Temporal Locum

by Wendie Nordgren

  Bym nodded and wiped at her eyes.

  He stood at her right and studied Donkey. Red and green blood mixed together with sweat and dirt which left streaks on Lyle’s skin and clothing. The blacksmith would never admit it, but Bym could see her fear and desperation mirrored in his eyes. It wasn’t all she saw in them. His eyes contained something far more powerful, duty and determination.

  “I’m scared.” Her voice shook with her admission.

  He lifted his hand from Donkey’s neck and pointed along a trail to the right. “Ride fast. Follow that road as far as it will go. Beg the Umbra for help. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He slapped Donkey hard on the rump, and she shot off along the wagon trail. Bym didn’t turn her head to look, but she heard the gates close behind her, like the lids of coffins banging shut. She lowered her body close to Donkey’s neck. Her friend didn’t need to be urged to run as fast as she possibly could. The cries from the forest around them were all of the incentive she needed. All around the settlement, the goblins, having nowhere to hide from the sun, had piled into mounds. The ones on top cried pitifully. Their skins sizzled as they burned, blistered, and popped.

  Bym swallowed against her rising nausea and willed the sun to stay bright. Desperately, she asked, “How far away is it? How far? He didn’t say.” The road was a steadily curving climb. After what felt like an hour, Donkey began to tire. She moved at a jog, but Bym was simply grateful that she was still moving. “Good girl. Keep going.” Bym patted her neck.

  Later, when she slowed to a walk, Bym dismounted, took the reins, and walked at her side. Donkey seemed to appreciate the rest. The sun remained bright, and Bym kept praying for it to continue to do so. The mountain had become large and intimidating the closer they had gotten to it. Bym’s legs burned from the steep incline, and her breathing was strained.

  “We can’t stop. We have to hurry.” Feeling like an abusive bitch, she silently cursed her own stupidity and did stop. She struggled with the straps but managed to remove Donkey’s saddle and blanket. The saddle was heavy. She tossed it into the high grass to the side of the path. “I’m sorry. That was so stupid of me. I should have taken it off of you hours ago.” She hugged the sweet creature’s neck. “Come on, girl.”

  They trudged along. Eventually, she lost count of her steps as the exhaustion, pain, and monotony of it wore on into perpetuity. There was a stillness in the air and surrounding forest this close to the mountain. Not even the birds stirred in the trees or dared to fly across the sky. As she thought of birds, she heard a faint whistle of sound and then froze as a black-fletched arrow imbedded in the path inches from her toes. Donkey was too tired to do more than to take a step back.

  “Who goes there?” a harsh voice demanded.

  “My name is Bym.”

  Before she could say more, he ordered, “State your purpose!”

  “We’re under attack! Please! We need help!” She lifted her left hand in surrender but kept hold of the reins with her right.

  Four black-cloaked Umbra melted out of the trees and surrounded them.

  Bym shivered as they boxed her in. The sharp silver teeth of their masks brought forth the trauma of goblin fangs as they had torn into her flesh. “They attacked during the night. Lyle has taken the women and children to the inn. He sent me for help. Please!”

  “Come,” one of the Umbra ordered.

  Two of them led the way while two walked behind them. They left the path and walked straight toward the mountain and solid rock.

  “Where are we going?” She feared they meant to murder her out of sight of the path.

  “Silence.” The speaker and the man beside him walked through the stone and vanished.

  Donkey whinnied and reared. An Umbra covered her eyes with his cloak and took her bridle. The other seized Bym’s arm and dragged her forward. She didn’t see any hidden cave entrance, only solid rock. Feeling like she was hyperventilating, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to get away, but the man holding her arm was too strong. She expected to feel herself being crushed against hard rock, but she felt only cold air. Opening her eyes, she turned her head this way and that. They were in a wide tunnel which opened up into a cavern. Donkey was being led over to a paddock where half a dozen black horses munched on hay. Uncaring of Bym’s fate, she went straight to a water trough and started slurping. Bym stumbled along at her escort’s side. His firm grip kept her from falling.

  The Umbra had lived in the mountain for centuries, and the outside was a deception. Within was a fortress, and not simply of roughly-hewn cave rooms or passageways. The floors were fashioned of smooth, square, grey paving stones. Where each of their corners met, gemstones glittered. The walls were shiny and black. She didn’t know if they were made of glass or something else. This was nothing like the farmhouses or town she had seen. It was an underground palace.

  The Umbra they passed wore black, but not all of them wore the masks, robes, and cloaks of the guards. Some of them wore pants and shirts similar to what she wore. All of them had shaved heads and heavy black liner around their eyes. Then, Bym did trip. She held her hand out to catch herself, but the guard held her up by her arm and her belt until she got her feet back under herself. “There are women here?” She gawked at them. “Young women and not caged?”

  In a large open room, lit by candled chandeliers, a group of women wearing bright dresses and adorned with expensive jewelry laughed and amused themselves. They played board games and instruments, sewed, knitted, and appeared to be happy, unlike the females who she’d observed under Solis rule. She was shoved along before she could see much more.

  “We aren’t barbarians like the Solis.”

  “Don’t you test them with a gate?”

  “And risk their lives? Sickening,” a guard ahead answered disdainfully.

  Before she could ask any further questions, they veered down a passageway to the right. A tall male in black robes stood bent over a table that would have been a role player’s wet dream. Mountains, trees, rivers, lakes, farms, towns, and cities were artistically rendered miniatures upon it. Without turning, he said, “I smell goblin stench. Report.”

  “We found this waif upon the road. He said Lyle sent him to ask for assistance. Goblins overrun the settlement.”

  Turning from the table, the man spoke to an intimidating soldier who looked as though his muscles had scared away his neck. “Take your squadron and secure the village.”

  The soldier, who she thought would move like a bull, left the room with a fluid, deadly grace. She tried to pull her arm free from the Umbra who still firmly held it. “Let me go. I have to help.”

  The man didn’t release her. Involuntarily shivering, she noticed guards, the lower halves of their faces hidden by the black masks of sharp metal teeth, standing as still as statues at intervals around the large room.

  “You said your name is Bym.”

  “It is.”

  The man in charge turned all of his attention to her and focused on the knife sheathed at her hip. “How did a simple peasant boy come by that blade?”

  One of the men behind her reached around and unfastened it.

  “Hey! That’s mine, and I earned the coins in the pouch!” She tried to grab it back and got a strong shaking for her efforts.

  Holding out the sheathed blade and belt horizontally on his palms, the man kneeled at his leader’s feet.

  The Umbra leader unsheathed the dagger and examined the goblin blood on its blade. “How is it yours?”

  Scared and furious, Bym said, “A man named Hopcyn gave it to me. I told him it was too much, but he insisted.”

  The man stared through her as if he might use the blade to remove her head. “Hopcyn gave you this?” He put too much emphasis on “you” for Bym’s liking.

  “Yes, he did. What the hell? Do you think I could have taken it from him?” She put her emphasis on “him” to make her own point. Someone cuffed her right ear. Flinching, she covered it with
her freed hand and fought the tears the blow had brought to her eyes.

  “Where did you meet Hopcyn?” the man asked as if she hadn’t just been abused right in front of everyone.

  “Somewhere in the forest.” From the corner of her eye, she saw a hand coming toward her head and ducked. “We had spent the night at a ridge to hide from the goblins. A bunch of Umbra surrounded us. They had big black horses and some hunting dogs.”

  “Continue.”

  “One of them made a black sparkly mist come out of his hand. He asked me questions.”

  “What questions?”

  Bym hesitated, thinking as hard as she could. “I don’t remember.” She saw the hand coming toward her head and shielded herself with her arms. “Don’t fucking hit me again! I’m telling the truth! Damn it! One man threw our goblin heads in the air, and the other one burned them with his hand somehow. He told Hopcyn to pay us two gold coins for each of our heads. He did. Then, he gave me the blade.” Thinking, she added, “He said something about it being better than my whittling knife. Then, they disappeared. I don’t know which way they went.”

  “You weren’t alone. Who were you with?”

  Sadly, she said, “Eurig.”

  “Where is this Eurig now?”

  Bym shrugged. “I don’t know. He left me in town and went with the soldiers.”

  “This saddens you. Why?”

  Her thoughts were confusion. Trying to put it all into words, she said, “He left me. I knew he wanted to be a soldier, but the way they treat women…. A few days ago, the Solis brought the town’s women back, but two of them were dead. How could he be excited to leave with them after something like that? It’s evil.”

  “Which women died?”

  “I didn’t know their names, but one of them was Abner’s sister. He’s the blacksmith’s son. Lyle is the blacksmith. He told me to come here for help.”

  The room had become even quieter if it was possible. “Show me where you saw Hopcyn.” He placed her blade and belt on a table and gestured at the map table.

  “Where is the town?” she asked.

  A guard pointed it out.

  “Um… I think there, but it seems so much bigger in real life. There was room for Eurig’s horse, Donkey, and us under it.” She pointed out what she thought was the ridge near the river. “May I go now? Can I have my knife back?”

  Coldly, he said, “You aren’t going anywhere until your story has been confirmed. Hopcyn and his party have been missing for days.”

  “Oh, no, the goblins.”

  His stare said something else.

  “Wait! I didn’t hurt him!”

  “Then, you won’t mind cooperating while my men investigate.”

  “Actually, I do mind. I was planning to leave the village before the attack.”

  “To join Eurig?”

  Bym stared at him.

  “The Solis army won’t take you, child. You’d be lucky to get a job digging latrines. Take him. Clean him up and secure him.”

  Bym was hauled by her arm from the room. “Wait! No! You don’t understand!”

  “Insubordinate,” a man said in a dismissive tone. His hand started to descend upon her once again, and she lost it.

  Wrenching free of the guard who held her arm, she dick-punched the black-robed man who’d been about to cuff her ear.

  “Oof!”

  When he doubled over, she brought her knee up into his face. She was grabbed from behind, her arms pinned to her sides, and lifted from her feet. Guards laughed from behind their mask-covered faces.

  “New acolyte?” one of them asked. “He stinks.”

  “Give him to me. I know how to get him clean.” Wet, pain-filled eyes stared directly into hers. The moisture quickly evaporated from his anger.

  The guard handed her over to the one she’d dick-punched. Kicking, biting, and scratching had no effect. He tossed Bym over his shoulder as he might have done a sack of feed. His black robes billowed around his legs as he walked along a confusing passage of twists, turns, and stairs. Then, the passage widened, and a balustrade came into view. Lifting her above his head, he threw her over the edge.

  She screamed as she fell, twisting and turning. Thankfully, it was water she was rushing toward and not rocks as she had feared. Holding her breath, she made herself into a tight ball and closed her eyes without a second to spare. The deep water into which she plummeted was warm. When she stopped dropping, she opened her eyes. Far below were stalagmites rising up, but they had to be at least thirty feet below her. Surfacing, she gulped at the air. The water burned her thigh from some new unrealized injury.

  High above from behind the balustrade, the guard flipped her off.

  She returned the gesture. “You hit people who are smaller than you to compensate for your fucking micropenis, asshole!” she yelled.

  “Watch out for the flesh-eating eels,” he yelled down. He leaned over the black stone railing and waggled his fingers.

  Bym treaded the water and scanned its depths. She didn’t see the eels but never doubted their presence. They could be down there hiding anywhere. She looked up and couldn’t see any means of climbing all of the way back up. The platform had to be at least thirty or forty feet above. She turned herself in a circle. Opposite the wide oval balcony from which she’d been hurled was her way out. It was the only flat, level surface in sight. Otherwise, it appeared she was in an enclosed mountain lake surrounded by stone. Not being a strong swimmer, she struggled to get across. She was already tired from a sleepless night, fighting goblins, and racing to these sadistic bastards for help.

  Breathing hard with the effort it took for her to swim, she got water in her mouth and started choking. Her head dipped under the water, and she fought her way back to the surface. A ripple of water hit her in the face just as she’d been about to take a breath. Bym panicked. Then, an arm wrapped around her chest, and she was on her back, racing over the water’s surface. Someone was dragging her up stone steps. Her heels hit each one. Placed onto her side, she coughed water out of her lungs and dragged in painful gasps of air.

  “You need to be sure they can swim first, Guto,” a man said.

  “The little fucker hit me in the dick.”

  Bym pushed herself up to a sitting position. Water dripped from her clothing and formed a pool around her on the stone patio, but she didn’t care. She’d died, and this was heaven. She gazed around in wonder.

  “One of you could have dragged him out,” Guto, the micropenis, complained.

  “We didn’t throw him in.”

  Bym was surrounded by nude male perfection. They reclined on chairs with closed eyes, soaked in a large natural spring of hot bubbling water, or stood in front of mirrored basins where they shaved their heads and faces. None of the lovely nude men had micro penises either. She smiled. This afterlife was satisfactory.

  “He’s your responsibility, Guto. Clean him up.”

  The abusive guard stood. Water dripped from his robes all about the paving stones. “Get up.”

  Bym glared at him but stood. Everything she owned was soaked because of him. Well, his leader had her knife and belt, and her other things were at the inn where the goblins might very well be killing everyone she knew. Her fury kept her from screaming in frustration.

  He led the way to a stone bench. “Take them off and sit.” He was stripping out of his own clothes and made a pile of them. His body was gorgeous. It was the body of a lethal assassin, strong and muscular. Then, he turned. He did not have a tiny tinkle. Nope. He could have used it to lay siege to a town as a battering ram. Even though he was a dick, she really wanted to play with it. He misinterpreted her attention. “Shit. We’ve got a self-conscious little baby,” he called out.

  All of the nude males had a good laugh at her expense.

  Bym glared at him.

  Guto pointed. “Go in there. Strip. Wrap up in a towel. Sit here.”

  Bym walked in her squishy boots to the room he’d pointed out. There were a f
ew stalls with doors and benches on which there were stacks of undyed towel-like blankets. Taking one, she entered a stall. It was a shower. She feared her new boots were ruined. Her heavy wet clothes slapped down to the stone floor as she removed them. Cold and wet, bruises stood out on her pale skin. Across her left thigh were fresh rips in her skin from where a goblin had almost gotten her. Now, she knew the reason why the water had stung. Adrenaline must have prevented her from noticing it. Well, it was either that or it was because the claw marks had blended in with all of her other aches and pains. The absorbent blanket was large enough for her to wind around her body a few times. Guto, the bully, would assume she was cold.

  Returning to the bench, she looked up at him. “What do I do with my clothes?”

  “Leave them. Someone will take them and wash them. Now, your hair looks like a cat threw up a hairball, and mice made a home of it.”

  “That’s great. Thank you so much.” A small oval mirror was affixed to the stone in front of her. She cringed at her reflection. Helga’s cream had helped, but her eyes were far from healed. Guto had a blade in his hand. “Wait a minute. What….”

  “Bend your head down and be still.”

  She felt a tugging at her scalp and too late she realized what he was doing. The sexy bastard was shaving her bald! It was over so fast. It all seemed so surreal. Her head felt so cold. Lifting shaking hands, she ran them over her sad bald head.

  “There you go. You look much better. Cleaner. Go shower. Clothes will be on a bench for you when you’re done. Use soap.”

  In shock, she returned to the shower. If she turned herself over to the Solis in order to save innocent women, would they even listen to her? She’d have to strip naked and jiggle her boobs at them for them to have any clue she was female. She lifted a lever and felt the water that spilled from the metal tube. Standing under it, she couldn’t seem to stop touching her scalp. It felt so weird. “All of my pretty hair, all gone.”

  Outside of the stall, she found black underwear, shirt, pants, and vest. She wasn’t given any shoes. Standing on the towel, she dressed in the stall. Then, she found Guto waiting for her in fresh black robes. He motioned for her to follow him from the bathing chamber and down a few sets of stairs. “In you go.”