“Stone, what’s going on?” Aithrod jumped up, holding out the tip of his dagger. “Back! Back, I say,” he spoke to the small beings who were closing in on them.
“They’re armed. Sort of,” said Stone, noticing that each of them held on to what looked like a rake, a hoe, or a shovel. Some even held sharp pick axes and pitchforks. Now he knew what they’d pricked him with, and he didn’t like it in the least.
The small ones spoke in grunts to each other, and their communication was very fast. It sounded like gibberish to him. Stone tried hard but couldn’t make out actual words. Then they started moving forward with their weapons drawn, closing in on both the men and the dog.
“I get a bad feeling about this.” Aithrod waved his dagger back and forth.
“I don’t think they’ll really harm us,” said Stone. “After all, they’re so small. I mean how could they be an actual threat to someone our size? Hello there,” said Stone, bending over and reaching out for a shake. “Ow!” he shouted when one of the creatures brought the sharp end of his hoe down across the back of his hand, actually drawing blood. Half a dozen of them jumped onto Stone’s back next. He whirled around in circles throwing them off with the force.
The little peoples’ grunting became louder and louder. Then even more of them appeared, filling the cave area completely. He had never seen anything like it in his life.
“Got any ideas how to escape them?” asked Aithrod as their situation worsened.
“Not a one,” Stone answered with a shake of his head. “I’m afraid this is beyond my bounty hunting abilities. And for the life of me, I don’t know what the hell they are, or for that matter where we are.” He gripped his staff tightly as he and Aithrod continued to back away. “Get ready to fight,” said Stone, not wanting to hurt these creatures, but not knowing what they were capable of doing. “I suddenly get the feeling that mayhap we shouldn’t have stepped through the portal after all.”
“May I please see your gazing sphere, Persimmon?” Medea, the other woman who was a witch, held out her hand as everyone sat around the outdoor fire chatting. The meal had been a fine one consisting of strange meats, vegetables and fruits that Persimmon had never had before. One of the best things she’d tasted was called Roakan. She was told that the deer-like animal had been hunted in the elven lands of Glint. It was all delicious to her. And what made the meal even better was that everyone was so friendly. Thankfully, she had been accepted by these people here on Mura. Everyone, that is, but her father.
Elric had gone out of his way to purposely avoid her and to not even speak to her since she’d gotten here. Persimmon didn’t understand his actions. It really upset her. After all, she was his daughter, just as Lira was. So why did he treat the elven queen much better than he did her? It was getting dark now as the sun set on the horizon. She was told that the children of the Blackseed brothers would need to be put to bed for the night soon.
“I’m sorry, Medea, but I don’t let anyone touch my gazing sphere.” Persimmon was protective over the orb for more reasons than one. “My mother always told me not to let others’ touch our tools. I guess it is because of the risk of their energy entering the object.”
“Is that a bad thing?” asked Medea.
“Yes. No,” she corrected herself not wanting to offend Medea. “I mean, I think it could be a distraction if nothing else, I suppose. Anyway, the orb only responds to my touch.” The last thing Persimmon wanted to do was to show Medea how it worked, because, she honestly didn’t know. She’d let them believe she saw visions in it, but that was the furthest thing from the truth. She was extremely tired of not having the ability to scry. It was draining and made her feel like a failure. After all, if her mother had been a prophetess, she should be able to do it, too.
Persimmon had yet to see anything at all in the orb. Still, things just had to change soon Her mother had used this same orb to scry, and had so much success, people sought her out from near and far to scry for them.
“Oh, I see.” Medea looked extremely disappointed by her response, even though she was too polite to say so.
Persimmon felt bad now. The witch girl had been excited about seeing the orb. She also seemed to want to be Persimmon’s friend. That would be nice. Persimmon never had any true friends. Since they were both witches, that should create a bond.
“I’ll tell you what,” said Persimmon. “I will let you look at the orb if you’d like. Without touching it, of course.” She brought the orb out of her pouch, setting it in front of Medea atop the table.
“Thank you. Oh, my. It’s splendid.” Medea’s eyes lit up in excitement. “Now show me how you make it work. Please,” she begged. “I promise I won’t touch it. I’ll just watch as you scry.”
“I…I can’t do that,” said Persimmon with her hand still on the orb. She was put in an awkward situation and wasn’t sure how to handle it. She couldn’t let on that she didn’t have the magical skills to actually use the orb.
“Oh, is that forbidden, too? Letting anyone watch you scry?” asked Medea with a sigh. “This is much different from my witchcraft. I can see that now.”
“Nay, that’s not it at all. I mean, I don’t think it is forbidden.” Persimmon didn’t know what to say. Still, she needed to say something. If not, she was sure that Medea wouldn’t stop until she was satisfied by getting an answer. “I can’t explain how to use it because I don’t understand exactly how it works. It just does.” Persimmon’s gaze flashed over to her father sitting at the other end of the table. Elric scowled at her. Then he got off the stump and in a flash he disappeared. “Why doesn’t he like me?” she said aloud.
“Who?” Medea turned around to look, but the elf was already gone.
“Elric. My father,” said Persimmon. “He acts as if I’m poison. He doesn’t want to be near me or even talk with me at all. I don’t understand what I ever did to make him act that way.”
“Oh, that.” Medea laughed. “Don’t take it personally, Persimmon. Elric is quite odd if you haven’t noticed. None of us can quite figure him out so we’ve stopped trying.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“His own daughter, your sister, Lira, banished him from her castle in Glint years ago. That’s why he’s lived by himself up at the top of a cliff, so I’m told. He is extremely eccentric and not the best at being sociable.”
“She banished him from the castle? That is odd. You’re right.” Persimmon released a deep breath and forced a smile. “There are so many things I need to learn about this land. I also have so much I want to ask my father. Through the years as I was growing up, I never had the chance.”
“Why not?” asked Medea. “Was it because he was here in Mura instead of by you in Lornoon?”
“Well, that is part of the reason.”
“I’m so sorry, sister.” Lira overheard them, hurrying over and sitting down on the bench next to Persimmon, putting her hand over hers. “My father isn’t the easiest person to get along with. Just ask my husband, Zann, and his brothers if you don’t believe me.”
“Lira is right,” agreed Medea. “Elric hasn’t always been kind to them, but our husbands have learned to tolerate the little man. Even when he continues to constantly call them big oafs.”
“But Zann married you,” said Persimmon, not quite understanding. “He knew Elric would be his father by marriage and yet he still went through with the wedding?”
Lira giggled. “It wasn’t really his choice.”
“What do you mean?”
“We were tricked into getting married. By my father. Our father,” Lira explained.
“Tricked into marriage? Why? I don’t understand. Do you mean you didn’t want to marry Zann?”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Lira said, holding up her hand. “Zann and I fell in love eventually and now we couldn’t be happier together. So, you see, it all worked out in the end.”
“I don’t really see, but I suppose I shouldn’t try to understand,” answered Persimmon, starting to know what they meant about ignoring Elric’s odd actions. Mayhap she was getting much too upset by something that she couldn’t control.
“Sweetheart, I think our little princess needs you,” Zann called out, rocking their one-year-old baby, Leandra, who wouldn’t stop crying.
