|
|
This one goes to anyone who has suffered a racist attack.
When, long
ago, the Mavine had first built their settlements in the great peaks of the
Avinkazag, few truly realised how utterly barren those mountains could become
in the cold months of the year. In the depths of Vrozar no food could be found
anywhere, nothing would grow and all animals would flee to warmer places lest
they perish in the cold. Most of those few who had reached the mountains had
quickly turned back in face of such a place, and thus the village that the
traveller came was more of a hovel than a true village. Two dwellings, a stable
and a tavern. The traveller was painfully aware of the poverty of the place,
the first was that there was only a singe horse in the stable, and that the
buildings themselves were on the verge of collapse. The stable door had long
since fallen in and rotted, the few good pieces of wood having been stolen to
keep the other buildings up, but even this measure was too trifling to save the
place. A part of the tavern’s roof had long since fallen in. the traveller
pitied them, but they were a harsh people living in a harsh land, and she knew
all to well that harsh people could do harsh things, she loosened the straps
that held her axe as she walked towards the tavern. The snowfall was heavy as
was the wind, and she would be glad for a few minutes respite, she almost knew
that she would get little more than that in such a place.
As she neared the old gnarled
door she heard raised voices within. Hesitantly, she held back from the door
and for a few moments listened to the cries from within.
“Kill them, they are evil spawn!”
cried a woman with bitter intent in her voice.
“Slit their throats!” cried a
gruff voiced man, and he received several cheers for his words.
“They must not be allowed to
live!” cried another voice.
The traveller, deciding to find
out what was happening within, pushed open the door and entered the building.
As she did all grew silent and everyone turned to her. It was not that she was
unusually dressed, she wore a thick winter cloak and carried a pack with an
axe, none of which was unusual for one out on the road in winter. What was
unusual was seeing any travellers coming up there at that time of year, and it
was stranger to see any come alone.
“May the three towers shine upon
you.” Said the traveller in the usual Engradurian greeting, “but,” she added,
“Have I come at a bad time?”
“No, no not at all,” stuttered a man
who sat behind the bar.
“Well,” said the traveller, “may
I buy a drink?”
“Y-yes of course,” stammered the
man in reply.
As the man sorted drinks the
traveller looked around. The tavern looked even poorer from the inside. The
paint was peeling from the walls and the tables were rotting so bad that she
could smell it. Nine people were in the tavern besides her, four women and five
men, all glancing at her with distrust.
As the man finished pouring the
drinks, the traveller asked, quite bluntly, “what was all the shouting about?”
The bar man stuttered a few
words, but it was a man from one of the tables that spoke in a strong accent,
“We caught two of those flying beasts stealing food, got them tied up round
back ready for the chop,”
The
traveller, a little taken aback, asked, “You mean Nikarin?”
“No,” said the man, “We would
have had to kill them at once. No we got two of the other ones, Romine.”
“You’re not going to kill Romine
are you?” shouted the traveller, seemingly mortified.
“Damn right we are,” shouted
another man, “we got little enough up here as it is without those little
bastards stealing it!”
“You cannot!” shouted the
traveller, seemingly in despair, “here, tell me what they stole, I shall pay
you for it if you let them go.”
“I’m sorry my lady,” said the
man, not sounding sorry at all, “We live rough enough lives up here as it is,
without thieves taking what we do have. we need to make an example, they will
die.”
“They were
probably starving!” shouted the traveller, “here, twice what they stole!”
“Why?”
asked a woman, clearly showing anger, “You have no reason to save them…or do
you?”
“The
Romine live hard enough lives as it is without people like you alienating hem,
forcing them to cower away in the shadows. You damage them enough without
killing them.”
By now several other people had
gathered around her. They seemingly found her words offensive in some way,
either that or they were just looking for trouble.
“Well,” said one of the group,
“if you are so interested in giving money away to a needy cause, why not give
it to us. That was we may forget your insults and let you leave this place
alive.”
The traveller smiled a cruel
smile, “I would like to see you try and stop me.”
In a split second she pulled free
her axe just in time to face her first assailant – a woman holding a crude
spear. The traveller effortlessly pushed the spear away from her with her left
hand, while the axe in her right hand proceeded to sever the woman’s head from
her body. Rapidly turning to watch her back, she tore open a man’s chest with
an upward swing, the limp body blocking another, who was quickly torn open by
the traveller’s axe.
Terrified by this unexpected
resistance, the rest of the people fled from the building, leaving three of
their fellows dead or dying.
The traveller, axe still in hand,
moved to the door at the back of the building. She opened it and was faced with
the full fury of the blizzard. She was also faced by the two Romine. They were
a boy and a girl of around thirteen or fourteen years, newly winged by their
sight. It was clear that their relatives had driven them away. both looked as
if they had not eaten more than scraps for days..
“Poor things,” said the traveller
as she knelt down and untied them.
“Do you speak Engradurian?” asked
the traveller.
“Yes,” replied the girl quietly.
“You did not know what you were
did you?” asked the traveller. The two Romine shook their heads. The traveller
cured, “Poor things indeed.”
When they were free, she gave
each a little food from her pack, and said to them, “Go now, and take care of
each other, go north, beyond Engradure, there you will find your own people,
they will help you.”
She walked out of the snow and
into the main room, only to find the main door barred. It was not a vengeful
villager, but a Nikarin, which was picking clean the bones of one of them.
The children’s instincts motioned
them forwards, but the traveller held them back, “Its mine,” she said.
She strode forward, and as the
beast motioned towards her she muttered some words under her breath, and took
an almighty swing at the beast. Its arms and torso were cut in half by the
sheer power of it. But she had not finished. She went up to the body of the
creature, and without saying a word, she angrally hacked the body to pieces.
The children just stood there in silence.
Finally she stopped, and wiping
the blood from her face, she cursed, “Bloody fools, they were two busy arguing
over how to kill children that they didn’t post guards against the real
danger.” She shook her head, and then wiped her axe clean on an old rag. She
placed the weapon back in its sling, and walked to the door before turning
around, “And don’t steal anything else, it is not becoming of your race.” And
then she was gone.
But the
children, realising that no ordinary person could have killed a Nikarin with so
much anger, ran after her shouting. But when they reached the door, she was
gone.
Humans
fear what they don’t understand
Humans
fear what is different
Humans fear their
imaginations