“We better hurry, Himmel.” Ahren’s worried voice
coincided neatly with his current state of health. He was dead
if they couldn’t find a safe place to extricate the bolt
from his hip. His career as a soldier was over – he’d
be slowed, if not crippled by the quarrel grating against the bones
of his hip.
He could only grunt an answer, but signed as well. Safe. Rest.
Hurt Bad. He took a deep breath and hissed out through gritted
teeth the location that Lorry had given him. Himmel only hoped
the man had gotten away. As he finished the directions, the pain
just became too much and he had to bend over his mount so that
the soft whimpers of pain would not be heard by the others.
“Fingers,” ordered Ahren, “you take point.
Teneil, You and I cover with bows. Himmel between us. Toady, you
bring up the rearguard.” The riders immediately, and without
comment, dispersed into the order. Fingers quietly clucked his
mount forward.
“Indeed, in the rear,” Toady laughed. It was a strange
sound. Tinged with a ragged pitch that originated some small distance
on the other side of psychosis. He grasped his wounded arm and
the reddened field bandage that compressed it. Teneil had done
a fair job of staunching the blood, but the wound would severely
limit Toady’s ability to fight until it healed. “Methinks
I do have the worst placement of us all…”
“Just keep your eyes peeled for riders or for that infantry,” whispered
Teneil as she stepped her mount closer to him. At her appraising
look, he simply laughed. A tittering, crazy laugh which slowed
to a serious gaze. It caused her to lean back away from him.
“They do be following our band, good companion.” Toady’s
voice solidified and the regal resonance in it brought immediate
images from her girlhood. “Yonder knight be Baron Temmerlin,
if I be not mistaken – and I be not mistaken - for I have
faced him in battle ere this skirmish. Indeed it be him.” He
sighed and looked at Teneil.
“Who are you?”
“I be merely what I be,” he laughed gain, but of
a saner variety. “Lead on, comilita, for we must reach our ‘safe
spot’ soon. The Baron will come for us.”
“We’ll be ready,” said Teneil as she urged
the mount forward.
“Indeed, lass, we must be.”
At the point on the road where a stumpy round marker said this
spot was twenty miles from someplace else, they spotted the Traveler’s
Cairn. It was a jumble of rocks that held bits of offerings to
the strange statue at the pinnacle of the rocks. The figure was
carved out of grey granite, but had been painted at some point.
Stout of build, the figure had long traveling robes on, and appeared
to be walking. A long staff was held in hand, and a slingbag carved
onto his back. The free hand was held above the man’s brow,
as if shading against the sun. The man’s face was serious,
yet at the same time held a sense of wistfulness and purpose. Pieces
of food, small worthless trinkets and some coins lay amidst the
rocks. The five riders drew close, still mounted. Fingers looked
up the road at the wagon full of newly cut hay trundling off away
from them. A dog yapped and ran around the wagon following it.
He glanced quickly back the way they came. No riders, no other
traffic. It was cold, clear, and bright enough for everyone’s
face to be caught up in perpetual squint.
“Now what?” asked Fingers, not seeing an oak stand
amidst the deciduous trees. Teneil looked at the figure then turned
to face the direction he was. The fading sun immediately caused
her to squint, and out of reflex, her hand shot up. She began to
laugh.
“I do fail to see the humor in our quandary, companion.” Toady
had not sloughed his second personality yet.
“There,” she pointed. “Across the clearing.” Four
pairs of eyes strained to see what she meant. When Fingers went
to shade his eyes, he too started to chuckle.
Across both road and two hundred yards past a grassy flat area,
another statue stood out next to the forest. It was not the same
as the one near the road, but it was similar enough to warrant
a closer look. The group road slowly off the road, onto the grass
and up to the granite figure.
“Now that is an improvement!”
Ahren scoffed at Finger’s comment. “Any woman that
beautiful and that well endowed wouldn’t give you a venereal
disease, you little puke.” The statue was tall, pushing very
close to six feet. Her robes, even in granite, were diaphanous.
And her attributes were, as Fingers put it, impressive. Her delicate
fingers were wrapped caressingly around a tall staff of a dark
black wood, shod in iron. Far from ugly, the metal had been meticulously
worked and inlaid into the wood. A book was carved at her feet,
and Ahren noticed the words chiseled there: Cometh thou who wouldst
call thyself friend – the wood doth be open unto thee.
Near the figure, a well-trod path ran back into the darkness
of the woods.
“Let’s go,” ordered Ahren, as she held Himmel
upright in his saddle. They dared not move him much for fear of
doing permanent damage to him. They had stopped the bleeding by
packing the entry wound with bandages and a cut swathe of blanket.
“In there?” Fingers looked at the statue. “If
I wanted to lull someone into a sense of false security, that’s
how I’d do it,” he complained.
“I did not ask you, runt,” hissed Ahren. “Move
your ass. Now.”
Fingers clucked his mount forward, but not without a wistful,
and maybe a bit distrustful look to the statue. “Hmmph!”
Fingers followed the path into the trees and it immediately got
colder and darker and damper than before. His companions jingled
along behind him, trying to keep Himmel upright. Fingers came to
a swift little stream after a quarter of a mile. There was a crude
wooden bridge over the water and there was no way the thing would
hold a horse. He was about to dismount, when he saw a curious design
in the woven branches forming the bridge. The others caught up
to him as he inspected the circles and symbols woven into the bridge.
The wood used to form the bridge had looked cut, if twisted. But
as he got closer, Fingers saw the wood issue from two points on
either side of the water, and wove together to form a walkway.
Slabs of rotting bark had been layered on top of the branches until
constant passage had built up a loamy path.
“I got a bad feelin’ about this, Ahren,” The
short man warned.
“Well, with your sense of things, it ought to be perfectly
safe then.” Ahren surveyed the area; the trees were very
close together here. They could pick their way across the water,
but they would have to track into the brush, and the last thing
they needed was a lame mount. Where was this damn safe house?
“Sister, my house be not damned!”
The voice from behind them brought steel. Even Toady was flashing
a knife. Himmel was too far gone to even react; his torso was still
over the horse’s neck. Teneil had an arrow and the bow creaked
as she put tension on it.
“Hold!” cried Ahren. Before them stood the model
for the statue gracing the head of the path. Minus the book, she
was as faithfully rendered as could be humanly possible. Although
her gowns were somewhat less diaphanous than were depicted. Instead
they looked to be well-woven linen and were dirt brown. Her black
leather belt and pouch were tooled identically to the black short-boots
she wore. Even so, Fingers smiled and blushed…
“I mean thee no harm,” she intoned, spreading her
empty hands before her in a gesture of peace.
“Where is Lorry? Did he make it here alive?” Teneil’s
question seemed to perplex the woman for a split second, and then
a smile blossomed on her face.
“He used that name? How romantic!” The mention of
Lorry’s name seemed to put the woman into positively wonderful
spirits. “Lorithlan always was a bit of a softy. He is just
arrived, your companion-brother.”
Her words piqued several curiosities. Fingers was intrigued;
he knew Lorry to be one of the most ruthless and deadly men he’d
ever met – romantic was a word alien to any description of
the Lorry he knew. Ahren, and Teneil, were curious as to this woman’s
more personal intent. Toady’s eyes had narrowed at the woman’s
use of the name Lorithlan. Even so, the moment passed, for the
woman gathered them closer.
“I be Wynethra, but please call me Wyn. ‘Lorry’ used
to call me that. I prefer it,” she laughed. “Come on,
we have to attend to your man here.” Wyn jabbed the sharp
base of the staff into the ground and helped Ahren, Teneil and
Fingers pull an unconscious Himmel out of his saddle. They were
careful of the hip, but he woke up halfway through the effort.
To his credit, he kept the screams of pain bottled up. He was soon
laid out and Wyn was looking at the bandages. Fingers deftly uncoiled
the whole mess and when the point of penetration was seen, Wyn
shook her head.
“Very well, he is worse than I first thought,” she
cast about. We will have to carry him very carefully.”
“Carry? What about the horses?” Fingers went to tie
his up.
“They will not stray – I have asked them to remain
here,” commented Wyn. She smiled at Ahren, who’s eyes
had gotten round. “Yes,” she said before Ahren could
voice it. “I share Lorry’s grace before the Mother.”
“In other words you have some sort of magical power?”
“Call it what you will,” said Wyn as she started
to lift. Everyone got into the effort, even Toady who stripped
the horses and rubbed them down very quickly. He was soon to follow
across the little bridge, though, once the saddles had been secured
and the horses tied to a quick picket of rope.
When Toady finally got down the path a bit more, perhaps a hundred
yards, the trees thinned out and a grove of positively ancient
oaks stood in a rough oval. No other ground cover grew beneath
them, and the forest was sparse about the clearing’s perimeter.
A pair of houses sat off to one side of the tiny grove. Snow covered
the ground, but it was a light dusting that melted as it was trod
upon.
Brown wood planks, green painted trims, and round windows; each
house looked identical, but outside was decorated differently.
A tiny porch thrust out before the round green doors. On one sat
two chairs, a small table, and an open book. It looked like someone
had been writing in it, but had paused. On the other porch sat
two men.
The man on the left was black-haired, and lithely built. He wore
a goatee and a neat mustache, both dark black. His blue eyes sparkled
from across the clearing – and his bubbling laugh greeted
the new arrivals. In the other chair sat Lorry.
“Thy companions have arrived as Wynethra had assured you,
Lorithlan,” the man smiled and stood.
Lorry bounded to his feet and he ran to join his fellow soldiers.
He saw that Himmel was in dire straits indeed. His look to Wynethra
was questioning.
“I can do but what I may, Lorithlan,” she said quietly,
her eyes searching his. “You are the more gifted in healing,
and you have been for years, my friend.” Her eyes still followed
his, even as her hands gently felt the wound. “Merrick, I
have need of your talents, if you would.”
“Of course, dear lady,” said the man jovially as
her approached the knot of beleaguered soldiers. “It is of
no moment, this man’s injury, for he will surely be healed.
I have utmost faith in thy talents.” He brought with him
a clay pitcher of clean clear water for the new arrivals. “Water
to soothe thy parched and winded throats, comrades,” he stated
as he knelt to give aid. The pitcher passed to Fingers first who
upended it and took a couple of long swigs. He passed it on and
then watched as Merrick, whoever he was, snapped his fingers and
the crossbow bolt sheared cleanly off just above the surface of
Himmel’s skin. Toady whicked his curved knife from his belt
and sheared the breeches away with a swift motion.
The soldiers as a group looked away at the sight. “It is
none too pretty,” admitted Merrick. The wound was swollen
and red, blood matted all around the puncture. Lorry was certain
that damage had been done to the joint. He sighed deeply and closed
his eyes.
“He will have to remain here, no matter how we repair the
damage,” he said with eyes shut. “I have enough strength
to fix it but not heal it completely.”
“But before-” said Toady carefully.
“I was careless and unfamiliar with my power. I know I
have not the reserve to do this again so soon. Between Wynethra
and I we might remove all inner damage, but he will be in shock
and still bear the psychological damage that I truly do not have
reserves to aid.”
“Fine,” stated Ahren. “We have a mission to
complete. Himmel may stay here if it is not too burdensome?” Her
eyes sought those of Wynethra. The other woman smiled kindly and
shook her head.
“Of course not. Should your mission be successful you are
all welcome to return for thy companion. For the nonce let us carry
him into the house. As a group they moved Himmel carefully into
the hut decorated in wind chimes and feathers.
Teneil took quick stock of the interior as they entered. The
front room was perhaps fifteen by twenty, with an arched opening
to the rear which looked open into two other rooms, one to each
side of the doorway. The front room was defined by the large chairs
and the hearth. Colorful rugs covered the planked floor and books
lined shelves on every wall. Wynethra motioned them through the
back archway and they deposited Himmel on a small but comfortable
bed in the left-hand room. A window let the wan sunlight in, and
it formed four tilted squares upon his erratically rising chest.
Wynethra motioned for the group to back up some as Lorry pulled
forth his amulet and laid hands on his compatriot. He murmured
words of strange cadence and his hands glowed green around the
wound. After several minutes, sweat began to bead on his forehead.
Ahren could not tell if this was because of the heat generated
by all interested parties packed within the ten by ten room or
to some other strain. Wynethra carefully reached out and touched
Himmel’s body. As well, Merrick closed his eyes and murmured
softly to himself. The bolt’s tip slowly pulled its way out
and dropped with a heavy tap upon the floorboards of the hut. The
wound closed somewhat but remained slightly open and weepy. Lorry
gasped and pulled his hands off Himmel as if the touch burned his
skin. Wynethra gasped an echoing inhalation and Her eyes immediately
riveted on Lorry. The man sighed and collapsed to the floor. Merrick
opened his eyes, chagrined. He watched as Ahren put a bandage on
the wound.
“Lorithlan!” cried Wynethra. She put hand to his
forehead, and then nearly collapsed herself in relief. Ahren, Teneil
and Quiet as well, regarded the woman with interest as suspicions
ran round about in their heads. They each in turn regarded Wynethra
as her eyes sought theirs. “He needs rest for a time, but
he may be up within an hour. Or do you wish to have him stay as
well?” There was almost a plea in that question. One that
Ahren had to deny, even though she understood the pain it caused.
“I cannot afford to lose more of my soldiers. Himmel would
have led us out of here, but I am next to assume command. I would
it was Himmel making the decision, but wishing won’t make
it so.” She sighed and stood. “Where might our comrade
be placed that he may rest while we carry out our orders?”
Wynethra regarded the two unconscious men, then pointed to the
room across the hall. “There is another room there, Lorithlan
may recoup there. I would not move your injured comrade. Once done,
we will see to the rest of you.” Her eyes sought Merrick
as they lifted Lorry.
“I am sorry, Wyn,” he said apologetically. “You
were holding so tight I could not work my way in.” He seemed
sincerely sorrowful at being unable to help.
“I have always held onto Lorithlan too tightly,” she
whispered. “But that has been true from the first.” Her
eyes quickly sought those of Ahren. “Come, I will prepare
drink and sustenance for your party.” Ahren followed Wyn
as the rest of the group carried their senseless companion into
the little room. Ahren followed the tall attractive woman outside
and onto the porch of the other hut. Wyn went inside and motioned
for the soldier to bide a moment. Shortly afterward, she returned
with a platter of bread, cheese, and grapes. Tucked under one arm
was a second clay pitcher of water.
The others joined together save Fingers, who chose to watch over
Lorry first. The soldiers ate everything that could be gleaned
form the platter. A third and fourth serving of water went around
as well. Merrick was beginning to describe the soldiers’ road
ahead in detail when Toady stood and excused himself.
I must needs convey some of this repast to our companion within,” he
said. He had a tray of some food left for Fingers. “I shan’t
be but a moment, unless or dutiful friend is in need of being away
from his duty.” None said a word as he went to give the food
to Fingers.
