Natural Magic

Chapter 27 - Aftermath

Chicken awoke in the shade of a rock. It was daylight, but the atmosphere here was comfortable. Looking around, he found he recognized this nook. It was one just out of sight of the village, a regular spot he would come to if he needed to be alone.

His muscles protested as he sat up. His arms felt weak. His legs ached. He had a sharp pain in his head, like some beaked thing was pecking from within his skull.

"Hey! Chicken's awake," someone said in a hushed tone. He was offered water, which he drank, though he was unable to identify who was giving it to him. Looking out at the familiar terrain, it was indeed his hideaway near the camp. There was something out of place, however.

An amalgam of billowing grey smudges streaked the skies. They marked exactly where the village would be.

A voice intruded on his thoughts, filled with excitement and tinged with fear

"Auntie said to gather at a safe distance," it was explaining hurriedly. "She said you would come out of it, or she'd catch up. She hasn't yet." The speaker was worried. "We don't know what to do now that the orcs have run off."

Chicken recognized the voice now. It was Melrose talking to him. A mental image of kobold shelters, burning, flashed in his mind.

"You came out of the sky like fiery vengeance, Chicken. I was over at the edge of the field trying to shift rock when I heard you roar like that." Chicken didn't know what he meant, though he spoke proudly about it.

Another fragment of memory flashed. He remembered power at his fingertips. The sensation had coursed through him, holding him aloft. He could do nothing but bellow, for the power filled him so completely. His chest would have burst from the pressure.

"The orcs weren't scared, but I was. I thought it was a roc coming out of the sky to carry one of us away. Like the one that grabbed Gabber when we last saw him, you remember? But the orcs just drew their weapons. You know how orcs like a challenge."

Another memory shard joined the first. Tiny orcs gathered under him. He remembered finding it almost funny. Instead of laughing, though...

"They didn't know about your new gift of fire," the kobold said to him, pride welling from his words. He elbowed Chicken in the side companionably.

Chicken looked down into the reflection on his cup of water. His face warped and distorted as minute waves distorted the surface. Shadows gathered, showing in places only the bottom of the cup. The memory of fire had come back, too.

Just like in the dark underground, it had come forth. The fire did not take effort. It was his force of will, projected and given form. He remembered reveling in the power as he towered over those tiny orcs.

"We knew you wouldn't set them on fire," the kobold prattled, "but they didn't know that, eh?"

He remembered restraint. It wasn't restraint like ropes wrapped around him, but a kind of resistance in his mind. He remembered being both the wild creature and the one wrestling with it.

They burn! the thought had said. The thought had been at once gleeful and pleading, but hadn't been his own. It felt like standing in a strong, hot wind, but he had held fast against it. The torrents of blue flame had landed on tents and rocks, but not on any living thing.

"I think what really drove them off, though," said the kobold conspiratorially, "was when you swooped on that one. I didn't think you would have stood a chance, small as you are compared to those orcs. Fire is one thing, but orcs respect power. Like the power in that tackle. That's the moment they knew they were bested."

Chicken didn't hear the last part. Thinking of the fire reminded him of the underground. The underground reminded him of...

"Where's my friend?" he demanded suddenly. "Did I have someone with me when I showed up?"