Shorty & the Beast: Part Four (rough draft)

Back in Earthwick Hamfist Portigardens was, to put it in the simplest of terms, a raging wreck. The moment he found Roslile’s note and digested it, he went into shock. He had no clue what to do or how to act, and for the first few hours of the day, he went around like she was playing one of her ridiculous games. It wasn’t until the day wore on and it sunk into him that his daughter was actually gone. He raced around the entire village asking if anyone had seen her. News about the sapphires reached him, as well as someone saying they saw her leaving on Noodle early in the morning.

And so Hamfist went home, going into his daughter’s room where he found things that had always been there were missing. Everything, except for the locket that had once belong to her mother. He took the locket and sat upon the edge of Roslile’s bed. After that, he never went back into the abandoned Bellmore to work. Instead he waited for his child to return home, tending to her garden so it wouldn’t be dead when she came home. Perhaps if the garden was okay, then Roslile would be as well. Wherever she was, he prayed she was safe.

Sometimes when Hamfist prayed, Roslile was getting hit over and over my Poppy. It wasn’t out of malice, it was just training. Poppy was proficient in all sorts of combat, specifically hand to hand, but she trained with all sorts of weapons as well. She told Roslile that her first ever weapon was a cat iron skillet her mother had. But after a single lesson with her, Roslile realized Poppy was the weapon.

For ages Roslile had played pretend with the handle of a broom or a stick wrapped with fabric. She thought she had some sort of knowledge on how to fight, but now. To her surprise Roslile knew nothing about combat. She had never gone up against an opponent before aside from a tree or hay bale. Poppy was half-orc, and a powerful one at that, her blows carried weight, carried purpose. She knocked Roslile on her ass easily, but she always followed up by teaching Roslile how someone, even a tiny Halfling, could fight victoriously.

“Size, in a way, does matter, but it’s what you do with your size that counts. Someone like you is built for misdirection. Don’t let them know you’re fierce and competent. Use your size to your advantage, and you’d be surprised at what you can do.”

“Easy for you to say,” Roslile grumbled, nursing a bruise on her upper arm. “No Halfling has ever been a hero.”

Poppy frowned and sat back down beside Roslile. “What’s a hero to you?”

Roslile raised her eyes to Poppy then back down at her arm. “A hero is someone who is strong, who fights for what’s right, and they win by the sweat of the brow, the strength of their heart. They defeat their enemies and-”

“Not all heroes are fighters,” Poppy explained. “Heroes don’t always use their fists or the sweat off their brows to win battles. Sometimes that’s just a bully.”

Roslile opened her mouth but closed immediately.

“Heroes happen everywhere and everyday. Even if you feel that all you did was tell us where a camp is, you probably started Obresh’s path to freedom. That’s a little heroic.” She placed her hand upon Roslile’s shoulder. “You left your home, have traveled halfway across the world, to find a way to protect your village. That’s heroic.”

“What if I fail?” Roslile’s voice cracked.

“Abelard the Snow Knight was a story my mom used to tell me and my brothers,” Poppy replied thoughtfully. “The Polar was facing a strange and sudden defrost, which turned out to be caused by a witch. So he traveled far to find this witch, along the way he met several people, helped them and their problems, and kept going. By the time he found the witch to stop her, he was weak and sick, he failed in stopping her. But the people he had helped along the way, they remembered him as a hero, and he was remembered, but the witch was forgotten.” She tilted her head and smiled at Roslile. “Does that make sense?”

Her smile was faint, but Roslile nodded her head. After each training with Poppy, she often went to rest for a while before supper. She would talk with Kyairil mostly, going over what she had learned that afternoon. Sometimes, the two would work on what they could do through their bond.

Since Kyairil’s magic was draconic in nature, especially that of the black dragon, there was acid involved. This explained why she threw up that first time they had tried, the only acid she had at the ready was stomach acid. It still made her sick to her stomach to attempt, but they were able to master a few other techniques like the hypno trick she had tried before. They were able to master several spells together, each one becoming more powerful as their bond grew. She was practicing a lot those days on the ship, training both with Poppy and Kyairil. The more she did both though, the more control she found she had. She was getting stronger physically with Poppy. And with Kyairil it felt like her mind was getting stronger.

It wasn’t surprising that Roslile slept like a brick most nights. After supper she usually went out immediately. In her dreams she visited with Kyairil, sometimes she was too tired to even dream so she cuddled with him, sprawled out on his chest or curled into the crook of his arm. Other times, they walked along the beach in her memory, or they strolled around Earthwick.

One evening, she dreamed of his bedroom again, but he wasn’t found in bed like usually. Instead he stood before the fire, looking deep inside the flames which slowly began to snuff out. The room turned dark and cold, and when Kyairil breathed it came out as thick white clouds.

“What’s going on?” Roslile asked.

“I’m sorry,” Kyairil knelt onto the ground, pulling his knees up and laying his head upon them. He wrapped his arms around himself and sat there huddled. “I’m having a bad dream.”

Roslile approached him, placing her hands upon him. He felt cold, he somehow seemed smaller. “What do you mean?”

“New moon,” he whimpered.

Roslile looked out the window where the moon was fat and full, almost pushing itself against the bars on the window. She shook her head. “But it’s full.”

“No,” his voice sounded wet and sniveling. “Outside of this in reality.”

“Don’t cry.” Roslile wrapped her arms around him as much as she could. “It’s okay. I’m here. I can change the dream.”

Kyairil shook his head. “Not even you could.”

A shadow appeared along the wall and standing at the door was a tall, imposing figure. It was a woman, clad in a dark robe and her hands covered in metal. Kyairil curled up more and laid upon the floor. Roslile turned towards this woman, her fists clenched and her jaw stiff.

“She died, Kyairil,” the woman said. “Your punishment has been decided.”

Roslile’s eyes opened wide and she pushed the woman away, turning the room into the beach. Kyairil laid in the water, shaking and crying. She pulled him out, layng him on the sand. He wouldn’t open up, so she sat beside him, keeping quiet.

“I think I’m selfish,” she began.

Kyairil arms twitched.

“The more time I spend with Poppy I think this,” she whispered. “I hear her talk about herself, about her family, about everybody in Obresh and how they’re having to fight for their lives, their freedom. I’ve never had to fight for anything. I thought I did, because I believed that being a hero was important. But it’s not...being a hero isn’t something you aim towards. It’s not something you can be. It’s something you do without even thinking about it.” Roslile sniffled and  rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes.

“I’ve gotten myself into all this mess because I thought that’s what I was supposed to do. But it’s not! I didn’t want to protect my village, I mean I do, but that...I just wanted to be called a hero!”

Kyairil unrolled himself, rising off the sand and gazing down at Roslile. He touched her cheek, his fingertips became wet with her tears, which he attempted to taste. He touched her again, moving her hands away. “You’re my hero.”

She shook her head. “All I had to do was free you, but I made it into a game! I didn’t want to help you because it was right or even nice. I’m so sorry!”

He wrapped his arms around her, feeling how warm and small she was. “Why are you doing it now then?”

“Because-” she whimpered.

Kyairil smiled, kissing her cheek lovingly. “I’m the one who should be sorry.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “I have so much I need to tell you, but I am so afraid that if I do then I will lose you, possibly forever.” He held her hands tightly. “I’m selfish too. I wanted to use your naivete to free myself. But now, I want to be free so I can have you.” He smiled sadly. “Roslile, you’re my hero.”

Roslile took her hands and placed them upon his face. “I know you did something bad to be imprisoned like this. I want to understand-”

Kyairil kissed her to silence her. He held her between his hands. The ocean lapped behind them, tickling at his feet as he laid her upon the sand. He looked into her eyes and she gazed back at him.

“I don’t want you to understand this,” he whispered. “Because you’re so much better than I could ever hope to be. You think you’re selfish,” he chuckled. “I am the king of selfishness.”

Roslile was then woken by Poppy, who had come into her room. “It’s time,” she whispered.

She gathered her things and left with Poppy who put her on a rowboat with a few others as Noodle. Clothed in black, they used the moonless night to row to shore where there was a carriage waiting. Before she left, Poppy gave Roslile the secret intel she was to deliver to Prince Himank. In order to protect it, it was hidden within the new handle of the halberd.

“You must be our deliverer,” a tall orc replied. “My sister sent word about you.”

“Bryok,” Roslile said softly. “It’s good to meet you.”

Bryok took Roslile and the others to his home, where they were given a big, hot meal, as well as new clothes to blend into the territory they were about to travel. Roslile was outfitted with special leather armor, as was Noodle. She was even even given a small medical pack, rations, and supplies to make her mission.

“Himank sent this for you as well.” Byrok stuck a pin into Roslile’s new cloak. It was a bright red ruby surrounded by pearls that looked like shar fangs clutching the ruby in powerful jowls. “So he will know who you are. He’s promised to give you safe passage to the kingdom and an audience with his mother for your services.”

Roslile touched the ruby, and rather than be filled with an a sense of excitement, like she had thought all along, she was overcome with dread. “I’m scared, is that okay?”

Bryok put his big hand upon her shoulder. “No one is brave without fear. Without fear, it’s foolishness. My sister has trained you, so I do not doubt you are capable.”

“I’m with you,” Kyairil whispered. “My magic will protect you. I believe in you.”

Roslile left, heading towards Himank in the northern part of the Peninsula where the beaches turned into jagged cliffs, which grew into vicious mountain peaks. Only recently had this land been taken over by the Rakshasa Kingdom and their allies. Before, it belonged to a House which had aligned with Sanguis Rex. The area was still dangerous and filled with those wishing to fight against the Ruby Empire as it was. Roslile journeyed first with a small party, which was disguised as a family so they could sneak in. Once inside though, Roslile would have to travel alone, as Himank was hiding in a camp of civilians who were growing sick or injured due to the battles. Due to her appearance, she would be taken as an orphan and be able to slip passed the border undetected. Or at least, not taken as a threat.

Once she was alone, all Roslile thought about was Earthwick. Traveled through the rocky terrain, she missed the lush green earth, the rolling hills of grass, the forest floors of thick moss. She longed for her garden. She missed her father horribly. Everything here was rocks, rocks, and more rocks. It didn’t seem right there would be any life here. It didn’t seem possible. She made her way to the secret camp, but all the while, she felt dread because of the stones.

One evening she stopped to rest in a village that had been ruined by the battles. It had probably once been the home of the civilians Himank was taking care of, so it felt like a small sign of hope. People still lingered, possibly those looking for the civilians, or squatters taking refuge within the destruction. Roslile found a fire to sit near, taking out some brea which she began to eat slowly.

“There’s people around, but everything is so quiet,” Kyairil murmured. “It’s like these people are ghosts.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they were.” Roslile looked around, so much destruction laid before her. Homes toppled, buildings crushed by large stones. Large chunks of blackened wood skewered up through the earth in jagged misshapen fingers. “I never knew was war did,” he voice clipped. “I’d never seen it before so I never assumed.” She squished her bread. “It’s so awful.”

“I’m sorry you had to see this, but at the same time, it’s good you understand. War isn’t glamorous like the stories make it sound. War is ugly, and it doesn’t matter who you are. The innocent fall along with everyone else.”

Someone came and sat near Roslile, pulling their cloak around them tight. “Cold night, isn’t it?” He asked. His face was hidden by a hood.

Roslile tensed and she struggled to swallow the bread in her mouth. “Yeah,” she answered simply.

“Are you alone?” The man asked.

Noodle began to growl and he stood before Roslile.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he chuckled. “Are you okay?”

“I’m here,” she said.

The man looked to the fire. “Better than most,” he sighed heavily. “I’m sorry. I’ve not been able to talk to people much. I’ve not seen my family in a while.”

Roslile thought about her father and she sniffled.

“My dad almost died recently,” he said thoughtfully. “My brother is risking his life for his wife right now. Everyone is scattered and my mom is trying to hold everything together, but it’s hard. I’m here, and all I want to do is go home.”

Roslile watched him closely. He was quite large, but there was a slenderness to his shoulders, and there was something twitching underneath his cloak. “I understand that feeling,” she answered.

He chuckled. “I like your pin.” He stretched out his hand so that she could see the ring on his finger that matched.

Roslile sputtered, almost choking. “Are you-?”

Himank pulled back his hood slightly. He was beautiful. Pure white fur with streaks of black, and large golden eyes surrounded by thick lashes. He smiled and pressed a finger to his lips. “How lucky.” He moved his hood back. “I came here on a whim. I never expected to meet you so soon.” He stood up. “Follow me, I’ll take you somewhere we can talk.” He left and Roslile took Noodle, following far enough behind him it didn’t seem suspicious. She trembled with excitement. This was Prince Himank! Son of Queen Mythri! He was a demigod! She was so close to Mythri now, it felt unbelievable.

Himank led her into an abandoned building where most of the roof was gone and the floor was covered in ash. He removed his hood inside and looked down at Roslile as she entered. His smile was bright and charming and his ears twitched slightly. “Thank you for doing this. I know this would have been a difficult journey for even myself.”

“It’s an honor, your majesty!” Roslile said breathlessly.

“Oh please, call me Himank,” he laughed. “Here, you and I are equals. So, what is it I shall call you?”

She was fit to burst, so excited to be standing in front of someone so important as Himank. She had so admired the Rakshasa family for so long, it felt unbelievable to stand here. “You can call me Roslile, you majesty. I’m Roslile Portigardens! Uh, Himank, uh sir!” She was growing flustered. “I have the plans for-”

“Keep them,” Himank replied sharply. “Don’t give them to me. Should anything happen I would be the first one targeted. Until we get home, I am going to ask you to keep them safe.”

“But don’t you want to make sure they’re right? That I even have them.”

Himank winked. “If it’s right, it’s right. If it’s a trap, well, best it be a trap where I am at my best. Don’t you think, Roslile?”

“Oh,” Roslile whispered.

“I like him,” Kyairil chuckled. “Good to see the Rakshasa are still in their prime.”

Himank pulled out a bag from a hidden hole in the wall. “Come now, let's go.” He pulled his hood back up. “We’ll go to the camp, and from there, we’ll be able to head back home.”

Roslile followed with Noodle beside him. She kept looking around, making sure they weren’t being followed. But once they reached a bridge crossing over a raveen, someone stood on the other side.

Himank pushed Roslile behind him. “Do you mind stepping aside so we can finish crossing?” He called out.

The figure stepped onto the bridge and pulled out a shining knife.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree,” Himank replied. His hand on Roslile’s shoulder tightened. “Neither of us have anything except some food and a rather large dog.”

“Nothing we need from you, prince,” the figure growled. “Just need you to stand where you are.”

“Oh, come on.” Himank turned. “Run!” She shouted at Roslile, pushing her ahead of him as they tried to race to cross the bridge before the ropes were cut.

Roslile then turned, urged on by Kyairil. She raised the halberd, pointing it behind them. Himank grabbed her, trying his hardest to get them both across safety. Kyairil channeled his powers through Roslile, her eyes glowed bright green which crackled and sparked, going down her arms and through the halberd. The ropes were cut and the bridge began crumbling behind them. Himank was close, but he slipped, falling with the bridge. He screamed, Noodle barked in terror.

“You’ve got this!” Kyairil yelled over the wind. “Do it now!”

Roslile stabbed the halberd into the air and they stopped falling. They hovered there in the air, floating as if in water. Himank’s breath shuddered and he cried in relief. Noodle slowly floated upwards like a weightless bubble, whimpering as he went.

“What’s going on? Are we dead?” Himank choked on his breath.

Roslile pulled the halberd back and the bridge rose once again, rising up rapidly, carrying them with it. The bright green surrounded the bridge, connecting the ropes back together and solidifying the bridge. The man on the other was shocked into dropping his blade, which allowed Roslile to attack. She vanished from in front of Himank and reappeared before the man, knocking out his ankles so she could put the blade of the halberd upon his neck.

“You did it!” Kyairil cheered. “You really did it!”

She was shaking and breathing hard. “Holy oats,” she laughed.

Himank rushed up behind her and Noodle stood on top of the man. Still is disbelief, but not wanting to waste a second, Himank took care of their attacker, using his own blade against him. Others came to Himank’s defense, having been worried when the prince didn’t return at the promised time. The man was taken to be interrogated, and Himank and Roslile followed along.

“You saved my life,” he said quietly to her.

“Oh, no, I didn’t-” she stopped and shook her head. “I wasn’t even thinking about that.”

Himank smiled down at her. “I’ve seen a lot since this war started. I’ve seen blood magic, hell, I’ve even practiced it. I’ve seen the liches perform their power. But that, what you just did, I’ve never seen before. How did you do it?”

Roslile held the halberd close to her. “It wasn’t me, your majesty, uh, Himank,” she gulped and extended the halberd. “It was him.”

His eyes narrowed and his tail twitched. “Okay fine. Keep your secrets.” He grinned. “I get how magic works.”

“No-” she tried to argue but Kyairil coaxed her.

“For now, let’s save it, you can explain everything later.”

There wasn’t much time to rest after that. Due to Himank being discovered by enemy forces, a rushed journey back to Rakshasa Country was underway. They left that night, leaving the rocky terrain where it soon turned to desert.

“I know this is all very sudden and you must be exhausted,” Himank said to her. “But once we are home, you are welcome to stay as long as you want. I plan on thanking you properly once we are there.”

“That’s very nice, but I would actually love to get home soon,” Roslile confessed. “I miss it, and I didn’t think I would this much.”

Himank smiled. “I understand more than you know. My home is my oasis. I miss my wife, my parents. I even miss all my awful siblings,” he laughed. “Where is home for you?”

“Earthwick,” she said with a smile. “It’s a small village in Charbagne.”

“Charbagne! Wonderful place,” he laughed. “My friend Ikid is king there. We just sent troops to protect its boarders from Sothen and Gravelmeuse. It’s out last hope on the Western Continent.”

“Really?” Roslile exclaimed. “It’s safe? It really is?”

“Hopefully, we shall see.” Himank replied. “Perhaps once everything settles, i can visit your home. Anyone there waiting on you?”

“My dad,” Roslile’s voice warbled. “He’s all I’ve got.”

“I’m sure once word gets back about what you’ve done for all the Ruby Empire, you will have much more waiting on you,” Himank said brightly. “With the information you’ve brought us, you’ve probably just saved us all.”

“Hear that?” Kyairil said sweetly. “You’re not going to be just a hero to Earthwick, but to all the Ruby Empire.”

Tears filled Roslile’s eyes. “I don’t...I’m not…” She shook her head. “I just want to go home and be a gardener again.”

“You can, no one says you can’t.” Kyairil’s voice was so warm and loving. “I’m so proud of you Roslile.”

She smiled, tears streaming down her face. “Once you’re free, is it okay if we go home?” She sniffled. “Is that really what you want?”

“If that is alright. I know things have changed since the start of this journey. My mind certainly has,” he whispered. “I wanted to return to what I knew once I fulfilled my promise to you. But now, is it okay if I remain by your side? At least until you grow tired of me?”

“I’m just a gardener,” she whispered.

“I know for a fact you’re not, my little dove. But it doesn’t matter. I will do as I please.”

Roslile smiled, feeling Kyairil’s arms wrap around her tightly. “Of course you will.”