The Orb of Wrath

by Nic Weissman

  *******

  Erion woke up with excruciating pain. He turned to see the status of his leg. It was completely bandaged below the knee. Mithir was at his side. It was obvious he had done everything he could to heal the wound.

  Mithir reached for something in his backpack. It was a small bottle. He uncorked it and held it.

  “You must drink this. It will help you heal,” he affirmed seriously.

  “I hope it's not our last healing potion,” Erion said.

  “Shut up and drink!” Mithir replied impatiently, as he approached the bottle to his lips.

  Healing potions were expensive, but relatively easy to get. Almost every town had a healer who dealt with them.

  “What has happened? How long have I been asleep?” Erion asked.

  “You lost consciousness. Fortunately, the fight was over. You slept for about an hour. Just enough time to cure your wounds. Do you think you can ride?”

  “Let me try.”

  “Yes, but you must wait a while for the potion to take effect. That will help so the wound doesn't open again.”

  A while later, Erion felt better. His leg still hurt a lot, but he was able to move. He thought he could even walk with a cane, though perhaps not for long. Fortunately they had horses. He climbed onto his and tried to ride across the meadow. He could see that he didn't feel a lot of discomfort with the horse's movement. Mithir motioned for them to continue their journey.

  As he rode with his brother, Erion pondered what happened. The world of Oris was a dangerous place. Especially as you stepped out of the cities. In addition, a small group or a solo traveler were running far greater risks, because there were far fewer dangers which you could take defense from. It was, therefore, even more important to be cautious.

  Mithir and Erion had traveled much of the kingdom of Bor since leaving the orphanage about six years ago. That was the year that Erion turned twenty, and could do legally by Mithir. Otherwise they would have had to wait for Mithir to turn eighteen, the age when the orphans left the Lefport orphanage. Erion should have left it at that age, but he managed to convince the Mother Superior to let him stay as a worker for two years, until Mithir was old enough. He did everything: cleaned floors and toilets, took care of farm animals or worked in the kitchen. But this allowed him to continue taking care of his brother and at the same time, earn a small amount of money (very small), while making big plans of everything they would do once they left the orphanage.

  He could not say that the orphanage had been a bad experience. They were welcomed very small, when otherwise they would not have survived. They had been fed every day, although the food was not much; and most importantly, they got an education, a very basic one, though. Although the sisters and the workers had been severe and disciplined, they always received a reasonably fair treatment. Another thing was the treatment of the other children at the orphanage; some were real thugs. As for the sisters, if they had ever received any kind of punishment, usually it had been deserved.

  Erion then recalled how on one occasion Mithir and he had gotten a little mouse in the bag of the helping mother. She worked in the small infirmary at the orphanage and worked in the gardens, as well. She cultivated different types of medicinal herbs, then collected and kept them carefully. She was stiff as a stick, but she was not a bad person. Now that he remembered the episode, he couldn't understand why they had chosen her for the mouse prank, having other more deserving to be their “victims”.

  When the helping mother picked her bag to return to the main building of the orphanage, she did not perceive the friend who was inside it. But once she got to the infirmary and opened the bag to take the herbs that she collected ... well, the cry was heard in the surrounding buildings. Erion and Mithir believed for a moment that they could get away with it, and it was possible that a mouse had slipped naturally into the bag while in the field. But nothing escaped Mother Superior. That bitch was damn smart. She always ended up finding out what had really happened. He did not understand how, but she was extremely difficult to trick; simply trying it was a big challenge. In recent years in the orphanage school tricking her was proposed several times. Not to make any mischief, but only to try to overcome the challenge. In practice it turned out to be a great training, and a varied one since different skills had to be used: hiding, disguising, changing the voice, lying, simulating a problem or physical or mental harm, and so on.

  So, the orphanage was even funny at times, and certainly very instructive. The hardest part of the orphanage was what wasn't in it. The difficulty for a child to have to grow and mature without the love of parents. But this was, in fact, what the orphans didn't talk much about. It was easier to speak well, or poorly, of the educators, Mother Superior or the food. Anything but face the bitter reality that they were alone in the world. Eventually, all orphans ended up having to deal with that reality. But usually this did not happen until the date of leaving the orphanage approached.

  Erion felt the pain in his leg had referred considerably. He could probably walk almost normally at dinnertime. Although it would have been preferable to rest for a couple of days for him to fully heal.

  The almost total absence of pain allowed him to appreciate the scenery around him for the first time since the day before. Bor was a beautiful kingdom, as far as the landscape was concerned. Green grass fields stretched across most of the Kingdom. The forests of various extensions were common in all the counties. There were many rivers and lakes, with clear and cool waters. The winters could be cold but, usually, the temperatures were reasonable most of the year.

  Erion remembered the spring, from a few months ago. Maybe it was the most beautiful season in the landscapes of Bor. It was common that, after the rains early in the season, colorful flowers bloomed across the fields of the Kingdom. Life woke up after the winter hibernation, and you could see all kinds of animals in the different territories. The hunt was good at this time of year.

  A portion of those colors had faded or had switched to darker tones with the arrival of autumn. But you could still see abundant flowers in many fields. And the green of the grass was still alive, even though during that season it didn't rain much. It had started late and it was cold. The temperature was not pleasant, but bearable.

  The afternoon passed quietly, without incident. Almost without realizing it, they were nearing the end of their journey.

  “I think this is the crossroads that the instructions indicated,” Erion said.

  “I remember being here on other occasions, but always heading north or south to Deepcliff,” Mithir added.

  This time they made their way to the west. By late afternoon they had reached the forest of their destination. Indeed, it was the only forest in the area and it did not seem very large. They entered it at nightfall, riding slowly, while paying much attention and looking for the camp. It took a while to find it, more than he would have liked; his leg was in need of rest. Finally, after a little less than an hour wandering through the woods, they saw a clearing below where someone had lit a fire, and tents for the night, horses and some ammunition were visible. They walked into the clearing.