[Lost Odyssey] Safe (Kaim, Sarah)
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rose_in_winterCharacters/Pairings: Kaim, Sarah
Rating: G
Contains: Minor spoilers for character backstory; you're good past Disc 2.
Notes: Written for 2010 Yuletide.
Wordcount: 1341
Summary: When war comes to the sleepy village of Tosca, Sarah steps forward to defend it, and finds more than she expected.
Beta: None
Sarah is teaching the village children to read when word comes that a Khentish army, supplemented by mercenaries, has been seen approaching Tosca. She finishes the day's lessons, and goes to find the elder. She knows her help will be needed to defend the village, and though she rarely uses her skills in combat, she would do anything to keep this quiet place safe.
They must be trying to get to Ghotza, for Tosca has little to offer in the way of treasure. Their mines produce coal and stone, not gold and jewels. It is possible they will simply pass by the sleepy little mountain village, but it does not do to be unprepared.
The men of the village have already gathered, many still sweaty and dirty from their work in the mines. The Elder, a man but newly promoted to his position, is uncomfortable at the idea of military action, though many of the younger men want to fight. They are discussing possible outcomes at the tops of their voices. Sarah stands in the doorway, her hands folded in front of her, and waits them out.
"I may have a solution," she says, when at last the shouting winds down.
She's been here long enough that they don't automatically ignore her, and her somewhat mystical status as the sorceress of the village ensures that they actually listen.
"Build rockfalls of some of the stone that's come out of the mines but hasn't been used for building yet," she says. "I can trigger them with a spell. Also, prepare some kettles of snowmelt. Some, we'll dump cold to discourage them, and others I'll light a fire beneath if they need discouragement at the very gates of the village. Only if it comes right down to it need anyone from the village fight—and I can heal most wounds you would take."
"Where did you learn how to wage war?" one of the middle-aged men asks her, seeming astounded. She was present at his birth. "I've never seen you leave the village for long."
She thinks of Kaim, his expression serious as he worked on maps of the engagements he'd been in, trying to reconstruct all the possibilities. She hasn't seen him in almost fifty years. "I knew someone who was a skilled warrior," she says softly. "He taught me how to defend myself and those whom I would protect."
"Let's do as Sarah says," the Elder says. "We do not want to sacrifice any lives."
Some of the youngest men, the ones without wives and children, protest his decision, but the Elder holds firm. Sarah slips out quietly, leaving them to vent their frustrations, and starts the long walk back to her house. There are items she'll need, like her staff, to best protect the village.
All hands are called to action, and it's not long at all before everything is in readiness. The villagers construct something to serve as a barrier across the fork in the road that leads up to Tosca. They are ready, or at least as ready as a peaceful little village can be when faced with the threat of war.
The Khentish army sings as they march, and Sarah watches them. She knows how to differentiate the regulars from the mercenaries; it's not just the matching armour and the uniforms, but also the attitude. Too many of the army are young men who think they'll make a difference and earn glory for themselves and their families. The mercenaries are harder.
At first she thinks that they will have done all this for nothing, and that the army will pass them by, but one of the captains must not like the sight of the village. He calls for a mercenary unit, and orders them to attack the village. "Carry off anything we can use, and burn the rest," he orders.
Some of the mercenaries protest indistinctly, but Sarah's heard enough. She gestures the villagers back, and grips her staff tightly in her hands.
Spells are so much harder here than in her own world, but she catches the thin and wavering threads of magic energy and builds a sturdy lattice, weaving them between her fingers until they are strong as steel, the pattern for a Ground spell. If she wanted Flare or Aqua or Wind, she would weave in different patterns, more flexible ones. She holds the spell between her hands, grateful it's earth magic and not fire or wind. Earth is the easiest to hold by far.
The army marches on, and the mercenaries come up to the barrier. She reads reluctance in their steps, but it doesn't matter. When the last of them has cleared the correct spot, she will trap them with stone, pound them with water, and sear them with fire. Nothing will hurt this village.
Their leader marches in front of them, something she has been told is rare in fighting. Most leaders direct from the back, to be better protected.
"Stop!" she calls out. "This village has done you no harm, and if you wish only to pass through to Ghotza, you can do so through the Black Cave. Do not trouble us. We wish only to be left in peace."
"And what will you do if we don't?" one of the mercenaries calls out derisively, only to be silenced by a curt gesture from their leader.
"We have our orders," another mercenary says uncertainly.
Sarah thinks it through quickly. She tries to avoid using magic to aid the village's crops so they won't depend on her too much, but she could make an exception this year, and help them bring in a second harvest. It's early enough in spring that she could bring the first crop to ripen in a month, and leave time to plant a second. "If we offered you supplies, so that you could claim to have collected things of use to the army, would you go without harming us?"
The first mercenary laughs, but the leader gestures for silence again.
"This is a poor mountain village," he says, and she knows that voice. Her heart beats harder. "I imagine there would be little to take from it, especially this early in spring, before the crops are in. Give us enough to make a show, and we will leave you in peace."
The angry mercenary utters an expletive that makes Sarah glad she sent the children away, and draws his sword and swings at the leader's back. His comrades kill him before his swing connects, and the leader steps aside. When he pushes back his helmet, Sarah sees that she was right.
"Thank you, Kaim," she says.
He smiles, just a little. "I have fond memories of this place," he says.
"I'll get your supplies," Sarah says. He nods.
The village Elder isn't pleased by the agreement, but he acquiesces when Sarah assures him that they won't go hungry for this bargain. The villagers assemble sacks of root vegetables and grains, and the men of middling years carry them for her. Sarah asks for it to be so; they have families, and won't charge headlong into foolishness.
The mercenaries take the food. A few of them catch Sarah's eye intentionally and drop a handful of coins on the ground for her to pick up later. It's a nice thought, though the villagers get by mostly on barter, but it might help them bring in some extra from villages in the lowlands to cover the hungry months in spring.
Kaim waves his men ahead, and they go. He tarries a bit longer by the barricade. "I would not have hurt them," he says.
"I know," Sarah replies.
"When this is over, in the fall—" He hesitates. "May I come see you?"
"I would like that." The smile isn't so hard this time.
He nods, and walks away, as he always does. Sarah watches him go, and then goes to pick up the coins that the mercenaries left. The village is safe, and that is what matters most.
Rating: G
Contains: Minor spoilers for character backstory; you're good past Disc 2.
Notes: Written for 2010 Yuletide.
Wordcount: 1341
Summary: When war comes to the sleepy village of Tosca, Sarah steps forward to defend it, and finds more than she expected.
Beta: None
Sarah is teaching the village children to read when word comes that a Khentish army, supplemented by mercenaries, has been seen approaching Tosca. She finishes the day's lessons, and goes to find the elder. She knows her help will be needed to defend the village, and though she rarely uses her skills in combat, she would do anything to keep this quiet place safe.
They must be trying to get to Ghotza, for Tosca has little to offer in the way of treasure. Their mines produce coal and stone, not gold and jewels. It is possible they will simply pass by the sleepy little mountain village, but it does not do to be unprepared.
The men of the village have already gathered, many still sweaty and dirty from their work in the mines. The Elder, a man but newly promoted to his position, is uncomfortable at the idea of military action, though many of the younger men want to fight. They are discussing possible outcomes at the tops of their voices. Sarah stands in the doorway, her hands folded in front of her, and waits them out.
"I may have a solution," she says, when at last the shouting winds down.
She's been here long enough that they don't automatically ignore her, and her somewhat mystical status as the sorceress of the village ensures that they actually listen.
"Build rockfalls of some of the stone that's come out of the mines but hasn't been used for building yet," she says. "I can trigger them with a spell. Also, prepare some kettles of snowmelt. Some, we'll dump cold to discourage them, and others I'll light a fire beneath if they need discouragement at the very gates of the village. Only if it comes right down to it need anyone from the village fight—and I can heal most wounds you would take."
"Where did you learn how to wage war?" one of the middle-aged men asks her, seeming astounded. She was present at his birth. "I've never seen you leave the village for long."
She thinks of Kaim, his expression serious as he worked on maps of the engagements he'd been in, trying to reconstruct all the possibilities. She hasn't seen him in almost fifty years. "I knew someone who was a skilled warrior," she says softly. "He taught me how to defend myself and those whom I would protect."
"Let's do as Sarah says," the Elder says. "We do not want to sacrifice any lives."
Some of the youngest men, the ones without wives and children, protest his decision, but the Elder holds firm. Sarah slips out quietly, leaving them to vent their frustrations, and starts the long walk back to her house. There are items she'll need, like her staff, to best protect the village.
All hands are called to action, and it's not long at all before everything is in readiness. The villagers construct something to serve as a barrier across the fork in the road that leads up to Tosca. They are ready, or at least as ready as a peaceful little village can be when faced with the threat of war.
The Khentish army sings as they march, and Sarah watches them. She knows how to differentiate the regulars from the mercenaries; it's not just the matching armour and the uniforms, but also the attitude. Too many of the army are young men who think they'll make a difference and earn glory for themselves and their families. The mercenaries are harder.
At first she thinks that they will have done all this for nothing, and that the army will pass them by, but one of the captains must not like the sight of the village. He calls for a mercenary unit, and orders them to attack the village. "Carry off anything we can use, and burn the rest," he orders.
Some of the mercenaries protest indistinctly, but Sarah's heard enough. She gestures the villagers back, and grips her staff tightly in her hands.
Spells are so much harder here than in her own world, but she catches the thin and wavering threads of magic energy and builds a sturdy lattice, weaving them between her fingers until they are strong as steel, the pattern for a Ground spell. If she wanted Flare or Aqua or Wind, she would weave in different patterns, more flexible ones. She holds the spell between her hands, grateful it's earth magic and not fire or wind. Earth is the easiest to hold by far.
The army marches on, and the mercenaries come up to the barrier. She reads reluctance in their steps, but it doesn't matter. When the last of them has cleared the correct spot, she will trap them with stone, pound them with water, and sear them with fire. Nothing will hurt this village.
Their leader marches in front of them, something she has been told is rare in fighting. Most leaders direct from the back, to be better protected.
"Stop!" she calls out. "This village has done you no harm, and if you wish only to pass through to Ghotza, you can do so through the Black Cave. Do not trouble us. We wish only to be left in peace."
"And what will you do if we don't?" one of the mercenaries calls out derisively, only to be silenced by a curt gesture from their leader.
"We have our orders," another mercenary says uncertainly.
Sarah thinks it through quickly. She tries to avoid using magic to aid the village's crops so they won't depend on her too much, but she could make an exception this year, and help them bring in a second harvest. It's early enough in spring that she could bring the first crop to ripen in a month, and leave time to plant a second. "If we offered you supplies, so that you could claim to have collected things of use to the army, would you go without harming us?"
The first mercenary laughs, but the leader gestures for silence again.
"This is a poor mountain village," he says, and she knows that voice. Her heart beats harder. "I imagine there would be little to take from it, especially this early in spring, before the crops are in. Give us enough to make a show, and we will leave you in peace."
The angry mercenary utters an expletive that makes Sarah glad she sent the children away, and draws his sword and swings at the leader's back. His comrades kill him before his swing connects, and the leader steps aside. When he pushes back his helmet, Sarah sees that she was right.
"Thank you, Kaim," she says.
He smiles, just a little. "I have fond memories of this place," he says.
"I'll get your supplies," Sarah says. He nods.
The village Elder isn't pleased by the agreement, but he acquiesces when Sarah assures him that they won't go hungry for this bargain. The villagers assemble sacks of root vegetables and grains, and the men of middling years carry them for her. Sarah asks for it to be so; they have families, and won't charge headlong into foolishness.
The mercenaries take the food. A few of them catch Sarah's eye intentionally and drop a handful of coins on the ground for her to pick up later. It's a nice thought, though the villagers get by mostly on barter, but it might help them bring in some extra from villages in the lowlands to cover the hungry months in spring.
Kaim waves his men ahead, and they go. He tarries a bit longer by the barricade. "I would not have hurt them," he says.
"I know," Sarah replies.
"When this is over, in the fall—" He hesitates. "May I come see you?"
"I would like that." The smile isn't so hard this time.
He nods, and walks away, as he always does. Sarah watches him go, and then goes to pick up the coins that the mercenaries left. The village is safe, and that is what matters most.