Revenge of the Farmgirl

 Maybe it was suicidal, maybe it was the move of a half-dead woman with multiple broken bones seeing red, but Nyrahn charged towards the battle tearing up her painstakingly-ploughed and carefully-planted fields with a roar her warrior ancestors would be proud of, her deadly weapon ready to swing.

The drakyr saw a crazed lady lurching towards it, wielding her cooking utensil of choice, screeching like a banshee, and did what any sane creature that’d forgotten it possessed wings would.

It turned and ran.

“Oh no ye don’t! Ye won’t run from me!” Her vision may have been giving out, but her last sight would not be this menace’s rump trampling her perfect furrows.

Meanwhile, the man who may or may not have been the cause of the entire debacle watched as his target skittered away like a headless chook, chased by a shambling woman who’d seen better days and probably wasn’t a threat to anyone.

What do you mean not a threat?! Look at the way she’s handling that club! That thing could break bones!

So could the drakyree’s tail. The two of them watched as she went sailing, her screech of rage trailing off neatly straight through the window of a... what did they call it again? Was that the house or the barn? Humans had too many terms for these things.

An unintelligible crash that contained a concerning amount of crunch tumbled down through the entire thing as the drakyree stood there shaking like it’d just seen its life flash before its eyes.

Well, at least we know where the boar went.

One last thump shook the structure. This one softer. Slightly.

The shout that roared out a second later was not soft.

The drakyree froze again at the chilling sound, and he could relate. Wherever this feral female came from, she was mad as a mother drakyr. Better to get this over quickly.

Drawing his sword, his bow sadly burnt to a crisp—he’d liked that bow, too—he charged the drakyr while it was too busy feeling the weight of certain death hanging over its head.

Sadly, its tail was still on a hair-trigger. It slapped him away with a yelp, and he went flying, again, involuntarily, for the second time that day.

So... how’s this strategy working out for you?

“Shut up,” he groaned through a mouth ground into half a length of dirt. Trying to fight with this small body had too many drawbacks.

Lifting his head, he found at least his horse was making friends with the local cow. He glared at her. Useless old nag.

“What in the falling is wrong with all you crazy sapients.” A hissing, rattling mumble approached him as he staggered to his feet again. “All I did was just feed off a few humans. It’s not that bad!”

He spat out a mouthful of sod, a barely-repressed glow flaring in his eyes as he curled his fingers into claws. “It’s also against the law. So either you’re coming with me, or you’re burning right here.”

Sparks crackling along his fingers, he—

CLONK!

A heavy round metal thing sent the drakyree straight to Akab.

He stared, sparks fizzling into sad wisps of smoke. One moment it was standing there aggressively, the next it was laid out like a snuffed candle on the ground, the tool that had done the deed rolling quietly into the dirt, barely even dented.

Is... is that thing soul-reinforced?

He didn’t know. He didn’t know if he wanted to know. He looked up at the one who’d thrown it and felt his knees trying to betray him as the heat of her glare threatened to drop him dead where he stood, knifing straight through his own skull. He’d only ever seen that crazy gleam on his horse and it never boded well for him—

She collapsed.

He blinked, death missed by a hair. Still alive? Checking himself over just in case, he could confirm his soul was intact, that it wasn’t draining out his toes, and that was just adrenaline leaving his knees weak. Along with the memory of that death-glare.

I told you she was terrifying, Kyter's little cowardly voice whimpered in the back of his head.

For once he’d been right.

They should probably also make sure she wasn’t dead.

___

Nyrahn could see the light, the voice of her dearly-departed mother calling, like music in her ears, and her hand reaching out with that beautiful smile she’d always had....

Except she wasn’t smiling. And her face looked different, somehow, than Nyrahn remembered it. Had she always had rich auburn hair? And piercing, brilliant green eyes? And she looked far, far more masculine than Mam ever had.

“Where did Mam go? You look too handsome for a girl,” she mumbled. “Good sir, s’this Akabreyah’s circle? Like to complain... it’s not very comfortable.... Even if the view’s nice....”

Those strikingly beautiful green eyes blinked, narrow lips on a lightly angular face with higher cheekbones than she was used to moving, a rumbling voice like thunder on the hills and rich as perfectly brewed gravy flowing through her ears. It could be the voice of an angel, though leaving everyone behind would be a bit sad....

A finger poked her in the forehead.

She blinked , the blue sky abruptly snapping into place above the angelic face that she only now noticed had several days’ worth of stubble and dirt staining it. Were angels supposed to look that scruffy?

Wait... something about it seemed familiar....

She squinted as he leaned back, awfully wary for some reason. “Aren’t you... the crazy man who....”

Hold on....

“...who chased a drakyr onto me farm an’ destroyed half it wit' that flamin’ furry lizard?!” She shot up, hunting for a sight of that cursed snake with legs and wings.

And he had absolutely no idea what she’d just said, except that it was angry, explosive, and hopefully aimed at the drakyree, not him. Had she just slipped into another language, or was that a very thick brogue?

Nyrahn’s eyes landed on the unconscious pile of drakyr and relaxed. “Oh, you got it.”

“Yea.” He cleared his throat, still leaning as far back as possible without shuffling away. “It won’t bother you anymore. You’re fine now, so I’ll just—“

“Eh?” She abruptly noticed none of her many multiple broken bones hurt anymore. Actually, apart from a lingering weakness, her bruised and battered body didn’t seem so bruised and battered any longer. “Did you heal me? Are you a soul-seamster?”

He squinted. “A what?”

“A soul-seamster?”

“...Did you just call me a spirit knitter?”

She blinked at him. “You know, someone who dabbles with soul threads, for healing and all that, weaving their life energy...?”

His face did a lot of complicated things. “So like a makkyn. No. I’m not a makkyn.”

How does that translate to spirit knitter???

Internally, he suddenly realised the vast gulf between a makkyn scholar like Jajj—curse that witch of Sykryshnah— and the average human farmer hick. She didn’t even know how to say akryrk. She didn’t even know how souls and the transferral of akryrk from one to another worked, that he shouldn’t even be able to do what he had how he had. On one hand, thank the elements for that because otherwise he’d have to say tuak’te ahnek to this circle, but on the other—

She’s a barbarian, Kyter agreed savagely. A mikklekut crawling in the mud of her own ignorance.

Maybe he wouldn’t go that far. “Anyway, I’ll be leaving.”

She blinked, taken aback. “What?”

Rising to his feet, he dusted off his clothes, grabbing the comatose drakyr by the scruff of its neck and starting to heave what had to be at least as heavy as a full-grown wolf towards his horse, forked tongue lolling out of its mouth.

Leaving her sitting in the dust of her ruined farmyard, half the house gone, the barn a mess, the fields in ruins, mostly drained of her own soul— “You can’t just—! Wait!”

Stumbling to her feet, she hobbled after him on shaky legs that felt more like wilted grass. “Where are ye going?! You ruined my farm!”

He tossed the limp drakyr to the ground next to his horse, the animal eyeing it like he’d just offered it a steak instead of grain. “It was an accident.”

“Oho no, good sir. From the looks of it, you drove that furry egg-spawn of a lizard over here. In our circle that’d need somethin’ to pay for it! It’s just the same as if old Jarradee lost control of his herd and they trampled all over my gardens—it’d need more than just a ‘oh sorry, old girl’ and skipping off into the bounds!”

He stared at her as if she were speaking a foreign language. “How am I supposed to pay for this?”

“Well stayin’ around to help clean up instead of running off would be a good start!”

“There are locals around here, village types,” he tried. “Get them to help.”

“They’re busy plantin’ and workin’ their own land! I already delayed me own brother’s plantings just to help with mine!” Though that was more because he’d insisted, but she couldn’t help that.

He stared at the drakyree, at this wild-eyed, torn-up farmer girl; at the... somewhat ruined farm, and a sinking feeling slowly dropped into the pit of his stomach. It looked like she was the only one working this farm, too.

Hm, she is right, even if she’s an uneducated savage. This is partly our fault. And we can’t just leave a recovering human to do all this work by herself if she’s the only one here. The strain on her soul could be too much, or all those newly-healed fractures could shatter. Humans are very fragile!

He agreed, but there had to be some way out of this.

Or not. Ehniss did tell you that you should learn how to interact better with humans. And besides, if she heard we just abandoned someone in need....

He was perfectly fine at interacting with humans, thanks. Also she should keep her nose out of things.

Yes, but this might make her happier! Hearing that you helped out instead of fading into the night after saving a villager....

Kyter only said that because he planned to laze around in the background watching it all go wrong.

First, how dare you. And second, it’s not like I have a reason to interact with them.

“This is going to take days, woman,” he tried, waving a hand at the mess.

“Of course it is! Because it’s ruined and it needs fixin’, and that’s why I need help with it!”

This was going nowhere. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I don’t even know how to fix your flimsy buildings.”

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, from the way she paused to give him an open-mouthed stare. “You... you don’t know how to repair a house?”

Oh you were right, this is entertaining.

“Hngh.” He dragged both hands down his face. “Just let me drag this drakyree off your farm, and then I’ll come back and see what I can do.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” She waved a hand, stepping towards the obliterated shed. “Let me get the axe, I’ll take care of it right now.”

“Your... axe?”

“A good slicing off the head should do it!” Hefting something out of the wreck, she turned with that gleam back in her eyes and an old, chipped, slightly stained axe in her hand. Was that... dried blood? “I can do a lot with that pelt, and the rest of it should make good fertiliser.”

He swallowed.

Okay no actually this is a very very bad idea. I vote we run.