The Naming, Part II

“Trouble.  Trouble!  Wake up!  What did you do!?”

Trouble whipped her head up, startled out of sleep and ready to defend herself, and immediately regretted it.  The room spun and she fell as quickly as she had risen.  It took another minute before she tentatively lifted her head again.  Her eyes focusing this time, she found herself staring at a rather irritated Malik.  It was somewhat  touching to see that the irritation was rapidly being replaced with guarded curiosity and perhaps a bit of concern.

“Malik,” she murmured, and reached forward, grabbing his arm to pull herself up.  She heard him take in a quick breath, surprised, but stood slowly so that her grip on his arm hauled her to her feet.

“What did you do, Trouble,” Malik repeated, still irritated but in a softer voice.

“I didn’t…” she began, but trailed off as she looked around.  She was standing in the center of a large scorch mark what would doubtless take a while to clean.  Her clothing had been reduced to crumbling bits of cloth and ash that were scattered about the room.  She could still smell brimstone, but it was faint, and opening a window would likely take care of it.  She opened her mouth to speak, though quite uncertain as to what she was going to say, but was saved further explanation for a moment by her knees buckling and the room beginning to swim again.

With a frustrated sigh, Malik took the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around Trouble.  After making sure she was quite concealed, Malik lead her to the door and stepped into the hall.  The innkeeper was waiting outside, fear and outrage warring in his expression.  Trouble looked up at him and felt her teeth drawing back.  She could smell his fear, and it was sickening.  It angered her, and begged her to attack.  She could feel her muscles tighten, and felt Malik’s arm clamp down on her as she readied to spring.  Without a word, Malik tossed a small purse at the innkeeper, and directed Trouble back to their room.  As greed replaced the fear smell, Trouble relaxed.  

Once the door to the room closed, Malik shoved Trouble non-too-gently in the direction of the bed.  She fell onto it, and groaned.

“I need food,” she said after a moment.  Malik looked to her surprised.

“You need food?  You hardly ever eat.  I thought you lived off the energy around you.”

“I need food.  Meat.  I need meat,” she pushed aside the heavy blanket, and looked up at the aggravated mercenary.  “Malik, please.”

Confusion and genuine concern passed into the mercenary’s expression as he truly looked at Trouble.  After a moment, he grunted something that had to be consent and left the room.  Shuddering, she fell against the bed and remained still.  She was weak, but meat would help.  It would help more coming from a higher life-form, but she doubted Malik or Miracle would sit by idly while she consumed the other customers of the tavern.

Closing her eyes, Trouble relaxed.  She could hear Miracle in the stairwell, soothing the innkeeper and assuring him that they would be on their way before long.  That actually surprised her a bit.  She had always had senses that would rival a humans, but usually through stone walls and down corridors was harder to discern.  Taking a deep breath, she just let herself listen.  There wasn’t much activity downstairs – while it was morning, it was rather late in the morning for this town, and most were at their various jobs.  She could hear snatches of conversation, and knew that there were some rumors about her being found in the next room, but they were unclear.  It sounded more like the two most popular theories were that she had either been attacked, or was an inept sorceress.  Either theory was safer than the truth.

She was brought back to herself at the heavy fall of Malik’s footsteps.  She lifted her head and watched him enter, dropping down a large package wrapped in butcher paper.

“It’s not cooked,” he growled, turning towards her.  “But I have the feeling you won’t care.”

Shaking her head, Trouble rose up out of the blanket and stumbled towards the package.  Malik caught her arm and steadied her, helping her to sit.  Another unexpected kindness.  Malik wasn’t a monster, though.  He had a heart.  He just didn’t suffer fools, and had little patience for the rest of the world.

Ripping open the paper, Trouble’s senses were overwhelmed by the smell of fresh meat.  She started to salivate as she picked up what looked to be the heart of a boar and bit into it.  Very fresh, killed just an hour ago.  She could taste the death, and the short life of the animal.  The heart disappeared in moments, and was followed by another one.  And a flank.  Also a liver, and a pair of kidneys.  Three quarters of the meat disappeared as Malik stared in wonder.  Finally, Trouble leaned back in the chair gasping, hands and face smeared with blood.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“I didn’t realize you knew those words,” Malik grumbled as he rose and rewrapped the remaining meat.  “I had been expecting more left over than that.  I’ll take this downstairs to the cook and go out for more.  We’ll be leaving shortly, thanks to your fiasco.  I managed to arrange for the inn to prepare supplies before we headed out.”

Nodding, Trouble rose and headed to the basin, feeling steadier now.  The door opened and closed behind her as Malik let himself out.  She hefted the clay pitcher and poured out a decent amount of water, plunging her stained hands into it and washing her face.  It was now that she began to really examine herself.

The first thing that came to her notice was that her arms were paler.  Significantly so.  White was a rather apt description.  Further inspection of her arms revealed that, beginning just above the elbow, she was branded.  At least, that’s how it appeared.  The brands moved up over her shoulders, and then down her back.  She knew the symbols were her name.  Her full name, which included her lineage.  She tried not to think about it.  

With a sigh, she forced herself to relax, and extended her wings.  They were still feathered, but the sooty black they had been was altered to a solid ebony with a glossy red sheen.  Sighing again, Trouble returned to the bed, closing her eyes and sinking down into soft mattress.  The changes would be more than just cosmetic.  Like the predatory response to the innkeeper’s fear.  It was difficult to say how the other changes would manifest.  

Rolling her shoulders, she willed her wings to retract and began to dress.  She had just finished lacing her boots when Malik returned, growling some acknowledgement of her presence before tossing his things into the packs.  She followed suit, noticing him glance at her curiously every once in a while.

“So are you going to tell me what happened,” he growled as they finished packing, and she hefted the rucksack onto her shoulders.  

“As soon as I figure it out.”

For a moment, Malik simply scowled at her, considering.  Then he nodded, and left the room.  Trouble followed quickly.  Miracle was waiting in the hall, and had obviously been standing there for quite some time.  She shot Trouble an irritated look – like everything else in their life these days, this was clearly all the imp’s fault.  Trouble smiled back at Miracle.  At least irritating the fae was still enjoyable.

* * * *
They were two days out of town when the next difference in Trouble’s demeanor was realized.  As much as the kingdom they were traveling through would like to insist otherwise, brigands and bandits were still a problem once you left the main roads.  Or even on the main roads, provided you were far enough away from the nearest guard post.  

Trouble smelled them before she heard or saw them.  Want – raging want, mostly greed, but there was lust in that scent as well.  Not surprising, really.  After all, a man would have to be dead or gay not to at least appreciate both Trouble and Miracle’s features.  There was also a faint taste of fear, though that couldn’t be coming from more than one person.  Two at the most.  Still, faint as it was, Trouble’s shoulders began to tense and her hands clench.  Malik also seemed to be aware of the fact that they were no longer alone in the forest.  Only Miracle continued blithely walking down the path, careless and clueless.

Rounding a bend in the road, they encountered the first three.  The men were ragged looking enough, but not underfed.  No, these were successful brigands, attacking not because they were desperate, but because they figured three travelers on foot with large packs were easy marks.  They said nothing, just smirked and readied their weapons, and the way they were leering at the girls made Trouble snarl and Miracle shudder.

“If you value your life, you’ll part and let us pass,” Malik growled, looking irritated but not at all frightened.

The bandits merely continued to smirk and leer, as more of their companions moved onto the road behind the three travelers.  Trouble didn’t look behind her, but she did locate the fear smell in the shape of a teenage boy creeping out to join the three before them.  

“Drop yer packs and valuables, and y’can go,” the largest of the three blocking the road stated in a coarse, backwoods accent.  “Or fight, an’ we kill ya.  The women too.  After we’re done with’em.”

Malik let out a quick bark of laughter, and dropped his pack before drawing his swords.  “Come try.”

Dropping her pack as well, Trouble snarled and crouched, her muscles burning as if she were dying to lash out.  The largest of the bandits smirked and charged towards Malik, the others following.  The first to run into Trouble’s arms was another large man, looking to be more fat than muscle, but that could be deceptive.  He smiled viciously as he approached a bit more cautiously than his leader had.  It wasn’t his own neck he feared for – he wanted to make sure Trouble was still alive when they raped her.

The scent of his lust had become gagging as Trouble advanced.  He hefted his axe to swing and it felt as if the world slowed down.  Trouble stepped in past the axe, the world silent except for the blood pounding in her ears, and with one hand reached up, sinking her nails into the neck of her assailant and ripping out his trachea.

The man fell away from her, surprise on his face.  She took the axe from his slackening grip and turned, looking for her next target.  One presented itself rather quickly.  While there had only been three before them - four if you counted the frightened teenager who continued to stand in one place, clutching his dagger before him as if it were a shield – six had come up behind.

The weight of the axe felt natural, the grip of the handle a homecoming, and the spray of blood that fountained forth when Trouble severed the hand of the man now attacking her seemed the most glorious shade of red she’d ever encountered.  She glanced about the field of battle to see Miracle hastily defending herself – and, to the imp’s dismay, winning – and Malik felling brigands with the same ruthless efficiency he did all things.  She noted he had taken out four to her two, and that irritated her.  But there were more.

Leaving the axe buried in the chest of the handless one, she lifted a pair of short swords and charged towards the next bandit.  The swords were in poor shape, and hadn’t been sharpened in some time, but they opened his chest easily enough.  Trouble left him bleeding, coughing himself into death.  Her next opponent was more difficult – quick and perhaps more intelligent than his cohorts, he managed to put enough distance between himself and Trouble that he might have escaped, had she not taken to the air.  Screaming like a fury, she descended upon him, leaving the two swords sheathed in his back.

Panting, Trouble turned towards the remains of the fray.  The only person left was the boy, still clutching his dagger, having quite obviously soiled himself.  Trouble’s lip curled, but she didn’t lunge.  Instead she just watched as Malik approached the boy.

“Last chance,” Malik stated, his grating voice still low and menacing as always.  “Run or die like all fools.”

Relief flooded the boy’s features and he took off down the road, back in the direction of the town they’d left.  Malik surveyed the bandits, and looked in Trouble’s direction with a slight frown, his eyes moving from her bloodied hand to her face, and back.  Irritation dampened her elation from the battle.  Why was he upset?  She had fought more than well enough.  Grumbling to herself, she turned and began the process of looting the bodies before they picked up their sacks and continued on their way.

Silence reigned as they continued down the road, Trouble walking a little ahead of everyone else, still energized from the battle.  She felt alive, more so than she ever remembered feeling.  She paused briefly to pluck a strange, vibrant red flower with large oval petals, attracted by the color and the scent.  The pause stretched, though, as she examined the flower, and looked around.

“Nothing was blooming on the road,” she murmured, turning about to examine the trail behind them, which was liberally dotted with patches of vibrant color.  “Malik, I think you’ve done it again.”

She didn’t have to explain herself further.  Malik glanced at the flower in her hand and looked around, then nodded and continued walking.  She marveled at his intelligence sometimes – people tended to write him off as just another muscle-bound merc, but he was quick.  A very keen intellect hid behind his strange golden eyes.

“Hey, come look,” Miracle called back to them from where she had continued down the path.  “There’s an inn!”

Sighing heavily, Malik glared at Miracle as they approached the next bend in the road.  “Must we?”

Wrinkling up her nose, Miracle nodded.  “After the battle, I need a bath.  We all do.  Let’s go see if we have currency they’ll accept.”

They trudged towards the building, a place creatively called “Halfway Inn”.  It was rather large, with thick bubble glass windows and a large double door.  Flagstones marked the path from the street to the door, with a simple beaten track leading to the stables.  The building was stone and wood, but the stones were a deep green in color, and they almost shimmered in the setting sun.  Laughter and music lilted out through the open doors, and the stable didn’t look packed, but it looked full enough.  Malik cursed under his breath, but continued to follow Miracle through the doors.

A riot of color, sounds, and scents assaulted Trouble’s senses as they stepped inside.  This was by far the prettiest inn they had found themselves at in at least a year.  Trouble spotted at least three races – one more or less human looking, then a group of elegant, tall, hairless bipeds in shades of green, and some elf-like creatures in purples and blues, with strange patterning on their skin.  The people here dressed colorfully, and a few even sported elaborate make-up, or had ribbons or ornaments braided into their hair.  In at least two cases, sections of their hair were dyed some bright, unnatural color.  Miracle looked around, obviously enchanted.  Much as she disliked agreeing with Miracle on anything, Trouble rather felt the same way.

The innkeeper was easy to find – a large man, looking rather more like a former soldier, holding forth behind the bar.  Trouble and Malik hung back as Miracle approached to haggle, and moments later returned to two chits.

“We’re lucky,” Miracle exclaimed, glowing.  “We got their last two rooms.  Otherwise it would have been the main room or the stables.  Oh, and they have baths down by the laundry.  You just go down and show them your pass, and they’ll draw one for you.  Trouble, you should go first.  Your hand is still – well, you should go first.”

Looking down at her hand, still covered with the rusty stains of dried blood, Trouble grimaced but acknowledged the wisdom of Miracle’s words.  They went up to the rooms to deposit their things.  The lodgings were intriguing.  There were actual lavatories with running water (though quite crude compared to others they’d seen), and the beds were essentially hammocks stretched over oval frames and piled with pillows and blankets rather than actual mattresses.

Trouble tossed her belongings into a corner, retrieved a simple dress from her pack, and went downstairs to where the baths were.  Towels and soap were provided, likely because Miracle had overpaid for everything, but Trouble wasn’t of a mind to dwell on the fae or her various habits.  Stripping quickly, she added a bit more hot water from the copper boiler to the side of the tub, until the water was quite a bit warmer than most would enjoy.  Then she stepped in, and let herself relax.  

She closed her eyes and relaxed again, listening to everything going on around her.  It was harder to pick up separate conversations today.  Too much noise, too much activity.  So she just listened to the music and laughter, and let that calm her.  When the water began to cool, she sat up, washed quickly, and rang for the boy to empty the basin for the next person.  She giggled to herself a bit as the young man stared while she toweled off and dressed simple gown.  He did his job quickly, though, and was leaving the room with  her soiled clothes before she was completely done.

The dagged sleeves of the gown hid the brands on her arms, and she left her hair down to cover where it crept up over her neck.  The deep red would do nothing to help with her pale complexion, but that was best not thought of.  She smoothed the dress, and returned to the common room, where Malik and Miracle were finishing their meal.  Malik rose without a word as soon as Trouble sat down, heading for the baths, and leaving Miracle pouting at his back.  By the hint of a smile that had curved his lips before walking away, Miracle must have been annoying him again.

“So why are you so happy,” Miracle asked after a few minutes while Trouble sipped at a cup of mead and looked around the inn.  “Did you find something to kill while you were in there?  Or perhaps you sullied the poor boy in charge of the laundry.”

“I’ll leave that to you dear,” Trouble commented without even looking in the fairy’s direction.  “He shouldn’t be too much trouble, even for you.  Perhaps he can help you dislodge the post up your ass while you’re at it.”

Standing, Trouble drank off the rest of the mead while Miracle sputtered, and turned from the girl to head up the stairs.  She wasn’t there long when Malik returned from his bath, wearing nothing more than a fresh pair of pants and a fencer’s glove that covered the entire length of his left arm.  She studied him briefly, and her heightened sense of smell caught the mingling odors of leather, soap, and of course him.  Wetting her lips, she moved forward and grasped his arm.  He looked up in surprise, and she took advantage of his uncertainty to push back against the bed.

Surprised or no, Malik was no green warrior.  By the time they landed, he had turned them around, so it was Trouble on her back with her hands pinned down to either side.

"You better be in a friendly mood.  I'd rather not have to kill you."
Trouble laughed, and looked up into his impassive eyes.  “Friendly does not begin to cover it.  But don’t you worry, Malik.  I have no intention of harming you.  Let us just say that I have a new found appreciation of life.  And I’m testing it’s limits.”

Further conversation was halted as she brought her mouth to his.  She rarely kissed him – it was not something she needed.  Sex, when it happened between them, was infrequent, and more along the lines of experimentation for Trouble rather than driven by any actual desire.  Tonight, though – the sensations she had been experiencing since her “awakening” had sparked a curious fire.  So she kissed him, fierce and hungry, and after a moment of shock he responded to that hunger with somewhat more enthusiasm than he had shown in quite some time.