the man himself, his arms round a woman to either side of him. They lay, heads resting on his chest, smiles curling their lips. Movement to the right caught my attention and then I saw Amy, emerging from the washroom. Naked!
Perhaps that solved my dream, I thought. I must have either heard or seen the lovers enter the room last night. Maybe I witnessed more before sleep claimed me, but I could not recall. It would indeed elucidate why a raven would dream of being a man and with a woman in his arms, after all. Although no-one had bore witness to my dream, I could not help but feel both foolish and oddly disappointed that it had been a mind-trick and nothing more.
By all accounts, it seemed Vernon had astounding stamina. I decided to leave the fishing supplier with his little harem and I took to the skies once more.
I headed north west, up through the mountains and over into Burning Steppes. The land was harsh, arid, sulphur billowing from the lava streams which bubbled and threaded through the realm.
From the north eastern Dreadmaul Rock, and the northern Flame Crest down to the southern parts of the region, small pockets of liquid fire provided homes to vicious grells. They were imps; bright orange and red with long spindly limbs, pointed ears and rows of sharp razor-like teeth. If they didn't bite or scratch you, worse still they blasted you with fireballs having absorbed the power of the elements from the lava streams themselves. One avoided these little demons at all costs.
Further along, giant kodos, powerful, reptilian horned creatures used as mounts or beasts of burden to pull heavy wagons, stood close together near an orc settlement. They grunted and snorted as a young orc neared to steer them together, readying them for whatever work lay ahead. One kodo, its toughened, mottled grey hide rippled, as it turned on the young orc who was trying to slip reins and a harness over the beast's muzzle.
Nearby onlookers came to the young orc's rescue, beating back the aggressive kodo with large prodding sticks. The boy, it seemed, had escaped serious injury, but was nonetheless shaken. He was ordered by one of the others to go to the nearby hut while they saw to the beasts. The boy looked ashamed in his failure to carry out the task. He slunk into the hut, dejected.
Moving on, I saw many more orcs, a number of which seemed to guard young dragonkin whelps. The young creatures were chained, panicked, screeching for their freedom. What horrors lay in store for them I knew not, but there was obviously a lucrative trade to be had from the sale of these little dragons. Their shimmering scales of red, azure, gold and emerald along with their youth made them easy targets for the greedy orcs.
I empathised completely with the dragonkin, knowing only too well the feeling of hopelessness, trapped within an environment you could not see deliverance from. Yet, I had been fortuitous in recent days and perhaps the same good fortune would befall these youngsters. I certainly hoped so.
As I glided to my left, the imposing presence of Blackrock Mountain served as a focal point to the land. I knew this place, I knew its history. How, mattered not to me, I just reveled in the fact that it was all familiar.
The landmark, with its rabbit-run of tunnels, mines, chambers and halls, lured me towards its enormous iron doors. These gargantuan welded, bolted slabs of iron were manufactured by the Dark Iron dwarves many, many years ago, following civil war and conflicts known as the War of Three Hammers. They had been beaten back by two other dwarven clans, the Wildhammer and the Bronzebeard, who had allied with each other to force the Dark Iron to return to the depths of Blackrock. This was their fortress, although they had become enslaved to a mighty elemental which resided within its depths.
Blackrock was a dormant volcano and I resisted the temptation to enter. Partly because I felt a need to continue north and knew somehow my curiosity would drive me deep into the bowels of the mountain. I had a hunger for knowledge, which, on reflection was very peculiar for a raven, but I accepted the fact that was how I was. A nosy bird. But, the pull of the mountain failed to make me venture in.
I had, however, a sudden need to rest upon a ledge above the doorway. For some inexplicable reason, I had been flooded with visions of the wet-eyed woman again. Each time I thought of her, my heart contracted, this time to the point I could not maintain my flight path.
The images were steadily becoming clearer each time she graced my mind. Her voice even seemed to penetrate some distant, deep part of me which I could not identify. It remained out with my reach, my understanding, my logic.
Even stranger still, I looked forward to these interludes from my reality. It is incredibly frustrating and a little unsettling however, when an absolute certainty, likened to a cincture, encompasses you in your entirety, but you cannot ascribe to its ambiguity. I was left strangely aching; yearning to see her face, her eyes, her lips. I shook myself. This was ridiculous. I had somewhere to be; though where exactly, I wasn't quite sure. With a vigorous preening, I soon felt ready to continue my journey.
I flew round the eastern face of the mountain, passing through the black smoke which rose from the lava river at its base. My focus cleared and the grey daylight from Searing Gorge, greeted me. Similar to Burning Steppes, the land was dry, parched, but still host to some ferocious creatures which one simply did not wish to aggravate.
Large fiery crimson lizards with magenta coloured webbed spines, stretching from their napes to their tails, lumbered across the dry, cracked soil at the base of a large dwarven settlement that rose high above the reptiles' path. These lizards were incendosaurs of the genus diemetradon, great powerful creatures which could give you a very, very nasty bite. They were sought after for their scales and fire-gizzards which the Thorium dwarves – a friendly off-shoot from the Dark Iron - made into useful items for armour and weapons.
A flurry of activity to my left caught my eye. Although I did not want to see anyone hurt I couldn't help but feel some amusement as I witnessed a young hunter and warlock attempt to bring one of the reptiles down. Normally slow and sluggish, incendosaurs could equally move at an alarming speed and without warning. These short bursts of speed had the two attackers turning and dashing for the highest land area they could reach before the reptile snapped and hissed at their ankles. At one point however, the encounter was too close for comfort and I had an overwhelming need to intervene.
I swooped down, hurtling towards the incendosaur as it lunged at the inexperienced youngsters. I screeched. The hunter and warlock looked towards me, utter disbelief on their faces as I drew closer.
The reptile turned its yellow eyes on me, its mouth opening in a threatening hiss. I omitted another loud screech and just as had happened with Effcee, a bolt of azure left my beak and impacted on the creature's flank. It roared as I jettisoned yet another bolt. I was exhilarated by this inexplicable force, and I must admit, I was rather enjoying myself.
The beast roared again, this time its scales turned from their natural crimson, through to a piercing azure blue tinged in white. My bolts were ice! I circled above as it retreated from the small rocky foothold the two youths were perched upon. The reptilian head turned, trying to see where I was.
Once more I screeched and three smaller bolts fired from my gullet, one hitting the ground just in front of the creature and the other two hit it again on the left flank. This time I watched as the azure blue spread over its entire side, slowing its movements, eventually rendering it motionless. I glided down and took a spot just above where the hunter and warlock still stared in awe at the incendosaur as it slumped at the base of the rock. Their eyes turned slowly up towards me.
"Kill it!" I heard the warlock whisper.
"What? But, it ... it helped us."
The warlock sighed heavily. "Not the bird! The incendosaur!"
"Oh!" the hunter nodded, then nocked an arrow to his bow. I watched as he pulled the string back, taking time to ensure the missile would hit an effective spot on the frozen reptile. His pulling arm started to tremble. I could hear the creak of the bow's limbs as he pulled it taut.
"For crying out loud, just shoot it!" the warlock said, exasperated.
The hunter took exception to the spell-weaver's tone and momentarily lowered his bow, turning to face his companion.
"I suppose you can do better?"
"Oh get on with it, Theldran! You're the one wanting the guts to make a new bowstring."
The hunter huffed and raised his weapon again. Just as he was about to release his arrow the beast lurched forward. Both warlock and hunter screamed and the arrow clattered down the boulder, useless.
Without a second thought I fired at the beast once more. The frostbolt this time, took its toll and the reptile ceased moving altogether. Once more I was rather impressed by my skill and not at all did I stop to think it was a very un-raven like ability. I shook out my feathers as the two boys turned their huge eyes towards me again. I flinched as they screamed once more.
Too late, I saw the enormous shadow fall over me as a large fleshy hand encircled my body. I was duly plucked from my perch and found myself staring up into a huge rounded face. Beady eyes which seemed ridiculously out of proportion for such a big head looked at me, with a mixture of annoyance and sadness. From its mouth protruded two small tusks, and big rubbery lips quivered around them. It was an ogre.
"No kill!" it said in a monotone, husky voice. "Why you kill things?"
I managed a sideways look at the two companions on the boulder below me. They didn't seem scared now. They were actually smiling. The hunter shouted up to the ogre. "Don't hurt him. he's going to be my new pet."
Pet? I sincerely hoped he was not referring to me. I wriggled in my captor's hand and dibbed at the fleshy fingers. His face scrunched up making his eyes almost disappear completely. Although he loosened his grip, he did not let me go. We both then looked at the warlock who had started laughing helplessly.
"Pet?" he wheezed mockingly. "A raven?" He chuckled madly, nearly losing his balance from the boulder. I was not for being anyone's pet, but neither was I prepared to be considered of inadequate ability to be one. I coughed out a frost bolt which hit the rock just in front of the warlock. He stumbled and fell on his behind in the dry dirt below. I cawed my satisfaction but that soon turned into a nervous squawk as the ogre's fingers tightened slightly and he shook me. "No hurt boy!" It bellowed at me.
"Please! Don't hurt him neither, he is just frightened. If you picked me up I'd be frightened." The hunter was quick to my defence.
The ogre then hung his head and again loosened his grip on me. I wriggled free and flew down to the hunter. The boy smiled broadly as I landed on his out-stretched arm. "See?" he said glancing up at the ogre. "He is not a bad bird. He saved Jarieth and me from the incendosaur."
The ogre's brow crinkled, as if unsure how to take this revelation.
The warlock started laughing again as he picked himself up and dusted down his robes. "He's telling the truth, Lunk," he said to the ogre. "Granted though, that bird is very different from others of its kind."