Demon Blade

Chapter 3

Morgan was thoroughly bored and had been just about to head outside to explore when Jorga showed up again. Her mouth smiled at her, but her eyes were hard and emotionless. "I'm sorry," the girl said. "I don't know what I've done, but I'm sorry for doing it."

Her eyes defrosted a little. "It has nothing to do with you." Crossing the room, she took a seat beside her on the sofa. "Tomorrow we're going to make a journey to my friend's home in Arkanon. It's a fairly long trip, but should be enjoyable for you. Fiore has many beautiful sights."

"Fiore? Is that the name of this world?"

A single nod. "Named for the goddess Fiorea who created both it and the original inhabitants, they say. I, myself, can find little sense in believing that." She rose and strode over to a wall where a short bow and a quiver full of arrows hung. "I'm going out to hunt for dinner."

"O-okay," Morgan stammered. She folded her hands tightly in her lap. Being alone when Jorga was in the next room was one thing, but being alone when the woman was no where nearby was entirely different. She knew no one else on Fiore and was further disadvantaged by knowing nothing of the customs and history. Morgan was very certain that any native would think she was an escaped mental patient.

Sensing that she was apprehensive about her leaving the house she said, "You will be fine, Morgan. Remember the wards."

The wards. Nodding, the girl summoned up a ghost of a smile. Jorga scrutinized her for one long moment, before vanishing out the door.

Having nothing else to do, Morgan settled down to think. She couldn't deny that Jorga was one enticing woman. She was strikingly and exotically beautiful, tall and strong, and exuded confidence the way most people Morgan knew exuded insecurity. But, then again, none of them looked like Jorga and they weren't as settled in their lives, either.

As stunning as the older woman was, she also had a strange temperament that changed at the drop of a hat. One moment she could be pleasant and relaxed, while in the next she had barricaded herself behind a sturdy protective shield. It was most evident by her eyes. They were a soft dove gray whenever she was happy or content, but turned lighter and sharper whenever she was displeased or tense. The second look always made Morgan squirm internally with a shiver of fear. Although she was fairly positive that the older woman would never hurt her, it was still hard to see her look that way. It made her wonder what had happened in the course of Jorga's life to instill such hardness in her.

Deciding that nothing good could come from the direction her thoughts were taking, Morgan got up and began to tour the room. It was very large, so large that Morgan would have thought that it spanned the entire length and width of the house, but she knew that there was another room beside it. And, although she was intensely curious about it, she didn't dare peek inside. That was the room Angry Jorga had emerged from only minutes before, after all.

Weapons lined the walls on specially made hooks. There were daggers and swords, bows of all sizes and types, staves, maces, battle axes, war hammers, and other weapons that she could not identify. She figured that most people would be afraid to be in the home of someone who had so many weapons around, but she felt safer that they were there. Allowing her hand to trail over the shining steel blade of one ornate sword, she wondered how it would feel to wield it.

"Pick me up," something whispered. "Try me out. The Mistress won't mind." Her hand was starting to curl around the hilt before she knew it and Morgan gasped and yanked it away. Frightened, she took several steps away from the walls until her thighs hit the back of the sofa. Then she allowed herself to fall backward, to collapse in its soft embrace. Jorga's house was, without a doubt, too magical for her to explore. She was rather fond of living, thank you, even if some days were worse than others.

Soon after she'd made the final decision to stay put on the sofa no matter what, Jorga returned carrying a rabbit by its ankles. It had already been skinned and dressed so the only way Morgan was able to identify the creature was by its floppy ears and elongated feet. If she'd ever wondered about the process meat went through before it was placed into neat plastic-wrapped packages in the grocery store, that sight alone would make her change her mind.

"I'm glad I didn't insist on going with you," she swallowed thickly.

Jorga declined to comment, but Morgan swore that she'd seen amusement dancing in her eyes.

The animal was quickly dissected and then deposited into a large pot of water along with various vegetables and herbs from the small garden outside. Then it was set to boil on a hook in the fireplace. Morgan, though feeling sorry for the poor animal, had to admit that she was hungry. It wasn't as if she'd never eaten rabbit before, but she'd never had to see the creature before it made its way into a supermarket.

The silence that settled between them this time was making Morgan squirm. Beside her, Jorga was staring off into the fireplace with a thoughtful look on her face and the teen snuck peeks at her periodically. They had not touched since before her host had vanished into the next room and had not spoken since she'd come home with food. The sense that something was seriously wrong was a feeling that wouldn't leave her alone and her unhappiness eventually grew to a point when she just couldn't take it anymore. Rising, she walked around to block Jorga's view and then stared at her silently until the the silver eyes focused on her.

"Something the matter?" she asked with a small quirk of her lip.

"Yes," was the honest answer, "and we need to talk about it." Nervous now that she had Jorga's complete attention, she swallowed and clenched her hands behind her back. "Before you went into that room, we were getting along fine. I didn't feel any coldness coming from you and I even thought that you liked me. Now, though..." She swallowed again. "You're treating me like I'm only a pest. I want to know what happened. Did I do something wrong?"

There was no way that Jorga could tell her the truth, so she told her a lie. It wasn't very difficult and it was a practice that she had gotten quite good at over the years. "I'm annoyed that we have to walk to Arkanon, that's all." All good lies contained just a hint of the truth.

"Alright." Morgan knew that she wasn't being told the entire story, but also knew that nothing would drag the truth out of Jorga unless she wanted to tell it. The short amount time she'd spent with her so far had shown her that she was a formidable and stubborn woman when she wanted to be. "How much longer until dinner is ready?"

"Not much," was the reply.

The two of them lapsed back into silence, each mired in their own dark thoughts.

***

The rabbit stew was surprisingly good. Jorga never struck her as someone possessing cooking skills beyond making something reasonably edible so that she didn't starve. All conversation between them was forced and obviously missing many of the key elements that would have made it enjoyable. Morgan was sad that they'd lost their easy camaraderie so quickly and so easily, but she was determined to deal with it as best she could.

It was still twilight when Jorga shook her roughly awake. She'd slept in an old tunic of her host's that came down to her knees because she'd known that that the brief denim shorts she'd worn all day would be too uncomfortable to sleep in.

"I've laid out clothes for you to wear until we get to a town. You can't go around wearing what you were in on Earth."

"Oh," she said, sitting up and rubbing at her eyes with her fists, "I suppose not." As soon as Jorga deemed her awake enough, she moved off into the other room again and shut the door.

The sofa hadn't been all that uncomfortable, but she'd felt alone even though Jorga's bed was just across the room. She'd had all that space to herself and only used a small portion of it. Morgan had debated the pros and cons of slipping into bed beside her in the middle of the night, quickly discarding the idea as "insane." Just about every seasoned warrior in her fantasy novels had hair-trigger reflexes and she had no desire to be hit attacked.

She slipped back on her shoes after donning the long medium blue tunic and belting it at the waist. Since it was like a dress on her, she didn't bother with the leggings. In addition to Jorga having nearly twelve inches of height on her, she was also had a larger waist.

"Are you ready?" Jorga asked as she exited holding a knapsack. It was fuller than it had been when she went in.

"As I'll ever be. I hope I don't look weird to anyone." Self-consciously, she smoothed down the soft material of the shirt.

"You look beautiful." A blush gathered in the girl's cheeks. "Blue definitely suits you." The color deepened. Jorga had a habit of saying things that completely wiped away any previous slight.

After packing up a knapsack for Morgan who would be carrying her own waterskin and bedroll, the food, and the cooking utensils, she steered the girl over to the wall. Stiffening, Morgan shot Jorga a terrified look.

"I don't think I could use a weapon," she admitted.

"It's a dangerous world out there so it would be in your best interests to learn how to defend yourself. Go on, run you hand over what draws your attention the most. The one best suited will call to you."

The sword pulled her again, but she resisted. Although she had fantasies of being a swordswoman, the thought of actually killing someone made her nauseous. She likewise passed by the bows because she knew that her aim was poor. What was left was a smaller group, but still just as deadly.

"I-I think a staff is okay for me," she swallowed. "I guess."

"It's a melee weapon. Relatively close combat."

She paled. "Maybe not."

Now impatient, Jorga chose a slingshot from her mounted weapon collection. She also selected a sturdy dagger for the girl just in case the enemy made it past Jorga's guard and inside of Morgan's own (though that was highly unlikely). "For now, keep your weapons in your bag. Later, I'll rig some sort of holster for each of them as well as give you lessons on their usage."

"Is that all we'll be doing today? Walking and training?"

"Is there something else you would like to do, then?"

"Yes. I would like to have a civil conversation with you again, if you don't mind." She packed away her new weapons and shouldered the bag. "Where did you grow up? Did you have a happy childhood?"

Jorga gave her a look that clearly meant that she should stay away from personal topics if she knew what was good for her, but Morgan remained undaunted. Sighing, she followed the teenager out and locked the door behind them with a spell.

"I was born in a city that doesn't exist anymore. I know that for certain because I went back there once a long time ago. My childhood was fine."

It was a sad start, but it was something. Morgan picked up the slack and began to chatter about her life as a little girl, even causing Jorga to smile a few times during the course of her long tale. It was near noon when their destination finally made an appearance on the horizon and, by that time, Morgan was more than ready for a break.

"Can I sit down for a minute?" she asked. Her feet just plain hurt. She had been able to ignore it for quite some time, but as her monologue wound down, the intense throbbing became harder and harder to ignore. She knew that it wasn't very far to the town, but she didn't think she could push on any longer non-stop without dire consequences.

"That's the disadvantage of your technology," Jorga commented. "You've all become lazy." But she stopped anyway and allowed Morgan to get both her breath and the feeling in her feet back.

"I can verify my laziness, but I don't know about anyone else. It's not because of cars, either, but because I hate being around most of the people my age so I stay in the house most of the time. They just act so immature, you know?"

The woman agreed. "I've noticed that about most of your people up through the age of thirty. They have few responsibilities, and know nothing of honest hard work, so their minds are always idle. Here, everyone works hard until they're too old to work any longer."

Somehow, Morgan couldn't imagine Jorga as a common laborer. "Did you work like that?"

An intense stare. "No." And the conversation was abruptly closed.

***

They made it to the town soon after. Jorga immediately took her young charge into a building only marked by a symbol painted beside the door that consisted of what she supposed was a picture inside of a circle and informed her that she would be selecting new clothing. Nothing flashy, nothing too expensive, just durable, everyday wear. After browsing shelves for several minutes, Morgan was at a loss how everything was organized. It wasn't like there were size tags or price stickers on the clothes. Anxious to get the entire thing over with, Jorga helped her select three tunics and three sets of leggings to purchase along with a sturdy pair of boots. She didn't bother haggling with the merchant woman, she simply paid the price that she asked for. At the sight of so many coins exchanging hands, Morgan's eyes grew wide and she wondered how much the transaction cost the older woman. But she didn't dare ask, not when things were so strained between the two of them.

After leaving the clothing shop, Jorga took her to another that sold food and gave her a lesson in buying things that would travel well. Dried foods, for the most part, were excellent choices. Meat would never be purchased, only acquired on the trail since there was no way to keep it cold on their journey. Morgan felt her stomach do a slow roll when she thought about the rabbit's skinless, gutted carcass, but she knew that she really couldn't survive on vegetables, grains, and fruit alone.

That night in bed at the local inn, she thought about her home and how she would love to go back sometime soon. When she first left Earth with Jorga nothing was very scary. She had a friend with her, after all, one that cared about her well-being and could protect her from harm. Now she walked beside a stranger. It was depressing how quickly Jorga could go from bantering with her to ignoring her completely and it made Morgan feel as if she had little worth. Sighing, she tried to make herself comfortable enough to sleep and even lying beside the warm body of her secret crush didn't make her feel any better.

Prologue

Chapter 01

Chapter 02

Chapter 03

Chapter 04

Chapter 05

Chapter 06

Chapter 07

Chapter 08

Chapter 09

Chapter 10