Leon, at least, was relieved to be over that hurdle. Then he remembered her father’s corpse in the clearing and groaned inwardly at what needed to be shared.
“Come on over here. Umm…why don’t you sit down?" He shifted to English and addressed Reed, "Hey, man, can you grab her something to drink, maybe a bite to eat?” He gave Reed a knowing look, and Reed returned it with a sad nod.
“Haddie, Reed and I went back to the camp, but the horde is mostly gone, chased downriver by the Vin.”
“Oh, that's horrible, but as long as they have access to the river, they should be fine.” A quiet sob escaped her chest, “They killed everyone with me, Leon, everyone! I thought they must have killed Reed too, I’m so glad you all made it!”
“How’d you escape?”
“One of my escorts, I think it was cousin Mendleton, told me to hide in a hollow stump while we were being chased. I was so worried for everyone, but he made me promise I would stay until he returned. Only, he never did. I stayed there all night.”
At the last, she broke down and heavy tears streamed down her cheeks. Leon, having grown up with a crusty old cowboy like Gus, simply didn’t know what to do with a sobbing woman whom he had only just met. He awkwardly patted her back until Reed plunked down next to her and wrapped an arm around her thin shoulders in a gentle embrace.
“I’m so sorry Haddie. But there’s something else you need to know.” Leon paused, not knowing how to continue. He figured there was no good way to say what had to be said so he opted to just spit it out, “Haddie, when we went back to camp, we found your father…”
“Why didn’t you say so? Where is he now? How come he didn’t send some men back with you to at least help…” Leon held up a hand to stop her.
“No, Haddie, we found his body. He and…well, lots of folks from the horde. They’re dead. I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you…”
Haddie's face contorted in anguish while a silent sob shook her body. Then she melted as Reed pulled her in close. Leon put a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed before deciding that Reed, despite the language barrier, offered better comfort than he knew to give.
He got up, made sure Rezzin had everything he needed for helping Sved, then shuffled over to the Hootsi.
Dimples was awake. Tied up tight, he wasn’t going anywhere any time soon; yet he missed nothing with a silent, wary expression in his intense green eyes.
As Leon approached the man, an overpowering scent of blood and musky body odor hit him. Here he thought he had been living rough! Dimples was the sort of guy who made a mountain man legend like Jeremiah Johnson seem civilized by comparison.
“Can I get you some water or something?”
Maybe a bar of soap and a couple dunks in the river?
Dimples studied him stoically, eventually nodding yes.
Leon slowly fed him from one of their skins, one little swig of water at a time, so he wouldn’t sputter too much.
“I’m Leon Waldman. Can you give me your name?”
Dimples opened his mouth to speak, then closed it as if considering something, when he continued his voice was deep and raspy, “Your people have already taken my name. I have no name left to give.” Leon cringed.
“Listen, man, I know it doesn’t seem like it, but those guys weren’t my people, and neither me nor Reed,” he pointed over in Reed’s direction, “had any part in what they did to you and your friends. We were their prisoners as well, for all intents and purposes.”
The man studied Leon for a long while, before giving him a silent nod.
“Is there something I can call you then? Ferschall mentioned you had a nickname…Dimples?”
He scowled in disgust but shrugged. “Dimples is about as good as I deserve. Sure, call me Dimples.”
Leon couldn’t quite figure out what to make of the guy. “Well, anyway, I’m sorry I tied you up. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t wake up thinking we were your enemy. Like I said, I had nothing to do with what Ben and his men did to you and your men.”
Dimples just shrugged again, so Leon continued, “In fact, I wanted to thank you for what you did last night. You saved my dog for sure. That guy would have put an arrow through him if not for you."
No response.
"Regardless, I’m just glad I was able to find you and drag you out of the woods before the smoke from that brief forest fire got you first, it turned pretty smoky in there for a while. Until the rain snuffed things out at least.”
Leon knew he was rambling, so he stopped and simply grinned down at the man, thinking he had found some common ground. Only Dimples continued to ignore all the social cues for his overtures of friendship.
“Where are the men who fought me in the canyon?”
“No idea. The Vin were after them. They may have them now for all we know. They shot the one warrior with us, and he fell into the river during the fight last night.”
Dimples’ countenance shrank, shame crept into his eyes. “I have no way to reclaim the honor that was lost and nowhere to go. Kill me and end this sorry excuse of a Hootsi man.”
Leon coughed up the water he had been attempting to swallow. He wasn’t willing to let the warrior give up on himself that easily. “Look, Dimples, you don’t know for sure that the Vin have the folks you are after. Even so, what were you planning to do? Kill them all?" Dimples nodded in a matter-of-fact fashion, but Leon ignored him and pushed forward.
"A tough old herder I know, one who shares the same blood as you, used to tell me the only way to keep the taste of revenge fresh on your mouth is to take a long pull off a bottle of hate every so often. But the problem with hate is that it's poison to a man’s soul. I’m not telling you to give up seeking justice for your friends, but I’d like to offer you another path, for the time being at least.”
Dimples looked up. Leon could tell he was trying hard and failing at not appearing interested.
“Come with us, Dimples. Come with us into the Wild Forest. We are heading to skirt the borders of the Ageless Clan. You’ve been stranded out here just like me. Come with us, and let’s find a new path together with these people. You just might be surprised where that path leads.”
“I will kill those men if we see them again.” He glanced at Leon to see if he would protest.
“When that time comes, you're going to have a decision to make, and I won’t get in your way if that’s what you're asking.”
“It has been said the Wild Forests are an Emerald Ocean that leads to western skies. My people speak of legendary beasts and magical creatures that inhabit these forests. If my life is forfeit, I think I would like to see these sights before I am no more.”
“Ferschall sure seemed to think you were an honorable person. If you promise not to hurt us, your word is good enough for me." Dimples nodded. "Good. Now that you're with us, you should know we have to leave before the Vin return or we’re all as good as dead. So, want to help me bring in some of the supplies we scavenged? Then maybe get yourself something to eat…or maybe have a bath before we head out?”
Leon could tell Dimples was taken by surprise when he sliced his bonds and helped him to his feet. The man was still apprehensive, but who wouldn't have been in his shoes?
Together they helped drag the cart into their improvised camp. When Dimples heard the growling and cooing and peered in to discover what was in the kennel, his whole demeanor shifted once more. For a few brief moments, the stoic warrior disappeared. To Leon, he suddenly looked more like a kid standing before the candy aisle. The guy really treasured animals with claws and talons.
Chapter 17
As they traveled into the depths of the forest, Leon once more resumed his role as a language teacher for Reed. This time, Reed was an intense and avid student. Leon could tell that a certain redhead who gave praise at every small step along the way was as good a motivation as any. Though Reed wasn't the uncanny student that Ben represented, he was quicker on the uptake than Leon would have thought likely.
&
nbsp; Still, the trip wasn't easy. On their first week of travel, Leon suffered insomnia each night over fear that the Vin would find them, that they would come screeching in from the branches above like demon phantoms with red eyes and cold fingers reaching out to clasp him and steal his power. Rezz did his best to put his mind at ease when Leon woke up shouting for the third night in a row.
"Leon, the Vin are flesh and blood, same as anyone else. Tribal talents have allowed many of my people to master the art of absorbing life's energy. It is true my fellow tribesmen are dangerous warriors, but they are not all astute trackers, and fewer still would care to follow us into these woods." Leon wanted to believe his new ally but thought he walked a fine line between making a point and undermining it with his own unique skill set. Rezz was an exceptionally skilled woodsman.
Both Rezzin and Dimples worked together to use all their considerable knowledge of woodcraft to hide their tracks and cover their trail. In the end, it was the lively rhythm of forest sounds that followed in their wake and gradually ate away at his anxiety. It took time, but Leon eventually came to believe there would be no pursuit.
The endless green of the forest, both above and below, capsulated Leon and his traveling companions, giving him an appreciation for the perspective of an ant in an earthly garden. Its dark depths spoke of an immeasurable vitality that continued to impress upon him a need for wary vigilance. But the bulk of the unease it engendered was displaced by the wonder it created through the sheer magnitude of foliage it housed and the diversity of species it held.
The loss of Shana continued to weigh heavy on Leon’s heart. Many times, he questioned what it was that held him back from diving off that cliff behind her. Was it loyalty to Reed and Sved? Was it jealousy at her growing affection for Cooper? Or was it cowardice, plain and simple? He wanted to believe it was the former but was never very good at pinning down his own motivations. Whatever they were, what was done was done. He held tight to the hope that she and Cooper somehow made it far enough downriver to join the protection of the remaining horde.
As they traveled, Rezzin, or Rezz, as Leon took to calling him, continued to look after Sved’s injured leg, treating it with forest herbs and clean cloth as best he could. He even attempted to teach Leon some herbal lore. "Leon, this small mossy plant is called Reaver's Relief. It grows in densely wooded areas throughout Fayden and when ground up into a poultice and applied to a wound, it can help to prevent infections…" Leon marveled at the knowledge the Ranger Guard possessed and tried to learn as much as possible each time the man offered advice.
Initially, Sved moaned the days away in agony from his perch atop the cart. Haddie fussed over him a couple of times a day, and Leon had mixed feelings when she did. His turn to push the cart would either be punctuated by Sved's grumbling or her steady stream of questions.
After about a week the moaning and grumbling dwindled. Leon almost wished it hadn't. If a return to good-natured sarcasm and snark were any indication of an overall improvement in the health of an injured person, Sved was quickly progressing into a glowing specimen of vigor.
Reed made some significant changes as well. As his proficiency with the Fayden language grew, so he and Haddie grew more inseparable. In an ironic way, it actually made perfect sense that the one who could never seem to pipe down would be so smitten with the one who never would pipe up. Leon made sure to explain such profound observations to anyone willing to listen. Yet, despite the constant ribbing, Reed took to wearing a smile more often than a scowl. It was a win for everyone as far as Leon was concerned.
By far though, Leon’s biggest surprise was Dimples. Upon his very first introduction to the griffin cubs, he had become infatuated with the furry creatures. He claimed he knew of no one before who had ever managed to tame such a beast, though many of his clan had tried over the years. He marveled each time Leon fed them and picked them up or held them close.
It came as no surprise to Leon that Dimples was the first of any of his other traveling companions which the griffin cubs allowed to come near. With time, they even tolerated allowing him to feed them, though they would snap at him if he attempted to touch their silky coats.
Still, Leon could somehow tell they would soon come around to allowing the Hootsi to touch them as well, and it made him glad. Each small milestone seemed to give the broken man a tiny sliver of hope in an otherwise hopeless existence.
The wooded path they traveled was a slow slog, and much to Merle's endless delight there were constant run-ins with exotic looking beasts that had to be chased away, but they were surrounded by beauty the likes of which Leon had never imagined. Spring was in full swing. The air was sweet with the new life of the forest. Carpets of exotically pungent wildflowers bloomed vibrantly in every open meadow they passed. Even the canopy above blossomed with flowering vines.
Their pace was light, and their days were long. Small creeks and streams provided ample locations to bathe and refresh themselves. The forests held an endless supply of delicious foods. These combined aspects worked to lighten the tension within the weary shoulders of all the travelers.
Reed even had time to resume training Leon on how to use the Blade, though his lessons were often punctuated by criticisms and correction from a certain little man with a bum leg. Despite the admonishments from the peanut gallery, Sved did add to Leon's training by instructing him on the basics of throwing his Blade, something even Reed agreed could be handy to know. Still, the majority of Leon's lessons were adjudicated by one of Reed's more volatile counter-personas, seemingly inspired by Gunnery Sergeant Hartman.
The exercise routine each evening was a test of endurance, but the Blade training afterward was worth the pain. Leon found the art of fighting with Blade was similar in form to a dance, just deadlier. The steps came easy when the pacing had a flow. Leon had always been a decent country dancer.
"Blades lack the reach of swords. This provides advantages and disadvantages. For instance, in tight settings fighting with a long sword may be a detriment. Then again, fighting one on one in a wide-open setting places the Blade wielder at the disadvantage. And finally, fighting without shield and armor requires speed and dexterity for compensation. It is therefore just as important to learn to pick the setting for the fight as it is to learn the styles used to wield the Blade."
Leon thought about what Reed said. Something just sounded off until a realization struck. "Ferschall didn't seem to adjust the setting when he fought the Hootsi."
"Ferschall didn't have a choice. As it was, he was extremely lucky he only got away with a few small nicks."
Leon thought back to the fight. At the time, it seemed obvious to him that Ferschall was in complete control of the fight for the entire duration of the struggle. Almost like he had been sparring with the man to appease the Hootsi clan's honor. Ferschall had just as much admitted to it after the struggle. However, Reed was the more experienced fighter and Leon deferred to his judgment.
"Focus, Leon. Take your stance, Blade up. I'm going to attack with an overhead swipe, and I want you to deflect the blow."
Leon tried and failed. His mind just wasn't in sync with how he needed his body to move.
"Come on, man, you're about as useful as a chocolate teapot right now!" Reed shouted before continuing with forced restraint, "You had this down yesterday. Focus! I'm going to attack. I want you to defend and counter. Remember, most Bladed fights are over in seconds. Your first counter may be the only one you get."
So far Leon had only ever been able to parry Reed's blows. The counters he had been trained to throw were easily deflected by his new instructor. Thus, once again, his parry absorbed Reed's blow and yet when he stepped into the next move with a backhanded slash, his feet were kicked out from under him, and he hit the forest floor with a painful thump.
"Leon, I know you can move faster than that, how come you won't commit to your attacks? You need to move with purpose! Stop tip-toeing through the daisies!"
"I don't want to hurt you, man
," Leon responded.
Reed's sour face broke out into a feral smile. "You think you can hurt me? Leon, I've been training to fight since I was ten years old, since well before I knew of our blood heritage. My instructors were masters of five unique fighting styles. I welcome the challenge, but a simple farm boy who's never even held a Blade before a few weeks ago won't be hurting me anytime soon. Now get up and focus! Let's do this again."
Leon simmered. Not so much at the disrespect that Reed exhibited in not acknowledging the difference between a rancher and a farmer, but more at the idea that Leon was somehow less worthy to wield the Blade. There was more to the Blade than its usefulness as a mere token of power, or even as a weapon. There was a connection there, he had felt it the moment he lifted the hilt.
I just need to find that connection again, let it feed into me!
Putting aside his annoyance and focusing on his Blade instead, he readjusted his grip on the bone hilt handle. He reached for the flutter of connection he had felt off-and-on over the past few weeks. Only after he found the trickle of power emanating from his Blade and into his arm did he adjust his stance and nod that he was ready.
Reed's Blade darted forward in a right-handed straight jab. Leon didn't think, he just acted. He stepped in and to the right, slapping Reed's Blade with his own as he moved. In the same fluid motion, he sliced inward toward Reed's shoulder.
The shoulder moved out of reach before he could connect. Some part of his brain told him Reed would be countering, so he continued to pivot, even as he slashed to the right, and then left, dropping down into a crouch as he did.
At the last moment, just before he was so low, he would need to roll forward to maintain his balance, a rush of power flowed into him, from his Blade. It pushed his hand forward. He tried moving the Blade to the right, but the power’s surge steered him to the left. He didn't fight the surge. His hand snaked out so fast he couldn't turn his head quick enough to follow its arc. His hand twisted as it moved and when it was fully extended the flat side of his Blade connect with something solid.
A Choice of Blades: The Blade Remnant, Book One Page 20