03 - Survivors
Smoke was rising from the settlement. It was no more the quiet village between low hills. Agressive shouting could now be heard hundreds of paces. Kortheod was lying in high grass on the slope above, paralyzed, watching the raid.
The show didn’t last long. About a dozen grey skinned baddies were leaving with bloody swords and some loot.
Suddenly a desperate woman shriek cut through the air. And then again, longer. The main group of raiders was nearly away. Kor figured quickly, what could be the cause. He stood up and started to run towards the settlement. The next shriek guided him to the house on the far-right end. Its roof was on fire, like most of other houses.
Just after entering the interior, he saw through the smoke wide dirty back of the half-orc raider. And from the position of his stature was obvious what is happening. The woman was still fighting, hitting him with a broken piece of broom in one hand. Kor grasped his cudgel and raised it above head. It was only a long walking stick, necessary to find safe ground when walking through swampy lands. But it was a stout one, crafted from tough wood by his own hands.
The cudgel landed on the raper’s back of the neck with a loud thud. The grey figure turned stiff.
Kor stroke again. A cracking sound was a proof that the enemy’s neck broke. Dead raider fell to side. His victim, fair-haired woman with wrinkles of deadly fear carved in her face now stared at him. The smoke was suffocating.
Kor reached out his hand to her. But she swinged the broken broom again and hit the hand. Her eyes were wide, shocked. She was trembling.
A dunnish looking man in a dark interior, no wonder, thought Kor.
Suddenly a loud cracking sound came from above. World faded to black.
...
Burning and freezing at the same time woke him up. His head and lungs were like on fire, the rest of his body shivering with cold. But he was alive. Considering his last memory it was a success.
Kor opened his eyes. At least he tried. Eyelids were covered with a crust of scab. But it cracked open at least a bit.
In the fading dusk he didn’t recognized his exact location, only he is away from the burned village. And he also felt presence of another person. Kor turned his head. The fair haired rohirric lass was sitting two steps from him. Silent, with crossed legs, staring into nowhere. Kor didn’t see much through the gap in the scab, only that her face was one big bruise. Cold of the evening was crawling in her body too, but she was remaining lethargic.
She dragged me out of the burning house, realized Kor.
He knew he should say something. But at the same time saying anything wouldn’t help her. It wouldn’t ease her feelings. So, he just laid, with unspoken thanks to her.
He turned to side and huddled, wrapped himself. His breathing got easier after a while, apparently lugs were not burned so much.
When the paleness started to dissolve the black over the landscape, Kor still couldn’t fall asleep. The shock and pain was yet too raw, too strong. His apathetic companion was apparently awake too.
Kor moved. He unfolded his body, then tried to sit. He succeeded, but a flash of pain suddenly stung his forehead. He staggered but did not fell. He was not sure what he’d achieve, he still hadn’t enough strength to go anywhere.
Suddenly he was nudged by something. After turning his head, he more touched than saw a small wooden bucket. It nudged him again and the contents splashed onto his arm and leg. Now he saw it through the gap in the scab and realized. The rohirrim girl was giving him water.
Kor took a deep swig. Then he passed the bucket back to her.
“Thank … you.”
The woman stayed silent, but as far as he could see through the tiny crack, she slightly nodded.
He laid back again. The silence returned to reign. It was logical result of the situation, though Kortheod felt a bit embarrassing.
“You can call me Kor.”
Though his hearing was sharp as always, he did not hear a word. He saw her a bit blurry through the scab, so he strained his eye to maximum, looking at her carefully. She only shrugged, but otherwise did not react.
No wonder, thought Kor, after the dire experience we lived through…
He huddled himself again. Involuntarily tried to reach inner strength reserves, if there were any.
Could have been worse. It’s only spring night, we will not freeze.
The reigning silence became a cozy bubble of rest and regeneration. And thinking.
A new decision slowly crystallized in his head. Sometimes one must change attitude.
He will join the war again. The half-orcs will pay.
