Pulling a small knife from the sheath at her waist, the Princess proceeded to cut away the material around the wound in the Lieutenant’s leg. He did his best not to flinch as she cleaned it, but his occasional sharp intake of breath made it clear she needed to quickly sprinkle crushed Twinkleberry powder in the wound to lessen the pain. With needle and thread she deftly sewed the flesh together. Funny, she couldn’t sew a stitch into cloth, but somehow this was different.
Sofia looked up from inspecting her work and found the Lieutenant gazing at her with a wondrous look on his face.
“Princess, where did you learn how to do that?” he asked, the admiration clear in his voice. “I felt nothing.”
“You would be surprised at the things I have learned,” she retorted. “Now, lay still and rest while I do what I can for our young guardsman.”
Sofia stood up to stretch and heard a sound behind her just as Ronald hissed a warning. She spun around and came face to face with the archer from across the road. The shaft of a crossbow bolt protruded from the right side of his chest, his arm hanging useless. Held steady in his left hand was a loaded crossbow aimed directly at her.
The burning ember of her anger had been smoldering deep inside ever since that day at the Queen’s Court, and became an inferno that threatened to burn away all reason. How dare these men threaten her life, kill her escort and kidnap her maidservant? Along with the rush of desire to kill the man, came the realization that deep within lay the power to see it done with just a thought. Before she could act on that revelation, the attacker began to waiver, the crossbow clattering harmlessly to the ground as he slowly collapsed and died from loss of blood.
The Princess turned away and knelt beside the injured guardsman. She felt an overwhelming need to bury her desire to kill under a desire to heal. Forcing the anger back down, she was able to feel compassion for the young man as she saw the pain in his eyes.
“What is your name?”
“Gilfor, Your Highness,” he answered through clenched teeth.
“Be brave, Gilfor. I need you to live. Now, lay perfectly still so I can get this breastplate off of you and remove that bolt.”
The breastplate had absorbed most of the force from the shaft of the crossbow, but it had still penetrated his chest. After the breastplate was removed, Sofia was still unable to see the head of the bolt. It appeared to have gone in between two ribs and possibly punctured a lung. She would have to work quickly.
Again using her small knife, she cut away the leather and cloth surrounding the wound, at last exposing the bolt head. After cleaning the area as best she could using a little water and a strip from her gown, she sprinkled more crushed Twinkleberry leaf onto the wound to slow the bleeding and to deaden the pain.
The world around her slowly faded away as Sofia focused all of her attention on the tedious work of slowly removing the barbed head from the young man’s chest. Awareness returned as she tied off the last stitch and attempted to straighten up.
The muscles in her back and neck protested at the movement being forced upon them, which caused Sofia to groan out loud. Slowly turning her head, it became obvious that the Lieutenant had disobeyed her and was not resting where she had left him. She spotted him leaning over a fire stirring something in a pot. Horses were picketed in a line just off the road with saddles and packs stacked neatly to one side.
“Lieutenant Marton. Why aren’t you resting as I ordered, and how have you managed to accomplish so much in such a short length of time? I won’t have you tearing that wound open and bleeding to death.”
At the sound of her voice, Ronald quickly ladled some stew into a bowl and brought it and a water bladder over to her.
“Here, drink some water and eat before you attempt to stand,” he instructed.
About to give him an earful for taking that tone with her, and tell him she wasn’t hungry or thirsty, the world began to spin and her traitorous stomach growled loudly. Without a word, the Princess gratefully accepted the water and drank half before she could stop herself. Handing her the bowl, Ronald took the water, gently raised Gilfor’s head, and managed to get him to drink while Sofia continued to kneel next to them, soon staring into an empty bowl.
“Here, let me get you another. To answer your question, Princess, I have been able to accomplish a few things because you have been working on the boy for over an hour.”
Muttering to herself, Sofia attempted to stand but her legs felt like stumps and wouldn’t move. “Help me up, Ronald. I must get the blood in my legs moving again.”
Rather than merely giving her a hand, he bent over, grabbed her by the arms and lifted her up. She gasped as the blood rushed into her legs like a river of molten fire. Leaning against Ronald until her legs would support her, Sofia noticed that he had taken the time to change clothes. She glanced at his thigh, then looked him in the eyes.
“Your leg?”
“Apparently it wasn’t as serious as we first thought. It feels fine now.” With a significant look he continued, “There is barely a scar.”
He led her over to the fire and re-filled her bowl. As she stood there, eating more slowly this time, she spotted the two groups of bodies the Lieutenant had lined up at the edge of the clearing.
“Did you recognize any of the men who attacked us?”
“No, Princess. Nor could I find anything that would tie them to a particular country or province.” Searching her face, he accused, “You knew this was coming.”
“I suspected it, but I wasn’t sure whether they were after me or the item I carried in the coach.” She turned and stared off to the east as she felt a faint pull on her heart. “Either way, Ronald, as of this day, Princess Sofia Salidoris of Dahlian no longer exists. If you wish to join me, your life will be forever changed also. Nothing is more important now than following that coach and rescuing Floanne.”
Chapter Five ~ Time to Believe
Navon glanced down at the dead sorcerer, and then back to the ogre. He had heard tales of ogres who spoke, but you had to listen closely to what they said. What Sebastion just said made no sense. “I don’t understand. What is just beginning for me?”
“It’s alright, Navon. Ogres are hard to understand sometimes, especially Sebastion.” Emma gave the ogre a warning glance, and then continued, “Sometimes he says things he shouldn’t.”
She did not know what the Ancient One had told Sebastion about Navon, but her orders were clear. Shadow and protect Navon if needed. Say or do nothing that might influence him as to where he was going and when. It was up to the amulet to guide him now.
“You two have seven bodies to bury while I look over things here in the tent. The sooner that is done, the sooner we can get some sleep. I, for one, have had a very tiring day.”
Navon nodded in agreement and turned back to the body of the sorcerer.
“No, young one,” Sebastion cautioned, touching his shoulder. “His body, many spells be. Ogre I be, and magic no touch ogre.”
Navon stepped back for a moment and studied the ogre. Sebastion was at least several hand-spans taller than even his brother Altair. Leather pants, vest and boots, were the only clothing covering the ogre’s hairy body. A large, two-handed sword was strapped to his back with several short swords and knives attached to the wide belt around his waist. Navon shivered at the thought of coming face to face with Sebastion in a fight.
He suddenly felt drained, and slowly made his way over to the table to sit down, the events of the last few days weighing heavily on his mind. As he sat there and stared at the candle on the table, the memory of Emma lighting it with a touch of her finger flashed before his eyes. Raising his head he saw the look of sympathy on her face and blurted out, “You’re not human either!”
“No, Navon, I am not. My people come from a race of tree dwellers. I have a small amount of power that enables me to shift the light so I become invisible to anyone who looks in my direction. I am the largest of my clan and was chosen and trained by the Ancient One for oth
er duties.”
“The ugliest Em also be,” Sebastion chuckled.
“Sebastion!” Navon cried out as he surged to his feet. “That was very un-kind and totally un-true. I think Emma is very pretty and you owe her an apology.”
“It’s alright, Navon,” Emma said, blushing, and then glared at Sebastion. “He is just jealous. Sebastion is so ugly, whenever he goes home they hide all the little ones so he won’t scare them to death.”
With a huge smile that showed off his fangs, Sebastion headed for the opening of the tent. “Come, young one, work we have. Answers later be.”
As Navon and Sebastion began the arduous task of digging seven graves for the dead men, Emma carefully moved about the tent and inspected what she found, but touched nothing. She did not have a natural defense against magic like Sebastion. The sorcerer appeared to have been reading a history of the nation of Marlinor. It lay opened to a page depicting a map of the region with several of the Keeps circled in red. What that meant, she had no way of knowing, but noted the names of the ones circled. It might prove important later.
The tent was neatly divided between the sorcerer’s area and the small corner allotted to Navon. All of his weapons were carefully stacked behind the sorcerer’s cot. Even though the old man had the boy under some sort of spell, he obviously hadn’t trusted Navon with possession of his weapons. Once Sebastion cleared out everything that might be spelled, there should be enough room for the three of them to spend the night in the tent. Emma hoped that Navon would be too exhausted to ask any more questions tonight. She had no idea how to answer them. Tomorrow would not be a good day.
In the morning, Navon rolled over in his cot and came face to face with three hairy muzzles with fangs and yellow eyes that danced with excitement. The pups started nipping playfully at his blankets and the cot, threatening to tip it over.
“Alright, alright!” Navon laughed as he swung his legs out. “I’m getting up, but what are you three doing here?”
The young wolves turned and trotted toward the entrance of the tent, their job done. Just before passing through the flaps, the female turned, showed him what could only be described as a wolf smile, and continued with her tail flagged out playfully behind her. Shaking his head, Navon pulled on his boots, and then reached over for his sword, belting it on. He finally accepted the fact that Emma must be right, his life was in danger. He swore he would never be caught defenseless again.
The bright morning sun pushed away the darkness that had been shrouding Navon’s thoughts. Sebastion sat next to a fire with a steaming kettle hung over it, stirring something that smelled surprisingly good. As soon as the ogre spotted Navon, he ladled some of the stew into a bowl and motioned the boy over. Emma and the wolves were lying together at the edge of the clearing. She leaned against the shoulder of the elder male, running her fingers through his fur. The pups sat around a stump by the fire, apparently waiting for Navon to join them.
“Sit down and eat, young one,” Sebastion suggested, handing him the bowl. “Em and I talking be,” he started-- then stopped, growling. He took a deep breath before continuing. “Em is right, I must practice my speech. Navon, we know you have many questions, but most things you will have to discover the answers to on your own. I will tell you what I think is safe to be telling you.”
Sebastion stared into the fire for a moment, collecting his thoughts before he addressed the boy again. “Young one, the Elder Races have been waiting a long time for someone like you to be chosen. We live longer, and have longer memories than humans. What for you has become a distant legend is still very real for us. The number of Elder lives lost to the hatred of the Dark Lord will never be forgotten. He still lives, Navon, and his power is growing. You and others like you will be needed to prevent him from searching out and destroying all non-human life on this world.”
Navon sat motionless, spoon frozen halfway to his mouth as he tried to focus on the ogre. ‘Why me?’ was his first thought, then ‘Why not me?’ What had been the point of becoming the best swordsman and archer he could be, plus studying the herb lore with the old healer, if it wasn’t for the purpose of protecting and caring for others? The impact of what Sebastion told him slowly began to sink in. It took a moment before he could speak.
“But I thought the Dark Lord was defeated at the end of the Deluti War.”
Emma, feeling sorry for the ogre as he struggled with his speech, answered from her place among the wolves. “He was defeated, Navon, but the High Lord was unable to take the life of his own brother. Instead he cursed him to live with the pain of his injuries and the memory of how his lust for power brought about the total destruction of the Deluti. I believe the Spirit of the Deluti cursed the Ancient One to live with the shame of his failure to rid this world of a terrible evil.”
Something in what Sebastion had said ate away at one of Navon’s assumptions until he finally asked, “Emma, how old are you?”
Sebastion let out a hoot of laughter as Emma stood up and glared at him. “Laugh it up fur face. One of these mornings you will wake up with little pink ribbons in that beard of yours.”
She ignored the ogre’s continued laughter and turned back to Navon, whose face was red with embarrassment. “My age is not important and none of your concern. What is important is that we get you safely to the Ancient One before others are sent out to capture you. He will be able to explain all of this better than we, and help you learn about your power.”
Navon sat there with his head hung down and berated himself for such uncouth behavior, when Emma’s last word brought his head up with a jerk. “Power? What do you mean?” Unbidden, the image of the she-wolf’s thigh sprang up before his mind’s eye. It was completely healed without even a scar. He forced the image back down, not wanting to deal with it.
“Navon, anyone with even the slightest bit of ability, will sense the aura of power surrounding you. I happen to know that the power now comes from the amulet you wear, only because the Ancient One told me it had chosen you. Others will not know, and will try to use your power for their own gain.”
Absently stroking the fur of the wolf pup sitting beside him, Navon felt he needed to change the subject fast before he became overwhelmed and made a worse fool of himself.
“What of the wolves? Do they have special abilities also?”
“Because of their size, the wolves are just as intelligent as any human, and smarter than some I know,” she answered while looking at Sebastion, who only grinned. “What makes them special is their ability to communicate mind to mind. They don’t have speech like you and I, but through images and emotions they get their point across. Silver Star believes that eventually you will be able to sense their thoughts.”
“Silver Star?”
“My oldest and dearest friend,” Emma replied lovingly, her arm around the elder wolf. “He leads this small pack along with Drifting Snow, the one you healed. These three youngsters are theirs. Thunder Dancer, Shadow, and Moonlight, who appears to have taken a liking to you.”
As their names were called, each pup cocked their head in his direction, except for Moonlight, who laid her muzzle on Navon’s leg and gazed up at his face. Other than his brother Altair, he had stayed away from close relationships with anyone in the Keep. He believed they would not want to be his friend because of his differences. The young wolf’s eyes drew him in and enveloped Navon in a warm golden glow that shone with more than acceptance and understanding; acceptance of who he was and understanding of what he might become. The wonder of having a true friend began to erode the walls he had raised to guard his heart.
Unable to sit any longer, Navon stood up and stared into the forest without seeing. ‘Walk,’ whispered a voice from deep inside of him. “Please excuse me. I must walk,” he announced to no one in particular. Bending over to pick up his bow and quiver of arrows, he turned toward a small path leading into the forest. “Maybe I will get lucky and bring back some fresh meat.”
Emma and Sebastion could only w
atch in stunned silence as he left the clearing with Moonlight at his side, the other two pups close behind. They had not meant to drive him away.
Navon walked the path that appeared before him as it meandered through the trees. This forest was much older than the one surrounding his home as the trees were larger and farther apart. Their dense canopy of leaves blocked out most of the sunlight, which kept the forest floor open except for the occasional plant able to survive the gloom.
Moonlight’s presence beside him provided a much needed anchor for his soul. His hand on her shoulder was a link to the real world while his mind tried to grapple with fantasies suddenly come to life. The Deluti were legendary beings from the far distant past who had disappeared from the world, yet supposedly one of their Amulets of Focus had chosen him. For what? What did that mean?
Bright sunlight, blinding after the dim light of the forest, forced Navon to stop and shade his eyes. He stood entranced by the vision spread out before him. A large, white stone structure with a delicate spire in each corner, dominated a circular clearing. It was both the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and the most frightening. Nowhere was there any sign of life, not even a single blade of grass marred the white perfection of the clearing. The dirt path he had been on ended a few feet in front of him where it became a road paved with perfectly fitted stones. He glanced to either side and saw that even the branches of the forest giants dared not pass the boundary of white.
The pups stood rooted in place as they looked to Navon for reassurance. Was it safe for them to continue or should they turn back?
Seemingly stronger and closer, the voice in his head spoke again, “You must choose. If you return you will never be more than you are now and the Amulet will go to another. The path before you will hold many rewards, but is filled with danger. Once you start on that path, you can never turn back”. As Navon sought the eyes of the young wolf pressed up against him, the voice continued. “The she-wolf is the only one who may accompany you. She is bonded to you now and forever. Her life is in your hands.”
The Pain of Compassion Page 5