Satin's Tale: Dealings Done

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A Double-edged Strike

Satin felt his teeth part in a harsh cry that forced its way out despite his best efforts.  Pain burned down his back from shoulder to hip as he threw himself forward out of the way, not fast enough.  He rolled, gritting his teeth through the agony of the open cut and stayed low, sweeping one leg around hard enough to knock one of the creatures off its feet as he turned.  More were closing in around him; the two he'd been fighting, the one that had caught him behind, and now, from the corner of his eye, another turning its attention to him.  Too many.  Somewhere in the din of guttural shouts and striking metal he heard Marley's voice, calling the order.  That was James responding.  That, Whistler's ear-piercing signal.  They were all fighting hard too, no time to be giving up.  He spun his knives, a grim snarl on his lips.

The orc that had sliced him rushed forward and Satin dashed back towards it, rising from his crouch only as they closed.  He was inside the creature's surprised swing and his knife bit deep, if not the heart then a lung at least.  His other hand darted out at the same time, three fingers coming off the hilt of his knife to grab the orc's wrist and pull it with him as he passed the creature by.  With a heave he swung its overbalanced momentum, throwing the dying orc into one of his allies and pulling the cruelly barbed sword from its grip as he did.  Turning back he hurled it in the other direction, towards the newest of his assailants.  It was a quick throw and his aim was low, for the gut rather than something more certain, but it was enough to make the brute stagger back, hands groping for the sudden injury.

His eyes flicked back and he twisted away, but again not fast enough to avoid the jolt of pain that sliced through the soft flesh just above his hip.  A moment later and it would have been a piercing stab.  Satin fought down another cry, finishing the turn instead to face his next opponent.  The orc was drawing back the blade that had cut him, its other arm raised to make a strike with a second and Satin leapt back out of the way.  The second strike barely missed him, the tip of the blade slicing the ties on his shirt and dragging a tear in the fabric down to his midriff.  He could see the orcs he had thrown down struggling to pick themselves up and rejoin the fight, snarling and cursing.  No room for half measures.  His injuries were a constant scream in the back of his mind and he shoved them away, dashing in close again.

The orc hadn't slowed down from its frenzy but Satin twisted his body around one swing and ducked low under the next, slipping around behind the creature to bring the blade of his knife across its throat as their bodies pressed together for the moment it took.  He shoved the body away as black blood sprayed and moved towards the one that had managed to pull the sword from its gut.  It raised it now, its own weapon forgotten and one hand covering the injury as Satin moved towards it.  He slid to his knees as they met, slamming both of his knives into the creature's middle above and below the first wound and wrenched apart with all his strength.  The orc gave a strangled shriek as its innards spilled out and Satin rolled to the side, coming to his feet and kicking the corpse down. 

They were near the small town's centre now, and Satin could hear his own voice shouting angrily at the pain from his wounds.  Of the two near him still, one had picked itself up and was scrambling for a weapon while the other had only managed to get to its knees, blood spilling from the open chest wound and running over hands that made futile attempts to stop it.  Teeth bared, Satin turned to race back towards the two, leaping as he passed the well to get one foot on the lip and spring forward.  His kick drove the standing orc back to the ground and Satin felt the bones of its chest crunch beneath the force of their impact.  He landed in a crouch, just at the right height for his knife to flash out, opening the neck of the second.

He stood, jumping clear of the two bodies and spun his knives on instinct, looking about.  Black blood covered his hands and he could feel it on his face and chest as well.  A pain at his front told him that the strike that tore his shirt hadn't missed him after all.  There was a moment of quiet as he panted, his breathing heavy, and it stretched.  The last vestiges of fighting slowed to a halt as the remaining orcs died and stillness of a sort returned.

Not everyone was standing, he could see.  There were the scared faces of the people who lived here, some with weapons in hand, others now beginning to peer out of houses fearfully.  Closer, Marley was leaning against a building, breathing hard with Whistler beside him.  James was there, helping Speedy to her feet.  She was bleeding badly from a wound in her side, and sat down again right away.  Whistler went over to her quickly.  Satin's eyes fell on another form he recognised, Violet.  He looked away again.  She would not be coming back with them.  Many of the village folk, those who had been fighting, were hurt as well and many dead besides.  Satin was still holding his knives over-tight grips and catching his breath as Marley approached him, a little more recovered.  He seemed wary, and stood back, eyeing him side-on.

“You alright, Satin?”  The wariness was in his voice too, underneath the exhaustion.  Satin took a deep breath and forced his body to relax its tension.  He turned his knives over in his hands and looked to Marley.  He could feel that his own features were hard and dark, but it hardly seemed appropriate for anything else.  He took another deep breath then nodded before bending to clean the blades of his knives and sheathing them.  Marley seemed to relax as well.

“Good.  There's a lot of wounded.  You up to helping Whistler, and whoever else this place has of their own for treating hurts?”

“Yeah.  How many did we lose?”  Satin looked over the area again as he asked.  There were more dead villagers than members of the band, but too many of both.  Marley's answer was quiet and sober.

“Not sure yet, people are still sorting themselves out.  Violet's down, Tom, Grass, two of the new boys.  Some or the others may not make it through.”

“Then I've got work to do, haven't I?”  With a small shake of his head, Satin walked past Marley, moving over to where Whistler was doing some quick emergency work on Speedy.  She glanced at him for a moment, but kept working.

“Where can I help?”

It had just been good luck, or ill possibly.  They had been planning a raid on the settlement, but when they'd rode out, Speedy had ridden back faster than her name to report that they were already under attack, by orcs.  There had been a moment of uncertainty and the others had watched as he and Marley had stared at one another for long seconds before the old man had nodded to him.  They had struck hard, taking the orc party unexpectedly from behind, but there had been a lot of them.  More than any of them had expected.

Satin sewed carefully, closing a long gash across his patient's chest.  It was a man from the village, probably their metal-worker judging from his size.  They'd all done what they could for the most serious, and the night was already fading towards dawn while they worked on the less critical injuries.  In the aftermath, those who weren't hurt had met them with caution and fear, despite the rescue.  He didn't blame them, though.  Some had come forward with gratitude, once they began helping the injured, and he and Whistler had worked with the small group of women from the village who knew anything about treating injuries.  Two more villagers had died in the night, unable to be saved.  One from the band as well, Flicker. 

As he finished the smith nodded to him and left the long mead hall where they were working.  Satin sat back on his heels in the quiet few moments, thinking.  Just-a-flicker, it had started as, a year ago.  He'd joined them as one sprung from stocks during a raid, saying he was one more mistake from exile anyway.  He'd been a gambler, and any time the question of slim odds or small hope had come up, he's grin at the speaker with a smirk that showed his teeth and a sparkle in one eye, and answer that there never was much chance, just a flicker.  It had stuck soon enough, as names did in the band, and Satin had learned a lot of gambler's tricks from him.  But tonight his light hadn't shone for him.  He shook his head then stood, stretching.

“You've not eaten or drank anything since you arrived.  None of you have...  and now you're helping us.  I don't understand.”  The voice was quiet, not much above a timid whisper and quite young.  Satin looked towards the doorway.  It was a young woman, no older than he was, and probably younger, wearing in a plain green dress that looked like it had been thrown on and tied in a hurry.  She was carrying a tankard and a short platter of hard bread.  He wondered whether she had been told to bring it to him, or was doing so on her own.  Whistler was working at the other end of the hall, and further on, Marley was talking quietly to the towns apparent leader.  The sounds of muffled pain still filled the hall, but his ears had mostly shut it out by now.  Instead he looked to the girl. 

“Life is rarely fair, and the world doesn't give you any breaks most of the time.  Way I see it, no mater how you live, if you can help, you should.”  He looked to the end of the hall and nodded in Marley's direction.  “Old man over there likes to say that the world doesn't care if you're ready or not.  It's true enough, but I don't see any reason to add to it if I can help it.”  Satin moved on to the person lying on the next mat, his leg cut open badly, though it had been temporarily staunched while more serious wounds were tended.  The girl followed him, her brow drawn down more sternly now.

“You say that, but you were going to steal from us.  Your lot, you were planning to raid us and take everything we had.”

“Not everything, just what you could spare, provided you didn't put up a fight, but yes, we were.”

“And... and now... you fought to save us, and you're helping heal out injured.  Some of you died saving us!”  Her voice pleaded for an answer but Satin just nodded as he worked.  The man under his care flinched and hissed through his teeth, but otherwise kept quiet.

“Yes, we are.”  He didn't glance at her as he answered, focused on his work, and she set the mug and bread down beside him, clearly more frustrated than ever now.

“But... I don't...  I'm grateful, but, that doesn't make any sense!”  It was a strange sensation, but he felt his lips quirk into the smallest semblance of a smile.

“It does, but I think you need to see the world for what it's really like, to understand.  Thank you for the drink, and the bread.”  She nodded to him, but lingered longer in silence, shifting from one foot to the other while he worked on.  Satin was nearly finished with his patient before she spoke again.

“I saw you fighting out there.  It was...”  He heard her hesitate and glanced up for a moment to see her biting her lip.  Looking down as she was, her hair had fallen forward over much of her face.  It was a pale brown, edging towards blond, and had the signs of waves and kinks in it, as though it was usually braided instead of free and dishevelled as it was now.  She averted her eyes from his, pushing the obscuring hair back off her face.  “It was brutal.  I know they were orcs, but... do you do that to people too?”

“I would rather not.”

“I wanted to cover my eyes.  The violence and all, out there.  It was hard to even see, how do you... well... do it?  How does...  you look my age.  How do you do that... and then turn around and do this?”  As she spoke, Satin nodded to the man on the mat who thanked him before glancing to the girl.

“Leave the man be, Marren.  You'll not make any more sense of it than the rest of us”

“Oh, so he's a man but I'm a girl?”

“Anyone does as he's done this night, and they're a man in my book, and then some.”  Satin took the opportunity to slip past them as the girl made several more exchanges with the man, moving down the row again to the next person waiting treatment, but the she followed him a few moments later.  He looked up at her before beginning.

“Because I have no other choice, that's all.”  This man's arm had been bound to his chest since the fighting and Satin began to examine it now, carefully undoing the rough wrap and running his fingertips over it.  “Broken in two places, but not a joint, so you're lucky.  I don't know setting bones, but Whistler does, I'll send her to you.  Keep it still.”  He nodded softly to the man and re-did the binding.  Only one of the women from the village itself was still awake by now, the other three had succumbed to weariness after putting short-term measures on most of the injured.  He didn't know if any of them knew bones, but no-one else spoke up.  Whistler had just finished with her side of the room as he approached and was taking a moment to look at the injured, members of the band alongside people from the village.  She looked tired and sad.

“Still think this was the right call, kid?”  Satin swallowed but held her gaze.

“I think it was the only call to make, Whistler.”  She sighed, knuckling her back for a few moments.

“I'm sure your girlfriend over there thinks so, but what about Violet, or Grass, Dreamer, Tom, or any of the others that died.  What if you'd died, Satin, died here tonight, without ever getting your chance for revenge, hmm?  Would it still have been the right call then?”  Satin broke her gaze at last, looking down and to the side.  He couldn't find an answer for her.

“The man down the end, Whistler.  His arm's broken badly, and I can't set bones.  Can you help him?”  He didn't look up, but felt her eyes staring into him.  After a moment he heard her sighed again, the sound releasing the cross tension between them as she relaxed.

“Of course I can, Satin.  Don't worry about it.”  As she moved past him, he felt her rest an arm about his shoulders and squeeze softly.  The sensation tugged at his shirt and it made him wince.  Dried blood from his wounds had left it stuck to him in several places, he realised.

“You're hurt.”  It was an accusation.  The girl, Marren, had trailed over after him again.  “I thought I saw them get you, while you were fighting.  A few times...  but you've stayed here all night, looking after everyone else, and I thought maybe they hadn't really.  But you are hurt, after all... your clothes just hide it.  Stop, please.”  Satin lifted a hand to brush aside her words for a moment, taking the few steps towards the raised section at the end of the hall and looking to Marley.

“We're about done here, old man.  Whistler is taking care of the last serious injury now.  Some of ours are in no condition to ride.  Not yet, anyway.  It's morning now, almost, give them the day, and maybe by tonight.”  Marley nodded to him, though Satin could see the weight of weariness behind his eyes now.  He looked over to the man he'd been speaking with.

“I'm sorry.  Much as I hate to be indebted, it seems I'll have to ask you to bear with our injured for a day more.”

“Many in the village will not be pleased.”  The other man looked older, his hair white with only a few hints of grey still in it, and his voice had a dry creak to it.  “You come in the dark of night, dressed as brigands and bearing weapons for a fight.  Timely as your arrival was, it is hard to mistake your intentions.  What happens now, then, once you take leave of us?  Do you plan to continue your course as before?  Should I give you my blessing only to find your own sword in my ribs, rather than an orcs?”  Marley shrugged his shoulders.

“A fair question I suppose.  No use pretending, we're light on supplies and your settlement here has been doing well for yourselves this season.  Aye, we were planning to take some of that for ourselves.  You can thank Satin there that we're even here at all.  On my own, I would have turned us back and laid low until it was done with.  More of my boys would be alive now, if I had.”  The elder's hard gaze stayed on Marley for a few more moments, before flicking to Satin.  He leaned forward to look at him and the eyes travelled up and down for a few seconds.

“I've been watching you work, boy.  I may be old, but I'm not senile yet; I can see the care on your face while you treat our hurt, as well as your own.  You were out there fighting the orcs too, but if my eyes aren't too far faded yet, I'd say you're not even of age.  If only half the young men of this town had your dedication, things would be easier for us, I'm sure...  You give your allegiance to this man and his bandits?”

“He's injured!”  Marren had darted forward to protest the leader's severe tone.  She stumbled for words for a moment, then found herself again.  “He was hurt badly in the fighting, but he stayed to look after our people instead of himself.  Please, they deserve our hospitality!”  After a moment she fell silent, then blushed and shrank back under the attention that turned to her.  The old man tilted his head.

“It's Marren, yes?  Lithawyn's daughter?  Child it's not so simple as that...”  He was pensive for a moment, then nodded to himself.  “Yet in a way, you are right.  Very well.  Whatever your intentions may have been before coming here, I am convinced that this night, at least, you've come to our aid unlooked for, and at peril and loss to yourselves, and for that we owe you a debt of thanks.  I give you the hospitality of the town until you and yours are able to leave, at the very least.  You, young man, 'Satin', was it?  Thank you for tending the wounded here, both yours and ours, but please, do not neglect your own hurts on our account any longer.”  He leaned back in his chair and Satin nodded to him once, then once more to Marley.

“I'm fine. Whistler's busy still, but I'll ask her to take a look when she's done.”  He turned to go, wincing again as he felt his shirt tugging.  A part of him was convinced he only felt it now because they'd brought it to his attention.  He felt a small hand touch his shoulder and paused.

“It, em, it looks like she'll be a while and... and the longer you leave it, the more chance it will scar.  I...  I could clean them up for you, i-if you don't mind.”  There were pink spots in the girl's cheeks as she spoke and Satin could feel Marley grinning at him, even with his back turned.  He shrugged, mindful of the movement of the fabric now and nodded to her.  She hesitated, then shuffled a foot.

“O-only there's not room enough here.  The mats and beds are all full.  We've, um, we have a spare room at my house.” The blush in her cheeks grew brighter as she continued, her words gaining speed a she did.  “It's just next door.  I'm sure mother and father won't mind.  They'll be waking soon as well, but you've been up all night and you'll need rest.” By the end she was almost mumbling at the floor, her feet shuffling back and forth.  Marley chuckled aloud but stopped himself a moment later.  The elder cleared his throat, though he was smiling as well.

“Have a care there, Marren, you're beginning to sound very forward with our guest.”  Satin was almost certain he heard the girl squeak, but regardless she managed to look up at him, uncertain.  Her eyes were a mix of blue and green, somewhere between the two, and the contrast served to make the pink in her cheeks seem brighter.  She looked nervous enough to bolt for the doors, between the blush and the way she was biting her lip.  He nodded to her and was rewarded with a bright, relieved smile.

“Alright, if you wish.  I don't think any of these cuts are deep enough to need stitches anyway, and I would welcome a comfortable place to lie.”  He glanced down, surprised, when he felt her dart a hand out to take his and then she was leading him out of the hall.

Outside, the dawn was rising and the air was still sharp and cold.  In the square he could still see the remnants of spreading blood, sinking into the ground, though many of the uninjured people had spent time shifting the slain bodies of the orcs outside the town bounds.  The men and women who had died had been arranged more neatly on one side of the square for now.  They would be buried today, once the living had managed to rest.    

“This way...”  Marren's voice was soft and a glance showed him that she, too, was looking at the bodies of the fallen.  She turned towards a house only a short distance from the hall, still leading him by the hand, but stopped suddenly as someone approached them.  It was James, calm but serious, as always.  He spared a glance for Marren and Satin knew his eye had darted down to see her hand gripping his.

“All done with the wounded, Satin?  Whistler and Marley still talking things out in there with their leader, I assume?”  Satin nodded once, trying not to see the slight crinkle in the other man's eyes, even though he kept a straight face.

“Mostly done.  Whistler's finishing up.”  He relayed the decision of the town's leader and the condition of the injured members of the band, hesitating for a moment before adding. “Marren here has offered to help me clean up my own cuts and scrapes.”  Here James did break into a small grin at last.

“Oh, aye, I'm sure she has.”  He winked at the pair and Marren blushed bright enough to shame the sunrise, trying to hide her face from him as she cowered behind Satin.  James continued in a more serious tone.  “I was just come to let you know we're bunking down a little way outside the town, those of us who weren't hurt.  Folks are sharing drinks and memories, but there's time enough for that later if you're tired and in need of rest.  Come to us once you've gotten some sleep, and we'll sort out what else needs doing, alright?”  Satin nodded, though he couldn't shake the feeling of James' hidden smirking

“I will.  Make sure you let Fel know that Speedy's going to be alright.  She's lost a lot of blood, but she'll make it.  We both know he'll worry himself into a state without some reassurance.”

“You're not wrong.  I will.  Rest well Satin.  And you young lady, take good care of this one.  He's the best we've got.”  James winked again then continued on towards the mead hall, leaving Satin to shake his head at the man's back.  He looked to Marren.

“That was James.  He taught me a lot of what I know about fighting.”  She seemed to be recovering herself somewhat and gripped his hand tighter for a moment before starting to walk again.

“You looked much more skilled out there last night.  No-one took on as much as you did, through it all.”  She reached the door and stopped to fumble with the latch.  Satin allowed himself a small smirk.

“I'll bet Marley did more than I did, and without getting himself all cut up.”

“I wasn't watching him,” it was a quiet murmur, almost like she was speaking to herself rather than him, though he realised it was because she was talking down into her chest, blushing again.  “Ah...  Come in, this way.”  The door opened a moment later and he felt himself led inside.

Inside the house, Satin could see the signs of a cosy and comfortable living.  A well stacked fireplace, what looked like a cooking area and scullery to one side, and a narrow flight of stairs that led them up to the bedrooms on the attic floor.  There was a short hall and two doors, both closed.  Marren led him to one, opening it and pulling him inside.  The room itself was quite small, with a window set into the gable letting in the morning light.  There was a vaguely floral scent in the air and his eyes picked out a number of personal effects scattered about as though in common use.  A simple hair comb on a ledge by an equally plain mirrored glass made him raise an eyebrow.

“Marren...  It may have been a long time since I've been inside a house in anything more than a fleeting dash but, I don't think this is a spare room.  I only saw two doors in the hall.”  There was the muted, wooden sound of the door closing, followed by the inner latch being dropped and he glanced around to see Marren standing with her hands clasped in front of her, shuffling one foot nervously.

“I... I may not have been completely honest about the spare room.  And, em, mother and father might get upset if they knew I brought you here, but they already woke.  They're out helping clean up by now.”  Again that worried look, peeking up towards him with her head still down.  This time she managed to add a small smile to it.  Satin swallowed as his mind finally began to put the pieces together.

“I hope you were at least honest about wanting to help me clean up, then.”  He had meant the words as a vague caution, but she seemed encouraged by them instead, grinning more broadly as she began to nod her head.

“Oh...  Oh yes, yes, um, just wait here.  You can, um, you can sit down and make yourself comfortable.” A small giggle slipped out between her words and she immediately clapped a hand over her mouth.  It was a moment before she continued.  “I'll go and get some hot water, I won't be long!”  She smiled at him again before dashing from the room.

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