Creatrix

Chapter 8 - The Invitation

Around the small circle of yurts the camp was busier than usual. Word had passed quickly through the village, and even further, the news had reached Accra. One of their great sorcerers had come to the village, causing great excitement and asking about Anika. Nobody could give him much information, except that she was new to the village. 

This wasn’t unusual; many adventurers stopped in the village before continuing their journey through Creation. What was unusual, he found out, was that Anika stayed away from people, she preferred her own company. She didn’t boast or chat, so no one really knew much about her. They knew she was a fighter; a remarkable one, and since she had arrived, wolves or bandits never troubled the village. Now they knew she was a hero.

Anika pulled her soft robes over her head, cringing; this opportunity will not be missed. The villagers will celebrate, put me up as a hero. She sneered. They’ll want to get too close, ask too many questions. She straightened her robes and stepped into her leather sandals; she could do this. 

From behind the heavy canvas, she could hear the villagers whispering; it sounded like there were a lot of them gathered there. It was too early for this clamour, but she knew there’d be no hiding. Anika knew people would come to see her, and she stepped into the hubbub. Some had gathered right by her door and a couple buzzed around her clapping her back; offering congratulations. 

‘Thank you,’ she said, gracefully hiding her embarrassment. They moved in closer and she accepted the praise. Then realizing it might overwhelm her, she just let it wash over her. Aitkin pushed through the crowd, he was a welcome distraction. She focused on him stumbling over his words, stuttering and struggling to express how he felt. He soon became frustrated and hugged her, but she stiffened against the sudden physical contact, and he pulled away.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘It’s just that I was, I mean, I am . . . What I mean to say is; It’s just that… I’m so glad you’re alive! It’s amazing Anika, you killed it! I thought you weren’t coming back!’ Aitkin was fraught. He knew Tyr had gone to her and something had happened, he had to hold himself back from asking what. He felt guilty. Anika couldn’t know that he’d told, unless Tyr had told her, but he was na crap liar and was sure she’d sense that something was wrong. 

There was no time for her to notice much at all, because before she knew what was happening, Sully protectively stepped in using his elbows to nudge through the group, easily moving people aside.

‘Come on people!’ he yelled with a smile. ‘Give the fine young lady some room,’ he gently put his arm across her shoulders and whispered, ‘Come with me.’  

She nodded, reached her hand behind her to say goodbye to Aitkin and followed Sully. He steered her through the gathered villagers, and people moved to let them pass. She noticed a small group of crouching women; two of them were grinding corn between heavy flat stones, the third had a sieve and a large flat bowl, and she was separating the flour, helped by a dusty young girl. They all lifted their heads to look at her. The child scowled. An identical sour expression to the women. Anika frowned at them before ducking under the dark canvas.

Sully had built a central hearth, above which, sat a large teapot on a trivet, high over a low flame. The roof canvas was pulled back to clear the air, but still the place was thick with smoke. It caught in Anika’s throat and made her eyes water; she crouched low beside the fire.

‘Well, you have caused a stir,’ Sully said, whilst filling two glasses with a steamy green brew, and handing one to her. She frowned. ‘It’s just herb tea, I gather the herbs from the hedgerow. It’s good.’ He nodded, urging her to taste it. Anika lifted it to her nose, breathed deeply the sweet aroma, light green and earthy, it smelt good. She thanked him before taking a sip.

‘Yeah. You’re right,’ she said, ‘I have caused a stir, but I didn’t mean to.’ 

‘But if you go around killing Grimoalds, then you’re bound to draw attention to yourself.’ He moved around the place, picking things up for no clear reason, other than putting them down again in another place.

‘One of the sorcerers from Accra has been staying in the village; he’s looking for you.’ 

‘What does he want with me?’ Anika asked.

‘He’s curious, everyone knows you killed the Grimoald.’ Sully told her.

‘I killed a demon, simple as that. Nothing else. I just killed a demon, that’s all! What's the big deal?’ she said.

‘People want to know how you killed him. Nobody survives a Grimoald alone. They want to know what happened.’ Crouching by the fire opposite her, he narrowed his smiling eyes. ‘They think you have some great power and want to know where you come from.’ He looked at her and waited for a response. She held her drink close, felt it warm against her chest and stared into the fire. 

‘I don’t know what happened, or what power they think I have!’ She said, and then more heated, ‘and I don’t see why I should say where I come from!’ 

‘People will ask, that’s all I’m saying.’  He sulked. Anika finished her tea, told him she should leave, and thanked him before going outside. 

The women were still hunched over the corn like wary crows; they turned around to see her emerge from Sully’s place, and then huddled together again in a shadowy gossip. A pretty young woman laughed out loud, rousing the attention of a small group of lads who were returning from a hunting trip. She flirted with them as they gathered in closer around her. The village was still full of activity; everyone appeared to be occupied, trading, chatting or generally rushing around, maybe on a quest or a favour of some kind. 

Hay was rolled in the fields beyond, and the air smelt fresh and green, it drifted sweet on the breeze. Several children ducked in and out of the shadows of a small copse of trees that sat back from the narrow path.A rope had been tied onto a wide oak tree, for a swing, and a young blonde girl swung from it - she kicked her legs and laughed. Her knees were grazed and her dress was shabby, yet she looked happy, an adventurous child. Anika smiled at the charming scene and crossed the path to her yurt. She found a notice pinned to her door.

You are invited to attend a grand celebration, a feast in honour of your heroics. The festivities will begin at sundown in the communal dome. We hope you can attend to collect your reward.

The Council of Elders