Chapter 1

Chapter 8

CHAPTER 9: "Vile Vermin"

ARI

Ari could no longer ride along on Xena with Sir Oliver. She had her own horse now. This resulted in her almost losing complete control of her as-of-yet-unnamed steed. She had rode a horse once or twice whenever Raster wanted one brought from his stable to the work site, but that minimal exposure didn't properly prepare Ari for the impossible mechanics of horse-riding.

"Damn bitch," Ari grunted as the horse writhed and twisted its head around, trying to find her instruction. She kicked the beast furiously trying to rein it in.

"You need to tame that beast," Sir Oliver shouted back as Ari's horse began to drift off of the road.

"Damn," she cursed again. "This hard!"

"It is, but we're almost there," Sir Oliver said. "See the smoke?"

With that, Xena galloped swiftly ahead, doubling the speed of Ari's horse. Her and Sir Oliver were soon out of sight and Ari's horse was halted.

"You... You!" Ari yelled. "Please!"

The beast neighed and neighed, swaying its head disobediently for a few seconds. Ari stopped her kicking. The two stood still for a brief moment, calm.

Please, she begged again to no one in particular. When Ari felt like she had control again, she pulled the horse's head to the right, back towards the road, and the two of them trotted off towards the burned village in the distance. She could only pray that the dragon was gone. She was not ready, not yet.

When the village finally came into view, everything seemed black. People were screaming, crying, rummaging through what remained of their houses, which was not much. Ari pulled up on her horse's reins, struggling the creature to a halt. She hopped off and tried to find Sir Oliver, hoping his bright white armor might stick out in the toasted, black mess. There was no such luck.

Ari was nearly knocked over by a few men behind her toting a large, overflowing bucket of water. A little spilled over as it jostled. They were moving as fast as they could to a burning hut, throwing water on what was left of it.

"Oliver!" Ari yelled, but she could not see her knight anywhere. Even if he had responded, the chaos was so loud that she was not sure she would even be able to hear him. A woman approached Ari, begging her, "Help, please! My son! Please!"

She must think I am a knight because of the armor, Ari deduced. How wrong she is. Ari was starting to realize that she was being thrown too quickly into this. She followed the woman anyway to a house that no longer had a roof. In the soot-covered mess, Ari could hear a child crying. The woman begged again for Ari to aid her, "Please, I can't lift it."

The woman pointed to a pile of wooden beams that used to hold her ceiling up. Ari then saw a young boy coughing, trying to lift a beam from off of his chest. "Please, help me!" the woman begged.

"I..." Ari started. I can't lift it, she realized. She wanted to panic, but did not. Knights did not panic.

Ari ran over to the beam and started to lift. She pulled up with all of her strength, but the beam was too heavy for just her to lift. "Help me," she told the mother. The mother was crying, most likely afraid of her son's coughing, which worsened to a constant hack. He could be dying.

"You scared," Ari said calmly. "Please. Help. Save him."

Ari pulled up on the heavy piece of burnt wood again. This time, the mother grabbed another end and lifted with her. The two women exerted themselves as much as they could to lift the impossibly heavy beam. Ari knew she could not lift it. It was too heavy.

She looked beneath her to see the young boy suffocating, life fading from. She looked to her right to see the boy's mother still pulling up with all of her might, tears falling, fearing the end. Ari knew she had to lift it.

And so she did. She pulled up, pulled with the most force she had ever exerted. Perhaps maybe it was because Osha willed it, endowed her with the strength she needed, that she was able to pull the beam off of the boy.

"Garth!" screamed the mother. "Roll out! Out now!"

The boy, gasping for air, pushed his way out of the rubble. Ari and the mother dropped the heavy, toasted log and flecks of ash sifted up into the air around them.

Ari coughed on it a little and before she knew what was happening, the mother embraced her.

"Oh!" Ari choked. "I--"

"Thank you," the mother said. "Gods bless you, sir. Gods bless you."

"Aye," Ari said. She had not yet learned the phrase, "you're welcome." She put a hand on the mother's shoulder and said, "He need water, the boy, go."

The mother hugged her tightly one last time, then broke the embrace, nodded and helped her son to her feet. They shuffled out of the fallen house, as did Ari, eyes darting, still searching for her knight who was nowhere to be found. From behind her to her left, however, she heard a horse speeding towards her. She turned just in time to see it and jumped out of its way but the horse's leg bumped her sheathed sword, causing her to lose her balance. She fell harshly on her bottom.

The rider was vicious, that much she could tell.

"Raiders!" shouted a villager from behind Ari. "Orcs! Help! Stop them!"

Ari scrambled, looking for her horse to try and catch up with the thief. She saw her spotted steed in the crowd and ran to mount the beast quickly. She dug her foot into the stirrup and pulled up.

Her horse, however, still seemed not to agree with her on where to go. Ari kicked the beast, trying to get it moving, and the horse simply shook her off again. The orc was getting away.

"Stop!" Ari yelled, pulling herself out of the mud. "Stop!"

The rider was nearly long gone before a knife thudded in his back. The rider fell off the horse who kept galloping on. Ari turned quickly to try and see who threw the knife. There was a crowd of people behind her that stood in awe, staring at the fallen orc, except for one woman in a blue hijab who stared at Ari. She held her index finger up to her mouth to hush Ari, then drifted back into the crowd like water.

Did she throw it? Ari wondered.

"Jason!" yelled a familiar voice. Sir Oliver was marching up to meet her, hand on the hilt of his sword. He pointed to the rider in the mud. "Did you do this?"

"No," Ari answered.

"Orcs are known for raiding," Sir Oliver explained. "They must have saw an opportunity to plunder after the dragon came through."

"You see the dragon?" Ari asked.

"No," Sir Oliver said. "Only what it left be--"

Sir Oliver was pulled out of speech by a jagged blade aiming for his face, one that was countered by his wristguard. The blade's owner, was yet another orc, hissing and hacking. Sir Oliver manged to kick the creature back long enough to draw his own blade, a bright, silver longsword that shimmered even on this grey day.

Ari drew her sword as well, and held it out awkwardly.

The orc seemed to be rather unskilled with swordplay. He lunged at Sir Oliver a few times, Sir Oliver hardly mobile as he deflected each blow. Sir Oliver looked mildly amused. One hard swing through the air was enough to give Sir Oliver a window of opportunity to kick the sword out of the orc's hand.

The orc fell to his knees, hands raised.

"Truly?" Sir Oliver. "I wanted a good fight."

"Please," the orc begged. "Please don't kill me. I will return all that I stole."

Ari had never seen an orc before. This one had grey skin, a beak of a nose and long, mousy hair. They had a reputation for being vile, rodent-like vermin with no regard for other life. He was not pretty, and he did try to steal from people who had not much to steal, but this was a creature on his knees, begging for his life.

He seemed... human.

"Please, sir," the orc begged. "I have nothing. I come from nothing. This is how we survive."

Sir Oliver held the sword out, pointing towards the orc's throat. "This is how you die," he responded.

"Please, good Sir, please!" the orc pled. "Maybe I can help you! I am a skilled hunter, trapper. Do you like squirrels? I like squirrels. Rather tasty on the fire, they are. That armor-- you're a knight of Cambria!"

"Indeed," Sir Oliver said. "Here to slay the dragon that set this village ablaze. And when raiders attack an innocent village, it is my duty to slay them as well."

The orc's ears perked up and he smiled. He was a negotiator, Ari could tell. "Ah," he told Sir Oliver, "what an opportunity! I know where the beast lives. I've been there, to its lair. I can take you!"

Sir Oliver scowled. "Why would I trust a raider?"

"I can show you!" the orc promised.

"Anything else before I kill you?" Sir Oliver asked, pulling his sword back.

"Sir!" the orc begged. "I am telling the truth! I swear it on the Gods!"

"I do not worship the Gods," Sir Oliver said, preparing to strike the neck.

"Wait!" Ari yelled. "He say he know where the dragon live."

Sir Oliver had not yet swung the sword, but he stared angrily at the raider. "Orcs lie, Jason," he said. "They lie, cheat and steal. This creature will not be missed."

"I stole," Ari responded. "I stole. I am here now. He take us to the dragon."

Sir Oliver looked at her now, disapprovingly. The crowd around them stared too. Ari had not meant to embarrass her mentor, but felt that she might have.

Sir Oliver lowered his sword. He held out his free hand to the orc to help him rise from the mud. "You will take us to the dragon's lair," Sir Oliver said.

"Thank you, good Sir," the orc said in relief. "Thank you! I will not disappoint you!"

"And if you are lying to me," Sir Oliver said, leaning in, "if you dare try to entrap us or harm us, I swear by my god that I will end your miserable life. Am I understood?"

"Aye!" exclaimed the orc. "I will not let you down, good Sir! I swear it by the-- by whichever god you would like!"

Sir Oliver rolled his eyes. He walked towards Ari and growled under his breath, "If danger should befall us, it will be on you."

He said nothing else, but went to find Xena.

"Good man, you are!" the orc said to Ari, shaking her hand feverishly.

"Aye," Ari said solemnly.