“Hah!” Emlyn laughs, “My weight in gold and then some.”
“Why do you think you’re so valuable?” Korek frowns, “That seems like quite a boast.”
Growing very serious, Emlyn replies levelly, “I have won supposedly unwinnable battles, beaten presumably unbeatable opponents, and generally done the seemingly impossible more times than I can count. I have never had the luxury of easy choices or simple tasks.”
Relenting slightly, Emlyn sighs heavily, “It has been my life, and I still have trouble with it, so I don’t fault you for being skeptical.”
Laughing at Korek and Argonath, Atres shoves both men aside. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get in my request for a few dances early,” Atres grins, “Maybe even a bit of a drinking game later, if you’re so inclined. I’m already impressed by you, and the two doubters can just sod right off.”
Atres is tall, broad through the shoulders, trim at the waist, muscular, and almost devastatingly masculine. A curly mop of dark brown hair tops a face framed by intelligent amber-gold eyes, high cheekbones, a square jaw, and a straight nose. His appearance, combined with his lilting mountain accent, usually serves to garner him all the female attention he desires and often much more that he wishes would go elsewhere.
This time, however, he’s the hunter and not the prey, and the novelty of the situation isn’t lost on him. His amber-gold eyes are dancing with mischief as he appraises her, judging her level of reciprocal interest.
Shifting to lean in a bit above her, Atres gives her a sultry smile, “Besides, I know what you are, lass. That you can’t lie, even in a boast, without damaging your bond to your Goddess. I’m of the opinion that you have undervalued yourself by at least half, if not more. And for the record, you being a paladin doesn’t put me off in the slightest. It just means I can trust you.”
As Emlyn blushes furiously, Atres chuckles, “Watch out, now, lass. I might be tempted to see just how far that blush goes.”
Emlyn’s blush only deepens, and she stares at her toes. “I’m still at least three winters away from being old enough to be courted,” Emlyn replies primly.
“Oh my,” Atres grins and backs up a bit, “In that case, I’d like to try to get a head start on the competition. You’re well worth waiting for. If I overstep a line, you let me know. Will you trust me to be man enough about it?”
Atres’s eyes go wide as magic swirls around him, and then he chuckles as Emlyn blushes furiously again.
“Found my motives to your liking then?” he grins as Emlyn ducks her head, ears, and cheeks glowing.
“I told you, lass. I understand what you are. Now come here. Let's get you mounted up so we can go back. I’d like to be able to claim my dances with you.”
He boosts her up into the saddle, leans against Snowflake for a moment before giving her another look that makes her blush, and steps back. Turning quickly, he leaps into his saddle and rushes to take the spot beside her, leaving Argonath and Korek to catch up.
“Let’s go,” he grins at her, “Your detractors can eat dust the rest of the way back. Now tell me, how is it that you find yourself in Harito?”
“That’s easy enough,” Emlyn says and launches into the official story of her arrival via Goddess transport.
Soon enough, they’re back at the fairgrounds, and Emlyn rides right up to Oja’s trading stall, dragging the travois. Benger sees Atres grab Emlyn and lift her gently to the ground, and sees Emlyn’s blush.
Chuckling Atres addresses Benger, “Seems your little sister is a mighty huntress. We’ve come back with plenty of fresh meat.”
Argonath and Korek hang back, letting Atres navigate this on his own.
Frowning, Benger crosses his arms, “You realize how young she is?”
“I’ll wait,” Atres replies evenly, “She’s well worth it.”
“She also has seven other brothers in our cohort,” Benger says, eyes narrowed, “and we all dote on our sister.”
“Are you going to check my motives, too?” Atres grins, “You’re welcome to. She already has, and since I’ve not been shooed away, I’m guessing they might just be to her liking.”
While the two men continue to size each other up, Emlyn walks back to the camp of the Tinker-Folk.
Kaven sees her approaching and gestures to the others to remain back as Kaven goes to see what she wants. “You still smell of god-magic, blood, and steel. What is it that you want from us this time?”
Fishing in her belt pouch, she pulls out two of the wolf’s molars and offers them to Kaven. “Fair payment for the reading done by your seer. Payment that should provide her with some protection. I took these today from a wolf that tried to attack me.”
Kaven considers for a long moment before snatching the still bloody teeth from her outstretched palm. Kaven rolls the teeth in his palm as he watches her retreating back.
Returning to their encampment, he goes to Vadoma’s wagon and knocks. When Vadoma calls him to come in, he places the wolf’s teeth in her hand. “The girl who stinks of god-magic gave me these to give to you. She said it was fair payment for the reading and should provide you with some protection.”
Rolling the teeth in her hands, Vadoma laughs delightedly, “So… Not only does she know what she is, she shields others from what she is. She is right. By paying for the reading, she turns the gods' eyes from us. By paying for it with wolf’s teeth, she gives me a powerful talisman against evil.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Benger, faced with Atres’s unflappable good nature and relentless interest in Nia, finally concedes, “Just don’t hurt her. Gods, she’s been through enough for ten people.”
Growing serious suddenly, Atres gestures for him to explain, “Tell me. Perhaps I can help her with some of it.”
Benger gives him a look of exasperation, but Atres stands firm, “I plan to claim my place as the man in her life, so it’s my place to comfort her, if she needs it.”
“To be blunt, she needs it,” Benger tells him, “More than any of our cohort knows how to give her. She’s far from home. She’s the sole survivor of her family and her group of friends. She arrived at our temple so burnt and shredded, we didn’t know if she was male or female for the first month. I couldn’t even tell you how many times she was resurrected or how many hours the clerics spent healing her to get her to where she is now. The priests and clerics were clustered around her bed, chanting in shifts for the first couple of months.”
Atres stands there, wheels spinning, “Hmmm... homesickness, grief, anger, survivor’s guilt, and a lot of trauma to work through. I think I can deal with all that.”
“Add frustration with her current physical limitations to that list and you’ve just about covered it,” Benger agrees.
“I caught flashes of that earlier,” Atres nods, “when she fought with Argonath. She made some snarky comment about having as much substance as the peas in your dining hall.”
Benger barks a laugh, “The peas are horrid. The kitchen staff cooks them until they’re just green mush.”
“She’s a lot more,” Atres sighs, “than a puddle of green mush.”
Benger starts to turn away, but Atres stops him.
“Thank you for telling me,” Atres says thoughtfully, “I will do what I can to help her.”
Looking up, he sees Emlyn approaching and smiles broadly, “Shall we get some of your kills on a spit? I think a bit of roast washed down with some of the whisky I have in my saddle bags might be most welcome for dinner.”
Nodding at him, Emlyn pulls some of the pegs Atres whittled for her loose and unfastens the hide flap. Pulling out the wolf pelt, she takes it to Daki.
“I took this from a wolf that tried to attack me,” Emlyn says, “The fur is warm and will make a good collar for your winter coat, once it’s tanned.”
Turning to Benger, she grins, “How big a fire did you build?”
“Not big enough,” Benger grins back, “judging by the load you’ve got there. How many?”
“Four elk, one big older bull and three younger ones,” Emlyn explains, “I saved the big one’s head in case you wanted the antlers.”
Reaching into the bloody pile, she pulls out the head with the antlers still attached. The rack is huge, taller than Emlyn and reaching nearly to Atres’s shoulders.
“That’s quite a prize,” Benger agrees, “Papa, do you think...”
“Yes,” Daki agrees, “That’s useful. Furniture, knife handles, any number of uses for a rack that size.”
“If there are any pregnant women here,” Emlyn tells Oja, “I’ve got the hearts and livers, too.”
Glancing at Warrick, “Make sure that Damiana gets some of the liver.”
“Why eat that?” Oja asks.
“According to my people,” Emlyn explains, “it makes for strong children.”
Emlyn continues to unload the travois, so the crowd starts to gather to see what is there. As Emlyn works to skin one of the elk, Valgar wanders over and sidles up to her.
“What else were you doing out there in the woods, alone with three men?” Valgar sneers, “You sure seem awfully chummy with them now.”
Bloody up to her elbows from the messy work of skinning, Emlyn straightens and glares at Valgar.
“I do not owe you an explanation of my actions,” Emlyn says icily, “Not now. Not ever. If I hear another word from you, it won’t just be wolf’s teeth that I hang around my neck. I might feel compelled to add yours to the string. I suggest that you get out of my sight while you still can.”
Atres catches the angry tone from Nia and wanders up behind her, “Oh, look, the jealous twit is back. Still upset that we took her hunting instead of you?”
“Hunting?” Valgar sneers, “Is that what you call it in Harito?”
Atres’s posture and stance shift subtly, going from relaxed to something resembling a coiled spring.
“As a matter of fact,” Atres grins wolfishly as he slides smoothly between Emlyn and Valgar, “it is what we call it when someone bags four elk and a wolf. What is your problem? The lady made it clear to you earlier that she wasn’t interested. You think harassing her like this is going to get her to change her mind? How’s that worked out for you in the past, hmmm? What exactly have you been up to in that village of yours? Perhaps that’s something that the King’s Guard should look into, eh? Have you been bullying girls?”
From somewhere in the crowd, someone yells out, “He has. He’s an absolute ass.”
“That’s it,” Emlyn says firmly, “I’ve heard enough. Hold him.”
Quick as a snake, Atres grabs Valgar, and Korek moves to help him. Argonath watches, waiting to see what Emlyn is attempting. She grabs an empty pan and goes to the stream, filling it with fresh, running water before carrying it back to where Atres and Korek are holding Valgar. Invoking her Goddess and placing her hand in the water, Argonath sees the blue nimbus roll through the water, blessing it, and grows thoughtful. Valgar thrashes, but Emlyn proceeds calmly about her business since Atres and Korek seem to have him adequately restrained.
Emlyn looks at Oja and gestures at the mortar and pestle, “May I borrow that?”
Oja nods and hands it to her. Emlyn takes some of the ash from the cookfire, one of the wolf's teeth, and some sand from the stream bank. Grinding them down together, she mixes the powder with some of the newly consecrated holy water to make a paste. Taking her forefinger, she begins to chant and trace the mark on his forehead.
Oja whispers to Benger, “What’s she doing to him?”
“I’ve heard of it, but never seen a paladin who could do it,” Benger whispers back, “I think she’s Marking him.”
Some minutes later, sweat is rolling off Emlyn, and her face is showing the intense strain of working the lengthy and complex spell, so Benger steps up quietly behind her and heals her. Finally, there's a flash of light and a mark appears on Valgar’s forehead.
Grinning tiredly at Atres and Korek, she says, “You can let him go. He won’t be hurting anyone else. Just… Maybe step well away when you let him go.”
Atres and Korek release him and move quickly out of range.
Valgar lunges at her, “You bit....” before the Mark’s magic takes him and he falls, twitching in a heap, with sparks dancing over his skin.
“What did you do?” Atres asks her.
“It’s only the third one of those I’ve ever set,” Emlyn explains, “I wasn’t sure it would work since it's the first one since my new oaths.”
“But what is it?” Korek echoes.
“We call it a Mark,” Emlyn explains, “If he even thinks of harming anyone, he’ll get a nasty shock, almost like a tiny lightning strike. The worse the thing he thinks or tries to do, the stronger the effect will be. If he turns his life around and stops being such an ass, it might eventually fade in time and disappear completely. Rare, but not entirely unheard of.”
Some of the girls from his village cluster around him, giggling, before one starts to pelt him with pebbles.
Emlyn wades in, “I don’t like him any more than you, but that’s unfair. Be better than he is. Leave him to his punishment.”
Disappointed, the girls wander off, leaving Valgar twitching every time he tries to curse at them.
Atres crosses his arms and regards her with a grin, “You know that those girls will just pick back up once you’re out of sight.”
“That falls outside the scope of things I can control,” Emlyn shrugs, “I rather suspect he’s got a good bit of that due. He’s going to have to learn to be a lot nicer to people than he was in the past. They’ll tire of it eventually.”
“Why don’t you take a break,” Atres suggests, “and let Korek and me finish up the butchering. He and I can usually make a pretty quick job of it. You can get your big brother to keep watch while you wash up and put your dancing clothes back on.”