I Don’t Want To Fight (ch3)

Synopsis: A snow storm catches Madga off guard. Quickly seeking shelter, she runs into a group of Suuroo warriors... just before something comes out of the snows to attack them.

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Madga sniffed and wiped her reddened nose for the ninth and ninth time on her wool cloak, wrapped around her like a huge blanket and held by a wooden broach. The moisture from her breath melted and quickly froze again on the fabric surrounding her lower face.

The cold rushed into her lungs and caught her off guard. She coughed and a big cloud of fog puffed into the air.

Her boots crunched across the snow between the trees and brush. Something tugged on her pack and she inhaled and turned, only to see that a thorny bush had snagged on a cord of rope. She breathed out with another cough. She shifted the spear in her arms to free up one hand, and then twisted and carefully lifted the thin, prickly branch with her big mitt. The thorns caught on the mitt but let go after some gentle coaxing.

From somewhere above her the full moon shone through the pine branches here and there, setting the odd flake on the ground to sparkle. Every breath released a puff of fog. When nothing jumped out at her from the dark, silent forest she hugged the spear again and moved on, walking by the light of the moon and stars filtering between the trees.

There was only the sound of her feet and breath, until eventually a rustling caught her ears and she looked up. The lower branches around and above her were quiet, but a wind had begun blowing across the tops of the trees. It hissed through the needles as it grew stronger and stronger.

Finally the branches above her swayed and snow flew between them. Her eyes widened and she searched for shelter.

The wind howled through the forest without a clear voice or direction. The blowing snow thickened until only nearby trees could be seen.

The moon and stars disappeared. The cold nipped around her skin and the flying snow poked at her eyes. She squinted and walked with her hands holding the spear out in front of her. The bushes and branches scrapped against it, but eventually it gave way.

She took a few more careful steps but felt nothing. She shifted her grip on the spear and slowly waved it around, but still she felt nothing.

The little clouds of fog came faster. She turned around and walked with the spear pointed outward again, but after a handful of steps she still hadn’t returned to the forest.

She lowered the spear. She stood silent in the endless whirl of wind and snow, whimpering and hugging the spear tight in her arms. She had made a grave error by walking too close to the open plains.

Her knees trembled. She wanted to fall to the ground but a firm, and not unkindly feeling kept her upright. She shivered as the unruly winds pushed the cold through her clothes. The winds tugged and tore at her hood, flinging it off to reveal the hat and black curls underneath. She fixed it but seconds later it was ripped off again.

She reached up to fix it a second time but froze when something pricked at her ears. She heard it again and focused on the sound, trying to parse it from the howling wind.

An irritated voice shouted and was quickly followed by others. Another one responded. The wind seemed to relax, lightening the veil of snow just enough to reveal a warm light.

The snow rushed in again and the welcoming sight was lost. But she took a breath and headed toward it, hoping she wouldn’t stray in the dark. Strands of wind pushed and pulled at her once or twice but this time it was gentle, as though trying to nudge her in the right direction.

The voices grew and she breathed in relief, but still her heart sped up at their tone of voice.

“We protect people like you from the Tasoragh and angry spirits!” a woman shouted.

An elderly man shot back, “I wouldn’t need protecting if you ceased fighting each other! Then there wouldn’t be angry spirits!”

The others erupted in anger.

“What!”

“Are you really going to leave us in this blizzard!?” one cried.

“It’s your responsibility to house us warriors,” another snarled. The elderly man scowled and stepped back but one of the warriors kept the door open.

Madga slowed to a stop some distance behind them. They didn’t seem to notice. They were blond Suuroo warriors, dressed in thick wool and fur clothes, with long wool cloaks and sturdy fur and leather boots. Spears and packs were strapped to the backs of half of them, and all had small round shields. Strangely there were no horses or a chariot in sight.

She tensed and took a step back when their voices rose again.

Her boot crunched in the snow at the same time a low growl rumbled through the storm. She froze. The warriors went quiet and turned. Their eyes acknowledged her presence, but moved on and quickly searched for the source of the noise.

“What was that?” the elderly man asked, shattering the silence.

Another growl erupted and angry, unnatural red eyes swivelled toward them in the dark. Madga stiffly looked over her shoulder and the snow thinned, giving them all a view of a very large plains lion.

The great cat glared at them. Its pale fur rose high on the back of its neck. Its tail dragged across the snow. The wind brushed the fur on its back, which briefly shifted into unkept, artistic swirls and wedges before reforming into animal fur.

It snarled with sharp teeth. A thick and muscled limb covered in spots took a step toward them.

“In. Now,” one of the women firmly said.

The warriors slowly backed up. The man argued and the cat growled again. The warriors piled into his house, effectively silencing him. Madga slowly turned and backed toward them, watching as the spirit-animal advanced.

Her heart hammered at her ribs, and her breath quickened against her will. The lion matched each step, before slowly lowering into a crouch.

Her mind went blank as her body shouted at her to run. She turned and at the same time someone grabbed her shoulder and effortlessly pulled her into the house.

The woman slammed the door behind them and the lion roared from the other side. A loud, hard thump on the wood followed, and the woman and a man pushed against the door. Two other warriors ran past the elderly man to grab his cot and shove it against the door. Then his cauldron.

“Hey! That’s my bed! And my supper!!”

The lion snarled deep and loud.

“Shut up,” one of the warriors spat at him.

“How-how dare you?!” The old man barely recovered from his shock as he said, “I am your elder.”

“You are,” the man hissed back. “But you’re also agitating the spirit outside!”

“Me?!”

A yowl sliced through the air and everyone stared at the door. A deep growl followed.

“Enough,” said the woman who had pulled Madga to safety. She was tall and thin. Muscles strained against her clothes. “Ready yourselves.”

She removed her pack and cloak, revealing bone daggers attached to her hips and legs.

She took her round shield from her pack, and calmly said, “Since the spirit isn’t giving up we’ll have to defeat it. Otherwise it will be a danger to not only him, but to travellers like her.”

Madga had stepped farther into the rectangular Suuroo-style house. At the mention of her she swallowed and shrunk into herself.

The rest of the warriors began shucking their packs and travelling gear much like their leader had. Soon they were carrying spears, daggers, and shields at the ready. They nodded at the woman with respect, trust, and readiness.

The old man grumbled, “You had better not bring your fight in here.”

The man that had been arguing with him scowled and gestured about the room. “It’s our fight. Do you really think it’ll leave you alone? It nearly knocked down your door.”

Despite his heavy wrinkles the elder straightened and puffed out his thin chest. “And as I said it would have no interest in me if you weren’t here in the first place. If you would cease your squabbling with the Tasoragh-”

The man’s eyes flew wide. “‘Squabbling’!? Centuries of war and the things they’ve pulled you call squabbling!?”

A roar shook the air and the fire itself seemed to flicker. Heavy thumps sounded on the snow-covered roof. After a pause, the faint sound of scratching reached their ears. Both men paled as dust rained down from the ceiling.

The gaze of one of the other women shifted downward to Madga. The woman’s blond hair had been tightly tied in braids around her head. Woven in were painted bone beads and a few ribbons.

“Can you use that?” she asked.

Madga’s terrified gaze left the ceiling and stared in wide-eyed confusion. The woman’s eyes flickered to the spear she hugged in her arms. Madga’s mouth opened in a silent ‘Oh’. She shook her head.

The spirit-lion roared again in frustration.

The woman nodded and stepped closer.

She said, “Then you’re going to learn today, because we might need everyone on hand. I’m Sena.”

Her words squeaked out. “Ma-ma-Madga- but I- I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to kill it.”

Sena shook her head. “It’s not just about killing. It’s about protecting people who can’t protect themselves.”

“And ourselves,” the second man added dryly.

The old man glanced at them but his gaze was curiously focused on Sena.

Sena shook her head ruefully at the other warrior. “Yes, in this case you’re right, Owes, but only this time. Okay, Madga, pack off, please, arms up. That spear is a little long for you but I think we can make it work.”

Madga reluctantly did as she was told under Sena’s expectant gaze. Once again, hand’s trembling, she held the spear with both hands.

“Spread your hands at one end, it’s not a twirly druid’s staff.”

One of the women snorted, temporarily distracted from their strategy meeting.

Madga glanced at her. “Sorry,” she mumbled to Sena and did as she was told.

Sena reached for her left hand and Madga instinctively stepped back.

Sena raised her hands in an apology. “I wanted to place your hands properly. Can I?”

Madga mumbled and nodded. Her muscles relaxed as Sena positioned her right hand at the end of the staff. She quickly walked her through some thrusting maneuvers. Madga’s hands shook at first but to her surprise they slowly relaxed with each move.

A great thump sounded through the house and her hands trembled again. Everyone paused to listen for more sounds through the howling of snow and wind.

A loud bang sounded on the door and Madga jumped. The stew in the cauldron sloshed.

“What about you? Can you fight?” asked the other woman.

The elderly man shook his head.

One of the men quietly swore. “Telling us what to do but you can’t even defend yourself,” he muttered.

The old man’s eyes narrowed and his mouth thinned under his thick white beard. “I don’t need to know how to fight to know that it accomplishes nothing.”

Another yowl set Madga’s teeth on edge. Another bang and she again clutched the spear tight to her chest.

Sena looked at her. “Hold it properly. Hopefully you won’t need to use it but keep the head up just in case.” She turned to her leader. “Oiesuu, what’s the plan?”

Oiesuu nodded once and repeated to her what she and the other warriors had discussed.

While they spoke, Madga’s eyes travelled to the door. A low growl snuck in through the crack between it and the wall. A snowflake drifted in, accompanied by the sound of claws scratching on wood.

She swallowed. She nearly brought the spear close to her chest again but stopped herself. Her right hand anxiously turned the staff. A design had once been carved into it, but the wood was incredibly smooth. The craftwork didn’t catch on her skin as it spun in her left hand. Gnarled branches, or bolts of lightning, ran from one end of the spear to the other. And long, smoothed bone had been affixed to the top as the point. Other than the design, the weapon largely resembled any ordinary spear.

Sena nodded regarding Oiesuu’s plan of action, and the other warriors nodded again. Oiesuu returned it and faced the door. She glanced at Madga and the elder. She waved for them to back away and they followed her instruction. The older man watched, his expression a mix of frustration, fear, and worry. His eyes flashed to Madga as she neared but he said nothing.

With a quick look from Oiesuu, Sena and Owes moved the cauldron as quietly as possible. They went to the cot next, just as a growl came from outside. They paused for a long moment, glancing at each other, before moving it. Oiesuu and the others slid into its place as it was taken away, weapons and shields at the ready. Sena and Owes joined them at the rear.

Madga’s heart trembled in her chest. At some point she had stopped breathing and she forced herself to inhale.

The house was silent except for the crackling fire and the wild winds. Oiesuu gestured and Owes slipped around with quiet steps. He shifted the bone dagger to his other hand and grabbed the door handle. He waited for the order.

Oiesuu nodded and Owes yanked it open.

Outside the lion jerked around, interrupted in its anxious pacing. Its lips twitched up in a snarl.

Step after step, Oiesuu walked out the door, her spear raised in one hand with a small round shield in the other. She didn’t look away as she began to circle her adversary, allowing the others to follower her outside. The lion snarled again, its red eyes twitching from one warrior to the next.

Madga kept well within the house, spear held up in her hands, which were shaking once again.

Snow distorted Oiesuu’s figure as she made it to the opposite side of the lion. Her hood fell down and her braided hair whipped around her in the wind, but she didn’t move to fix it. A few of the other warriors’ hoods were ripped off but their focus too remained on their opponent.

Sena gave a test jab and the lion snarled. It took a step back, but Oiesuu jabbed from the other side and its head whipped around with a growl.

Something moved out of the corner of her eye and Madga tensed. She minutely as she realized it was the elder. He slowly neared the door for a better look. Madga bit her lip. Her feet shifted, unsure, but she followed him with the tip of the spear held out in front like Sena had taught her.

The lion’s form shifted. The swirls were tense, jagged. Its tail lashed in agitation and it suddenly leapt for the third woman. She twisted, jabbed, and the lion roared. It shuffled away from her, droplets of blood speckling the white snow. At the same time swirls and wedges floated away from the body to dissipate in the wind.

Its head lowered, body tense for fight or flight. Ears flattened back as the warriors yelled and jabbed at it. It growled, and the noise rumbled through their chests.

The old man shook his head. “Can’t they see its just frightened. Exactly like a cornered animal, and all because of this fighting.” Madga glanced at him, and to her horror he flung out his hand and shouted, “You’re just making the spirit angrier!”

The man he had been arguing with earlier clenched his teeth and his head spun toward him. Owes glanced at them.

“Shut up! Do you really think if we left it alone like this it would-”

The lion yowled as though someone hit it and it lunged for Owes. His eyes flashed in surprise but he held his spear firm. However the lion weaved past it and smacked him with a heavy paw. The claws tore through his clothes and bit into his shoulder. He cried out and blood arched in the air to scatter on the snow and the lion.

Madga stepped back as the fight truly began, as though the attack on Owes had suddenly cut a cord of tension. Shouts and growls intermingled with the howling of the wind and blows were exchanged. Distressed and frozen in helplessness, the elder’s eyes flickered from one fighter to the next.

The lion turned and its eyes landed on them. Madga stepped back again but the elder was still frozen with his hands pressed against the side of the doorway. Blood dripped from the lion’s shoulder and face, and swirls curled up from both wounds.

The spirit-animal tensed and snarled as the man who the elder had argued with shuffled to stand between them. A thin line of blood was soaking through his leggings.

Without looking back, he said, “Get in and shut the door.”

The elder didn’t respond.

“Hey, get moving,” he said louder. The lion growled. Sena jabbed at its flank but it snarled and jumped at her.

The man turned and snarled, “Move!”

The elder seemed to snap out of his frozen state. He blinked. His lips curled. “I-”

The lion shook its head, fog puffing from its nostrils. A low voice moaned through the wind, Stop.

The warriors froze. The two men turned to stare. Madga’s eyes widened.

The spirit’s tail lashed. It spoke without moving its mouth.

It yowled and its head shook again. Stoooooop!

The younger man breathed, “What-?”

STOOOOP! It blindly charged and bowled him over before knocking the old man to the side against the door and running into the house. Madga scrambled back, dropping the spear and tripping over her feet to fall on her rear.

The lion ran through the fire and stumbled over the spear that the man had accidentally lodged in its chest. It crashed hard against the opposite wall and cracked the wood, but as the house was partially buried the wall refused to give.

It stopped where it lay. Blood trickled to the floor, and more swirls drifted into the air to fade like smoke.

The warriors returned to the house. Oiesuu helped up the man the lion had ran over, and Sena wrapped the elder’s arm around her shoulder before pulling him to his feet.

The third woman only had a few scratches. She took careful steps toward the spirit-animal with her spear at the ready. Madga held her breath as her spear’s tip neared the body.

The lion shifted. Madga squeaked and the woman jumped back.

Stop… fight.... The moan weakened and turned into a whisper. At the same time its entire body faded into the swirls and wedges and mist before disappearing completely.

There was a brief pause. With no body to keep it upright, the spear fell to the floor with two thunks.

Madga took a breath, not realizing she had held onto it.

Owes groaned from where he leaned against the door frame.

Oiesuu quietly inhaled and turned to the third woman. “Ruucu, lay Owes down. Reeara, are you alright?”

The man straightened and stepped out of her care. He nodded. “Just a few bruises and this cut on my leg. I can look after Owes, but… from what I can see, he’ll need a better healer than me.”

“Do you best. Keep him alive. We can’t leave until the storm passes.”

A scowl twitched on Reeara’s face. “Whenever that’ll be.” He sighed. “Alright, elder, I’ll need-”

“I’ll do it.” The old man straightened and removed his arm from around Sena’s shoulders. She eyed him but he remained firmly on his feet.

He coughed and winced from some pain. He explained, “My father was a bit of a healer.” He travelled to a wooden box. “Once I was older I learned an unfair amount from a druid-healer.”

“What about yourself?” Sena asked as she joined him. She kneeled and opened the box for him.

He grunted. “Thank you. If you could use the lid and bring everything, I’d be grateful,” he muttered. “I’m fine. You’re friend there took most of the damage from the spirit’s charge.”

Reeara snorted. The tips of his long beard caught between his arms as he crossed them but he didn’t bother fixing it. He shifted, keeping some weight off his injured leg. “And who’s fault is that?”

The elder’s eyes flashed at him as he passed on his way to Owes. The anger dimmed when he looked away. “It’s everyone’s fault, if what just happened means what I think it means.”

Reeara paused to look at the place the spirit had been.

“If you can at least wrap your leg I suggest you get a move on,” the elder said.

Reeara scowled but went to his pack.

Madga’s eyes lingered on the cracked wood at the end of the house. The dirt on the other side remained there, frozen and dark.

Her head turned as Sena kneeled in front of her with her spear. “Did you get hurt?”

Madga shook her head.

Sena smiled. “Good.” She held out her spear. Reluctantly, Madga took it and followed Sena to her feet.

Sena’s gaze turned to her black hair. Her smile slowly faded as it lingered there. Madga glanced away, her heart beating too loud.

But Owes groaned and stole Sena’s attention. Madga quietly breathed out.

Ruucu was helping Owes out of the last tunic layering his chest. The blood had already begun hardening with the tunic stuck to it, and removing the shirt tore the sealed blood away. Fresh blood began running down his shoulder and onto the cot. He hissed, his skin already pale from blood loss.

Once the tunic was gone, the elder man kneeled on the floor by Owes with a grunt. He tutted at the state of the man’s shoulder.

“All this fighting, and look where it’s got you,” he muttered. Reeara stopped in wrapping his injury. Wide-eyed, incredulous, he opened his mouth but the man continued, “But I… I suppose I owe you all an, erm, an apology.”

Reeara’s mouth snapped shut.

The elder man cleared his throat. “Now see, I won’t apologize for my stance on the matter, I won’t. But… I see that I’m not entirely correct either. I see now that your type of fighting is also about protecting others, not just attacking an enemy for the sake of it.”

Several expressions flickered over Reeara’s face. He glanced at Ruucu, who shrugged, surprised.

Returning to his injury, Reeara asked, “Well, uh, I guess I’m glad you see it that way…? What’s your name?”

The elder didn’t answer right away. Oiesuu placed a bowl of water next to him. It had been snow that she had melted and boiled next to the fire as he and Reeara spoke. He muttered thanks and dipped a cloth into the warm water. Owes inhaled but otherwise didn’t react as the man began wiping the gashes on his shoulder.

“I am Dseeisret.”

Owes’ eyes flashed up to him. Sena, Ruucu, and Reeara froze. Oiesuu remained still. Madga’s eyes widened. They flickered from one person to the next. She shuffled back.

“What?” Ruucu asked in a tight voice.

Dseeisret continued working. He confirmed, “My mother was Suuroo. My father—the healer—was Tasoragh.” He made a quiet noise, like a sound between a huff and a chuckle. “You can’t tell now, but my hair wasn’t quite as bright as yours. Some called it the colour of dirty straw. Not my favourite description, but I suppose it could have been worse.”

Ruucu said, “You lied to us.”

He didn’t bother looking at her. “I did no such thing. You forced yourselves into my home, the home of a Tasoragh-Suuroo, when I said I didn’t want you here.”

“But-”

“Leave it,” Oiesuu said. Her gaze lingered on the elder. “There is no one here to help him. One Tasoragh isn’t a danger to us.”

Ruucu stared at her like she wanted to protest. Instead she turned her head and glared at the wall.

Oiesuu slowly turned and kicked charcoal and rocks into place, roughly repairing the fire, before sitting next to it. Sena’s gaze travelled over Madga one last time before joining her leader.

Madga swallowed.

Reeara stared down at his leg in thought. He slowly finished wrapping it and cut the cloth with a bone knife. Madga hugged her spear as she watched him return everything to his pack and stand with a wince. He brought the pack by the cot and knelt next to Dseeisret.

The old man raised a brow. Owes’ tired but wide eyes glanced from the potential threat to his fellow warrior. Reeara nodded at him, which seemed to reassure him a little. He relaxed, although his gaze remained on Dseeisret.

“Alright,” Reeara said in a clear voice, nearly in challenge, “Show me what a Tasoragh healer can do.”

Dseeisret smiled from under his long white beard. He cleared his throat. “Well, first….”

Madga looked at the women around the fire. She hesitated.

There was movement out of the corner of her eyes and she gasped and turned. Ruucu paused, looking at her. Madga didn’t say anything, and so Ruucu continued to sit down on the floor. Ruucu turned to the mens’ work, curious but wary as she straightened to get a better look.

Madga breathed out. She shifted on her feet before choosing to take a seat at the end of the cot, not sure where else to go until the storm could die down.

Her ears pricked as Reeara whispered, “I’m… you might have been right… about our fighting bothering the spirits.”

“Ah,” Dseeisret’s shoulder twitched upward in a weak shrug. “I’m not a druid, but in my life I’ve seen things like that. I know it affects them. Affects humans too. I hate seeing it altogether.”

“Not sure I can completely agree with you. My cousin was killed by… the Tasoragh.” He glanced at Dseeisret before looking down. “I’m not sure I could ever walk away.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve also seen people cut down by Suuroo. I hope I’ll live to see tomorrow.”

“Of course you will,” Reeara promised.

Dseeisret nodded his thanks. After a moment, he said, “I accept your apology, by the way. About my being right about the spirits.”

Reeara’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Just keep working, elder.”

Dseeisret chuckled quietly.

Madga huddled against the wall, hugging the spear and listening to their voices and their work. Her eyes grew heavy, and though she tried to fight it, eventually she drifted off to sleep.