by Lexy Wolfe
As she sat quietly, Tiwaz watched with fixed intensity while the man worked. “There’s a flaw.”
Startled she even spoke, Kerk blinked at her. “Eh? What? A flaw?”
She nodded and got up, pointing out the aberration in the metal. “Here. It looks like something contaminated the metal when it was melted.”
The blacksmith held up the blade, squinting as he held it up. He reached over to the lamp to turn it up brighter and looked again. “Well, I’ll be a donkey’s ass. I never would have seen that one if I wasn’t looking for it.” He looked curiously at her. “How’d you see it in this light?”
Tiwaz shrugged. “Doom’s life depended on me. If I failed any task or lost any fight, our master would punish him.” She looked towards the glow emanating from the forge. “My trainer would put flawed weapons among those I was to choose from. During matches where we raced to the middle to grab weapons, I could spot a bad one and choose better.”
“Interesting. Did you ever learn how to make your own?” Before she answered, he chuckled in bemusement, studying the blade. “Never imagined I’d be having a conversation like this with a pretty thing like you.” She blinked then stared at him.
When she didn’t answer the question, he looked at her with a grin. “Well? Had you any training in forging? Some of the arena masters in the Western Empire insist for those who wield weapons know how to repair or replace them. Keeps them from getting careless or reckless with the tools of the trade, see. Or a trade to fall back on if they survived the years of fights.”
She shook her head. “No. My master would not allow anything like that. It was outside what he wished to use me for. But aside from that, I know everything there is about weapons and armor.” She added, “Though I was permitted less and less armor over the years. I learned to compensate.”
Kerk snorted. “Your former master was an unmitigated ass.” Rubbing his chin, he commented offhandedly, “You know, it gets real busy here during spring. People come from all around the region to get their metal bits fixed or replaced. I could use an extra set of hands around here. My last apprentice earned his journeyman badge and left to hone his skills.” He looked sideways at her. “Think you might want to be my apprentice?”
“You want me to be your student?” Tiwaz asked in disbelief.
“Of course. Anyone with as keen an eye as yours? Be a waste not to train that up.” He added wisely, “Talk to your friend Doom about it first and make sure it is okay with him if you want. Don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you to do anything.”
She held her hand up. “It is not that. All my life, I was told what to do. What to think. What to be.” She looked away. “I was never asked to do anything by anyone but Doom. I thought I was only a gladiator.” She took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. “A gladiator without an arena is…nothing.”
“Bah. Gladiating is just a type of fighting. Fighting can be used anywhere, just depends on how you choose to use your skills.” He tossed the blade in the box with other scrap to be melted down again. “Well, unless he wants it to break, he’ll just have to wait until I can smelt a better batch of steel.” He stretched. “May as well head on to market. I’ll show you some of the sights of Bralden. Place isn’t much, has its problems like anywhere else, but it’s got a good heart.” He looked back towards Tiwaz who was staring at the forge fire. “You coming, lass?”
“I get to choose?” she whispered. With a burst of realization, she straightened, squaring her shoulders. With more confidence, she stated aloud, “I get to choose. Yes. I am coming.” Kerk kept his expression neutral until she walked past him towards the main road through town. Then he smiled.
KERK LOOKED UP from the hearth as Tiwaz strode in with an expression as dark as a thunderstorm. Without a word, he took the tea kettle off the hook to pour tea. Doom ducked the archway slightly, his hands held out imploringly. The man looked away to hide his grin at the incongruous image of the smaller woman befuddling the demonic-like gromek. “Be reasonable, Ti. You have plenty to do right now learning from Kerk. There is no need for you to worry about hunting with me right now. I need time to get familiar with the area before I can teach you more.”
She spun on her heel, hands on her hips. “I am being reasonable! I am healed and I am rested. You promised you would teach me to hunt.” She waved her hands aimlessly. “What if something happens to you and it is you who needs to rest? Do you want me going out knowing nothing about—”
The gromek growled in frustration, the spines along his back rising slightly. “I promise I will be careful so you don’t need to. But you are just barely recovered from all the injuries and illnesses you have had since we escaped him. I want you to get your reserves back.”
“He has a point, lass,” Kerk interjected, glancing up while pouring the hot water into the teapot. “The winters here can be ruthless and you’re just skin and bones. You need to fatten up a little more.”
The woman looked affronted. “'Fatten’ up?’ I cannot fight effectively if I am fat and lazy!”
He waved a hand impatiently. “A figure of speech. Have you looked at yourself lately? You still look sickly. Damned near skeletal, to be blunt. You can’t fight effectively if you could be carried away in a stiff breeze. Anything out there’ll take advantage of any hint of weakness.” He sat the plate of bread, cheese and jam on the table, turning to get the plates from the cabinet. “It won’t be long. With old Kerk cooking for you, not to mention going to eat at the Wolf’s Den Inn,” he added with a blissful sigh. His nostalgic wistfulness finally drew a smile from the obstinate woman. The spines along Doom’s back relaxed. “You’ll be back to your old self in no time.”
“Fine,” Tiwaz sighed in resignation. “I’ll wait.”
She leaned into Doom’s side as he put his arm around her, hugging gently. “I promise. As soon as I’m ready and you’re better, I will start teaching you to hunt.”
“I’ll remember that,” she stated pointedly.
“You are certainly the quickest study I ever had,” the blacksmith commented. “I think after we deliver the tools I made for the farrier, I’ll have you start on your first knife.” He noted her suspicious expression and snorted. “I am not patronizing you, lass. I know I said it’d be a month or more before. But your discussion got me thinking about it. You are not like others I have taught. Most start out young and doing nothing but carrying and fetching things, cutting wood, or manning the bellows just to get their physical strength up. Then I have to teach them about the tools or weapons themselves so they understand the reason for the process to make them.”
He waved his free hand while draining his tea. “You have the physical strength and knowledge of weapons that might very well exceed mine. You know the basics of metal working after the past couple weeks in the forge with me. No sense putting off your first forging to see how you do.” He said as he rose, “I’m heading out to take stock and get that delivery ready. Meet me out there when you are finished in here, lass.”
The pair did not speak nor meet eyes for several minutes after the outside door shut. “You know I am only worried about you,” Doom said in a low voice. “It isn’t that I think you are incapable.”
“Then why do you think I am not ready? I have always had to be able to do anything at any time when we were—”
“Ti, we are not slaves,” Doom stated firmly. “Alimar never allowed you quite enough time to recover when you were hurt. You just got better at avoiding getting hurt in the first place. Until…” His voice drifted off, throat tightening at the memory of her lying in the sands. He looked up at her light touch on his chin.
“I can choose for myself now,” she said gently. “I do not like feeling inept and helpless and I do not like seeing you have to do everything to take care of me because I am ignorant.” He met her eyes as she continued in a soft voice. “I can choose to do anything I want, and I choose to be ready and able to help you. But if you need more time to be ready to teach me, then I will wait.”
He clasped her hand, pressing the back against his cheek. “I have never minded taking care of you, Ti. But I understand.” He looked towards the glowing embers in the hearth. “I hated being ignorant. I hate being ignorant now. There was so much that Urbin was forbidden from teaching me. And so little he was able to sneak past Alimar. I felt guilty knowing he was risking his life to teach me even what little he managed and not being satisfied with what he could. I always wanted to learn more.”
He sensed an abrupt shift in his companion, and looked up. “Ti,” he stated sharply, drawing her hard, distant focus back onto him. “Ti, don’t go after Alimar without me. Promise me. We will go after him together.” He squeezed her hand hard. “Promise me!”
She nodded once, her voice hard and emotionless, a mask for the fury burning inside he could see glittering in her eyes. “I promise. I will wait.”
ON THE NORTHERN end of the settlement, Bralden’s market resided on the main road that coursed through town like a lazy snake. The dominating, central structure was the only inn, the Wolf’s Den, rising three stories in height and as wide as any three other buildings surrounding it. The divided nature of Bralden’s inhabitants showed itself most acutely in the market. Along the western side were scattered three-sided structures the wolflen maintained for their own kinds’ use, normal shops along the other.
Tiwaz watched those moving through the market, waiting patiently while Kerk chatted congenially with the farrier. “Keep your filthy mutt children away from my son!” The sharp words drew her attention, her posture shifting from relaxed to combat-ready.
The blacksmith looked over at the former gladiator, then at the shouting she reacted to. A large human man stood in front of a worriedly frowning woman holding a crying boy trying to pull away towards the wolflen. The female wolflen’s ears flattened back, her teeth bared as two young wolflen about the same age and size as the human boy hid behind her. “Human insult my cubs?” she growled malevolently, her hand falling to her knife.
Despite being half a foot shorter than her, the human man did not back down from the confrontation with the wolflen mother. “I’m sayin’ if I find ‘em near my boy again, I’ll kill ‘em myself!” All the wolflen in the market reacted to the threat, ruffs raised and weapons reached for as they circled the threat to one of their own. Several men pulled weapons, heading to the human father to stand with him.
“Best to stay out of it,” Kerk said in a low voice, putting his hand on Tiwaz’s arm. “Probably just blustering anyway. If they don’t get it out of their system now—” He jerked his hand back at the dark expression Tiwaz turned on him, seeing the gladiator within the woman for the first time.
Before anyone realized else it, Tiwaz appeared between the pair of adults, a hand on each one’s chest and pushing them apart. “Stop it!” she commanded. The circling wolflen and men stopped in their tracks, staring at the brazen audacity of the newcomer to Bralden. Several traded bewildered looks with their fellows, wondering how they missed her approach. “How dare you endanger children?”
“This ain’t any of your business, girl. Move,” the man demanded darkly. He got no further than grabbing her arm when he was suddenly on his knees, arm painfully twisted behind him as she put her knee between his shoulder blades. His wife and son clung to each other, silent in fright.
“You will apologize to the wolflen mother for your insult to her children,” she stated in his ear. When he said nothing, she jerked harder. “Apologize!”
“What are you? Some kinda wolf lover?” the man accused. He paled, swallowing hard when she put her hand around his throat, nails digging into the skin around his Adam’s apple.
“No race is better than any other,” she snarled. “I will not tolerate children being belittled. I especially will not tolerate any child being threatened. It is our duty as adults to protect the young, not harm them.” She squeezed his throat. “Apologize!”
“Fine!” He turned to glare at the wolflen mother. “Sorry.” Satisfied, she released him with a shove. Unprepared, he went face first in the soft, trampled dirt.
The red-faced man pushed himself up, spitting dirt, then lunged at Tiwaz as he pulled his short sword. Ducking under him, she grabbed his outstretched wrist, stood up, and yanked. The maneuver used his forward momentum as she flipped him over her shoulder and he landed hard on his back. He stared at his sword in her hand, the tip pricking the end of his nose. He cringed instinctively when she raised the weapon, hearing it cut the air. Instead of hitting him, it sank into the ground halfway.
“Do not,” she informed him coldly, “ever pull a weapon on me again. Next time, I will sheathe it in you.” She took a step back, shoving her foot in the middle of his chest. “Go away.” The shaking man mutely obeyed. He tugged several times to free his sword from the frozen ground below the thawed surface, then ran, abandoning his family. Tiwaz regarded the human mother, her expression softening and offering her a respectful nod.
“Thank you,” the mother whispered before hurrying away with her son while those who thought to support the human father put their weapons away and retreated from the scene.
The watching wolflen spoke amongst themselves in their growling language, but their surprise was unmistakable. A large male wearing more ornamentation than the others approached her, looking her over consideringly. “I see you are no human lover,” he stated in nearly flawless common. Despite being as tall as Doom, he took an unconscious step back at the hard glare she turned towards him.
“This was as much your fault as his.”
“My fault?” he demanded, hackles rising. He took another step back when she advanced, poking him in the chest.
“You understand humans as little as they understand your kind. Ignorance breeds hatred and fear and you perpetuate it.” She turned her back on him and stated in clipped tones to the staring Kerk, “I will wait for you at the forge.” The only sounds left in her wake were the wind and rustling branches, everyone staring after her.
SEATED ON THE floor in front of the hearth, Tiwaz’s complete attention focused on mending one of her old tunics. Kerk laughed as he related the incident in the market. “You should have seen the looks on their wolfy faces, lad! Hoo! I don’t think they could decide whether to laugh or spit nails at her nerve.”
Doom, seated on the rough-hewn chair made from a large, single section of fallen tree, chuckled quietly, eyes on his friend. “Sorry I missed it. I imagine it was something to see.”
“Oh, it was, it was,” he agreed, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. He went to a hutch to take out several mugs and poured three drinks from a small keg. “Ah, lass, you should have come here sooner. I could have used a laugh like this a long time ago. Never seen so many put in their place so effectively.”
Drawn out of her concentration, she stared at him until her eyes focused. “Sorry. We were delayed. We are here now,” she pointed out.
Kerk chuckled, handing Doom one of the mugs, another to Tiwaz, then sitting in his chair with his own. The pair looked at the drinks warily. “What’s this?” the gromek wondered.
“That is dwarven ale. Best and strongest stuff in the Northern Territories without magic influence. Try it. It’ll grow hair on your chest.”
Tiwaz perked up, looking at Doom with intense curiosity. “Hair? Really?”
Doom rolled his eyes. “I think it is a figure of speech, Ti.” He hesitated. “Isn’t it?” Kerk could not speak, laughing so hard tears rolled down his cheeks. All he could do was wave at the gromek. Doom made a face before finally taking a sip, rubbing his chin. “It is good.” He downed the rest in one swallow.
When she didn’t see hair sprouting on her friend, she took a very tiny sip, then held the mug out to Doom. “It is good, but I do not drink spirits. I have seen what they do to reflexes.” She smiled at her friend. “I think it would probably take a whole wagon load to affect you, Doom.”
He shrugged and took his time with the second mug. “I think it might, but I do no
t intend to drink so much at once.”
They all looked up at a demanding rap on the door. Kerk pushed himself to his feet, grumbling, “Who the hells would be out this time of night?” Doom retrieved his cloak and drew the cowl over his head as the man opened the door. He sat up and Tiwaz stood when three wolflen entered, the leader the same one she had scolded earlier. However, they displayed so little arrogance, it bordered extreme humility, and their attention was entirely for Tiwaz.
“I am Pack Leader. The humans call you Warrior,” the leader more stated than asked.
“I answer to that,” she confirmed, her tone neutral.
“Have you come to settle in Bralden?”
Tiwaz and Doom traded confused expressions to the line of questioning. “We have not decided yet,” she said slowly. “Right now, we plan to shelter here for the winter.”
The wolflen frowned. “Then you will not be remaining when the season turns warm again?”
“We have not decided yet,” Tiwaz repeated. “I would only choose to stay if my friend is welcome.”
All three wolflen jumped, raising spears when Doom lowered his cowl to reveal his face to them. Whatever fear of him they evaporated the moment Tiwaz grabbed their spears, wrenched them from their grips, and threw them on the floor at their feet. She snarled, her temper almost as palpable as the heat from the hearth. “You dare raise a weapon against my friend? In Kerk’s home where we were welcomed? What hypocrisy infests this place? We were told people of the north do not judge a person on their looks but on their deeds.”
She pointed at Doom as he walked up behind her, calming a slight bit when he put his hand on her shoulder. “He is my friend. My family. I thought your kind would understand that!”
The three wolflen traded looks, glancing at the gromek and woman occasionally as they spoke. After several minutes, the leader turned to them and bowed, their demeanors submissive. “Forgive us, Warrior. We did not mean to bring insult to your pack.” Her expression did not change. To the gromek, he stated, “Your kind is unknown to us, but we have seen you hunting in the forests around Bralden. The friend of Warrior is welcome to hunt within our range.”