An Orc's Journey

9. Volcano Island

"Well. What do we do now?"
Dehaka and Dits were sat beside a campfire on the side of a road.
"Um. I don't really know. You wanted to go to Scotland didn't you?" Dits was covered in bandages and his ears were covered.
"Well yeah. But how are we going to get there now?"
"There's a city over there. They should be able to transport us somehow."
"Alright. Well let's sleep for now. This email stairs hurt."
"Is that why you relied on your dark magic?"
"That. And the receptionist pissed me off"
"What are you going to do about your arm?"
"Nothing. I quite like it."
"If the darkness spreads too much it'll change you for the worse"
"I'm not going to use it unless it's necessary"
"Was that receptionist necessary?"
"Maybe not. Oh well."
"Go to sleep Dehaka"
"Alright. RODNEY! Bedtime!"
The bear waddled towards the Orc. Fell over. And rolled into his arms.
"That's a good cub"

As the sun slowly rose above the distant mountains. Dehaka and Dits set off into Reykjavik. A mixture of confusion and amazement passed over Dits face.
Dehaka just looked pissed off. "Fucking stupid mage. I said north of the UK. Not north of the country."
"They're the same thing dumbass"
"DON'T start on me Wolfy"
"Just try to relax"
"I'll relax once we're gone."
Reykjavik was a quiet city even in the middle of the day. Not many cars. Some people on foot. But no one was expecting an Orc and St Bernard faced dog man to walk down the street. Dressed with weapons and blood stained clothes. To then walk into a fast food place to buy lunch.

Krista woke up to the sound of her mum yelling from the kitchen "Breakfast! Lítill stjarna"
"Okay mum!"
Krista got dressed and walked down her stairs. She hit her arm on the door of the kitchen.
"Have you still not fixed the door?"
"I haven't finished my last painting yet"
"It's not really painting if you have a photographic memory."
"Well yeah. That's why I add to the location. Give it character."
"A tornado probably would give the fire elves some trouble." Krista sat down and began eating her cereal. "And a skyquake above the Avariel Ivory tower too."
"People like my work. So why would I stop doing it?"
"I'm not saying you should stop"
"What are you saying then?"
"Hurry up. You're running out of money for us"
"Very cheeky thing to say to your mother Krista"
"Sorry mum"
"It's fine. Get dressed we're going out"

Krista got changed into her usual look. A coloured hoodie, preferably orange, a pair of black jeans. And a shirt with a vague meaningful message on it.
Going out normally meant going to see a potential buyer for mums work. And then celebrating with lunch on her.
"We're taking the car"
"Where are we going today?"
"An art museum in Kopavogur. Said he'd love to purchase my work for 500,000 Krona each month it's on display."
"Well. Let's get a move on then."

It was a pretty simple drive to Kopavogur. The roads were never busy on a Saturday. They weren't busy normally anyway.
The museum was a beautiful place. Works lining the walls and the ceilings went high and arched around the building.
The man who wanted to see them was a well dressed man with a small nose and glass eye.
"Hello. You must be Caroline. Is that right?"
"Yes. Salrid was it?" Caroline offered her hand.
"Indeed. And Who's this?" He asked looking at Krista.
"Um. This is my daughter. She's not a painter sadly. She is a chef though."
"Right. Can you please show me the painting?"
"Sure. Here you go." Krista passed the canvas to Salrid.
"Thank you"
He moved the cover on the canvas and put on a pair of small glasses. He analysed the entire thing slowly, occasionally focusing on a detail.
"This is definitely going to work in our museum."
"I'm glad you think so"
"Does 600,000 Krona sound good?"
Caroline's jaw dropped.
"I'll take that as a yes"

"Thank you for your services!" Salrid waved off Krista and Caroline.
"600,000 Krona!" Caroline exclaimed. "What do you want to eat?"
Krista just looked at her with a knowing look.
"Okay. My treat!"
The two parked outside the fast food place and stepped towards the door. There was commotion inside.