Post by Jonok Coldfury on Sept 22, 2008 21:15:56 GMT -5
She woke to darkness. It took her a moment to realize the darkness was due to herself, not the world around her. She was blind. She sat up as she felt the ground around her. She was sitting on soft grass. She could hear the wind blowing through the trees around her. An image formed in her mind as she focused on the sound. She was in a small clearing. Behind her was a large, smooth, circular surface inlaid into a jagged cliff face. She began to feel herself. She wore a robe over shorts and a tunic. A short sword hung at her side on her belt. She had knives on her belt, ankles, and wrists. There was a bandage wrapped around her head and covered her eyes. Her hands were wrapped, as well. She began feeling along the ground again. Her hands found a staff with intricate carvings. She pulled these things close to her, running her hands along its surface. Now that she knew a little about what was around her, she began to think. “Why am I here? Where is here?” She paused a moment, there were several incoherent thoughts floating though her mind. She couldn’t make since of any of it.
A noise brought her out of her thoughts. The rustle of leaves. She stood up, quite shakily and with a good deal of difficulty and pulled the hood of her robe over her head. Then, she wrapped her fingers around the staff. That’s when she felt it. A ring. She didn’t have long to ponder it before she heard the rustle again. “Who’s there?” She asked as she saw the shape of a wolf-person form in her mind as the sound bounced off of it. The newcomer was nearly a foot and a half shorter than her. “Hi there. I’ve never seen you around here. I’m Zoola!” the wolf-person said, her voice sounding young and full of life. “Nice to meet you, I’m…” she paused, thinking back. “I’m...” her head lowered “I can’t remember…” Zoola was taken aback, “You don’t know who you are? Do you know where you are from?” The woman in the hood slowly shook her head. Zoola squinted her eyes at the woman, “It is difficult to forget ones name and where one comes from… Are you hurt?” The woman shook her head again. A distant rumble of thunder caused them both to look skyward. The wind began to pick up, bringing with it the smell of rain. “Bad weather’s coming… it’s not good to get stuck out here in a storm, do you have a place to stay?” Zoola asked. The woman in the hood slowly turned her head as she surveyed the image of the clearing. Slowly she turned to face Zoola again, “I’m not sure…” Zoola smiled as she stepped forward, “Comon, you can stay with me. I wouldn’t let someone get left out in the rain.” Zoola took the woman’s hand and led her out of the clearing toward her home.
“You need a name,” Zoola commented after they had been walking for a few moments. “Just something to call you until you remember who you are. What would you like me to call you?” The woman in the hood thought for a moment. “What do you think would suit me, Zoola?” Zoola stopped and turned to face her, looking her over. She stood with her head cocked to one side, tapping her lips with her fingers. “I’ve got it. White Hood! It’s simple, elegant. Flows off the tongue. It’s perfect! You wear a hood and Hood is the last name of one of the most famous Agents of Zargon!” The woman in the hood thought it over for a moment, “Alright… but why white?” Zoola looked confused, “Because that’s the color of your robe…” she said as she inched forward. She peered up under the edge of the hood to see the bandage. “Oh, I’m sorry, miss… I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…” “Don’t worry about it, Zoola,” White said calmly, “What time of day is it?” Zoola looked up at the darkening sky, “Its nearly mid day… Have you eaten?” At the thought of food, White’s stomach growled. “I guess not.” She said, half laughing. Zoola took her hand and led her on, “You’re in for a treat, White, I’m the best cook in the village.” They walked on for a little bit in silence, “So, this agent you spoke of, was he handsome?” White asked. Zoola looked at her over her shoulder, “Well, I never actually met him, but I heard he was very handsome. I also heard that he never married.” The pair of them continued to chat as they walked through the woods, making their way toward the village.
Zoola lived in a large village set on the side of a mountain, hidden amongst the trees. The buildings were built along a road that made several switchbacks up the mountainside. People were milling about, tending to various chores, shopping, fixing, building, cleaning, and all other manner of things that must be done to live in such a place. White had let her mind rest as Zoola led her along, for she found that focusing on sound to make a mental image was tiring. But she didn’t need this extra sense to tell that people were watching her. She could feel the eyes gazing at her. Most of them continued about their business as they glanced at her, but a few stopped and watched.
Zoola led White through the town to her home. “Here we are, home sweet home.” White lifted her head listening. It was a small, two level home with a open air front porch on both levels. It looked very warm and inviting. She let her focus widen to encompass other homes along the road. Many of them looked similar, but a few were a bit larger.
Zoola led her into the house. “Tornen, we have company!” “Aye,” came a gruff voice from the back room, “We’ve always got company when you go for your walks.” A wolf-man, who appeared equally as gruff as his voice, stepped into the doorway, looking White up and down, “Welcome to our humble abode, ma’am.” “This is Tornen, my husband.” Zoola said, urging White further into the room. “Tor, this is miss White Hood.” Tornen shifted his weight. “How do you do, Tornen?” White asked with a slight nod of her head. “Quite well, ma’am, quite well. I am getting hungry, though.” “Right!” Zoola exclaimed, “I’ll get started on diner.” With that she hurried off to the kitchen. “Hood… that’s a strong name. The name of a strong man… an Agent. You wouldn’t happen to be a relation, would ya?” White shook her head, “No. In fact, White Hood is the name your wife gave me. You see… I don’t remember who I am. Or where I come from… or how I got here.” “Really? Well don’t you worry, miss White, it will come back to ya.” Tornen said as he stepped toward her, “Let me help you with your robe.” He held it as she pulled her arms free, then hung it on a hook beside the door. When he turned to face her again, he let out a low whistle, “Well, now I know not to cross you.”
“Why is that, Tornen?”
“You’re armed to the teeth, that’s why!”
White remembered the knives she had strapped to herself. “Oh, right…” She removed the ones on her wrists and ankles and held them out to Tornen, “Where can I put these?” Tornen took them and placed them on a shelf above the robe, “Right here. Would you like to hang your sword here, too?” White’s hand shot to the hilt of the blade, “No!” she quickly responded. Tornen held up his hands and stepped back, “Alright, miss, I was just offering.” White slowly lifted her hand from the hilt. “Sorry… I don’t know what came over me.” Tornen stepped around her to the table near the back of the room and sat down. White slowly followed him. “It’s alright, miss Hood, you can sit down.” Tornen said, looking up at her now uncovered face, “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t notice, here let me help you…” He started to get up. “No, no, I’m fine.” White replied calmly. She walked across the room and laid a hand on the back of an empty chair, then pulled it back and sat down. “Well, I’ll be. How’d you do that without seeing?” White smiled, pointing at her ears. “Really? How’s that?” Tornen asked, astonished. White shrugged, “I don’t know how I know how to do it, but I do.”
“What’s it like?”
“It’s like seeing with your eyes, only without color, or shadow or darkness. It takes focus and a lot of concentration.” Tornen nodded as she spoke, “I’ll bet.” Enchanting smells and content humming began to drift into White’s senses from the kitchen. The smell of food made her stomach growl again.
A clap of thunder cut through the quite mountain side. Rain began falling and heavily. White breathed in deeply the smell of the rain. The way it mixed with the smell of diner was quite relaxing. White could feel everything just fall away… all the worry, the doubt, the confusing thoughts that floated around her head… all of it just faded into the background. She began taking in the room, its various decorations and furnishings. It was quite obvious that it was not just a house, it was a home. This place was a part of Zoola and Tornen. Her attention fell on something hanging on the wall. A violin. White turned to Tornen, “Do you play?” she asked, indicating the instrument. Tornen turned to look, “Oh, no ma’am. When I touch that thing, the noises it makes would make your skin crawl. I gave that to Zoola as a birthday present. She takes it down from time to time and plays a little. She had always said she wanted to know how to play, but no one here knows how, so she’s had to teach herself.” White stood and carefully crossed the room to where the instrument hung on the wall. She gingerly ran her fingers along the strings. She lightly plucked one and its soft tone filled the room. “Feel free to play it, Zoola wouldn’t mind.” White turned to him, “Oh, no, I couldn’t. I don’t know how.” She came back to the table and sat down.
“So, Tornen, what do you and your wife do?” White asked, trying to avoid the awkward pauses that had been plaguing the conversation. Tornen chuckled, “Well, Zoola and I are teachers. We run a school for the local children. We enjoy every day. Those kids are always an adventure.” White was amazed, “Really? I never would have guessed.” Tornen nodded, “We opened that school only months after we got married. That was five years ago and we’re still goin’ strong, doing our best it ensure a better future.” White smiled, “That is a noble pursuit.” Tornen chuckled again. “Tornen!” Zoola called from the kitchen. “Right!” he called back, “Just a moment, White.” Tornen jumped up and quickly strode into the kitchen. Just after he went in, Zoola came out with bowls and spoons and quickly set the table. As soon as she finished, Tornen came back in, toting a soup pot. “Here we are! My famous spice soup!” Tornen placed the pot in the middle of the table then sat down. Zoola ladled out three large servings, one to each of them then took her place, across from her husband. All three of them wasted no time in starting. “Mmm… this is amazing. I must say that you spoke the truth, Zoola.” White exclaimed after swallowing her first spoon full. “What’s that?” Zoola asked. “You must be the best cook in the village.” Zoola smiled, “Thank you. I might teach you how to make it one day.” This made White smile. She wasn’t sure if she could cook, but to try sounded like fun.
The soup was both warming and filling, spicy and sweet. There was little talk as they ate because all of them were very hungry. Soon, the three of them sat at the table with three empty bowls, an empty soup pot, and full stomachs. “My dear, you have outdone yourself yet again.” Tornen said after sighing the kind of sigh one has after a filling meal. Zoola smiled, “I simply do the best I can.” Tornen pointed across the table at her, “That’s the secret.” He then pointed at White, “Remember this, always do your best, never less than that. You know why?” White thought for a moment. “Because if you always do your best, your best will become better.” Tornen smiled, “Very good, very good.” He then stood and collected all of the dishes into the soup pot and carried it back into the kitchen. White turned to Zoola, “Thank you for your kindness. If there is anything I can do to repay you…” “No, no, you are a guest here. You owe us nothing.” Zoola cut in, “You may stay as long as you need to. We have a spare room right over there where you can sleep.” she pointed to a door right beside the staircase. The mention of sleep made White realize how tired she was. It hit her quite suddenly. Her muscles became weak, like a heavy blanket had fallen on top of her. “Sleep sounds wonderful. I think I will go ahead and retire.” Zoola smiled, “Sleep well, White.” White nodded as Zoola stood and turned to the kitchen, “You too.”
White retrieved her things before going into her room. It was small, but had everything she would need. She hung her robe on a hook on the wall and propped her staff up next to it. She pulled her weapon belt free and hung it on the back of a chair that was pushed up under a desk beside the bed. She climbed onto the bed, on top of the covers. Zoola and Tornen’s voices drifted into the room. White couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but it didn’t bother her. She was too busy thinking of other things. The thoughts that swam about her were like pieces of a puzzle, or maybe even several puzzles. She was trying to piece them together to make sense of it all, but with nothing to guide her, it would be impossible to complete the picture. She slowly drifted off into a restful sleep with pleasant dreams.
White woke the following morning to find the house empty. She could hear the villagers beginning their day outside. On the table was a plate of breakfast. White quickly relieved it of its contents then retrieved her things from her room.
The ground was soft outside from all the rain the night before. The pads of White’s feet lightly sunk into the dirt and mud of the road as she strode along. A light breeze flowed past, causing the end of her robe to flutter softly around her ankles. A few villagers passed by her as they went about their business, some of them gave her a hearty “good morning” which she happily returned. She was passing a shop when she heard the owner cursing himself. “What did I do with it…” White stopped, turning to face the shop. Something compelled her to go inside, so she took the few steps into the shop. The shopkeeper was looking through drawers and cupboards. “I never take it off, where is it?!” the shopkeeper exclaimed as his search became more frantic. “What is it you are looking for?” White asked as she stood in the doorway watching him. The man jumped at the sound of her voice. “Oh… I’m sorry ma’am, you scared me. I’ve just lost a locket. It was my wife’s… it’s all I have left of her, save the memories. But I can’t find it.” White’s shoulders fell, “I’m sorry, sir… May I help you look?” The shopkeeper, looked her over. His eyes fell on the bandage over her eyes. After a moment, he said, “Well, if you’d like to.” She strode into the shop, her ears forming the image in her mind. “What is its shape?”
“It looks like a heart shaped…”
“Leaf about half the size of your palm?” White finished the sentence for him. The man was speechless, “Wha… how… Yes, but…” White held up a hand. “Wait…” She felt a pull, drawing her across the shop. Just before she reached the far wall, her foot hit a hallow section of floor. She crouched down and felt it. “Is this a cellar?” she asked. “Yes, it is.”
“What do you keep down there?”
“Surplus items and things that people don’t want to buy.”
“May I?” White asked as she found the handle.
“Of course, but please be careful, the ladder is steep.” White pulled the trap door open. The hole it revealed was dark, but White could see with ease. She carefully made her way down the ladder. Her foot hit the dirt floor. She crouched down and felt the ground between the ladder and the wall. Her fingers found cool metal. She lifted it and placed it in a pocket of her robe before climbing back up the ladder.
The shopkeeper’s shoulders sagged when she came up with empty hands. “I hadn’t looked down there yet… So it wasn’t there?” White pulled the object from her pocket and held it out. He snatched it from her, turning it over in his hand. He chuckled. “I have no idea who you are, or how you did that, but thank you.”
“You’re quite welcome, Mr…”
“Anolo, Folo Anolo, at your service.”
“A pleasure to meet you. They call me White Hood.”
Folo raised an eyebrow, “Ah, any relation to Agent Hood?”
“No, there’s no relation. White Hood is not my real name… I don’t remember my real name…”
“I see…well, miss White, you are always welcome in my shop. And if there is anything I can do for you, it would be an honor for you to ask it.”
“I would be grateful if you could direct me to Zoola and Tornen’s school.”
“Of course, come, I’ll take you.”
After locking up his store, Folo led White along the road through one of the switchbacks to a small wood building. The sound of children laughing came from the open front door. Folo bade her farewell then started back up the street to his shop, calling to her that he hoped to see her again in his shop.
White stepped into the doorway of the school. The children were sitting on the floor around their teachers. Zoola sat in a chair holding a book so the class could see it and Tornen was standing beside her, gesturing with his hands and acting out the story as he told it. The story told of a turtle and his family who had lost their home in a terrible storm. They were searching for a new place to live, but no matter what they did, no place would suit them and when they found a place that would work, something would happen to keep them from staying there. At the end of the story, the family realized that they had always been home because they had always been together and that was all they needed.
The class cheered and clapped as the story concluded. They began calling out for another story. “We’ll tell you another later, but first all of you have a test to take. Now, pull your desks back into rows.” A collective groan rose from the children. They slowly got up and did as they were told. Zoola spotted White in the doorway. “Good morning! Did you sleep well?” she said as she walked up to her. White smiled, “Yes, very well. I just came down to see your school.” “Well, come on in!” White stepped across the threshold as Zoola introduced her, “Class, this is miss White, she’s new here so let’s make her welcome!” All the children had turned to see. “Hello miss White!” they said in unison. “Hello, children.” She replied, smiling. Zoola led her to a chair in the front of the room. White sat down as Zoola and Tornen passed the test out to the children.
About a half an hour later, they had all finished and Zoola had begun a lesson on the history of the Land of Zargon. She would often stop and ask the class a question about what happened next. Most of the time, several hands would raise and the selected child would answer, usually correctly. When Zoola concluded the history lesson, it was time for lunch. Many of the children left to go home for lunch, but several stayed to eat with their friends. Zoola, Tornen, and White sat with them and ate. A tiny skrieve girl sat in the chair next to White, swinging her legs as she ate. She stared up at White, only taking her eyes off her to take a bite of her lunch. “Why do you wear that over your eyes, miss White?” White looked down at the little one and smiled, “Because I can’t see.”
The little girl laughed, “Well of course you can’t see with that on!”
“No, no, I can’t see, so I wear this to protect my eyes.”
“Ooooh…” the little girl looked down at the floor and fell silent. “I’m sorry.” She said, not looking up. White looked down at her, confused, “Sorry for what?” The girl looked up at her, “I’m sorry you can’t see…” White smiled, “You’ve no need to be sorry, little one. What’s your name?”
“Lona.”
“That is a beautiful name.” White’s comment made Lona smile. “I like your name, too.” White returned the child’s smile. Soon the other children began returning from their break. When the last of them was back in their desk, Tornen began a short lesson in mathematics. Then a lesson in reading and writing. And to finish the day, he did as promised and pulled out the story book. The children quickly pushed the desks out away from the center of the room. They sat as they had before while Tornen and Zoola readied themselves to tell the story. White pulled a chair up behind the crowd of children so she listen more carefully. Just before the story began, something began tugging on her robe. She looked down to find Lona. White leaned down close to her and Lona whispered, “Can I sit in your lap, I can’t see from back here…” White smiled, “Of course.” She picked the little one up and placed her in her lap. “That’s a pretty ring, Where’d you get it?” Lona asked in a whisper. White had forgotten about the ring. She didn’t want to have to explain to the child that she didn’t know where it came from, so she told her what she thought was the most likely. “A friend gave it to me. A friend I haven’t seen in a long time. Be quiet now, Lona. Listen to the story.” The little one nodded as she turned to watch Tornen act out the story.
When it was over, Zoola dismissed the children so they could go home. White waved goodbye to Lona as she walked up the street toward home. White smiled as she watched the children go. White, Zoola, and Tornen cleaned the school room and moved the desks back into rows before closing and locking the door and heading home themselves. White soon found herself sitting at the table as Zoola and Tornen started diner. Her gaze fell on the violin. She couldn’t tear her attention away from the instrument.
“Just try to play it.” Tornen’s voice startled her. “But I don’t know…” Tornen cut in, “How do you know that you don’t know. Who knows? It could help you remember.” White nodded, slowly getting to her feet. She crossed the room to where the instrument hung. She gently took it down and placed it under her chin. She lifted the bow from its hook and laid it across the strings. She hesitantly drew it across the strings. The instrument released a terrible shrill noise. White cringed. The failure, however, made her more determined. She placed the bow in the same place and pulled it confidently across the strings. The note started as a weak wine, but ended as a full rich tone. She began pulling the bow back and forth across the strings, her fingers moving along the violin’s neck, pressing the strings. With each pass of the bow, the notes were richer and fuller. White began stringing notes together. Soon a song flowed forth from the violin, one that conveyed a mood of happiness. The tempo began to pick up and a small smile spread across White’s face. The progression of the song went from fast and happy, to solemn and slow, to flowing and inspirational.
White drew the bow across the strings in one final, prolonged note that she let die away. Tornen was nodding, “See?” Zoola was standing next to her husband in the door of the kitchen. “That was amazing, White!” White lowered her head, smiling. She carefully replaced the instrument to its place on the wall, and then turned to face Zoola, “Would you let me teach you? To thank you for your kindness.” Zoola was taken back, “No, no that’s alright. You don’t have… I… I would like that very much… I’ve always wanted to know how to play!” White smiled, “As soon as we finish eating we will begin.”
The three of them ate and then sat in the arm chairs placed around the fireplace for the lesson. Zoola already understood the basics of how to play, so they quickly moved on to more complicated notes and ideas involved in playing the violin. Tornen sat and watched, smiling to himself, quite glad to see his wife happy.
And so, White established a routine. She would rise in the morning, when Zoola and Tornen did, and eat breakfast with them. Then, she would sometimes go to Folo’s shop to help him, other times she would go to the school, and still other times she would go exploring the forest. In the evenings, she would eat with her hosts and then sit down with Zoola to continue her violin lessons. The news of how White helped Folo find the locket spread through town and people would occasionally seek her out for help. Every time, she would find what they were looking for, though it would sometimes take more than a day for her to find it. The people of the village gave her a nickname that quickly stuck; “The Seer of Lost Things” or “the Seer” for short.
This pattern continued for a little over a week. On one morning, as White was walking to the school, she heard the ring of steel, a battle, blade on blade. She quickly followed the sound to find a ring of men cheering as two more men fought each other. They both held swords and were circling each other. One would lunge forward, the other would block. White pushed her way into the circle, listening to the fight. One of the men swung wide, but the other caught his wrist and brought the point of his blade up to the swinger’s throat. The swinger went limp, “Yield.” He stated. The other released him and the beaten warrior backed away. The crowd cheered. The victory slowly turned taking in the glory. He raised his arms, nodding his head. His gaze fell on White. “Well, what have we here? A new combatant!” White looked about, confused. “If you stand within the ring with a weapon, you are welcoming a fight.” White shook her head, “I was only observing.” A smirk spread across the man’s face, “I knew you’d be afraid.” All the emotion drained from White’s face. “What is your name, brave warrior?” she asked, with a sarcastic tone. “Grood.” White thrust her staff into the ground then removed her robe and hung it over the top end of the staff. The men in the ring began to chuckle. White slowly drew her sword as she stepped toward Grood. She stood, quite relaxed with her arm extended, and her blade pointed toward Grood. His face turned quite serious as he looked her over, the knives, the sword, and the bandage over her eyes. “I’m sorry, miss, I didn’t know you were…” “What’s the matter, Grood? Afraid of being beaten by a blind woman?” White asked, coolly. Grood growled. With a sudden movement, he swung his blade at White. The world fell silent as the clash of steel rang through the air. Grood’s eyes were large as he stood; his sword pressed against White’s, which, in a blink of an eye, had moved to block the strike. White gave a quick shove with her sword, pushing Grood backwards, then swung her blade. Grood just barely recovered in time to block. They began to circle on another. Each would lash out at the other, trying to catch the other by surprise. They exchanged blows in this manner for almost a minute. Grood grew tired of toying with the blind woman; he was going to end it. He suddenly brought his blade up high over his head and swung with all his strength, bringing the blade down onto his opponent. But White was too fast. She simply stepped forward, grabbing his blade hand. She delivered a powerful kick to Grood’s chest, knocking him backwards. As he began to fall, he lost his grip on his sword and its handle gently falling into White’s grasp. Grood landed on his back with a thud. Before he could move, he felt cold steel on either side of his throat. White had driven the blades into the ground in such a way that they cross each other over Grood’s throat and their cutting edges were just touching the sides of his neck. White casually placed a foot on top of his chest and stood looking down at him, waiting. Grood could tell from the look on her face she was waiting for his yield. He grabbed the grips of both blades and tried to pull them free, but they had been trust deep into the ground and the angle from which he pulled made his strength useless. White crouched down close to his face, a small smile was just visible at the corners of her mouth. Grood sighed, “Yield.” White nodded, pulling her blade free and lifting her foot off of her opponent. She wiped the dirt off the sword’s tip as she waited for Grood to get to his feet and free his sword from the ground. The men in the ring had been silent throughout the fight. A couple of them chuckled as they watched Grood slowly get back to his feet, brushing the dirt off his clothes. “It appears I underestimate you, Miss White.” White’s smile widened, “At least you are man enough to admit you are wrong.” All the men laughed at the comment, even Grood.
“How about a rematch? No weapons, nothing but our own speed, strength and skill!” Grood exclaimed. White paused the cleaning of her blade and turned to look him in the face. She lowered the blade, releasing it tip first into the ground. She undid her weapon belt and laid it across the crosstree of her sword. Then, she pulled the knives from their sheaths on her wrists and threw them down at her feet. She knelt and freed her last two knives from their places at her ankles and stabbed them into the ground as well. She pulled the belt off her shoulder that held the two bladed weapon to her back and laid it on the ground.
White stepped forward with nothing but herself. Grood had moved his sword while he waited and was now standing casually, waiting for her to be ready. When she stepped forward, he shifted his feet, altering his stance so that he was half turned toward her; he lifted his fists and prepared to fight. White stood straight and tall facing Grood head on, one foot forward, her hands were open and relaxed. White was breathing deeply, “Ready?” Grood nodded, “Aye.” He began inching forward, bouncing slightly on his feet. He began to circle White, but she stayed as she was. Grood continued circling and getting closer until he was just out of her reach. He stopped directly behind her and threw the first punch. White twisted her torso to dodge the blow and caught his wrist. Grood threw another punch, but this time, White couldn’t move to dodge. The blow landed squarely on her shoulder blade. Pain lanced through her shoulder and she winced. She twisted Grood’s arm in retaliation, causing him to turn just enough that she could kick him in the back of the knee, forcing him to go down onto that knee. With a quick twist, she had Grood’s arm pinned to his back and twisted in such a way to cause him pain. She forced him to his feet, fully expecting him to yield, but once his was on his feet, he simply stood there. Just as White started to speak, Grood suddenly dropped to the ground, pulling her with him. The suddenness of the move caused her grip to loosen just enough that Grood could twist and throw his free arm around behind her head and get her into a powerful headlock. They struggled on the ground, kicking up a cloud of dirt, trying to free themselves without compromising their hold on the other. White held on tightly, but could feel her grip beginning to slip as Grood furiously tugged, trying to break free. With one powerful yank, her hold failed and Grood’s arm was free. He immediately elbowed her in the side. He then raised his free arm high over his head in a fist and the men in the circle cheered as he slowly turned with White’s head locked in his arm. “So, miss White, are you going to yield?” Grood asked in a mocking tone as he looked down at the back of her head. White responded by twisting in his grip so she faced the sky instead of the ground, the same just visible smile she had had earlier on her face. With a mighty jump, she flipped up over Grood, who lost his grip and balance. White twisted in the air so that she was facing Grood as she came down. She hadn’t even landed yet when her foot landed firmly on Grood’s chest, throwing him backwards. She landed in a half crouch, watching him. Grood was flat on his back, spread eagle. He coughed violently as he started to rub the spot where the kick had landed. He sat up in a daze, shaking his head to try to clear the fog. White stood and strode over to him, offering her hand. He looked up at her, blinking. He grabbed her hand and she pulled him to his feet. As soon as he regained his footing, he spun White by the arm and held her in such a way that her own arm was around her neck. He was about to grab her free arm, but she was too quick. Her elbow found his kidney, causing him to double over in pain. White spun around and slammed her interlocked fists down onto Grood’s back, knocking him to the ground, face first. She put a foot on his shoulder and grabbed his arm, lifting it as high as she could. Grood began to laugh weakly, “You’re pretty good, White. I’ll give ya that. But I won’t yield this time.” White smiled and pulled on his arm a bit more, applying more pressure to the joint. Grood howled in pain, “I won’t!” She applied more pressure and the pitch of the howl increased.
White was impressed, Grood laid there with his grimacing face in the dirt for well over a minute, but in the end, the agonizing pain of the way she twisted his arm won out. “YIELD!” he shouted. White slowly lowered his arm so that Grood would not endure the pain of having his overextended muscles suddenly stretched the opposite way. She gently helped him to his feet and they stood facing each other as Grood rubbed his arm with a look of anger and rage on his face. He closed his eyes and sighed; the anger faded. He held out his hand as he opened his eyes, White took it, and they shook. “It was an honor, Grood. You are truly a powerful warrior.” A hint of a smile crept onto Grood’s face, “’Twas an honor to fight you as well, Miss White.” The two of them turn and began gathering up their things. White whipped her knives off on her pant leg before sliding them into their scabbards. She pulled her weapon belts back on and fastened them just loose enough. Then she pulled her sword free from the dirt and whipped it’s blade.
“Now if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I have business to attend to.” White said as she slid her sword back into it’s scabbard. She pulled on her robe and gave her staff a stiff jerk, freeing it from the ground. She continued the way she had been going, toward the school, to help Zoola and Tornen with the school children. The rest of the day passed as the others had, except for the amazement Zoola and Tornen showed over diner as White told of the event. Zoola had come a long way in her musical talent. She was quickly approaching a level that White felt she wouldn’t be able to teach her anything else.
At the conclusion of the lesson, White bade goodnight to her hosts and retired to her room. As she lay on the bed, she began pondering who she was again, as she had every night. A few of the pieces had fallen together, some faces, some names, some places, but she couldn’t tell how any of them were related. She felt the ring that was still wrapped around her finger, wondering what it meant… marriage? Friendship? Was someone out there waiting for her? Had someone died, someone she swore she would never forget? These questions had plagued her mind every night, and they were simply maddening. What she would give to talk to someone who had known her. She stretched her arm, rubbing her shoulder where Grood had landed his blow, the muscles were tense, but the pain was gone. “Will I ever remember?” she asked aloud, almost hoping someone would answer. Her swimming thoughts soon gave way to dreams, but they were strange dreams of a wolfman wrapped in a tattered cloak, traveling across the country; of a grogowen in a tournament who is defeated and losses his hand; of a dragon asleep in her cave home; and of a book without words. There were voices that spoke to her throughout the dream, but she couldn't make them out. Then came a voice that spoke clearly and distinctly, "The travelers, young one, the travelers..."
A noise brought her out of her thoughts. The rustle of leaves. She stood up, quite shakily and with a good deal of difficulty and pulled the hood of her robe over her head. Then, she wrapped her fingers around the staff. That’s when she felt it. A ring. She didn’t have long to ponder it before she heard the rustle again. “Who’s there?” She asked as she saw the shape of a wolf-person form in her mind as the sound bounced off of it. The newcomer was nearly a foot and a half shorter than her. “Hi there. I’ve never seen you around here. I’m Zoola!” the wolf-person said, her voice sounding young and full of life. “Nice to meet you, I’m…” she paused, thinking back. “I’m...” her head lowered “I can’t remember…” Zoola was taken aback, “You don’t know who you are? Do you know where you are from?” The woman in the hood slowly shook her head. Zoola squinted her eyes at the woman, “It is difficult to forget ones name and where one comes from… Are you hurt?” The woman shook her head again. A distant rumble of thunder caused them both to look skyward. The wind began to pick up, bringing with it the smell of rain. “Bad weather’s coming… it’s not good to get stuck out here in a storm, do you have a place to stay?” Zoola asked. The woman in the hood slowly turned her head as she surveyed the image of the clearing. Slowly she turned to face Zoola again, “I’m not sure…” Zoola smiled as she stepped forward, “Comon, you can stay with me. I wouldn’t let someone get left out in the rain.” Zoola took the woman’s hand and led her out of the clearing toward her home.
“You need a name,” Zoola commented after they had been walking for a few moments. “Just something to call you until you remember who you are. What would you like me to call you?” The woman in the hood thought for a moment. “What do you think would suit me, Zoola?” Zoola stopped and turned to face her, looking her over. She stood with her head cocked to one side, tapping her lips with her fingers. “I’ve got it. White Hood! It’s simple, elegant. Flows off the tongue. It’s perfect! You wear a hood and Hood is the last name of one of the most famous Agents of Zargon!” The woman in the hood thought it over for a moment, “Alright… but why white?” Zoola looked confused, “Because that’s the color of your robe…” she said as she inched forward. She peered up under the edge of the hood to see the bandage. “Oh, I’m sorry, miss… I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…” “Don’t worry about it, Zoola,” White said calmly, “What time of day is it?” Zoola looked up at the darkening sky, “Its nearly mid day… Have you eaten?” At the thought of food, White’s stomach growled. “I guess not.” She said, half laughing. Zoola took her hand and led her on, “You’re in for a treat, White, I’m the best cook in the village.” They walked on for a little bit in silence, “So, this agent you spoke of, was he handsome?” White asked. Zoola looked at her over her shoulder, “Well, I never actually met him, but I heard he was very handsome. I also heard that he never married.” The pair of them continued to chat as they walked through the woods, making their way toward the village.
Zoola lived in a large village set on the side of a mountain, hidden amongst the trees. The buildings were built along a road that made several switchbacks up the mountainside. People were milling about, tending to various chores, shopping, fixing, building, cleaning, and all other manner of things that must be done to live in such a place. White had let her mind rest as Zoola led her along, for she found that focusing on sound to make a mental image was tiring. But she didn’t need this extra sense to tell that people were watching her. She could feel the eyes gazing at her. Most of them continued about their business as they glanced at her, but a few stopped and watched.
Zoola led White through the town to her home. “Here we are, home sweet home.” White lifted her head listening. It was a small, two level home with a open air front porch on both levels. It looked very warm and inviting. She let her focus widen to encompass other homes along the road. Many of them looked similar, but a few were a bit larger.
Zoola led her into the house. “Tornen, we have company!” “Aye,” came a gruff voice from the back room, “We’ve always got company when you go for your walks.” A wolf-man, who appeared equally as gruff as his voice, stepped into the doorway, looking White up and down, “Welcome to our humble abode, ma’am.” “This is Tornen, my husband.” Zoola said, urging White further into the room. “Tor, this is miss White Hood.” Tornen shifted his weight. “How do you do, Tornen?” White asked with a slight nod of her head. “Quite well, ma’am, quite well. I am getting hungry, though.” “Right!” Zoola exclaimed, “I’ll get started on diner.” With that she hurried off to the kitchen. “Hood… that’s a strong name. The name of a strong man… an Agent. You wouldn’t happen to be a relation, would ya?” White shook her head, “No. In fact, White Hood is the name your wife gave me. You see… I don’t remember who I am. Or where I come from… or how I got here.” “Really? Well don’t you worry, miss White, it will come back to ya.” Tornen said as he stepped toward her, “Let me help you with your robe.” He held it as she pulled her arms free, then hung it on a hook beside the door. When he turned to face her again, he let out a low whistle, “Well, now I know not to cross you.”
“Why is that, Tornen?”
“You’re armed to the teeth, that’s why!”
White remembered the knives she had strapped to herself. “Oh, right…” She removed the ones on her wrists and ankles and held them out to Tornen, “Where can I put these?” Tornen took them and placed them on a shelf above the robe, “Right here. Would you like to hang your sword here, too?” White’s hand shot to the hilt of the blade, “No!” she quickly responded. Tornen held up his hands and stepped back, “Alright, miss, I was just offering.” White slowly lifted her hand from the hilt. “Sorry… I don’t know what came over me.” Tornen stepped around her to the table near the back of the room and sat down. White slowly followed him. “It’s alright, miss Hood, you can sit down.” Tornen said, looking up at her now uncovered face, “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t notice, here let me help you…” He started to get up. “No, no, I’m fine.” White replied calmly. She walked across the room and laid a hand on the back of an empty chair, then pulled it back and sat down. “Well, I’ll be. How’d you do that without seeing?” White smiled, pointing at her ears. “Really? How’s that?” Tornen asked, astonished. White shrugged, “I don’t know how I know how to do it, but I do.”
“What’s it like?”
“It’s like seeing with your eyes, only without color, or shadow or darkness. It takes focus and a lot of concentration.” Tornen nodded as she spoke, “I’ll bet.” Enchanting smells and content humming began to drift into White’s senses from the kitchen. The smell of food made her stomach growl again.
A clap of thunder cut through the quite mountain side. Rain began falling and heavily. White breathed in deeply the smell of the rain. The way it mixed with the smell of diner was quite relaxing. White could feel everything just fall away… all the worry, the doubt, the confusing thoughts that floated around her head… all of it just faded into the background. She began taking in the room, its various decorations and furnishings. It was quite obvious that it was not just a house, it was a home. This place was a part of Zoola and Tornen. Her attention fell on something hanging on the wall. A violin. White turned to Tornen, “Do you play?” she asked, indicating the instrument. Tornen turned to look, “Oh, no ma’am. When I touch that thing, the noises it makes would make your skin crawl. I gave that to Zoola as a birthday present. She takes it down from time to time and plays a little. She had always said she wanted to know how to play, but no one here knows how, so she’s had to teach herself.” White stood and carefully crossed the room to where the instrument hung on the wall. She gingerly ran her fingers along the strings. She lightly plucked one and its soft tone filled the room. “Feel free to play it, Zoola wouldn’t mind.” White turned to him, “Oh, no, I couldn’t. I don’t know how.” She came back to the table and sat down.
“So, Tornen, what do you and your wife do?” White asked, trying to avoid the awkward pauses that had been plaguing the conversation. Tornen chuckled, “Well, Zoola and I are teachers. We run a school for the local children. We enjoy every day. Those kids are always an adventure.” White was amazed, “Really? I never would have guessed.” Tornen nodded, “We opened that school only months after we got married. That was five years ago and we’re still goin’ strong, doing our best it ensure a better future.” White smiled, “That is a noble pursuit.” Tornen chuckled again. “Tornen!” Zoola called from the kitchen. “Right!” he called back, “Just a moment, White.” Tornen jumped up and quickly strode into the kitchen. Just after he went in, Zoola came out with bowls and spoons and quickly set the table. As soon as she finished, Tornen came back in, toting a soup pot. “Here we are! My famous spice soup!” Tornen placed the pot in the middle of the table then sat down. Zoola ladled out three large servings, one to each of them then took her place, across from her husband. All three of them wasted no time in starting. “Mmm… this is amazing. I must say that you spoke the truth, Zoola.” White exclaimed after swallowing her first spoon full. “What’s that?” Zoola asked. “You must be the best cook in the village.” Zoola smiled, “Thank you. I might teach you how to make it one day.” This made White smile. She wasn’t sure if she could cook, but to try sounded like fun.
The soup was both warming and filling, spicy and sweet. There was little talk as they ate because all of them were very hungry. Soon, the three of them sat at the table with three empty bowls, an empty soup pot, and full stomachs. “My dear, you have outdone yourself yet again.” Tornen said after sighing the kind of sigh one has after a filling meal. Zoola smiled, “I simply do the best I can.” Tornen pointed across the table at her, “That’s the secret.” He then pointed at White, “Remember this, always do your best, never less than that. You know why?” White thought for a moment. “Because if you always do your best, your best will become better.” Tornen smiled, “Very good, very good.” He then stood and collected all of the dishes into the soup pot and carried it back into the kitchen. White turned to Zoola, “Thank you for your kindness. If there is anything I can do to repay you…” “No, no, you are a guest here. You owe us nothing.” Zoola cut in, “You may stay as long as you need to. We have a spare room right over there where you can sleep.” she pointed to a door right beside the staircase. The mention of sleep made White realize how tired she was. It hit her quite suddenly. Her muscles became weak, like a heavy blanket had fallen on top of her. “Sleep sounds wonderful. I think I will go ahead and retire.” Zoola smiled, “Sleep well, White.” White nodded as Zoola stood and turned to the kitchen, “You too.”
White retrieved her things before going into her room. It was small, but had everything she would need. She hung her robe on a hook on the wall and propped her staff up next to it. She pulled her weapon belt free and hung it on the back of a chair that was pushed up under a desk beside the bed. She climbed onto the bed, on top of the covers. Zoola and Tornen’s voices drifted into the room. White couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but it didn’t bother her. She was too busy thinking of other things. The thoughts that swam about her were like pieces of a puzzle, or maybe even several puzzles. She was trying to piece them together to make sense of it all, but with nothing to guide her, it would be impossible to complete the picture. She slowly drifted off into a restful sleep with pleasant dreams.
White woke the following morning to find the house empty. She could hear the villagers beginning their day outside. On the table was a plate of breakfast. White quickly relieved it of its contents then retrieved her things from her room.
The ground was soft outside from all the rain the night before. The pads of White’s feet lightly sunk into the dirt and mud of the road as she strode along. A light breeze flowed past, causing the end of her robe to flutter softly around her ankles. A few villagers passed by her as they went about their business, some of them gave her a hearty “good morning” which she happily returned. She was passing a shop when she heard the owner cursing himself. “What did I do with it…” White stopped, turning to face the shop. Something compelled her to go inside, so she took the few steps into the shop. The shopkeeper was looking through drawers and cupboards. “I never take it off, where is it?!” the shopkeeper exclaimed as his search became more frantic. “What is it you are looking for?” White asked as she stood in the doorway watching him. The man jumped at the sound of her voice. “Oh… I’m sorry ma’am, you scared me. I’ve just lost a locket. It was my wife’s… it’s all I have left of her, save the memories. But I can’t find it.” White’s shoulders fell, “I’m sorry, sir… May I help you look?” The shopkeeper, looked her over. His eyes fell on the bandage over her eyes. After a moment, he said, “Well, if you’d like to.” She strode into the shop, her ears forming the image in her mind. “What is its shape?”
“It looks like a heart shaped…”
“Leaf about half the size of your palm?” White finished the sentence for him. The man was speechless, “Wha… how… Yes, but…” White held up a hand. “Wait…” She felt a pull, drawing her across the shop. Just before she reached the far wall, her foot hit a hallow section of floor. She crouched down and felt it. “Is this a cellar?” she asked. “Yes, it is.”
“What do you keep down there?”
“Surplus items and things that people don’t want to buy.”
“May I?” White asked as she found the handle.
“Of course, but please be careful, the ladder is steep.” White pulled the trap door open. The hole it revealed was dark, but White could see with ease. She carefully made her way down the ladder. Her foot hit the dirt floor. She crouched down and felt the ground between the ladder and the wall. Her fingers found cool metal. She lifted it and placed it in a pocket of her robe before climbing back up the ladder.
The shopkeeper’s shoulders sagged when she came up with empty hands. “I hadn’t looked down there yet… So it wasn’t there?” White pulled the object from her pocket and held it out. He snatched it from her, turning it over in his hand. He chuckled. “I have no idea who you are, or how you did that, but thank you.”
“You’re quite welcome, Mr…”
“Anolo, Folo Anolo, at your service.”
“A pleasure to meet you. They call me White Hood.”
Folo raised an eyebrow, “Ah, any relation to Agent Hood?”
“No, there’s no relation. White Hood is not my real name… I don’t remember my real name…”
“I see…well, miss White, you are always welcome in my shop. And if there is anything I can do for you, it would be an honor for you to ask it.”
“I would be grateful if you could direct me to Zoola and Tornen’s school.”
“Of course, come, I’ll take you.”
After locking up his store, Folo led White along the road through one of the switchbacks to a small wood building. The sound of children laughing came from the open front door. Folo bade her farewell then started back up the street to his shop, calling to her that he hoped to see her again in his shop.
White stepped into the doorway of the school. The children were sitting on the floor around their teachers. Zoola sat in a chair holding a book so the class could see it and Tornen was standing beside her, gesturing with his hands and acting out the story as he told it. The story told of a turtle and his family who had lost their home in a terrible storm. They were searching for a new place to live, but no matter what they did, no place would suit them and when they found a place that would work, something would happen to keep them from staying there. At the end of the story, the family realized that they had always been home because they had always been together and that was all they needed.
The class cheered and clapped as the story concluded. They began calling out for another story. “We’ll tell you another later, but first all of you have a test to take. Now, pull your desks back into rows.” A collective groan rose from the children. They slowly got up and did as they were told. Zoola spotted White in the doorway. “Good morning! Did you sleep well?” she said as she walked up to her. White smiled, “Yes, very well. I just came down to see your school.” “Well, come on in!” White stepped across the threshold as Zoola introduced her, “Class, this is miss White, she’s new here so let’s make her welcome!” All the children had turned to see. “Hello miss White!” they said in unison. “Hello, children.” She replied, smiling. Zoola led her to a chair in the front of the room. White sat down as Zoola and Tornen passed the test out to the children.
About a half an hour later, they had all finished and Zoola had begun a lesson on the history of the Land of Zargon. She would often stop and ask the class a question about what happened next. Most of the time, several hands would raise and the selected child would answer, usually correctly. When Zoola concluded the history lesson, it was time for lunch. Many of the children left to go home for lunch, but several stayed to eat with their friends. Zoola, Tornen, and White sat with them and ate. A tiny skrieve girl sat in the chair next to White, swinging her legs as she ate. She stared up at White, only taking her eyes off her to take a bite of her lunch. “Why do you wear that over your eyes, miss White?” White looked down at the little one and smiled, “Because I can’t see.”
The little girl laughed, “Well of course you can’t see with that on!”
“No, no, I can’t see, so I wear this to protect my eyes.”
“Ooooh…” the little girl looked down at the floor and fell silent. “I’m sorry.” She said, not looking up. White looked down at her, confused, “Sorry for what?” The girl looked up at her, “I’m sorry you can’t see…” White smiled, “You’ve no need to be sorry, little one. What’s your name?”
“Lona.”
“That is a beautiful name.” White’s comment made Lona smile. “I like your name, too.” White returned the child’s smile. Soon the other children began returning from their break. When the last of them was back in their desk, Tornen began a short lesson in mathematics. Then a lesson in reading and writing. And to finish the day, he did as promised and pulled out the story book. The children quickly pushed the desks out away from the center of the room. They sat as they had before while Tornen and Zoola readied themselves to tell the story. White pulled a chair up behind the crowd of children so she listen more carefully. Just before the story began, something began tugging on her robe. She looked down to find Lona. White leaned down close to her and Lona whispered, “Can I sit in your lap, I can’t see from back here…” White smiled, “Of course.” She picked the little one up and placed her in her lap. “That’s a pretty ring, Where’d you get it?” Lona asked in a whisper. White had forgotten about the ring. She didn’t want to have to explain to the child that she didn’t know where it came from, so she told her what she thought was the most likely. “A friend gave it to me. A friend I haven’t seen in a long time. Be quiet now, Lona. Listen to the story.” The little one nodded as she turned to watch Tornen act out the story.
When it was over, Zoola dismissed the children so they could go home. White waved goodbye to Lona as she walked up the street toward home. White smiled as she watched the children go. White, Zoola, and Tornen cleaned the school room and moved the desks back into rows before closing and locking the door and heading home themselves. White soon found herself sitting at the table as Zoola and Tornen started diner. Her gaze fell on the violin. She couldn’t tear her attention away from the instrument.
“Just try to play it.” Tornen’s voice startled her. “But I don’t know…” Tornen cut in, “How do you know that you don’t know. Who knows? It could help you remember.” White nodded, slowly getting to her feet. She crossed the room to where the instrument hung. She gently took it down and placed it under her chin. She lifted the bow from its hook and laid it across the strings. She hesitantly drew it across the strings. The instrument released a terrible shrill noise. White cringed. The failure, however, made her more determined. She placed the bow in the same place and pulled it confidently across the strings. The note started as a weak wine, but ended as a full rich tone. She began pulling the bow back and forth across the strings, her fingers moving along the violin’s neck, pressing the strings. With each pass of the bow, the notes were richer and fuller. White began stringing notes together. Soon a song flowed forth from the violin, one that conveyed a mood of happiness. The tempo began to pick up and a small smile spread across White’s face. The progression of the song went from fast and happy, to solemn and slow, to flowing and inspirational.
White drew the bow across the strings in one final, prolonged note that she let die away. Tornen was nodding, “See?” Zoola was standing next to her husband in the door of the kitchen. “That was amazing, White!” White lowered her head, smiling. She carefully replaced the instrument to its place on the wall, and then turned to face Zoola, “Would you let me teach you? To thank you for your kindness.” Zoola was taken back, “No, no that’s alright. You don’t have… I… I would like that very much… I’ve always wanted to know how to play!” White smiled, “As soon as we finish eating we will begin.”
The three of them ate and then sat in the arm chairs placed around the fireplace for the lesson. Zoola already understood the basics of how to play, so they quickly moved on to more complicated notes and ideas involved in playing the violin. Tornen sat and watched, smiling to himself, quite glad to see his wife happy.
And so, White established a routine. She would rise in the morning, when Zoola and Tornen did, and eat breakfast with them. Then, she would sometimes go to Folo’s shop to help him, other times she would go to the school, and still other times she would go exploring the forest. In the evenings, she would eat with her hosts and then sit down with Zoola to continue her violin lessons. The news of how White helped Folo find the locket spread through town and people would occasionally seek her out for help. Every time, she would find what they were looking for, though it would sometimes take more than a day for her to find it. The people of the village gave her a nickname that quickly stuck; “The Seer of Lost Things” or “the Seer” for short.
This pattern continued for a little over a week. On one morning, as White was walking to the school, she heard the ring of steel, a battle, blade on blade. She quickly followed the sound to find a ring of men cheering as two more men fought each other. They both held swords and were circling each other. One would lunge forward, the other would block. White pushed her way into the circle, listening to the fight. One of the men swung wide, but the other caught his wrist and brought the point of his blade up to the swinger’s throat. The swinger went limp, “Yield.” He stated. The other released him and the beaten warrior backed away. The crowd cheered. The victory slowly turned taking in the glory. He raised his arms, nodding his head. His gaze fell on White. “Well, what have we here? A new combatant!” White looked about, confused. “If you stand within the ring with a weapon, you are welcoming a fight.” White shook her head, “I was only observing.” A smirk spread across the man’s face, “I knew you’d be afraid.” All the emotion drained from White’s face. “What is your name, brave warrior?” she asked, with a sarcastic tone. “Grood.” White thrust her staff into the ground then removed her robe and hung it over the top end of the staff. The men in the ring began to chuckle. White slowly drew her sword as she stepped toward Grood. She stood, quite relaxed with her arm extended, and her blade pointed toward Grood. His face turned quite serious as he looked her over, the knives, the sword, and the bandage over her eyes. “I’m sorry, miss, I didn’t know you were…” “What’s the matter, Grood? Afraid of being beaten by a blind woman?” White asked, coolly. Grood growled. With a sudden movement, he swung his blade at White. The world fell silent as the clash of steel rang through the air. Grood’s eyes were large as he stood; his sword pressed against White’s, which, in a blink of an eye, had moved to block the strike. White gave a quick shove with her sword, pushing Grood backwards, then swung her blade. Grood just barely recovered in time to block. They began to circle on another. Each would lash out at the other, trying to catch the other by surprise. They exchanged blows in this manner for almost a minute. Grood grew tired of toying with the blind woman; he was going to end it. He suddenly brought his blade up high over his head and swung with all his strength, bringing the blade down onto his opponent. But White was too fast. She simply stepped forward, grabbing his blade hand. She delivered a powerful kick to Grood’s chest, knocking him backwards. As he began to fall, he lost his grip on his sword and its handle gently falling into White’s grasp. Grood landed on his back with a thud. Before he could move, he felt cold steel on either side of his throat. White had driven the blades into the ground in such a way that they cross each other over Grood’s throat and their cutting edges were just touching the sides of his neck. White casually placed a foot on top of his chest and stood looking down at him, waiting. Grood could tell from the look on her face she was waiting for his yield. He grabbed the grips of both blades and tried to pull them free, but they had been trust deep into the ground and the angle from which he pulled made his strength useless. White crouched down close to his face, a small smile was just visible at the corners of her mouth. Grood sighed, “Yield.” White nodded, pulling her blade free and lifting her foot off of her opponent. She wiped the dirt off the sword’s tip as she waited for Grood to get to his feet and free his sword from the ground. The men in the ring had been silent throughout the fight. A couple of them chuckled as they watched Grood slowly get back to his feet, brushing the dirt off his clothes. “It appears I underestimate you, Miss White.” White’s smile widened, “At least you are man enough to admit you are wrong.” All the men laughed at the comment, even Grood.
“How about a rematch? No weapons, nothing but our own speed, strength and skill!” Grood exclaimed. White paused the cleaning of her blade and turned to look him in the face. She lowered the blade, releasing it tip first into the ground. She undid her weapon belt and laid it across the crosstree of her sword. Then, she pulled the knives from their sheaths on her wrists and threw them down at her feet. She knelt and freed her last two knives from their places at her ankles and stabbed them into the ground as well. She pulled the belt off her shoulder that held the two bladed weapon to her back and laid it on the ground.
White stepped forward with nothing but herself. Grood had moved his sword while he waited and was now standing casually, waiting for her to be ready. When she stepped forward, he shifted his feet, altering his stance so that he was half turned toward her; he lifted his fists and prepared to fight. White stood straight and tall facing Grood head on, one foot forward, her hands were open and relaxed. White was breathing deeply, “Ready?” Grood nodded, “Aye.” He began inching forward, bouncing slightly on his feet. He began to circle White, but she stayed as she was. Grood continued circling and getting closer until he was just out of her reach. He stopped directly behind her and threw the first punch. White twisted her torso to dodge the blow and caught his wrist. Grood threw another punch, but this time, White couldn’t move to dodge. The blow landed squarely on her shoulder blade. Pain lanced through her shoulder and she winced. She twisted Grood’s arm in retaliation, causing him to turn just enough that she could kick him in the back of the knee, forcing him to go down onto that knee. With a quick twist, she had Grood’s arm pinned to his back and twisted in such a way to cause him pain. She forced him to his feet, fully expecting him to yield, but once his was on his feet, he simply stood there. Just as White started to speak, Grood suddenly dropped to the ground, pulling her with him. The suddenness of the move caused her grip to loosen just enough that Grood could twist and throw his free arm around behind her head and get her into a powerful headlock. They struggled on the ground, kicking up a cloud of dirt, trying to free themselves without compromising their hold on the other. White held on tightly, but could feel her grip beginning to slip as Grood furiously tugged, trying to break free. With one powerful yank, her hold failed and Grood’s arm was free. He immediately elbowed her in the side. He then raised his free arm high over his head in a fist and the men in the circle cheered as he slowly turned with White’s head locked in his arm. “So, miss White, are you going to yield?” Grood asked in a mocking tone as he looked down at the back of her head. White responded by twisting in his grip so she faced the sky instead of the ground, the same just visible smile she had had earlier on her face. With a mighty jump, she flipped up over Grood, who lost his grip and balance. White twisted in the air so that she was facing Grood as she came down. She hadn’t even landed yet when her foot landed firmly on Grood’s chest, throwing him backwards. She landed in a half crouch, watching him. Grood was flat on his back, spread eagle. He coughed violently as he started to rub the spot where the kick had landed. He sat up in a daze, shaking his head to try to clear the fog. White stood and strode over to him, offering her hand. He looked up at her, blinking. He grabbed her hand and she pulled him to his feet. As soon as he regained his footing, he spun White by the arm and held her in such a way that her own arm was around her neck. He was about to grab her free arm, but she was too quick. Her elbow found his kidney, causing him to double over in pain. White spun around and slammed her interlocked fists down onto Grood’s back, knocking him to the ground, face first. She put a foot on his shoulder and grabbed his arm, lifting it as high as she could. Grood began to laugh weakly, “You’re pretty good, White. I’ll give ya that. But I won’t yield this time.” White smiled and pulled on his arm a bit more, applying more pressure to the joint. Grood howled in pain, “I won’t!” She applied more pressure and the pitch of the howl increased.
White was impressed, Grood laid there with his grimacing face in the dirt for well over a minute, but in the end, the agonizing pain of the way she twisted his arm won out. “YIELD!” he shouted. White slowly lowered his arm so that Grood would not endure the pain of having his overextended muscles suddenly stretched the opposite way. She gently helped him to his feet and they stood facing each other as Grood rubbed his arm with a look of anger and rage on his face. He closed his eyes and sighed; the anger faded. He held out his hand as he opened his eyes, White took it, and they shook. “It was an honor, Grood. You are truly a powerful warrior.” A hint of a smile crept onto Grood’s face, “’Twas an honor to fight you as well, Miss White.” The two of them turn and began gathering up their things. White whipped her knives off on her pant leg before sliding them into their scabbards. She pulled her weapon belts back on and fastened them just loose enough. Then she pulled her sword free from the dirt and whipped it’s blade.
“Now if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I have business to attend to.” White said as she slid her sword back into it’s scabbard. She pulled on her robe and gave her staff a stiff jerk, freeing it from the ground. She continued the way she had been going, toward the school, to help Zoola and Tornen with the school children. The rest of the day passed as the others had, except for the amazement Zoola and Tornen showed over diner as White told of the event. Zoola had come a long way in her musical talent. She was quickly approaching a level that White felt she wouldn’t be able to teach her anything else.
At the conclusion of the lesson, White bade goodnight to her hosts and retired to her room. As she lay on the bed, she began pondering who she was again, as she had every night. A few of the pieces had fallen together, some faces, some names, some places, but she couldn’t tell how any of them were related. She felt the ring that was still wrapped around her finger, wondering what it meant… marriage? Friendship? Was someone out there waiting for her? Had someone died, someone she swore she would never forget? These questions had plagued her mind every night, and they were simply maddening. What she would give to talk to someone who had known her. She stretched her arm, rubbing her shoulder where Grood had landed his blow, the muscles were tense, but the pain was gone. “Will I ever remember?” she asked aloud, almost hoping someone would answer. Her swimming thoughts soon gave way to dreams, but they were strange dreams of a wolfman wrapped in a tattered cloak, traveling across the country; of a grogowen in a tournament who is defeated and losses his hand; of a dragon asleep in her cave home; and of a book without words. There were voices that spoke to her throughout the dream, but she couldn't make them out. Then came a voice that spoke clearly and distinctly, "The travelers, young one, the travelers..."