The next morning they set off in good spirits. Lore declared himself rested and his power fully returned. He rode in the driver’s seat with Camsen, and Vic rode in the wagon, he and Zauna seeming to enjoy one another’s company. The horses plodded along, but despite their slow pace, Camsen believed they should arrive in Hillcross well before nightfall.
They stopped for a light lunch and to rest the horses around noon, then started up again. They’d gone only a short distance when the road made a sharp turn. They rounded it, they found their way blocked by four men on horseback.
The men pointed rifles at them. One stepped forward. “This is as far as you go, gentlemen,” he said. Camsen recognized the speaker—Abner Rushland.
“Get down,” Rushland said. “We’re taking the wagon. And everything in it. Where’s that hellcat with the black horse?”
Relief flooded through Camsen. They hadn’t caught Renni. She must have made it to Hillcross.
“We don’t know where she is,” Camsen said. “Why have you stopped us?”
Abner’s lip curled. “Because we can. Because we’re not like the namby-pamby oldsters that decided they should let you go. We don’t know how you did it, but unlike our elders, we don’t believe that vision of Vito was anything but a trick you pulled so you could get away. Thought it worked, didn’t you? Didn’t know we had horses and knew a shortcut. Turns out that just like a lot of the other animals, the horses we had before went feral. But they were happy enough to come back for food and shelter—just like the goats and pigs.”
“And the food that brought those animals back to you,” Camsen said as he climbed down from the wagon, “where did it come from? Who got it for you?”
“Vito,” Abner responded, with his companions echoing the name.
“They’re talking about the sacks of feed I bought in Highport, and sent to you, right?” Lore said. “Your Vito had nothing to do with it.”
“Where’d he come from?” One of the men shouted. “I thought we killed him.”
“Blasphemer!” Abner yelled. He pointed his rifle at Lore.
Arm extended, Camsen launched a stream of fire at Abner. His horse reared. The rifle fired. The bullet missed its target, going just over Lore’s shoulder and tearing through the canvas behind him. Lore jumped down off the wagon seat on the opposite side from Camsen.
Vic came running around the side of the wagon. Another man fired. The rifle ball struck Vic’s arm, but it didn’t stop him. He ran forward as Camsen sent another blast of fire spraying across the four attackers. They let out screams as their horses reared and bucked. Abner dropped his rifle and fought to control his horse, but the burned and terrified animal jerked and reared, tossing him from its back. He rolled to avoid being trampled and struggled to his feet. By this time one of his followers had also been thrown, and the other two had all they could do to stay mounted.
Vic reached the man who’d been thrown, yanked him to his feet, and lifted him by wrapping his hands around his throat and holding him up while he kicked and fought for breath.
Lore went after Abner. Though bleeding from scrapes and probably badly bruised from his fall, Abner clearly hadn’t broken any bones. He doubled his fists, ready to meet Lore’s attack. “Come on, pretty boy,” he taunted. “You already know I can beat you.”
“Sure, with plenty of help, but you don’t have that now,” Lore said. He sounded confident, but Camsen headed toward them, doubting that Lore was much of a fighter.
Before he reached them, Abner had knocked Lore down and was pummeling him with both fists. But Lore surprised Camsen. Ignoring the blows he was taking, he got one hand up between Abner’s arms, and struck Abner’s chin hard with the palm of his hand, forcing his head back with a terrible suddenness. Camsen thought he heard something crack.
Abner let out a howl. Lore rolled out from beneath him, grabbed him by the collar, and hauled him to his feet. Abner tried to regain his equilibrium and push Lore away. Lore drew back his arm and drove his fist into Abner’s face. Abner fell back and landed hard, his head crashing against a rock. Lore stood over him, hands doubled into fists, waiting for him to rise.
He did not rise. Camsen put his hand on Lore’s shoulder. “I think you won that round and then some,” he said.
Lore didn’t move, just kept standing like that, watching Abner like a vulture eyes its prey. “He’s still breathing,” was all he said.
True. Abner’s eyes fluttered open, but only for a moment. He let out a groan and made as though he was trying to rise. Lore lifted a foot, put it down on Abner’s chest, and pushed him back. Abner did not resist; he lay there ominously still.
“Lore, I’m sure he’s lost consciousness again—if he ever actually regained it. He’s not a threat to you now.”
“Not now, maybe, but … I should finish him off, make certain he never bothers us again.”
“Look, you beat him in a fair fight. Well, fair enough. No use of power. You can be proud of that. But could you really kill a man who’s helpless like that? You know, I had to decide that when Jac Thornbridge was lying unconscious in the middle of the road after Renni sent her horse to attack him. Had the horse killed him, I wouldn’t have been disturbed about it. But I couldn’t take deliberate action to kill him when he was unconscious and possibly dying. I suspect that when you calm down a bit and think about it, you’ll feel the same way.”
Lore shook his head, but despite the negating gesture, his expression registered indecision. “He intended to kill us. You know that.”
“So did Jac, yet look what happened. The experience of being so near death changed him. It gave Ril a father, and Pescatil got a new citizen disposed to help the town recover.”
“Maybe. I know you and he became friends, but I also know Renni is plenty suspicious of him.”
“Renni has a suspicious nature. She doesn’t fully trust you either, you know.”
At that, much to Camsen’s relief, Lore turned toward him, grinning. “You’re right,” he said. “So what do you suggest we do about him? We need to get on our way to Hillcross.”
“Well, I guess the only thing we can do is what I did with Jac. Load him into the wagon and take him with us. One of us will need to keep a guard on him for the rest of the trip in case he regains consciousness and tries anything.”
“And suppose he dies along the way?”
“Then we’ll have to stop and find a place to bury him so we won’t arrive in Hillcross with a corpse. That’s what I’d planned to do about Jac Thornbridge.”
I’ll put him into the wagon. Until Vic mindspoke to them both, Camsen hadn’t realized he’d been standing directly behind them, listening to their conversation.
“Thanks, Vic. What did you do with the fellow you were choking the life out of? Is he alive or dead?
Alive. I let him go. Caught one of their horses and put him on it. He’s on his way back to Pescatil.
“If the other horses are around where we can get them, we could use them to help draw the wagon. Our road will be uphill all the way from here.” Camsen wished he’d thought of that earlier. It was probably too late now.
Vic picked up Abner easily and carried him to the wagon. Zauna looked out. “Are we safe?” she asked.
Vic nodded, and she climbed out and helped Vic get his burden inside.
Camsen had followed Vic to the rear of the wagon. He quickly filled Zauna in on what had transpired while she’d stayed out of sight in the wagon.
“I sat on Kyla’s coffin, determined to keep whoever was out there from getting her,” Zauna said. “I’m glad I didn’t have to do anything. I would have defended her with my life, had it come to that.”
Camsen smiled. “I know you would have, but I’m happy it didn’t come to that. Now why don’t you climb back into the wagon and join Vic in keeping watch over our new passenger? I don’t think he’s likely to regain consciousness, but you never know. Lore can ride up front with me. Just call out or mindsend if there’s any change in Abner’s condit
ion. Including if he stops breathing.”
“Do you think he’s hurt that badly?”
“Yes, I do,” Camsen responded, noting her worried frown. “We may have to make one more stop before reaching Hillcross—to bury a corpse.”
“Too bad my crystal ball is packed away where it’s too hard to get to. It would probably show me his future, if he has one. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” With that she climbed into the wagon.
Camsen went back to find Lore already in the driver’s seat. He also saw that Lore had picked up Abner’s rifle and placed it next to him on the seat. Probably a wise precaution. He climbed up beside Lore, and they resumed their journey.
§
As the wagon bumped along over the rocky, uphill road, Zauna and Vic had their hands full making certain the stored goods were packed tightly enough not to fall on them. Zauna noted Vic’s bleeding arm and insisted on bandaging the bullet wound he’d suffered, though he shrugged off the wound as though it was nothing.
They stretched Abner out beside Kyla’s coffin and got a blanket out to put over him. Zauna got another for herself, protection from the growing chill that filled the air as the wagon climbed higher into the hills. She told Vic he should get one as well, but he shook his head. I’m not cold, he sent.
“You ought to be,” she declared. “I wonder—you have extraordinary strength. Is not feeling the cold a part of it? I’m sure you used power when you lifted that man.” She pointed at Abner. “Look at him. He’s a big man, not fat but tall and muscular. I know Camsen couldn’t have lifted him, but you did it as though it was nothing.”
He shrugged. I’ve always been strong. That’s why Iston hired me. I could lift heavy blocks of stone that he couldn’t even move with a push. Maybe I was using power. If I was, I didn’t know it.
“You didn’t know you were gifted,” she said, repeating what Camsen had told her about Vic. “You didn’t know you could mindsend as a way of speaking.”
No. There was nobody to send to. Lots of times I wanted to shout out, to tell somebody how I felt, how it hurt when they thought I was stupid. I asked lots of questions, but nobody heard and nobody answered. Not until Renni and Camsen came along, and now you and Lore.
She reached out and patted his hand. “I’m so glad we found you, Vic. Now we can hear you and answer all those questions. And I have one for you. Do you think Camsen did the right thing in putting him,” she indicated Abner, “into the wagon and bringing him with us?”
Vic considered a moment before responding. I think so. It was better than letting Lore kill him. And he couldn’t take him back to Pescatil, now that we’ve almost reached Hillcross. If he stays alive until then, maybe we’ll find someone there willing to take care of him.
“He’ll be a danger to us if he wakes up.”
Yes. He looked at the still form, only the slight rise and fall of his chest indicating that he lived. I don’t think he’s going to wake up. Not ever.
§
Renni’s worried mindsent query, asking where they were, got an unexpected answer. Camsen sent back, telling her of the ambush and of their defeat of the men who’d planned to kill them and take the wagon and its contents back to Pescatil. He told her of bringing the unconscious and completely unresponsive Abner with them in the wagon.
“Why, Camsen?” she exploded. “That’s like carrying a cobra against your chest.”
Calm down, Renni. We’ll discuss it when we reach Hillcross, if he’s still alive by then.
To her disgust, he cut off communication with that. She could do little but wait impatiently for the wagon to arrive.
Hillcross had been a pleasant surprise. She’d found it a friendly little village, welcoming to visitors. She learned that people often came here to prepare for a hike into and through the hills. Hiking trails led from the town up into the hills and mountains that lay beyond it, and one trail could take an especially ambitious hiker all the way through the mountains to Discovery Lake, where a rustic lodge awaited. Because of this access, Hillcross had boarding houses, a comfortable inn, and wonderful little cafés. Since the weather would soon grow too cold for hiking through the mountains to their north, Renni had no difficulty finding a place where she and her companions could take rooms while they located and prepared Kyla’s resting place. It was a clean and comfortable boarding house, which offered lodging at a reasonable price, and was run by Mistress Lart, a pleasant, motherly woman.
Jora Lart, she told Renni, introducing herself, a widow with two grown sons, both married with their own homes, Together they’d established a business selling supplies for hikers. As this was their off-season, though they’d done very well through the summer and early fall, they’d be pleased to help with construction of the shrine for Kyla. They knew the surrounding hills well, and could lead them to just the sort of place they’d need.
Renni hadn’t told Mistress Lart the full story of Kyla, but she said enough that Mistress Lart said with delight, “She was gifted, and so must you and your companions be. We have people here in Hillcross who will be so thrilled to meet you.”
“You mean you have gifted here?” Renni asked eagerly.
“Yes, indeed. Mistress Silvern, our healer and Master Arwyn, the headmaster of our school. We love them dearly.”
Now Renni understood why they’d been told to come to this place. When the wagon finally rumbled into town, she raced to greet it and to tell the others the good news.
CHAPTER THIRTY
THE LADY AND HER GUARD
On hearing Renni’s news, Camsen decided they must take Abner Rushland, who still clung to life but had shown no signs of regaining consciousness, to the healer. Renni first led them to the boarding house where she’d secured rooms for them all. Mistress Lart gave them directions to the home of Mistress Silvern, the healer.
Weary as they all were, they headed there. Following Mistress Lart’s directions, they found the home, a small but immaculate cottage. Mistress Silvern, a tiny birdlike woman, greeted them cheerily. Camsen described Abner’s condition, telling her only that he had fallen and struck his head on a stone. She had Vic lift him down from the wagon and take him inside her home, but requested that the rest of the group wait outside.
“Can’t we just leave him with her?” Lore asked. “If she can heal him, he’ll be a danger to us. You didn’t tell her that.”
“Maybe I should have,” Camsen conceded. “I couldn’t decide how much to tell her. Let’s just wait and see what happens. If he’s healed, we’ll have to deal with him no matter what.”
Vic returned and let them know that the healer wanted to be left alone with her patient, and would send for them as soon as she’d determined the extent to which she could heal “the young man.”
She healed the bullet wound in my arm, Vic sent with a touch of amazement. I didn’t ask her to. She just saw the bandage Zauna put on it and asked about it, and I told her a bullet had hit me but it didn’t hurt. She said, “Let me look at it,” and she took the bandage off. She said it was a bad wound, but she’d take care of it. I told her not to bother, but she just said it wasn’t any bother, and she put her hand over it and held it there for just a moment or two, and when she took her hand away, the wound was gone, not even a scar left. So I know she’s good. I never knew gifted people could do that.
“It’s a gift only some gifted have,” Camsen told him. “Jac Thornbridge has it, I’m sure, but none of us do. We’re fortunate to find a healer here in Hillcross.”
They waited for some time. Night had fallen, and they all had grown restless by the time the healer emerged carrying a lantern. She hurried to them.
“I have sad news for you,” she said, her voice low and trembling with emotion. “The young man is beyond my power to heal. Oh, he still lives, but his condition is unchanged, and though I tried with all my strength, I could do no more than heal his bruises, burns, and other superficial injuries. I could not heal his damaged brain.”
“What’s to be done then
? Can we leave him with you, or is there somewhere we can take him where he’ll be cared for until he either improves or dies?”
“I can’t keep him here,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’ve never had such a stubborn case. I think it’s best if you keep him with you. I’ll come and check on him daily so long as he lives, if you wish that. But I have no room in my home for a long-term patient.”
Dismayed, Camsen looked at the others, feeling guilty now about making the decision to bring Abner with them. But what else could he have done?
Shall I go in and bring him back? Vic sent, looking as distraught as Camsen felt.
“It seems we have no other choice,” Camsen said.
Lore groaned. “I knew this was a bad idea.”
“As soon as we get settled, I’ll get my crystal ball and see if it shows us anything that offers a solution,” Zauna offered.
Renni glared at them all. “What am I supposed to tell Mistress Lart?” she demanded. “She’s been so sweet. How can I ask her to let us bring a dying man into her home?”
Camsen raised his hands in a gesture of despair. He had no answers.
Vic followed Mistress Silvern back into the house and emerged moments later, carrying Abner. Once again Camsen helped Vic placed him into the wagon. When Abner again lay next to Kyla’s coffin, Vic and Camsen came back out into the street, and Zauna also joined them. It seemed none of them wanted to go anywhere until they reached some decision about Abner, but none of them knew what to do.
Suddenly Vic jerked as though something had bitten him. He looked around, his eyes wide and staring. And then he spoke!
No, someone or something spoke through him. A deep voice issued from Vic’s mouth, but his lips did not move. “Don’t be afraid, children. Abner Rushland will not wake. Like the Lady Kyla, he will sleep until I choose otherwise. You need have no concern for or about him. Go back to your boarding place. Leave him lying in the wagon. He will be safe for the present. Later he will have a place in the shrine you will build. You have done well; you have taken life when you were forced to do so and spared it when you need not have. You have shown mercy in those instances, and you have seen how death may be as impermanent as life. I who live outside of time see time differently from you mortals. For me it is as wind is to you, something that is always in motion but, like the wind, can flow in any direction. It can be gentle and slow as a zephyr or it can swirl in a fierce and dangerous gale. It can be a soothing melody …” The words paused and the soft, sweet sound of a piper came to their ears. “Or,” the voice that came from Vic continued, “it can be rapid and fierce and stir the soul to anger or dread.” Again the sound of pipes, but now loud with a martial beat, accompanied by drums, a sound that made its hearers think of soldiers going to battle, of war and death.
Deniably Dead (Arucadi Series Book 4) Page 30