T Lain - The Bloody Eye

The cleric’s peripheral vision confirmed that Alhandra, Krusk, and he were each faced with one remaining foe apiece. If he had not been locked in his own duel, Jozan would probably have noticed Alhandra’s dented armor and limited agility. He might have sensed from her reduced movement that the bent armor formed a sharp edge inside that was already slicing through padding and skin seriously enough to cause her to wince with each movement.

As he tripped his foe and brought the mace down in a fatal closing to this duel, Jozan couldn’t see Yddith touching her emerald pseudo-eye and wearing a confused expression on her face, as though she herself was wondering how she projected that green flash of light. Neither could he have seen the large eagle glide overhead and circle lazily back toward the combat.

None of the heroes heard the eagle’s gentle landing in the soft earth behind Yddith. No one saw the feathers recede and the crouched body transform into human form. Muscles enlarged, bones cracked, and skin stretched quickly and magically as Hassq appeared behind the unsuspecting young woman. His hand was over her mouth and a bone blade pointed at her throat before she even realized the danger. The druid dragged her silently away, even as the battle boiled over for the remaining trio.

Jozan stepped away from the orc he had just slain. He moved toward Krusk in time to see the orc thrust at Krusk’s chest and Krusk answer with a woodsman’s stroke that could have felled his foe like a small tree if not for the orc’s chain shirt. Jozan ran past the orc as Krusk ripped his blade from the torn armor and immediately plunged it right back into the red wound. Krusk obviously didn’t need the cleric’s help.

Alhandra didn’t appear to need his help, either. A wounded orc rested at her feet and, judging from the way it was bleeding, it wouldn’t live long without Jozan’s aid. The cleric knew that this sole survivor of the battle might be their best source of information about the strength and position of the enemy. So he knelt beside the wounded orc and used the basic training of his order to staunch the bleeding and apply ointments and binding. Then, realizing that it would take divine healing to stabilize the fallen orc, he prepared his healing supplication. Then he noticed Krusk coming toward them with murder in his eye.

The half-orc grabbed the invalid with one hand and looked into his eye. “Where girl?” growled the angry barbarian.

Jozan and Alhandra looked at each other, wondering what Krusk was talking about. As they glanced around the area, both realized that Yddith was missing and they understood why Krusk was so upset. Still, they begged Krusk not to kill the fallen soldier. All they received for their intercession was a warning snarl from the half-orc.

“ Where girl ?” repeated the barbarian, emphasizing his question by shaking the wounded orc’s body so severely that Jozan imagined the bandages must all have torn away from the wound.

The half-orc gripped his captive around the neck and began crushing the orc’s windpipe. Jozan and Alhandra quickly moved to pull the half-orc off his prey, but before they could grab him, the orc answered, spewing monosyllables and blood at his inquisitor

“Hassq has girl. Needs gem to get slaves!”

Krusk let the orc fall to the ground and motioned for Jozan to keep their captive alive while he paced around the clearing. After invoking Pelor’s power to heal the captive, Jozan walked to Krusk, who was bent over and studying the ground where Yddith had stood. Krusk pointed out the marks of the eagle’s claws and kept staring at the disturbed ground where the druid’s transformation had occurred. Jozan watched him trail the heavy footprints of the druid into a copse of bushes and trees, then return after he lost the trail.

To Jozan’s chagrin, Krusk immediately returned to the captive orc, grabbed him by the shoulders, and began interrogating him fiercely once more.

“Where Hassq?” he asked with an expression on his face that seemed tantamount to death itself. “Where Hassq?”

The captive looked to Jozan for assistance, but realized that there was little the cleric could do on his behalf, even if he were willing to intervene.

“Hassq take girl one eye!” the orc responded. Seeing that neither the half-orc nor the cleric quite understood, he continued, “Hassq take girl one eye! One-Eye need gem. Hassq get gold. Gold buy food for cold time.”

“Where One-Eye?” asked Krusk, softening his demeanor slightly since the captive was answering his questions.

“One-Eye at mine,” answered the captive, “gold mine.”

Krusk laughed grotesquely. He released the orc and stepped away from the prisoner’s prone body. He looked at Jozan as if to gauge the character of the priest of Pelor.

Satisfied, Krusk said, “That must be your answer. One-Eye is probably the priest you’re seeking and the gold mine must be where he is. With Pelor’s help, we should be able to foil the cleric’s plan and rescue Yddith. Assuming, that is, we can get this pond scum to show us where the mine is.”

Jozan was frozen in place. Alhandra only laughed.

“That has to be the most words I’ve ever heard you string together,” said the priest.

“Look,” replied the barbarian, “when you want these orcs to respond, you use their dialect. As they would say, ‘Make fear! Good trick!’ ” he explained.

Alhandra giggled as she turned to Jozan and said, “I told you he would open up once he knew you. I’ll wager he gets this orc to help us find both Hassq and Calmet before he’s through.”

Why? Yddith asked herself the question again and again. She still served Pelor long and faithfully. She was managing to maintain her chastity in a profession where most considered selling their bodies to be just another means of improving their tip revenue. She had faithfully sung the “Psalm of the Sun” at every dawn from the time of her earliest memories. She courageously escaped Pergue when the Black Carnival appeared, and she did her best to save the lives of Pelor’s heroic priests on the night when the carnival unveiled its horrors.

So she couldn’t help but wonder why Pelor allowed the dark clouds of circumstance to overshadow his presence? Why had Pelor failed to shine on her when the zombie thespian placed the emerald necklace upon her and ripped apart her clothing to expose her body to any who dared look? Where was Pelor’s radiance when the silver dagger plunged toward her eye? Where was Pelor’s protection when the putrid flesh of the zombie fell on her frightened face? Why had the necklace Krusk shaped into a false eye been taken from her when she’d just learned to use it?

Looming over all those questions was the biggest why of all; why was she taken away from Krusk when he was the only person in the entire world who made her feel safe? Yddith couldn’t stop torturing herself with those questions. They piled one atop another until the lovely, one-eyed barmaid felt she would shriek with frustration and anxiety. She couldn’t be satisfied with the heresy that assumed every person who suffered somehow brought it upon herself through sin. She wasn’t perfect, but she knew that Pelor was the giver of grace and that she had received full forgiveness whenever she asked for it.

“Why,” Yddith suddenly found herself asking aloud, “why didn’t you just kill me and take the gem? For that matter, why are you keeping me alive, now?”

The druid shifted a log in the fire and gazed at the frightened woman through the smoke. Even tied to a tree with ropes woven by Hassq himself, the one-eyed human looked beautiful. Hassq knew there was something special about her, something more than that naked eye socket.