Awenasa hasn't felt this beaten since the day her sister died. As the burning hot spear sinks deeply, Awenasa sees stars and feels extremely light headed. She leans heavily against the mushroom and everything begins to dim as her vision is edged by blackness. Part of her thinks she's hallucinating as Perey reaches out to touch her. No one touched Shoanti without permission and he would know this. She is surprised when his touch brings healing. Her vision clears and her legs steady enough to keep her upright.
The warrior was trained to not give up but she also isn't suicidal. She knows that in her present condition she wouldn't be able to survive another round with the white lizard. With the way blood was gushing down her arm, she isn't even sure she had the strength to fight. Taking advantage of the albino reptile having bounded away, she pulled out one of the cakes the oakman had given her and shoves it in her mouth, swallowing it whole.
Awenasa grabs the mossy cake out of her pack, wincing as even this slight movement makes her side burst anew with fresh blood (and worse). Without the slightest care for decorum or taste she swallows the green block in one single gulp. Unlike the other cake, this one tastes like rich greens from the lowlands, quinoa or arugula. A wholesome, filling quality, quite at odds with the lackluster appearance. As soon as she eats it, a wave of magical energy sweeps her body, so quickly it makes her head swim. The pulse radiates outward from her stomach, flying up her limbs and into her fingers and toes in seconds.
Bones re-knit, muscles re-attach and skin smooths over, as wounds vanish. The deep, burning pain in her side subsides to a dull ache while her torn shoulder almost totally heals together. It doesn't entirely fix her injuries, but it is the difference between dying in this muddy field and fighting on.
Adsu twists his hand and the fireball leaps up the mushroom toward the lizardman like a child's toy.
The albino is quick however, and jumps out of the way of the flames without the slightest burn.
Perey, meanwhile, merely rolls on the ground, tears in his eyes. Tears of pain? Or frustration at his helplessness?
Awenasa feels almost whole, inside and out, after eating the oakman's cake. She is ready to go at least another round, if not more, with the white lizard. However, she couldn't do it from the ground while he was atop the mushroom.
Springing upwards and landing just behind him, she sticks her one leg out while crouching on the other and used her momentum to sweep her leg around to trip him and then she pushes him forward into Adsu's fire while springing back to her feet.
Awenasa jumps up onto the mushroom, sandwiching the lizardman between herself and the roaring, crackling flame. In one smooth motion, Anweasa throws herself into a graceful leg sweep, using her whole body for momentum. It is too much for the battered lizard, and his legs give out as the Shoanti knocks him back. He wavers for a moment then tumbles over, scrabbling at the soft fungus for purchase to prevent falling over the side.
Even as he falls, Adsu twists his hands, moving the incandescent ball of fire on top of the fallen albino creature. With a hungry hiss the fire engulfs the lizardman, causing him to release yet more howls of pain and suffering.
With a roar, and no other options, the lizard tries to regain his feet, even as his flesh starts to burn and char. The air is filled with the smell of roasting lizard.
Awenasa watches, times her punch and then slams her fist into the back of the struggling beast's head. There is a heavy cracking sound as the monster's skull gives way entirely. With a slow lurch, the albino falls back down into the fire, unmoving even as the hot flames consume him entirely.
Awenasa breathes heavily from her exertions as she stands over the burning remains of the white lizard. She has won but she doesn’t feel victorious. If things had gone differently it would have been her death and not his being observed.
Satisfied that her opponent isn’t going to rise from the ashes, she walks over to where Perey and Adsu are. She isn’t a healer but she can tell Perey is hurt. ”Adsu, Perey hurt. Needs help. You help?”
Once Perey’s wounds are addressed, she faces them both and offers them both a warrior salut in turn. ”Adsu, your fire good. Key to win.”
She then switches to Shoanti for Perey, ”You saved my life. I was on the verge of death from my injuries. I almost passed out. I don’t know how you did it but the moment you touched me, my vision cleared and I was able to eat the cake that the oakman gave me. If I had passed out, the white lizard would have killed me.”
Awenasa finally has the opportunity to look around. ”Is Shadow Stream safe now?”
Perey groans but manages to sit up, wet leaves sticking to him like a childhood monster. He replies in Shoanti, "Hurt but I'm ok. The lizard thing bite me, but it was more shock." He blushes and says, "I'm sorry I feel over. I....I'm sorry." The small man, obviously shaken by the whole fight, does his best to hide the bleeding cuts on his upper chest.
Adsu nods but still looks grim, "You are welcome. I was worried for a moment there. Thank the gods for the oakman, or it might have eaten us all, fire or no fire. You fight well, the stories about the Shoanti are not idle, I see."
"As for the Stream, do you think the fey will keep her word?" Adsu's reply is, oddly enough, answered from the trees.
"I think so."
An aged female woman emerges from behind a brake of dead and rotting trees. Gray hair is coiled tightly on her head, and while she moves with a slight limp, Awenasa gets the feeling the wrinkled crone is more then capable of handling herself. She carries a heavy ash staff in one hand. Adsu's eyes widen and then he bows, "Mother!"
Mother? They didn't look anything alike.
The woman smiles, "You survived Adsu, this is good! That means we only lost three." She narrows her eyes and turns to Awenasa, "And what brings a Shoanti warrior to our old home? What did this young man offer in trade for such service?"
She straightens her back, coming up close. "My name is Dehsis and I am the matron and leader of the Shadow Stream druids, or what is left of them."
Awenasa gives Perey a confused look, "You did good and you're still hurt. Why are you sorry? You should be proud. You fought against something stronger than you and you survived." She pointed at the cuts on his upper chest, "Maybe you will even bear scars from this fight as a reminder that you stood and fought instead of running away."
The warrior turns, her body on high alert, as she hears an unfamiliar voice. The woman's tone keeps Awenasa defensive and her own voice reflects this as she replies, "You say Shoanti only help if get something in return? We not mercenaries!"
"And this Shoanti passing through. Need to clear path through Shadow Stream so we did."
Maybe Dehsis was used to people fawning over her when she spoke her name but it meant nothing to Awenasa and so she just nodded as the woman introduced herself. "You now free to be leader once more. As soon as Perey no longer bleeds, we will be on our way."
"The Shoanti do not spend blood for others, not without getting something in return." The old woman nodded as Awenasa went on, "As you say. You did this so you could pass through, not for our benefit."
She shifts into broken Shoanti, "Still, good. May back straight and arms strong."
Them, shrugging, she glances toward Perey and goes on in Common, "I can heal your companion, if you wish. I have a few healing spells, we expected to have to fight the fey woman. I did not expect to find the fighting finished."
The druid touches Perey's shoulder and there is a brief glow of light green. It fades and the man's wounds are healed leaving no sign. Alas for the scars.
The old woman nods again and says, "If you bear south after leaving the Shadow Stream, you will find a small Varisian village. Tipkat. Warning though, few of the locals will look kindly on a Shoanti warrior. "
Awenasa doesn't know what to make of Dehsis. Even though she feels like she should revere the druid based on the stories her father had told her, every word she spoke felt like a needle in her brain making her angry. First she suggests Shoanti only help if they're rewarded and then she implies that Awenasa's help didn't benefit them.
The Shoanti nods ever so slightly to acknowledge Dehsis' attempt of a blessing in her own language even though it rings hollow in her ears.
Awenasa collects her meager possessions and motions for Perey to get to his feet. "I said we go when Perey stop bleeding so we go. Thanks for info about Tipkat." The Shoanti stumbles over the unfamiliar word. "Warning not needed. Few outsiders kind to Shoanti."
She turns to Adsu and offers her arm in a warrior's salut, "Well fought, Adsu. Make sure oakman and Ioklonet ok. May your spirit guide you."
Adsu gathered himself together and bowed toward Awenasa. "Thank you...for everything. I hope you find what you seek in the lowlands. Stay safe and true. I will be watching and waiting for your return, the Shadow Stream is open to you."
Dehsis gives this a skeptical look but doesn't say otherwise. Through the trees, Aweanasa can see other druids picking their way toward them. The group would have a challenge in revitalizing the cursed valley back to health but that wasn't her problem.
Awenasa accepts Adus's bow. She realizes that this is her first significant victory since her sister's death and her confidence grows ever so slightly. Not that anyone can tell at all from her stoic facade.
"I seek nothing in lowlands but path to sea. How far is Tipkat from sea? You wait for long time. I not return until find Mordant Spire and I not know where is but it west beyond west." She gives a small smile, "But good to know someone watch."
It is late afternoon when Awenasa and Perey leave the druids behind, passing down the final slopes of the Shadow Stream. The rock walls that have constantly hemmed them in suddenly vanish and they find themselves on level ground, with the lively Shadow Stream gurlign next to them.
Behind them the Stroval Plateau looms like a massive battlement, a frowning wall of brown stone that takes up half the sky. The falling sun is shining on it, glittering from veins of quartz. Only the dark scar of the stream breaks the forbidding wall.
Ahead of them lies is a rolling land of green hills and scattered trees. From their low vantage, Awenasa can see no sign of humans, no fields or houses. The soil is black and rich, and Awenasa's boots sink into the loam. The air is humid and filled with the scent of growing things, of opening flowers.
It all feels wrong to Awenasa. The greenery crowds close, making her feel claustrophobic. How could she prevent an ambush when any foe would nearly be on top of them? Was the air always this...wet It felt like she had a moist bag over her head. She missed the wild rocks and salt flats of her home already.
Perey meanwhile points, to where a barely visible brown trail crosses a hill ahead.
"I'm not sure if we can make it to town tonight. Do we camp? Do we follow the road or stay away from it?"
Awenasa was a little surprised that the druids couldn’t even give her an idea of how far the town was from the sea but she was learning that they were a strange folk. Her father may have thought of them as good luck but she wasn’t so sure.
Her surroundings darken her mood. She would have never thought that her environment would affect her so much but she had never been able to feel her surroundings before. That simply isn’t natural and it put her on edge. She hopes that she will be able to get used to how thick the air felt down here in the lowlands. As much as she missed the Plateau, there was no turning back empty handed.
Awenasa answers immediately, not having to think about Perey’s questions, ”We camp. And we stay away from the road. I’ve had enough people for today.”
Perey looks relived when Awenasa doesn't announce they will be marching through the night. Together they follow the stream down a grassy slope until they find a place where it cuts deep into a earth bank. A small overhang in the hillside will make a very nice and protected campsite.
Perey gathers firewood from a a few scraggly trees near the stream and asks, "I meant, in general. Are we avoiding roads, towns? That woman made it sound like the people who live here, might not welcome a Shoanti traveler." Perey himself would attract far less notice, with his pale skin, lack of tribal tattoos or the various scars that Awenasa carries. She'd stick out like a sore thumb among these soft, white lowlanders.
In short order they have a small fire going under the bank, with a thin stream of smoke vanishing into the darkening sky. Dusk settles in around them, as frogs and night birds come out to sing. Perey fiddles with a handful of dried rations before saying, "Do you think you'll actually do it? Get this warrior, I mean. How will you convince him?"
Awenasa immediately relaxes as she no longer has to focus on trying to speak Common. "She-Who-Upsets-The-Water didn't send us on this quest to make friends but to find Eivind. We can't find Eivind or The Mordant Spire without talking to people because we don't know where either of them are. Therefore, we can't avoid towns altogether as much as I would like to. I don't expect I'll be welcome in any town. Some towns may be outright hostile. It would be best to expect the worst so your feelings won't be hurt when we're rejected."
The warrior briefly contemplates hunting to give them something warm to eat rather than dried rations but the light was already too dim. She motions at the food Perey plays with rather than eating, "Maybe we can find something more substantial in town tomorrow. Although we don't have a lot of coin to spare."
She considers the young man's questions, "I haven't had much time to think about it. Finding Eivind of the Heavy Hand will be difficult. I'm sure more accomplished people than us have tried and failed. But I am stubborn and I can't go home until I do this so I am highly motivated. I also have to trust that the spirits will guide us. Surely the ancestors will want us to succeed to help our people."
Awenasa stares into the fire as she thinks, "As to how...I doubt I can convince him with words. Maybe I can propose a contest of some sort where if I win then he has to do what I ask. Or maybe I just tell him what is at stake and that his people are acting dishonourably." She sighs, "I honestly don't know. But it sounds like we have a long journey ahead of us so there will be a lot of time to figure it out."
She fixes her gaze on Perey, "What about you? What would you do?"
Perey shakes his head, "I...I don't know. It just seems so much...." Awenasa hears something behind his voice however, something that implies the thin man has some sort of goal or motivation besides just helping her. What could it be?
Full night comes silently and totally, making their fire a tiny orb of light in a vast black abyss. The stars come out above, although the bank and the low trees block some of their majesty. To Aweanasa's annoyance biting insects seem far more common in the lowlands, and soon her arms and neck are covered in tiny red marks.
They take turns guarding the fire, but nothing untoward happens. Dawn finds them alive and whole (except for the blood price of the mosquitos and gnats). Awenasa smothers the few hot ashes left, and they set off for Tipkat. Every time they reach a low rise or hill, Awenasa carefully checks the horizon for the sea but all she can see is green haze going off into the distance. How big were the lowlands, anyway?
Soon they start seeing the signs of human habitation. Paths cut into the woods, picked over berry bushes, small fish weirs on streams. Shortly they encounter actual fields and farms, each surrounded by low stone walls. The knee-high walls confuse Awenasa. Why build them, they would surely not keep out intruders? Animals perhaps? Or did they have something to do with the spirits?
It is shortly before noon when the pair leave a corpse of leafy trees and find themselves confronted with Tipkat (or at least, what Awenasa hopes is Tipkat). While Awenasa gets the feeling it is not a large town by lowland standards, to her it one of the largest living sites she has seen. Dozens of sturdy wooden houses line both sides of a small stream, roofs covered with dull brown tiles. The lanes are just dirt, but seem well kept and clear of garbage or waste. A large mill stands in the center of town, large paddle wheel slowly churning in the water. Next to it a round building gleams white in the sun. A temple? Many people are about, lingering on porches or in the streets.
Awenasa is drawn to another sight though. Near the town, just past the last houses, is a large cleared area free of trees or high grass. The Shoanti gets the feeling it is usually a communal pasture or something but today it is filled with wagons. The big wooden vehicles are the largest she has ever seen, dwarfing the small horse drawn carts the merchants bring up into the Plateau. Hulking animals like cows linger nearby...oxen. Impressive.
Brightly dressed men and women lounge near the wagons, under silken canopies or on rugs. It is hard to see at this distance, but a few seem to be setting in stalls. Merchant, perhaps? But they don't look like the fat, stern men Awenasa is used to. These people seem lively and active, with more then a few tumbling or wrestling with each other. Colored streamers snap in the breeze above the wagons.
Awenasa stokes the fire and looks over at Perey, studying him for a long time and trying to figure out what he was thinking. Her gaze is direct and she can see him start to squirm. Finally she says, "You're going to have to start saying more than ten words to me at a time if we're going to be traveling together. You know Shoanti culture. One has to trust the one they fight along side with. If I know nothing about you then how can I trust you? She-Who-Upsets-The-Water has forced us together but that won't be enough for the whole journey." She continues bluntly, "We don't have to like each other to trust each other."
The next day the pair didn't say much to each other as they ate their sad excuse for a breakfast. On their way to town she finally broke the silence by asking, "How far are we from the sea? I thought we should be able to see it by now." From their vantage point, everything looked the same to Awenasa, "How do people even know where they're going with all these trees blocking their view?"
Awenasa's stride slows to almost a standstill as Tipkat comes into view. Yes it is larger than anything she's seen before but it is also different from any settlement she's seen before. Everything seems so...permanent. But with the abundance of water just flowing through Tipkat, she could understand why they had built here. She is fascinated by the paddle wheel and soon realizes that she's staring at it.
She pulls her gaze away from the water and catches sight of the numerous wagons. Her attention is held by all the bright colours and she finds her feet moving in their direction. "Wagons suggest traveling and the stalls suggest they may be merchants. If we want to find out information, they're probably better to talk to."
Perey nods, "That makes sense. I think most lowlanders just stick to their villages, at least that is what my mother always said. Sounds very boring to me."
Awenasa not only finds it boring but hard to understand. Staying in one tiny place your whole life? Just one fixed home? What sort of life was that? Her tribe had certain boundaries, yes, but within that they were free. They would move for a season, for a week, for a day, sometimes just for adventure. Most Shoanti villages were little more then hide tents with bone supports. What would it be like to spend your life in a wooden house and never seen beyond the horizon?
The walk is a short one over planted fields and low stone walls. Awenasa tries to avoid crushing the plants but otherwise crosses as directly as possible, ignoring the winding paths that skirt the fields. Why would anyone take such a round-about route?
No one stops them, and soon they reach the outer area of the wagons.
The air here is thick with odd scents that Awenasa can't place. Smoked meats and strange spices linger on her tounge. The wagons are brightly painted in a strange swirling pattern that makes the warrior think of a flock of birds in flight. The towering wagons are even more impressive up close, with the huge iron-shod wheels reaching her shoulder.
To her surprise, the brightly-dressed travelers are not speaking Common but instead a different musical language. Awenasa thought all lowlanders spoke Common, isn't that why they called it that? Would she be confronted with a different dialect every day of travel?
Putting that worry aside, the travelers are unlike any lowlander Awenasa has seen. These are not the pale, beaten down peasants (or the battle-hard warriors). These people have a tan nearly to match her own, with lustrous dark hair. Most walk with straight shoulders and the steady gait of people used to covering long distances for many days. Their clothes, while fine and clean, showed the stains of constant use and travel.
Many are smoking, sending up clouds of fragrant blue smokes into the sky, while others play cards or arm wrestle. A few are setting up shops and stalls, although their are few good on display as yet.
Two men, sitting crossed legged on a yellow carpet, eye Awenasa carefully as she enters the camp. Neither rises but one mutters something to the other, who laughs.
Perey stops cold, nearly making Awenasa trip over the smaller man. He stares at the man, cocking his head. Then he breaks into a huge grin. Seeing Awenasa's puzzled look he whispers with delight, "That language! I know it, that is my mother's tounge! She taught it to me before she joined the ancestors. I never thought I'd hear it again."
Awenasa had never seen the young man look so happy.
Awenasa spends a moment appreciating the colourful mural on the wagons. Such bright colours were hard to achieve with the dyes her people used and rarely were they used to decorate structures. Usually one was trying to blend in more than stick out on the Plateau.
The Shoanti takes in the look of delight on Perey’s face without much emotion and replies without whispering, ”Good. Then you can translate what they just said and help me if they don’t understand my Common.”
Perey blushes slightly, "Are you sure?" Then, seeing Awenasa's face, nods. The two seated men continue to look at them, not threatening but not exactly friendly either. They seem to be sizing Awenasa up, like a man who excepts a herd of sheep only to be confronted with a stallion.
"He, um , he said that look like you'd quite a handful...." Perey's voice drops to a bare whisper, face beet red, "at night, in the wagon." The man is about to go on (somehow) when they are interrupted.
"Ah!" A female voice says in very broken and accented Common, "You come, get fortune, yes?" Awenasa turns to find herself confronted with a willowy woman of middle-age with raven black hair shot with white streaks. She is wearing glittering robes of midnight blue that swirl around her.
"Fortune, yes?" She waves to a wagon nearby, with a dark door leading to a dim interior. "Why come?"
Awenasa’s eyes flash in anger and her fists ball. ”I’ll show them who’s a handf...” She only takes a step towards the pair when she hears a woman’s voice and whirls to face her, thrown off by the interruption.
”Fortune?” She looks at Perey, at the woman, then back at Perey, searching for some kind of explanation. ”What fortune? You must make mistake. We not here to get money. We here for information.” It almost seems comical having the two women both with accented Common trying to communicate with each other.
The glittering woman looks surprised at both Awenasa's bad Common and her apparent mid-understanding. For a moment her eyes narrow and become calculating, as if measuring Awenasa and Perey. Then, with a total change, she smiles again knowingly.
"Ah! Shoanti." She says this last word as Awenasa would say it, rough and guttural. The fortune woman pauses and looks around at her fellow wagoneers, clearly looking for someone. After a moment she points and calls, "Herja! Over here!"
An older man with a weathered face like rawhide and a long stride come sup, wiping dust from his leather jacket. He smells of horses and cut grass. He takes one glance at Awenasa, smiles softly and converses a bit in their strange, musical tounge, with the lady in blue robes. Perey leans up and whispers in Awenasa's ear, "She is asking him to translate."
Herja turns back, and folds his arms in the proper form for Shoanti greeting between equals. "Greetings, warrior of the high plains." he says in perfect, if slightly rusty Shoanti. "Forgive my clan-member for the confusion. She did not offer you money, she offered to see your future in the bones. Many, both warrior and low lander, seek us for such knowledge." He pauses, looking with a bit of confusion at Perey and adds, with a slight questioning tone, "I did not know many warriors ventured south to trade in these days. Unless," he smiles, "You mean to tell me this is a raid?"
Awenasa feels momentary hope as the woman speaks the name of her people in an authentic manner but when she says nothing further and begins searching the people, the hope fades. And so, she watches the woman warily as she tries to work out what is happening. Even though the shiny woman doesn't look threatening, the Shoanti was learning to expect the unexpected.
The approach of Herja makes Awenasa think that he is both foreign and familiar to her. Could it be that a Shoanti actually chose to live among outsiders? Or has he just learned of their ways like Perey had? She nods slightly at Perey's whisper so he knows she has heard his words...we shall see which is which
Her face shows a mixture of surprise and relief as Herja greets her respectfully. Her pride is slightly bruised that he greets her as an equal for he is not part of any quah but then she quickly remembers that she is now considered an exile by her people and that she no longer belongs to a quah either. Her shoulders visibly relax but to the trained eye, it is more accurate that in that moment she deflates a little with that realization.
Awenasa returns the greeting and answers, "Greetings, Herja of the lowlands. If you know my language this well then you know this isn't a raid. I don't come to trade. I," then she remembers Perey, "we are on a journey."
His words about seeing her future give her pause. She looks at the woman dressed in blue robes skeptically, "So she is your shaman? She doesn't look like a shaman."
Herja nods, "I have seen Shoanti raiders, and if this were a raid I'd already be dead and our gold gone. I am thankful you come with open hands." Open hands being Shoanti for peaceful intent.
He glances at the woman as well, and then smiles knowingly. It is not a Shoanti smile and Awenasa is convinced he is...whatever these wagon people were and not of her own race.
"No, she is not a shaman. Not a holy woman, as you would say, warrior. She is...a teller of fortunes. It is something many lowlanders come to us, the Wanderers for. Frankly, warrior, it is something that is expected by most, even if we find it tiresome at times." Herja smiles, "But their gold is good, so we put on a show. Surely you understand. How many times have your enemies surrendered at just the sight of Shoanti? Your reputation precedes you. Same with us, just different."
The lean, wiry man shrugs, "I will say Moranna is very good at it, and often sees real signs in the bones. I know the Shoanti have their own ways of seeing the future, and I have seen some impressive sights in my time among your people, but the bones can reveal much."
He turns to the fortune-teller, says something. The woman nods and pulls out a black bag. Herja turns back to Awenasa, "She says she will give you a free telling, if you wish. And she will use her best bones, the ones with the most magic." A pause and then, "Forgive the exaggerations, warrior. Among my people, this is custom and expected. I know the Shoanti often rate such things as dishonest lies. The lowlanders do things...differently. But she does speak true enough, she rarely uses the black bones."
Awenasa nods at Herja's assessment of a Shoanti raid. Even though he was not of her people, at some point in his life he must have been trusted by Shoanti enough to teach him their language and their ways. For now, that was good enough for her.
The Shoanti is intrigued and quite tempted about the prospect of having Moranna look into her future. Every fiber of Awenasa's being wants to take them up on their offer. If she was able to see into tomorrow and beyond then Moranna may be her best bet in finding out any information of where to find The Mordant Spire. But she also knows she doesn't have much money and was taught to be wary about things that sound too good to be true. She needed to be careful.
She frowns somewhat at Herja's mention of gold as the motivation behind them telling lowlanders their fortunes. "If fortunes mean gold for your clan, why would Moranna tell mine for free? I have not done anything to gain your favour. Why offer for free what normally costs?"
Awenasa scans the man's face closely, not willing to be taken for a fool, or an easy mark. While she knew little of the lowlands and less of these 'Wanderers' she knew that outsiders were often considered easy prey, both for scams and violence. It was best to not be too trusting.
Herja's weathered face is hard to read, and Awenasa guesses he is long practiced at hiding his emotions. And yet, despite that, the Shoanti warrior feels a kinship with these two. Clearly they are a people apart from the other lowlanders, a separate tribe. This seems far deeper of a rift then one quah from another.
Herja frowns a bit at her remark, but more to himself. He glances at Moranna, then shrugs, a slight smile crosses his face. "I lived among the Shoanti for several years as...well, I lost a bet to be honest. I bet my freedom I could do better at riding a wild mustang then a Shoanti warrior, from a band that tried to raid us. " Herja pointed across the wagons to where a small paddock stodd, with a few dozens horses milling about inside. The animals looked swift and strong but hardy.
"I am considered one of the best horse-breakers among my people, and we are famed for it." The wiry man laughed, "Your warrior beat me, I swear he glued himself down. So they took me as 'captive' for several years. It was an...interesting experience."
"But they treated me well and I have nothing but respect for the Shoanti. The first thing I learned was this. Never lie. It is much better to tell a hard or black truth, then even the simplest lie. " A pause and then he added, 'This is not true of most lowlanders. I will admit, my own people love a good lie, better then truth most times."
He re-clasped his hands in a subtle sign of apology, "So you will forgive us for being slightly underhanded. She will give your fortune for free, but hoping to win your favor. You mentioned you are on a journey but you clearly lack supplies. She hopes a free fortune telling will make you more likely to buy other items from us. Many of us are craftsman. We make knives, straps, bags and walking sticks, and many other things. It is why we are here, in this village, to sell our wares. I am being honest with you, in honor of those years among your people. I swear we mean you, and your friend, no harm."
He turns and says something to Moranna in his own tongue. Perey watches but doesn't say anything, perhaps hesitant to reveal his knowledge of their language. The blue-robed woman frowns, pouts, but then nods.
Awenasa's furrowed brow begins to smooth as Herja speaks. His acknowledgment of the importance of truth causes her respect to grow for the man. She actually smiles a bit as he shares how he came to know about the Shoanti. Many lowlanders had underestimated her people and it was nice to meet someone who had learned otherwise and was not bitter for it.
"You speak truth, Herja, and for that you have gained my respect. I take you at your word, that as you say it will be. If Moranna is still willing to speak of my future then I will consider the supplies you have to sell. Or if that offer is off the table then she can tell me what she would charge to share her wisdom. You have shown yourself trustworthy and for that I would rather deal with your clan than any others."
She glances over at Perey, looking for any sign from him that she had read the situation incorrectly based on his knowledge of their language.
Perey seems as ease when Awenasa catches his eye, the little man is maybe even amused. The Shoanti wished there was a way he could communicate with her without revealing his information but she understand his reluctance. An unknown visitor to a Shoanti camp that spoke their language might be treated more like a spy then a welcome guest.
Herja nodded, exchanged a few words with Moranna and then said in Shoanti, "You do us great honor, warrior. She still agrees to do it for free. Moranna admits she has never read the future of a Shoanti warrior before so that does truly interest her. Even the Wanderers are not guided purely by gold." He says this lightly, but Awenasa catches a sharp sting behind it, well buried. Are his people often judged to be greedy?
Moranna perked up at her name, then bowed low. Semi-hidden bangles on her wrist and ankles clattered as she did so, an oddly musical sound. She looks up and then waves to the open wagon, obviously invitied her inside.
Herja shrugs and then adds in a low voice, "I will let her take it from here. Her Common is better then you might think." Seeing Awenasa's confusion again he adds, "The other lowlanders, it amuses them to think the Wanderers are foolish or exotic. They will pay more for a fortune in a strange accent then in solid Common."
Awenasa's head almost hurt as she begins to realize how many false faces there seemed to be in the lowlands. People assuming things about other people and yet people both resented and took advantage of those assumptions. It was very exhausting should she choose to follow this string of thoughts down the rabbit hole.
She gives a small, curt nod at Herja's words, "An agreement with honour strengthens us both."
The Shoanti hesitates slightly as Moranna motions her inside. It looks far too confining for someone who had grown up with the openness of the Plateau. However, Awenasa isn't about to insult Moranna by refusing to enter but hopefully she wouldn't have to go alone. "Can Perey come with me? Our futures are now intertwined so it could be beneficial."
Awenasa's face cycles through moments of doubt, relief, and apprehension as Herja explains he won't be present to interpret. "Her Common may be good but mine is not. I guess we shall see how this all unfolds."
Out of her element but hopeful for the information it may provide, Awenasa begins to move towards the wagon and says to Moranna in Common, "Now we see what spirits show."
No one seems to mind that Perey tags along, so both of them follow Moranna up the few retractable stairs into the wagon. The interior is bigger then Awenasa might have guessed, large enough for a few simple stools and a flimsy table. The dim space is lined with exotic carpets and rugs, creating a soft and rather intimate space. The air is scented with spices, musky and rich, making Awenasa's skin tingle oddly.
Her eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom, Perey sitting awkwardly just behind her, their backs to the beaded curtain that served as a door. Moranna sat across the table from them, her blue robes looking like liquid shadow pooling around her. The single streak of white in her hair glowed like the tail of a dusky shooting star.
The woman deftly opened a small wooden drawer from a hidden compartment and held up a few small cloth bags. The woman smiled saying, "Most fortunes...these bones." She shook the bags, which clattered with a dry rattle. "Chicken bones!" She cackled and then put them back away.
Sobering she drew out the black bag from her waist. It clacked too, but with an oddly deep, resonant sound. Carefully the woman drew forth something from the back. A glittering black object, almost like obsidian but with shot through with dark red veins.
"Devil bones." Moranna said, "Bought, long ago. Best bones."
She placed the bone back in the back and set it to one side. Then, after rummaging through another hidden drawer, she drew forth a small glass vial. To Aweanasa the glass was a wonder of itself. Shoanti couldn't make the stuff themselves, and relied purely on raids. A single bottle like that would be a family heirloom for generations.
Moranna uncorked it and poured what seemed to be simple sand onto the table. She re-stopped it, put it away and then smoothed the sand out over the surface, palms scraping lightly. She nodded and then, after a moment, leaned down and blew the sand off. Awenasa blinked then stared at what was revealed.
Etched into the table, too fine to be seen with the naked eye, were dozens of intricate rings and circles, now revealed by the remaining sand.. The circles were all different sizes, some the size of a fingernail, other larger then a dinner plate. Many were interwoven into each other, but a few stood alone.
The Wanderer woman nodded with satisfaction and said, "How bones fall into rings...fortune told. You understand, yes?"
She lifted her black bag and emptied it into one of her palms. Over a dozen black bones fell into her waiting hand, clacking softly against each other. She held them a moment, then closed her eyes and looked upward toward the unseen sky. Moranna muttered something in her own secret language. A prayer? A magical spell? A simple wish for luck? Or was this merely part of what lowlanders expected.
Then her eyes flash open and casts the bones onto the ringed table with a shout. The bones bounce over the surface, tumbling this way and that, clattering like a miniature rockslide. A few spin, while others roll to a stop. In moments all is still, and Awenasa notes not a single bone has fallen off, although a few linger near the edges.
Moranna bends over the bones, head obscuring Awneasa's view. A strange thrill flies up her spine, a spicy sensation....magic? The Wanderer looks up, flashing a smile.
"Bones speak true. This casting...good. Let us see!"
She backs up, giving Awenasa a good look at the scattered bones and sand. One long finger touches the largest bone, which looks like a vertebra perhaps, heavy and thick.
"Long miles...ahead of you." Moranna frowns, squinting, "The farthest I have ever seen....you will walk far before time is done, Shoanti." Awenasa noticed her Common becoming better as she was distracted by telling the fortune. Either she was a very good actor or the fortune-teller was genuinely interested.
She leaned toward another area of the table, where a few tall bones sat, almost in a perfect circle around a chipped tooth. "Five...before one." The woman pondered this and offered, "Five tasks before reward? Five guards of treasure? Five lies before truth?"
She went quicker now, "Pain...yes. Death....but not your own. Not that the bones tell. Death of friends...and enemies. You bring death, it follows you like old cloak." She risked a glance up, seeing Awenasa scarred and heavy fists.
Then she tapped a series of rings. "Red...is your color. Not blood....red. And sand." She seemed confused by this but shrugged, "Bones are strange, this fortune is strange."
One longer finger almost touched a tiny bone, almost a speck, resting against the edge of the table. "Victory....maybe. The Gods watch....strangers watch..."
Then she leans back, her robes flowing, "Something you wish to know? Question you ask? I will search bones for answer."
The tingling on Awenasa's skin moves into her nose and she lets out a series of sneezes as the unfamiliar scents permeate her nose.
She takes in her surroundings, not liking the fact that her back faces the door but not complaining about it either.
Her eyes widen slightly at the mention of devil bones. She couldn't even begin to imagine how one would acquire the bones of a devil. And really, how would she know the difference. She studies Moranna more than she reacts to her words until the bones tumble onto the table. At this point Awenasa leans back and her muscles tense, ready to catch any that may fall on to the floor. When the bones remain on the table, the Shoanti relaxes somewhat once again.
As Moranna begins interpreting the bones, there is a hint of skepticism on Awenasa's face. Long miles ahead? The Shoanti has already told them she was on a journey. Did this woman really see the future?
The woman's accent begins to fade and Awenasa's interest increases as Moranna's own excitement rises. Five what before one what? The Wanderer gives a few interpretations but which one could it be - or was it something else entirely?
Awenasa takes a sharp intake of breath as she is told that death follows her. Thoughts of her sister's broken body flood her mind and her shoulders droop. Had Moranna not continued, Awenasa may have spiralled down into her own dark thoughts but her ears perk up at the mention of the colour red and it gives her something completely different to focus on. Red? What is red and not blood?
The Shoanti remains silent until Moranna speaks directly to her. "I have questions about fortune but first want ask bones about Mordant Spire.
Where is it?"
Once Moranna consults the bones about Awenasa's question she asks more about the fortune itself. "Why you say fortune strange? Why red? What about me says death?"
Moranna looks up, confusion visible on her face even in the murk. "Mordant Spire? No need bones....Is a distant land, far to west, beyond Lungo Drom." She waves a hand vaguely in that direction, "Would ask Phuro for more, she knows."
At Awenasa's follow-up questions the woman leans back over the sand-etched table. "Fortune strange...unique. Never promised so many miles...More then all roads in Lundo Drom... combined." She seems to shake her head, as if banishing a thought too large for comfort.
"Red...fortune sometime suggest color for person. Sometimes symbol. White for life, new baby or wife. Sometimes literal, snow in future. Bones are hard to read. Red....powerful color. It seems....strong. Much red in your future. " The woman looks up, "Be wary of red doors or red paths."
"Death..." Moranna says, voice low, "Is all round you. But this...this is not surprise? I can see in your eyes. Death...old friend." She points to some of the bones. "Death behind you, death beside you...death ahead. So is with many people, most bones...speak death. But yours...possible many death. More then most." Then she stops and squints at a small circle, off to the side. "But perhaps not. Choices....your bones scream of choices and tests. Many lie before.....of body and soul. You must be strong, if wish to travel to end."
Awenasa feels a jolt of excitement as someone seems to recognize her mention of the Mordant Spire. She's disappointed that Moranna can't tell her more about it but at least she has another name...Phuro. "Is Phuro part of clan?"
The Shoanti peers down at the table as if trying to see what Moranna saw. "How many miles? More than from here to sea? No know number miles in Lungo Drom."
Her brow furrows, "Red my colour but need to be wary? Bones confusing. I not know how you can make sense. I never seen red doors or paths but I remember your words if do."
Awenasa can't help but glance at Perey when Moranna lists the many way that death shrouds the warrior's life. If the roles were reversed, she would be nervous about the danger her own life was in. Did Perey fear that being with her may be the cause of his own death?
"From reading bones, what three things should I remember? What most important?"
"Phuro is..." Moranna frowns, struggling with the concept, "Head mother? Planner...guide of feet. You would say...leader, yes? Decider of hard things and keeper of knowledge." She smiled slyly in the dark, robes rustling, "Maybe you meet her, yes?"
As for the miles....Moranna shrugged, "Lungo Drom is land you are. Others call Varisia. Foolish people. You would say 'Land of Roads'. But the miles ahead of you....more then all roads put together. Make from here to the sea seem like me to you. Nothing." She shrugged again, "Never, in all years, seen such miles. You will go far, Shoanti."
The Wanderer woman sounds a bit irritated when asked about the color, her voice losing some of it's exotic charm, "Color not good or bad, just is! I say wary not fear, not be afraid. Red important to your future, maybe good, maybe bad. Hard to see. Bones are hard, yes, but never lie. These are good bones and this a good throw. Much here, for wisdom for those to see it."
Awenasa glances at Perey to see how the younger man is taking it. To her surprise he doesn't seem worried or concerned. Indeed he looks at the thrown bones with obvious interest, staring at them intently as if reading something. Could he see some sense there? Perey had revealed hidden talents before. Did he have a secret knack for fortune-telling?
Moranna starts talking again, "Three things...."
She points again to the tiny stone near the table edge, "What you desire is possible. You can succeed, no matter how dark road is. There is possible, if not promise. Do not give up, Shoanti, on whatever your task is."
A pause and then, "The ways of the warrior lie ahead." Moranna seems puzzled by her own phrasing but struggles on, like someone reading a poorly written page, "The aspects of the warrior....they are part of this. Tests? Struggle? Understanding? Hard to say, but types of warrior, not just fighting, is important. Think on that."
"Last...you will go many distant lands and meet strange people. Do not forget self in this. Remember your people, your ways, and your task. You will be tempted to stray....do not. That is what the bones say."
Awenasa is focused on her perceived lead and doesn't notice the sly smile that crosses Moranna's face at the mention of meeting Phuro. "Yes, I would like. Can you arrange meet with Phuro?"
The Shoanti nods as she begins to piece some of once unfamiliar words together as Moranna elaborates on what she has foretold. She watches Perey with curiosity as she can't help but wonder what else he may be hiding from her. At least she can take comfort in the fact that he doesn't look terrified with all the talk of death stalking her at every turn.
Her brow creases in thought as her fortune is boiled down to three things. There is hope knowing that her task is indeed possible. There is challenge ahead with the ways of the warrior. This would give her the most to ponder as she considers the ways that may not involve fighting. There is uncertainty in living within the world yet still being apart from it. She would need to be like the wind during her journey having magnitude of spirit and the ability to change direction should conditions change.
Moranna freezes for a moment when Awenasa, rather boldly, says she wants to meet the Phuro. A chilly silence ends when the woman gives a liquid shrug, clearly dismissing it without giving a firm answer. Even Awenasa gets the feeling ones does not simply ask to meet the Guide of Feet.
The woman starts to gather up her bones while saying, "May stars guide your way, Shoanti warrior. Good luck."
As they step out, Perey blinks at the suddenly bright sun and takes a breath of clean, fresh air (a welcome relief after the stuffy wagon).
"Well...that was interesting." He says in Shoanti, glancing back, "Do you think she was telling the truth or was it just something to get on our good side? Some of it seemed very strange. None of the fortunes our quah had said things like that." Grinning he perfectly imitated Moranna's exotic throaty accent, "Five before one...." A laugh, "Spooky."
Around them Awenasa saw new figures entering the circle of wagons. They were lighter skinned, wearing simple homespun tunics and pants. Callused hands and stooped shoulders. Awenasa knew the look and instantly identified them as lowlander villagers, clearly residents of the nearby town. Many were already deep in talks with the Wanderer merchants, pointing at knives or beads, debating prices. A few villagers carried chickens or bags of potato, ready to trade. Awenasa saw very little coin or money.
More then a few of the villagers give her a dirty look, if they catch her eye. A few even make a sign against the ward of evil over their hearts, as if she was some kind of demon risen from Hell. One burly man with heavy-set brows breaks off arguing about the price of a silver dagger and turns toward Awenasa.
"Hey, horser." The man says insultingly, using the slur with clear relish, "Down here all by yourself? Get lost from your other brown skins? Must be why you go in packs, like dogs, eh?"
A few of the villagers grin, but a few others take a step back. The few Wanderers nearby go wooden and very still, or quietly lead children out of the way.
Awenasa doesn't like that her request is so easily dismissed but she doesn't continue asking. There's something in the woman's demeanour that makes her think she may have made a misstep. She would look around the wagons and see if she can find this leader herself.
A shadow darkens Awenasa's face as Moranna mentions the stars guiding her way as it makes her think of her favourite constellation and by extension, her sister. She wonders how long it will take before thoughts of her sister ceases to cause pain along with the good memories.
She pauses along with Perey outside the wagon and allows her eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness. "I think she believes that she's telling the truth." She raises an eyebrow at Perey's imitation, "I will remember her words in case they help in our journey but I won't necessarily make any decisions based on them. Only time will tell if her fortune has any validity."
The Shoanti can't help but notice the villagers watching her as she watches them. If she was not a proud Shoanti, the dirty looks may have affected her but she would have to respect these lowlanders for her to care. However, one man in the crowd isn't content with just giving her a dirty look and his insult hangs in the air as those in the vicinity tense.
The look that Awenasa gives the lowlander is as scorching as the sun in the heat of the day on the Plateau. She had heard such insulting words before but the ignorance still makes her angry. She knows that he is no match for her skill yet she still wants to forcefully wipe that smirk off his face. Yet she isn’t going to be the one who throws the first punch. She has a little more sense than to be so easily provoked when she is now the outsider.
Instead she chooses intimidation and secretly hopes that the man doesn't have the same self-control. Her voice is as cold as her glare is burning, ”Not by self. I lucky to have a pack, unlike you. And not lost. I know exactly where you live. Others there now.” The Shoanti's words are not spoken to bluff the man but rather to stoke the fear that is obviously behind his unimaginative insults.
The man actually stops and glances over his shoulder at the town. The small village is as peaceful as ever, with a small stream of people heading down the dirt path to the circled wagons.
In a moment he turns back, face red with anger now. His fists bunch at his sides as he says, "You making threats, horser? I'll show you." he glances back and gestures to two younger men, both sharing his heavy shoulders and black hair. "Come on lads, let's teach this warrior a lesson in manners."
He takes a step forward but then Herja is there, the lean man appearing like magic. A small knife rests in his hand, glinting in the sunlight like a shard of silver. He juts his chin at the vengeful Varisian.
"No fights, you know the rules." He says in plain Common, sternly.
The villager scowls and says, "Out of my way, tinker. This is between me and the brown skin over there."
Herja shakes his head, "Do you want to get into a fight with me? On the first day?" He pointily waves around at the impromptu market that is springing up. Even to Awenasa untrained eye, she can see villagers buying everything from tiny mirrors to needles to woven blankets. This was obviously a major commercial event for the small town.
Finally the burly man spits and stares Awenasa down. "You leave your new friends, and I'll kill you. You raiders deserve worse then that, I'll say. Come on boys, let's go. I don't want any of this tinker trash."
He rudely turns his back on Herja, who is still standing at ease and stomps away. Before Awenasa can do anything, another Wanderer hurries up to the lean horse-tamer and starts an animated conversation in their own language.
Perey cocks an ear and whispers to Awenasa, "The other one is telling Herja you are trouble and they should ask you to leave too." Perey sounded worried, obviously afraid of the villagers threats.
Herja shrugs off his fellow waggoneer and walks over to Awenasa speaking in Shoanti, "You will find little welcome in the lowlands, I am afraid. Especially this close to the border. You know how much they hate and fear raiders. Maybe toward the coast you would be an exotic foreigner, but here you are an enemy." He pauses then, looking Awwenasa up and down, as if measuring her for something. He purses his lips but says nothing further.
Awenasa opens her mouth to tell the man that she doesn't make threats, only promises, when Herja is suddenly beside her.
She watches the tension-filled exchange between the villager and Herja and begins to understand a bit more about the rules. It was a good thing that she never gave into her first impulse to throw a punch because apparently that was against the Wanderers' rules and she did not want to alienate the people who had shown her respect. Not to mention one of them may know where the Mordant Spire was located.
The Shoanti watches the burly man impassively as he threatens her life. Considering the opponents she had come up against in the course of her young life, his threat is unconcerning. Even if he had the help of his two boys.
What does concern her is the animated conversation between Herja and one of his own. When Perey translates the exchange for her, she is conflicted. Even though she would never bend her back for any lowlander, she never meant to cause Herja and his clan any trouble.
Her composure remains stoic as she answers, "I never expected to be welcomed. What I didn't expect was to meet anyone who would treat me with dignity and respect. You have done this and now I fear I have made things difficult for your clan. I was hoping to have a meeting with your Phuro before leaving but maybe it's best if I continue my journey sooner than later."
Herja raises an eyebrow when Awenasa mentions Phuro. "How did you....ah, Moranna telling tales?" The lean man shrugs it off, turning to more important manners.
"I say this with great respect," Herja says, voice delicate, "Have you ever traveled the lowlands? Do you understand what that man represents? You are a Shoanti warrior, marked and dressed. These people hate you, more then the hate the Ulfens, probably. Your people raid their farms, steal their livestock, burn their hayricks and even sometimes spill their blood. You are one woman, alone." Perey wilts a little but says nothing.
"You will never make it past the border regions, if you simply march off alone. Can even the best warrior take on a whole quah, if they are alone? You might defeat that man and his sons, but what about the rest of his relations, what about the rest of the town? And the next town? "
Awenasa looks disappointed at Herja's words, "Telling tales? Does that mean this Phuro doesn't exist? Or that they don't know the information I'm looking for?"
The Shoanti sobers and focuses on Herja as his own tone turns serious. She never plans anything but to be truthful with the man who has helped her and shown her kindness, "I have never been this deep into the lowlands before and never without many of my quah." When he explains by telling her she is hated more than they hate the Ulfens, she looks completely shocked, "How can they hate me more than the Ulfens? They take land that is not theirs and slaughter innocent people!"
Awenasa closes her eyes and takes a few breaths to calm herself. Her voice sounds somewhat small as she speaks next, "I have no choice but to march off alone, or at least march off with Perey. I've been told what I must do and I can't return home without doing it." She looks Herja directly in the eye and continues, "You have much wisdom. You have lived with one foot in each of these worlds. What would you suggest I do? Do you know anyone going towards the sea who would be willing to travel with someone like me?"
Herja smiled slightly, "A figure of speech. Moranna spoke true, but it is not something to mention casually to outsiders. Would you tell a rival quah the secrets of your elders? Or perhaps, a better example would be, the location of your hunting trails?"
The lean man then shrugs, "As for the Ulfen, the loawlanders are strange. They will happily accept an overlord who takes their herds and wheat in the form of taxes, but if the same amount is taken by a raid, they will never forgive it. The lowlanders are used to being beaten down, the Ulfen are just the latest." There is a note of disdain in the Wanderer's voice, and he obviously does not include himself (or his people) among the 'lowlanders' even if Awenasa's people would certainly do so.
He rubs his chin when Awenasa asks for advice on her trip, "A difficult problem. Let me think on it, warrior. I beg you to stay in our camp, at least until nightfall when all strangers must leave. I will ponder your problems..." And, obviously deep in thought, the horse-breaker wanders off.
Perey watches him go and says, "Should we spend the time buying supplies maybe?" Then he chuckles, "Or maybe we could win some money off you wrestling?"
Awenasa nods slowly at Herja's explanation regarding the Phuro although she looks disappointed that she wouldn't be able to speak with the one person who could give her the answers she needed. "You must protect your clan by protecting Phuro." She sounds slightly defeated as she adds, "I understand."
The Shoanti frowns as she tries to follow the logic of why lowlanders accepted Ulfen tyranny. She shakes her head, "They just roll over and show their bellies? And they prefer that?"
She looks around carefully studying her surroundings and seeing who was watching her, "Are you sure I am welcome to stay in your camp? I don't want to cause any unrest within your clan. Not after you have been so hospitable."
Awenasa watches Herja leave and allows herself a minuscule of hope that he would have the wisdom to see a solution to her problem that was hidden from her.
Perey's chuckle garners a skeptical look from Awenasa, "I assume that was some sort of attempt at humour because I think I have caused enough trouble for the time being. These lowlanders would love the chance to wrestle a Shoanti until they lose. Then anger wins out over honour and there would be much fighting. However, weeks from now when our money begins to run out it may be something we need to reconsider in order to survive." She relaxes slightly with the perceived safety of the Wanderers' market, "Instead, how about we look at what they have to sell."
Awenasa was not familiar with markets and her people were not very commercial, at least in the sense the lowlanders seemed to be. The Shoanti traded amongst themselves, of course, but mostly in terms of favors or honor, not for coin. Asking a rival quah for gold in exchange would have been both insulting and confusing. One could not eat coin. Her only real experience had been the rare trader that had ventured onto the Plateau, looking to exchange his glass or metal for Shoanti loot or animal hides. Perey's father had been one of these, the ususally short and squat merchants. But those were only only a wagon or two at best, with a small collection carefully selected for only the most high value objects the Shoanti wanted. Why bother bringing books or feathers if the Shoanti always bought knives?
So Awenasa was not prepared for the sheer scope of the Wanderer caravan's stocks. Their were well over two dozen little stalls and counters set up around the circled encampment, many festooned with brightly colored scarves of dyed silk or cotton flapping in the breeze. Most had a smiling Wanderer behind them, eager to make small talk and clinch a sale. Everything was sold for coin and Awenasa was happy she had a great store of lowlander money taken from her raids.
It seemed, at first, Awenasa could buy anything she wanted. Knives say in glittering rows, some of simple wooden handles but other of intricately carved bone. She saw cup and plates, both of pewter and wood. Baskets, bags and crates as well. There was clothing for sell too. Beaded shirts or hats covered with jaunty feathers. Carefully carven walking sticks, covered with the stars of Desna (the lowlander god of travel). Religious amulets and holy symbols covered one table, mostly made out of wood but a few were metal and gold, brought out of distant lands. To her amusement she even saw an arm band supposedly blessed in order to keep 'Shoanti raiders' away.
She also saw weapons, but not very many. A few simple swords, axe heads and a smattering of battered helmets and cast-off shields. There was even one stall selling a few simple magical or alchemical items, obviously imported from the bigger cites deeper in the lowlands. Wands of healing or magical boots...all outside of Awenasa's knowledge.
Still, to her, it seemed a great sign of wealth and power, and this was just one small village. What were lowlander cities like?
Awenasa moves gracefully through the market, her eyes wide as saucers as she took in all the wares. Her spatial awareness keeps her from bumping into anyone as her gaze remains fixed on the tables displaying goods at each of the stalls.
There are many things that catch her eye and she wants to touch everything and at the same time is scared to touch anything.
Aweanasa wanders among the improvised shops and stalls with an ease that belies her inexperience. It seemed simple enough. She asked what a thing cost and she gave that amount in coin. Why did merchants make such a big deal about it?
Her new red scarf blowing in the slight breeze, Awenasa's stomach begins to rumble. She was hungry and when had been the last good meal? A few trail rations from the druids? The Shoanti realized she had no idea how to get food here. In her quah food had been, basically, shared communally except for a few trifles or special treats saved by each family according to their tastes.
Did one buy food? What happened if you ran out of money? Surely they didn't starve...did they?
Awenasa catches the scent of cooking meat on the wind and automatically walks toward it. Around her any villagers give her cold stares or worse, although most simply step out of her way. She is starting to see what Herja meant. If everyone acts like this...she'll never make it to the ocean.
Soon she is standing near a Wanderer stall that is bigger then most. A shelf of bottles and jars stands behind the counter, many made of colored glass that twinkles in the sun. A few stools are arranged in front, with villagers sitting and drinking. A plate of cooked meat sits between them, greasy nuggets of chicken, which they eat with their fingers. At seeing Awenasa their smiles vanish into gold grimaces. As one they stand up, turn and walk away.
Except one.
He is a big, lumpy lowlander wearing old ragged fighting leathers, much stained and moth eaten. His long blond hair is loose around his shoulders, greasy and tangled. Despite the slovenly appearance, there is an odd sense of authority about him...or the shadow of it. A mug rests in his hand, filled with foaming liquid, which reeks of bad wheat or barely. Last, but not least, Awenasa notes the burly, aged man is missing a leg, his appendage ending in a lumpy ball just below his knee. The wound looks very old.
"Shoanti?" The man says in Common, voice buzzing with drink, looking up at Awenasa. Their is no fear or hate in his brown eyes, just surprise. His accent....this is an Ulfen man!
"What brings a Shoanti warrior down from the hills?" he says, narrowing his eyes and some of the slur leaves his words, "Are you here to cause trouble?"
Awenasa is a little surprised at how happy the merchant is when she hands over the coin for the asking price for her scarf. This continues with the knife and finally with the pendant. However, she notices that the vendors dealing with other buyers aren't nearly so happy and in some instances, they look to be arguing. She even witnesses a person toss the goods back at the vendor and looks like they're going to storm away until the vendor sighs loudly and makes a big production of lowering the price and says loudly how their children will have to go without shoes now. These lowlanders are strange.
She follows her rumbling stomach to what looks like some sort of eating area. Just as she's thinking about how to get some food for herself, the stools empty leaving just one man who actually starts a conversation with her.
As she realizes that he's Ulfen, she can't help but feel years of ingrained anger begin to rise in her chest. Ulfen killing her people, Ulfen trying to take their land and possessions, Ulfen never leaving them in peace. Her emotions war with her thoughts...he's crippled, a fight would not be honourable...he's Ulfen, maybe he has knowledge that can aide my quest...Herja said no fighting
In the end, it is Herja's rule that keeps her from acting on her instinct to defend her people by ridding the world of Ulfen. Yes, she may be on a quest to find a specific Ulfen but that was only because he could possibly help her people but she highly doubted that this was Eivind. If she had any hope in convincing Eivind to help her people then she needed to find a way to speak with one without her thoughts being clouded by anger.
Awenasa's stomach rumbles loudly and her face flinches with disgust at how her body announces its weakness to all close enough to hear. In her broken Common she says, "No trouble. Against their rules. Here to eat, like you."
The Ulfen eyes Awenasa carefully and then says, "The Shoanti are not known for following rules. I should know, it was one of your cousins that took my leg." He awkwardly waves the ragged stump of his leg. "Fighting your people on the high plains, trying to catch some raiders who slipped past our forts."
He grinned then, his grimy face parting dirt and unwashed sweat, "Fast little runners, Shoanti. Good fighters, but we got them all. Small price, for a leg."
He raised his tankard, paused and then said, "Sit with me. I hate drinking alone. The villagers bore me and the Sczarni dislike me." Awenasa notes the Wanderer behind the counter frowns at this name, but hides it quickly.
"I imagine they don't like you much either. I know some SHoanti have raided them. Sit then, two outcasts together." A short pause and then, "I insist. Tell me tales of the Plateau, for that is own land as well." Oddly he doesn't seem to say this with a sneer or with anger, just....natural assumption.
The Wanderer pours Awenasa something that smells of apples into a clear glass cup. Perey hovers behind her, eyes fixed on the Ulfen man with a mixture of fear and awe.
Awenasa frowns, clearly confused by the man's words, "You mistaken. Shoanti follow many rules. But Shoanti need to respect person to follow rules."
She looks at the man's leg and then back to him, "If it one of my cousins, you lose more than just leg."
She is clearly puzzled by the man's behaviour. In one sentence he both compliments and insults her people. When he asks her to sit down with him, she is completely speechless. How can she sit with someone who takes such a casual view of killing her people? But if she doesn't sit with him, will it start a fight? As her brain turns over possible options, her stomach rumbles again. This time it is her physical needs that make the decision for her, although she convinces herself that this is a good opportunity to learn about Ulfen from an Ulfen.
She gingerly perches on one of the stools, ready to pounce if necessary. "Why you here if you don't like people or they don't like you?"
She takes a tentative sip from the glass cup she's given and motions at Perey to sit on the stool beside her. Switching to Shoanti she said, "Don't hover back there. If I'm hungry then you're hungry. You can ask for food much better than me."
She turns back to the Ulfen. "Plateau is Shoanti land. No tales to tell that you like. I like Ulfen lore. How about you tell me tale of Eivind of the Heavy Hand. If it one I not hear before, I buy you drink."
Around Awenasa she can hear the sounds of the caravan market. Unseen kids laughing and running among the wagons, the wet squelch of feet in the grass turning to mud. The almost musical argumentation of the Wanderers as they bicker or disagreed with each other, overlaid with the harsher sounds of the villagers. Above, birdsong piped in and the gentle rustle of a summer breeze. It was a soft, easy place, a respite from a cold and hard world.
The Ulfen snorted at her joke, shrugging. He automatically hid his damaged leg back under the stool, which seemed how he normally sat.
At her question he counters, "You are here and no one likes you. Best you not ask and I won't either. Keep our secrets to ourselves."
Perey gingerly takes another seat, the stool wobbling dangerously as he awkwardly clambers on. Once seated he looks at the small counter and then says in Shoanti, "What do you want me to ask for? Lowlander food is weird. I don't see any stuffed gut..." Then he brightened, "I know that one." To Awenasa it looked like old cabbage, lumpy and fill with mud. "My mother used to make it for me, when she could find it. Cabbages stuffed with meat. You'll like it."
Meanwhile the crippled Ulfen is considering Awenasa's deal. His eyes, before so watery and dim seemed oddly sharp now, revealed. He rubs his chin, "Ulfen tales, eh? You wish to hear of our prowess? You are unlike any Shoanti I have met before. But then again, I have never had drinks with on. Very well, a tale of Eivind the Heavy Hand."
He considers this for a long moment, then finishes his tankard, draining the last of the drink in a smooth, practiced motion. Wiping his mouth he says, "I will tell how he got his name. Do you know that one?"
Awenasa actually did not. Her people only knew scraps of Ulfen tales and while they were popular, there was a bit of a taboo about the Ulfen mythos, being that of the foe.
"Once, years ago in the far north where the wind howls like wolves and the cold cuts like a knife," The Ulfen man said, his voice falling into an easy rhythm. "There was a Jarl, a great lord in his wooden hall. He was very wealthy but greedy for more, gold for more fine mean, for more silks for his mistresses. But he already taxed his land, he already borrowed a smuch as he could from the merchants, and he was too cowardly for raiding. Where could he find his coin? And then he had an idea."
"To the west of his land, there were deep forests, dark and dangerous. And there, among the trees as wide as houses, lurked The Beast. It was huge and man-like, a great troll with muscles like stone and eyes of fire. It dwelled deep in the forest keeping to itself, rarely being seen by men. Yet, it was said to be a rare and powerful beast, whose hide and bone would sell for a high price."
"So the Jarl asked for heroes, worthy men to come and slay the foul beast. Many came, for in those days the Ulfen were brave and hardy, eager to do great deeds whatever the cause."
"So each night, a Ulfen warrior would gather his weapons, blow and his horn and set off into the dark woods. Some took swords, some axes, other mighty lances. And every morning their heads would be found on the edge of the forest, along with their weapons. Their faces were set in torment and their weapons, unbloodied. Had they never even had a chance to draw them? How cunning what this beast?"
"This went for months, with mighty warriors, young and old, dying nightly. And still the greedy Jarl asked for more men, and more died. Finally, the High-King heard of this and decided it needed to end. These warriors were needed for his armies, not to die to fatten a Jarl's pockets, but he couldn't order the Jarl to stop. How could he? On the surface, the man was merely ordering the his land rid of a monster."
"So the High-King sent his best hunter, a canny slayer of beasts who had hunted the northern wilds for many years. Along with him went his apprentice, little more then a boy although already man high and strong."
"Together they reached the Jarl's home and heard the tale. The old master was silent, but the apprentice said, 'This is foolish, master. The beast harms no one, why go after it? Is the world not big enough and full of enough fighting?' And it was said, while he meant his words, he also felt fear, staring at the sighing trees of the forest."
"His master was silent, for he knew the wisdom of the words. The Beast was no danger to the Jarl or the people. There were other places he might do good. But the High-King's word was law and thus must be. The master then, doing his best to follow both the law and sense, ordered the apprentice to stay behind, for he would go alone. The apprentice shouted in anger, outraged to be left behind and yet, it is told, in his deep heart he was glad for he feared the Beast."
"So the old hunter went forth and blew his horn. The young apprentice waited at the edge of the wood, watching for any sign. Night fell and nothing happened. Dawn came and nothing stirred. The whole day passed and yet the apprentice saw nothing. Then, just as the sun started to dip, his master came. Crawling, his belly ripped and his inside trailing in the grass. He came to his apprentice' feet and whispered, 'No weapon can touch it!' and then died."
"For a long moment there was silence, as the apprentice watched the sun set behind the trees. Shadows wrapped about him, black as night. Above stars came out, each as white as snow. One of them, surely, was his Master for he had been a mighty warrior. Then, silently and with no horn, the apprentice went into the woods."
"The greedy Jarl was greatly afraid when he heard what had happened, for the High-King would not be pleased that his best hunter had died for nothing. So he started to make a web of lies, that the hunter had been drunk when he set out, a foolish boast on his lips, and his apprentice with him. For surely the apprentice would die as well."
"Then the sun came up, and no one waited for the apprentice, no one hoped. But a few came, looking for his head and weapon. However, nothing was there. Just the shallow grave of the Master hunter. All was still. Then a dark shape moved in the woods, birds flying before it. The people cowered in fear, guessing the Beast had finally come in vengeance. Trees cracked, like a great storm, and the earth trembled."
"And then the apprentice came forth from the wood, bloody and dirty. He seemed taller and stronger, his eyes flashing like fire. In one huge fist he carried the snarling head of the Beast, tongue hanging limply out of twisted jaws. Slowly he marched to the Jarl's seat. The greedy Jarl praised him loudly, saying he was the finest hunter in the land and promising him a great share of the Beast's sale. And...where was the rest of the Beast? Had it been too heavy to carry?"
"The the apprentice laughed and said, 'I am Eivind! I slew you Beast, but not for you, but in the name of a good man wasted for greed. No blade or weapon could touch it, so I killed it with my own hands!' The young man held up his bleeding, battered fists, covered with scars and cuts. 'And then I broke the body and threw it in a great chasm, where no man could find it. I bring the head, so all may see I speak true. But even that, you will not enjoy. For this I take as my wergild, a blood price for wasted life and for a man I loved as a father.'
"And with that, Eivind threw the troll's head into the Jarl's roaring fire. It burned, throwing up a great black smoke that stained the hall's roof for the rest of its day. Eivind then turned and left the Jarl without another word."
"And that is why they call him the Heavy Hand."