Sundance - Visitors!

Welcome to another installment of Sundance, my unedited brainchild that won't leave me be. I'm happy to have you all reading. Though I am curious about the readers. Especially the one from Russia. Feel free to introduce yourselves, I love knowing my words are read. Mostly because my ego is terribly needy.

~*~

"Warrior?" Grak's voice sounded far away, and surely she imagined the concern she heard. "Warrior, I would ask after an injury I may have missed, but it appears that some patrons from the inn last night have something to discuss with you."

Sound returned all at once, angry shouts and the clang of armor on running bodies. "Oh, that doesn't look very good," she said dully. "I suppose I should stand then?"

Grak grasped her arm and helped her up. "If I may, warrior, there is enough room here that I may perform some small magics for defense."

Kajivar nodded. "You do that while I straighten out, I think my armor has taken a crawl up my backside."

Sundance - Sense of Direction

"Hey, stupid, stop," she mumbled. The horse froze in his tracks. Kajivar slid to the ground, holding tight to the saddle horns as her knees didn't want to work right away. The orc was a bit blurry on the other side of the saddle. "You got a name?" she asked.

He huffed in what sounded like amusement. "I am Grak."

"I was a bit drunk at the time-" and might still be a little tippled- "but do I remember you using sorcery?" She couldn't keep the incredulity from her voice. Orcs weren't sorcercers. It just didn't happen.

Grak simply nodded. "I have been a student of sorcery for some years."

Kajivar just nodded. "So..." She looked around, but everything was still blurry. "Where are we going?"

"I am heading to pay my respects to the Kra'kish," he said. "You are welcome to join me."

She wasn't sure how it was possible to stumble when one was standing still, but Kajivar found herself on her ass at the gelding's hooves. Her head swam with too many emotions to identify. Except despair, that one was familiar and unmistakable.

Sundance - Hangover Memories

It wasn't the first time she'd woken face-down over a saddle, Kajivar admitted to herself. Though it was a bit of a change not to be tied hand and foot. Booted feet under muddy brown robes walked at the gelding's head. Kaj struggled to remember who it might be.

Oh.

The orc.

The tavern.

Her people.

Pain shot through Kajivar's body at the memory. Though two years passed, the burning loss felt new and raw.

Two years exactly, with this sunrise.

This bright, bright sunrise. Kajivar gripped the pommel of her saddle with one hand while she fumbled in the saddle bag with the other. She was pretty sure there was at least one left.

"Such action is not advisable, warrior," the orc rumbled.

Kaj grabbed hunks of hair to move them out of the way so she could glare. "What would you know of it?"

If he was smiling she would have to kill him, hang-over or no. "At least as much as you know of me," he said quietly.

Sundance - Grak to the Rescue

Grak sighed heavily. If he was honest, he was rather glad she'd passed out before his big confession. He retrieved his tray of herbs and crouched next to the warrior woman to begin his healing.

The innkeeper stomped in as he finished. "I thought I told you to get the hell out," he snapped.

Grak sighed again. "The warrior needed a bit of healing first, good sir," he said placatingly. "We will vacate your establishment momentarily."

The dwarf stared at him like he'd sprouted another head.  "Just get off my property," he rumbled, irritated.

Grak sighed. "Of course, good sir." He lifted the warrior's saddle from the stall and turned to the horse. The gelding flattened his ears at the orc. Grak mimicked the gesture and let out a warning growl. The gelding lowered his head and blew at the ground. Grak saddled him with no difficulty.

No, the difficulty was in getting the horse's master into that saddle. Grak eyed her slumped form critically. He poked the furs around her shoulders. They were a bit dirty, but not infested. He used them to wrap her up like a sausage and tied her belly-down over the saddle.

It would be most displeasing if she died of the cold after he'd healed her wounds.

Sundance - Who We Were

The orc approached her, a cautious look on his face, ears at half-mast. "You, know something of orcish shamans?" he asked carefully.

Kajivar slid down the stall wall as a happy buzz filled her ears. "Was part of the Sundance tribe," she mumbled. "Neighbors with the Kra'kish."

He shook his head. "I am afraid I do not understand," he said. "I know of the Kra'kish, but not the Sundance. I a from the far West. I was once of the Gu'shun."

She started to snore, but the sound woke her. "Long way from home, ain't you?"

His ears flattened all the way to his skull. He sighed. "I no longer have a home among my people," he said.

But Kajivar didn't hear him, the drink proved stronger than she was. Her snores didn't wake her this time.

Sundance - Make Good the Escape

The Orc waved her apology away. “An easy mistake, given the circumstances,” he rumbled, voice crackling like fire over gravel. “I thank you for your intervention, warrior. Would you allow me the honor and let me tend your wounds?”

Kajivar’s eyebrows rose up into her hairline. “Didn’t think they let shamans go,” she said quietly. She turned away abruptly, stomping into a stall. The horse head-butted her in the shoulder, she shoved him back. She rummaged around in the hanging saddle-bags grumpily.

She grunted with triumph when her hands closed around a cool clay flask. She yanked out the cork with her teeth and guzzled a third of the liquid inside. As the world tilted sideways, she threw her arm over the horse's neck. The ensuing whinny sounded suspiciously like laughter.

"Shut up, you. Just because you couldn't chew through the cork this time. Ungrateful wretch..." she mumbled into his mane.

Sundance - Dwarves are Touchy

It was only when the barkeep lost his temper that Kajivar realized she’d made a mistake.

“YOU!” the dwarf shouted as he kicked her in the knee. “Take your pet Orc and get out of my tavern!”

She was startled to find a mirrored look of utter confusion on the Orc’s face. Not in the mood to argue with the man who provided the alcohol, she grabbed the Orc by the shoulder and herded him through the unconscious bodies on the floor and out the door.

She didn’t stop until they reached the stables. Kajivar released him and took a few steps away. A bit of a blush may have crept up her skin under the grime. She rubbed the back of her neck and didn’t look at him.

“So, uh, sorry for mistaking you for an employee,” she apologized.

Grak - The Orc

Grak felt a headache developing between his eyebrows. It curiously resembled the tiny barbarian woman in front of him in shape. He was quite certain he could have talked the other men out of violence, he was just here for nightly shelter.

Had she really called him a “boy-whore?”

He couldn’t help but admire her... efficiency, as she kept her body between him and the rest of the patrons. She took some hits, but that only seemed to make her fight harder. Grak pulled his pack from its sling across his back and crouched to start inventorying the ingredients he would need for some decent healing magics.

Here's Sundance

Sundance being the working title of this stupid story that dropped into my lap, whole hog, no thanks to Kevin Lovelace. The market for high fantasy is absolute crap, but I want to write this anyway. My other projects should really be my priorities, but this one won't leave me alone. So I'm giving it to you, one scene at a time. This is raw and completely unedited, but I hope it makes you laugh.

~*~

Kajivar had reached that level of drink where everything was hazy and beautiful, and she was moving at three-quarter speed. Which was good, because if she'd landed that punch on the bartender he'd probably have quit serving her. Instead she raised another full tankard of piss-water ale to her lips and wondered if anybody was up for a fight.

She leaned back against the bar, glad of her furs between her back and the splintery plank. She blurrily observed the room, trying to figure out which of the other patrons wouldn’t mind a good tussle of violence. When she saw a group of men hassling one of the Orcish whores, she knew she’d found a target.

She had a soft spot for Orcs, right in the nostalgia bone.

She pushed her way through the tavern patrons, raising her voice above the din. “Get out of my way you worthless lot!” She elbowed her way right up to the man hassling the Orc. She gave him the courtesy of a shoulder-tap before she planted her fist right in his face.

She cackled with glee and followed up with a knee to the groin of his friend. His other friend thought her hair might be a good place to grab and got a handful of spikes instead. They were hard to make out in the dim light, given the layers of dirt and grime.

That’s when she got a good look at the Orc. Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “When did they start hiring boy-whores?”

She missed his response due to the fist connecting with her jaw. She rounded on her assailant with a roar, keeping her back protectively to the Orc. Part of her seriously considered hiring him after this was all over.

If she could scrounge enough coin from her fallen enemies. It was the lean season.


~*~



ETA: I will be updating on Sundays and Wednesdays, if everything goes correctly.