The Hammer of Fire (38 page)

“So why do we have to do it? Couldn’t we just
let this idiot go into the mountain and get himself killed? The
Great Fire Lord will never let a human slay him. What business is
it of ours to stop him?”

“High Priest Aaran says it’s our business,”
said the second man with a shrug of his shoulders as he took yet
another sip of the liquid inside his flask.

“Bah,” said the first man and spat on the
ground with a grimace. “Those priests are good for nothing except
living off the hard labor of others. What do they do except take
our bread and tell us to get down on our knees and beg forgiveness
so the Gods don’t kill us all?”

“They keep the Gods from killing us all,”
said the second man. “What would happen if we didn’t support the
priests and give our offerings?”

The first guard shrugged his shoulders and
spat again, “Who can say?”

“I can say,” replied the second man turning
towards his friend. “I can say and I can say it loudly for all to
hear. If the priests didn’t keep the Gods at bay the world would
turn to chaos. The demons and devils would walk the earth and
destroy us all. We’d have no moral or ethical foundation. We’d be
just animals, killing and rutting.”

“Do animals just kill and fuck?” said the
first man turning to face his companion.

“Of course they do,” said the second man.
“Just look at them,” he said and pointed to a group of ducks
sitting placidly on the dark pond.

The first man turned and looked at the quiet
animals, “I’m looking.”

“That’s not what I mean,” said the second
man. “I mean, they don’t kill each other all the time.”

“Nor do men,” said the first man.

“I’m making a point,” said the second man.
“If we don’t have morals we’re nothing more than animals.”

“Yeah,” said the first man. “But my question
is what’s so bad about animals? They’ve been getting along all
these years. They don’t spend half their day kneeling and praying
to live or praying to be good or hoping their kid doesn’t die. I
mean, they get along all right.”

“They’re animals,” said the second man.

“Yeah, I get that,” said the first man with a
shrug of his shoulders and a wry smile.

“Then why are you arguing with me,” said the
second man.

“Because you’re not answering any of my
questions,” said the first man.

“That’s because they’re stupid questions,”
said the second man. “Everyone knows people are different than
animals.”

“Orcs also?” asked the first man.

“They’re almost animals and that’s the point
isn’t it? Look at the way they live. Goblins too, just to satisfy
their carnal desires. They have no ethics, no morals, no
religion.”

“The goblins do too have religion. They’re
crazy religious to that god of theirs. That’s why they do all that
raiding to have sacrifices.”

“That’s not the point,” said the second man.
“Aren’t you listening?”

“I think I am,” said the first man scratching
his head. “Are you sure it’s not you who is not listening?”

“Don’t make this about me,” said the second
man and gave the first a short little shove. “Just because you
don’t have any ethics isn’t any reason to blame the priests. It’s
your free will to believe or not believe. No one makes you pay the
tithes.”

“They do make me pay the tithes. The soldiers
come by and if we don’t pay they take what they want,” said the
first man. “You’re talking utter nonsense.”

“You’re not listening,” said the second
man.

“Are you absolutely certain it’s me that’s
not listening?” said the first fellow.

“Yes, I’m sure. Pay attention,” said the
second and glared his companion. “Are you stupid?”

“I don’t think so,” said his companion and
scratched his head.

“And yet you’re of the opinion that we are
the same as animals?”

“I don’t actually recall saying that,” said
the first man.

“Will you two shut-up,” said a third voice
from around the fire. I’m trying to get pleasantly drunk before I
have to go home to my wife and six kids. Personally, I don’t mind
being out here in the dark waiting for some dwarf maniac warrior to
come and kill the Fire God. It’s safer than home!”

With that everyone around the fire laughed
heartily, slapping their knees and toasting one another, “Here’s to
marauding dwarves, may they often grace us with their presence!”
and such inanities. The men around the fire continued to entertain
each other as the hours of the night slowly went by, and they did
not notice as Petra slowly approached on the little mule she
borrowed from Dol just an hour ago. She managed to maneuver the
beast all the way up to the campfire before one of the men
noticed.

“Hey, you there!” shouted one of them and
tried to pull his short sword from its scabbard but only managed to
entangle it in between his legs so that he stumbled towards her.
“What are you doing here?”

Petra pulled up the little mule with a quick
yank of the reins and smiled down on the men, “I’m a witchy woman
from the north villages. I heard there was need for my concoctions
in these regions. Potions of courage, elixirs of strength, and the
such.”

The men around the campfire, at least the
ones not curled up and snoring on bedrolls, looked at each other
back and forth, and then the leader eventually shrugged his
shoulders and managed to pull out the sword, “Now that you mention
it we might be in need of a few such potions. There is a great
dwarf warrior come to slay the mighty God of Fire in the volcano
and we are tasked with stopping him!”

“You’ll need potions of strength at least,”
said Petra and dismounted. “How many of you are there? I can give
you a better price if we just mix them into the stew and you all
drink. If I have to sell you each a potion it will cost more.”

“I might need some courage,” said one thin
man with a little moustache and a shy smile. “I raise chickens
mostly.” He fingered a little dirk at his side, shrugged his
shoulders, and tilted his head to the side, “I can cut a chicken’s
throat but I’m afraid I’d piss myself if someone came at me with a
sword.”

“That’s all right, dearie,” said Petra and
came over to pat him on the shoulder. “You’re probably not the only
one here who isn’t a soldier and could use a brace of courage. I
make the finest potions for a hundred miles in all directions. One
sip of my courage elixir and you’ll be ready to take on an
army.”

The man smiled at Petra and scratched his
head, “Maybe I’d be best off running away instead of towards an
angry dwarf with an axe?”

“You might be right there,” said Petra with a
laugh, and the men around guffawed loudly enough to wake even the
drunkest passed out around the fire. “But, you’ve got a job to do
and if you run away then you’ll be found in the end. The priests
with their magic can tell if a man is lying or not.”

“It’s true,” murmured several voices from the
darkness. “They can make you talk. If we run away then the priests
will get it out of us in the end. Then when the baron gets back
with the soldiers he’ll put our heads on pikes.”

“He’s a right bastard is our baron,” said one
of the gruffest of the group. He wore a heavy leather jerkin, and a
long blade hung in a scabbard from his side. “We’ll fight and do
our best, don’t you worry Jocuso. Better to die standing up like a
man than captured and in chains. Maybe this dwarf won’t come at
all. What fool takes on a God?”

Petra looked up at the rough character and
nodded her head, “A big one,” she said.

“A big dwarf or a big fool,” said Jocuso in a
tremulous voice which elicited a burst of laughter from the men
around the campfire.

“Maybe both,” replied Petra. “Now, how many
are in for the potions; the more the better price I offer.”

“Do we need two potions? One for strength and
one for courage?” said a voice from the crowd.

“I can mix them together easily enough,” said
Petra with a broad grin and she began to unpack the various tools
of her trade from the mule. There were dozens of little flasks,
several small bundles of strange herbs that gave off intoxicating
odors, little bags of powdered substances, a mortar and pestle, and
a few other pieces of equipment of varying shapes and sizes. Petra
busied herself unpacking all the items and setting them into
precise positions on a felt mat as the men began to crowd around
her and gaze at her preparations.

“Who is paying for this?” said Petra as she
continued her work without abatement.

The gathered men immediately began to reach
into pockets and the sound of metallic coins clinking came through
the crisp air. Various discussions and bargains came and went from
the men as to who should pay more and who should pay less. Some
arguments as to the weight of the imbiber and the potential for
that person requiring an increased amount stalled the negotiations
for a while as Petra began to mix various ingredients in a large
bowl. Eventually the men sorted out their differences and the gruff
member of the group came over with a hand full of coins, mainly
silver but a few of copper and other base metals. He put them on
the felt to the side of Petra’s preparations, “There you go, witch.
That should be enough to take care of us all.”

Petra looked at the pathetic little pile of
coins and thought about the heavy gold in her own purse and the
gemstones that jangled next to them. She realized not more than a
couple of months ago this sort of sale would keep her in food and
supplies for months and shook her head, snorted, and smiled
broadly.

“Is it not enough?” questioned the man and
reached into his pocket.

“No, no,” said Petra shaking her head, “I’m
sorry. I was thinking about the last time I saw coins like this,”
she said and reached into the pile to pull at one of the pieces
that looked different than the rest. It showed a green jungle like
environment on one side and a topless woman carrying a spear on the
other.

“That’s from the jungle kingdoms,” said one
of the men peering over her shoulder as she examined the coin. “I
got it from a northern trader. They say there are jungles a
thousand miles long in the northlands. That spear woman is a
goddesses of their land I think but I don’t remember her name.” The
man, he wasn’t particularly tall but had a thick neck and a heavy
build to go along with thinning hair and a flat, pug nose. “Do you
think the dwarf will really try to kill the Great Fire God?”

Petra shrugged, “It’s possible, best to have
your courage up just in case, right?”

“Oh, I don’t mind that, I’m old now and my,
cough, cough, my lungs are filling up all the time. My father died
even younger than me. I’m going to die anyways. I just worry about
my children if the Fire God is dead. Who will drag the sun across
the sky, who will tease the seedlings out so they can grow?”

“Who teased the seedlings before the Fire God
resided in the volcano?” said Petra as she continued to mix her
ingredients carefully.

“Is that nightshade?” said a voice from the
back as Petra continued her work.

“Just a smidge,” said the woman dumping a
healthy clump into the mix. “For courage.”

“Isn’t nightshade poisonous?” questioned the
voice.

“Only in large doses,” said Petra and
immediately began to put a ground purple powder into the mix.
“Besides, it’s counteracted by this Passion flower. Nothing to
worry about.”

“I’ve never seen herbs like those,” said
another voice looming over her shoulder. “I’m a gardener and those
aren’t from around here.”

Petra suddenly looked up with her eyes huge
and half-bugged out. “Get away,” she screeched, “get away from the
witch or I’ll curse you all.”

The men immediately backed away and began
bickering among themselves, “See what you did?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“You can’t tell a witch how to brew a potion
any more than you can tell a blacksmith how to hammer a
horseshoe.”

“They’re crazy, those witches, one of them
cursed my sister-in-law, and she grew an extra arm out her
back.”

“That’s horse dung,” said another voice.
“People don’t grow extra arms out of their backs.”

“I’ve seen it,” said another voice. “My
missus is the midwife, you know, and sometimes them babies come out
all deformed with extra parts and missing parts. She has to dispose
of them, you know, but she always tells the mother that the cord
was around their neck and they died. I’ve seen some of things that
get borned, I have.”

“I didn’t say they couldn’t be born, you
idiot,” shouted another voice. “We’ve all got goats and chickens
that get borned with extra parts but I’m saying extra parts don’t
just grow afterwards!”

“Them little lizards can grow their tails
back,” said another voice.

“I ain’t talking about lizards, I’m talking
about people,” came the reply.

“But if they can grow back parts why can’t a
person, especially if they been cursed by a witchy woman,” said
another voice from the darkness.

“You ever see a person grown an extra arm out
of their back?” questioned yet another voice out of the
darkness.

“Just cause I ain’t seen it don’t mean it
didn’t happen.”

“What the hell did he just say?”

“I said that it could happen even if I never
seen it,” clarified the voice.

“Well, what kind of an argument is that? I’ve
never seen your wife ride a blue-jay to the top of tree. Does that
mean it’s possible?”

“His wife is too fat to ride a burro so that
ain’t a fair test,” said another voice and the men broke into
laughter.

“Hey,” said the insulted man. “I like a bit
to squeeze on, besides a fat wife means a good dinner on the table
when you get home.”

“He’s got a point there,” said another voice
and the men all laughed again.

“Would you just shut up,” muttered Petra
under her breath, but the men continued their conversation apace as
the night went slowly on. The moon was high in the sky now and tens
of thousands of stars shone brightly as the men slowly began to
wind down from the excitement of Petra’s arrival and subsequent
potion-making exercises.