or–”
“That is also–”
“–mule head. Although, maybe that last fits.”
“I don’t–”
“You are rather mule headed after all.”
“–I–”
“She’s right you know.” Mayla added helpfully.
“Mayla!” He ground his teeth as those damned eyes locked onto his, trying to drill through his skull. Digging for answers. “She is also none of your concern!” He spun, moving fast.
The girl ran to catch up. Now she was beside him, beaming up at him with some kind of…what was it? What was that in her eyes? What was tha–her chest was glowing!
“What!?” He froze, almost pointing.
She looked at her chest, frowned, narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you mind?”
“I’m not–”
“You’re looking at my breasts like you’ve never seen a pair before! Hmph!” She lifted her head and began to stalk away. He waited, not sure what to say.
I saw that. That glow. What is it? The Source? No. Don’t even go there. A long slippery slope if you start wondering.
After a small, angry walk, she turned. Wait. His eyes narrowed. Wait just a minute. He didn’t see any anger there. None! “You little…” her hair glowed so brightly. “…tart!”
“What was that?” She asked.
“This way.” He walked a bit to the side of where she had been, she followed at his shoulder, gaze locked on his profile. Finally he glanced down at her. “What?”
“You don’t understand jokes do you?”
“Of course I do.”
She snorted. “I don’t think so.”
“A man walks into a bar, he passes the maiden a golden coin and asks for the best tramp she has to offer. The maiden calls over a beautiful blond wench. ‘This the best you got?’ the man asked. The maiden nods, assuring him. He takes the woman up into a room, nearly a quarter hour passes before the entire bar is frozen by a scream. The man comes running downstairs, face pale and eyes wide.”
He began to smile. “‘What’s wrong?’ the maiden asked. ‘That…’ the man sputters ‘…was a man!’ She sighs, handing him his coin back and says ‘Sorry. I thought you asked for a trap, I thought you liked a little shaft you know?’”
He burst out laughing.
And continued as Grommy joined in. So did Mayla with her soft, throaty laugh. The others were silent.
His laughter slowed. Slowed. Stopped. The girl was just staring at him.
“And?”
“What?”
“And then what?”
“That’s the whole joke! You know. He wanted a tramp but she sent him a trap.” He shook his head. “Get it?” He stared. “Thought he wanted a little shaft. You know.” He motioned at his crotch. “Get it?”
She frowned. “That is funny?”
He stared at her for a few heartbeats. Just stared. Shaking his head, he began walking again.
She caught up in a few steps, looking at him closely. After a while, she made a sort of grunt. “You’re serious? That’s humor here?”
He frowned, feeling the need to defend, Gods, something! “If you were a man you’d get it.”
She made a thoughtful frown. He could see her thinking. Finally she shook her head. “No. No I don’t think I’d laugh.” She looked away, pacing ahead a bit. “I mean…why trap? Why call it that?”
He opened his mouth. She didn’t let him start. “Well? Trap? That makes no sense. On top of which–” He moved faster.
That is funny. Maybe she’s too young?
“What is a joke from your land?”
“Eh?”
He looked at her, almost running to keep pace. He slowed a bit. “Well? Tell me one of your jokes.” Slow down? What? To hells with that. He sped up. She was following him. She was bothering him. He wouldn’t slow to help her.
Even if my leg is hurting…
“I’m not in much of a joke mood but…ok. Here’s one I heard before they began to die.” She chewed on her lower lip, thinking, then nodded. “Yes. Ok. Why did the gillzard cross the road?”
He waited.
She walked on.
He waited some more.
She shook her head. “You’re supposed to ask me ‘why did it cross the road?’.”
“Why?”
“No. ‘Why did it cross the road?’ You are supposed to ask.”
“What?”
“Why did the gillzard cross the road! Bloody Hells man! Ask me...”
He frowned. He already knew this joke. It wasn’t funny. “No.”
She let out an exasperated sound. “No? No! Why not?”
“I already know this one. ‘To get to the other side.’” He nodded. “Yes?”
Her lips puckered in a strange way. “You don’t find that funny?”
“No.”
She nodded, falling a step behind him. “I’m not shocked. As black and bleak as you are…” She mumbled softly. He didn’t catch what it was exactly after the black and bleak bit but, it wasn’t good he was sure.
It’s also in a tongue I don’t understand.
Deciding he liked this silence, he plowed forward, parting the grass and moving as fast as his leg allowed.
9
It was sundown as they neared the river. The little tart had stopped him three times…three!...to, as she called it ‘answer nature’s call’. He could guess what that was as he watched her walk away and then, glancing at him and muttering in her own tongue, squat down so she was hidden by the tall grass.
She needed to piss. Why not just say that? Nature’s call? What the hells? At first he had thought she was talking about magic or some such thing.
Regardless, they were here now. “Ahhh…” He looked at the sky. Damn it. They’d never make the town and be allowed in.
“Another river?” She asked.
“No. Same one. It circles the maze plains. Beyond that–”
“Forrest?”
“Yes.”
She turned an unsteady eye on him to see if he was kidding. “This is not where I came in? You’re sure?”
He shook his head. He wanted to remind her if it was the same side, she would be able to see the remains of her beloved Onsho. For some reason…he didn’t.
I’m getting soft. Or tired. Yes. Very tired.
“That’s not soft, sweets. She’s just a child.” Mayla said.
“Tell her that.”
“What?” The tart asked.
Damn it. He grunted, walking closer to the river.
Limping closer actually.
Will this pain never end?
He stared at the water for a moment, visions of his lost ones danced there, watching. Some were laughing, their lips moving as they joked. No doubt berating him for his present situation. He sighed. “Nothing.” She didn’t need to know when he spoke to his friends.
Or maybe I’m speaking to me? Hmm.
A sound escaped him as he plopped down as close as he could get to the running water. It was a very pleasant scent here. Fresh. New. The water could wash away so much. The grass here was bent over, drawing in the water. He smiled at that. The grass in the maze plains was about the liveliest grass he knew of. Here, at least, it would focus on the water and not him.
Usually!
He kicked away a stray that had found the hole in his foot.
The tart walked around him, dropping the gear she had carried. She stretched right above him. He couldn’t help but admire her. That hair. Those amazing eyes. That chest was not as small as he thought. Though, what she wore did enhance it a bit. He glanced away as he caught her catching him.
Damn. But he was a man. And she was–
“How old are you?” He blinked at her question. He was thinking that very question about her.
He let himself fall backward into the strangely bent grass. It was very soft and mostly sticking to the water to suck it in and spread across the vast field. It moved under him, undulating softly as it pulled the water in.
I wouldn’t mind drifting away like this.
“Sorry sweets, not yet.” Mayla whispered, taking his foot gently into her hands.
When? Was that out loud? No. No he didn’t think so.
“Soon enough. Soon enough.” He let her lift his leg with no protest.
This was a dangerous place. The sound of the water was pulling gently at his senses. It was hypnotic in a deep, primal kind of way. Offering cold comfort in its depths and a smooth transition into its constant motion. The grass was almost as bad. The soft movements beneath him were just begging him to let it take away his pain.
The better to lull you into oblivion.
He opened an eye. “What are you doing?” He asked quietly as he saw the girl holding his foot, his newly sewn, and newly torn, boot hanging from her arm.
“This needs to be…goodness…this needs to be fixed and your foot,” she inhaled sharply. “your foot needs to be tended to. How did you walk on it like this?”
He glanced at it. He shouldn’t have. His foot was nearly black. Well, at least the part that was hanging. Apparently the boots she had made him were all that had held it together.
A lesser man would probably have puked or passed out. He just blinked at the dangling bit.
Three toes hanging there? I wonder why it doesn’t hurt more?
The tart was gazing at him, her eyes swimming colors in the fading light. “Is it the blackness? Does it give you this strength? Does it–”
“Curse your blackness tart!” Damn, wouldn’t she let it go? “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Yes it hurt,” why tell her? “but you just have to keep moving and put the pain aside. Bury it within. Store it. Save it. Eventually…it fades. Everything fades” He sighed. “In time.”
She had dropped the boot and pulled something from that little satchel of hers. It looked like a giant pair of nail clippers. “Wait…what are
The Source Page 8