It had been a hard day's work, but everything was ready for tomorrow. The cart was filled to the brim with baskets and crates. 34 baskets alone for Master Fremdon alone took up the majority of the space, 12 pounds each, but also a wide selection of other vegetables and herbs to sell
Deedra had been exhausted, as her father carried her on his shoulders back to the house, after finishing up, Zul’Tekt low on the sky, but still beaming down light and warmth.
Her mother had drawn her a warm bath, which she went into with delight, enjoying the soothing warm water. Deedra wanted to spend more time in the bath, but she was tired and crawled out of the warm water and into the soft embrace of her mother, who was holding a blanket ready for her.
After quickly drying off and putting on her nightgown, she went over to her father sitting at the hearth and he lifted her up onto his lap, where she leaned into his chest and looked at the fire with him.
“Pappi? Will you tell me the story of the evil witch and the kind soldier that saved her?” she asked, ending with a yawn.
“That old story?” he said, chuckling “I must have told you that one at least a hundred times by now. I know you know it by heart.”
“But it is much better when you tell it” she protested softly, yawning once again.
Giving her a soft kiss on the top of her still wet hair, he started the tale. “Long ago, in a land far away, there lived an evil witch. She ruled a cursed land that none dared venture into, called The Winter Marshes. Many a king had sent vast armies to her door to vanquish her, but none could, all of them fell to her unparalleled magic.
So strong was she, that she could even command the dead, raising them to become her own army, striking down the kingdoms that dared to challenge her.”
“I think I will retire to the bed,” Deedra’s mother said, putting a log of wood on the fire, then kissing her cheek. “Sleep well, my little blessing.” she said, as she left them and closed the door behind her.
“Please, pappi, tell me more.” Deedra said, eyes closed, sleep slowly taking hold of her.
“For a century, or more” her father continued, voice deep and softly rumbling “she lived in these cursed marshes, alone and isolated, feared by all.
But one day, a soldier, a single man, got lost from his group that was escorting a diplomat from one kingdom to another. They were attacked by bandits, one of which used magic to kill many in a single attack. He had been left for dead, but fate had plans for him still. Not knowing the lands he was passing through, he started to walk and soon had crossed into witches marsh.
Night fell upon him soon enough and he lit a fire to both keep warm, heat some food and to keep all the predators at bay that were regarding him with interest.
As he sat there, he sang some songs about lost love, mended hearts and growing old together.
What the young soldier did not know was that the witch could see his small fire from her keep. Curious, she spied on him, using her magic. Seeing the single soldier, she was about to strike out and kill him, but his songs made her stay her hand, tugging on her heartstrings that she did not know she had.
Instead, she moved herself closer to the lone soldier, using her magic. And for a short while, she stood there, hidden in the shadows, listening to his deep voice, singing many songs.
Then, something that had not happened in a long time, a single tear fell from her cheek. She wanted to talk to this either very brave or very dumb soldier.
‘May I join you at your fire, man at arms?’ she asked, her voice soft and gentle, as she stepped into the light.
Now, the soldier had been so entrenched in his own mind, that the sudden appearance of her made him jump and fall backwards of the log he was sitting on, legs now pointing toward the sky and arms flailing to find a hold.
Such a silly sight to her, it made her laugh for the first time in decades.
After finding stable footing and getting himself up, he looked at the young woman standing there, beautiful and delicate, with long black hair and eyes that shone like precious stones, reflecting the world around them.
He then cleared his throat and said ‘Young miss, I must insist that you stay at the fire tonight! It is not safe to travel alone here, when it is dark’.
She smiled at him and found a seat on a log, close to the fire, as he too sat back down. He shared what little food he had with her and they talked. All night long.
His eyes were filled with compassion and warmth, making her heart long to be forever close to them. She could not detect any deceit or malice from him, nor any kind of bewitching magic. He was just a man, not knowing who he was talking to.
He in turn, had been struck deeply in his heart. He knew from the moment he saw her, that here was a woman, that he would lay down his life to protect. Yes, she felt cold, but it was the kind of coldness that arises when you have been abused, hurt deeply and had become an outcast from everywhere.
He would not, nay, could not treat her like that! He would show her compassion and love.”
Wrenrik paused to see if Deedra had fallen asleep, her breathing slow and steady. He was just about to slowly lift her up to place her in her bed, but the movement made her stir.
“Then what happened pappi?” she said, clearly not fully awake.
Letting out a sigh, smiling and kissing her on the top of her nearly dry hair, he continued.
“As morning broke over the marsh, the marsh seemed different, not as dark as it was the day before. The witch told him of a route to get safely across and to meet with her at a very old tree, two days from that day. She would leave the marsh, that had been her home and domain for nearly two centuries, to come with him and become better.
He followed the path she had given him, making it safely to a very large tree that marked the end of her domain. And true to her word, she came just as Zul’Tekt was setting, carrying only a few things. Among them, her tome, containing all of her knowledge, the things she had learned and made.
She feared for it to fall in the wrong hands, but bound in the skin from a Greater Deamagok and warded with powerful magic, not even she could destroy it. She would keep it hidden and locked away from those not of her blood.
That evening, they set off together, to make a new life together, away from their past lives.”
Deedra had fully fallen asleep in her fathers arms. He gently got up and placed her in her bed, kissed her cheek and hoped the Gods would bless her each and every day.
Wrenrik tossed a few logs on the fire in the hearth, before he made his way into the bedroom, where his beloved wife was waiting for him. He found her sitting up in the bed, writing in her journal by the dim light of the oil lamp.
He stood there a bit, just taking in the sight of her, as she sat there, deep in thought, writing. He knew it helped her with her nightmares, a repentance for her past life, before him and Deedra.
He took off his clothes, laid it on the chest at the foot of the bed and got under the covers with her, giving her a soft kiss on her shoulder, his beard tickling her and making her turn her head to face him, giving him a loving kiss on the top of his head in return.
They looked deeply into each other's eyes for a few moments, love overflowing from them to one another.
She then looked away with a solemn expression on her face.
“Wren, I have been thinking…” she started, before biting her lip, seizing up. “What is it, my delicate winter blossom?” he asked, gently turning her head to face him with a strong hand on her cheek. “She is turning 12 the day after tomorrow and I think she needs to know of her heritage. I can feel her essence is strong and growing stronger by the day. I think it might manifest unwillingly if she is not taught to control it…” she trailed off, tears starting to form in her eyes. “Hey, listen now,” he said to her, as he softly pushed away her journal and drew her in to hold her tight, “you made a pact, but that does not mean you cannot teach her yourself, as long as you are very careful. I trust you and know you can do it safely, for the both of you.”
She sobbed softly into his bare chest, hugging him as hard as she could.
MOAR!