Chapter 127
A waft of enticing steam blew over Kala's snout. The small, brown-furred, Kelton woman, reaching only four feet tall and some scant inches, stood on a large stool overlooking a metal pot nearly her own height. Fish fillets and grains bubbled away with only her long spoon keeping the grey and green soup from burning. Another dousing of delicious moisture poured over her brown dress matching the fur. The wisps of vapor went past stubby mud-colored horns and flowed up to the stone ceiling and crystal mana lamps above.
Grey hairs would have found some time in the sumptuous sauna in years past, but they had been made brown with a decadent application of the spare healing crafts left behind for the workers at the base. Long lost vigor pushed and pulled seemingly new hands as she worked the only pot boiling away in the line of its siblings at the center of the otherwise lifeless rectangular kitchen. Ahead of her were stoves left idle while behind tables pushed against the grey stone walls for those doing the last preparations before being sent through the open window above showing long rows of tables and accompanying benches.
The golden glow of a mana lamp above reminded her of the sunlight she hadn't technically seen in weeks. As impressive as the sun was, it was present in good and lean times. Fish stew, however, was a sign of plenty. Its soft texture and richness a stark contrast to hard breads softened with gruel.
The routine and smell of this hearty luxury brought forth memories of such good times gone by. Her ears almost picked up the soft grumbles of Salamede, barely reaching half of Kala's already small standing, as she stood impatiently off to the side. Stubby ivory horns shifted with the small child's impatient bouncing for dinner.
Something that Ferris put a stop to with a dramatic raise of his daughter into the air. His grey fur matched Salamede's as she was twirled around like a doll. The next few memories came in the same order they always did and Kala had enough experience to not interrupt their visit. Sitting around a dinner table with steaming bowls, the love her life, and the fruit of their love as Salamede gulped her meal before taking her tax out of her father's portion. Followed by a walk around the human city they had come to call theirs.
What came next was as cruel as it was warm, yet the old Kelton woman had long since stopped resisting it.
Rich fish stew from times past flooded her nostrils, the smell competing with the small field of flowers just outside of the farmhouse. On her side leaned a small lad with brown fur matching hers, though his oak horns had a curl to them. The pouting on display was more typical of boys, with some shoving on her hip and deep grumbling which her husband Ferris answered by picking him up and slamming him into the couch by the dining room. Motherly instinct demanded she look up from the stew to check on her babe's safety, but the playful kick the boy returned to his father allowed her to return to the pot.
A lifetime relived in three turns of a spoon.
Nostalgia and regret, however, couldn't keep her in the past as a knock on the door to the left brought her back to the present.
"Yes?" She called with a voice hoarse in that typical Kelton way and a personal one.
"The ship!" The door exclaimed with an Orc girls voice. "The one Durka flies is coming in for a resupply."
"A resupply and a dinner no doubt," Kala answered in the rough voice of her people. "Let's get the breads ready."
From that single command, a small army of cooks descended onto the kitchen in mere minutes. Sharp metal cutting vegetables and the pounding of flour and water together soon filled the previously empty kitchen. While she still tended her beloved soup, the measuring of dough and determining the specific breads they were to make fell to her.
In the crowd of green and goat women was a pudgy man with short black hair and a bald top. Richard or Rikard, Kala could never seem to remember which, started plying his trade by bringing in baskets of frozen shrimp from a chest hidden in the frozen stone outside. Bread and fillets would take a few hours to fashion, so a course of seared shrimp to cull hunger was going to be served first.
A chorus of clanging and slamming of fish on cutting boards kept up a high pitch as the old goat woman kept her small group of Orc and pregnant Keltons tending to mounds of dough. While they may occupy the same space as the rest of the cooking team, baking was a specialized task that Kala had taken the reigns of. And if the pudgy man kept out of her business as was agreed, the fresh bread would be coming out around the same time as the clam chowder.
At first a few men came in to meander about the long tables. They had the worn look of those who endured the winds and cold of the sky. Any aches or complaints still permeating their bodies, the base soothed with its constant heat and plentiful bounty of steaming food. Human and Kelton men quickly devoured the big steaming bowls of charred shrimp. The next crowd of husbands soon filtered in with their wives and broods, with another round of shrimp coming out.
Soon the warm smell of bread mingled with the sloshing weak ales and crisp fish fillets. Much to the growing cheer of the dining areas patrons.
"Ale?" A human voice called out.
"We've got enough grain from the farms now. Some have tried their hand at beer making." A female voice called back, Orc due to the lack of Kelton roughness.
"I'd forgotten what hot food tasted like." A properly coarse Kelton voice exclaimed to no one in particular.
Such conversation blurred as Kala continued the supervision from her soup pot. The peak of culinary labor came and went after an hour of feasting and drinking. The latter was taken a bit too far by some of the patrons who had to be helped out of the small party. If any were on rotation to take the place of those who had been confined to the ship for weeks on end, they would not be spared their labor as the airship was to be leaving come morning, pounding headaches and all.
As everything does, the thing between a party and a dinner came to an end. Kala sent off her last few helpers before shutting off the pot of fish soup and ladling the delicious contents over a small loaf in a bowl. She took the prize out of the kitchen with a mug of cold water. Her exit through a door along the wall of the kitchen facing the tables brought her into the room that had sucked away so much of her day's effort.
Sitting about were a few stragglers picking at a piece of fish or shrimp as they lounged about. There were few enough of them that the woman in the far left corner immediately drew her eyes. Green skin peeked out above the collar of a brown coat, unobstructed by two large braids of brown hair. With a single glance, Kala instantly placed the loner as Durka. The mother of Gula and, if her demeanor was anything to go by, a woman possessed by a bad mood.
Kala, despite a feeling of queasiness, weaved through the tables until she came up the left side of the one holding her relation in marriage. The bone ring in the ridged nose was the same as ever, but the rest of the Orc's face showed a depression that had become far too reliable every time they met. Thick green lips over small tusks were pensively puckered while the square chin had a tremor so slight most wouldn't notice with a passing glance. The pain in those golden irises nestled in black spheres would not be so easily missed. Kala walked up and placed her meal on the seat opposite of the Orc pilot.
'How is she?' The Kelton woman asked with a spirit connection around the Orcs shoulder, just above the white shirt beneath.
'Great, thank the spirits,' Durka responded with a small smile even as her eyes stayed locked on the wood of the table. 'What about our sister ship? Are we getting some more company in the clouds soon?'
'No,' The older Kelton woman responded with a small huff, 'Seems like there's always some problem or another. From what I've heard, at least. You'd think we'd have these things sorted by now.'
Durka nodded with an absent look at the table.
Kala took a sip of the beloved stew before getting to the real conversation.
'And did you get to have that talk?' She asked mildly with a pointed look at the woman.
Durka's gaze finally pulled up to meet her companions.
'I almost blubbered it out over the damn radio. But, no. I-'
Kala mentally braced herself as those green lips started trembling.
'How do you even start?' Durka asked with a shaken voice inside in the Kelton woman's mind. 'What's the first words that lead to 'I'm sorry I tried to destroy you.' Every time I imagine looking at her, I can't even meet her eyes.'
Muscular shoulders trembled as Durka looked through Kala to somewhere distant.
'She sounds so happy when she talks with Eli over the radio. Happiness I tried to strangle in the crib. Despite years of me putting the ugly thought of being a rapist in her head, she proved me wrong.'
The Orc then properly focused her gaze on Kala.
'The worst part is…. As shitty and irredeemable a person as I am, I thought there was a low even I couldn't plunge. That was until I found the Orcs here could get men. Willingly. Between that and Gula, it was obvious that what I had been saying was a lie. And I got angry. I resented it.'
Kala nodded again, waiting for her to finish draining the poison.
'What an awful mother I've been. If I hadn't pushed her out, I'd say Gula could have never come from someone like me.'
The Kelton woman spoke up with a placing of her spoon into the steaming bowl.
'Did you resent their happiness or that you had spent so long working under a lie?'
Durka, for the first time, hesitated. A long moment of chewing lips passed before she shook her head.
'The latter. I couldn't be happier for her. I just….'
Durka kept her gaze on Kala this time, though her eyes struggled to meet the white spheres.
'What was the point? I accepted it pretty early on. Gula? She fought it. Tortured herself endlessly over what we had to do. Why'd she have to go through all that pain? Why'd I put her through it? We suffer from arrows and swords to win the fight, take territory and such. But I can't see any point to what I inflicted on her.'
Feeling the proper moment to cut in, the small Kelton woman reached across the table and covered Durka's right hand with a soft palm.
'Because that's what you had to do. Which is what you're mother had to do. You didn't have an ultimate mage drop out of nowhere and lead you on a grand journey to fix everything. Fate gave you the same cards it gave everyone else in your community. And oftentimes, we play those cards the same way everyone else does because that's the best way they're played.
Gula drew something special. Something no one could expect you two to deal with. If you were setting her up to marry a mage who would be friendly towards Orcs, no one would have called you a good mother for feeding her such delusions.'
Durka sat still for a moment, the only sign of life being a rub of her left hand on the other arm's leather sleeve. Then a small smile broke out over her face. It was a better sight than the borderline tears, yet the upper edges didn't reach the eyes, lending a more somber look than a joyful one.
'That little girl wasn't relying on the community to protect her. We…. You're right. We need to have a talk about how I raised her.' The Orc affirmed with a nod as Kala withdrew.
'Is it only her well-being that needs to be discussed? This is all because Gula almost had to live that life. You actually went through it.' Kala prodded further, her white eyes looking up and down the Orc's frame.
'Pff,' Durka huffed, her smile turning a bit more genuine. 'I'm fine.'
A raised eyebrow from the Kelton woman made Durka sit up a bit straighter, her shoulders now more relaxed. The puckering of green lips emphasized how she clasped her hands together.
'I always let the men go once we were finished. It was after a battle so it was playing with me or a sword to the neck. Even so…. I can't say there weren't a few who said no and I was too concerned with getting that baby to care. Took almost as much fuss as fighting them, those ones.
All that's in the past, though. Right now, fixing things with my daughter is what matters.'
Kala nodded as the hair on the back of her neck stood straight. There was something unnerving about how casual Durka was with her previous actions. Some mix of denial or rebuffing the accusation would surely be better than bold acceptance.
At least for Kala, it would be.
What complicated things was the fact that Durka was a fellow woman. A father-in-law making such confessions would be shown the door and never allowed around her daughter or grandchildren but since the person making it was female…. The conflict of fact and societal convention that erupted every time they talked made Kala's stomach clench.
She wouldn't even say Durka was a bad person. But was that because the crimes being admitted to were dulled due to the gender of their perpetrator or because there was goodness despite them? The old Kelton woman couldn't properly say and that doubt of her own judgment made her grind her teeth every time it was brought up.
Kala put out a hand on the big green mesh of fingers.
'The sooner the better,' She said with a small smile.
Brown braids swayed in the warm base air as Durka nodded.
'I kept putting it off because she was so busy, but you were right from the start. It needs to happen. This trip. I'll make sure we get at least an hour to privately talk.'
If the discomfort in the brown haired Kelton woman was noticed by anyone, Durka wasn't one of them. The muscular green woman got up with a wipe of her black pants and a small smile now made genuine.
"Want to come up to the ship?" Durka asked audibly.
A simple head shake was all Kala returned. Despite the scant skill she had in maneuvering them, it felt like she had already spent too long on such vessels. Her feet called for the warm and sturdy floor of the base and that is what they were going to get.
The Orc departed with slaps of leather boots on stone, leaving her conversation companion to finish her meal in peace. It took a few more minutes before the last bit of the favored liquid was drained from the bowl. The warmth from the soup blended with the golden glow of the mana lamps to seep into her bones.
"Lady Kala."
A turn to the right gave her a clear view of the wide hole in the wall between the kitchen and dining area, though it was a green woman with a white bandanna standing in the middle of it who drew her attention.
"Can we put the soup away?"
She nodded, which the Orc obliged with a turn back into the kitchen. Cooking had been in the old Kelton woman's veins since her earliest days. Washing the knives, pots, and pans afterward hadn't taken quite as keenly. There had been some guilt about letting others clean up but the base took its due from her in other ways, so she took her dishes to the kitchen and went back to the dining area before going out the double iron doors along the right wall.
The hallway of grey stone was lit up in the same golden glow, but she paid it no mind. The left had a single iron door which held a ladder to the frozen rocks outside while the right lead towards the doors of the meeting room. Straight ahead lay the dual iron doors of the housing area, which she moved towards before giving a good tug on the right one.
It took a few seconds for the metal to yield with an outward swing but eventually a crack large enough for her to slip through presented itself with the low rumble of a crowd. A single step through brought her into a huge room reaching a good nine or so floors high with enough space for two carts to pass through the middle yet it still seemed too small for the inhabitants ambling about the bottom floor and various walkways and balconies on the right and left. Somewhere at the end were more doors along the opposite walls leading into the magic farms. Most of the Keltons and Orcs present, however, were trying to get to their respective rooms from the unseen double doors at the end of the right side wall which lead from the furnaces directly to the hangar for the airships.
Some moved into the housing section through the doors on the right. Most of those were green women with their human mates. Being the latecomers, they had mostly been moved to the newest sections. Shifting rotations on the airships had seen some mixing with the Waveborn and Keltons but the two domains were largely separate.
A few went into the showers along the first floor though most were going through the iron doors leading into the rooms with flared noses and a groping palm on a lovers body. Long weeks alone would be seen to and left unheard thanks to sound-deadening enchantments that had been worked into special crafts by the doors. Of course, none were so eager that they pushed against the quad mage's mother-in-law passing by. This pattern of respectful distance continued as she went through one of the lower floor bathrooms and saw to the needed items before bed. Coming out, a couple pulled away from the door with a bow as she moved to the right.
Being a renowned member of the community was new to her. The constant feeling of eyes wherever she went and people who were semi-familiar with her life despite never having said so much as hello weren't considered positives by the elder goat woman but hiding was impossible here and the story behind this place's existence necessitated the telling of her daughters. As she maneuvered around the reuniting families and the occasional group of children playing, it was the memories of walking down more sunlit streets that called the loudest. The notion that during all those times she stopped to look at a chief or one of their well-dressed wives they had felt her gaze was a bit too strong to ignore. It didn't slow her down as she went up the wooden staircase along the wall to the second floor. An iron door right by the stairs with a wooden number one on it was hers, a privilege granted to her as both mother to Salamede and the right of those who had first braved sky and snow to make this place.
Pushing open the door was a fair bit easier than the one leading into the main area and Kala soon found herself in a simple room with a desk on the left, a dresser on the right, and a bed with blue blankets directly ahead. It was simple, especially for a close member of the chief's family.
As she walked up and snuck between cold sheets, there wasn't any feeling of poverty to be found. A lifetime of wool-stuffed mattresses had left her unaware of just how good a night of sleep on a firm bed would be. Something she took full advantage of.
The next morning Kala got up, retrieved a new pair of clothes, and set about her day in a semi-typical fashion. Fetching a small basket with the number one on its side from beside the door, she took that and her new green dress from the dresser before setting off for one of the showers on the bottom floor. Once finished, she set the basket outside the steaming room to be collected by a cleaner who would bring it and its contents back to the room matching its number. With that, she headed back towards the canteen. This time as a recipient of the kitchen rather than its provider.
Fish stew was strictly an afternoon affair, so Kala enjoyed a meal of seared shrimp for breakfast. She finished it with a swig of tomato juice and gave the women in the kitchen a goodbye wave. A passing human man opened the iron doors for her, which she paid back with a smile. This time, she took a right down the hallway. At the end of the stone shaft dotted with mana lamps was a pair of double iron doors. This was now guarded by a pair of steel-plated guards who let her through without fuss.
Inside was more or less the center of all decision-making in the base. At the center of the wide, circular room was a rather grand looking table done up with fish carved around the sides and a white top streaked with gold. Holding the piece up was a stone support depicting waves cresting ever upward. On the table's sides were chairs of magically grown wood sporting equally decorative carvings of leaves and deer beneath red cushions of crafted plant fibers. Combined with a silky carpet of white beneath it and jutting columns on the sides, the place looked almost posh with the mana lamps on the walls giving everything a gold tint.
But it wasn't extreme riches, distinguished service, or grand displays of power that were behind the decision to raise the station of the room. No, the craftsmen who made these gaudy things would no doubt be slowly adding such luxury to every inch of the base. For now, the walls leading into here had been spared the worker's artistry but Kala knew sooner or later all the stone would be covered in fine carvings, and every chair in this place would be fit for a king to stave off the boredom of the masons and carpenters.
Save those in Eli's chambers. The door on the right had been left untouched as, no matter how bored, none were so bold as to touch the chief's domain. At least, not without without Kala's permission. That authority was also what brought her here.
She immediately took up the closest chair and waited. The first arrival walked through the door behind Kala. She was a black-furred Kelton woman with a thick leather apron and a grey dress. Senta was a no-nonsense woman who had been made the overseer of the crops by Eli's own direction.
Her sharp chin moved with her puckering lips above several pages. Taking up the seat on the left side of the table, she gave Kala only a small nod before returning to her paper. The gesture was unencumbered by the horns typical of Keltons, as hers were too small to peak out of the fur or fate had taken them from her. There had been whispers that she was to be Eli's next wife due to the speed of her promotion and their similarly focused nature. A notion that Kala might have entertained if the same gossip mongers weren't so convinced that more than half of the swollen bellies throughout the base held silver-maned pups.
In almost the same instant the opposite door leading into the hangar opened to reveal an older Orc with braids of black and grey hair. Mula was sporting plain brown pants with a white shirt. While a woman, she wasn't taken to wearing the same attire as the rest of her gender. A simple white bandanna was affixed above her golden eyes, drenched in sweat glistening around aged wrinkles and a sharp chin. Symptoms of working the forge and her presence away from them didn't seem appreciated as she simply nodded to the others before taking a seat opposite of Kala.
The last member was a burly Kelton man sporting brown fur that thickened over a stubby chin. Ivory horns stuck straight out of a steel helmet and swayed as Illion walked with as much grace as his steel chest plate over a grey shirt and equally unyielding arm guards would allow. A small sideways head bob was all he gave those assembled at the gaudy table before taking up the seat by Kala's right. These last two were selected from among the Waveborn and the Kelton wanderers while the others merited attendance based on relations with Eli. More in spite of Kala's irritation than because of it. Mul coughed into her fist before speaking.
"This weekly meeting is now in session. Any news to report as far as the change of guards on the airship?" The Orc said with a pointed look towards Illion.
"Typical thing," Illion stated in a rough voice. "Aside from tearful goodbyes and hello's, there was a drunken fight. Those who started it will be put on ice-picking duty to help cool their tempers. If none object."
Three pairs of eyes looked towards the small Kelton woman. Kala gave them a small nod, which they all accepted.
For the next half-hour, this pattern repeated. A few of the armor pieces came out wrong and needed re-smithing? Well, the farmer's widow said yes so let's do it. New plans for setting up waste baskets alongside the canteen doors? Kala's nod made it so.
Despite how cool-headed and even Senta was, the old Kelton woman suspected she wasn't any more eager to act without her approval than the others. Everyone was terrified of doing something that might rouse the quad mage's ire to any and all degrees. A relic of times spent among the clans for the Keltons and the sheer awe inspired by a legendary man. Kala might have put such angst down to not wanting to damage this paradise if they didn't insist on her approving every decision, no matter how uninformed her opinion was.
Had there been any work for her to do, she'd be furious at wasting time in these meetings. But any labors to do were beyond her short stature and skills save the occasional patch on a shirt. So, she accepted these annoyances as her toil for the base.
The suggestion that royal families sprang from no one wanting to draw the ire of the chief and instead going through family members he couldn't be upset at also provided an interesting nugget of thought.
There were few items to approve, thankfully. Most of the meeting was spent going over figures and storage limits, hence the bits of food storage hidden outside. It was only at the end that Mul turned her wrinkly head to Kala and coughed.
"Have you reached a decision for that other item?" She asked with a nervous puckering of lips.
For the first time, Kala mentally prepared for a long explanation of her decision.
"Yes, I have. Eli truly sees your people as humans with extra features. As he does us. His vision, from what I've gathered, is a supplanting of magic as the major force in society, not its elimination. The suggestion will also help more evenly portion the labor between him and the rest of us. Later tomorrow we can get together and work on a properly worded letter to ask him."
Mul gave the widest smile Kala had even seen on any Orc's face. The wrinkles spiderwebbed out across the green skin, aggravated further when the Waveborn woman shot up out of her chair.
"I'll have Ugak and Hursa draw up a draft immediately."
With that, the old Orc turned around and sprinted out of the door behind her leading into the hangar.
Any objection to the unceremonious ending was left unheard. Because none were given and the spirit connections forming around Kala's shoulders wouldn't spill their words into the air. Sure enough, the two other Keltons were looking at her with somber stares.
'And how would he react to such a proposition? Magical humans breeding with Orcs is…. A big step.' Senta's now soft and feminine voice asked in Kala's mind. The improvement in vocal quality didn't hide the note of trepidation therein.
'Probably not in the way you'd want,' Kala replied with a small shrug before sitting a bit more straight, 'I can't see how he could refuse allowing the human men access to magical resources. This is supposed to be a joint community and we've made magical Keltons. And, lest we forget, the most powerful mage to ever exist is currently bedding an Orc himself.'
'The chief isn't the Waveborn,' Illion put in with a raised finger, 'The man who made all these wonders has an Orc wife. I put my life in his hands when I stepped onto that wooden airship on the icy wastes. Do the Waveborn have the ability to forge such wonders? Have they survived eons and wrested survival from the mouth of a dragon as he did from the Coalition? None would dare question his judgment, but I would theirs.'
Before Kala could speak, Senta spoke up again with a lean back into her chair.
'They are good people, without a doubt,' Senta put in with a genuine compliment. 'We can't say that about the ones who haven't been conceived. If some of the Orcs produce malicious fruit, our Kelton children won't be anywhere near as powerful. Going down this path will leave our kind far weaker. At least, in comparison.'
The older Kelton woman closed her eyes. A single deep breath was taken before she opened them and looked between the two worried-looking companions.
'This path was already agreed upon. Unless you think Eli's affection for Gula was some elaborate ploy.' Kala stated with a purposeful meeting of their white eyes.
'It was agreed on,' Illion put in with a lean onto the table and a bit lip, 'But now it's actually happening. Once this chest is opened, it will stay open. Forever. Even the quad mage may not be able to get the lid sealed after a single generation.'
A raised eyebrow was her first reply.
'By 'sealing the lid' you mean killing all the children, correct?'
Illion bit his lip to near white. Senta audibly coughed before leaning onto the in a near mirror image to the man across from her.
'What we're saying is that this was part of the plan. At some point. Doing it so soon was not an apparent aspect of said plan. If we had more science wonders to perhaps countermand such an explosive growth in magical ability, that would be more soothing to those with certain concerns.'
'More?' Kala demanded with a raised eyebrow, 'Maybe we'll lasso the moon next to show the chief knows what he's talking about.'
Both had the manners to look away before she spoke again.
'Unless you've forgotten, we already have the answer to these concerns.'
The blank stares they were giving the older Kelton woman almost made a sigh come up her throat.
'The magic tools and weapons? The ones we've clearly demonstrated work under spells.'
A furtive look passed between the two before Senta spoke.
'These crafts are as good as magic from a mage? And what would spells have to do with crafts?'
Kala almost made a mental sentence to explain before the absurdity caught up with her. When did a poor farmer's daughter become versed in magical affairs enough to lecture others? She had passively learned most of what a graduate of Diamond academy knew, yet to teach others the ways of those grand, mysterious people made her incredulous. The moment passed with a straightening of the green dress but the shift in her sense of self would probably linger. That and the need to do a through review of what everyone did and didn't know about the workings of their tools.
'I'm not going to give a thorough explanation half a dozen times, so gather people who don't know about spells shutting down crafts and I'll give a little lecture.'
'Spells kill our tools?' Illion asked with a sour puckering of his lips, 'But I thought ours still worked under assault from a mage.'
'They do. It-'
Kala took a deep breath before continuing.
'I'm saying all of this once. To a large group. I know all the schedules have been set for today so find the time to gather them all early tomorrow morning in the dining hall and you'll have the answer. I'll work in an unspoken explanation of why they mean we don't need to fear mages as much.'
The two Keltons seemed pacified as they leaned back into their chairs. Not satisfied, but their concerns had been blunted. With the unspoken conversation finished, they left towards the hangar while Kala went towards the kitchen to resume one of the few labors she could actually help with.
A day passed in small chores until a late afternoon meal of shrimp in a garlic sauce was forged and fed to the starving masses. The night passed in the same motions it had every other night. The only break from the usual routine was an early rise by Kala in preparation for the coming speech. A shower was rushed through and a brown dress foisted on with haste.
As a self-reward for waking up so early, the old Kelton woman gave herself a sumptuous breakfast consisting of a bowl of fish stew with mild ale enjoyed at the table by the canteen doors. Despite being reheated from its time freezing outside, the meal was perfect with a small bit of the new ale and would have stayed as such if a few armored Keltons hadn't come in. They made an immediate turn towards the kitchen doors, not the window to order food.
Most of the guards still wore their armor whenever they could despite the lack of need. She put it down to their inner boys finally getting to wield the proper swords and shining plates dreamed of in their formative years. None moved in a harried sprint, however. Kala got up to see what the fuss was about but by the time her feet felt stone floor the Kelton men had already come back bearing sacks of what looked like hard bread. There was a temptation to ask the kitchen staff but the second opening of the canteen produced a level of chatter far louder than normal.
Following behind the men, Kala stumbled onto people running back and forth in an excitement unbecoming of the sleepy base. Not panicked, though the few harried women trying to corral the pups were close to it. As a few squads of steel-plated Keltons walked past to the meeting room, the old Kelton woman followed. She tagged behind until they got into the gaudy space where the stomping of metal on stone got a slight echo.
Kala could see her destination off to the right of the table. Illion was moving his head back and forth in a spirit conversation with another armored Kelton who walked off just before the elder woman arrived.
'What is this?' She demanded in a spirit connection.
He moved around to face her. A bit of sweat glistened on his open palms and the snout below a steel helmet flared with a sideways head bob.
'The magic city….I don't remember its name. Whatever its called, its had a bulging of refugees it can't handle. We've been called to help.'
A grim frown stole over Kala's face. Salamede would have never called for such aid unless the situation was truly dire. The faint stab of worry quickly dulled to a mere splinter of concern. Her daughter was a mage and surrounded by others of almost equal power. A complete lack of concern wasn't possible but Kala was able to cull it enough to mostly ignore it.
She gave him a sideways head bob before turning around to leave the meeting area. Her return to the canteen took a few sidesteps around a pack of guards or group of onlookers but she was soon back in her seat by the beloved fish stew. It hadn't lost its heat and was a nice companion to her thoughts. As the elder Kelton woman wrangled together the needed bits for the coming discussion, the crowd of participants trickled in. Unusually, none gathered any food or drink. This was an unusual time, however, even before the crisis abroad.
Masses of Keltons and Orcs, with their human husbands, came in with the former on the right side of the room while the latter took up the left. The two groups never mingled like siblings but such a clean segregation had left after a week of the Waveborn's arrival. Its return told of a bitter conversation coming.
Her short stature made it difficult to say just how much of the remaining base's residence were here. Mul stood at the head of the tables holding her kind while the Keltons around Kala looked at her with some expectation. Probably one of support.
Doing so was a transparently awful idea if she wanted to soothe both groups. A minute of looking around for Senta to fill the role of Kelton ambassador ended when the doors to the canteen burst open with a thunderous slam. In it stood a human man with a white shirt and brown pants that matched his beard and mustache. Most of which was stained with red streaks. The gash along the left side of his head left no doubt as to the splotch's nature.
"They're taking off in the airship!" He screamed to those assembled.
A few men reacted instantly, rushing towards the man or past him. Kala ran to the left wall as those without lightning reflexes started moving towards the door. She was all too aware of her physical stature and the subsequent stomping she'd get if she was still in the middle when the stampede took off at a full sprint.
It would have been mayhem if the few guards remaining didn't corral the crowd. Two rushed ahead of the rest while three stayed behind to keep the packed mass of men from crushing each other at the exit. The women, Kelton and Orc, mostly stayed at their seats to soothe a pup or furiously whisper among themselves.
As important as Kala was to the base, she didn't have her magical crafts at hand and barely had the strength to swing a sword, much less put it in an opponent. Whatever the outcome in the hangar, her presence would only hinder those that could fight. She was, however, the mother of the chief's wife and surely expected to do something. That purpose was found in Mul, who was talking among the other Orcs to her right.
It took Kala getting barely six feet from their table for the older Orc to turn to her. Deep lines of age further emphasized the frown on Mul's face. Not that the heaving chest shifting black and gray braids needed help displaying the panic gripping the woman.
"Ugak!" She sputtered out. "Hursa is looking for her and a number of others but they aren't here."
A quick look around the tables showed a few of the green women doing headcounts. Most stared at the tables while some rubbed the head of a babe. Who would want to take an airship and why was beginning to seep in for the Orcs and their husbands. Some of those caught between child and woman were conducting spirit conversations with friends or their parents and making no attempts to hide it with their harried movements. Kala slowly turned back to Mula who looked somewhere close to either crying or screaming in fury.
"That fellow said they were taking an airship. Has the Cloud Strider come back already?" The elder Kelton woman's voice rang out over the furtive whispers.
"It's the new ship," A male voice called from behind. Everyone turned to see the man who had set off the stampede approaching Kala. Whoever had tended to him underestimated the effectiveness of the healing crafts as the wooden disk he was holding up to his head mended most of the gash on his skull, rendering the white cloth wrapped around most of the wound pointless.
"The thing's been ready for a while," The man continued with heaving breaths as he stood before the brown-furred Kelton woman almost half his size. "Urzul, my wife, was brought in but she didn't go along at the end. She…. I-'
Kala put a hand out for him to stop.
"Take a second." Her rough voice instructed.
It took a few seconds for the man's gulping breaths to subside into a mere sprint heaves, which was apparently good enough for him.
"Ugak and the others planned on taking the new ship. To do that, they waited until another came in for resupply then used them as an excuse for needing the Cloud Strider to leave with most of the guards."
"And how did they manage to do that?!" Mul demanded with bared teeth clenched in a way that suggested their impenitent use on someone. Stuck choosing between despair or fury, the clenching of her fists made it clear which track she took.
"Radio parts. They've been pilfering bits and pieces-"
Any further noise from him, or anyone else in the canteen, was cut short by a sharp thud. It was so loud even the rooms and iron doors between them and the hangar barely dulled its assault on their collective eardrums. The following groan of wood evaporated whatever interest people had in the man's explanation. A dozen women gamely got up from their seats and walked towards the iron doors, this time with Kala following up from behind.
Coming out into the hallway, nothing could be seen or heard. If not for the last few minutes, it would have passed for any other day. Taking a right, the mix of Kelton women and Orcs crept forward. There weren't too many people in front of her, so when the door to the meeting chamber slammed open, Kala had enough space to get an extra step back and avoid getting trampled by the group's lurch away from the potential danger.
Any worry was put to rest when the metal chest in the doorway revealed a black-furred Kelton head above it.
"We need help with the wounded!" His rough voice called out.
A few surged forward with the rest taking a second or two before moving. Kala came in behind the last few women into the now crowded meeting room. There were Kelton men moving in and out of the door to the site of the battle. What wasn't coming out of the door was the smell of blood mixing with the omnipresent aroma of salt.
Morbid curiosity drove Kala on past the gaudy table of white stone and towards the door. Only when a brief respite in the traffic arrived did she dare venture into the hangar proper. On both immediate sides were shelves holding various wooden bits for the innumerable crafts needed to keep this place going. In the middle of this workshop section were two long wooden tables where these magic creations would be put to purpose. Purpose that would now mostly be centered on getting them all sorted and their boards of instructions back together as wooden crafts and bits of metal were strewn around the floor.
Ahead was the source of their disorder.
On the left side of a flat plain of stone laid the wooden hull of the base's greatest creation, lying on its side like a wounded beast. Standing around the size of a two-or-three story mansion, the size made the blade-like shape all the more impressive, though its tubes along the sides for thrusters hampered the comparison. Any beauty or awe for the airship would be undone both by its sideways plop onto the stone floor and the burning mass of steel and cloth above it that had previously been its balloon hanging on top of it.
The dome ceiling with its dotted mana lamps bathed the wounded giant in gold light. Faint streaks of black wafted up despite the water shooting out of the water crafts held by Kelton and, Kala made sure to note, Orc workers on the sides.
Various chairs and tables were strewn around the large double doors on the left showing the attempt to bar access from the forge. Only a faint scent of blood hung in the air. Aside from thundering footsteps and the moans of a few people off to the sides on hampers, it was oddly quiet for the sight of a battlefield.
A look around revealed the main point of interest. Off to the right of the fallen airship were Orcs. About a dozen with varying attire from pants and shirts to dresses. Their most important aspect was being on their knees with ropes tied around their backs. If that wasn't enough, the three agitated guards around the front of their group marked them.
The individuals couldn't be made out from Kala's distance from them. Something she moved to remedy with a walk towards them. Demons rage boiled in her gut, raising the fur on her neck and hopefully adding strength to the kick she intended to deliver.
None got in her way, either too stunned to move on her path or too afraid to stop her at this fragile moment. When she came close enough to start making out the faces, a figure crept out of the ship's backside. An Orc with brown, shoulder-length hair that matched her dress. The slight glint of a metal blade in her hand, combined with the guards currently looking at the prisoners or the front of the ship, made it obvious what her intentions were as she moved up to the group of prisoners. Kala opened her mouth to warn the Kelton guards.
"Behind you!" A female voice yelled from behind.
The steel-clad men took a precious moment to look at the source of the scream instead of its destination. That was all the sneaking Orc needed. Her dash towards the unsuspecting men was a clear path. Which made her swerve into the kneeling mass of green women all the more confusing. As the elder Kelton woman moved to the side to allow larger people to run past, Kala wondered how she intended to free enough of them to make a difference.
The answer came when she put the dagger through the first prisoner's throat she could reach.
"My Aza!" She screamed with tears falling down her red eyes. Her victim fell to the ground into a growing puddle of blood before the feral woman drove her blade into another's eye socket. "You killed her!"
That was the last one she could claim before the guards seized her arms.
"My Baby!" She wailed with a pain that was somehow sharper than the woman's whose eye had just been skewered.
Chill ran through Kala's veins, driving away any anger still lingering. What was she doing here? Feeling a foolishness that was supposed to have left decades ago, she took one last look at the scene near the prisoners. The still screaming woman was forced to the ground with a small clank announcing the release of her weapon. Some of those accompanying Kala spread out to see to one task or another. Most stood dumbfounded at the sight even as a small Kelton woman moved past them into the meeting room.
Passions cooled with the last bits of smoke wafting away from the airship. Kala idled away at the gaudy table, content to let Senta and Mul oversee things with the few remaining guards. Time flowed in bursts as it always did in times of crisis, leaving the Ocean Striders return both too soon and tardy. Illion came through the iron door leading from the hangar donned in a nearly full suit of armor with only his shoes showing. Bits of water still trickled down from the steel helmet to land on brown fur as the harried-looking man took a step inside. His head shook some of the residual snow off, barely masking the shakes of trepidation.
"What happened?" He asked with a warry look around.
The usually thick protection of self-control Kala shielded herself in buckled.
"Of all the people here, I probably know the least. We need to have all the facts, witnesses interviewed, and questions answered before taking any action. Being the captain of the guard, wouldn't such an investigation fall under you? Or is this another thing I'll have to approve before you act on plain sense?" She spat out with bared teeth.
Illion's puckered lips told of a stinging reply wanting to roam free. He reigned it in before giving a sideways head bob and turning back out the door. Kala likewise bit her lips as a finger traced the waves molded into the tabletop. Aggravation stewed within. Not letting it get a hold of her was something she always prided herself on and now she had. That failure only further irritated her. That and foul memories threatening to stir from their cages left the finger making hard scrapes across the rock artwork.
Senta came back first, claiming her usual seat on the left with a plop that sent her dirty green dress flapping. That cool temperament the head of the farm was famous for held true despite recent events with a single sideways nod being the only courtesy given before she stared into the stone table. It took a few more minutes before the other two members arrived.
Mula had frayed bits of black and grey in her braids, which her white shirt and brown pants did nothing to hide. The steel-clad Illion came in behind her with a breathless heave of his chest. Neither spoke, merely taking up their usual spots with the Orc opposite Kala and the head guard on the right.
"Was it as we all suspected?" The short elder Kelton woman asked with a pointed look between the two. Surprisingly, it was the green woman who spoke up.
"Mostly," She offered with a weak cough into a wrinkled fist. "They've been pilfering radio parts. Made a whole one out of the stolen bits. When the next ship came in they used it to trick the guards into leaving. Since we've started placing crude locks on the forge area, they decided to make their getaway during the morning meal. It goes without saying the ship we've spent what seems like an eternity getting to work was fully capable all along. Or at least good enough to make it to the Cradle."
Senta nodded.
"A predictable journey for a surprising event. What are the recovery figures for the material-"
"They're still alive." Illion cut in with a lean onto the table.
Hair raised along the back of Kala's neck. Even Senta's cool grace faltered as a grim frown stole over her face with a lean forward.
"What?!" Kala demanded.
Illion, instead of defending the position, looked towards Mul. She was looking straight down, the golden lights above leaving a shadow over her face. After a second the elder Orc finally looked upward.
"We….Our ship was our world. Out there on the seas, family is found in the holds. Whatever they've done, they're still our mothers, sisters, and daughters. Killing them…."
Senta sat up in her chair so suddenly that she nearly sent it to the floor.
"They would have gotten us all killed, either by an invasion of Orcs seeking magic ability or a squad of humans who managed to hear what they were delivering. That didn't stop them so why should we hesitate?"
Mul furrowed her eyebrows as she opened her mouth. Illion decided to cut in between the two women with rough words of his own.
"We need to make a decision." He announced to the room, turning all eyes to him. "The pilot said Salamede will be coming soon."
"How soon?" Kala asked with a strum of fingers on the table.
"He can't say," Illion offered with a shrug. "With several people yelling at him and the panic of turning the ship around, he can't recall precisely when Salamede said she'll be coming back or if she even said when but he clearly remembers that she is coming here."
Senta huffed.
"We can't have the chief's wife coming back to traitors still breathing-"
"They're not just traitors! Mothers and daughters-"
Kala put up her right hand with a finger pointing towards the door to Eli's chambers, which the others looked at. This conversation was too explosive to allow some prying ear purchase. The group gave an unspoken agreement and followed her as she opened the door.
It was a bare hallway of stone, untouched by the mason's idle hands as none dared to go through. A mana lamp on the right was touched by Illion as the other two women walked by, bathing the rock in golden light which was needed with Kala's closing of the door. The elder Kelton woman now stood at the only exit, affirming her status as the superior as a dejected-looking Mul leaned against the right wall. The two other Keltons stood in seeming opposition on the left. Whatever the two sides were looking at, they both turned at their betters cough.
"When I was appointed to help the council, the advisors, or whatever this group is, I did it with the knowledge that you wanted someone who could talk to Eli if a decision was made he didn't approve of. A drain for his anger should the worst come to pass."
None shamed themselves by denying it, instead, they each sheepishly looked away before she resumed.
"And as the mother of his wife, I say that they cannot be left alive."
Mul looked at her with golden eyes shimmering with tears.
"This isn't a clean cut between families. There are daughters whose mothers are innocent. Mothers who will be leaving their babes to be orphaned."
Senta huffed, drawing a scowl from the Orc.
"They should have thought of that before trying to kill all of us."
"Mul," Kala said in as accommodating a tone as she could manage. The Orc still held Senta's gaze but her ears still seemed receptive. "They cannot be alive, for the sake of the Waveborn. If my daughter gets here and they're still around, Eli will not look kindly on that when he arrives. It will also prompt questions, questions that could undo the goodwill created by so many of the Orcs who met the crisis head-on."
Illion nodded before adding his bit.
"An Orc who joined the traitors was actually there to make sure it failed. We can't say for certain if that made the difference or one of the Kelton men getting a fire-spraying weapon on the balloon section."
He gave Mul a quick glance before looking between the other women.
"I agree that they can't live. I also think doing it isn't the clean thing you two seem to think. Killing the family members of the Waveborn, no matter how justified, will have consequences. There will always be a few who let a grudge take hold. Probably ending with a knife in one of my men. We're probably going to start years of reprisals and killings."
Kala couldn't disagree. The thought of being trapped in a giant cave with the person who killed your family was the stuff of nightmares. That didn't change what needed to be done but a look at Senta showed she wasn't convinced. Her lips were crushed between teeth while bobbing her head back and forth.
The four were left to ponder the situation in their respective mental corners. After a minute of thinking over the pit they had been launched into, sweat started gathering around foreheads and Mul paced in a small circle. Kala started working out how to say the risk was worth it when Senta's head shot up.
"The mother." She stated to the group. All turned to her with raised eyebrows yet she only returned Kala's gaze. "That one who knifed the traitors after they were captured. I don't think she'd mind doing the dirty work."
Illion nodded while opening his mouth. Kala was too busy fighting down bile to speak first.
"Poor Uzul. Her girl, barely old enough to walk, was caught under the ship when it crashed. I…. It's best we keep this to as few people as possible. She's been stalking around the room we're keeping them in. Arranging the right mistakes to give her an opportunity would be easy." He offered the group.
As the elder Kelton woman was pondering over a hideous past, the other two Keltons turned to Mul. Lines from a deep frown formed along the old Orc's face. Despite that, no immediate objection came. Golden eyes showed the mind churning beyond until a defeated sigh escaped her lips.
"Uzul might have to be put in the more Kelton areas for a while and serve some hard labor but…. Going after a grieving mother for avenging her babe isn't something that stirs hearts. A few might carry some ill-will but voicing such things will get little sympathy."
As they had so many times before, the three turned to Kala in expectation.
"Really?" She demanded with furrowed brown eyebrows. "We're…. A grieving mother? The light of her life just got snuffed and we're got to turn her loose like a feral animal."
Now on the receiving end of the objections, Kala's nose flared and lips turned white between her teeth. A queasiness dropped into her stomach despite the absence of an enemy or death. Every objection coming up was pure emotion mired in a horrid past. Her earlier words, spoken with such certainty and authority, had the inconvenient aspect of still being true. Seconds passed before a single word was forced past the disgust.
"Fine"
Nothing else came. No words, audible or in spirit connections, were given. The other three simply nodded in return before shuffling past.
Kala stood there in the rock hallway as her stomach squeezed so hard it made the prospect of vomiting seem pleasant. Old hands grew clammy as a chill stole over her skin despite the warmth of the bases interior. Here in the empty hall of unfeeling stone, there was nothing to quell that wretched feeling. A pull towards her bedroom called but the distraction of stitch work was something for burning the remaining day's energy. Whatever she was going to do, it wasn't going to be in this choking tomb.
Her exit out of the hallway was so swift her slam from closing the door made Illion look back on his approach to the hangar door. Kala wasn't quite certain where she was going, but her small feet were taking her there as fast as they could. Going out the left side door, she moved down the stone hallway. It took some maneuvering around one group of guards or people moving goods before she took a left through the double iron doors leading into the kitchen.
The rest of the day passed in a blur centered around the kitchen. Breads were baked and fillets grilled with the help of Orc assistants who were all too eager to show how useful they were to the chief's mother-in-law. Kala worked hard and fast as she plied the most demanding recipes that the miracle kitchen could allow.
At some point in the flurry of work, some chatter about bodies and blood in the Orc section of housing floated in. The thick, dark roux being stirred in pots cared for none of it, and neither did the woman using it to outrun her mind. Compliments flowed freely from the dining area during lunch alongside whispers of anticipation for the evening meal. Most assumed the delicious pies and hearty stews to be a special labor of love from the kitchen for the base that had been subjected to so much. If any noticed the manic energy radiating off the woman behind their feast, none made such an observation public.
After serving dinner, Kala exited her stage and went back through the canteen doors. Across the hallway was the open entrance to the housing block with the iron slabs held open by wooden triangles. Inside was a crowd of people strolling about in greater numbers than they ever had before. At no point had anyone thought to start the day's regular work, leaving most to idle and gossip. Something the four leaders of the base should have prevented, but night had already come and such forgetfulness was apparently forgiven by those released from a day's labor.
Kala was given her typical room as she walked through the crowd, taking note of the four guards overlooking the entrance to the newest section before moving towards the stairs leading to her door. Getting up the stairs was equally easy despite the hard slaps of shoes on stone. The entrance to her room was quickly reached and she went through it with a tired sigh.
Once inside, looking at the bed made her realize how sore her feet were and the pain of the day's work became more acute. Instead of sliding into the white sheets, Kala went around the right of the bed and retrieved the basket stuffed with threads, a half-finished brown shirt, and several pairs of metal sewing needles. Placing the basket on the bed took a good swing but the small woman managed. Her right hand stretched out to take up the work when a thought struck her. Too profound to ignore yet there were probably some rules that would say no…. Well, she was the mother of the chief's wife. If she was going to have to attend boring meetings because of that, then it should come with privileges.
The basket was hoisted onto her left hip. It accompanied her out of the room and down the stairs. None paid her any mind besides a few sideways glances. Exhaustion and fear had pulled back curiosity, leaving Kala a straight shot past the bathrooms and on the left. A black-furred Kelton guard was the first to notice her approach. No question was given, only a sideways nod before letting her pass through the stone hallway.
Waves plastered the walls with various fish, turtles, and squids peeking out. At the end of the display was a big ship complete with a working crew before the sides of the doors took over. They gave way with a hearty shove. Directly ahead was a small open area complete with chairs, tables, and three sofa's for the leisure of passersby. On the left was a tall open space like the prior housing area bearing showers and bathrooms along the bottom and stairs to the lines of doors above.
Save three Orc families seeing to one item or another, neither side had any occupiers. Sleeping at a place where murder took place only hours before was not a popular notion. It would have probably stayed that way for a day or two if the residents had anywhere else to sleep. What repelled others drew Kala in like a moth to flame as she took the bend around into the housing section proper. The elder Kelton woman noted the queazy-looking Orcs going up and down the right-side stairs bearing buckets. A few red rags on the sides left no doubt as to what was being cleaned. Their trips ended or started at a room in the middle of the third floor on the right side. That tomb held no interest though the trio of guards on the first floor of the left-side rooms did.
Walking up the stairs along the left wall took some doing with the basket on her hip, but she was soon on the same floor as the guards. There were two humans and a Kelton, having simple steel chest plates, helmets, and clubs. A consideration of Illion, probably. This time, her approach was fully stopped by a brown-haired lad looking not a day past eighteen.
"Sorry, lady Kala. Murder has just taken place here. We're holding the culprit on the orders of the captain, though she is unarmed." He said with a puckered lip.
"And on the orders of the woman who bore the Quad mage's wife, I am to be allowed passage."
His brown eyes narrowed a bit. A quick look over her basket seemed to mollify him a hair. If he wanted to inspect the contents of the basket, the bravery to do so wasn't accompanying such a desire. All he gave was a simple nod before moving out of her way.
Feeling far more enamored with the ways of royal status, Kala pressed forward. Near the end of the hallway was a set of guards standing at attention near the front of a door only a stone toss away. When she came up to them, neither gave an objection, only opening the door to let her in.
The room was a bare thing of grey stone. In the back middle of the room was a bed with blue blankets, white sheets, and pillows. No dresser or desk was to be found, only a lonely looking chair off to the left. Sitting on the bed was the murderer or savior of the base depending on how things played out.
Her dress had been replaced with a grey one. The biggest change was her eyes, those red irises so furious in the hangar now looked doll-like as her shoulder-length brown hair turned towards the intruder. There was no quiver in her sharp chin nor did her soft cheeks shift from a frown or puckering lips. She was as dead as anything with a beating heart could be.
Kala silently walked up before placing the basket beside her. Thin Kelton hands fished out the sewing needles from the basket and handed them over. Whatever thoughts were going on in the Orc's skull, none of them were objections as she took the metal rods. The woman apparently had some proficiency in the craft as she got to work pushing and pulling string into something greater. Kala joined her by resuming work on a brown shirt.
Metal clacks bounced off the walls as the elder Kelton woman made the curves around one of the sleeves while the metallic symphony moved at a slower pace as a blue blanket was taking shape. It took a minute before the Orc spoke her first words.
"I've heard the saying 'time heals like magic'. Is that true?" She inquired with a small turn towards what could be her only companion in the world at this moment.
White eyes met red ones. A deep breath was taken into the small Kelton woman's chest before being released into the air along with a rough voice.
"Life continues on no matter what you want and you have to keep going. At a point, things adjust enough that you can continue going in spite of the wound. Some mistake that for healing."
A small nod was all she got before the Orc turned back down to her work. Kala resumed hers. After a few seconds, no other words came from the green woman. With nothing else to distract, memories came back as they always did and she embraced them, horror and all.
Pushing through the blowing wind of a late winter now running past its partner necrosis. Coming to a spot in a creak whose banks were covered with the white blanket. White mixing with splashes of blood. Any exhaustion from the long search vanished as she ran up to familiar grey pants and a brown shirt sticking out of the snow with the exposed bit of the one wearing them further beneath. No thoughts save the silent hope that the eyes were lying.
The pull on the neck portion of the covered shirt was fighting compacted ice and snow but desperation gave strength to thin arms. White fluff resisted for a second before the body pulled upward. A lifeless Kelton's head swung so close it almost hit her.
Sephrin.
Son of her beloved and the joy of the world, now laying upward with the stillness of death on the rock that had stolen him in a stumble. His usual laughter stifled by shriveled lips. The boy's brown fur, her brown fur, now flowed over skin so pale a casual look would suggest it had never known a drop of blood. Denial was given only a second to battle reason before a scream escaped her lips. It was feral with no low notes of sorrow or despair, just the long high pitch of pain as the life she had spent more than eight years nurturing washed away with the creaks current. Mercifully, nothing remained in her skull of what happened next or in the days after besides a few hugs from Ferris.
An hour passed by in remembering the life lost with her child alongside the sewing. Arguments with Ferris over who was responsible, how it happened, and what to do next. The latter was answered on its own. Neither of them could stand living in the tomb out on a flowery field. Packing up whatever belongings they had and leaving the countryside to stay among the humans in the nearest city followed the working of a stubborn stitch. Each word spoken, trek walked, and perusing of the local shops was relived with every swing of a needle. At the completion of the second sleeve, Kala got up, taking only her tools and the brown threads while leaving the rest to the other grieving mother.
"I will make sure you're given full meals and access to showers when you're ready to resume such things. I make no promises as to how things will fare as far as punishments or the other's opinions."
If the Orc cared about such things, the slight nod she gave without slowing her knitting didn't convey such a feeling. Kala turned around and left her to the mind-numbing work. As the small Kelton woman closed the door behind her, a quick glance said the green woman was still appropriately distracted. With a final heave, Kala pulled the door shut.
Coming back onto the walkway showed a lot more people ambling about to get ready for bed, though most were avoiding the housing section that held the murder site. A few still gamely ventured onto the stairs but most of its residents were going to be taking up whatever space was in the more Kelton area. Her destination was unchanged by the added traffic and she moved out of the housing section with an exhaustion that extended beyond the legs and back. The nightly ritual was typically done with an immediate laying down on the bed, yet she didn't regret the deviation from routine.
Her walk went unremarked by the guards on both her descent of the stairs and exit through the doors into the older housing section. Despite the increase of residents, most seemed content to leave this day behind as only a few Keltons, human men, and Orcs ambled about.
As Kala walked past the bathrooms and showers, a glint of steel further ahead caught her eye. At the furnace entrance were two more guards. A look backward confirmed the presence of two others by the exit across from the canteen. Their presence seemed to intrude on the peaceful nature of the base. Out of consideration for the morning's events, she would offer no objection. If Illion persisted past a night or two, then one would have to be given.
The trip up the stairs inflicted some pain, yet she continued until her thin arms were pulling open her door. The nearly finished needlework was gently placed on the desk to the left. With nothing else for her to give the day or for it to take from her, she snuggled between cold sheets with a final sigh into the pillow before black oblivion took her.
Morning came on its own terms. Kala woke up and immediately felt how late she had slept. None would dare reprimand her and for once, she forgave her own failing with a lazy rise from the bed. The morning shower came and went with equal laziness. As soon as she exited the steamy stone room in a green dress, her eyes perused the crowd to find several Keltons who hadn't been around since the adventures in the lands beyond started.
Realizing who had come, Kala took off to the left of the housing section. The double iron doors were open, as were the ones leading into the canteen. She sprinted around a few idlers towards the dining area until the hallway opened into the cavernous room of the canteen with long tables along the left and a few people ambling about or tending to a plate.
"Mom!"
The familiar rough voice came from further ahead. It took only a second for the short Kelton to see her beloved daughter standing at the back of the table near the far wall. Leather shoes slapped on the floor with Kala's strong walk forward. As she turned at the estimated table, her baby girl came into full view.
Black fur clashed with what memory said was supposed to be grey hair over those smooth cheekbones and below the sharp ivory horns. The fine white dress with fluffy white collar was also far outside what her daughter had ever worn but these small inconsistencies did nothing to hide the daughter beneath. Two metal clad Keltons stood beside her spot at the table but neither got in the way as the two came together in a hug.
'How was it?' Salamede asked in a spirit connection.
Kala took a moment to look her daughter up and down as they sat together at a table to the left.
'I didn't really do anything. Everyone else did the work bringing the ship down and wrangling the miscreants.'
An irritated twitch on Salamede's left ear waved around newly blackened fur but she managed to keep it off her face.
'A familiar thing these days. Spend more time telling other people to do things than working with my hands. Even with my magic, most of the job is just thinking and talking. Speaking of my magic, I'll be spending the remaining morning working a few limbs back into existence then heading out.'
Kala clenched her teeth just enough to keep the anger inside from being noticed. Being late to rise and missing work was one thing, missing time with her daughter was another. But who was she to be angry at? The guards never woke her up before and no complaint about the occasional sleep-in ever left her lips.
'You're satisfied with their reports?' Kala asked with her hand moving a strand of fur off her daughter's white dress.
'I am. More importantly, Eli will be as well.' Salamede put in with a smile at her mothers cleaning.
'Well then,' Kala put in with a rise from the table. 'I haven't gotten any breakfast. You?'
Salamede shook her head.
'My stomach was too clenched on the way here to let anything in and I hadn't even thought of it once I arrived.'
'Some biscuits and potatoes, then.'
Salamede nodded as she also stood up.
'Sounds great. Before I forget, I overheard some of the Orcs talking about magical foods for their husbands. None of the other…. Are you calling it the council?'
Kala only shrugged at the undecided name. Salamede nodded before continuing.
'Well, the other leaders here never brought it up but from how casually it was being discussed, I can't believe it hasn't come up before.' She finished with the question left unspoken.
As sure as the sun would rise, there was no way Mul would want to bring up the subject now. No Orc here would. Kala, however, wasn't an Orc or worried about her position.
'They've been pushing to allow us to grow magical foods for everyone, not just the human men.'
The healer scion stood still as lips were chewed with her inner thoughts.
'Are the others in agreement?' Salamede finally asked.
Kala shook her head.
'I think they've gotten a new appreciation for what the humans have been dealing with. Some of it is misunderstanding how regular magic and our crafts interact, which I will amend, but this isn't a step taken lightly.'
At the last word, Salamede started moving forward with Kala turning to move beside her.
'Gula would probably be hurt if we said no.' Her daughter continued with their casual walk between the tables. 'I'll say yes. Eli will almost certainly agree. Besides, it'll lighten the load on we who can use magic.'
'And is having a sister wife everything you thought it would be?' Kala asked with a smile that was reflected in Salamede's grin.
'It's like having a daughter and a sister. Oddly enough, it's dealings with our husbands that produce the most friction. Being a near decade younger and having such a difficult upbringing, there are a lot of little things I still need to correct her on when it comes to the bed and love. But there's some amusement to be found in such differences.
When we work together on issues outside of marriage, the footing is more equal. Our history and relationship are still present yet…. It's hard to put into words. We're more like good friends with me being the first wife a distant thing.'
'And the husband? How is his taming going?'
Salamede broke into a proper smile which preceded their exit out of the tables and a right turn into the open space towards the double iron doors.
'By the classic definition, it's completed. And I hate it.'
Kala raised an eyebrow but said nothing as they continued walking.
'He'll never say no. Which all the other women in Diamond city would say is a job well done. But that was more him being a great man than me molding him into what he should be. If anything, I have to keep him from doing too much. Which isn't really possible when he's the foundation of everything. I can't say I have any more experience than Gula when it comes to dealing with a husband who works too hard.'
A tired note permeated her voice at the last sentence.
'He's still a husband.' Kala put in. 'And you are a beautiful wife. I'm sure he'll consider the work worthwhile if you give him some sweetness.'
A small snort escaped her daughter's lips.
'I suppose the advice must be good if it keeps coming back to me.'
Kala got a small smile as they came up to the iron double doors. Salamede turned to her mother with another hug. As white fur enveloped her snout and the scent of wet fur pushed away the ever-present salt, Salamede spoke again in the spirit connection.
'Right now I'm going to focus on the work I can do. I'll be here for a few more hours mending arms and legs then it's back to playing queen.'
They pulled away with Kala nodding at the sad reality pulling mother and daughter apart.
'That's enough time for a proper meal.'
A final nod passed between them, with Salamede walking through the doors and Kala turning back towards the kitchen. Another round at the cooking pot was at hand. This time with her little one at hand and somewhere as safe as any place could be. Despite the work ahead, tension came out of the old Kelton woman's shoulders. Not that the women tending the kitchen noticed as Kala roused them for another round of labor.