Sufferborn

by J C Hartcarver

  The creature’s head turned, alerting Gaije to Mhina, his little sister, who had wandered in from the forest. In alarm, he sent the hushed call, “Mhina, run!”

  She didn’t listen. She went straight for a nearby injured saeghar, sprawled and wheezing shallowly on the ground beside a thick tangle of brush. Gaije would’ve dismissed the lad as dead. She put her hand on his wound and held the pose until he jolted up and ran away without looking back.

  Gaije’s mouth dropped open. Had she just…? Yes! She healed him—with her hands! Mhina could heal. She’d never told anyone.

  The rider watched too, silent and calm. His sleek, shadowy form gave no indication of armor. The cocky bastard didn’t wear a shirt either. His horse stepped into the light from the shadowed space under a tight cluster of trees. Hands clad in black fingerless gloves clutched the horse’s mane. He also wore black bands around his biceps, and a long black sheet around his waist spilled down the horse’s side. His hair shone blue! It clung to his pale, sweaty body in sticky streamers.

  Gaije tried again. “Mhina, come!”

  She stepped toward the rider, murmuring, “You need help.”

  Gaije’s heart leaped into his throat. He cried out again, his lungs roaring like the fires eating his village. The blue-haired rider sat, watching. In a moment of anxiety, Gaije let an arrow fly. The rider’s wrist snapped up and he caught the arrow, his eyes never leaving Mhina.

  Gaije vaulted over the brush and dashed after her, taking his last chance to grab her and make a desperate run.

  The rider kicked his steed to gallop forward. The horse’s powerful legs beat Gaije to her. The rider leaned way over its side, hanging onto its mane with one hand, and scooped her up.

  Mhina let out a squeal.

  Gaije cried out again.

  Cradling the little one against his side, the strange saehgahn rode back through the burning village with Gaije’s frantic arrows flying past him.

  The last two arrows sank into the rider’s right shoulder blade and pierced the skin along the side of his neck. He didn’t bother to flinch. The surviving marauders followed him into the cold, dark forest.

  Chapter 32

  Her Wound

  Taking Lord Rem’s advice, Kalea, Bowaen, and Del entered the Norrian forest border. It lay a day’s walk from Carridax; the only town closer to the elves’ sovereign state was Theddir. She’d been unable to think about anything besides Lord Remenaxice since they left the estate.

  “So,” Bowaen began awkwardly as they followed the grassy trail through the elven forest. “We’re still walkin’ together, aren’t we?”

  “I guess so,” she said. “Thank you for letting me follow you. Again.”

  “Bah, I’m used to it by now.” He waved a hand as he walked in front of her, not bothering to turn.”

  Del sniffed as he walked beside Bowaen. She hadn’t managed to have a decent conversation with that one yet.

  “I’m following you because I believe the sword will lead me to Dorhen,” she blurted out.

  Bowaen turned to glance at her this time. “Oh, I know. I wouldn’t have questioned it.”

  She wrung her hands as she walked behind them, unable to get Rem’s foreboding words about emptiness and dead ends out of her head. Don’t go looking for any saehgahn. They’re nothing but trouble, he’d said. How could words like those not bother her?

  “Rem is sending me to meet someone he knows, not to find Dorhen.”

  “Yeah, we were there,” Del snapped, turning around.

  Pouting, Kalea watched the patchy trail pass under her moving feet. “I don’t care what he said. I’m going to find Dorhen.”

  “Well, you’re a free woman, Kalea,” Bowaen said. “You’re following me because the Creator sent you to find Dorhen. If you don’t want to go to the Darklands to meet Rem’s brother, who cares? Don’t do it. I’m not going to the Darklands anyway. I’m gonna find that brat and drag him to Carridax by his ear. He’ll never get that far.”

  She blew a breath out through puffed cheeks.

  “Hey,” Bowaen said. “I see what you’re doin’, and it’s not good for your mood. Stop watchin’ your feet. Lift that chin and take in some of this forest scenery. You might like it.”

  She took his advice and looked around. Butterflies flitted around over the flowery thorn bushes cluttering the land on either side of the path. Huge, twisted white trees with deep green leaves danced toward the sky in the welcome sunlight. Bowaen had offered good advice, for her heart lightened. In the distance, a flock of black deer bounded away as they were alerted to the travelers rustling along the grassy path. She’d never seen such animals before. A different breed of bird she’d never seen lived here too, singing a melodic hah-woo hah-woo into the air.

  “Bowaen,” she said after a long time of walking. “Rem said you have a daughter by the Lady of Logardvy…”

  Bowaen interrupted her half-formed question with a sharp grunt. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

  “Crazy elves,” Del mumbled to echo Bowaen’s attitude.

  Kalea stopped talking about Rem and decided to enjoy Norr while she could. An essence of peace permeated the atmosphere, its presence hanging all around, like the air of a sanctuary—before the sorcerers had arrived.

  Bowaen took Lord Dax’s words to heart, resisting his interest in catching a rabbit to cook, even though they had already seen three along the common trail. Wandering into the deeper wood could attract unwanted attention from the saehgahn rangers Dax had warned them about.

  “Rabbit’s my favorite,” Bowaen mumbled as the third one bounded away. Weeds and grass threatened to overgrow the trail, but it remained discernible by the old stone borders and occasional pillars lining the path.

  By nightfall, they found the path lit by magnificent glowing orbs hovering above the strange stone pillars along the road, and they argued whether it was a spell cast by the elves to light the way each night and why they would still cast the spell. The colors shifted to romantic new tones as they passed through the territories, some warm, some cool, but always soft and comfortable.

  They ate their dried rations, courtesy of the Dax Manor, in a little clearing a few steps off the trail, and built a fire to combat the sharp wind whistling through the trees. Putting aside their wariness, they managed to relax and laugh and tell stories around their little fire.

  All the while, Kalea’s eyes kept wandering into the dark shadows beyond the fire’s glow. After enough sad thoughts had drifted through her head, she switched her stare to Bowaen for a moment, regardless of Del’s chatter about his favorite kinds of jerky.

  “What’cha lookin’ at?” Bowaen finally asked her.

  She caught herself, unsure how many minutes had passed by, her cheek resting on her hand. “Oh, sorry.” She straightened up. “I was thinking about how nice you are…to me. And I got to thinking again about your daughter.”

  Bowaen grunted and threw his hands in the air. “Oh, for cryin’ out loud. Look, the Lady of Logardvy was kind to me. And it was her fault. Men have a way about them—they don’t wanna pass up certain…opportunities.”

  “It’s all right, you don’t have to explain. I was thinking about the spiritual side of the situation.”

  Bowaen frowned and reared his head back. “Spiritual side?”

  “Yes. I know you don’t believe you have a daughter, and I don’t doubt your belief. But isn’t it interesting how patient you’ve been with me? I know you didn’t want to hear me out at first, but you gave in pretty quick.”

  “I gave in because you paid me in rare seashells.”

  Del’s musings trailed off, and he listened to Bowaen and Kalea’s exchange.

  “But ever since, you’ve been soft and kind toward me. You’ve been more than a flat-fact escort.”

  Staring at the fire, Bowaen shrugged. “What do you want from me?”

  “Nothing. I just… I like you.”

  Keeping his eyes averted, Bowaen said, “Okay, look. I wa
s never lucky enough to get married. But I always imagined… Well, I always imagined if I had a child, I’d like it to be a girl… But then Del showed up.” Chuckling, he leaned over and punched the younger man’s arm.

  “Ow!”

  Kalea smiled. “So if she’s your daughter for real, how old would she be?”

  He scratched his rugged jaw and gazed into the fire again. “Almost your age, if my counting is anywhere near right.”

  Planting her chin atop her hands, elbows braced on her knees, Kalea smiled again. “It makes sense now. I think she is your daughter. I believe it.”

  “If that’s your choice.” He bit into a slab of jerky Del had handed him earlier.

  Kalea stretched out on her unrolled bedding. “Thanks again, Bowaen. For your patience and your escort. I’ll pray for your well-being. Yours too, Del.”

  Del didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. Kalea threw the quilt from the convent over her bedroll blanket to supplement the warmth, and said her silent prayers.

  By morning, the magic lights had dissipated. Kalea, Bowaen, and Del walked the trail in peaceful silence for a whole day and repeated the camping routine. The lights appeared again, but none could tell how they were lit. Did they light themselves or did the elves do it? For the whole two days, they didn’t see anyone, to Kalea’s disappointment.

  She laid out the quilt she had taken from the convent over her bedroll as before, and snuggled into the arrangement. It was a hand-me-down quilt, gently used by the time she’d received it. Like previous nights during her travels, she debated with herself whether it made her uncomfortable in its reminder of the horridly unsafe convent or if it soothed her by being a relic of home. Joy might’ve made it. When that realization hit, she decided to let the blanket be a comfort.

  From their campsite, one of the lavender trail lights could be seen. Tree trunk silhouettes stood in front of the glow, creating a lovely pattern like panels of stained glass. She wouldn’t be in a hurry to leave Norr behind. She loved everything about this forest. The fantasy of living here with Dorhen touched her mind like sugar on the tongue.

  Soft footsteps upon the leaves approached. Her eyelids cracked open as pale bare feet stopped inches before her face. A gentle hand landed on her shoulder. “Wake up, little lily.”

  Her eyes shot open, and a loud snarl greeted her renewed consciousness. The pale-footed stranger disappeared, only a dream.

  Kalea screamed as she was ripped from her quilt by her foot. Bowaen and Del’s voices shouted behind her. Dead leaves rustled against her bare body as her chemise dragged up to her armpits. Twigs and roots snagged her hair and scratched during the rough journey. Against the ambient trail lights, the shape of a tall, hunched creature solidified. Without those lights, she’d have seen nothing at all.

  Bowaen and Del’s running feet trod the leaves in pursuit. Suddenly, the creature’s long, clawed fingers let go and she was left in the churned leaves. It fell to the side, growling. An arrow had burrowed into its thick neck.

  As it paused to bother with the arrow, Kalea collected herself and tried to run. The creature lunged and tripped her with a swipe of its huge paw. A moment later, she noticed its claws had raked through the flesh on her thigh.

  Bowaen burst onto the scene with the sword, Hathrohjilh, swinging. The blade’s tip swiped across the creature’s back, and it roared.

  Kalea scrambled to her feet and ran, paying no mind to the direction, so long as she could gain some distance and find a hiding place. She’d have to check her wound later. It didn’t hurt, but adrenaline rushed all through her.

  Bowaen and Del worked together to distract the monster. Another arrow twanged from beside Kalea’s hiding spot and embedded into the beast’s thick skin. The shadowy shrubs hid the archer’s identity. One of Norr’s ranger saehgahn?

  The beast sniffed the air, angling its face toward the moon. The face was an awful combination of human and dog. Not a tuft of fur grew on its face, and the surface looked more like bone than skin. Its eyeballs couldn’t be seen, and the sockets which supposedly housed them were wide, almost circular. Long teeth lined the jaw, without any lips to hide them.

  The creature dodged Bowaen’s strike before galloping on all fours toward Kalea.

  “Run!” a voice from the shadow warned her. The archer emerged from behind a dark group of trees and shoved her.

  She obeyed, disregarding direction.

  She ran until someone else’s campfire glow appeared behind rows of black tree silhouettes.

  She stopped and collapsed before getting too close. She’d have to try and guess whether these men—or elves—were friendly. If so, they might help Bowaen kill the monster. She crept closer, hugging herself and shivering, donned in her thin chemise—another reason to hesitate before approaching.

  They weren’t elves. A bunch of laughing, talking men were drinking and roasting a horse’s leg over the fire. Live horses, tied together in a large group, danced in place nervously. Wagons full of goods stood around their circle, acting like a wall to close them in. Within the enclosure, they kept a collection of baskets bound shut with rope. Two men sat at each end of the basket cluster and one sat behind it.

  She listened carefully.

  “Speak up, you bloody freak!” one of the men grunted. A slap to flesh sounded.

  “What does he want?”

  “He said he has to take a piss.”

  The group laughed.

  “Don’t know if we should let him. Might be a trick.”

  The men were referring to a hooded figure with his hands tied. Kalea was tiptoeing around to the left to see more when a woman stood up from stooping over a stump used as a table. She held a pitcher. Kalea squinted.

  I’m dreaming, she thought as she watched the young woman stumble through the camp, enduring slaps and gropes to her rear. The woman’s face stayed solemn, as if she no longer noticed that sort of treatment upon her. She was a bit chubby, with stern eyes and dark hair. Kalea covered her mouth to stop the noise she wished she could make.

  Vivene. She mouthed the name, resisting shouting it. A frantic quaking overtook her. She’d found Vivene! One of her sisters! Her breaths came deep and noisy. Her eyes darted all over for more sisters. Or Dorhen.

  A hand clapped over Kalea’s mouth from behind. She screamed, but the hand held firm. Any noise she made was drowned under a swell of laughter from the camp.

  “Shh.”

  “Bowaen?” Kalea said. Her eyes fixed on the sight of Vivene, of all people, pouring wine into the laughing men’s cups.

  “No,” the person whispered, too clear and youthful to be Bowaen. “But stay calm. And get away from this place.”

  Kalea turned around to find an elf with red hair shining in the firelight. “Were you the one shooting the arrows when we were—?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened back there?”

  “The beast is dead. You’re safe now, and your friends are alive. They’re looking for you. Go.”

  Kalea pointed at the camp. How could she explain to the elf about her situation?

  He grabbed her hand and turned her away from the camp. He hissed, “They’re bad people. Go now!”

  The moment Kalea took a step, a sharp ache shot through her leg. Blood had soaked into the side of her chemise. That beast had scratched her badly, and she hadn’t noticed due to shock. After her short rest, the pain set in. She moaned, and the elf shushed her.

  “Be silent. Tread as lightly as you can.” He turned his attention back to the camp and crept closer, traversing around the perimeter.

  She’d be sure to tell Bowaen what she saw when she found him. Clamping her hands over her mouth, she picked her way through the leaves and stepped over fallen branches, praying to the One Creator to not let them see her white gown glowing in the moonlight.

  She traced her steps back as best as she could. She had no recollection of the exact route she had taken along her wild sprint, but Bowaen and Del would be looking for her after k
illing the monster. She added a few prayers to her thoughts for Vivene.

  Bowaen and Del worked together to distract the beast, using the faint moonlight to see. One of them could easily trip in the shadows and fall, rendering them vulnerable to being mauled. The beast tended to chase Del more often because he smelled strongly of tobacco. As it chased him, Bowaen followed behind, eager to stab it in the ribs if he could ever find the chance. Either its fur or its skin was too thick, or possibly both, because he couldn’t find the best angle to drive the blade in. Those dense, silky hairs made the blade slide off.

  After Bowaen’s first attempt to stab between the ribs, the creature roared in annoyance and veered around to swipe at him. He leaped and rolled, dropping the sword. The beast charged at him, and he scrambled away.

  “Hey!” Del yelled at the beast, waving his arms. “Come here! Hey!”

  The creature ignored him, opening its humanoid jaw farther than any real human could. A thin membrane stretched between the bones. Strings of slobber dripped off the sharp teeth. Bowaen scrambled on hands and knees toward the shiny surface of the sword reflecting the moon.

  “Hey!” Del yelled again.

  Bowaen grabbed the sword by its hilt and raised it. The creature leaped and came down, crushing him under its hot, furry body. It roared and snapped its steaming fangs at his head.

  He ducked and wiggled to sink down under it as far as he could, getting a mouthful of fur. He heard a few more arrows hit the creature’s thick hide.

  The roaring stopped and the snapping slowed. The beast sighed and went limp as a warm wetness spread over his hands and into his clothing. Heart pounding, Bowaen struggled under its weight.

  “Oh, God,” Del’s voice moaned.

  “Del!”

  “Bow!” The creature half-lifted up as Del struggled in trying to get a grip and remove it. Bowaen pushed as he pulled until they turned it over. Bowaen rolled over on his hands and knees and panted.