The Sun slid down the remainder of the sky and began to settle behind the mountains; and in the winter twilight, Thork came unto the porch with Heido and Tai. There ensued a round of bowing, and the two villagers bustled off into the gloaming, Heido waddling, Tai hobbling, bowing to Elyn as they passed, smiles upon their faces.
Thork motioned the Princess to him, holding the door for her as she stepped in. The chamber smelled of spices and tea, and a fresh pot simmered upon the small clay brazier, glowing charcoal within.
“They will be bringing us food, Princess,” said Thork, “and pads for us to sleep upon, and blankets.”
Elyn was no longer angry, having had all afternoon to set her rude treatment aside. Besides, Thork was right: they didn’t know the ways of these villagers, and she had finally called to mind an old Jordian saying: When in Rhondor, be Rhondorian. “What did you get from them? — The trading, I mean.”
Thork sat down and poured two cups of tea, motioning Elyn to sit and take one. “Two pack ponies, two riding, four in all, each with tack and gear. Four weeks of supplies: rice, beans, tea, bacon, jerky, dried fish, onions, salt, hardtack, spiced honey, and the like for us; and oats and barley for the ponies. And oil for your lantern to light your way if we should again come into the dark.”
Elyn’s eyes widened in amazement, and she set her tea aside and clapped her hands, “Hai!” a smile on her face. “Thork, you are a marvel! All of that just for two tulwars, a dagger and long-knife, a helm, some second-rate armor, and. .” In the corner, heaped in a pile, was all the gear that she had brought in for trading. “. . and. .” Her gaze narrowed in suspicion. “Just what did you give them?”
“They had no use for the battle gear,” said Thork, clearing his throat.
“What did you barter away?” Elyn’s voice was sharp.
“The horse, Princess, and all its-”
“You gave away my horse?”
“Nay, Princess. I didn’t give it away. I traded-”
“For a pony?”
“For four ponies and four weeks of-”
“Gods, Thork, Harlingar do not ride ponies! Not even as children!”
When the servants brought the two demons their sleeping mats and blankets and evening meals, they sat on completely opposite sides of the room, glaring daggers at one another; and Haisu, Josai, and Meia quickly set the trays and blankets and mats down and scuttled out backwards, bowing and scraping as they went, the three sisters wanting to be far away before the two ired demons changed.
The next morning, armed and armored, Elyn and Thork set forth from the village, riding sturdy mountain ponies, sitting upon saddles covered with sheepskin, two pack ponies trailing behind upon long tethers, bearing their kits and provisions and the brigands’ War gear: two tulwars, a dagger, a long-knife, a helm, and two leather ring-mail shirts. Elyn, still angry, glared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge even the presence of the headman riding alongside upon a fine gelding, a great smile upon his yellow face. Old Tai hobbled out as they passed his hut, and he handed Thork a smooth, supple birch stick, some four feet long, the old Man’s head bobbing up and down knowingly. Thork took it and mumbled his thanks, tucking it through the thongs holding the blanket roll behind his saddle. And down the mountainside they rode, the villagers behind heaving a great sigh of relief, for the demons appeared to be leaving, and they had not changed a single time; and to be rid of them before they took it in their heads to do so, well, that was certainly a blessing in itself. Of course, there was still to be that demon horse among them, now ridden by the hetman, the brave, respectful, perhaps foolish hetman, who followed the white-skinned, green-eyed, redheaded, angry demon and the squat, broad, bearded, sad-eyed demon, all the way to the foot of the village trail, where he stopped and waved good-bye as they rode onward. But then Heido turned and spurred his great steed back up the path, the gelding grunting beneath his portly load; and with cries of terror and distress, the villagers scattered to all points, fleeing into their huts.
Throughout the long morning the two rode in silence, dismounting and walking now and again to give the rugged little mountain ponies a breather, and stopping once each hour to water them or to feed them a mouthful or two of grain.
And as the Sun passed into the zenith, Elyn was no longer angry, accepting instead that she must look the fool, perched as she was upon a horseling, her long legs dangling down, picturing it in her mind, picturing what it would look like if it were Mala instead, and suppressing laughter. And looking at Thork’s back as he rode before her, pack pony trailing behind-Ah, my rugged, honorable Dwarf, I cannot remain angry at you. You struck a better bargain by far than I could have hoped for. You even thought to get me lantern oil for the dark.
When they broke for their noon meal, Elyn smiled at Thork and straightforwardly apologized, and he heaved a great sigh of relief, though he did not cast away the stick.
That night, as the two slept, they did not see the great pair of crystal eyes peering into their camp from the dark.
The next day as they moved westward, Elyn said, “I remind you, Thork, that I must train in the wielding of the hammer. I but barely know how to hold one, for I specialized in the saber, in the bow, in long-knife and quarterstaff and lance and spear and sling.”
“Chariot, too,” laughed Thork, adding to her long list.
“Ah yes, chariot too.” Elyn smiled, thinking of Ruric. Ho, lass, the chariot too?. . toys raced during the midyear fest. . Warrior Maid charioteers be a thing o’ the past.
And so it was that Thork began training Elyn in the use of the Kammerling. While they rode he discussed with her the strategies and tactics in using a hammer; and during the times they stopped to rest the ponies, he stepped her through slow drills with the Kammerling, showing her rudimentary offensive and defensive moves and positions. She was amazed at the smooth feel and heft of the glamoured weapon, its touch and balance belying its timeworn, damaged look. Elyn had briefly trained in hammer battle under Ruric’s watchful eye-Come on, lass, ’tis not that heavy-yet her major preparation then had been on how to counteract the mauls-Aye, that be the right o’ it. Let it swing past, then cut and thrust-rather than how to employ them in combat. But now Thork began to show her the other side of hammer warfare, and started her upon exercises to perfect.
“We need build your arm strength, Princess,” mused Thork that evening, as they returned to the fire. “Wielding a hammer takes power as well as quickness, else the weight will drag you down.”
And toward evening they passed through a high-walled canyon filled with deep drifts-for it was yet the cold season-coming down out of the last of the mountains and out upon the snowy flats, miles of winter forest and open plains and rolling hills ahead ere they would reach the foothills of the Grimwall, and more miles through that range before coming unto Dragonslair.
And behind, on the canyon wall high above, stone quietly fissured and a crack eased open as the two rode past unheeding. And when they had ridden on, the rift closed, the cleft sealed, the stone was once more unblemished, and a distant knelling faintly echoed through the deep rock.
And so the days passed, the duo ever moving westward, Elyn training in hammer as they went, and building up the strength in her arms.
And each evening, as she curried the ponies, singing softly to them, Thork set up camp and kindled the fire and fixed the meals. And he would sit and stir the stew or soup, or-had he or Elyn brought down small game by bow or sling-cook meat above the flames. And Thork would listen entranced, catching glimpses of her face and eyes and graceful movements as she stepped among the steeds, caring for them. At times he would have to look away as she came to the fire, her beauty all too bright for his eyes. And she for her part watched him wielding the hammer as he illustrated a point, seeing his strength and quickness; or she listened as he fervently explained some detail, and saw his intensity and intelligence, and his rough-hewn gentleness. And she would sit at the fire and watch as he shaped wood with a knife, his fingers sturdy and capable, carving tiny animals to while away the evening, or making a flute that neither of them could play, though the notes were true.