The Lady Penitent

XVII. The Others

Holland stirred a large chunk of rock with her foot. "This looks promising," she said wryly. The remains of a golem were scattered across the floor. Beyond was the broken remnants of a door, splintered wood and iron bindings hanging from the hinges. If she had to guess, she would have wagered that her friends were not happy when they woke up.

"How?" Olon demanded, wild-eyed.

"They're resourceful people," Holland said, drawing her sword. She wasn't going to wade into a fight without a weapon if she could avoid it, no matter what the Heartforge had said. "You and your men should stay back. I'll find them. I doubt they've gone far."

She heard a crashing sound and shouts from further down the hall. Holland loped that way, trying not to grin. Yes, it could sabotage the tentative good will she'd created with Rust, but it was undeniably amusing as well. The dwarves deserved a little bit of damage. She rounded the corner a ways down to see Vladan wielding an armored dwarf like a flail, keeping the assembled ranks of guards at bay. Khagra had a stolen spear in her hands, deftly creating an opening towards the next door with the help of Ardashir, who apparently found a dwarven heavy axe as an acceptable weapon. He was maneuvering it quite well. The dwarves hadn't taken any lethal casualties yet, but only because her friends were holding back.

"Vladan, put the dwarf down!" Holland called.

The anthroparion looked over in her direction and grinned, flinging the dwarf into the ranks of the guards, scattering them backwards and creating a clear path to Holland. "Took you long enough!" he called jovially. The fight seemed to have put him in a good mood, even if he was scraped up and bruised from brawling with the golem. "You missed a fine fight!"

"I saw," Holland said, approaching her companions. She lowered her blade. "I have an understanding with the new Forge-Tender. The fight is over."

Vladan looked crestfallen, but he relaxed obediently. It was Khagra who stayed stiff and ready for combat. "It might not last," the orc said, glaring at the dwarves. When Olon rounded the corner, the orc snarled and gripped her spear more tightly. Her yellow eyes looked feral.

Ardashir put a hand on the orc's arm. "Khagra, it's alright," the hooded knight said soothingly. He was the cool head out of the three.

The orc scowled but lowered the spear. Holland was grateful for the intervention. There was no way in hell she was taking a spear for Olon and she didn't want to have to deal with his dead body. The penitent moved forward, checking her friends for injuries. Not that she could do anything about them, considering her lack of healing skill. She knew to put pressure on a wound that was bleeding and to keep things clean. More than that was beyond her. Holland's gift had always been for breaking people, not putting them back together. "Everyone alright?" the penitent asked.

Vladan shook out his hands and grinned. "I've a hard head," he said proudly.

"Perhaps next time you should refrain from using it as a weapon against a golem?" Ardashir muttered, though he was grinning despite himself. The comment made Khagra laugh, easing the tension in the orc's body.

"I'm sorry I missed it," Holland said with amusement.

"What happened to you?" Khagra asked, keeping a suspicious eye on the dwarves, who were withdrawing down the hallway to speak with Olon.

"I had an adventure," Holland said. It seemed the best way to describe what had happened. The phantoms of her past were being pushed back by the reminders of the life she was currently living. "There is a dwarf on our side, the new Forge-Tender. He's working at the Heartforge now, but I think he'll help us."