Mud and Magic Ch. 06

She felt even lighter than the last time he had carried her, back when they had shocked the whole family into silence. Fighting back the tears, Rhys made his way to the courtyard and around the house, until he found the space just below her window. He carefully placed her onto the ground and dashed back inside, to fetch the oil lamp. His way back led him to the stables. No animals were left -- probably taken by Carver's men -- but the tools he had taken from Old Man Harrol's shack were still where he had left them. Armed with a shovel, Rhys returned to where he had laid down Gran and started digging. Within minutes, he was drenched. If from sweat, rain or tears, he didn't know and he was beyond caring anyway. The brutal work of fighting the soggy earth allowed his brain to shut off, concentrating only on the next jab of the spade.

"I don't know who did it and why," Rhys snarled, at no one in particular, "but I will find the bastard and make him pay." The spade clanged off a buried piece of rock, jarring him violently. Rhys cursed, levered the rock out of the shallow ditch he had managed so far and resumed digging. "And once that bastard is dead, I'll get Carver. I will kill that smug son of a bitch!"

"Need help with that?"

Rhys shot upright, brandishing the spade like a cross between a staff and a sword. "Who's there?"

"Just an old half-orc looking for a missing student," Thurguz rumbled solemnly. He entered the lamp's feeble circle of illumination, wrapped in a dark cloak.

Rhys exhaled shakily, his knees suddenly fighting to keep him upright. "You."

"Who did you expect? Carver?"

"Have you seen what happened here? I wouldn't put it past him if he showed up to inspect the devastation." Rhys jabbed the spade into the earth.

"This is not Carver's style," Thurguz said quietly.

"No?" Rhys glared at him. "Some passing bandits then?"

"Faedal, more likely."

Rhys growled, chucking a big clump of earth onto the steadily growing pile.

"What are you doing there?" Thurguz asked.

"Digging a grave for my Gran. Figured instead of sulking, I could honor what little family I had," Rhys snarled, each sentence punctuated by another jab with the spade.

Thurguz muttered a spell and a faintly glowing shovel appeared in his hands. He joined Rhys in the ditch and attacked the earth as well.

"You know, you might want to bury the rest of your family too," Thurguz eventually said. By now, they were waist-deep in the ground and thoroughly soaked and mud-caked.

"Give me one good reason," Rhys spat, heaving a spade full of earth over his shoulder. "What did they ever do for me? Except make my life a living hell?"

"Their treatment, in a roundabout way, made you who you are today," Thurguz simply said. "Without them, you wouldn't be such a headstrong lad."

"Me? Headstrong?" Rhys tried to laugh but only a strangled sob escaped his lungs. "What can I even do? I wasn't here when this massacre happened! Maybe it's all because of me..."

He crumpled to his knees in the shallow grave. "Maybe this would never have happened if I hadn't left the village in the first place."

Thurguz grabbed Rhys by the scruff of his neck and hoisted him to his feet. "Listen. You were not the cause for this massacre. The two people in the village green were. That's why they are so prominently displayed."

"Dara? Daffyd? What would they do?"

"Celeste hasn't come to yet so I don't know all the details. But from her earlier reports, I know that Daffyd in particular had little patience with how Carver's men conducted themselves. If I had to guess, his temper got the better of him."

"But Dara... they proclaimed her to be a murderer."

"We need to wait until Celeste is able to shed light on this whole situation. But rest assured that you are not the reason for this devastation. On occasion, Faedal deems it a useful tactic to scare surrounding villages into obedience by leveling a troublesome one, as an example."

"Is there no end with that man?" Rhys screamed. "First Mirrin, then Elara, the poor elves he slaughtered below Storm Harbor - then my whole bloody village? How much more until it is enough?"

"We will get him. In time."

Rhys shrugged Thurguz' hand off him, his own grief forgotten. The rage was back, hotter and stronger than before. Now it had a target. Rhys exhaled slowly, his whole body quivering. "Listen, Thur... Master. I hereby vow, on the grave of my dead Gran, that I will not rest until Faedal is a lifeless piece of flesh. I will personally kill that evil bastard, even if it is the last thing I'll be doing."

Thurguz took a step back and sighed. "I wish it would not have come to this, lad. One as young as you should not carry that much hatred in their heart. But if you're hell-bent on ending Faedal, I will make sure you will be as best prepared as you can."

"And I will not chicken out, Master. When there's a chance, I will take it, no matter the cost," Rhys snarled, his eyes aglow with the fires of hell.

Another sigh from the bottom of Thurguz' soul. "I'll make sure to let everyone know." So you don't get yourself killed before your time, the old half-orc thought.

"Now, let us lay your family to rest. With just two spades and this thick earth, we'll be dead before they are interred." Thurguz clambered form the grave and held out his hand. "Come."

Rhys let himself be pulled up but said nothing.

Thurguz closed his eyes and recited a long, complicated spell. He then pointed at the mound of wet earth. For a moment, nothing happened but then the earth began to move, reshaping itself into a stocky, vaguely humanoid shape, with two stumpy legs, a round ball for a torso and long, massive trunks for arms. Last, two brightly glowing slits opened in the upper part of the torso. These 'eyes' focused on Thurguz and the thing bowed ungainly.

"Widen and deepen the pit to fit nine people, please," Thurguz said, indicating the grave. Again, the thing bowed.

It stood frozen in place and Rhys watched, puzzled. "What is happening?" he whispered.

"This earth elemental will expedite the grave digging a fair bit," Thurguz whispered back. "Watch closely."

It was difficult to see in the light of the sputtering oil lamp but the dimensions of both the grave and the elemental began to shift. The pit lengthened and widened, while at the same time, the elemental grew in size. Eventually, the eyes shifted in a motion akin to someone cocking his head. The grave was now a ten-foot square pit.

"Yes, that shall do. Come, Rhys. Let us fetch your family."

Together, they dragged the bodies of Padec, Mara, Lissy, Missy, Ulf, Delf, Rowlf and Gorf to the grave and lowered them into the ground. Last came Gran.

"Any last words you'd like to say?" Thurguz asked.

"Only one." Rhys said. "Goodbye."

"Fair enough." The half-orc motioned for the earth elemental. It seemed to melt right before their eyes while at the same time, the ground swallowed the corpses. Less than a minute later, the grave was closed and the elemental had vanished, leaving behind a square, polished stone plate.

"I'll make an inscription," Thurguz said. "Douse the lights in the house, grab anything you'd want to bring along and meet me back here."

"What will you write?" Rhys asked. "I have no idea."

"Don't worry. Now, mush."

Shrugging, Rhys returned to the house and doused the lights. He briefly pondered if there was anything he needed or wanted. Only one thing came to mind.

Snarling, he grabbed the elven pitcher and upended its contents into the fireplace, killing the last bit of light. Rhys turned on his heels and left the house. Thurguz waited for him by the grave. He had refilled the oil lamp and placed it upon the stone plate. In the flickering light, Rhys could read the words "In memory of a family unjustly butchered," carved into the stone by unknown means.

"What do you have there?" Thurguz asked, curiously eyeing the long-necked pitcher dangling from Rhys' arm.

"Something to remember my father by. Something to remind me never to become like him," Rhys growled. "Master, we don't have anything left to do here. Let's go back to the tower. Let's go home, please."

* * * *

"How is she?" Rhys asked, pacing the bedroom which now housed Mirrin and Celeste. In his absence, a second bed had been brought in. Mirrin looked shockingly small on the large mattress, her skin almost as pale as the white linen of her pillow. She didn't move under the comfortable duvet.

Idunn sighed and put down the wet cloth she had used to swab Celeste's face.

"The same she was five minutes ago, Rhys." She turned away from Celeste's bed and intercepted him, planting a hand on his chest. "And after the healing spells Elara has lavished on her and my herbal tea to help her find a bit of rest, she won't wake up until tomorrow, or even later. You pacing like a caged animal helps no one."

"But I need to be here when she wakes up."

Idunn looked him up and down, from his mud-encrusted boots to the pale face with wide, flickering eyes to his wild hair. She sighed again and shook her head.

"What you need, my boy, is a few hours of sleep. I'm surprised you can even stand, after what you've been through in the last twelve hours."

"But-!"

"No 'buts.' Go to your room. Eat something then sleep. I solemnly promise I'll send someone over to fetch you should anything happen to your friend or sister." She lanced Rhys with a steely gaze. "No arguments. This is an order from your teacher, get it?"

Behind Rhys, the door opened. Thurguz, looking not much fresher than the boy, slowly crossed the threshold. "Anything new?"

Idunn groaned. "Not you too. But since you're here, be so kind and take Rhys to his room. He needs rest almost as badly as you do. But I've given up on trying to be your voice of reason about twenty years ago."

"Yes, ma'am," Thurguz grumbled, placing a large paw on Rhys' shoulder. "You heard the lady."

"And Thurguz?" Idunn added, her voice low. "I really don't want to gloat but I have told you for how long that we need a dedicated infirmary?"

"From the moment we started this project, if I recall." Thurguz coughed softly. "Point most definitely taken."

"Good. If you can find the time, try to add a room to the ground floor where we can treat the injured you said would never happen under your watch." She leveled a pointed gaze at the two beds. "I'll have Elara and Galdor prepare more supplies. Something tells me these two won't be the last."

"I'll see to it."

"Tomorrow. If I find our bedroom empty once Elara takes over for me, I'll have Borna drag you back to bed by your topknot, you hear?"

Thurguz raised his hands in a warding gesture. "Anything but that, dear Idunn. I'll wait for you, promise."

"That would be a first," she muttered. "Now, our young sorcerer."

"Sure." He turned Rhys to face the door and pushed. "Let's go."

"Uh... sure."

Together they walked until they ended up in front of Rhys' door.

"I have a feeling I wasn't supposed to hear that," Rhys said, a weak smile tugging on his lips.

"When Idunn is at her most motherly, she can be the cutest grizzly bear," Thurguz said, his eyes lighting up. "She has taken on the responsibility of being my voice of reason, a job I would not wish upon my worst enemy." He chuckled wearily. "A job my worst enemy once had," he added quietly.

Rhys' eyes went wide. "You ... and Carver?"

Thurguz erupted in laughter. "Hell no. Not what you are thinking. Is that Galdor filling your head with images of men fucking each other? Carver simply was the counterweight to my youthful enthusiasm, much as Idunn now is the counterweight to my obsessions. Well, and...," Thurguz lowered his gaze. "She and I do share the bed on occasion. When I find the time."

"When she has Borna drag you into the bedroom?"

Another laugh, much less strained this time. "Well, that was a first. And having said that, I'd better go now, before our demon princess tracks me down. Sleep tight, Rhys. You did good today."

"I'm not so sure about that," he muttered. "But thanks."

Rhys pushed open the door to his room. Sen had lit all the lamps and the fireplace, so it was comfortably warm. He shrugged out of his clothes and tossed them in the laundry box then shuffled into the bathroom. His whole body felt clammy and cold despite the time he had spent in the impromptu infirmary so he decided to pour himself a bath. He stayed in it long enough to warm up a bit and get rid of all the dirt.

He had just dried himself off when someone knocked on his door. He quickly wrapped a robe around himself.

"I'm not really in the mood," he said.

The door opened and Hilgrun entered, bearing a large platter full of steaming food. Under one arm, she carried two goblets and a large wine skin was slung over her shoulder. She wore her customary outfit of loose pants and a furry vest struggling to keep her bust contained. Her hair was collected in a loose braid and hung to her belt.

"I know," she said, closing the door with the heel of her low, fur-lined boot. "And that's why I am here."

Rhys shook his head. "I don't understand."

Hilgrun gently sat down the platter and the goblets on the table near the fireplace. "Sit," she ordered, pointing at one armchair.

"A subtle 'no' doesn't work with you, huh?" Rhys asked.

Hilgrun shot him a fleeting smile. "Listen. You went through hell today. As your battle-bound friend, I can't let you suffer alone. My honor forbids that."

The corners of Rhys' mouth twitched. "You could tell your honor to shove it where the sun don't shine."

Hilgrun crossed the room and pulled herself up to her full, impressive height. "Don't insult my honor, whelp," she snarled. A bit milder, she added. "If it makes you feel better, you can have the first punch." She pointed at her chin.

Rhys paled. "I-... uh... forget I said anything."

"What? A moment ago you looked like you wanted to floor me. Come on now, don't get me all stirred up for nothing," she growled, raising her fists.

"Wait, wait... can't we talk about this like adults?" Rhys asked, taking a step backwards. Hilgrun followed until her breasts were level with his face.

All too soon he had run out of room, his calves bumping into the seat of his armchair. She growled menacingly.

"I know!" Rhys said, raising his hands. "You're offering a choice between spending an evening feasting with you or a fisticuff, right? I'll take the feast! The feast!"

Hilgrun's growl vanished, replaced by a crafty smile. She poked Rhys' chest with two fingers, sending him into the armchair. "And I won," she announced triumphantly.

"You set me up?"

"I wouldn't say that. Hagazz calls that 'forcing an enemy to adapt to your tactics,' whatever that means. But I slowly get around to his way of thinking," Hilgrun said, sinking into the other armchair. She slid the wine skin off her shoulder and poured thick, golden mead into the goblets. Then she swept her hand over the platter.

"A traditional feast for the dead. Spicy meat, red vegetables, hot sauce and bread."

"You don't expect me to offer eulogies for every one they butchered in my village, do you?" Rhys asked. His stomach growled in anticipation, despite his mixed feelings. He plucked a drumstick off the platter and bit into it, regretting his haste almost immediately. It was seasoned to just below pain threshold, with hot peppers and some other spices he didn't recognize. But they burned hotter than any furnace he had ever been close to.

"Only for the ones you cared for," Hilgrun said, carefully dabbing at her eyes with her free hand. "There had to be at least one person in your village."

Rhys ate slowly. After the first horrid shock, his mouth adapted to the fire and spice, allowing him to taste some of the meat and veggie flavors underneath all that fire. Chasing down a few bites with chunks of bread helped mitigate the inferno as well.

"Yes. Three people, in fact."

"Those crucified and...?"

"My Gran."

"That's plenty. When we have to mourn the dead, it's one for each warrior or the feast would drag on forever," Hilgrun said, chewing. "So... the woman."

"Dara?"

She nodded.

Rhys closed his eyes. Dara. A black gulf of desperation opened up in his stomach, threatening to swallow him whole. He helped the last bite of food down with a long swig from the goblet, trying not to choke on the thick lump in his throat. Hilgrun stood up and slapped him between the shoulder blades, nearly toppling him from his armchair.

Rhys gasped air into his lungs. "She... she was the first girl I loved, I think. Dara was a bit older than me and she never was mean to me." Rhys shook his head. "So many happy memories... my first kiss... or the dances on Midsummer. It was always Dara." Hot tears spilled down his cheeks, if from the food or his own grief, he didn't know. Didn't care, either. "I was with her during my last night in the village, before Thurguz took me in." His voice broke.

Hilgrun grinned. "She must have been a damn good teacher. Elara won't shut up about you."

Rhys blushed, his grief forgotten for a moment. "No idea, honestly."

The barbarian reached across the table, placing his knee in a vise-like grip. "Accept praise when it is given. She speaks very highly of you and Elara normally doesn't gush over her lovers." Her teeth flashed. "Makes me wonder, really. But you know what to do." She patted his knee and sat back. "Now, the huge man."

"Daffyd."

"He looked like he gave them a run for their money."

"He was Dara's older brother. Strongest bloke I ever knew. If there was someone in the village able to get my brothers off me then it was him. Used to be a mercenary before he took over the inn. I wonder what he did."

"Something which got him killed," Hilgrun said, raising her goblet. "Takes guts to walk into your demise open-eyed."

"What makes you think he didn't die on the cross?"

"I've seen my fair share of battles, Rhys," Hilgrun said, sipping her mead. "He was dead before they put him up there. Unlike your Dara, poor lass."

"One more reason to kill Faedal," Rhys snarled. He balled his fists, the nails digging deep into his palms.

"Now... what about your Gran? Why not your mother or father? Don't you honor your elders?"

"What's there to honor?" Rhys hissed. The rage felt much better than grief. It gave him strength. He took a large bite from another piece of meat, barely noticing the fire exploding in his mouth. Another long pull from his goblet too.

"My father was a bitter, old man. I guess he tried to keep everyone happy, or most everyone. The farm ran as well as it could, given the fact that Carver bled us dry year by year and the family, more or less, had always something to eat. But he worked everyone ragged and since I'm no big, burly lad, I got to feel his anger more than any other."

"I wonder why your mother didn't intervene on your behalf," Hilgrun said.

"Because she had given up a long, long time ago. She was spent. When she wasn't pregnant, she was nursing one of us. And when she dried up, she just stopped caring at all. She cooked and cleaned and that was it." Rhys wolfed down a piece of bread. "I can't even remember them arguing over anything. Or them talking to each other."

Hilgrun shivered. "Must have been colder than my namesake's ice caverns around them."

"It would have been much, much worse if not for Gran," Rhys said. "She somehow was able to get father to back off me and Mirrin. And she taught me so much."

"Like reading a dead script? Elara told me," Hilgrun said, smiling.

"Not only that, but basic decency and all that. No one else but Dara or Celeste gave a damn."

"I wish I could have talked to her. She sounded like a wise woman I'd have loved to meet."

Rhys smiled. "She would have liked you immediately, I'm sure."