Read The Flower and the Warlock- A Dark Fantasy Novella :: Chapter 16: Bridges

News of the barbarians soon reached the other women, prompting them to hastily pack their belongings to abandon the settlement for the night. They uprooted sprouts to save the crops and took down their tents for the journey ahead. The children, too young to help, could not carry the heavy loads. Their only assistance came from two oxen, which unfortunately had no space on their backs for cargo.

As panic spread, Arjana surveyed her surroundings, then remembered the pig roasting on the spit. With resolve, she hoisted the spit and rekindled the fire. In need of spices, she unpacked some of the boxes that had been stowed away, despite the disapproval of the other women. Arjana disregards their objections as she quickly seasons the meat and starts to cook. Trakka, in a fit of frustration, yanks Arjana to her feet, "Arjana, we have to leave now! Cooking the pig will take hours, and the barbarians will descend upon us by nightfall!"

"My friends will arrive before that!" Arjana counters, pulling away to resume her work at the spit.

"How can you be so certain? After everything that's occurred, after everything I've told you, why persist in this stubbornness?" Trakka exclaims.

"Because I saw them starve! Have you not seen the children starving?" she implores. "If you had seen their pain, you'd understand." Arjana grabs some corn and starts crushing it into a porridge-like mixture for a dish, just as Trakka tries to snatch the bowl from her grasp.

"Let go, Trakka!"

"Cease this, child!"

Their argument halts as a group of women dash by, shrieking.

"There's a strange man in the settlement!"

"Hurry, gather everything!"

Trakka and Arjana stand petrified as the screams of panic intensify. Amidst the turmoil, a desperate cry rings out.

"Baldur! Baldur, stop!"

Arjana inhales sharply, recognizing the voice. "Birger?"

"I can't wait any longer; my daughter needs food! Forgive me!" Another shout follows as the women and children evacuate the vicinity of the noise. Snatching the bowl from Trakka, Arjana dashes toward the commotion. Trakka nearly falls but quickly recovers and pursues Arjana. "Wait, child!" she implores, weaving through the dispersing crowd, only to halt abruptly at the sight of Arjana standing before a hunched over, yet towering, rugged elf. Birger stood behind him, clutching the elf's shoulder to restrain him.

"Baldur, you're frightening them! We meant to arrive peacefully!" Birger reprimands.

"My wife is gone, little Menia is all I have left... I cannot bear to lose her as well," the elf sobs.

Before Trakka can interject, Arjana steps forward with the bowl of mashed corn, extending it to him.

"Here, I've made this. It's warm and soft for her to eat."

Baldur's eyes sparkled with gratitude as he received the bowl with trembling hands. "Thank you, thank you, dear child!" he exclaimed, unwrapping a bundle held close to his chest. Trakka gasped upon seeing a tiny child, all skin and bones, within his cloak. The child, Menia, was too frail to feed herself, so her father tenderly fed her the mixture. Looking up, Trakka saw a group of elves, weakened and famished, standing behind Birger. Even the spear-wielding guards appeared utterly feeble from hunger. Trakka's heart sank at the sight of the malnourished women and children. These elves differed from any Trakka had seen before; some bore flowers as limbs, others had fins and bark-like skin. She was astounded by these beings, yet her heart remained steeled.

"No. All of you, leave!" she shouted, but Birger stepped forward.

"Ma'am, please allow me to explain before you make any hasty decisions," he implored with a slight bow. "I am Birger Bramblewood. We elves have no intention of harming your women or children—"

"That sentence does nothing to convince me."

"I understand, that's why we elves have reached an agreement.", Birger explains, raising his hands in submission. The elves exchanged glances, holding their loved ones close. "The elven men have decided to let the women and children stay with you."

"How does that benefit us? We already have enough mouths to feed!" Trakka argues in frustration.

"Elven women are skilled in magic; they can protect you if they're well-nourished."

Trakka scoffs while Birger attempts to persuade her. Meanwhile, Arjana notices the settlement's women inching closer to glimpse the newcomers. Whispers arise among those who have never seen this elf species.

"Fivas?"

"They're so tall... could they eat us?"

Seized by inspiration, Arjana dashes back to the camp center to retrieve the pig roasting on the spit. With care to avoid burns, she lifts the spit and approaches the group as Birger engages Trakka.

"Your fiva boy failed to cast a spell last time. How can we be sure this isn't a trap?", Trakka accuses as they argue.

"Believe me, I've cared for Arjana for a weeks. I mean no harm to her people."

"Why not seek refuge in other kingdoms?"

"For the same reason you escaped Thyge: slavery. Izzimar told me what Arjana had disclosed about your travels."

"And what makes you think—"

Her words are cut short as Arjana arrives with the cooked piglet. The elves begin to whimper, the aroma of the roasted meat tantalizing their senses. Despite their ravenous state, they remain seated.

"Arjana—", Trakka starts, but is brushed off by Arjana when she approaches Baldur.

"Baldur, is there a spell you can cast?"

"Why... yes... but... I'm not powerful enough..."

Arjana rips a piece of meat from the piglets' shoulder and offers it to him.

"Eat this; it's roasted hog, it should help."

Baldur eagerly consumed the offered pig's meat. With regained strength, he managed to stand to his full height, even taller than before. As he rose, he noticed the women and children of the settlement eyeing him fearfully. He hesitated, but Menia's soft groan in his arms reignited his determination. Observing the damaged sprouts, torn amidst the chaos of the fleeing women, an idea struck him. Raising his hand, he began to chant a spell.

"O great sun, infuse life into these leaves. O great rain, stir the seeds. O earth, thrive!"

A green aura emanated from his hand, mending the sprouts and fostering their growth. The onlookers gazed in wonder as the sprouts matured into full cabbages, but before ripening, Baldur nearly succumbed to exhaustion. Birger supported him, steadying his gasping breaths.

"That's all I can manage at the moment... sorry," he gasped.

Trakka looked on in disbelief, while the other women started to examine the crops.

"Is this... magic?"

"With this magic,we'll have seeds in no time!"

As Trakka watched, dumbfounded, Arjana took command.

"Birger! It's your turn! Please, cast a spell!"

Heeding her call, Birger flips through his spellbook until he locates the right page. Approaching the roasted piglet, he tears off the legs and proceeds to distribute pieces to a group of young elves.

"I only need the bone for this spell, youngins. Go ahead and eat," he instructs gently, watching as the famished elven children quickly devour the meat. Once they finish, he retains the bones and steps back into the sightline of the Parian women and children. He sets the pig bones on the ground and encircles it with a blue powder. With the setup complete, he commences his incantation.

"Life, death, rebirth. By the power of cold steel and crackling thunder. Verda!"

With a flash and a crackle of thunder, the pig bone rises as another pig, distinct from the one slaughtered. The Parians gasp and whisper in awe at this strange phenomenon.

"Did he... resurrect that piglet?"

"Impossible!"

Arjana looks around joyfully, realizing her people are beginning to appreciate the benefits of having elves among them. As whispers fill the air, Birger collapses to one knee, exhausted, then faints. Arjana, in a panic, rushes to his side.

"Birger! Birger! I'm so sorry!" she whimpers, trying to wake him.

Trakka watches, uncertain what to make of the impossible feat. These creatures are weak, but still... can they truly be trusted with such power? With a sigh, Trakka concedes.

"Alright... you may stay with us," she tells the other elves, their eyes alight with hope.

"But help us unpack and cultivate! You'll work if you want to eat!" she adds, somewhat reluctantly, as another woman steps forward to pick up the half of the cooked piglet that was dropped. "You, Peony, distribute the rations evenly among them until we know where we stand with food," Trakka commands. With a nod, another woman helps Peony distribute the pig meat among the elves. As Trakka turns to leave, Baldur steps forward.

"Where can I be of assistance, ma'am?"

"Begin by aiding us in setting up the tents once more. We have a significant amount of work remaining."

In the small settlement of Parians, now co-inhabited by elves, Trakka, with the assistance of the elf Baldur, began efforts to rebuild the settlement for the night. They concluded that moving a group of weary elves and humans at night was too perilous. Thus, they opted to prepare their food for the next day's journey. Young elven children were fed a corn porridge, while the adult elves engaged in discussions with Trakka and the other women regarding living arrangements.

"We don't have enough tarps for everyone to live under. If we are to share, the women and children will stay in tents separate from the men," Trakka suggested.

"Some of the elves might not be comfortable with being separated from their families," Baldur pointed out.

"I understand that, but you must realize that the other women may not be comfortable sharing a tent with a man, family or not," Trakka replied.

Interrupting their meeting, Nanok's mother, her face still marked by tears, angrily confronted Trakka. "You are too preoccupied with accommodating these newcomers; what about my son!?"

"I'm sorry, but we cannot retrieve his head, Moa, we're not in any position to—"

"You allow these strangers to come in and feast on our food, yet you can't find my son's head!?" the woman, stricken with grief, contends as another woman enters the tent. "Trakka, we're short on furs for the cots; some will have to sleep outside!"

Amidst the ensuing chaos and the Parian women's complaints, Trakka exhales deeply, trying to soothe them. This role isn't hers; she's just a maid to the princess, not a diplomat or politician. She desperately needs Arjana to help defuse the tension, but Arjana is absent... somewhere else.

----

In another tent, hours had passed since Birger had collapsed from casting the resurrection spell. As he lay on the cot, Arjana kept vigil beside him, only to be startled by Izzimar's entrance, draped in his sheet.

"Ah!" she exclaimed.

"Sorry, it's just me, Arjana," he said, waving his cane.

"How did you know I was here?"

"Through smell. Everyone has a unique scent. That includes you, Arjana," he explained, walking over to sit beside her. Arjana turned her gaze back to Birger, who was still soundly asleep on the cot.

"How long will he be unconscious? Is he going to be alright?"

"Oh, the old bastard's just sleeping. He probably just strained his back."

"Izzimar..." Arjana sighed.

"I was kidding.. Besides, he's lived so long, a tumble is more likely to do him in than an old resurrection spell," Izzimar continued. Arjana muttered, and turned away from him.

"What?"

"How could you be so mean to him? He looks after both of us, Izzimar."

"I said it was a joke!"

"Well, I'm not laughing!" she yells. "How could you say such things about him... After everything, you can't even give him a 'thank you'..."

He pauses, sighs, and sits beside Birger's cot.

"Honestly, I am grateful to him... And I really want to make him proud."

"Then why do you swear at him? I could never bring myself to call my father a bastard or insult him after he raised me. Unless he was cruel, but even then..." she trails off, falling silent. Confused, Izzimar urges her, "Even then, what?". Arjana falls silent, her hands clenched. "Why? Why not choose kindness instead?" Izzimar sighs and attempts to speak, but his voice quivers, and his teeth chatter. After another shiver, he starts.

"Arjana, my old clan showed no kindness.... not even to me, their weakest," he stands, touching Birger's shoulder. "I was always betrayed by my family, even when I tried to be loyal. I did everything my father asked, but he still favored my siblings over me," he continues. Izzimar trills uneasily, shakes his head, and takes a deep breath. "I have no eyes nor strength for protection, only my words. So I hurled insults at him when he wronged me. I wanted to feel strong, to reclaim my power, but the words...didn't do a thing..." Arjana watches as he drops his walking stick and rests his head on Birger's side.

"My insults are just words... they had no meaning to my father. I thought they wouldn't matter to Birger either...", he continues, lifting his head to face Birger's sleeping form.

"Have you tried to stop saying them?" Arjana suggests a bit sarcastically.

"Arjana... It's complicated..."

"Well, for once, think about the positive things about Birger.", she urges. To Arjana's surprise and fear, Izzimar fell silent. There must be good things about Birger... unless Birger was actually a terrible person.

The doubts she had about Birger resurfaced. She had been suspicious of him in the past but had suppressed those thoughts. He had kept his identity a secret from her, but he had also nursed her back to health from her strange illness. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more Birger was keeping from her. What if he really isn't a good person? No, that can't be. Surely Birger is a good elf; if he weren't, he wouldn't be helping a runaway or a lost child. So, she continues to prod.

"Well then, compare him to your father—"

"My father doesn't hold a candle to Birger!" Izzimar quickly interjects, raising his voice and startling Arjana.

"Even though Birger can be a bastard to me sometimes... at least he's not my father," he says, spitting on the ground. "My father can die a thousand deaths for what he did to me..."

Arjana falls silent, observing Izzimar as he begins to tremble with anger. She has never witnessed such intense fury from someone at the mere mention of a family member. Her curiosity is piqued, yet she remains puzzled.

"You... really don't like your father—"

"I fucking hate him," he cuts in sharply, and then... Arjana sees it—the silence and labored breathing from Izzimar. As she moves to face him, the tears welling in his eyes become apparent. "Um... Izzimar, do you... want to talk about it?" she inquires softly, touching his shoulder. He turns away, seething, and retreats to the other side of the tent. Arjana contemplates going to him, offering comfort, but hesitates, worried she might have crossed a line. Opting not to press further, she stays silent, the tent filled only with the sound of Birger's steady breathing.