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Dearest Readers, may all your endeavors bear fruit and tree. :)
THE HIDDEN SWORD: A TALE OF BALDUR'S GATE
Book One: From the Earth | Chapter 14: First Fruit
Weeks ago, if someone had asked her what she thought she would be doing today, she would have answered washing kettles and dishes at the kitchens, refilling inkpots for the Seekers whose job it was to refill the inkpots for the Avowed scribes at the scriptorium, scrubbing the moss off stone stairwells, sweeping the stables, a host of other errands, or her favorite chore – helping Brother Karan chop up herbs at his apothecary followed with the task of "cleaning" up the jar of sweets at his desk.
Not running around alone in the forest, a borrowed sword at her side, tracking slavers.
Irse halted and briefly considered something. What if they attack her by surprise? Could she draw as quickly as Okami would?
She wrinkled her nose. Of course not. What is one night and imagination against years of practice and actual combat?
Were she to ask him how he could do so perfectly each time, he would most likely recite another Kozakuran proverb about doing something a thousand and thousand times until it is as natural as the falling of rain upon the earth, as natural as the sprouting of the blade of grass, as natural as the gusting of the wind, as natural as the breathing of an infant.
Or as natural as running to the loo when you've chomped down on a week-old moldy loaf without checking first but ignoring the musty taste of wet dirt because you were too hungry to care.
Irse snickered, then cleared her throat. Focus!
The decision was clear then. Best to take it out now and be ready. Thumb flicked at the guard to release the hilt. The elf drew the blade, admiring the way the sunlight glinted at the razor edge. Hefting the sword in one hand to get a feel of its weight again, then swinging at a few directions. Clumsily.
Though they use both hands with the bokken during practice, in that one encounter with the slaver guards, the girl remembered her Teacher seamlessly switching to wielding his katana with both hands or single-handed, perhaps depending on the opportunity.
As she practiced a few more swipes, she gathered that the sword required more strength to carry in one hand, but the weight certainly added to the momentum. No wonder – despite the fine blade, the one-handed swing of the battojutsu carried the force of a heavier object.
The elf nodded to herself, deciding instead to wield the sword as she would her bokken, then continued her trek.
"Sorry about this, Mister Tree. Next year you'll grow a new bark anyway," Irse apologized as she slashed an "x" at the trunk. She followed a roughly straight path, marking each tree with the blade, trusting Nells to point Okami to her general direction and for him to find her marks.
Just in case.
Soon the girl came upon a small clearing. Keen elven eyes spotted a line of pink amongst the greens and browns of the forest floor. She peered down to examine it – a woven string, perhaps a hair ribbon from one of the girls? If so, then she was on the right path.
The elf rose to her feet and absently scratched the back of her ear, pondering the wisdom of staying on their track or returning to the others.
Too late did she turn her head at the sound of footfalls rushing from behind. Left shoulder exploded with pain from a swift and heavy punch. Startled she dropped the sword, feeling a boot at her back and pitching forward.
As she fell, left hand stretched out to break her fall, but it crumpled against the soft earth as pain flared up once more. The elf ran her other hand against the hurting shoulder, sensing at where she felt the hit.
It came back with blood. Not a punch, but a shallow stab at the back!
She stared dumbly at the bright red stain on her fingertips, not noticing the assailant already standing by her side. A hand grabbed at the girl's hair, forcing her face to the ground. Despite the fear and panic, keen elven ears registered the sound of the attacker's breathing.
Thin and high-pitched like her own after an exertion. It sounded like a woman. Shar-Teel!
"Captain! Please! I don't want to fight you!" the elf begged.
She was answered with harsh feminine laughter.
"Darling girl, I'm not your captain."
The hand at her head let go but was replaced with a quick boot to her ribs. The girl cried in pain but rolled away then half-crawled, half-dragged her knees to put distance between them. Finally she got to her feet and threw herself at the nearest tree, turning around to lean against the trunk.
Luckily for her, Safana didn't seem in a rush to follow. Though she had not really gotten far. The Calishite strolled towards her, unhurried, predative smile on her face.
Through the dull ache, her mind snapped in alarm. She had dropped her sword. His sword.
Perhaps a mad dash for the katana was possible but now Safana stood between them, putting the blade beyond her sight. The Calishite leaned forward, hands behind her back like a curious observer.
"You're here, and still alive. Either you're a coward and left your friends to die at the hands of my men, or you've somehow taken care of them. I'm not surprised the blacksmith's sword would be good for something."
"Your lackeys... Teacher already cut them down. I've seen weeds put up more fight against a grass-cutter."
"And yet the rest of you aren't here. It can only mean one thing – he finally used that wand for something other than putting a slave to sleep."
Irse bit her lip. Safana seemed to have read the girl's mind and laughed. She drew out her hand and waved teasingly at the elf.
"Looking for this?" The katana was now in Safana's hand. She eyed the length of the blade.
"So you got it out of his sheathe. I think I'm jealous!"
"You can too, that is… if he liked you at all to teach you how, which he'd never, you evil hag!" Irse taunted, chuckling in spite of the pain.
The Calishite's face contorted with contempt. Irse had seen that look before, directed at her. Briefly, the young elf wondered why taking jabs at the woman's vanity, intended and otherwise, always worked too well.
Mockingly, she chanted "hag" at Safana, strangely emboldened at seeing the woman's hand rising and curling into a fist.
Good. Get her riled up, distracted enough to waste time and slap her around. Hopefully not strong enough to knock off a tooth or two.
But pain radiated once more from her left shoulder blade, causing her to wince and force her eyes shut tight for a moment.
As she did, something jabbed at her. First a pinprick, then growing as it pushed further in, the puncture expanding downwards as more of it tore through skin.
Safana had run her through with the katana, grabbing at the elf's shoulder to force it deeper.
Stunned, Irse dropped to her knees and looked down. The sword's hilt was now sticking out of her abdomen, a red patch slowly blooming at the spot where it went through.
Where's the rest of it? Unthinkingly, the girl reached for her back and gasped as she felt the greater length of steel that had come through.
Then the sensations set in – raw at where the skin had been pierced, numbness and pressure at where she knew the blade rested inside.
Safana pouted as she clasped her hands in feigned remorse. "Oh, my! That must hurt! See what you made me do?"
Instinctively her hands went up to take hold of the grip but stopped as the Calishite playfully wagged a finger and tutted at her.
"I wouldn't if I were you. Take it out and you bleed to death quickly. As much as I hate you, dear, I need you alive."
"To sell me too? Sorry, damaged goods now," Irse jeered in between wheezes, trembling hand flicking at the scarred left ear.
Safana smiled and crouched in front of her, running a hand through Irse's hair.
"Oh, you think this is bad? I could have asked my pets to take care of you for me, but I prefer the satisfaction of dealing with a pest myself. And besides, brutes such as them tend to leave a battered, unsightly mess in their wake. Such lack of finesse. I prefer that your blood is spilled as little as possible and your bones and at least some of your organs intact. Especially everything inside your skull and ribcage."
"What?" the girl sputtered, confused.
The woman curled her hand into a fist, pulling at the girl's hair. Irse flinched but kept her jaw set, intent on not giving the other the satisfaction of seeing her suffer.
"Oh, you don't know? Sweet summer child of your people. Elves! Blessed with eternal youth and a life of centuries! Oh, what we wouldn't do and who we wouldn't kill to have a taste of that!" Safana whispered as she eyed the young elf appraisingly.
Dark eyes glinted with greed.
"More than your price as a slave is your price as a walking bag of components. The gold that necromancers would pay for your heart alone are enough to commission a regenerative tonic made from your blood and skin. Rare ingredients - for there are not many of your age found beyond your hidden homelands, but effective, so I've heard. Not only will you make me profitable, but you will keep me youthful just like your kind for a long, long time."
She would be killed only for that. The shock silenced her for a moment as she stared with disgust at the woman, hoping this was some absurd joke on par with the old wives' tales of bridge trolls stealing and stuffing misbehaving children into sacks and using their blood to harden the wooden posts.
But Safana's eyes were already glazing with anticipation, no doubt counting the gold and the years of reclaimed youth. Not a bluff, then.
With growing panic her mind wondered. Where are they? It's been a while. They should be up and moving by now. They must be looking for her. Her Teacher will come, and he will rescue her just as he did before.
Though of course, he would surely be disappointed that she had broken her word and taken his sword.
Irse flinched. And it's going to hurt like the nine hells when he pulls it out of her.
But still, a surge of hope. They would come for her, the elf desperately clung to the thought. But she must buy them time if they were to have any chance of saving the girls.
The elf snorted and grinned defiantly at her captor, summoning breath and strength for one more taunt. "Why? Lacing up your corset and a barrel of face lard aren't doing it for you anymore?"
The Calishite's face paled with rage. Safana yanked at Irse's hair and shoved her away. She got up and walked a few steps to where she had dropped her dagger when she had impaled the girl with the sword.
"Insult me as much as you want, as your pathetic captain can only do, but I still come on top. Despite everything, you made this into a fruitful venture for me. As my show of thanks, I'll do as I said and let you live for a while."
"Generous, but I won't ask for much. Just long enough to see you rot in jail."
"Don't get your hopes up. Your hours starts winding down the moment they surrender in exchange for your life. With such terms, I'm quite sure your master won't refuse me this time," Safana said with confidence.
Hope gave way to despair. Irse felt her heart sinking into a dark pit, unable to deny for she knew it was true and knowing what would come next.
"Don't worry, I'm very forgiving. The traitorous crew won't lose their lives, only use the rest of it in my service, but under a geas just like their captain. Fail me again, and they will join the girls at the auction block."
Despair gave way to anger. She rose and both hands grabbed at the hilt and yanked, the effort slowed only by the agony of insides rending anew.
Disturbed and horrified at the elf's attempt, the Calishite berated her, "You are mad! A mad dog! Even if you could, you'll die before you take even one step."
Irse froze, hands falling limp to her sides, breathing ragged, tasting the iron tang of blood now staining her teeth.
Safana was right; she would only kill herself for nothing. All she must do is wait for them. For him. They'll think of something. And then everything will be all right.
Any minute now.
"Smart girl. After all, since your failure will cost your friends their freedom, the least you could do is to live to apologize to them." Safana exulted, a smile of triumph on her lips. "And to say goodbye to your master."
At the mention of her Teacher, eyes already fading from pain and weakness suddenly widened at an inner vision of him.
"As you watch helpless while around the neck beneath his beautiful face, I put the iron collar of a slave. My slave."
Him, a slave. Because of her. Because she failed.
Anger surged into fury. Irse's hand flew to the hilt as she drove herself forward.
And from her body, drew the sword in battojutsu.
The elf glided past the Calishite, feet sliding to a stop.
A moment of stillness, and the silence was broken by Safana's final breath, a whispered croak from a severed throat, and a heavy thump as deadweight fell to the ground.
Irse lowered the blade and looked down at the void from where it had been drawn.
And then she sank to her knees and slumped forward upon the soft grass, watching with unblinking eyes as blood slowly watered the earth beneath her hand.