Hard Core Chapter Four

Anoir leads the way through a dusty town where life gives them lemons, or at least Timmy does.

“Adventure has a lot of walking.” Timmy commented as walked ahead of Anoir.

She nodded and paused to wipe away the sweat that trickled down her face with increasing frequency. She flicked the droplets at the flies buzzing around her head and shook her hair to scare them away for a few merciful seconds.

Timmy started humming. It was like a buzzsaw through her brain. A relentless, cheerful buzzsaw.

“Timmy, if you don’t stop humming, I’m going to feed you to the flies.” she said sweetly.

He turned around, his blue eyes wide with surprise. “They eat people?”

She felt bad when she saw the look on his face. “No. Just… stop.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know I was doing it.” He bit his lip and kicked up the dust at his feet.

Anoir smacked a few flies with the back of her hand as they closed in again.

“It would take a lot of them.” He commented.

“What?”

“The flies. It would take a lot to eat a person. Tons.” He decided.

“Timmy?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

The pair walked in silence for a solid five minutes across the dusty plains before Timmy started humming again. Anoir gritted her teeth, intensely regretting ever inviting the kid along.

“You’re doing it again.” She hissed.

“Sorry. It’s stuck in my head.” He replied, dropping his own to stare at his feet as they walked over the rocks and grit.

“What is it?” she asked, desperate for something to distract her from the godsawful heat.

“It’s a hymn. We used to sing it at St Francis. Do you want me to teach it to you?” he asked hopefully.

“No, I think I’ve heard enough of it to last me a lifetime.” Anoir replied as calmly as she could. “Look, how about you run ahead and see if you can spot the town. I’ll catch up.”

The boy nodded, his nose already raw from sunburn, and happily bounced away. Anoir let out a sigh of relief and just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, letting the rhythm calm her. She’d forgotten how much work people were. Especially stupid little kids who didn’t know the first thing about survival. Sound travelled a long way on these barren plains, and the last thing she wanted was to alert bandits to her arrival.

But that was the price she had to pay if she wanted a Magin on her side.

She watched the boy scramble to the top of a dirt mound two hills away and point excitedly. So they were heading the right direction. Thank gods for that.

Timmy ran back and met her halfway, face red with the effort. “There’s rows of houses!” he said excitedly. “Made of wood! It’s like a real western!”

“We are west.” She pointed out as gently as she could. She slapped a fly dead against her trousers, where it got lost in the black of the fabric.

“Do you think there are cowboys?” he asked eagerly.

“I doubt it.”

Timmy’s face fell. Anoir backtracked hurriedly. “They’ll probably all be out rustling cattle, that sort of thing.”

He beamed and nodded, his fluffy hair sticking to his sweaty pink face. “This is going to be great! My first ranch.”

“It’s not a ranch, it’s a town.” Anoir corrected. “Ranchs have horses and cattle and… other animals.” She finished. She’d never actually been to a ranch but she’d heard talk.

Timmy wasn’t concerned though. “My second town!” he said gleefully, eyes sparkling with excitement.

The pair crested the sandy dune, Timmy sliding down with more speed than control while Anoir stepped carefully through the treacherous rocks. The sun beat down overhead, tracking them maliciously wherever they went.

Anoir kept her focus on her feet. Each step rattled the sticks in her vest and jabbing her in the back. By the time she reached the bottom, Timmy was gone.

She trudged the remaining few feet through the thin layer of sandy dirt scattered across hard-baked clay that formed the foundations of little town. Two long rows of wooden buildings stretched out, as barren as the desert beyond. The hitching posts Anoir passed were slanted and broken. There were no horses to be seen.

She looked inside a rusting water trough and met the gaze of a disgruntled lizard. There was no water either.

She followed the sounds of an old out-of-tune piano into a saloon, confident that wherever noise could be found so would Timmy. He was already inside, gazing in awe at the wizened old man plonking the keys of the dying instrument.

“Hey, moron.” She called as she crossed the room to his side. “Don’t wander off. This is bandit country.”

The piano man started. Glasses clattered and chairs shunted. Anoir twitched at the shing of blades being drawn.

She looked up in time to see the barmaid reach for a loaded crossbow on the back wall. Raising her voice, she spoke the magic words to calm any tense strangers. “Boy, this coin purse sure is heavy." she said loudly. "I could use a drink.”

The room relaxed, but only slightly. The hesitant tuneless chords filled the air again and the murmurs of conversation started again. Anoir dragged Timmy by the arm over to a table in the corner and shucked off her vest, tying it into a bundle to shove at her feet. She shifted her chair so she could see both the entrance and the bar and sat down.

“I like pianos.” Timmy said conversationally, utterly unaware of what had just happened. “We used to have a huge one in the orphanage that ran on air. Three boys had to pump the bellows before we sang or nothing’d come out. It was really neat.”

The woman from the bar slid over to them. She gave them a once-over, looking unimpressed. “What’ll it be?”

“The usual.” Anoir said, not looking up from where her gaze was fixed on the piano man.

The woman grunted. “And what about you kid?”

Timmy looked up at her with a puzzled smile. “What about what?”

“She wants to know what you’re eating.” Anoir supplied, sighing inwardly.

“Oh! I’d like one portion please.” He said earnestly. “And one water.”

The woman blinked. “Two usuals.” She decided and clattered away, picking up filthy plates as she went.

Anoir leant over and squinted at Timmy. “What was that? ‘One portion’ please?”

“Isn’t that how you order?” Timmy asked, tilting his head. He watched his blonde hair fall with intense interest. “That’s how it works in the orphanage. You can order two portions if you’re really hungry and don’t mind skipping a meal next time.”

“Your orphanage didn’t offer a lot of choice, did it.” Anoir said. “I’m guessing gruel with bread was a treat on Christmas?”

Timmy flipped his head back the other way, watching blonde strands cascade past his nose. “On Christmas we got a whole handful of raisins each. They were so sweet and yummy. I only had one a day so I could make them last a whole year.” His eyes glazed over as he remembered the dried fruit treat.

Anoir felt a pang of sympathy for the boy, but she quickly squashed it. “Well in the real world, you get choice. The usual, the special or the scraps. You should always order the usual. Places mix the scraps with the special and charge you extra just to squeeze a few more coins from stupid travelers.”

Timmy nodded. “I’m so lucky to have you. You know everything.”

Another stab of guilt followed by a flash of pleasure caught Anoir off-guard. It was kind of nice to be looked up to, even by a kid so incredibly naïve. It made her feel special.

The plates arrived, tossed onto their table with the casual aim that comes from years of serving the exact same thing.

Anoir picked up a fork and started shoveling it down, grateful to have something solid to put in her belly.

Timmy placed on hand flat across the other in an ‘x’ and muttered something before picking up his cutlery. He poked the food with his knife and watched the clear parts wobble. “What is it?”

“It’s the usual. If you don’t eat it I will.” She answered through a mouthful of cold egg. “Hurry up.”

Gingerly, Timmy put a bit in his mouth. He chewed carefully, and chewed some more. Finally he swallowed.

“Just shove it in.” she advised. “It’s better in one lump.”

Screwing his eyes shut, he forked half the plateful down as fast as he could. He chewed hard, cheeks bulging, and after a few tries managed to swallow it.

“And I thought seventh-day gruel was tough.” He whispered to himself.

Anoir pushed her empty plate across and took his. “Too slow.”

She guzzled the remaining lump of animal parts in jelly with chunky gravy and leant back, satisfied. Her belly was stretched uncomfortably tight and she never wanted to see food again. It was a great feeling.

She closed her eyes, listening to the barmaid stack their dirty plates. 

“Anything else then?” she asked stiffly.

“Water.” Anoir said, holding up two fingers.

The barmaid returned in seconds with two dirty glasses and some equally dirty water inside. Anoir kept her eyes closed and threw it back, relishing the moisture on her parched throat.

After a few moments she cracked open one eye to see how Timmy was faring. He was trying to sieve the water through his teeth and failing.

“Just chuck it back.” She insisted, closing her eye again. “A bit of dirt won’t kill ya.”

“Right then.” The barmaid said loudly, glasses clinking. “Who’s paying for this lot?”

Anoir pointed at Timmy.

“Me? I don’t have any money.” He protested.

Anoir leant forward, eyes snapping open. “What happened to the stuff the orphanage gave you? I thought orphans were supposed to get a full coin purse when they left.”

“The bandits took it when they stole my clothes.” Timmy said quietly, tracing a pattern in the condensation on the table.

“Well that’s just great.” Anoir crossed her arms. “I guess you’ll just have to do that magic thing then.”

“What do I look like, stupid or somefing?” the barmaid scoffed. “Everyone know magic don’t exist.”

“Well I’m not everyone.” Anoir said slyly. “Go on, ask him anything. I’ll wait here.” She put her feet up on the table and settled down for a doze in the warm stuffy room.

The barmaid looked at Timmy suspiciously. “You really do that woo stuff?”

Timmy looked panicked. “I can try, but really, I’m not all that good.”

“Mmm. Follow me.” She walked behind the bar, blonde boy in tow, and went down a lot of stairs to the cellar.

“This is where we keep the booze.” She explained in murky room. “These three barrels got sent to us last week.” She patted three huge wooden barrels wedged near the steps.

“Some bloody stupid sod heard oil instead of ale and we got stuck with it. What, do I ask you, does a bar want with oil? Cost a fortune and we can’t shift the stuff.” She kicked the barrel contemptuously.

“So what would you like me to do?” Timmy asked nervously.

“Isn’t it bleeding obvious? Turn this useless sodding oil into some god damn money or I’ll have you hanged.”

“I don’t think I can do that.” Timmy squeaked. “I’ve never even seen gold.”

The barmaid leant on the barrel, considering her options. “How about you make it ale then? That liquid gold, that is.”

Timmy blinked a few times but relaxed. “I can try make the yellow drink.”

He looked at each barrel in turn and scrunched up his face so hard he turned pink. The barmaid watched him, torn between fascination and skepticism.

His face relaxed again. “I think I did it.” He said, a smile bubbling on his face. “Go on, try it!”

The woman looked critically at the barrels but she fetched a mug anyway. Turning the tap, she let a surprised murmur when yellow liquid poured out.

Timmy bounced on the spot happily. “I did it!”

Sniffing the drink suspiciously, the barmaid took a sip. Her face screwed up as she swallowed.

“That’s not ale!” she cried. “That’s lemonade!”

Timmy stopped bouncing and looked crestfallen.

“That’s amazing.” She continued, taking another sip. “How did you do that?”

Timmy shrugged. “I don’t know. I just think hard and it happens.”

“That’s a miracle.” She said in awe. “I haven’t seen a lemon in five years. We’ll sell buckets of the stuff.”

She leant down and pinched his cheek, smiling. “You’re a little goldmine, you are. How about you come stay with me? I could get you a nice bed at the inn and we could work on making ale with that funny face of yours. Whaddya say?”

She looked at him hopefully, her eyes hungry.

Timmy shook his head. “I can’t. I’m on a quest!”

“That’s right.” Anoir said from the top of the stairs, her face hidden in shadow. “We’d better be going if we want to make it to the rock mine before winter. Come on Timmy.”

Timmy moved to climb the stairs, but the barmaid held him back. “Don’t be foolish, hon. This is bandit country. Stay here and I can keep you nice and safe, I promise. You’ll have free meals and a free bed your whole life here.”

“No thanks.” Timmy said brightly. “I want to see the world.”

He pulled himself out of the woman’s grasp and bounded up the stairs two at a time, following Anoir’s shadow.

“You’re making a mistake!” the woman cried. “You’ll be killed out there.”

Timmy paused at the top of the stairs. The woman looked up, hopeful.

“Thank you for the meal.” He said politely. “May the gods smile upon you and bless your town with their bounty.”

Beaming happily, he bounded out the door.