by Sandra Elsa
#
The man had said he killed the soldier that injured his son, but where there was one, there was often more. Johann took the first watch.
When he woke Pink, somewhat past midnight he reported all quiet and she took a position a short distance from camp and settled down with her back against a rock and a drowsing Angel watching behind her.
Early in the morning, with the moon casting an eerie glow over the forest, Angel tensed, focusing sharply on something behind her. Cautiously she turned to see what had caught his attention. In the distance, barely within sight, she caught the faint motion of a large dark form slinking from tree to tree.
When she could discern what crept steadily closer to her position, Pink’s pulse raced. She reached for her staff knowing it would be of little use. The only time she had heard tell of a wolf as large as the one that now approached, was in the tale the drunk miner had told back at the inn. And an arrow to the chest hadn’t stopped that one. At least, she consoled herself, he’s not as big as the one that man claimed he saw. Quickly she scanned for a pack and was relieved to see no others.
Angel stomped a hoof and snorted. The wolf stopped, nearly disappearing into the ground. When he reappeared, he was considerably closer. Pink jumped to her feet and ran towards camp to awaken Johann. Before she traveled five steps a deep voice brought her up short.
“I smell blood,” the tickle in her mind was reminiscent of Lorn speaking to her.
She stopped, turning slowly back to the wolf, sweat trickled down her back, as she fought against her instincts—which were telling her to awaken the wizard in all due haste. She thought back at it, “There is an injured boy here.”
“Will he die?”
“No, I saved his life.”
The wolf’s disappointment permeated her mind through the connection. “Then I’ll be moving on. I must find food.” He stood upright, rising to a little more than half Angel’s height, then disappeared back the way he had come.
Pink sat back down, her trembling legs turning to jelly, trusting to Angel to let her know if the wolf returned. The rest of the night passed quietly. She woke Johann just as the sun’s rays shone over the horizon.
The stranger still lay beside his son but his color had returned. He looked to be resting peacefully rather than sleeping like one of the dead. Beside him, the boy too looked restful. Blood still streaked his face in a pattern tracing back through his light brown hair to the wound that no longer existed. His breathing was labored from the swelling in his chest, but both looked well on their way to recovery.
Johann dug through the packs and came up with breakfast. “All quiet?” he asked.
“We saw a wolf earlier this morning. A big wolf, but he was alone, and left peacefully when he knew we’d spotted him.”
She tactfully omitted the part about speaking to it. Johann was a good friend and he obviously saw a lot of potential in her, but she wasn’t quite sure he would believe she could speak to animals; some animals anyway. She wasn’t even positive she hadn’t dozed off and dreamed the whole thing. She‘d been having nightmares since Trell. “He stood over half Angel’s height. I’m glad he wasn’t hungry enough to try to make a meal out of us.”
To herself she wondered why he hadn’t at least attempted it. He had admitted he was looking for food, yet he had simply left. She knew she hadn’t struck terror in him. Perhaps Angel? “Between these two,” she said nodding at the two still figures on the ground, “and this wolf, I’m beginning to think maybe we should have some weapons besides our walking staffs.”
“We have magic, Pink. We can shield against violence, and a bolt of fire is far more effective than an arrow or a sword. I wouldn’t begin to know how to use either. I’ve always relied on magic and it’s always been more than enough.” The gloom that clouded his face when he spoke of using magic returned.
Pink considered asking what he found so horrible about magic but she decided if he wanted to tell her he would. Asking would get her nothing. Either he’d tell her it was none of her business or he’d ignore her. A man did not discuss the pain that was evident in his face without being ready to do so.
Back to the matter at hand, she said, “Still, you haven’t yet taught me how to cast a bolt of fire,"
Johann snorted laughter. "Just try to start a campfire on that mountain top over there and you should be able to level it."
"But is magic reliable? When that wolf crept towards camp last night the only thing that came to my mind was to awaken you. I didn’t like feeling defenseless. The old stories tell of how magic failed, usually just as it was most needed. I would feel more comfortable if I knew I could defend myself if I had to.”
“Magic has never failed me,” Johann said. “I’m afraid I can’t teach you to use weapons. Maybe when we get to Relante my grandson can help you.”
Over by the remains of the fire, a voice said, “I can teach her.”
“What does a farmer know of weapons?” Johann asked, turning to the man lying behind him.
“I was a soldier in King Lorth’s army. I was nearly killed in the campaigns against Telgar. They left me up here to heal. A farmer volunteered to keep me until I recovered.” He glanced at the slumbering form of the child. “Long story short, the farmer had a beautiful daughter. I married her, we had a child and I never left. I owe you my son’s life. Teaching the young lady to handle weapons is the least I can do.”
Blushing at the ‘young lady‘, Pink considered his offer, not sure if Johann would care for this delay.
“You may stay at my home,” he continued, pushing himself up to an elbow. “My weapons are still there. I also have access to weapons which should be more suitably sized for you, Lady. We live too close to the border of Telgar to let my skills go.”
A tight lipped nod from Johann told her, he wasn’t happy about it, but it was all right.
She accepted the offer enthusiastically. “That would be wonderful. I would be grateful.”
Leaning up on an elbow the farmer touched his fingers to his forehead, “Sergeant Dylan Marner, at your service, and in your debt, Lady. The good spirits were watching out for my son, when they brought you my way.” A look of confusion flickered across his face. “I still don’t understand why the horse stopped beside you, unless perhaps you can speak to animals.”
He was too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice the flush that burned her cheeks. She hadn’t stopped the horse. She had a fair idea who had, but Dylan’s comment was too close to her earlier thoughts.
Johann scowled at the man still lying by the campfire. “There haven’t been any who can speak to animals in hundreds of years.”
Pink was glad she hadn’t said anything about the wolf.
Pushing himself to a sitting position, Sergeant Marner said, “Whatever the reason, I’m glad she stopped. The only Healer in this area I thought had a chance of healing Jon lives a couple of days hard ride south of Trell, and I don’t know if my son or the horse would have made it there.”
“The horse stopped because she was nearly dead,” Pink said, looking over to where Angel stood dwarfed by the mare. Had her stopping been his doing? “And you must’ve been going to Tomas. He taught me Healing. Did you know him from your time as a soldier?”
Stretching muscles, stiff from the tension of the ride and the unplanned dismount, Dylan said, “No, I’ve met him since I’ve lived in this area. He fought for King Lorth’s father. Those of us who remained here in the north formed a loose knit group of border guards. It’s only practical to know the location of all the Healers in the area. Tomas is the best there is.”
“That’s what Johann kept telling me while we stayed with him,” Pink agreed.
“Johann?” Dylan questioned.
“That would be me, I'm Pink’s grandfather, and mentor. I served with Tomas in King Caryon’s Army.”
“I remember Tomas mentioning you. He said you were a great wizard.”
With a rueful shake of his head, Johann sa
id, “At one time that may have been true, these days I'm very out of practice.” With a swift change of topic, he continued. “Good fortune brought you our way. Your son wouldn't have lasted another day. How far had you ridden?”
“Nearly two days and nights, as fast as that beast could carry us, stopping only now and again for water.”
“Pink's right. She wasn’t far from dying either. No matter how strong they are, horses can’t go non-stop that long,” Johann chided.
“I'm well aware of the limitations of horses.” Dylan’s voice was husky with emotion. “My son meant more to me than a beast of the enemy.”
“Just because the enemy rode her, doesn’t make her evil. Animals don’t choose sides.”
Angel chose that moment to loosen the knot Johann had put in the mare's reins. He caught them in his teeth as they fell away from the tree, and led the huge warhorse away from camp.
Dylan leapt to his feet and headed after them. “I need that horse to get my son home.”
“Don’t worry,” Pink said, “Angel is just taking care of her. He didn’t turn her loose did he?”
Slowing his headlong rush, Dylan admitted the truth of her words. “No, he didn’t.”
They followed the pair of horses and watched as Angel led the larger horse to a small pond. The warhorse drank deeply. Angel looked at Pink as if to ask why she had bothered to follow him.
Properly chastised, Pink turned around and went back to camp to set out breakfast for Dylan. She checked the boy. His breathing still erratic; a slight surge of power from her fingertips released the swelling and congestion within his chest. At the same time, she drew breath and felt fire shoot through her lungs. The next breath was easier but still painful. She sat quietly, trying to get her lungs to work properly.
She heard Angel long before he arrived. He trumpeted from back by the pond and came charging to her side. Again the briefest shift in energy eased her pain and she was able to rise.
Johann could not possibly have missed it this time. He looked on in wonder as immediately following Angel’s nuzzle she got to her feet, as though she had done nothing.
“I sure would like to meet your daddy,” Johann whispered to Angel. “More than a familiar aren’t you?”
Without further enlightening him, Pink agreed, “Much, much more.”
The boy on the ground breathed easily. Angel head-butted her, scolding her for having healed without him.
“You can’t be everywhere can you? If you constantly watch me, who’s going to watch out for all the mistreated horses.” She affectionately rubbed a hand under his forelock and then scratched his withers.
Dylan appeared shortly, leading the warhorse. “I’ve never seen anything like him. He whinnied, tossed her reins to me, and bolted back this way. Did something happen?”
“I dared to Heal your son without his Majesty’s presence,” she said with a smile.
The boy moaned softly and sat up, eyes wide, screaming, “Daddy, daddy, da…”
Eyes rolling wildly he took in the campsite and calmed. His father knelt beside him and ruffled his hair affectionately.
“It’s all right, Jon, we’re with friends.”
Pink smiled down at the boy. The terror left his eyes as he took in the friendly faces surrounding him. He scuttled closer to his father.
“How did we get here?” he asked, voice low, still uncertain about these strangers.
“Your daddy brought you here, he saved your life,” Pink answered.
“Where?” He looked at the distant mountains to the north and west as though they could tell him his location. For all Pink knew they might.
“He was taking you to a Healer. We just happened to be closer.”
He turned repentant eyes, glistening with tears, up to his father‘s face. “I’m sorry daddy. I should have listened to you.”
Dylan wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “It’s all right son, it’s over, and as long as you learn from your mistakes, no harm done. If I ever signal you to stay down again, you listen without question.”
The boy nodded solemnly at his father, “Just before I hit the ground, I saw you come runnin’ and the last thing I thought to myself was, ‘I've gotten us both killed,’ don't worry father, I'll never disobey again.” Then he gave an impish smile and added, “Least not while we’re patrolling. How did you manage to beat that soldier?”
“I used to be a fair soldier myself, son. We patrol in the guise of farmers, but we are never without our weapons. I haven't shown them to you since this was your first round and you're just beginning to become competent with a sword, but the staffs we carry are considerably more than staffs.” Dylan grabbed one from beside the packs and twisted the grip on the top. It fell in two pieces, revealing a finely crafted blade. The dark stains along its length showed that he had not even paused to clean it in the emergency of his son’s injuries.
Ruefully he gathered it up, reached down into the lower half of the staff, pulled out a rag and some oil, and sat down to give it a thorough cleansing.
Johann disappeared during this conversation. When he reappeared, he carried the water skins, freshly filled from the pond. He handed one to Jon and the boy drank eagerly, only to be stopped after a couple of swallows by his father. After the water settled on his stomach, Jon attempted to get up.
“Whoa, youngster!” Johann exclaimed. “You need time to rest. You nearly died yesterday. Your injuries have been healed, but it will still be some time until those muscles are ready to do much of anything. You lie still while we strike camp.”
They saddled the warhorse and repacked their gear. Dylan placed Jon and the packs on the horse, and they began the eastward trek.
Chapter 11