Fiction

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In the dim light of a single lantern, a lean man stood in front of an entire village, crowded into the local tavern.
"I have not come today to harangue you about my people's position, nor to call you freaks. I have come on my knees with deepest sincerity to ask if you will join with us, those of you who are of use to our cause, to ask if you will help us for the greater good of mankind. We fight for the lost, we fight for the hopeless, we fight for the enslaved. I ask as a man to fellow men, which among you will honor us with your gifts?"
The words resonated around the dimly lit room. The floorboards vibrated gently as the whole village shifted uneasily in their chairs. The speaker held the lantern higher searching the crowd, looking for any sign of hope in the averted faces.
"Who among you will aid us?"
The door flew open behind the village and cold swept through the room. Silhouetted by the freezing drafts of snow, a lone woman stood with her chin held high. Entering into the shadows around the door, she calmly lowered her hood, and let her copper hair gently reflect the lantern.
"I will."
A hush fell over the village people. Into the light walked the beautiful woman. Her pearly skin radiated underneath her waves of long hair. Below perfectly arched eyebrows, a pair of daring, green eyes faced the speaker head on.
"I will go."
She stood feet apart, arms akimbo, open to the scrutiny of her people. The speaker assessed her and noted the hard muscles hidden beneath her soft skin.
"What can you offer us, warrior-woman?"
She lifted her chin defiantly.
"I bring healing, and a sharp blade."
"A sharp blade is nothing without sharp wits."
"Wits can only be proven by fools. Wisdom is what you search for."
The man stared hard into her face for a long while and then held out his hand. She shook it firmly.
"You will be remembered in the ballads, woman. The first to answer our plea for freedom."
"Pretty words, man. But, I do not come for the glory, I come to thwart a force that if left alone could endanger all that I hold dear."
"Welcome to the Rovers."
The woman nodded, and moved to stand behind him.
The man faced the crowd again.
"Please, allow me to beg with you once more. Find it somewhere within you to answer our call. Somewhere in your hearts, you know you would wish our people to do the same for you. And, I promise, we will honor your help. This time will not be forgotten in our history. Our children's children will say your tribal name with respect, as the ones who rescued us from our folly."
A tall and unnaturally thin man stepped forward.
"You have my pledge, dear sir. And when my family calls for your aid, I expect you to give it as I give my aid now."
"What do you bring?"
"I have naught but a weapon, and a heart to answer your summons."
"That is accepted without hesitation, my good man."
The thin man joined the copper-haired woman, and they exchanged a look of understanding.
Slowly, out of the crowd, strong men and women stepped forward one by one. They offered swords, quivers, staffs, and raw strength. As the crowd began to thin out, more people wound up behind the speaker.
"Mirrian!"
The speaker jumped.
"Mirrian, no!"
A beast of a man entered the tavern, his large black hands cradling a sleeping infant. His distressed eyes scanned the room until they lit upon the copper haired woman. He lumbered up to her, his soul in his eyes.
"You cannot leave us, Mirrian."
The woman slowly lifted her eyes to the man's.
"You have had your work, too, Jericho, you have risked yourself to keep us safe. Now it is my turn, I cannot stand aside and let them come to us. I will protect our son."
She looked down to the infant. The woman reached out a snow-white hand and cradled the child's olive cheek before running her fingers through his dark, curly hair.
"Then let me go, too. Anything, but Mirrian, do not leave me. You read the charts, you saw the stars, they say you might not..." the man's voice broke, "you might..."
"No." Her refusal came from deep in her bones.
The man painstakingly reached out a dark hand to caress her chiseled face. A tear rolled down the lady's white cheek.
"Take care of our son." She reached up and grabbed the front of her husband's shirt. "Remember..." she paused the words stuck in her throat, "remember..."
The man slowly straightened, his features gradually became determined. He held the child tighter. With one hand, he captured the lady's waist, and pulled her into him. Slowly, delicately, he brushed her lips with his own. Then, looking into her face, a sob ripped unbidden from his throat, and he kissed her passionately. The woman held onto him with the strength of a tiger.
The man pulled away first.
"Go with all you are, fight with all you have, and when all else fails, remember me."
The lady shone under the blessing of his words.
"Watch the stars, I will be home soon."
The black man ran one finger up and down her jawline before turning and leaving with their infant in his arms. The door closed.
The woman turned to the speaker, her mouth grim.
"We are ready."

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