Groves gave another great grunt, his arms straining, cheeks puffed out, as once more he desperately tried to lift the wheel. The massive thing seemed made of steel, and budged no more off the ground the first five times the old merchant had tried to lift it.
With a great cough and a tumble of skinny limbs, Groves let go and slumped to the ground. The cart gave a worrying tilt and he scrambled to try and jam the plank back under it. The last thing he needed was all his silks spilling out onto the dirt road.
Satisfied that gravity was kept at bay for the time being, Groves stared miserably down the road. Dusty, sun baked and thick with rocks, it was more than two days home, and still hours from the gates of Truronia. Groves had to hit the one stone among a thousand that would throw his wheel off. He'd never make the market now.
Murrey gave a low honk, and Groves waved a hand at the scruffy donkey.
"Aw shut it. Some help you are," he grumbled. Murrey gave a further splutter and turned to graze at the meager brown grass that grew sparingly all down the road.
He'd expected the road to be well traveled, and when he'd first thrown the wheel and been tossed, quite by surprise, onto the dirt, he'd thought someone would be by in no time. But the hours had lingered on, and the sun had grown heavier, and not a soul walked the dusty road from the north country.
-
Groves was staring up at the sun, his vision blurry, and his tongue dry. He'd brought enough water for the trip, but not for this. He would have had something left to eat if he'd not made sport of throwing the wife's awful scones at birds along the trip.
He took a swig of the last waterskin he had left, and shook it. It was getting troublingly low.
"What do you think, Murrey?" he asked the donkey, looking over to where the beast sat panting in the sun, "Shall we make a walk of it?"
He could barely stand, his body was so weak. His arms and legs ached from the strain of lifting. His arse ached from the tumbled from his seat. His nose was scorched red from the sun. Groves finally admitted to himself it was lose all the silks and stagger home a begger, or maybe not get home at all.
"What would the wife say? Eh Murrey? If the sun doesn't kill us, she bloody will I tell you that for nothing," he gave a snort. When he spoke again, it was in a mockery of his wife's piping accent.
"Lost all his wares on the road he did, on that old cart acting a todger as usual. Got nothing left, had to eat the donkey for dinner."
He smiled at the donkey, and the beasts dark eyes stared back. Groves gave a long sigh.
"You never had any sense of humour."
He looked up the road again, the evening light tricking him into wondering if he could see the shadow of great Truronia's walls on the horizon, but there was nothing. No guards, no soldiers, nothing.
He gave a cursory glance back the way he had come, and his head turned back suddenly when something caught his eye.
He thought it must be a mirage at first, some trick brought on by the sun.
There was a figure coming down the road. Slow and steady.
The figure was strange, hard to make out at first, seeming to be nonsensical. The blurriness from the sun was making clear assessment difficult. It looked like they were wearing some sort of hat.
Groves watched, mesmerized, as the figure strode closer, slow and steady.
Tall, and slender to the look of it, not bulky with clothing as far as Groves could tell, but blue all over. Gods, that blue. He'd silks from Zenance he'd sold for a small fortune not as blue as that. He'd have to see where the figure came by it. Some sort of hat was definitely going on there, a tall arrangement extending beyond the figure's head. Almost like horns.
The figure was clearly female, Groves noticed. He'd made half a century out of watching for women in the marketplace, the way they walk, the shape of their hips. All these thing he'd notice. The curve of the body, the clear shape at chest, hips, it was a woman all right. Something on her thigh was reflecting the dying light, sparkling.
Soon enough, Groves mouth dropped open. The figure was coming closer, slow and steady. It wasn't a hat. They were horns, huge upright horns that pointed towards the great open sky. They extended up from a dark veil, concealing the figure's face. The blue material of the rest of the figure was smooth, not even material like.
Groves gave a cough and a stunned mutter when he realized the figure was naked. Her skin the most vibrant icy blue he'd ever seen. He found himself staggering to his feet. Staring, he still couldn't believe what he was seeing.
She was a beauty. A figure molded as if from marble. Strong and elegant she strode, one shapely foot in front of the other. Her toes were a softer shade of purple, and they pointed delicately as she walked. Slow and steady. Glinting silver, clasped around her upper left thigh, a coil of metal. Almost like a garter.
Groves was overcome with a strange dissonance of emotions. To stare at the figure, to take in those legs, the curve of the hips. A modest bosom that he'd have found worth a glance even clothed, swayed bare in the sun as she walked. It made him feel like a giddy child.
At the same time, he felt a rush of adrenaline, apprehension, fear. What manner of woman walked nude, across miles of country, bearing a head of horns and skin blue as the western seas.
Was this death? Was this how she comes for you? Groves found himself entertaining the idea, and momentarily glanced back, half expecting to see his own dead body laying there in the dirt.
No figure lay at his feet, and Groves turned back to find the woman now only minutes away. Within shouting distance, even. There he stood, somewhere in between home and Truronia, somewhere in between standing and fleeing for his life.
The figure came to a stop, a few feet before him, and Groves stood staring, mouth agape. His brain ceased to function for a moment as he took her in. Her face was mostly concealed by a simple black veil that hung about her head, concealing any hair, with holes to allow the horns to sprout through. Only the lower part of her face was visible. A strong, aquiline jaw, with thin purple lips. A face that betrayed no emotion.
Her eyes were not visible, and he immediately felt shame as hie glanced down at her icy blue body, at her breasts, the dark purple nipples. Her figure was strong, like he figured a warrior must look. The muscles of a worked abdomen reminded him of a youthful body deserted him some thirty years back. He looked between her legs for a moment, a mound of snow white curls inviting him to stare, and found himself looking up directly at where he eyes must be, trying to play it off, thankful that his sunburn concealed his blush. The purple lips did not move to show any displeasure at his apparent appraisal of her bare body.
"Good evening to you, ah, ma'am. Miss." he said, stuttering. His powerful, practiced merchants bark had escaped him, and he sounded like a meek child, "Are you...are you alright, miss?"
The woman looked at him for a moment, as far as Groves could tell, and her hands came to meet in front of her hips. Strong arms, the blue colour darkening purple as it reached her fingers.
"It's a beautiful evening, thankyou. It seems you're having trouble, good sir. Might I be of assistance?"
Her voice was unexpected and Groves was taken aback. A firm and loud voice, used to speaking, but delicately pronounced, as if speaking to reassure, to calm. Her accent was lyrical, like folk from the old country, and Groves was filled with a wave of nostalgia.
"Your wheel is broken, might I help?" she continued, and Groves realized he hadn't responded. He raised a hand to scratch his head and turned to the cart, tearing his eyes from her beauty with some difficulty.
"Oh, yes! Yes, the wheel. Came off on a rock. Heading to Truronia, for...for market."
"Market day is beautiful, so much to be thankful for, all around."
"Not much to be thankful for here though I tell you that for... been in the sun a long time."
"Nonsense," the woman said, and immediately stepped forward, Groves was taken aback at her approach, and suddenly became aware of the woman's obvious strength. She stopped just before him, her head a few inches above his own, but her horns towering higher, and her lips spread in a warm smile.
"We must be thankful for the trials, and the hardships, and the suffering, good sir. Every day."
Without a further word, the naked figure dropped to a crouch before the cart. Her strong arms reached out for the wheel, and ran a finger down it, as if appraising the construction.
"Each day we suffer is a blessing. Each ache, each strike, each burn of the sun on our flesh is a reminder of our physical form. That we can endure, we can feel. We can do so much."
Groves opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He leant to attempt to help, but the woman raised a single hand to him, stopping his movement.
"Please, allow me to take this burden from you. If it please you."
Looking down at her, Groves gave a shrug.
"I may not be a big lad but I couldn't move it an inch, If you think you might have better luck, you're welcome to give it a try."
The lips smiled again, and the veil dipped in a nod.
"Thankyou." she said quietly.
Groves watched as she moved to grab hold of the wheel, her naked body tensing. He watched as her powerful muscles bunched, her legs braced against the road, arms tightening as she took hold of the wheel. The clasp around her thigh, he saw now, was a delicate arrangement of crossing metal. Clasped so tight was it about her thigh, that as she moved, he knew it must be digging into her flesh.
"May it please you," she said quietly, then gave a hiss of exertion. Her hips twisted, and with a cry, she lifted the wheel clean from the ground. For a moment, the weight of the great thing was fully supported by her, shoulders tensed, body shaking, teeth clenched hard. With a thrust of her whole figure, she brought the wheel forward, slotting onto the axle with a resonant clunk.
With one last thump of her clenched fist against the wheel, she slumped to the ground. Groves watched, mouth trembling fighting for words. The woman sat down, seating herself, chest heaving with slow, deep breaths.
She sat there like that for a moment, her head down on a raised knee. Under her breath, Groves heard her quiet prayer.
"For every pain, for every ache, for every drop of blood I am eternally, exquisitely thankful."
Slowly, she rose.
"That was... incredible," Groves stuttered, "How did you do it?"
The figure gave the slightest of bows to him.
"No praise is necessary, good sir. You were kind enough to gift to me your pain and hardships. I am deeply grateful."
She extended a hand to him, and for a moment, Groves didn't know what to do. Slowly, he extended his own, allowing her to take it. When her fingertips touched his, they were cold.
Delicately she bowed, leaning forward, to bring her lips to his palm. Her kiss was soft, and as chill as her touch.
After she released his hand, he took it back, cradling it to his chest. The sensation of her kiss remained.
"Who...who are you, please?" he asked. Returning to her pose, hands clasped in front of her hips, she nodded briefly.
"I am Sister Thekkla, if it please you. Of the sisterhood of the martyred one, in the service of our patron The Sundered Lord."
"Well... thanks to him he sent you my way. I could have died out here if you hadn't passed by."
He gestured to her, at her naked figure, and felt ashamed for doing so immediately, but couldn't conceal his interest.
"Why are you...well, you're naked, miss. I thought you were a vision when first I saw you stroll up."
The head inclined again.
"Penance, good sir. For my transgressions must be punished, so that I may become wiser, stronger, and closer to Him."
"Penance? You're being punished? They just stick you in the stocks where I'm from, not send you out bare naked into the sun."
A ghost of a playful smile touched the purple lips.
"I disagreed with my most exalted mother superior regarding the construction of an awning. She deemed it sufficient to weather winter storms, I made claim otherwise," she hesitated briefly, before continuing, "Twice. The second time including a... choice of language ill fitting someone of my devotion."
"Ah... yeah I've been chewed out for telling my boss to go fuck himself too."
Thekkla laughed, a musical tinkling that was pleasant on the ears.
"Thusly, must I walk at precise pace to Truronia, to the church of the Lost Martyr, to receive a mark upon my back from the disciplinarian. At the exact correct pace, I should have been back before dawn."
"Through Truronia? Like that? You're not afraid you'll be... you know." he gestured down the street, at the specter of the great and luminous capital city.
"I fear nothing, good sir. And there is no hardship that can be visited by man that my body would be unprepared to endure."
Groves exhaled, glancing again across her body. The curves of it, the cords of muscle, the beauty and strength of it. It was mesmerizing. If he could sell artwork of that body he'd pack in the silk trade altogether and be a rich man.
Thekkla gave a bow then, a deep and gracious curtsy, her arms spreading out, before bringing her hands back to clasp over her heart.
"Be well upon your journey sir, enjoy the markets. And take pleasure in the hardships visited upon you. Should you ever again face hardship you cannot overcome, bring them to me at the monastery above Marazion Village. I will welcome you."
He stared, awestruck, wanting then deeply to find some hardship.
"That I will, be sure of that."
Thekkla turned, and began walking back the way she had come, into the evening light. Slow and steady.
"Truronia's that way though!" Groves blurted out, pointing down the street.
Without turning, Thekkla stopped, and spoke.
"The pace to complete my penance is quite precise. Mother superior will know I have dawdled. I must return now, and begin anew. Be well, good sir."
With that, Thekkla strode down the dirt road, her bare feet stepping over sharp rocks.
Groves watched after her for some time, until her naked flesh was just a pale ghost in the moonlight far in the distance.
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