by Helen Gosney
“Even if it’s the Champion, Sir?”
“Especially if it’s the Champion, lad. Can you imagine how bloody unstoppable he’d be, until he woke up properly and realised we weren’t damned Plaitens trying to kill him?”
Ulrich thought about Rowan’s Weapons Master status and his casual expertise at unarmed combat. Then he thought about his sheer strength and devastating speed and shivered.
Rowan had walked in his sleep a few times during his recovery, as nearly every survivor of Messton had at one time or another, and he’d woken in the forest or in the barn, his barely-healed leg hurting, completely mystified as to how he’d got there. Normally he’d wake up alert, but after a nightmare it’d take a while to really be sure of where he was when he woke, even now. And, most confusingly, sometimes he’d dream very clearly that he was awake when he was in fact still asleep. But, while the nightmares hadn’t left him, he hadn’t walked in his sleep for a long time.
********
All was quiet as the Wardens went about their rounds, and at almost two in the morning, one would certainly hope so. Lenni and Ulrich came to the main barracks, headed up the central stairs to the top and worked their way down again. It’d be very unusual to find trouble in this particular block, particularly with the Champion living on the first floor, but of course it had to be checked as all of the garrison did. Apart from some truly horrendous snoring from the inhabitants of the top floor, there was nothing until they came to the first floor.
“That’s Red’s door…” Lenni frowned as they walked quietly along the corridor, “Why’s it open like that?”
“Maybe he can’t sleep and he’s just gone for a walk…?” Ulrich said doubtfully.
“Aye, maybe, but I don’t think he’d leave the door open…” Lenni looked carefully through the door and called quietly, “Excuse me, Sir. Sergeant Lenni, Duty Warden… Is everything all right? Sir?”
It was dark and silent inside, with a single bright beam of moonlight coming through an open window. The inner door to the bedroom was open too, but that wasn’t necessarily significant.
“Come on, Ulrich, we’ll just see that he’s all right. Oh, you probably know this, but I’ll tell you anyway… you must always let any of the men that were at Messton know you’re around, don’t ever think it’d be funny to startle them, especially Red,” Lenni looked very serious for a moment. All the recruits in every garrison were told this, but it wouldn’t hurt to remind Ulrich. “He could do you a hell of a bloody mischief before you knew it, certainly without meaning to, and there’d be nothing you or I could do about it. His reflexes are amazing, even more so now, they say, and he’s got bloody good hearing, but he says himself to just let him know you’re there… he’d rather we woke him up than he hurt somebody like that.” He could see Ulrich’s wide-eyed nod. Good, he thought. “Oh, and try not to fall over little Scrap,” he added, “He’ll be here somewhere. He’s hard to see at the best of times and he’s damned nearly as fast as Red is.”
“Aye, Sergeant,” Ulrich said as they cautiously went into Rowan’s rooms, lamps held high.
“Excuse me, Sir. Sergeant Lenni, Warden’s rounds, Sir. Is everything all right?” Lenni said again, a little more loudly.
The only reply was silence.
“He’s not here, Sir,” Ulrich said as they stood beside Rowan’s very rumpled bed. It certainly didn’t look like he’d been enjoying a peaceful night’s rest. “He must have gone up to the battlements and we must have missed him, Sir.”
“Aye, I suppose so,” Lenni said hesitantly. Rowan’s quarters were as neat and tidy as if he was still in the Guard, and nothing seemed out of place. But where were his boots? They should be just here somewhere… No, he’d put them on to go up to the battlements, wouldn’t he? It must be as Ulrich had said. He turned to leave. “Can you hear something, Ulrich? It sounds like… I don’t know…” he shrugged, uncertain. He thought it almost sounded like a baby crying, but there were certainly no babies in this building. There were a couple in the Married Quarters at the moment, but not here. No, he must be imagining things.
“No, Sir, I can’t hear anything,” Ulrich listened carefully as they came back into the corridor. There was something, he thought. “Wait… I can now. But I think it’s only a cat mewing. Maybe it’s little Scrap…”
“Aye, it probably is, up here…” Lenni suddenly stopped in his tracks. “But why isn’t he with Red?”
Ulrich shrugged.
“Perhaps he’s just, er… out visiting a lady cat, Sir.”
“Mmm, maybe. But… he sounds like he’s on the back stairs. Hurry up lad, let’s see what Scrap’s on about…” Lenni hoped fervently that Scrap was only entertaining a lady friend, but it really didn’t sound like that, and he surely wouldn’t be doing it on the barracks stairs.
The mewing was louder as they came to the back stairs, with an anxious note to it. The steps were steep and narrow, really only for emergencies, but often used by the men at this end of the building as they were closer to the Mess. Not closer from Rowan’s rooms though, Lenni thought. The steps spiralled off into darkness.
“Careful, Ulrich. They’re bloody dangerous, these stairs,” Lenni said, “The damned lamp there’s gone out too. Light it please, lad, so we can see what we’re…” his voice broke off suddenly, “Great bloody Beldar!”
He scuttled down the steps far more quickly than was wise, but managed to keep his feet - unlike Ulrich, who slipped and slid for several feet. When the lad got his balance again he hurried down to where he could see Lenni kneeling by a still, crumpled figure wearing, oddly for this time of the night, only trousers and boots. He knew who it was immediately by the long braid of silver hair.
“Gods! What’s happened? Is he all right?” he managed.
“Dunno,” Lenni said worriedly, “Move over, Scrap, let me see… hold that lamp a bit closer, Ulrich. Take Scrap too.”
Scrap was still mewing softly, patting gently at Rowan’s pallid face in an effort to wake him up. It’s going to take a bit more than that, little Puss, Ulrich thought sickly as he saw the blood in Rowan’s hair and pooled under his head.
“Well, he’s breathing…” Lenni said a moment later, “But what the bloody hell’s happened…?” he saw a long smear of blood on the wall and steps. “Dammit. Looks like he’s slipped, might even have tripped over Scrap, I suppose, and he’s hit his head. See there? And there? He’s been here a while too, he feels cold except where little Scrap’s been snuggled against him.” He quickly slipped his jacket off and put it over Rowan. “Ulrich, go and get me a couple of blankets from one of the rooms, please, lad. These end ones aren’t occupied, but there’ll be blankets in a cupboard. And then go and wake up the healers. Try not to rouse the whole bloody garrison, but hurry, laddie, and tell them they’ll need a stretcher. Oh, and if you see anyone else on your way, send them to get Captain Fess. If not, go and get him yourself after you’ve got the healer. Don’t worry that you’ll have to wake him up, just get him. Good lad, off you go now. Quick as you can.”
At least young Ulrich’s a good sensible lad who doesn’t panic, Lenni thought gratefully as the recruit hurried away. Scrap crept back and snuggled against Rowan’s chest, still mewing anxiously.
“Hush, little Puss. Hush now. He’ll be all right,” Lenni said softly, hoping it was so as he stroked the cat’s soft fur. That was a hell of a bump on Rowan’s head and there was quite a lot of blood. There was something wrong with that shoulder too. In the glow of the lamp he could see the smear of candle wax that Ulrich had slipped on. Maybe Rowan had slipped on it as well, he thought, but why wouldn’t he protect his head when he felt himself fall? And he couldn’t see a candle or lamp anywhere that Rowan might have been carrying… so why would he be coming down these cursed stairs without a light?
**********
“Fess, wake up!” Bella said, shaking his shoulder.
“Mmm… what’s wrong, love?” he said, blinking up at her sleepily.
“So
meone’s at the door. Can’t you hear Blob barking? Hurry up, Fess, go and see who it is before they wake up the children.”
Cursing roundly, Fess pulled on a pair of trousers and hurried to the door. Blob was dancing around, hackles raised, barking at about half volume at the knocks on the door. The dog knew that Fess wouldn’t be pleased with him for barking at night like this, but surely he knew that this was Blob’s job and a dog had to do his job, didn’t he? Surely Fess would understand.
“Oh, shut up, Blob,” Fess muttered as he pulled the door open, prepared to give whoever was out there a hell of a talking-to. He glared at the very worried looking recruit standing there.
“Ulrich? What the hell’s going on…?”
“Sorry to wake you up, Sir, but…Sir, the… the Champion’s… he’s hurt, Sir, we… we found him unconscious and…” Ulrich stammered.
“What?” Fess tried to pull himself together as Blob galloped out the door and into the night, headed for the main barracks. “What the hell did you say? Rowan’s unconscious? What’s happened to him? Is he all right?”
“I… I don’t know, Sir. The, the healers are looking at him now, Sir, but…”
“Just a minute, I’ll be right there…” Fess hurried back inside to tell Bella he had to go for a while, he didn’t know how long. He pulled on his boots and a shirt and hurried off.
**********
45. “What’s happened?”
Rowan blinked up at the concerned faces of Fess, Cade, Telli and the healers Davi and Zefer.
“What are you all doing here…?” his voice faded as he realised he wasn’t in his bedroom, was in fact in the infirmary. “No… what the hell am I doing here? Gods, my bloody head hurts…” he put a hand to his aching head, felt the bandage there and stopped, completely bewildered.
“How many fingers am I holding up, Rowan?” Davi asked gently.
Rowan frowned at him.
“What? How many…?” he shook his head, winced at the pain and sudden nausea, blinked again and said, “Two, I think… aye, two. Can you not count that far yourself?”
Davi smiled at him. The last time they’d tried this, Rowan had blearily thought there might be four, but he hadn’t been sure. There’d been two then, as there were now. Then Rowan had mumbled something incomprehensible about blood, too much blood, that had made Fess and Cade glance at each other in concern. Then he’d lost consciousness again and remained unresponsive for many worrying hours. It had been a decent knock on the head that he’d given himself. Now it was evening again and the darkness through the window would probably mystify him further.
“But… but what the hell’s going on?” Rowan wanted to know, looking around very warily as the room spun around him and the soft lamplight seared his eyes, “’Tis still night… how long have I been here?”
“Half of last night and most of today, laddie,” Fess said carefully, “It’s almost midnight now.”
Rowan tried to work it out. It wasn’t easy with such a pounding headache.
“So… ‘tis… ‘tis tomorrow night now?” he managed.
“Aye, it is. Now, can you remember last night at all, Rowan?” Davi asked, as both healers watched him closely.
“Last night? I… um… I had supper with Fess and Bella…”
“What did you have?”
“What did I…? I don’t bloody know…” Rowan frowned again as he tried to concentrate. Why was it so damned hard to remember, and why was his head hurting so bloody much? He felt dreadful too. And what was with the bandage, and why were both Master Healers with him? He’d ask as soon as Davi stopped asking his silly questions. And why was he asking such bloody daft questions anyway? “I… we had fish, trout that I’d caught, I think. Aye, trout. And… and apple pie. And then later… I don’t know… I was talking with Stefan about the tournament next week and… and generally minding my own bloody business, I suppose. And I think I went upstairs and read for a bit and went to bed… and I had a bloody awful nightmare too, for what it’s worth. Worst for a long time,” he looked around again carefully, “… And I woke up in here with you lot bloody standing over me with long faces. What’s going on? What’s happened?”
His friends glanced at each other for a moment as the healer Zefer helped Rowan to sit up a bit and Davi gave him some poppy juice for the undoubtedly appalling headache he’d have and something else so his face wouldn’t turn that alarming waxy greenish-white colour every time he moved his head.
“Rowan lad, the Wardens found you on the back stairs of the barracks. We think you slipped on some candle grease that was there and fell,” Telli said carefully as Rowan swallowed the potions.
Rowan’s eyes widened. He remembered the nightmare he’d had the night before, remembered it quite clearly… which seemed odd when everything else was so confused, but it hurt his head to think about it too much. The nightmare had started with the damned halberdier and ended in blood-drenched Trill and parts of it had seemed very real… but that in itself wasn’t unusual. He remembered that he’d dreamed he was awake, which was always very disorienting afterwards, and he remembered trying to wake up, but he couldn’t remember actually waking up.
Another dreadful memory came to him and the healers watched in concern as his face became even paler and he began to tremble.
“Rowan…? What’s wrong, laddie?” Telli asked kindly, anxious and trying not to show it.
Rowan shook his head as he stared at something terrible that wasn’t there. He knew it wasn’t there, but still he could see it, could remember falling and the stones coming towards him…
“I… I…”
“Please, Rowan, tell us what’s wrong,” Davi said, his worry increasing with every moment. Rowan had seemed all right, all things considered, but now he was suddenly more confused and distraught, staring appalled at something that only he could see. His horror was so genuine, so deep, that both healers found themselves looking for whatever it was that had triggered it. All they could see was the blank wall, and that surely wouldn’t…
“I… I fell into the fraggin well…” Rowan managed, “I remember I fell into the…”
Cade stared at him in alarm. He took Rowan’s trembling hand in his, horrified at such a terrible thought. Of course they were all aghast, but only Cade had actually been there in Trill, had seen the dreadful well that overflowed with crimson water, filled with the hacked bodies of children and babies. The moss still clutched in some little hands as they’d scrabbled to find a way out proved that some had still been alive when they’d been thrown in.
“No, Rowan! No, laddie, don’t think that. It was a bloody nightmare. Truly, it wasn’t the damned well. You’re here in Den Siddon and you fell on the back stairs of the barracks and knocked yourself out. That’s why everything’s so muddled now,” he said quickly, “Look at me, Rowan! It was just another fraggin nightmare, like we both still get sometimes.”
Rowan stared at Cade and clutched his hand like a drowning man. Suddenly he shuddered again and nodded slowly as the confusion lessened a bit. As he realised he truly wasn’t in Trill and the brick walls weren’t the walls of the well. Nothing terrible was going to happen to his friends standing around him and watching him with such concern. He moved a hand to the side of his pillow, stopped at the sharp pain the movement brought and hastily used the other hand. He felt Scrap’s warm little body snuggled there and heard the soft purr. Yes, he truly was awake now, he thought, confusing as all this is.
“Aye… just another fraggin nightmare… but it was so bloody real, Cade. And it was different to the usual damned stuff… I… I was looking in the cursed well, and… and suddenly my head hurt and I saw the bricks coming up to meet me and…”
“Perhaps you should try and rest a bit more now, Rowan,” Davi said with a quick glance at his colleague, “We can talk about all this later.”
“I… I don’t think I could rest just now. Please just tell me what happened, but slowly, or I don’t think I can make sense of it,” Rowan said
hesitantly.
Fess and Cade nodded, knowing that Rowan wouldn’t want to try to sleep again after such a dreadful nightmare. They wouldn’t themselves. It’d be a visit to the night Watch and a couple of cups of tea on the battlements for them after something like that.
“And what did you say about the back stairs?” Rowan managed, “What the hell was I doing there?”
“We don’t know, Rowan. Maybe you woke up and couldn’t sleep…” Fess shrugged, “Maybe you were going up to the battlements…”
Rowan frowned and tried to remember, but the harder he tried, the less he could recall with any certainty.
“Dammit, I can’t bloody remember…but no, I don’t think so… I’d have gone by the main stairs, they’re closer… I almost never use the back stairs…”
His friends exchanged glances with the healers again.
“Perhaps you might have been… um… sleepwalking,” Cade said slowly as he thought about it again.
“Dear Gods, I didn’t… I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?” Rowan said, worried that parts of the very real-seeming dream might have been… well, real.
“No, no, nothing like that,” Telli said quickly, “But you’ve done yourself no bloody good at all, laddie.”
“My head…”
“You’ve hit your head at least twice, Rowan. Perhaps the first knock woke you up enough for you to see the stairwell as you fell…” Zefer said thoughtfully, still thinking about Rowan’s suddenly increased confusion and distress and his conviction that he’d fallen into the damned well. It made more sense if he’d been walking in his sleep.
“Aye,” Davi said, “You’ve got a hell of a lump on your head, Rowan. Well, a couple really, as Zefer says… and I’m sorry, but we had to clip a bit of your hair. There’s a gash with half a dozen stitches there. You were damned lucky not to crack your skull, I’d say. Just as well you’ve got such good thick hair. You dislocated that right shoulder, though, and your ankle’s…”