The Lady Penitent

XIII. Khagra and the Priests

Orange firelight played across Holland's face as she watched Ardashir turn their rations into something more palatable. The dried meat would become stew and the hard-tack would at least be warm. They'd found a space sheltered from the snow by rock, so they had dry ground to lay their bedrolls out on. She hadn't said much on their journey thus far, even though it had been more than a month since they left Tamaris in the dead of night. Kel Badur was visible from their camp, a great crack that split a mountain in half, offering passage to the northwest. Ardashir had tried to make conversation with her and she had indulged him to a degree, but for the most part, she let him and Vladan do all the talking.

Besides, her thoughts were often preoccupied these days as Deus whispered to her. She tried to tune the Deceiver out, but that required all of her concentration these days. At the moment, the shard was quiet, probably planning the next line to try on her. Holland was grateful for the peace, whatever the reason. It was starting to wear on her, particularly the difficulty sleeping. She was wearing her surcoat over the armor she hadn't bothered to take off yet and had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders over that. Maël was covered up as well, though he was beginning to get shaggy in response to the cold anyway.

A branch snapped out in the woods and Vladan sat bolt upright. The anthroparion had been laying by the fire, soaking in the warmth. The cold bothered him less than it bothered them because of his fur and hot blood, but even he had put on a woolen tunic over his thick hide. "Trouble," he growled, getting up.

"Probably a wild animal," Ardashir said quietly, even though he'd reached over for his sword. His mace was still lashed to his saddle with his shield.

Holland shrugged off the blanket. "I'll go look," she said, standing up. "Stay here."

"Lady Penitent—" Ardashir started uncomfortably. He didn't like the idea of her leaving alone.

She didn't stop or pay much attention before walking out into the snow. It was only a few inches deep, but the crunch negated any chance of real stealth. The woods were dark and quiet as she moved out, at least for a moment. As she turned her head, she caught the flash of animal eyes reflecting back the firelight. The problem was that those animal eyes were actually above her own by a good six inches, which meant something tall. Holland let her hand come to rest on her sword, but she didn't make any sudden movements. She wasn't certain what it was yet, after all.

"Peace," a rough alto voice said cautiously. The fire flashed brighter for a moment as Ardashir put more wood on, revealing a powerfully built female figure in front of Holland, though definitely not a human one judging from the blocky facial features and the gleam of tusks. The figure was holding an eight-foot spear with a diameter big enough to leave an unfortunately large hole in the penitent if she moved wrong.

Holland held up both of her hands so the woman could see them. "Peace," she echoed. "There are two others with me. We are just travelers."

The figure nodded. "As am I," the stranger said, letting the spear lean against her shoulder in a non-threatening position. She was probably over six and a half feet tall.

"Then why don't you share our fire?" Holland offered.

She saw a gleam of yellow teeth. "I would like that," the figure said, moving forward into the firelight. "My name is Khagra of the Wing." The light revealed orcish features. Khagra had a blocky face surrounded by a mane of long, dark, wiry hair. Her dark eyebrows raised slightly at the sight of their small group, but she was still smiling crookedly with some combination of gratitude and amusement. Her jaw was strong to the point of being jutting and her nose was broad and flat. Her grey skin was covered with whorls and dots of red paint, giving her an almost feral appearance, but she seemed quite calm.