Caerwyn groaned. She was getting up, he could see it from the corner of his eye. Even with a broken rib she was acting as normal.
“I’ll be back by… well I don’t know when. I’ll fetch your aunt.”
Then she was gone, at least from his immediate area. He caught her voice a moment later a little distance off saying, “keep an eye on him while I go get some help.”
Barami replied with, “You shouldn’t be going anywhere.”
She replied with a flat tone, “You’re the healer. I’m no good to him if he gets any worse. You stay, I’m… well enough.”
There was a deep grunt a moment later. It seemed Barami wasn’t happy with the choice but he wasn’t going to fight it.
Not long after that Barami came to him with some broth and helped him drink it, lifting his head. The old warrior wasn’t one for words. They didn’t talk.
After that Jais just closed his eyes and rested.
Caerwyn wasn’t looking forward to this encounter. Not only did she have to ask the woman who’d tried to kill her for help, but she had to tell her that her nephew was wounded. Depending on the woman’s temperament and abilities, this might not go so well for Caerwyn.
Frankly she wasn’t sure she deserved the woman’s sympathy. Gods, but she’d truly messed up Jais’ life. Well in truth, it had only partly been her and partly this strange series of events with the krolls. Jais would have gone after these beast whether she’d been here or not, and no matter what had happened it would not have turned out well for him. Either he’d be dead or he’d have shown the village just how different he was.
She knew what it was like to be exposed as different, and pushed away because of it. She wished that on no man.
And here she was, complicating that whole situation with her own desires. She felt a surge of guilt at stringing the young man along, and frustration at not being able to tell him what she wanted. She was usually so clear-headed and practical, but this whole situation had her turned on end. She knew what she wanted, but didn’t know how to ask for it or explain it to him.
It didn’t help that he seemed to already be in a relationship. Could she ask this of him? Should she?
Her thoughts couldn’t settle, and she fought with herself as she made her way to Jais’ aunt.
It didn’t take her long to find her way out of the forest, a few hours only. Thanks to her gift of sensing other drahksani she had an unerring sense of direction to where Jais’ aunt would be. It would also help her get back to Jais later. Moving through the forest wasn’t much trouble either. She’d learned early on in life how to survive in the wild, mostly forests, and that included how to move like the animals did, quickly and without disturbing things around her. Even with only one good eye she made excellent time. So midday found her approaching the small cottage where Jais and his family lived.
She was feeling a little better than she had the night before. Her rib still bothered her, but she managed to keep from jostling it while moving, most of the rest of her injuries were healing well. She blessed her drahksani nature for that. She couldn’t imagine how normal people must feel, having to wait for days or weeks to recover.
Caerwyn paused before the door of the small house. She drew herself up, drawing in a long breath. That made her rib sting, and she winced at it, but it was the price she paid for preparing herself for what was to come.
She knocked.
The door was answered quickly. It was Jais’ aunt. There was a play of emotions over the other woman’s still youthful face, hope quickly replaced by anger, then fear and anxiety, finally settling on concern.
“You’re hurt. Come in.” The woman moved aside to let Caerwyn into the dark confines of the single room home.
This was not the response Caerwyn had been expecting. Her mind worked for a moment. She’d expected yelling, a tirade, or at the very least some sharp comment in the vein of ‘where’s my nephew!’ This kindness caught her off guard. Though after a moment she supposed as a healer the woman would have a strong desire to help those who were hurt. Still it didn’t help Caerwyn adjust from the harsh reaction she’d been expecting. “Jais is safe,” was all she could think to say as she ducked through the short doorway.
The woman nodded. “Thank you,” came the clipped reply. There was a heavy sound of relief with that as well. “Now, this way.”
Three small windows and several thick candles were all that lit the interior. It was enough with the strong summer’s sun that Caerwyn’s eyes did not need to adjust much to the dimmer light. She was ushered to a bed, but before Sarelle laid her down she went about stripping off Caerwyn’s clothes. This too was a bit of a shock, but only for a moment. Caerwyn was not shy or modest. She’d lived and fought among men for most of her life, and it made sense that the other woman wanted to discard her soiled clothes before putting her in a clean bed.
“By Thadros! What have you done to yourself woman?”
Caerwyn couldn’t help but grin at the fact that Sarelle swore by the god of healing, art, and inspiration. He wasn’t the usual god people chose for their expletives. “I didn’t get out of the way fast enough. This particular kroll packed quite the…” She laughed a little at her own pun. “Punch.”
“Kroll? You found it then?” Sarelle was laying her down now, eyes scanning Caerwyn’s body, noting the bruises, cuts and abrasions making soft ‘tsk’ noises. “Is it dead?”
“It and the other one with it.”
Sarelle’s eyes met Caerwyn’s, growing wide. “There were two?” After a moment that sank in, and she continued with, “and you defeated them both?” Before Caerwyn could answer Sarelle was back observing her wounds and finished with, “And this is all you came away with? You must be a great warrior.” The other woman turned away heading into the kitchen area of the house. While doing so she gathered up Caerwyn’s clothes and boots and dumped them by the door.
“Actually, it was your nephew, Jais, who did the bulk of the work.” Caerwyn watched Sarelle carefully. The other woman paused in her brisk trek around the foot of the bed. When Sarelle responded there was a slight quaver in her voice.
“And you said he is well?”
She moved on after this to retrieve a metal box from under the other bed in the hut. She set it on that bed and opened it, pulling something out then closing it and placing it back under the bed.
Caerwyn worded this precisely. “He is well enough. He is alive and awake, but he will need your healing. He fought bravely, but took far more punishment than I did. Yet his gifts from our shared heritage seem to be along the lines of great strength and endurance.”
As Sarelle returned, carrying a small pot. The other woman’s face displayed a false serenity, poorly concealing her worry. She scooped out a dark goo from the pot and began applying it to the worst of Caerwyn’s injuries. “This is your fault, you know that,” she said tight-lipped.
“I know.” After a moment Caerwyn added, “But with gifts like his he would have some day tried to test them. Better he do that with others who can help to protect him, don’t you think?”
Sarelle once again flicked her gaze up to meet Caerwyn’s, unimpressed. She continued on with her work. Sarelle began muttering to herself. A rather intense tingling filtered into Caerwyn’s body. There was a nasty pain around her broken rib, and she gasped. Was the other woman trying to hurt her more?
“What are you doing?” Caerwyn breathed out between clenched teeth.
“I’m healing you… hastily. I figure that will get us both to my nephew quicker. But healing is painful work at times.” The other woman met Caerwyn’s eyes again, and this time there was a hint of gleeful spite in that look. “I figured you were tough enough to handle it without my usual pain killers. That would have taken longer anyway.”
The tingling intensified but oddly the pain around her rib didn’t, it was slowly fading. It felt awkward, like feeling returning to a once numb limb, but it wasn’t truly painful. In truth this wasn’t that bad.
T
he door to the hut opened.
“The forest is quiet today, I wonder if Jais and those two strangers had any luck with…” Jais’ uncle’s voice trailed off as his gaze came around to see where his wife was. “Oh!” He looked away after a moment. Not that Caerwyn cared much if men saw her naked. The man had some decency, though, and she could respect that.
“There are clothes by the door, take them out and wash them.” Sarelle’s tone was stern, and the man nodded, following the order. He was gone shortly.
“My apologies, I didn’t expect him back this early.”
Caerwyn was surprised at the tone in the other woman’s voice. Was it actual remorse?
“I care little about such things. But I thank you for tending to me and my clothes.”
“It’s what I do,” was the stoic response. After another moment, as the tingling began to fade, Sarelle spoke again. “Usually I put my patients to sleep when I heal them. It takes a lot out of the body to recover, and sleep is needed. You are going to be tired when I’m done, but I’ll give you a little energy so you can take me to my son.” It wasn’t until a long moment later that Sarelle corrected herself. “My nephew.”
“You think of him as your own don’t you?”
Sarelle nodded.
“I am truly sorry he got hurt.” Chances are he would have gotten hurt whether Caerwyn had been here or not, but she could have done more to protect him.
The tingling faded to nothing, and Sarelle stopped massaging the dark goo over Caerwyn’s wounds. She sat back heavily, not making eye contact, and sighed. “You’re right. He would have gone out on his own at some point. I wouldn’t have been able to stop him.” She laughed a disheartened, mirthless chuckle then. “Well, I am perfectly capable of stopping him. It is within my powers to keep a body from moving…” Another sigh. Now she looked up, and in her eyes Caerwyn saw a deep concern. “But I couldn’t do that to him. He’s been testing his limits more and more, and one of these days he was going to do something foolish. You’re right. At least you and your companion were there to help him.”
Caerwyn tried to raise herself to a sitting position but failed, falling back. She was truly exhausted. “Oh,” she said softly.
Sarelle laughed truly now. “I told you.”
Caerwyn blinked. “I thought you said you’d give me some energy?”
“Oh, I will,” Sarelle said rising. “In a minute. I like you this way.” She walked around to the other bed in the room and rummaged around in a chest at its foot. “I don’t think anything of Jais’ or Perrick’s will fit you, and I don’t wear shirts and pants like you, so I hope a dress will do.” She rose, holding a utilitarian dress, long and shapeless with a belt at the waist and no sleeves. “We are of a size, though you have more muscle on you. This should fit.”
Caerwyn grimaced. She hadn’t worn a dress in… actually she hadn’t worn a dress since she was a child. Since she had lived with her birth parents… before they had been…
Perhaps it was her state of fatigue or something else, but tears came to her eyes. She did not cry… ever, especially about this. She’d long ago accepted her parent’s fate, but for some reason with this woman helping her, so… motherly — even if Sarelle’s ministrations weren’t particularly gentle — Caerwyn found some pain in her soul leaking through to the surface and suddenly could not contain her sobs.
She had only briefly known her mother and even now had trouble remembering the woman’s face. That seemed so wrong. Some voice in the back of her mind poked at that sting in her soul saying: and what sort of mother would you be? You know nothing of being a mother and you want a child so much? You’re being selfish. Had you ever thought of the child and what it would need and want?
Sarelle was there a moment later, laying the dress down at Caerwyn’s feet before sitting at the head of the bed. “I’m sorry, I…” She stroked Caerwyn’s hair. A soft soothing warmth emanated from wherever the other woman touched her. It eased the pain despite that this was not a physical wound.
“Hush now,” Sarelle said softly. “I’m sorry. I did not know you had such deep pain.” After a moment she added. “I suppose we all do.”
Caerwyn wasn’t sure what that meant, but she felt better soon enough and was sniffing away the last of her tears. “It’s I who am sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”
Sarelle knelt next to the bed so their heads were closer. “Oh I think you know exactly where that came from. I wager you are old enough to remember the Great Purge. I do not doubt you’ve lost much and lived a hard enough life. It is our fate as drahksani, I fear.” Sarelle reached out again and laid her hand on Caerwyn’s forehead. “Take this.” Suddenly a great feeling of peace and living energy flowed into her. Caerwyn watched and could see the toll it took on the other woman. She was giving of her own resources to restore Caerwyn to herself.
“Thank you,” she said, and the words could not express her actual gratitude. She sat up slowly now, much more able to move and reached for the dress. It was not what she would ever choose to wear, but it was a gift from a woman who had already given her so much so she accepted it without comment.
Sarelle rose and began gathering a few things, packing them into a satchel.
Caerwyn found the dress did not fit well, but again she said nothing. She could live with it. She was a slightly taller and larger woman than Sarelle. The cloth was quite snug at her shoulders, bust, and hips. The hem of the dress fell to her knees where she suspected it was mid-calf for the other woman. Moving, especially through the forest, would not be easy in this, but she would make do.
“Thank you,” she said again, not knowing what else to say.
A business-like manner had returned to Sarelle. “You can thank me by taking me to my s— nephew.”
Caerwyn nodded and they left.
Sarelle called out to her husband as they passed by him cleaning up Caerwyn’s things. “We’ll be gone for a bit. May not be back before dark.”
He waved his acknowledgement then Caerwyn was leading Sarelle into the forest and to her kin.
7
Barami didn’t like any of this.
Not this new young pup with his wild strength and endurance, not Caer’s desperate need to find a drahksan to mate with, not being this far north. But mostly he didn’t like what was going on with these krolls. He couldn’t figure it out, and it bothered him.
He knew his own limitations well. He wasn’t a scholar or a great thinker. His mind had been honed on fighting, how to survive, and tactics. So he was aware that he knew precious little about krolls. But what he did know was fairly common knowledge, and generally ‘common knowledge’ came from a long series of observable, similar instances. People just know that some birds flock together while others fly alone. Some very few might know why, but most don’t care, they are just aware of these facts. It was the same with the krolls. They were solitary, only generally banding together to hit a larger target, but then quickly doing their own thing once that target was destroyed. ‘Helping’ a fellow in need… that wasn’t anywhere in the general knowledge of the beasts.
Something was wrong. The annoying thing was, he was certain he should know what it was. There was something… some scrap of knowledge tugging at the edges of his thoughts. He was certain that if he could recall that, this would all make much more sense. But it wasn’t coming. There was too much else on his mind.
Jais groaned… again. The boy was still only semi-conscious after his one awakening earlier that day. Barami sat next to him, restraining him when he tried to move too much. It wasn’t easy, the boy was ungodly strong, even when he wasn’t really trying.
Jais’ leg twitched, the tip of his boot wavering. It wasn’t anything serious, just some dream most likely. Barami looked Jais over.
This was the man Caerwyn wanted?
All he could think was: the boys’ boots needed new soles.
He rose with a sigh, then paused.
A noise in the woods alerted him of someone approachi
ng. For a second he was torn, stay here and guard the boy or find a better vantage point to see who was coming. He stayed. Caer would kill him if he left the boy. He drew out Oken-adi, his long-bladed sword. The name, translated from his mother tongue, meant ‘stalwart friend’. It had been given to him by Caerwyn. A prized possession.
Whoever was coming knew something of forest lore. They weren’t crashing through the brush, but they were far from silent. He did not think it would be Caer, she was much more careful, like a panther moving through the jungle. Nor did he think it was another kroll, it was moving too slowly and carefully and soon he could hear human voices, speaking the common tongue of the north that Caer had taught him.
“Well, where to now?” This one seemed commanding, but the voice was young and brash with a hint of arrogance.
“Give me a moment. The tracks are not that fresh, and the ground here is dry.” No expert tracker, but someone who knew enough to follow the three of them here. This voice was also young, but more uncertain, if deeper and richer sounding.
Both voices were male, and the third which spoke up a moment later was as well. “Alnia will be a wreck if anything’s happened to Jais.”
Barami grimaced. So, these were townsfolk coming to look for their friend. He lowered his sword and waited for them. They pushed through the brush a short while later.
“What did you…?”One of them, a boy who was reed thin and tall, going through a growth spurt no doubt, began speaking but his words trailed off as the full scene unfolded before him. Barami hadn’t moved Jais far, to the nearest spot of clear and level ground, which meant the bodies of the two krolls were still nearby. The eyes of all three boys went wide as they took in the two dead beasts and the rest of the scene around them.
Next to the reed thin one was a boy who was nearly all man now, taller than his companion by a half a head and well filled out, built like an ox. “What happened?” that one asked.
Barami wasn’t one for extensive conversations. “Your friend killed one kroll. I killed the other.” It was an adequate summary even if it lacked a lot of the more important details.
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