It happened slowly, in hushed murmurs. Then it rose in volume little by little, picking up momentum until the sounds of cheering were thunderous, drowning out the crackle of a village on fire.
The Mud Village was free. Their oppressors dead or driven from town. Few could scarcely believe it, but it was true.
And there, at the foot of the castle was the body to prove it.
***
In the once-lord Zarik’s quarters of the Mud Castle, Sly and two other village women moved with purpose as they chopped herbs and roots or crushed seeds in pestles. A table in the far end of the room had been cleared for the purpose, and several bags of flour, horseradish roots, linseeds, and other ingredients were strewn about haphazardly. The girls’ brows were furrowed in concentration as they worked diligently to follow Sly’s instructions exactly.
On the other side of the room, a gentle but firm hand lifted Johan’s head and placed it on a soft cushion.
“Quit fussin’ over meh, me lady,” Johan said weakly. “Tis nothing but a flesh wound.”
“I ain’t yer lady, ol’ man,” said Marie, who still wore her cooking apron, though now it was soaked with Johan’s blood. “And quit tryin’ to move around as if yeh dinnae have a sword sticking outa yer chest.”
Johan creeped one of his eyes open and his smile widened to regard the warm brown eyes of his favorite cook. Then shut it again. He lay on his side, one hand touching gingerly at Marie’s hands which were pressed against the flesh just under his sternum where the sword had pierced him. A hand-and-a-half of black blade protruded from his lower back.
“Keep adding pressure evenly and dontcha dare let up even for a second,” said Marie to the girl at Johan’s back. Her voice was stern and sure, but her eyes were filled with water and worry.
“What cha… doing ‘ere, Marie? It’s dangerous. Go back… to the cellar.” His eyes were closed and his breathing ragged, but he still wore a goofy smile despite his pain.
She did not risk taking her hands away to wipe her tears. She wished she could wipe away the sticky hair from the half dwarf’s damp forehead.
“The fighting’s done, silly,” Marie said, choking back her tears. “Yeh defeated Lord Zarik. We won... No, you won. Jes’ like ye promised. Yer lady’s over there preparing something to make you right as rain. So jes keep still and everything will be jes’ fine.”
The lord of Mudalal had been a trained combatant, much more so than an amateur ex-adventurer like Johan, who never received formal training in the martial arts. Johan’s method of fighting mobs of monsters had always been to exercise trickery, which had worked out alright against Zarik, all things considered.
Surprise, a fistful of chili powder to the face, luck, and a blatant disregard for his personal safety had all resulted in a close contest where Sly and Johan emerged victorious.
The final exchange had come at great cost, however.
After employing his chili powder trump card, Johan bet it all on one swing of his mace to Zarik’s head. The head of his mace was heavy, silver-plated steel. It had once been deployed against a rogue werewolf. It proved just as effective at crushing the temporarily blinded lord’s skull.
The Lord of Mudalal castle, despite his superior training, had been surprised for the umpteenth time that night by a shock of spices to the face. He inhaled the powder, was overwhelmed by the urge to hack and cough, and even though he could not stop himself from closing his eyes and coughing, he kept his wits.
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When Johan activated one of his few martial skills, crushing charge, Zarik had already guessed his intention. Zarik took two steps back then suddenly activated lunge, bringing his sword forward. The combination resulted in Johan being run-through like a rushing horseman against an entrenched pike.
It was a testament to Johan’s dwarvish stubbornness that despite having received a lethal blow, he committed to his attack.
Despite the gap in their levels, receiving the full might of Johan’s mace to his unprotected forehead was too much for Lord Zarik’s skull to endure.
It cracked like an egg.
His head whipped back and forward like a bobble toy on a trucker’s dashboard in another world.
Zarik let go of his sword and flailed about jerkily, no longer in control of his limbs as blood gushed from his eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. He made a gurgling snort that could almost be confused with a disbelieving laugh. Then he stumbled backward and fell out his favorite window to the bailey grounds down below.
“Ye think… ah won?” Johan chuckled, straining from the effort of speech. “Cheated is more like it. And it’s all thanks to yer famous chili peppers, Marie. Dinnae… ever forget it. Yeh take… care of… everyone for me...”
“Marie, go ahead and hit him in the arm for me,” Sly said, raising her voice from across the room. Marie looked up, her face twisted in a vexed expression. “He’ll be fine. If you won’t hit him, I’ll do it myself.”
Marie could bring herself to do no such thing, and watched in horror as Sly strutted to where Johan lay, a bowl of herbal smelling goo in hand, then unceremoniously kicked him in the bum.
Johan groaned through gritted teeth.
Marie’s mouth worked as if to say something, but Sly didn’t give her the chance.
“I already gave you something to hold you over, Johan. You can quit showboating in front of Marie. You’re not going to bleed to death. You’re not going to die. If you hadn’t been so clumsy as to step on that box with Zarik’s potion vials, then I wouldn’t have had to resort to crude magic and a hastily put together poultice.”
“Yes m’lady,” Johan said, chuckling slightly at her harsh words.
“Now girls, get into position,” Sly continued.
They worked together to get Johan onto his feet, which proved easier than anyone but Sly was expecting, at least once she kicked the half-dwarf again and told him to get up on his own and quit mucking about. Everyone stared with mouths agape as Johan easily got to his feet after that. Then he shot Marie a wink and a foolish grin.
“What’s happenin’?” Marie asked.
Sly ignored her and continued to order the other girls.
“We need to pull his shirt and mail off right away, then douse him with those buckets. Last, we apply the poultice. Would you like to help, Marie?”
“How are we… but … what about the sword? How are you going to take off his shirt?”
Sly answered by gripping the handle and pulling the blade free from Johan’s chest without preamble, then casually tossing it aside in a smooth motion.
Johan responded by bending over slightly and, of all things, giggling. Marie squeaked in shock at first, then looked at Johan sideways.
“Are yeh mad?” Marie asked, not really sure herself whether she meant Johan or Sly.
“I told you, he’s fine,” Sly said, handing her the bowl with the glowing solution. “Now, off with his shirt and let’s get this over with. The man might not feel pain, but he’ll still bleed out if we take too long…”
In minutes, they were finished, and Johan’s wounds were plugged up with the magical poultice. Sly uttered a few words of power and the half dwarf’s wounds began to close on their own. It was not the same complete healing as with a greater potion of healing, but it was enough.
The cost, however, was that Johan aged somewhat. The youth he had regained thanks to Sly’s magic had been the price to pay for his recovery. Rather than a man in his mid 40’s, he now appeared to be in his early 60’s.
He still looked stronger and more hale than he had before Sly ever came to the Mud Castle. As far as Johan was concerned, losing youth he never expected to have in the first place was an easy price to pay in exchange for his people’s freedom.