“I think it’s best if I do all the talking,” My-re said to Vomarian Fae, captain of the Unsinkable II and the arch-mage Havelock who stood flanking her. It had snowed during the night and her breath was visible as it carried on the morning air.
Havelock breathed in deeply, “Young lady, I’ll have you know I’ve spoken to kings and queens, royalty, and common folk alike. I’ve stood before some of the most powerful being in all of Alastari. My debating skills are second to-”
“Do you speak Rathiri?” My-re interrupted. She then continued, “Also, before I forget, anyone speaking the Alastarian dialect in the Rirorni Empire risks the lash.”
Havelock closed his open mouth, paused, and mimicked, “I think it’s best if you do all the talking.”
A horse’s whinny in the distance carried on the cold wind. Dawn had broken and the red and orange glow of the day stretched across the heavens. The sleek swordsman tri-master sailing ship with a triangular and curved bow rested in a small gorge. The Shagornan elven crew began to lower and tie up the three tiered series of seashell-like sails.
When they crested the hill, she smelled and heard the sounds of cattle and saw a home and barn. A Rirorni woman in her fifties dressed in thick cotton brown garb lined with fur and wearing a headdress was tending the pigs, while a little girl, about eight, in a bright red outfit, black legging, and fur boots chased chickens.
My-re gave her ringmail armor a once over and checked the helm that covered her head and face. The little girl saw them approach and froze in fear. My-re put her battle axe up behind her. A Rirroni greeting indicating they were not a threat and unarmed.
“Naloona!” The little girl called to the women’s back. “Alastarian raiders!”
“Don’t be silly Belalith, there haven’t been any Alastarians here in over…” her voice trailed off when she turned and saw My-re, Vomarian Fae, and Havelock.
My-re removed her helm revealing her face and short, dark hair.
“Naloona?” My-re asked. “Is that really you?”
Naloona took a step back. Her voice was shaking. “My-re?” Her face scrunched and tears welling. She called out, “Malla! Arenna! Come quickly!”
Two women emerged. One was in her forties in similar thick cotton brown garb lined in fur. The other was in her early thirties who wore an off-white thick cotton dress, black leggings, and high fur boots. A sheathed broadsword was at her side. She also had a warm, motherly face with long, silky, black hair.
“What is it now? Is Belalith tormenting the chickens again?”
It took a moment for the two new women to see My-re and her companions. Their eyes grew wide.
“My-re, it can’t be?” Arenna examined and her eyes squinted. “How are you alive? You were sentenced to the Blood Games tournament? Is that truly you?”
My-re nodded in rapid succession.
Arenna, My-re’s Rirorni foster mother placed a shaking had over her chest and stepped back.
Malla’s mouth dropped open in disbelief, and then she clasped her hands over it and began to pour longing tears in an instant.
They all ran encircling My-re and each cried out years of pain and joy reserved for loved ones reunited in the afterlife. Even Arenna, the toughest woman My-re knew had tears streak down her face. It was as if her soul had finally given her permission to end her grief over losing a child. My-re was now in the loving arms of her former family and she wouldn’t allow anything in the world to harm them. My-re was home.
“What are they saying? I don’t understand Rathiri,” Vomarian Fae asked. “Is this a good thing?”
“Yes, I think this is a good thing,” Havelock replied clasping the Shagornan elf on the back.
“Come in, come in,” Arenna said in Rathiri. “Before anyone sees you.” She then saw Vomarian and Havelock standing there a short distance away. She motioned for them to follow.
Shifting back and forth between the Rirorni native language of Rathiri and the Alastarian dialect, My-re said, “This is a safe place. Come in.”
The three followed the four Rirorni into the house. Malla a woman in her mid-forties, looked around outside as they entered before closing the door. The little girl Belalith hid behind her mother’s legs.
“Belalith, this is your sister, My-re. Don’t you remember?” Arenna asked trying to scoot the eight year old in front of her.
“She died?” Belalith questioned. “Is she a ghost?”
“No, don’t be silly.”
Bending to her knees to the child’s level, My-re reached out a hand. “It’s me Belalith. Don’t you remember swinging together on the old tree, swimming in the creek on hot summer days, and all the broadsword training lessons with mother every morning?”
Belalith edged closer.
“Here. Remember when you hit me on the side of the head with mother’s broadsword?” My-re inquired. She pulled aside her dark hair revealing a long scar covered by her hair.
“That explains a few things,” Vomarian muttered under his breath.
“Shut it,” My-re said in a calm even tone, and then switched back to Rathiri. “Remember, there was so much blood that you thought you killed me and bawled the rest of the day. You felt worse than I did. Remember when I was being stitched up and cried in pain, you brought me your doll for comfort.”
Belalith studied My-re’s face and lightly touched the scar on the side of her head.
“It’s me, sissy.”
Belalith lunged into My-re’s frame and the two lost sisters were reunited again.
Hugging her younger sister for a moment she rose. Arenna then smacked My-re on the back of the head.
“Ow!”
“By the Khan’s blade, what are you doing back here!?” Arenna demanded. “Returning to the Empire was foolish. And what are you doing with this elf and this…old man? Are you his property? Did he touch you?” She then gripped the hilt of her broadsword tightly.
Vomarian and Havelock didn’t need to speak Rathiri to know things were about to turn ugly. They backed away and held up their hands in supplication.
My-re stepped in between them. “No, they brought me here. They’re my friends and honorable men.”
Naloona emerged from the kitchen with a food try with cups and a brew pot with steam rising. She noticed the tension in the air. Slowly putting the tray down, she poured the drinks. The smell of strongly spiced tea waffled through the room. She motioned to the bread, cheese, honey dates, and nuts.
“It’s fine. She’s not going to hurt you. Tea’s been served,” My-re scoffed to Vomarian and Havelock. “Spilling blood now would be considered rude and impolite.”
The two men hesitantly nodded in thanks and each took a cup.
“Ah, Rirorni spiced tea,” My-re said after taking a sip. “I almost forgot how flavorful it tasted. Not weak like Alastarian tea.”
“I’m not surprised. The Alastarians always lacked culture. When they weren’t drunk on spirits, fornicating like rabbits in heat, they’re stuffing their faces, while the rest of the world’s bellies went unfulfilled. May Mytori curse them,” Arenna spat.
“Present company excluded,” My-re responded.
“Of course.”
“What are you saying?” Vomarian Fae asked.
“The tea’s good,” My-re quickly translated.
Havelock commented, “I thought I heard the name Mytori.”
“Why are you traveling with this lot?” Arenna asked gesturing to the two.
“We’re on a mission. Lady Shelia Greywand sent us-”
“The Witch of the Northern Waste!?” Arenna exclaimed interrupting, “She can’t be trusted.”
“Mother, we need your help.”
“No, I will not be part of that sorceress’s schemes. You would do well to abandon this folly. She has a duplicitous and reckless nature for others. Her lies, half-truths, and plans within plans make a spider web appear simple.”
“Mother please. I implore you.”
“What are you saying?” Vomarian Fae asked.
“I said the tea’s good!” My-re snapped in the Alastarian dialect.
“I thought I heard Lady Shelia Greywand’s name being mentioned,” Havelock commented.
Arenna stood forcefully. “I said no My-re.”
There was a pause for several heartbeats.
“Mother, we’re traveling on behest of parents. Their child is missing. We’re searching for her. We believe she’s within the Empire.”
The room grew quiet, except for Havelock who was eating a cheese sandwich and slurping his tea. “I agree the tea is good,” he commented.
Sighing, Arenna sat back down and said, “The Empire is vast. Finding a Rirorni girl is going to be difficult. Near impossible. Like trying to find a needle within a stack of needles.”
“She’s not Rirorni.”
“Alastarian?”
“Now that you asked it, I’m unsure,” My-re replied. “Her name is Araminth.”
Arenna’s eyes went wide at hearing the name.
“Wait, you know the name?”
“Yes. That one stuck out. Tawny red hair, small build, slender, and a little rangy. Breeding hips of a boy. Didn’t weigh much. A strong wind could’ve blown her over. Fair skin and freckles across her nose,” Arenna described. “She spoke Rathiri fairly well.”
“The nine hells! That sounds like her!” My-re exclaimed.
“What are you saying,” Vomarian Fae asked.
“They know her. They know of Araminth,” My-re translated excitedly.
“Daughter, my heart is lightened and filled with joy knowing you are alive, but you are not safe within the Empire. You risked and traveled all this way for naught.”
“What? You just made things so much easier.”
“You don’t understand. Araminth is dead.”