One Moo'r Plow

Cracked scars, fluid muscles, stalking forward on silent limbs, she approached. Sight of her shaved head, vibrant tatoos and distortions in the area around her triggered some faint recognition within Garek’s mind.

A Wyld Orc.

Far from home, but never long from danger. Gol nestled his head between two large paws and fell quiet, whimpers trailing off into silence. Artyom vanished as I stood, turned to face the enraged guest upon my land.

“You.” Her voice was restrained, measured as she regarded Le’rish.

“Me.” Le’rish shot back, her mood soured even further.

“You have failed, huntress.” The calm voice that came and the angry face it emanated from could not be any different. With a grunt, I fully rose and stared down at the woman who had just stormed onto my farm. It did not require great breadths of knowledge to realize who she was, or why she was here. And yet, I realized Ishila had never given me her mother’s name.

“Perhaps introductions are in order.” I rumbled. “I am Garek.”

“A weak name, for your kind.” The orc smiled through bared fangs. “Not Garek Bloodhewn, or Garek Skullcrusher?”

“I had several such names,” I smiled thinly in return, and such was true. “I chose to leave them behind.”

“I know of you,” Came the taut reply. “The one man whose praises by daughter would not stop singing of. I am Tehalis Warborn.”

“And we know each other.” Le’rish grunted, still hunched over in pain. “Loosely.”

And so we stood under the afternoon’s scorched heat, two friends and a mother, tenuously united by the same person.

“Could I offer you a seat?” I gestured towards and empty stump as the woman snorted.

“No. I am here to find my girl, not pass idle conversation in comfort.”

I could swear murder entered Le’rish’s eyes in that moment, only for her to choke it back down and remain calm.

“Of course,” I reassured her. “Everyone here wants to find Ishila.”

“Some more than others. I have need of you, minotaur. These adventurers my daughter was with. Tell me everything about them. Every small detail.”

I did so, to the best of my ability as I continued to clean Le’rish’s wounds. The glowering huntress sat quiet throughout, her body twitching on occasion as I dabbed at exposed muscle and nerves.

“A tiefling, an elf and a dwarf.” Tehalis grunted, restlessly running her thumb along an axeblade. “The camp says only the dwarf survived.”

“Do you plan to find him?” I questioned, handing Le’rish another small cup of milk to drink.

The orc stared at me long and hard before she replied, venom in her tone.

“I love my daughter very much, but I am no fool. No one touches dwarves. So it is written in the great book of wrongs beneath the Far Peaks.”

She spoke the words, yet all could hear her tone was not sincere.

“There is..a price to pay. For harming a dwarf. Any dwarf.” Le’rish grunted. “Even the outcasts.”

“For my girl, there is no sum too small.” Tehalis spoke, her eyes blank.

“I could perhaps offer some gold.” I suggested, only to be me with a raucous laugh from the orc.

“The price is not of gold, but blood. What use have the Underdark’s masters of a few golden coin when they sit upon the hoards of dragons slain, at the world’s wealth theirs?”

We left it at that.

“The dungeons itself?” I asked. “Last I know, Ishila was somewhere inside.”

“A mess. My husband will restructure the rubble. It must be sealed until proper defences are prepared.”

“With Ishila inside.” Le’rish spoke, her voice flat, devoid of any emotion.

That provoked something in Tehalis. The tall, imperious orc flared for just a moment, blood in her eyes, crimson spirits drifting around her. For an instant, I could see wrath and wroth approach, saw her want to lash out and hurt the huntress. A hand instinctively gripped at my missing claymore as I prepared for bloodshed.

Quickly, quietly, the moment passed. Her scent faded back to a still calm, and the spirits faded away.

“I love my daughter as much as a mother possibly can,” Came the low, serious growl. “But I will not be held to the deaths of hundreds, thousands if that dungeon breaks free. I will not be the one to bathe this land in blood if that evil wrenches free of its shackles.”

“Once the humans have prepared as best they can, and only then will the entrance be opened.”

“Ishila aside, why not entomb it forever?”

“And allow the dungeon to grow and expand uncontested until it is large enough to swallow the land whole?” There was derision in her tone now. “It must be dealt with. We had known there was a dungeon that slept at the peak, but had no idea of its true scope. An abandoned, sleeping infant, or so we thought. Neither of us went near it, lest our very presence cause it to stir.”

She stared flatly at Le’rish now.

“Instead, there was a guardian. One meant to keep intruders away. One that failed.”

“And what now?” I asked, still working away at Le’rish.

“Nothing. We let the humans continue their preparations. Stay here. Farm. Enjoy your peace while it lasts. But when the time is right, I will return and ask you to join us as we plunge into the dungeon’s guts and rip the life out of it.”

A few days ago, I would have refused. Told her I was but a farmer who wanted to peaceful life, though the world planned otherwise.

Now, I was not so sure.

“Wander in wisdom.” She spoke curtly. “I have found what I came for.”

She paused for a moment, half turned away.

“I am told you have..milk capable of healing most wounds.” Tehalis spoke after a moment. “I would like to see it.”

Artyom appeared from behind Gol as she spoke those words, and I nodded to him. A cup was drawn up and given to the orc. She sniffed at it, dipped a finger in and tasted a dollop. The paint on her face seemed to move and flow as she stood still, having consumed some of the milk.

“Power pervades this liquid. Divine might came to seal the flesh and heal all. Yet I cannot tell what deity it is drawn from. Curious.”

With that, she handed the cup back to Artyom, turned and strode away.

Leaving us to sit in silence. Only when she had left did Le’rish speak.

“Heal me, Garek. Fast. My hunt continues.”

“The dwarf. She seemed to think even touching him is a bad idea.” I grunted and began to clean what small wounds remained. Le’rish’s back, arms and front were a mass of barely healed flesh, still stained with dried blood. Her clothes were ragged, almost shredded. One could see that she cared little for that.

“Is. Horrible idea.” She grunted. Anyone asks, you had nothing to do with it. A price will be exacted, but they will not find me wanting.”

I did not press further, only did what I could as a friend and quietly mended her back to full.

“He took a horse last night. From the camp. Will already have been riding hard. Have a long road, long hunt ahead of me. But I will find him. Rip the beard hairs from his face. Tear the flesh off his skin. Make him tell me.”

“About Ishila?”

“That. Where they came from. Who told him about this place.”

I had one last gift for Le’rish, then.

“In that corral is a horse.” I grunted and pointed, bloodstained rag in hand. “Take it, and ride like the wind. I have saddlebags and all the necessary bits in the shed.”

The huntress staggered upright, her one good eye focused on me.

“Thank you.” Was all she spoke, then turned and bounded towards the herd where the horse grazed. I told Artyom to clean the mess up here and strode towards the storage shed to retrieve a saddle and reins for her. It smelled vaguely of dust as I wrenched open the door, carefully moved around empty pots and chillvines, then stooped to one of the saddles.

I should have checked these a while ago, I remembered. But it had always slipped my mind.

Now, I hauled up a pair of saddlebags, open them up and rummaged inside. Dried venison, a scribbled map, a small pouch with coins, a pair of hide gloves meant for human hands were what remained of a dead man’s possessions. I found no sign of Ironmoor’s green livery within.

What instead was found was a scroll that denoted the man was to be paid his weekly sum from the Hullbretch Watch.

This man had been a member of the town guard.

Something I would have known all along if I had bothered to examine these earlier.

With a frown of abject disgust, I emptied the saddle bags onto the ground, grabbed the saddle itself with one hand, the reins in the other and hauled everything back out.

Le’rish approached, horse led by its mane. That got a raised eyebrow from me, but the poor thing stayed right where it was once she let go.

“It’s gained some weight.” I noticed with a wince. “Hasn’t been ridden or exercised in some time. Don’t run it into the ground, okay?”

“Will try. No promises.” She grunted and took the saddle from me. She tossed it over and began to fasten the underside with quick, smooth movements. The creature bucked against the bit going into its mouth, but froze when the huntress snarled at it. After a tense moment, it timidly opened its mouth and let the bit slide past its teeth, then stayed in place as she fastened the reins.

Something about the huntress scared the horse, I could tell. Frightened the beast past the point of bolting away and right into submission. Its scent was terrified.

“Best of luck on your hunt.” I spoke quietly. “Come back in one piece.”

An empty eye socket stared at me, then bobbed as she nodded.

“I will find her. If that dwarf could teleport out, he can teleport back in. Wether or not he wants to.”

With that, she flicked the reins, dug in her heels and galloped off. Once again, I was left in silence, my thoughts to keep me company.

Ishila was alive, somewhere out there. She had to be. I did not want to imagine a world where such a bright, brilliant soul could be snuffed out in the blink of an eye.

I should have discouraged her from going. Should have trained her with sparring at least. Instead, I had been so focused on the dream of me avoiding bloodshed that I had neglected her.

Could have, Should have, Would have.

Useless phrases to wish for empty things. The time would come when I would delve into the dungeon proper. When I would take up the blade once more to strike down danger before it could rise up to strike down those I cared for.

I had been too late for Ishila.

But that would not happen again. Once more I was left with my thoughts, a host of revelations in mind as I stared out over crops that would soon be harvested, plants to be examined and cared for. And beneath it all, tunnels filled with ancient monsters that I would soon whet by blade upon.

So much for the quiet life.

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