The Power Within: The Chronicles of Hollyglade Wayrender

by Steve Barker

  Hollyglade felt an odd sense of loss for that bath. Usually, she did not care for the heat of baths found in inns. She had grown accustomed to bathing in various natural sources of clean water. But the allure of warmth, and real soap, had overcome her better judgement. Now, it was that heat she lamented having left.

  She also felt a sense of guilt over the the old woman’s death. She felt the two senses of loss, for the bath and the old woman, competing within her, and chided herself for allowing such internal contention. Was this some callousness that had begun to grow in the years she had spent wandering alone from town to town since leaving Magnaville? Or was it just the intense cold numbing her mind, as well as her flesh? She closed her eyes, recalling the events of that morning.

  ◆ ◆ ◆ ◆

  Hollyglade entered the small village with a measure of caution. Having been on the road for over a week, she was tired of travel, but could not assume this town to be any safer than the last. She had been forced to leave in a hurry when the local garrison commander had made it clear to her that non-humans were unwelcome. There had been a mix of both good and bad luck with villages and towns this last month. Life in general had become more difficult for her ever since King Harford, the new young heir to the throne of Loria, had decided that all non-humans were of a lower class and did not deserve citizenship in his newly inherited kingdom.

  Some towns still may have work for a girl with Hollyglade’s skills. However, those would be towns without the presence of a royal garrison, that may not have heard this latest decree, or didn’t yet take it seriously. In most towns there were farmers who needed their horses or oxen trained for the plow. Sometimes there would be a horse breeder who needed young animals trained for riding and carrying soldiers into battle.

  Hollyglade’s giantish half came with the inherited ability to communicate with animals on a level no human could. She almost always had to explain to a prospective new employer that she could not speak the animal’s language, but that it was more like sharing a knowing look between friends, one that only they would understand. She never let on that it was actually much deeper than that, and in truth is was like speaking their language. With some nobler species of animals, it was the sharing of thoughts.

  Hollyglade was also careful to conceal that, if she wished, she could influence, maybe even command or compel an animal on a subconscious level, to do anything she required of them. She had always been careful of this. Impressing a farmer with how quickly she trained a plow team, and boggling their mind by making an animal do something completely out of character for any beast, were two vastly different things.

  Over the last few years she had been able to scratch out a decent living, wandering from place to place, finding work for a time with some good-natured farmer or another. Occasionally, she would even be able to rely on an employer’s recommendation to find the next job, rather than approaching someone cold. It was not the kind of work that would make anyone rich, but Hollyglade found it satisfying. She did not much like interacting with people, and preferred the company of the animals. Perhaps it was because she always knew where she stood with the animals, or that they never tried to take advantage of her, or that they were endlessly loyal and honest creatures. Whatever the reason, she was content with her life.

  As Hollyglade approached the first few buildings in the town, she took note of the disposition of the townsfolk who were about the street. She got a general sense that the town was laid back and welcoming. The road was dry and dusty, as it had not rained in over a week. As a result, her throat was parched from having drunk the last of her water when she awoke earlier in the morning. The sky was blue and cloudless as well, and she felt a sense of disappointment, knowing the dry weather would continue.

  She approached what looked like a tavern or an inn, with the intent of looking for a good meal and a room for the night, and hopefully a lead on someone who might be in need of some animals trained. Usually, a competent farmer could train his own animals, but she excelled at convincing them it was worth their while to let her do so for a modest fee while they continued on with regular work. She was most often successful in gaining work from coach drivers wanting to replace an animal on their team who had gotten old, sick, or who just did not fit in. It was most common for her to find leads for such work in whatever place the locals regularly gathered.

  Hollyglade climbed the steps at the front of the building and ducked as she entered through the open door. At her height, most doors were lower than her chin, and it had been a year or so since she had not had the need to duck through a door. As she stepped into the main room, the warmth of a fire coming from the hearth in the centre of the room met her invitingly. The smell of stew and baking bread wafted through the air. Hollyglade’s stomach growled. She had not eaten any hot food in days, and it had begun to feel like forever since she had eaten anything she could call a full meal.

  Looking around the room, she saw several sets of small tables and chairs, all of which were empty. A large shaggy dog lay sprawled out close to the central hearth, and a woman stood stirring the pot hanging over the fire. Hollyglade took a couple of steps further into the room and stopped, politely waiting for the woman to finish with her stew. After a moment the woman turned and looked up at Hollyglade. The innkeeper was not very old, but had a tanned complexion and flaxen hair. Her dress was simple, light brown, and floor length, with a well-worn apron over top. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open slightly as she took in Hollyglade’s seven and a half foot tall frame. She paused for an instant and looked Hollyglade thoroughly up and down.

  Hollyglade was not dressed as a lady, but her riding boots, trousers, doublet and surcoat were somewhat neatly put together. Her long red hair, woven in a loose braid, hung over her left shoulder and reached to her waist. For those who knew such things, it was a dead giveaway that, though she had the slim build, soft facial features, and slightly pointed ears of her Elvish half, she was also half Giantish. Hollyglade did not carry a sword, but kept a long knife, the type commonly used by cattlemen and farmers, on her hip.

  The woman finally came to focus on Hollyglade’s face. “I’m sorry deary, but we can’t serve you here. King’s new orders I’m afraid. You’ll have to keep moving”.

  Hollyglade relaxed her eyes, now that they had adjusted to the lower light of the interior of the building. “Pardon my intrusion madam,” Hollyglade replied. “I meant no disrespect. Things seem to be changing recently, and I find places I had previously been welcome, I am welcome no longer. It surprises me not, that in places such as the capital, Elder Folk are less welcome, but in truth it does give me surprise that farming towns such as these now dismiss the good business of honest travellers.”

  The woman seemed impressed with her demeanor. Hollyglade had spent much time in the vicinity of the noble class while in the markets of Magnaville. She had a keen ear and did her best to learn to speak as they did. She found that people often judged others by the class of their speech as much as their general appearance and attire. She found this to have its greatest effect in the country, where she could make herself sound different from, and of a higher class than, the people she hoped to convince to accept her. Hollyglade had sensed a sort of apologetic tone in the woman’s initial response to her appearance at the door, and thought it worth trying to gain a little information before moving along.

  “Madam, I will not intrude on your fine establishment,” Hollyglade continued “I wonder though, if I may ask you if there is still a place here, or perhaps in another nearby village, that a woman like myself might find hospitality, and perhaps even work.”

  Even though she was only fifteen years old now, Hollyglade had recently begun to refer to herself as a woman, rather than a girl. It seemed that all anyone wanted from her when she labelled herself a girl, was to ask her where her parents were, rather than what kind of work she could do. She would not normally have been so bold as she was with this woman, but she had not eaten in more than a day, and badly needed
rest. She was by no means opposed to sleeping out amongst the trees, but when there was a chance of sleeping in a warm bed, it felt like something worth pursuing. So far, the worst rejection she had suffered was from the local garrison in a town a few days walk back down the road, who had simply asked her to leave town.

  The woman walked gently across the room toward Hollyglade, and offered an apologetic half-smile. “Well you’re as forward as you are tall, aren’t you! Listen, there’s none of them Kingsmen in town today, but I can’t have you being here should they arrive tomorrow.” she said plainly.

  Moving closer to Hollyglade, she lowered her voice and continued in the apologetic tone once more “I’ll tell you that there is a small cottage just out the far side of town. The old woman, whose husband passed this past spring, has been known to let travellers, even such folk as yours, pay for a night and a meal. She may even have a bath you might use, though I’d guess you’d be heating your own water.

  “Before her husband passed on he used to have a few of the dwarvish folk tending his field. Why years ago I recall he had a giantish man cutting wood for him for a time. I tell you, until recently I had a young Gnomish lad, who could play lovely tunes and sing like a bird, entertaining the guests. But once that young pushover of a king took his father’s pretty chair, that lad moved on from here. Not brave folk, the Gnomish.

  “Anyway my dear, you try her, out the end of town. But I’d not spend more than a night there, were I Elder folk.”

  Hollyglade nodded, and bowed slightly as she turned to duck back out the door. “I thank you, good lady,” she offered, and stepped back into the street.

  Hollyglade had heard that same apologetic dismissal from an increasing number of innkeepers and tavern owners recently. Many other people like this woman made their living by being as welcoming as possible. There were not many who would happily obey a new ordinance that so negatively impacted their ability to earn a living. It was true, that the Giantish, Elvish, Dwarvish, Gnomish, and other Elder races, were becoming rarer in this part of the world, but they were all paying customers.

  Hollyglade continued down the road. As she strode through the town, she received various looks ranging from nervous, to apologetic, to fearful. She was never quite sure anymore if those looks came in response to her particularly unique appearance or that she was obviously a member of the recently outcast and outlawed races. She walked with an upright posture, her lips in a hard line, her gaze fixed on the road ahead, her long red braid swaying slightly. She studied the town as she progressed toward the cottage she had been sent to. It seemed only to consist of the one road and, besides the Inn there was only a handful of houses on the street, obviously home to families who worked the outlying fields.

  It was now just before noon, and as Hollyglade approached the last home on the road, just slightly farther away from the other cottages, she hoped to find it as the innkeeper had represented it. Hollyglade still carried a few coins, and was confident they would cover a room and a meal. The small house looked much older than the others she had passed. It was covered with ivy, and surrounded by a low stone wall which kept a number of goats, chickens, ducks, and a lone cow within its boundary. A thin plume of smoke escaped from the chimney which poked through a straw thatched roof, signalling that someone must be home, and that it was warm within.

  Hollyglade approached the gate and opened it, stepped through, careful to re-latch it behind her. At her height she could easily have stepped over the gate, or any part of the wall for that matter. She entered via the gate knowing politeness was most often the best currency with small town folk, especially those as elderly as she had been told this woman was.

  The animals seemed to take little notice of her as she moved gently across the yard to the cottage. She stepped to the door, gave three firm raps, and stepped back while folding her hands in front of her beltline, presenting as unimposing an image as she knew how. After a few moments, there seemed to be no response, so Hollyglade knocked once more on the cottage door and softly called out to whomever might be within. “Is anybody home? I’d like to inquire about room and board, if such may be found here. I’m led to believe you may rent rooms to travellers from time to time.”

  Finally, a woman’s voice came from within. “Hold your horses friend, I’m not the spry thing I used to be.” The voice was soft, yet it crackled while letting out the words.

  The door handle rattled as the old woman took great effort to make it turn in its housing, worn out from its many years of use. The door opened inward to a darkly lit room, into which Hollyglade could not see more than the first few feet, and a gnarled hand sticking out the end of a tattered sleeve beckoned her to enter. “Come, come my dear. My old bones aren’t suited to these cooler days. Come in.”

  Hollyglade ducked through the small door, and took a couple of steps into the room to let the old woman close the door behind her. “I thank you madam,” Hollyglade offered, as she glanced around the inside of the cottage. The ceiling was low, and Hollyglade was not quite able to stand fully upright, and so she had to slouch not to rub her head on it. She noticed a small stone hearth in the far corner of the room, and two doors along the near wall. There was an empty pot beside the fire, a small table with a couple of simple chairs, and one larger chair in the corner at the front side of the cottage with several furs draped over it.

  “You say you’re looking for a bed, my dear?”.

  Hollyglade turned her attention back to the woman, whose long white hair went in every direction imaginable as it tumbled down over her shoulders and onto a long brown dress. Hollyglade’s eyes quickly adjusted to the lower light in the room, and she noticed that the woman was not looking directly at her, but rather in her general vicinity. Hollyglade could not help but notice the thick, white-grey haze which covered the woman’s eyes, indicating that she was most surely and completely blind.

  “Yes, madam.” Hollyglade’s mouth felt suddenly much drier. The woman struck her as being impossibly old. In her experience, the poor people she had lived with, in the Red Lanes of Magnaville, would never have been capable of surviving to such an age, and the more well-off who may have lived as long, would not venture into the gutter Hollyglade had called home in their later years.

  “I would indeed Madam.” Hollyglade thought, as she responded, that she had never seen such long and deeply trenched wrinkles before. “I’ve been travelling on the road for a fair number of days now.” Her back felt empathetically sore as she noticed the exaggerated hunch of the old woman’s back. “I’ve not had the pleasure of a warm bed this last week.” She felt her stomach tighten as her attention returned to what she was saying. “And I’d gladly pay for a meal, if one might be available.”

  The woman’s brow furrowed slightly as she turned and shuffled toward the fur covered chair by the window. “I’ve a room you’re welcome to for a silver a night, but I must apologize for the lack of a hearty stew. It has been some time since my good husband passed on, and I don’t see many travellers these days, and am not often hale enough to give my energy to making a meal for those who may call at my door.

  “But, if you are the type of woman who’s handy with meals and would do some work with the animals in the yard, I’d be glad of it, and you could keep the silver for the room. There are too many days the eggs go wasted, and the cow goes unmilked. It’s been some time since I’ve heard a good travelling story. I’d enjoy a good story from such a young lady.” She gave a lopsided grin, which displayed more gum than tooth, as she eased back down into her pelted sitting chair.

  Hollyglade wondered if the old woman would ever get up again. “Madam, I thank you for your generous hospitality, and I would be glad to be of service to you in return for your room. If I may, I would set my things in the room and tend to your animals first. I’m by no means a trained cook, but I’ll make us a stew that you’ll find welcome enough.” Hollyglade wasn’t sure how to relate to this old blind woman. She could easily take advantage of her in a number of ways.
She had done so to many unsuspecting patrons of the Magnaville central market who liked to carry their coin in excessively fancy, and therefore easily fingered, coin purses. She felt pity for the old woman. These days Hollyglade was determined to make an honest living, and had done so for almost two years now.

  “The room on the right, my dear. Once you’ve finished with getting the stew on the fire, I’ll point you to the bath. I might not be able to see you, but I can smell you.” She gave an unrestrained giggle and sank deeper into the chair. Hollyglade dropped her nose to her shoulder and sniffed as quietly as she could, while feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She stepped to the door of the bedroom, opened it and ducked through. It was indeed small, with a bed she would have to curl up quite a lot to get into, but it was warm and dry. She set her small satchel on the floor, ducked back out of the room and headed outside.

  After finding the feed for the animals, convincing the cow let her take some milk into a bucket, and gathering several dozen eggs she managed to find around the roost and the grounds, Hollyglade set about making a meal.

  The woman had a few vegetables in a small garden behind the house, and the planters around the edge of the house provided several herbs Hollyglade thought tasted pleasant. Once the pot had been filled and set above the fire, to which Hollyglade added a small bundle of wood for cooking, she took the pot of water she had heated for the bath and headed to the room next to hers. Closing the door behind her she poured the pot into the tub, set it down, and began to undress.