Mother's Maul

The cold flecks of ice bit at her forehead. Her thick mat of unkempt hair refused to submit to a hat or cowl. A booted foot stomped, kicking her maul back under the seat as a low growl reverberated in her throat. The wooden floor board groaned in response. Wheels thumped in rhythm with a horse's trot, slushy snow accumulated in icy clumps making the wagon bounce with the wheel's beat.

The growl reached its limit and sprung from her mouth, "Mr Fassad, it's supposed to be Spring!".

Reigns tightened. The horse grunted and spit as the wagon pulled to the side. The maul slid forward again. Thumping wheels slowed, sliding the last two feet before stopping. Then, metal scraping of the brake finished the journey's song.

The young driver twisted to shake the man in the back of the wagon. "Mr Fassad, wake up! We're at the next tavern."

The balding man peeled off several layers of blankets. As he stood he pulled his pants over his belly and straighten his travel robes. His boots made a splat in the muddy road. Glass vials jingled as he lifted a crate off the back of the wagon.

"Supheli, stay with the cart and horse. Get your Mother's maul out and look intimidating." Mr Fassad made the order without looking around.

Supheli was quick to object, "There's no one here to intimidate! Didn't you see the snow? Let me come in too!"

Warmth erupted from the tavern as the door opened. A tall man of the forest stepped out, covered in furs and gear. He hugged the side of the building to stay under the extended roof.

Mr Fassad's eyes flashed toward the man as if that proved his point, "No, plus Fjord will be lonely out here by himself."

The flash of warmth disappeared as the tavern door closed behind Mr Fassad.

The wagon's brake slammed back and forth as the horse pawed at the ground, side stepped, and then pulled again. In response, the young driver's maul slammed on the floorboards of the wagon as the young driver's feet sloshed into the mud.

Supheli's brash and loud movements calmed in front of the horse. She let out a long breath. "Hey, Fjord. What has you unsettled?" She reached around his neck and made long slow strokes.

"He knows the forest is in pain." The man by the tavern interjected himself in the conversation.

A steady and gentle hand stayed on Fjord while the rest of Supheli's body tensed and the maul swung up in the air, "What!" It was more of an exclamation than a question.

"You've been in the city too long. Didn't you hear the forest cry a few days ago? Forgot your connection to the land?" The man's arms crossed at Supheli's stern tone.

The cold faded as Supheli's blood pressure rose. "I was born in the forest!"

The man spoke cool tones that matched Supheli's words to her horse. "I see, but you can't be old enough to have walked in the forest. How did you come by one of Olin's weapons?"

Curiosity trumped anger, fright, and danger. "Who's Olin?" The tension melted in Supheli's stance.

Without any pretense or movement toward Supheli or the wagon the man spoke of the ancient blacksmith Olin- a master craftsman of such skill that one has not been seen since. The runes engraved on the maul were dwarvish in origin but Olin knew how to forge with their power. Gem and stone embedded in his body channeled the runic power. The tale surprised Supheli and tugged at deep desires to be someone important. She listened, feet planted in the mud, her entire body soaking in all the words.

The door opened and a traveling companion to the man stepped out. "Berkan, look at the potion I got, it's blue."

Berkan nodded to Supheli then spoke to his friend, "Why did you buy that? Those potions never work. Let's get back to the mine."

The wagon dipped and shifted then vials clanged on the back of the wagon as Supheli pulled open crates. "Wait!"

She held up two potions to the light streaming out the tavern's windows. The lighter one went back in a crate. "Here take this one instead. It is more concentrated."

The men stared at her for moment then Berkan laughed and reached out for the new potion. "Young warrior, keep that old wizard you're traveling with in line. And, keep protecting your people."

Two fingers pressed hard against her forehead. Mmm. Grr. Mmm. Concentrate. The maul's handle was getting sweaty as Supheli gripped it tightly in her other hand. The metal of the head of the weapon felt cool on her forehead. It had to do something special if Olin made it. "Ahh! Come on!"

After the third scream Mr. Fassad stood in the snow beside her, "Supheli, what are you doing?"

Excitement dashed off Supheli, making Mr Fassad take a step back. "It's my mum's maul. It was made by Olin! How great is that? My mum said it was a family heirloom. I'm connecting with my heritage. I'll need it to protect the forest."

Fassad tossed a few dozen coins into a pouch hidden under Supheli's seat. "Well, connect on the way to the next town. We need to get on the road. Remember my contract with your mom is for you to protect me."

"Of course, Mr Fassad." She could do both.

She waited until Mr Fassad bundled himself under his blankets then got Fjord moving. "We need to get out of town before every tries the potions, right Mr Fassad?"

He responded with a some light snoring.