Hand of Fire (The Master of the Tane) by Thomas Rath Page B

in her way so she tried to maintain the edge to her voice and the fire in her eyes.
                  Soon, the dwarf’s shadow reappeared in the mist like a ghost at its haunts before his body suddenly solidified as he stepped from the thick haze. Without a word, she took the tender, white pedals and laid them across the wound and then covered them with a poultice she had made of crushed feverfew and goose down mixed with her own spit.
                  The dwarf watched dumbly, still unsure of his place while regretting his actions towards her as he observed how tenderly she treated his friend. “Will he pull through? I mean, it’s just a scratch right? He’ll be fine, right? Not daft or nothin’, right?”
                  Rani looked up at the concerned look spread across the rugged dwarf’s face and found she could no longer hold her angry expression. “It’s hard to say at this point. He took quite a hard hit to be out for so long. Time will only answer your questions I’m afraid. The poultice should help quite a bit though.”
                  The dwarf gazed at his friend’s pale face and swallowed hard. “They’re called orcs,” he finally said trying to hide the emotion in his voice.
                  Rani fixed her eyes upon him wondering if he hadn’t also sustained a head injury. “What?”
                  He glanced up and smiled slightly at her concerned expression. “Those ‘things’, I believe ye called ‘em. They’re orcs. Ugly bunch of heartless dross. They infest these forests. Followed me and Bardolf here for half the night ‘fore they built up the courage to attack.” The dwarf paused for a brief moment and then rushed on. “Me name be Helgar Axegrinder. I thank ye for yer help this mornin’ with the orcs and Bardolf here and hope ye will forgive me me over caution.”
                  Rani stared at his rough-cut features, as sharp as the rock that surrounded his mountain home. She peered deeply into his clear, blue eyes finding a tender and sincere heart buried beneath the hardened appearance of his exterior and smiled. “No harm done,” she said softly.
                  Helgar coughed uncomfortably, suddenly feeling foolish. “Well then, that be fine little missy. Just fine.” He fidgeted about for a moment as if not quite sure where his hands should go and then he quickly turned about. “Well, I guess I ought to be cleaning this mess up b’fore the flies overrun us with their buzzin’ and bitin’.”
                  Rani glanced at the gruesome remains strewn across the bridge. “Yes, thank you.” Then as an afterthought she added, “My name is Rani.”
                  Helgar paused long enough to bow dramatically. “It indeed be a pleasure, lass.”
                  Rani smiled at his sudden show of formality. “Please don’t lose my darts. Oh, and be careful not to prick yourself with them.”
                  Helgar just nodded as he commenced to heft the orc corpses over the side of the bridge and into the quiet waters below. Rani busied herself trying to make Bardolf as comfortable as possible and then sat and watched as Helgar finished his unpleasant task. The fog began to clear, quickly dissipating in the warming rays of the rising sun as it crested the tall trees promising another hot day.
                  Rani produced some hard bread and dried fruit from her pack. “Have you eaten yet?” she asked as Helgar approached, wiping the orcs blood on his trousers.
                  “I be famished little lassie!” he roared reaching eagerly for a piece of bread.
                  Rani raised her hand to stop him. “And what do you think you are doing?”
                  Helgar stopped suddenly, his mouth agape. “Ye did offer some of them vittles now didn’t ye,