by Mary Vee
Steward dabbed at his wounds. “We best keep moving. They may come back.”
“All right,” said Gilbert. “Lend me your walking stick. I can’t see anything with these hanging vines in the way.” He grabbed the cane, leaned forward against Promise, and parted the vines. “I see a flicker of sunlight ahead. Possibly a small clearing.” He spit out a mosquito. “We’ll dismount there.”
A gentle breeze wove through the jungle of plants and across the trail cooling Gilbert and his team. The farther they rode, the more the wind blew, flinging branches and howling like a wild dog or coyote.
“Sire,” Ben shouted frantically from the back. “I think I heard a bear growl. Whatever it is, it’s keeping pace with me.”
Gilbert tucked his head and urged his horse. “Faster, Promise.” His destrier dodged obstacles and bravely broke through the path for the others. At last, they came to a clearing.
Gilbert slid off his mount and guided Promise out of the way. The rest of the team did the same, quickly dismounting and moving their horses behind them. “Prepare for an attack.”
They formed an arc and armed their weapons. The only noise was their rapid breathing. Gilbert fixed his eyes on the path, his heart pounding as loud as a war drum. “Where did it go?”
Minutes passed. One by one the squires lowered their bows. Ben sighed. “It must have been my imagination, sire. Sorry.”
“Couldn’t be,” Charles whispered. “I heard it too.”
Less than a moment later, the bushes rustled.
“Raise your weapons,” Gilbert commanded.
They whipped their bows into position and drew back the arrows as a giant bear sprang from the brush. It stood on its hind legs and bellowed a ferocious roar. A barrage of nasty bear breath blew into their faces. No one moved.
“Arrows away,” the steward commanded.
The archers, including Katia, released their weapons at his word. To their surprise, they hit the target with mortal accuracy. The bear roared then tumbled to the ground, dead.
“We did it,” Gilbert said, surprised at the success.
The squires cheered, celebrating with their fist bump salute.
Katia bowed to the king. “Congratulations. Tonight’s menu, sire, will feature fresh meat.”
A smile popped on Gilbert’s face. There hadn’t been many successes in his life. This one amazed him. He set his bow down and walked to the steward. “Thanks for shouting the command.”
The steward nodded. “I’m here to serve.”
Gilbert eyed the kill and beamed. They’d finally done something right. “I’m going to scout the next portion of the path. Will you join me?”
“Of course, sire.”
They left the others behind to care for the bear and horses and walked only a short distance. The steward pushed plant overgrowth out of the way. “These branches are too low, and the path is growing too narrow for riding. We could walk the horses, but it would be tight.”
“I agree,” said Gilbert. “Let’s see what the trail looks like ahead.”
They continued farther and found laurels and other vegetation growing into the path, creating a dense wall of green. “This is impassable,” said Gilbert. “We either have to go back or clear a new path.”
“I suggest we return to the meadow and search for a different way, sire.”
“There isn’t another path. I looked. Going back means going home.” Gilbert touched the knotted branches. “It’s like this brush walled off the mountain, forcing anyone who walked this trail to turn back and give up. I don’t want to do that. We’ll take turns cutting an opening wide enough for the horses. Hopefully, we can break through before nightfall.”
They returned to the camp. “Attention, everyone,” said Gilbert.
His team stopped their work and gathered near him. “The remaining path is impassable unless we cut a trail wide enough for the horses. We’ll split into groups of three and work in rotations. Those not working will rest. There doesn’t appear to be any other way to get through.”
Charles and Ben picked up their blades. “We volunteer for the first duty.”
Sybil joined them. “You can count on me, too, sire.”
“Good. You three will start. Daniel, Justin, and Jonathon will be the second team.”
The steward hobbled forward. “Count me in.”
“Then Katia, you, and I will be the third group.”
She looked up from her pot and smiled. “Thank you for including me, sire.”
The first team walked up the path. Their dedication to the task proved in the slashing of plants, crackling of broken branches, and trickles of tumbling vines echoing into the clearing.
The remaining squires sat on the ground joking with each other. “Since we haven’t had our turn to work on the trail yet,” said Gilbert, “we have the strength to prepare the meal. Daniel, Justin, and Jonathon help Katia prepare the meat. With everyone’s help, we can break through these bushes and camp on the other side tonight.”
“I appreciate the help, sire.” Katia handed out tasks to her assistants.
“Steward, are you able to help me groom the mares?”
“Yes, sire, I can manage that task. I’ll sit on this rock and inspect their legs for thorns and care for any other injuries.”
The horses helped themselves to a buffet of greens while Gilbert removed thorns and burrs from their coats.
At the appointed time, the second work team walked out to the path. Slashing and tumbling resumed as soon as Ben, Charles, and Sybil returned to the clearing. “It’s a lot of work, sire, but I think we made good progress,” said Sybil.
Katia poured water for them. “Drink. You’ll be back on duty before long.”
They gulped their entire portion and wiped their faces. Charles crumpled down in a thick patch of grass and groaned as he stretched his back. “My body aches, and I haven’t begun to do my share of the work. Oh, my sore muscles.”
Sybil plopped next to him. “The bugs are swarming around in there. I think some went up my nostrils.” She rubbed her nose and blew.
“Take your mind off of that with this.” Gilbert picked up a rock. “Here is a stone to sharpen your swords. After you’ve rested a little, prep your blades before returning to the path.”
The second crew’s rotation passed quickly. Gilbert, the steward, and Katia walked nearly fifty feet before they found the workers. “Good job! Take your break.”
Justin scooped freshly cut plants and tossed them at Daniel. “Hey, what are you doing. I’ll get you for that.” Daniel gathered an armful of leaves and aimed for Justin but then whipped around and flung them at Jonathon. The greenery flew into the air and tumbled onto the path.
“Out,” said Gilbert. “We have work to do.” When the second crew left, he drew his sword.
Katia whipped out two long knives, flicked her wrists, and swung the blades up and around. She tucked them back toward her sleeves and eyed her audience with a playful grin. “Ready?” She flipped them into an arc to the left and right, slashing the plants in the path.
Her skills amazed Gilbert. “I take back any doubts about your skills.”
She grinned and continued cutting on the left side of the trail.
Not to be outdone, Gilbert chopped and hacked vegetation on the right side, working faster than he might have to keep pace with her. At times he managed to take the lead. Even though his arm muscles burned like fire he wouldn’t let her know. “How are you two doing?”
The steward and Katia replied between slashes, “Fine, sire.”
He’d hoped for more conversation from them. Talking distracted him from the muscle aches. “Katia, I’m curious, what frightened you in the woods earlier.”
She paused briefly from her work and glanced at him. “I didn’t mean to create a problem, sire.” She lowered her head for a moment. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, Katia. Thanks to you, Ben heard the bear. Did you see or hear something that frightened you?”
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br /> “It’s hard to explain, sire. The colors, the trees, I don’t know what set off my fear, but I sensed danger deep inside me. Something more than the snapping noises.” She slashed through a thick laurel branch and watched it plop to the ground.
“I’m glad you did. We let our guard down for a little while and shouldn’t have.” They exchanged smiles and continued working.
The steward hobbled from one section in the center to the next and used his powerful strokes to clear as much as the others on his team. He supported his body on the walking stick while swiping at branches with his sword. Although Katia only used knives and Steward dealt with a disability, their group managed to clear as much as any other. Gilbert’s tired team cheered when the first group relieved them. They wiped their brows and swatted away the pesky bugs while walking back to the camp.
The schedule worked well. Each person had plenty of rest and felt energized to continue when their turn came. Several hours after the task began, Daniel’s teammates returned, dancing into the camp. “We broke through, sire. We didn’t think we’d see the end, but a field is visible.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Gilbert’s hands itched. He rubbed them together and still they itched. “Daniel, is the exit big enough for the horses?”
“Yes, sire. We made sure to groom it for the victory exit.”
“Good. Break camp. Make sure the bear meat is suitably packed then walk the horses through the path. We’ll rest for the night on the other side.”
Katia approached Gilbert, her arms filled with supplies to pack. “There is a problem,” she softly said. “Some of my things are missing, one of my knives, my big stewing pot, and several healing herbs.”
“The knife and herbs are small. Maybe someone tucked them away in a different satchel.” Gilbert looked around the campsite. “I must admit, I can’t figure out what happened to the big stewing pot.” He turned to the others in the camp. “Some of Katia’s cooking tools are missing. Search every satchel and the campsite.”
The squires set to work, checking every possible place. No one found the missing items. Ben continued looking by the path. He pushed back a few branches. “Sire. Everyone. Come here.”
Gilbert walked to the site. “What did you find?”
“There is a footprint here and a small bundle of herbs next to it.”
“Who searched these laurels?”
Charles looked at the footprint. “You placed us in groups the whole time, sire. Each of us can account for the others on their team.”
The steward excused himself to move near the footprint. “I don’t believe anyone from our group has a shoe that would match that imprint. I believe a thief broke into our camp.”
Gilbert kneeled down and looked closer. “How could anyone get through that jungle? We barely did, and we used the path.”
“It had to be a person trained in maneuvering through laurels, sire. We know a bear can move quickly through these tangled branches. Obviously, this person did also.”
Gilbert sighed. “Whoever did this wants to distract us with an investigation. Let it go. We will remain focused on the quest and do without those items. Everyone, grab your horse and head down the trail.”
They led the horses single-file through the path. Between swatting bugs and scratching itchy hands, arms, and legs, they had difficulty holding the reins. When they stepped out of the thick vegetation, the itching also took away the desire to celebrate.
Gilbert tied Promise to a branch then scratched without any relief. “I can’t stand it.”
None of them could.
Red splotches formed on their skin. Only Katia found the strength to resist the temptation. She looked at her arm. “We must have touched poison ivy while clearing the path, sire. Scratching will only make it worse.”
Gilbert pressed his arms tightly to his side for only a moment before the itching drove him crazy. “What can we do? Did we bring anything to treat it?”
She thought for a moment. “Yes, sire. While you were visiting Vista, Elizabeth’s daughter played in some poison ivy. Cook spread oatmeal over the little girl’s infected skin and told her to leave the potion on all night and not scratch.”
“Sounds awful.”
“It is. The poor thing cried most of the night, begging to take a bath. The good news is, Cook knew how much you liked oatmeal and insisted on packing enough to serve the entire camp every day of the quest.”
“She said I liked that nasty gruel-oatmeal stuff?”
“Sorry, sire. I believed her.” Katia laughed. “I’ll try to make you something different.”
The squires and steward scratched their infected areas. Gilbert did too. “They’re fidgeting like monkeys doing a dance. Very well, prepare the oatmeal treatment.”
Katia called the steward and Justin to help with preparations. They made the oatmeal in the only pots still in the supplies. They were smaller and barely held enough to give a small portion to each person. Despite the annoying itching, the aroma stirred up their hunger. Ben and Charles sneaked over to the food while Katia wasn’t looking. As they reached to steal a taste, she turned around. “Get away from my pot, you thieves. This is for the oatmeal treatment.”
Ben and Charles attempted a salute. Desperate to relieve the itching, they turned their misery to a laughing, monkey dance around the oatmeal pot. The most amusing performance award went to the steward who danced on one leg and a walking stick while scratching his arms.
Katia stirred the pot one more time. “All right. Line up. Fill your bowl then find a place to sit down and spread the oatmeal on all your infected areas. Make sure it is cooled first. And don’t waste any. After all, this is the king’s favorite meal.”
Gilbert rolled his eyes, which of course made everyone laugh all the more.
Before long, goopy paste covered their face, arms, and legs. They looked more like sea monsters than warriors on a quest. Katia cleaned the pots and started a stew using the bear meat.
Globs of oatmeal dripped onto the gear and horses’ coats as the scribes set up camp for the night. The remedy seemed to stop the monkey dance but started a squirming, fidgety-jiggle. Never had they laughed so hard, itched so badly, and sweated so profusely at one time.
The bear meat had a tender, delicious flavor. A bit greasy, but soft and savory. After cleaning up the meal, they lay on top of their blankets. A few squires fell asleep right away.
Gilbert woke later, unsure of the time other than the moon still shone. Grass, dirt, and his blanket stuck to the oatmeal. He quietly slipped away from the snoring camp, hoping to find a nearby pond or stream.
Outside the area, he rounded a bend and found a little stream with crystal clear water. Clumps of crusty oatmeal chipped away and fell to the ground. Without a second thought, he jumped in. Clothes and all.
“Ooooooo! This is the coldest water I’ve ever felt.” The chill seeped deep into his bones. He quickly scrubbed off the oatmeal. His lips quivered and his shoulders trembled. His legs barely moved toward the shore and out of the water. The cold air blew against his wet skin. Water droplets soaking his clothes seemed to freeze in place. He rubbed his limbs and forced his legs to bend.
Step by trembling step, he wobbled back to the camp. His lips quivered. He ran to the supplies, spilling a stack of small pots. The thud and clanking woke the whole camp.
Charles peeked out his tent. “Hey, how did you get the oatmeal washed off?”
Gilbert grabbed a clean blanket and wrapped it around him. His teeth chattered louder than a woodpecker pecking a tree. “Th…there is a st…str…stream,” he paused to wrap the blanket tighter, “ju…just around that thick ve…veg…vegetation over there. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.”
The squires and Katia ran to the stream followed by the hobbling steward. Gilbert held the blanket tight around him and followed them. He couldn’t wait to see their faces when they sank into the frigid water.
“Aieeeee!” they screamed.
Katia tested the temperature with
her toe. “That’s cold.” She sat on the edge, refusing to leap into the water.
Charles swam to the shore free of oatmeal. “Brrrrrrrrrr.”
Back at the camp, several squires stoked the fire, building it until it was blazing high above their heads. They huddled close to the flames, soaking up the warmth. “Ahh.” They rubbed their hands near the heat then turned and warmed their backs.
Katia changed to dry clothes. She unwrapped her long hair freeing it to dry then made the king’s favorite meal for everyone.
Jonathon looked at his arms and legs. “I’ve red splotches all over me.”
Katia picked up last evening’s pot and giggled. “Anyone for more oatmeal medicine?”
“No,” they shouted.
Sparkling sunlight reflected off dew clinging to grasses and flowers. Gilbert breathed in a long, deep breath. The scent was almost like the air in Vista. He joined the steward by the fire. “Have you noticed a difference in the air?”
Steward inhaled deeply. “Yes. I’m not used to tasting sweet air like this.” He inhaled another breath. “I can’t remember the last time I left Aerlis. I’m not sure I ever have left our borders. There was a time, though, when our kingdom had a scent comparable to this, but better. Sadly, it was a long time ago.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Gilbert held his hands near the blazing campfire. The steward sat down near him and leaned toward the heat. “You look deep in thought, sire.”
“I am.” He turned his hands and warmed the other side. “When I visited Vista, the flowers and air smelled fresh, and I felt strong. I made decisions without doubting myself. I had motivation to get things done. When we crossed back into Aerlis, that changed. It was like an angry spirit took over me, kindling all the problems we’d suffered into a raging fire. I felt….” He searched for the words.
“Useless,” said the steward. “Like standing at the base of this mountain and looking up at something so much bigger.”
Gilbert sighed. “Exactly. The weird thing is, with all that has gone wrong since the day my father died, even the dragon attack at the Banyan Tree Forest, I still feel this quest is the right decision. Does this make any sense?”