Hellrien stretched up slowly and removed her hat with her left hand. She stared into the brigand’s black eyes. They were at the level with her own.
”Is that so?” Hellrien said brusquely. ”If I told you that I have a piece of dirt in my eye, would you move?”
The insult caused the brigand’s eyes to flare up. Hellrien heard the spectators gasp their breaths in astonishment. The moment the club in the young man’s hand moved, Hellrien jolted forward.
She struck the club from his hand, grabbed him by his embroidered leather vest and gave him a vibrant cuff on both ears. The brigand’s head swung left and right, and blood spurted from the corners of his mouth.
”I’ll teach you how to hit your women”, Hellrien said coldly. Gradually something cold and hard came over her. She knew she had just made a mortal enemy, but didn’t care about it at the moment.
A flood of curse words spurted from the brigand’s cracked lips. He threw himself on the ground, reaching for his club. Hellrien allowed him to grab it before she kicked it from his hand. Howling with rage the brigand attacked her. Hellrien swung her head as quick as a lightning from one side to the other, and the missed punches grazed her shoulders. Then she took a quick step forward, arched her back and struck a fierce hook into the brigand’s precordium. With a moan he sunk to his knees. He remained hunched for a few seconds. Then he fell face down to the ground.
Hellrien took a step backwards. There was deathly silence among the spectators.
”Kill him, lady”, the woman yelled, overwrought, ”kill him! Or else he will kill me… and maybe you too!”
Hellrien glanced at the spectators. Three brigands – every one of them armed to the teeth – stared at her attentively.
”He’s dangerous”, the woman pleaded. ”Ask them!”
”Is that so? Is the ’lady-killer’ over there dangerous, fellows?”
Two of the men returned her smile, full of malicious glee over seeing their friend beaten up by a woman. They were the kind of men who respected only strength, and the misfortune of their friend aroused no sympathy in them, only contempt. One of them said:
”He’s pretty handy with a knife and a club, but can’t hold his own in a fist fight. But you’re gorgeous… I would take you under my tarp anytime!”
The man groped his crotch. Hellrien stifled a shudder, turned and walked back to her horse. The beaten brigand lied unconsciously on the ground. The woman remained sitting in the dirt and looked after her. Two of the brigands shuffled after Hellrien. She kept a wary eye on them from the corner of her eye.
”Are you sticking around for a while?” asked one of them, a relatively young man with an ugly knife scar above his eyes.
”I might. So what?”
He pointed his finger over his shoulder. ”When Kyle the Snake comes to, he’ll come after you. We don’t get much entertainment here these days”, he added, as if as an explanation.
Hellrien took the reins. ”Can I join your campfire?”
”Sure thing.”
”Thanks”, Hellrien said lightly and walked her horse over to a tree. One of the men had seemingly paid no attention to the fight. He was still sitting by the campfire, calmly roasting a carcass that could have belonged to a small buck over the fire. He had red hair and red beard, and Hellrien noticed he was staring at her from under his brows.
Hellrien tied her horse loosely to a tree branch, dusted her dress with her hat and walked over to the campfire. The man with a red beard rotated the carcass and poured grease on the delicious, golden brown roast. Another man approached sat down by the fire. By now Hellrien had been able to get a good look of the brigands. They were all armed, but their weapons were primitive and chiep – clubs, maces and bows, even one rusty sword. Some also had knives hanging from their belts. Most were dressed in worn woolen tunics and trousers and dirty, ragged leather armors. Dangerous foes against lone travelers for sure, but they wouldn’t stand a chance against any armed escort worth a piece of silver, Hellrien surmised.
”Welcome, miss”, said the redbeard with a smile, revealing two rows of surprisingly white teeth. ”Dinner’s almost ready. Would you want something to drink while we wait?”
Hellrien nodded and sat down.
”Dwarven brandy okay with you?”
”Yes please.”
The man handed her a flask. Hellrien took it and chugged down a big mouthful. The redbeard smiled, satisfied. Hellrien took another sip before handing the flask back. Then she loaded her pipe and looked about. Two of the brigands were still standing and talking on the spot where she had struck down Kyle the Snake. His friends had dragged him on a mattress where he now lied. Hellrien pulled a long breath of smoke into her lungs. She had seen men like that before – young, arrogant and devilish. They were handy with their weapons of choice and overflowing with confidence that could break down at any adversity, giving way to a stalking, vengeful assassin. But the circumstances were different here. There had been too many wittnesses to the beating. If Snake wanted to reaffirm his position in the eyes of his peers, it would have to happen out in the open, with everyone watching. Hellrien had no doubts it wouldn’t happen. She smoked calmy and kept her eye on the two brigands preparing the roast. Redbeard stood up and pushed the blade of a long knife into the carcass. Then he smiled, satisfied.
Every brigand except Snake came over to the campfire with their tin plates. Large chunks of meat were carved off the carcass. The brigands babbled enthusiastically and smacked their lips. The whole bustle seemed so cosy, but Hellrien felt a strange squeeze in her stomach. She took another drink from the flask, but no more after that.
”What piece would you like, lady?” asked Redbeard.
”Neck.”
”Very well!”
Hellrien ate the delicious meat with good appetite. Redbeard kept staring at her the whole time, and twice he smiled at her. After a brief moment of hesitation Hellrien responded to the smile. In lawless bands living outside the society and dominated by men the only protection a woman could get was picking herself a ’husband’ – either that or they would all take her in turns, if she was going to stick around. And for the information she was after she might have to stay a while.
”I like feisty women”, Redbeard said with a smile, ”but you’re in a deep trouble now. Kyle is extremely dangerous. I advice you to jump on your horse and trot away while you still can.” He carved himself another piece of meat.
Hellrien chewed.
”So I’ve heard”, she mumbled with a mouth full of food. ”Pass me the flask, will you?”
Redbeard shook his head incredulously. ”So you just sit there and eat and booze while Kyle the Snake wants you dead?”
”I don’t booze. I just want a little sip.” Hellrien reached for the flask. She could see in the man’s eyes that she was acting ridiculously, but her stomach cramped even harder. She kept glancing over her shoulder.
”I thought you’d be on your horse and miles away already, driving the beast to death.”
”But then I would have missed the roast”, Hellrien said, pointing at the plate with her fork. Damn it – why wouldn’t Kyle make his move already? Darkness would fall within an hour. How badly was he hurt?
”Lady”, said Redbeard, ”what’s your name?”
”Hellrien.”
Redbeard leaned backwards. His eyes were gleaming. ”Everyone is watching you”, he said quietly. ”They know you won’t live to see the sunset. For me that would be such a shame.”
Hellrien was finished. She set the plate down next to her and forced her hand to be steady as she passed the flask back to the man.
”Best damn roast I’ve tasted in a long time”, she said with a smile. ”Cheers, mister…?”
”Ozzie Emyrson. Cheers, Hellrien.”
Hellrien smiled to Ozzie. ”Now I need a puff of pipe-weed.” She started loading her pipe.
”You are mad!” Ozzie growled. ”A raving lunatic! He will kill you and make a purse out of your tits! And I can’t help you – I won’t! Even Joan Darkhand and Harmon Rushes avoid him!”
Hellrien lit her pipe and stared at Ozzie through a cloud of smoke.
”You won’t help me?” she queried indifferently. ”Where are all the chivalrous men these days?”
”Chivalry? Here? Don’t make me laugh!” But Ozzie wasn’t laughing. ”For the love of Valar, woman… get out of here!”
”Don’t you like me?” Now Hellrien had had enough of this farce. She looked over her shoulder and saw that Kyle wasn’t lying on the mattress anymore. He was standing over by the trees near Hellrien’s horse. Oh well – there was only one way out of this situation now…
”Excuse me, but the nature’s calling”, she said bemoaningly. ”All this excitement has messed up my stomach. See you in a bit though.”
”Good bye, Hellrien. It was a pleasure.”
Hellrien stood up and smiled to him, then turned and started walking towards her horse.
The sun was low above the western sky. The trees cast erratic shadows against the craggy rock face. It was deathly silent. Everyone knew what was about to happen. Everyone was waiting. The cramp in her stomach eased up. Slowly and calmly she approached her horse and the trees and bushes of long grass behind it. Then she saw a slender, dark figure sneak out from behind a tree, and she stopped. Hellrien pursed her lips. She was not far away from the horse and the swords in the blanket roll. Kyle was holding a knife in his hand, and nothing else. Slowly and steadily she moved closer to the man and the horse.
”You’re quite close enough, whore!” Snake yelled suddenly, surprised by Hellrien’s way of reacting. He had expected her to flee or beg for her life, not carry on walking towards him. Jarringly he realized that Hellrien’s move had positioned her within arm’s reach of the swords.
Hellrien pulled them out of the bedroll.
Kyle took a step back, hesitating. No matter how good he was with a knife, even a complete rookie with two swords would have a tremendous edge against a knife because of their longer reach. But he couldn’t afford to be humiliated by Hellrien again, or he would be a laughing stock for the rest of his days. The two circled each other, with Kyle attempting to keep Hellrien out of sword’s reach and Hellrien keeping her eyes focused on the knife. She saw Kyle’s right hand twitching and instictively knew that he was going to throw it.
”You shouldn’t have hit me, whore!” Kyle the Snake yelled. ”I’m going to gut you like a fish and make pouches out of your teats, like I did with the last whore who insulted me!”
Hellrien’s tension went off. She knew Kyle’s nerves were about to snap. He would be an easy kill – this was not going to be a fight, but an execution.
Kyle the Snake’s right shoulder pulled back.
Then his hand moved, faster than eye.
Hellrien changed her mind in the last second and swung her blade into his right shoulder. It sunk deep into flesh and bone. Kyle the Snake fell down, screaming like a wild animal. Appalled, he crawled towards the knife, reaching out his left hand. Hellrien stepped closer.
”Don’t do it”, she said calmly.
Cursing like a maniact the brigand grasped the knife.
Hellrien swung the blade down. Kyle’s left hand seemed to leap off the wrist. Blood spurted out of the stump. He tried to thwart the bloodflow with his right hand, squealing quietly and hideously. Hellrien turned and walked back towards the campfire.
She wiped the blood off the blades with her ragged apron. A couple of brigands behind her rushed to aid their wounded comrade. When Hellrien stopped to look over her shoulder, she saw them applying a bandage around the stump. She could hear his screams. He might live, but his brigand days were likely over for good.
Hellrin shrugged and took another step towards the campfire. She detected something moving from the corner of her eye. She spun around like a cat, swords ready to strike.
”Oh… lady…”
Hellrien stopped the blade in the last moment. Cold fear cramped her stomach. The woman had been a hair’s breadth away from death.
”Don’t ever approach me like that again!” Hellrien snapped.
”Please forgive me”, she stuttered, ”but I had to come over to thank you…”
A sudden bout of nausiousness flushed over Hellrien. It was a reaction to the fear, tension and bloodshed now that it was all over. She felt like throwing up, but forced herself to say:
”That’s all right. No need to thank.” She shut her mouth and turned around. She needed to be alone. To sit down.
The woman followed her. ”If there’s anything I can do for you… my name’s Helen… ask…”
For a moment it felt like everything was stopping. All the faces, eyes… hands… the whole world. Suddenly faces turned away, eyes looked away, hands moved, world spun around.
Hellrien walked calmly over to the campfire and sat down. She was as pale as a ghost. There were a tiny furrows of sadness, perhaps desperation too, in the corners of her mouth that made her look almost vulnerable for a moment. Kyle’s screams filled the air still. One brigand was heating a knife blade in the fire. They were going to cauterize the stump, Hellrien realized through the fog in her brain.
”You alright?”, asked Ozzie suddenly.
Hellrien smiled faintly. ”Yes.”
Ozzie shook his head slowly. ”Who are you?”
”Hellrien.”
”That’s just a name.”
”That is me.”
”Kyle has friends.”
”Do I?”
”You know you do. I can’t hide anything. That’s my weakness.”
”Depends on what you’re trying to hide.”
Ozzie’s nostrils grew wide. Hellrien knew that she now had at least one friend in this camp, an ally she could count on watching her back. Perhaps two.
”Can I have some brandy, Ozzie?”
”For sure. We both need it – a lot!”
They toasted to each other. It was already dark. A horse neighed somewhere.
Time passed by. Noises and voices quieted down as the brigands crawled under their tarps one by one. Only Hellrien, Ozzie and the sentry were awake. The campfire was still burning. Everything looked different in the fading light before the embers died out. If one could only hope enough, everything would turn beautiful again.
The Créoth harvested the heads of their victims. The wights had feasted on the corpses, gnawing them partially to the bone. Tracks. Pendants. Jewels. Dried blood covering the platform where two Eglain had been tortured to death.
No more brandy. She had had enough.
”Where are you going to sleep?”
”I have a bedroll.”
”Hellrien… if you want…”
”I do.”
She collected the reins, saddle and bedroll. With the swords and the bedroll under her left arm Hellrien walked in the darkness. Ozzie’s arm wrapped around her shoulders. She smiled in the dark. Those shadows over there… was it an ambush?
”What’s wrong with you, Hellrien?”
”The brandy.”
Ozzie had red hair. He had red beard. His mouth was wide and strong. His eyelids were heavy. He was strong, kind and a good companion. Perhaps he could even make her sleep.
”What’s this?”
”What this?”
”On your back. Here… and here!”
”Scars.”
”Yeah, but how did you get them?”
”I was reckless as a child.”
They lied still together. Now – afterwards – they could lie and drowse and talk. Share thoughts. Be human.
It was dark.
”Why won’t you sleep?”
”I did sleep.”
”No, you’ve been awake. Why won’t you sleep? Don’t you trust…”
”Don’t say that.”
”I will make you sleep, woman!”
And later:
”Will you sleep now, Hellrien?”
”I will.”
The sky was beginning to pale on the eastern horizon. The roosters would crow soon. If there were any roosters in the Forsaken Inn. Or high enough dung heaps for them.
