Temporal Locum

by Wendie Nordgren

  She entered the stone room, and the door locked shut behind her. A straw mattress, topped with a folded blanket rested atop a stone shelf which jutted from the wall. From above, water flowed from a metal pipe into a washbasin beneath which another pipe angled away to flow down a stone seat which she recognized as a toilet.

  “Great. This is just great,” she said deadpan. “Drink, wash, pee, and repeat.” Striding barefoot across the cold stone floor, she called through the door, “Let me out!” She gave the door a shake. No one acknowledged her. Eventually, she gave in to her exhaustion, crawled onto the bed, and fell into a nightmarish sleep.

  The sound of the door opening woke her. “Time to eat,” Guto announced. He was already walking away before she’d managed to extricate herself from the bed. She started to run in the opposite direction. “You’ll get lost and miss the meal. It’s your choice,” he said without turning around.

  “Fucking shit.” Knowing he was right, she turned to follow him.

  “You have odd fantasies,” Guto said.

  “What?” she asked while trying to catch up to him. “No! Fucking shit isn’t literal. Don’t act like you don’t ever cuss.”

  “I don’t think the word means what you think it means. You’ll understand how to use it and do it effectively when you’re older.”

  She rolled her eyes at his back, as if she didn’t know how to fuck. “I’m grown.”

  Guto laughed and entered a wide stone room filled with wooden tables and benches. The rustic seating looked out of place against the paved flooring, glittering as it did with lavish jewels even so deeply within the fortress. Burning torches in sconces along the walls lit the large room. “Sit.” Guto used his middle finger to indicate the space on the bench beside him.

  They weren’t alone. Sitting beside him, she looked around and saw a few other warriors, most of whom looked to be verging on elderly, who had boys sitting with them. “What is this about?”

  Guto paid more attention to the plates of food a server placed before them than to her question. “This is the time reserved for teachers and their acolytes to eat dinner. I have been assigned you as a punishment.”

  Bym glared at him. “That’s what you get for abusing me? You get more unsupervised chances to do the same?” She was outraged.

  “No, you need a great deal of correction. I am punished for giving you an opening to attack.”

  Furious, she turned her attention to her food. “I didn’t get a fork.”

  “I don’t trust you with one.”

  “How am I supposed to eat?”

  He tried to act like a stoic warrior who was forced to endure the trials of a young student.

  Not buying it, she said, “Look. You don’t want to deal with me, and that’s fine. Give me Donkey, and let me go.”

  “No, our Captain ordered for you to remain. Only Hopcyn’s words will set you free.”

  “You don’t understand. Innocent lives depend on me.”

  Guto rolled his eyes. “You accomplished your mission. Warriors have gone to fight the goblins if what you said was true and there are any to be fought.”

  “If you don’t believe me, why not get one of your sorcerers to ask me questions with the black sparkly mist?”

  Reaching over, he took a potato from her plate. He popped the entire thing into his mouth and chewed.

  “Hey!” Realizing he’d steal it all if she didn’t eat it, she tore open her loaf of bread, put her stew inside of it, and ate it like a sandwich. Her head was starting to hurt and thrummed in time with the pain in her thigh. After she’d finished and drank all of her milk, she asked, “Is there anyone like Helga here?”

  “Why?” Guto asked with the first hint of concern she’d ever heard from him.

  Under the table, Bym eased the material of her black pants from her leg. It would probably look like she’d spilled dinner on her lap and not like what it was, blood from the fighting. She was about to explain when two masked Umbra warriors walked into the room.

  Guto stood.

  One of the warriors said, “Drem and his hunters have returned. Captain Arwel orders your acolyte’s attendance.” Turning as one, the warriors glided toward the exit.

  “That means Hopcyn is here and can clear you of wrongdoing.”

  “It’s about time.” Bym felt dizzy and sick as she stood, but Guto was already walking away.

  He said, “You will not speak unless you are asked a question. Insubordination on your part will result in me sharing in your punishment, and I don’t care to spend nights in the cave of solitude.”

  “Fine. I just need my things, to be shown the way out with Donkey, and I’ll go. Then, you won’t have to deal with me ever again.” She wiped at her clammy forehead and kept his back in sight.

  He led her to a grand room with a vaulted ceiling. In its center was a large black oval table around which a dozen Umbra sat. She could tell they were important and tried to hide her leg with her shirt. It was bleeding through her pants, and she didn’t want anyone to notice. If she could get back to Helga, everything would be okay. The scratches hurt worse than the other times she’d been clawed. At least, the pants were black so the bloodstains wouldn’t show.

  The Sorcerer, Hopcyn, and the others were there. The man from earlier who had confiscated her blade, Captain Arwel, said, “Drem, tell us what you have learned.”

  The Sorcerer stood. Although she found him frighteningly fascinating, she couldn’t force her attention from returning to her own head. It felt like an expanding balloon and made his voice sound odd. “We rode to each of the portals within our territory. It was only at the ancient portal of Noctus Luna that we found evidence of a temporal singularity. It was there that the hounds picked up a scent obscured by goblin tracks.”

  Captain Arwel stood and paced. “She came through. Where is she now?”

  Drem said, “We tracked through the tunnels to a well, through the woods to a razed farm, and found these items in its barn.”

  One of his men spread her ruined dress, cape, and shoes on the table.

  Drem pointed out the rips in her dress and cloak. “The goblins attacked her.”

  “Your hounds have her scent?”

  Drem nodded at the Captain’s question.

  Arwel seemed to brace himself before quietly asking, “Do they have her?”

  “I do not know. The hounds picked up her scent again at a farm a few miles north. The people there hadn’t seen any females other than the ones the Solis had taken. However, their youngest son ran away, and we found this within sight of their property.” He pulled a long, severed ponytail from within his cloak.

  Bym stared at her hair and expected him to turn his eyes toward her at any second. What would they do to her? She started shaking as visions of girls burning on funeral pyres and laughing jeweled women circled through her mind like a merry-go-round. Covering her face with her hands, she tried to hold back her tears. She didn’t know what to do or who to trust.

  Hearing her whimpering, Captain Arwel lost his temper. “Can’t you control him?” he snapped at Guto. “Hopcyn, did you give the boy your blade?”

  She didn’t hear the answer.

  Several men, spattered with goblin blood, stormed into the room. All attention turned to them. “There are more of them than we’ve ever seen. We evacuated the townsfolk and their livestock to Firmum Hold. Twenty warriors guard the entrance. Our guests will need food and healers. The goblins came again with the night but scented the air and lost interest in the town.”

  “Where has their interest turned? They’ll lead us to her.” Captain Arwel stared at the man from before, the one with the thick neck.

  “They’re on their way here.”

  Bym clutched at Guto’s arm and stared up at him with tears in her eyes. “It’s all my fault. I led them here. They’re after me.”

  He put his hand over her mouth to shut her up. He’d meant to keep them both out of trouble for speaking out of turn. With his touch, he discovered th
at his acolyte had a raging fever.

  “To your posts,” Captain Arwel ordered the gathered men.

  Bym fainted.

  Chapter Nine

  She came to in Guto’s arms. She tried to focus, but the shiny black ceiling above kept moving while he walked. She closed her eyes against the spinning.

  “What do we have here?” The voice was unfamiliar.

  “New recruit. I’m in charge of him. Not one day, and he’s sick. He doesn’t mind either, but it could be because of the fever.”

  “Well, let’s get him better so you don’t lose rank.”

  “That’s all I need, killing my first one.”

  The man said, “I don’t want to kill my first patient either, old friend.”

  “If Healer Drystan didn’t think you were ready, you wouldn’t have gotten your own treatment room.”

  “I guess we both have something to prove. What’s his name?”

  “Bym,” Guto answered.

  “Bym, can you hear me? Can you tell me what hurts?”

  “Goblins… all my fault,” she said. Her head pounded. Had Helga, Seren, Abner, and Lyle survived? She was the one for whom the Solis had been searching. How many lives had been lost because of her? All of it could have been avoided if she’d simply turned herself over to them at Eurig’s farm, but she’d been a coward.

  “What’s that about?”

  Guto said, “Goblins attacked the town. They sent him for help. Now, the goblins are here, and the kid thinks it’s his fault.”

  “Bym, it isn’t your fault. They attack every few months.” He felt her forehead and probed her head and throat. Then, he had his hands at her waist where he began untying her pants even though she feebly fought him. “Bym, your leg is bleeding. Can you tell me what happened?”

  “He must have gotten goblin-scratched.”

  Her pants were tossed aside.

  “Can I help?” Guto asked.

  “Sure. Cold, damp cloth to the forehead.”

  Soon, she felt the coolness on her forehead, face, and neck. Guto wrung out the cloth and repeated the process. It was bliss, and she moaned when he took it away to refresh it. Then, someone held her up and placed a cup to her lips. The contents were bitter and made her sleepy, but her head stopped pounding and spinning. Someone had placed a pillow under her head.

  “Hold him still for the next part.”

  She felt her underwear being tugged down but couldn’t do anything about it.

  Guto said, “Uh… That doesn’t look right.”

  A blanket was quickly draped over her privates. Seconds later, a painfully stinging liquid was being poured over her leg. She tried to jerk away, but Guto held her leg.

  “I take it you didn’t know she was a female when you shaved her head?” Iago hissed.

  “No, I didn’t know!” His face burned with humiliation. “I threw her in the men’s pool.”

  “You did what?”

  “She punched me in the dick.”

  “You kept hitting me, asshole,” Bym weakly rasped.

  “You hit me in the dick.”

  “Hit me ever again, and you won’t have one.”

  Iago chuckled. “Spirited.”

  He doused her leg once more with the fluid, but it didn’t hurt as much.

  He asked, “Bym, have you been goblin-scratched before?”

  “Yes, my leg.”

  Iago said, “Yes, I see. Anywhere else?”

  She sighed tiredly. Were they stupid, or was she not communicating effectively? “My other leg. They chased me. I climbed the rocks and almost got away.”

  Guto said, “Look at her hand.”

  “Yes, I see. Help me turn her over.”

  Bym’s head started spinning again when they moved her.

  “Iago, Drem’s party tracked the Goddess from Noctus Luna to a farm where they found a dress and cape slashed on the back-right. I need to report this.”

  “Go.”

  Something soft was placed under her before he rolled her to her back and removed her shirt. Her feverish skin cared nothing for her sense of modesty.

  He covered her with blankets which were too hot, uncovered her bleeding leg, and applied a paste to draw out the poison. Being goblin-scratched three times had allowed the poisons to build up in her system. Had she been on the road alone, she would have died. He was furious by the time Guto had returned with Captain Arwel and Drem.

  Arwel asked, “Is this one of the boys you found near the ridge?”

  “Yes, and I questioned him,” Drem replied.

  Arwel folded down the blankets which covered a sleeping, feverish woman. “This is no boy.” His eyes left her breasts to stare at Drem.

  Iago covered her chest again. Angrily, he said, “She’s been scratched three times. She’s been unprotected in the wilderness, hunted by goblins. There isn’t much of her which isn’t scraped or bruised.”

  Captain Arwel said, “From now on, she is your only patient. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Drem, find out who she is. Don’t let her out of your sight. Guto, you are now her servant.”

  Guto stood straighter. Every Umbra female had a personal servant, and it was a high honor, one usually reserved for nobles.

  Seeing Guto’s expression, Arwel said, “You reported her to me.”

  “I will protect her with my life,” he vowed. Then, he cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose she should stay in the cells.”

  “Obviously not. Drem, where is your huntsman? Have him bring his hounds.”

  Drem left the treatment room calling out, “Gethim!” as he went.

  Bym woke to the sounds of dogs going crazy. She lifted her hands to her ears. The dogs were removed, claws clicking against stone.

  Drem asked, “Why didn’t they react at the ridge?”

  Another voice, a slow-sounding one, said, “Sausage did, but the ass tried to kick him.”

  Bym rasped, “She’s not an ass. She’s a good girl. Her name is Donkey.”

  “Donkey?” the slow voice asked incredulously.

  “Sausage?” Bym retorted. She forced her eyes open and pushed herself up on her elbows. Staring at Arwel, she asked, “Did Hopcyn tell you he gave me the blade, or do you still think I murdered him and stole it?”

  Captain Arwel gaped at her. “Forgive me, Lady. He did inform me that he gifted you with the dagger.”

  “Give it back to me. I want my clothes, too.” She clutched the blankets to her chest and sat up even though Iago tried to prevent it. She slapped his hands away. “Since I’ve been cleared of any wrongdoing, I really must be on my way.”

  Drem stepped closer. “Where is it you wish to go?”

  His voice drew her eyes to his. They pulled her into their depths with a heat which tried to ignite something within her. Hesitantly, she answered, “I have to make sure that Helga, Mistress Seren, and Abner are okay. They’ve been good to me.” She wiped at the beads of sweat above her lip. She wanted something to drink but didn’t think asking for it would go along with her feigned bravado.

  Captain Arwel said, “They are safe and have been relocated to one of our strongholds. You do not need to fear for your friends.”

  “They aren’t the only ones about whom I’m worried. Am I a prisoner?” She took the cool rag from Guto and held it to her forehead. “It’s too hot in here.” She moved the cloth to the back of her neck.

  Iago said, “You have an infection. If you leave, you might die.”

  “If I stay, innocent women might die. I’m not sure. Maybe, I’m crazy, but I think I might be the one the soldiers are looking for. If I am, it’s my fault they’re dead.”

  Drem stared at something in his hand.

  Bym recognized it at once. It was one of her hairpins. It had been in the feed bag she’d been using as a purse. “You went through my stuff?” she asked, outraged.

  Nonplussed, he said, “There is a way to know for certain if you are the Goddess of Time reincarnate.”


  “I’m not a reincarnation of anyone. If what I remember is true, it was a transfer of power moments before a car struck me on Earth in the United States when I was on my way to have coffee with….” She couldn’t remember who she had been going to see. “It’s all fading.”

  “She’s hallucinating,” Iago said.

  All of them were looking at her like she was crazy.

  Drem said, “Perhaps, when you are feeling better, we will discover the truth.”

  “No. I want to know now. It’s the only way I can put a stop to this.”

  “Very well,” Drem replied. “I will order preparations.”

  After the Sorcerer had left, Guto came to her side and bowed. “May I procure for you some suitable attire, Lady?”

  “Thanks. That would be great.”

  Once they were alone, Iago changed. He placed his hands to either side of her thighs. In a quiet but forceful tone, he said, “Listen carefully. I do not care who you might be. You could be the Goddess or an orphaned peasant boy. What matters to me is my patient which you most certainly are. Lie down.” His tone frightened Bym into compliance. He dipped the cloth in cold water, wrung it out, and put it over her eyes. “Stay still and take a nap. Don’t you dare open your eyes. I’m watching you.”

  Bym made a face.

  “I saw that.” Iago started grinding herbs in a mortar. Moving the blanket from her leg, he applied the new concoction. Then, he wrapped her leg with bandages. His gentle touch was at odds with his stern words.

  When Arwel, Drem, and Guto returned, she was asleep, and he refused to allow anyone to disturb her.

  “Has she said anything more?” Arwel asked.

  “She complained about being too hot,” Iago replied.

  Drem said, “I suppose it should come as no surprise that we are in the middle of a blizzard.”

  “Snow will send the goblins back underground,” Arwel said needlessly. “It will keep the Solis from advancing as well.”

  They didn’t stray far from the treatment room.