The Lady Penitent

XXVIII. What We Must

"So I hear you're headed back to Tamaris. Gonna go scare some of those nobles into behaving?" Murdak said as he approached Holland. She was scrubbing the last of the scorch marks off her armor. The metal didn't take a shine even when abraded. The woman was certainly missing the shining armor of a proper hero. For a moment, the orc was thoughtful as he watched. She's doing the same to her soul, he thought. Seeing if that black can ever come off. At least with her armor, she seemed successful.

"That's the plan," Holland said. "Along the road, though. Elf magic is helpful, but we have to talk to Dhir Daral and tell them they have a lot of work ahead. Thadash gave Khagra a list of what approximately will be needed. If we can get your forces equipped properly, we'll be able to cause the legions some serious damage. Whatever happens, it'll be more resistance than they anticipated."

"Enough to make them change their minds?" the warleader said with a bit of a chuckle. He knew what the answer would be.

Holland shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe if we kill enough of the Princes."

"Seven, right? That's one for me, one for you, one for the knight, one for your beast-man, one for the imp, and two for whoever finishes with their first one fast enough," Murdak said with a grin.

The penitent smiled and shook her head. "You're as bad as Vladan," she said, wiping away the last of the black that she had managed to finally get off.

"A warrior fights better when he looks forward to death," the orc said with a shrug. "The gods have already woven your fate, yes? You will not live a moment longer than they have decided, but you can choose to meet it with a heart of fire."

"I was always more ice than fire." She tucked the rag and sandpaper into her bag as she caught sight of her friends on the approach. They looked ready to go. Murdak had made certain they had plenty of supplies.

"I hear the cold can burn just as fiercely." Murdak held out a hand. "It is an honor to know you, Holland. I am sorry our time together here is so short. I'll see you in the south, and then on the field of battle. We'll teach the demons fear."

Holland accepted the hand as she got up to her feet. "I'll try to keep your sister out of trouble, Murdak. But no promises."

"Good," Murdak said with a grin. "Too much safety stunts growth. Dwarves say you can't make steel without a hot fire. You'll be a damn fine Goth for her to follow."

The penitent laughed. "Passable. I'm not much of a leader."

"That's what the good ones always say. I've heard what your friends say about you, Holland. If anyone can take down demon princes, it's you and yours." The orc pulled her into a hug she hadn't been expecting, brief but crushing. Then he held her at arm's length like he had his sister. "Don't have to have the Sight to see that. Be well, Holland. Try not to pull anything before we hit that battlefield. You'll want to be fresh as a daisy. Maybe wear something nice. After all, it'll be a big day for the Imperium—the day their Princes die will be the most important day of their lives. Wouldn't want to disrespect that."

Holland couldn't help a smile. The orc's confidence was infectious. It would be good to have him at her back. She barely knew Murdak, but she knew he wasn't going to abandon her when the fighting reached a fever pitch. "I'll make sure I clean up for it," she said.

"Good woman," he said approvingly as her companions arrived. "Suppose I'd better let you go before Thadash starts to worry I'm going to adopt you. Mind, you'd be an improvement over the imp."

"Love you too, oaf," Khagra said as she started to saddle up Zajar. She'd already said goodbye to her brother and Thadash in private earlier. Murdak never seemed too worried when she ran off, but Thadash always misted up when it was time for her to go. Shamans were supposed to keep a strong front, so they'd talked in the tent. "We'll see you again before you know it."