Lara's Wanderings

The huldra nomad crouched down in the grand oak tree at the edge of a small forest. He watched the procession of faerie creatures pass on the dirt road through drought-ridden fields of purple grain. The gnarled, seven-foot-tall ogres in gray armor shepherded a line of hairy, two-foot-tall brownies towards the Odemience fortress. These quiet, little, farming families were marching to certain slavery or death. The nomad, Sage Goliad, swished his fox tail as his almond-shaped eyes changed colors from green to brown. He studied the situation carefully perched in his hiding place. Only four ogres traveled in this group. That wasn’t bad. He had seen worse.

“I need a better view,” said Sage as he stood in the tree. His brown tunic and trousers tucked into his soft knee-high boots helped him blend in with the shadows of the tree.

The oak tree responded by growing another thick branch above Sage’s head. He grabbed onto the branch and pulled himself up higher. He crouched down and frowned as he spotted the brown tail and light skin of the huldra leader in the group. Sage swore as his eyes turned black with rage.

Turmeric.

Sage despised him. Turmeric was Maldamien’s lackey who had ruined his life, twice. The wizard dictator, Maldamien, had killed Sage’s father in a military conflict, but Turmeric, Sage’s own cousin, had murdered his mother in cold blood. Then, Sage, at only twelve years old, had escaped into the desert with Toble to scavenge a new life. Only a few years later, Turmeric began hunting him in the desert ruining Sage’s chance for peace. Now, Sage, at thirty years old, did the hunting. He deliberately tried to make Turmeric’s life miserable. One day, he would kill him.

Sage bared his teeth in the way only a huldra could. He now had two reasons to rescue the brownies, but he waited. He liked to have all the information he could before going into action. He noticed the petite carts of produce pulled by the brownies’ large family dogs. In the middle of the line of carts was one glorious cart holding pastries.

“Oh wow,” said Sage as his eyes turned bright green. “They have cake! When was the last time I had cake?”

“At your twelfth birthday party,” answered the oak tree.

Sage wrinkled up his face as he thought. “Didn’t I have cake once in the desert?”

“They don’t make pastries there,” answered the tree.

Sage tighten his cloth belt. When was the last time he even had a decent meal with a desert? Perhaps, ten years ago? Fifteen? Well, that was reason number three to attack the caravan. Good enough.

Sage took hold of the branch under his feet and swung down to the branch below. Then he dropped from that branch to the ground. The oak tree began to slowly shrink as Sage hid behind a bush to watch the procession. Twenty brownies, five carts, four ogres, and a magic using huldra bad-ass. The tree continued to shrink down and transform into a white-haired dryad with large, floppy, pointed ears. The tall, old man dressed in olive green nomad clothes picked up his rucksack from the ground by his feet. He strapped the over-sized canvas bag to his back as he crouched down next to Sage.

“That’s a bit ambitious, don’t you think,” said Toble.

“We’ve done more,” said Sage. He was forming a plan in his mind. It would involve a lot of running and dodging. He frowned. He needed something a little better.

“With one of the underground groups,” said Toble. “Not on our own.”

“Maybe I can help,” said a voice behind them.

Sage spun around drawing his short sword in the process. How did he not hear anyone behind him? Toble had already grown vines on his hands to use as whips.

The young brownie teen stood behind them with his arms folded. He had the large nose and floppy ears of his people, but he also had a couple a remarkably large scars running down his head and neck. The minuscule oddity held out his rough hand. This stranger had done something very few had managed. He had taken both Sage and Toble by complete surprise. After over fifteen years on the run, that just didn’t happen.

“Arthur,” said the plain brownie. Everything about him was brown instead of the bright colors other brownies wore. If he laid down, he would look like he was carved from wood. “I am assuming you are Sage and Toble from all the stories. If you are here to rescue my kin, I can be of service.”

Sage sheathed his sword as his eyes turned green. A brownie adventurer? Who had heard of such a thing? Then again, dark days created odd heroes.

“Your cousins?” asked Sage.

“Kind of,” said Arthur scratching his wild brown hair. “It’s my mother’s uncle-in-law’s second cousins.”

Sage blinked at Arthur.

“We keep track of our distant relations,” said Arthur with a shrug. He held out his hand again. “Does it matter? You might need the help either way.”

Sage shook Arthur’s little hand with a skeptical smirk. “Good to meet you. What can you do?”

“I can sneak, and I can throw,” said the brownie as though that was good enough.

Sage nodded. He could most definitely sneak. That was for sure.

“Can you throw knives?” asked Toble. The dryad also shook the little brownie’s hand.

The brownie shrugged. “I don’t have any with me, but I could.”

Toble unstrapped his bag and dug through it. Toble carried lots of strange things in his bag. Sage rubbed his unshaved chin wondering what Toble would pull out. Eventually, Toble found a couple of small carving knives.

“That’ll work,” said Arthur taking the two knives and weighing them in his hands. Sage arched an eyebrow. This guy knew more than he showed, and he couldn’t be more than twenty.

“Alright,” said Sage. “You each get an ogre, and I’ll try to keep Turmeric busy.”

“That leaves two ogres left,” said Arthur.

“Sage was never good at math,” said Toble strapping his bag back on, “but trust him on this.”

Sage had already drawn his short, curved sword and made his way toward the back of the line of carts. He darted up to the farthest back ogre and walked behind him matching his steps. His fox tail swished in time with his silent steps. The ogres were massive fighting beasts who towered head and shoulders over the rest of the races in Gryphendale. This one was a smelly, gray, boar-headed warrior.

The two brownies driving the carts behind him gawked at Sage with wide eyes. Sage put a finger to his lips, and all the brownies immediately focused ahead like nothing happen.

Arthur and Toble quickly followed behind. They stayed creeping at the back of the group. Sage glanced back to see when they were ready. Then, he stabbed the back of the ogre with as much force as he could muster. These thick-skinned monsters were tough to kill, and he wanted to make sure he did it right. The ogre’s heavy thud to the ground launched the rest of the ogres and Turmeric into action. Turmeric vanished into thin air, and the Ogres drew their swords as they ran towards Sage.

Sage immediate ran away from the brownies searching for the clear ripple of Turmeric’s invisibility spell. A reptilian, brown ogre caught up to him. Sage crouched down. He darted around the ugly pile of muscle and stench to keep from getting caught in the ogre’s firm grip. The scaly ogre swung hard with his massive broadsword. Sage rolled to the side. He jumped back on his feet.

Toble used his arms like vine whips to battle a charging cow-faced guard. Their energetic conflict threatened the precious pastry cart. Sage ran to the wildly rocking cart. The reptilian ogre nearly caught Sage as he ran. A dagger shot passed Sage and embedding in the ogre’s forehead.

“Great shot!” shouted Sage as he avoided the falling mass of flesh. Sage caught the cart. He kept it from falling over with the cake. He then darted right as he saw the silver light of a fireball forming.

Turmeric.

In the corner of his eye, Sage saw Toble tying up the cow-faced ogre with vines. Arthur was darting through the legs of the last ogre who had large tusks. All the brownies ran out of the way of the fighting with their hands still tied in front of them.

Turmeric reappeared to throw the fireball. Sage rushed him. The fireball came at his face so Sage dropped flat on his back. He slid on his side into Turmeric’s feet. He rolled and sliced with his sword, but Turmeric jumped out of the way. Turmeric drew his sword.

“How many times do I have to kill you?” said Turmeric with a growl.

“As far as I can tell, you haven’t succeeded once yet,” said Sage. He lunged forward hacking with his short sword. Turmeric blocked the attacks with his sword easily. Sage tried to stay close so that fireballs were harder to throw. Turmeric’s longer sword was awkward as well when Sage was almost in grappling range.

Sage moved aggressively forward fighting with every bit of skill he had. Turmeric responded defensively, not having the chance to really get a good hit in.

The short sword Sage owned barely coped with the fine long blade Turmeric swung skillfully. Sage’s recklessness in getting as close as possible in a fight was the only thing that helped him. He crouched low as he fought, but he swung at Turmeric’s gut with passion.

They moved back towards the carts. The corner of Sage’s mouth curled up. He continued to move forward swinging with his sword quickly. Perhaps, today he would kill Turmeric. It was turning out to be a good day already.

Arthur’s dagger killed the last ogre in the forehead.

“Not the cakes!” shouted Sage with his eyes wide. The ogre’s towering body crashed right into the cart with the pastries. Sage groaned.

With Sage momentarily distracted, Turmeric took the opportunity to stab his sword at Sage’s chest. Sage dived right. The sword hit his left arm instead.

Toble’s vines shot out of the ground and began to wrap around Turmeric’s legs.

“No!” Turmeric shouted. He hacked at the vines with his sword. He then vanished.

Sage crouched down searching for the ripple in the air. Sometimes, Turmeric would continue to fight, and, sometimes, he ran off. Sage smirked. It felt good to not be the one running this time.

The brownie prisoners cheered, and Arthur helped untie their hands. Sage kept his sword out watching all around as he and Toble shook hands with the brownies.

A petite brownie woman gave Arthur a surprise hug. “Thank you, Cousin Arthur!”

Arthur scratched his head. “Have I met you before?”

“I’m your mother’s uncle-in-law’s first cousin.”

Sage rolled his eyes.

They kept watching for Turmeric continually as the brownies discussed what to do next. After a few minutes of waiting, they turned the procession around to head to the nearest village only an hour away.

Toble wrapped a strip of cloth around Sage’s left arm to stop the bleeding. The stab wound hurt, but Sage grimaced at yet another hole in his clothes.

“By the Gryphon,” moaned Sage still holding his sword and keeping watch as they traveled. “I wished we could have saved that cake!”

Arthur smiled while walking next to them. “You should have given that order before running off.”

“You’re not bad with those knives,” said Sage looking down at the young adventurer. “Are you part of the brownie underground?”

Arthur snorted. “What brownie underground?”

Sage smiled. At least Arthur was honest about his people.

“We meet tonight,” said Toble digging in his bag and eating random snacks. “It’s mostly foreigners who live in your country who gather, but we can always use some help.”

Arthur nodded. “I’ll be there.”

They soon reached the small country village of Grassmarket. Sage finally put his sword away, and he gave Arthur directions on where to meet. If Turmeric wanted to attack, he would have done it already.

The quiet town had one main dirt road lined with shops through the middle. Lots of little yellow farms laid all around. The brownie prisoners were greeted by the various generous families who may have been kinfolk. You never know with brownies. Arthur disappeared in all the furry brown heads of the townspeople.

Sage and Toble made their way to the main crossroad of the town and knocked on what appeared to be thin air. The Plough and Thistle materialized, and the tall wooden door to the inn opened. Hickory, the old dryad who own the business had already gathered the few members of the underground. This was a full sized inn that Sage all races of Gryphendale could enjoy without bending in half to brownie size. He immediately felt relaxed as he greeted the members of the underground who were already sitting at the small tables with mugs of tonic. He hadn’t been there for nearly a year. He tried to visit all the underground groups as he traveled. Sage shook hands with the two nomads, three undines, and a small group of gnomes. He plopped down in the wooden chair by the fireplace.

“Nasty cut,” said Hickory getting his medical supplies behind the bar.

“Are we ready to start the meeting?” asked a portly gnome who led this particular underground group.

Hickory sat by Sage and Toble with a large wooden box in one hand and two mugs of tonic in the other. Toble took one mug, and Sage took the other. Hickory began to clean Sage’s arm.

“No,” said Sage. “We need to wait for one more. I am expecting a brownie named Arthur. Any of you met him?”

“A brownie?” said the undine woman lifting her webbed hand to her forehead. “They can’t stand adventures or risks. It doesn’t matter what Maldamien does to these people, they don’t fight back.”

“This one is different,” said Sage as he watched Hickory wrap his arm with a bandage. “He killed two ogres today.”

The dark room erupted with murmuring. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” said a nomad mix blood. He took a deep drink of his mug of tonic.

A loud knock came from the door. Sage and Hickory both stood up. Hickory walked quickly over to the door. Sage watched to see how the room would react to Arthur’s presence.

“Well, come on in!” said Hickory with unusual enthusiasm. “Our new friend came bearing gifts!”

Sage stepped over to see the waist-high brownie carrying a cake nearly as big as himself.

“Fantastic!” exclaimed Sage. He took the cake for Arthur and put it on the bar next to the plates Hickory was pulling out.

“My sister-in-law’s first cousin’s father-in-law is a baker here in town,” said Arthur.

“My dear friend,” said Sage. “I think I may owe you my life.” Sage took the first plate with a generous slice of chocolate cake and creamy butter-cream frosting. The rest of the room had immediately lined up to get a piece of this extremely rare treat. Food, in general, was rare, but cake could cost a king’s ransom. They all shook Arthur’s diminutive hand as though he was a true hero.

“Take me on your next adventure, and we’ll call it even,” Arthur replied to Sage.

Sage shoved a large bite of cake in his mouth, and a tear rolled down his face. “With a cake this good, you can go on all my cursed adventures!”

“Here! Here!” shouted the underground room in agreement.

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