00 - Always a stranger, 2/2
Two men were sitting in the patrol officer’s office.
“Of course. And I would like to see her too,” said Teanred.
Kortheod looked at him with confusion.
Teanred leaned forward, put his elbows on the table and leaned his head in his palms.
“I cannot leave now. As an officer in this situation, I cannot afford to be away for a day, so the four day travel there and back is simply impossible.”
Then he raised his eyes and looked at his son, Kortheod.
“But you check on your mother. You have still the right for a few days off, I’ll make sure of it. After all, it’s been already a year.”
Teanred was measuring Kor with thorough and caring look. Boy, how you grew up… At least the look at you reminds me of her. You have Cranna’s hair and her gracious moves…
“Yes, father.” Kor nodded in understanding, in spite of the sorrow inside.
“Give her hugs for me,” smiled Teanred slightly, before Kor left.
*
Something was not right. He felt it a mile away. A faint sense, a tiny stain on a large canvas of the sunny day.
When he was reaching the cartrev, his former home, he heard the cow. It was mooing in a higher pitch, in an anxious tone. He could still recognize it. Somebody didn’t milk the cow for more than a day.
He stopped his horse, quickly jumped off and didn’t bother with tying.
Kor blasted the door open, it slammed against the wall.
“Ma!”
Cranna was lying on the bunk, gasping, forehead covered with sweat. Kor jumped to her and took her inert hand. Then he realized the smell of rotten meat.
Kor’s eyes filled with tears. “Ma, ma…”
He checked her for wounds. He found terribly maimed leg, her calf and shin was crushed and torn.
A bucket of cold water could bring Cranna to consciousness and ease her glowing forehead a bit, but it couldn’t stop the inflammation and gangrene.
She was looking at him, with her mouth closed firmly as usual, yet her eyes were radiating with love.
“Kor… It’s good you’re ‘ere.”
“What happened, ma?”
“Wolf trap. I was clumsy like I never been…”
“Father should have been here, but the army couldn’t allow him now.”
“I know, my dear.”
“How long…?” He estimated at least two days, the wound was festering and reeking awfully.
“Three nights, I guess…”
Kor clasped his palms that were holding her hand. Too late… at this moment, nobody could help her anymore.
“Don’t cry, don’t mourn for old clumsy hag…” It was the opposite, obviously, and both of them knew it. Cranna was on top of her physical potentials, only reaching her forty winters. She had slender but muscular stature, still with the right shapes at the right places. There was only one wrinkle on her face, the one between her eyes she had from childhood when she learned to frown.
A moment of soberness and clear thoughts came to his mother’s eyes. “Don’t forget you’re dragon inside. Proud and strong. Don’t be slithery and devious. Yes, you are also rohirrim. Take the best from both.”
Kor completely understood why father fell in love with dunnish girl, resembling to a beast of prey. Gracious, agile and deadly, loving as nature element. A cougar in human skin. And now the nature had called and the beast was to die.
Kor held her until the end. That was the rest of the day and all night until dawn.
*
“Get lost, duvodiad.”
Kor pushed the first dunnish villager aside, striding slowly but firmly forward.
“Where’s Tronnag? Where’s that bloody bastard?” he shouted.
The Draig-luth inhabitants were not believing their eyes and ears. The man from outcast cartrev marched into their village and was insulting their elder. The duvodiad boy who barely ever had the courage to reach the palisades of the settlement. And now he comes after seven years with enemy’s hauberk on his chest.
They had spears ready for striking, but the extraordinary situation smithed them to the ground.
When Kor reached half his way to the council house, a stout grey-haired man appeared and walked towards him. They both stopped a few steps from each other. The elder was measuring Kortheod with disgust, Kor was stabbing Tronnag with hateful look.
“You knew it. You let her die.”
Tronnag said nothing.
“You could see it across the valley,” continued Kor. His mother’s cartrev was a few hours travel from the village, one of many of Dragon-clan settlements.
The elder was silent for a while, then strained through his teeth: “We don’t care about outcasts.”
Kor was choking on ire. “Bastards! Murderers!”
The crowd hummed after these words. It was already too much.
“Go away, half-blood and duvodiad. Your words are nothing here,” said the elder, but his starting anger was visible.
“It’s better to be a half true-blood than spoiled blood. Uncle.” The last word was pronounced separately, with crystalline loathing.
Kor looked around and saw more of surprise and shame than hatred and aversion. Then his eyes found Tronnag again.
Then he spitted at elder’s feet. He was looking at him, checking the insult to take effect.
It did.
Then he turned his back on him and started to walk away.
The crowd’s humming increased to roaring. Kor continued to walk, most of his steam already blown off. And also his calm nature was returning back.
He wasn’t looking over his shoulder. But he knew that Tronnag was boiling inside with terrible anger. But couldn’t do anything against Kor. They couldn’t harm him.
When Kortheod returned to his horse, he checked again his pocket with mother’s strand of hair. He sat in the saddle, once again said goodbye by looking at her grave. A low cairn was ascending from the plain about a hundred feet from the house.
The cow was released free already since morning. It was still grazing near the house, but he knew it will soon find a wild herd to join.
Then he spurred the steed, thinking about the words he will say to Teanred, when he will give him her hair.
She’s gone, father.
