Confrontational Guest...Part 1

The crunch of the grasses beneath his booted feet was the only sound that could be heard as Drake strode up to stand across the small camp fire from Cerrydwen. If he had noticed me, or the half dozing bear on the other end of the stone table, or even the ancient urns sitting on the table, it was impossible to tell. His face was shielded by the hood of a dark cloak that wrapped him in shadow.

I could feel that it was Drake, could tell by his stride and the manner in which he carried himself, but none of us had yet seen his face.

The silence between the two drew out, almost as if there was a contest of wills, to see who would speak first. I wasn’t able to see Cerrydwen’s face, she was standing with her back to me.

“Welcome, honored guest. Would you care to share a meal and a fire with our humble company?”
Cerrydwen’s voice was strong and clear. She had motioned with her left arm to the sticks with the cooked hare on them and back down to the fire where they were standing.

Something about her words struck me as strange, until I realized that she wasn’t speaking English, but a long forgotten language that was a precursor to Arabic. I thought to myself, how the Hell did she know how to speak that language?

Drake also seemed taken aback to hear his original native language spoken in this era, but his replied was only delayed by a couple of seconds. “You will not throw me off of my purpose with your use of arcane rituals and long dead tongues, wench. All I want from you is that which is already mine.”

“And what, dear guest, is it that you claim is yours that we have to give you here?”

“You know what is mine here.”

“I am afraid that I see nothing here that is yours, dear sir. You will have to be quite specific about any claims you may have here. ” As she spoke, the wind kicked up in strong bursts, ruffling her hair, but throwing back the hood on his cloak, revealing the pale, drawn face of Drake. “It is also customary to show oneself when asking for guest privileges.”

“Impudent bitch. I am not going to play this game with you. I came here for the urns. I will leave here with them whether you give them back to me, or I have to take them from your cold, dead fingers.”

“I would advise you, good sir, to remain civil. These discussions will go much more smoothly if you attempt to do so.”

“Look, Cerrydwen, right? That’s your name, if I remember correctly from my files.”

She nodded.

“I don’t know how you have discovered to speak this language, or what you think to accomplish by coming to this...place...and trying to invoke these rites, but I am quickly running out of patience for this game. Are you going to give me the urns, or do I have to take them?”

As he spoke, Drake had drawn himself up in height and seemed to grow in power and importance as he did so. He also had moved a step away from the fire and towards the table.

Cerrydwen stepped smoothly from behind the fire and interposed herself between Drake and the table.

I tensed my shoulders, clasped my hands into fists, frustrated in my role of forced silence. I could sense that things were about to go terribly wrong.

Cerrydwen broke the tense silence as she raised an open palm in a peaceful gesture of seeming surrender. “My dear sir, you may indeed have the urns once they have been emptied of their contents. Would you care to do the honors yourself, or shall I?”

If it were possible, Drake blanched an even paler shade of white. His lips were drawn tight over his teeth, so tight that his slightly enlarged canines seemed about to burst through his bloodless, thin lips until he spoke.

“I...don’t...think...so. Those urns must remain intact. My claim is that both the urns and their contents must be returned to me, intact and undisturbed.”

I could now see a profile of Cerrydwen’s face, could see that she had that same calm demeanor that she usually had, with the slightest hint of a smile forming as she replied.

“Sir, your claim of ownership over the urns themselves is noted, however our hostess has informed me that no claim of ownership of the contents may be recognized. You may indeed take possession of the urns themselves, but only after they have been opened and their contents released.”

In one quick motion, Drake’s right hand came up and backhanded Cerrydwen. The sound was sharp and loud as the back of his his hand smashed into her cheek, sending her flying in a seemingly boneless heap to the side.

“NNOOOO!!!!” I screamed out and lurched forward into motion.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl in that moment that Cerrydwen went flying.

As I burst into action, Drake dropped into a defensive posture, as he swung around to face me. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the large, lumbering figure of the bear come to her feet and launch herself into motion as well, coming at Drake from behind...

Relishing the idea of Drake being sandwhiched between me and that bear, I was almost glad that the peace of this place had been broken...