by A J Dalton
The woodsman frowned as he took dried leaves from a shelf and added them to the water. ‘You may call me Ash. What news from Heroes’ Brook, Irkarl?’
Jillan hesitated. ‘Ah … er … the road leading out of town is still flooded, so wagons are not coming to Saviours’ Paradise at the moment.’
‘I see. Travelling alone is a tad dangerous, though, isn’t it, despite how handy you are with a bow?’
Jillan nodded. ‘I am on pilgrimage. We must be prepared to suffer danger for our faith. I have chosen to take the long route round for the same reason. Ash, is it not dangerous living out here on your own?’
Ash stared at Jillan for a moment, clearly debating with himself how to answer. With a sigh, he finally said, ‘There are no pagans to be afeared of hereabouts, Irkarl, or at least I’ve never met any. As I said before, there are few that are able to stalk me without my being aware of it. And then … Well, bring your beaker of tea with you and we will sit outside for a while.’
Curious, Jillan did as the man bade, and they moved over to the brazier. Ash sat on the ground with his back against a comfortable-looking rock, while Jillan sat on an upturned log.
‘We need to wait for a bit,’ Ash said simply.
Jillan cupped his hands around the steaming beaker against the cold, and sipped at it. It was slightly astringent – his mother would have added a spoonful of honey to it – but it served well enough to spread some warmth through him.
‘How did you end up here in the first place, Ash?’ Jillan asked in the dim fitful light coming from the brazier.
There was no response for a long while, and Jillan wondered if the woodsman would bother to answer at all. Then, in a surly voice: ‘You are inquisitive, Irkarl. It’s not really your business, but I am one of the Unclean. Does that frighten you?’
‘Er … I don’t know what the Unclean are. It’s got nothing to do with washing, has it?’
‘No!’ Ash spluttered. A pause. ‘It’s far worse than that, certainly not something with which someone on pilgrimage would want to become involved.’
‘Really?’ Jillan asked in as light a tone as possible.
‘Really. I am outcast. The Saint wanted nothing to do with me. He forbade me ever to take a wife or to sire any children. When my parents died, the elders of Saviours’ Paradise decided that the house I grew up in should go to a family, so I had nowhere to live. I was effectively banished. They tolerate me visiting the community and trading on market days – the skins I take always go quickly and my carvings seem to be popular – but otherwise they don’t tend to like seeing me around. I imagine you’ll want to be leaving now.’
‘No, no,’ Jillan assured him. ‘I’ll stay a while if you’ll let me. But why would the Saint take against you? Did you do something bad?’
‘Ha! You really don’t know what it is to be Unclean then. You’re not Unclean because of something you’ve done, but because of something you are! I was born this way. Have you been Drawn yet, Irkarl? You’re of an age.’
Jillan was glad that the man wouldn’t be able to see his expression in the near darkness, because he would surely have discerned something was amiss. ‘Er, no. I will be Drawn when I reach the end of the pilgrimage.’
‘Of course. Well, let me tell you something of what happens when a person is Drawn.’
‘No, don’t! I mean … it’s a holy sacrament that’s meant to remain secret, isn’t it?’ Jillan tailed off. ‘Sorry, forget I said that. I would be happy to hear whatever you can tell me, Ash.’
‘Well, make up your mind. So, the Saint asks you to drink a small amount of some thick wine and then sticks a tube in your arm.’
‘A tube?’
‘Yes, a thin tube. It’s made of sun-metal.’
‘Really? I’ve never seen sun-metal. Does it really shine like they say?’
‘Anyway, the Saint sticks the tube in your arm so that blood comes out. The taint’s meant to come out with the blood, you see. But when the Saint tasted my blood—’
‘He tasted your blood? Yuck!’
‘When he tasted my blood, he said the taint wasn’t coming out and that I was Unclean. I couldn’t be Drawn. Then I became outcast, and that was that. But I prefer it this way. Here I can do whatever I want. I don’t have to work in the fields or with herds of animals. I don’t have Heroes watching me all day. I’m free to come and go as I want. Free.’
‘That’s … that’s …’ Jillan began, but he didn’t know what it was really and became quiet as he pondered all that he’d heard. They remained in a companionable silence for a good long while.
Ash brought them out of their reverie when he said, ‘Ah, here he is.’
‘Here who is?’ Jillan asked, looking round. He gasped as he saw a large black wolf lying no more than six feet from them. Its orange eyes burned like coals in the darkness and Jillan’s entire head would have fitted between its mighty jaws. Its tongue suddenly lolled out of its mouth and licked its long teeth as if it had heard that last thought.
‘Aaash!’ Jillan whined.
‘Do not fear, Irkarl. The wolf still eats well at this time of year. A month from now, however, with snow on the ground and most prey gone into their winter sleep, you might have left this place with fewer fingers than when you arrived.’
‘Ahh!’
‘I’m joking, Irkarl! Don’t take on!’
The wolf’s tongue lolled again and it panted a few times as if sharing the joke.
‘Is it friendly?’
‘Is not the fact it hasn’t eaten you yet friendly enough, Irkarl? But yes, he is the reason I do not fear to live out here alone. None can get close without the wolf knowing about it and warning me. For all that, though, you managed to come here and draw a bow on me. It shows I mustn’t become complacent. Maybe the wolf let you through to teach me a lesson. Who knows?’
‘What is its name?’
‘I don’t know. He hasn’t told me.’
‘How could he tell you? Wolves can’t talk!’
‘Just because you haven’t heard it talk doesn’t mean that it cannot. It may simply choose not to.’
‘Well, why don’t you give it a name?’
Ash shook his head. ‘It’s not my place to give him a name, Irkarl. Besides, he’ll already have one. He just hasn’t decided to tell it to me. And why should he? There’s no real need to, and names have power, you know. Who am I to have power over this wolf, eh?’
‘Hello, wolf!’ Jillan said politely. ‘My name’s Irkarl. Pleased to meet you.’
The wolf growled and bared its teeth at him.
It can’t know that I’m lying about my name, can it?
‘Easy, wolf! Irkarl is our guest. What sort of hosts would we be if we scared him to death, eh?’
The wolf subsided, but it did not take its menacing gaze off Jillan.
‘Well,’ Ash said with a smile, ‘time to cook something, I reckon. The wolf may feed himself well, but it’s never averse to a bit of extra squirrel. Do you like squirrel, Irkarl?’
‘I’m not sure – I’ve never tasted it,’ Jillan admitted. ‘But I’ll come with you,’ he added, not wanting to be left alone with the wolf.
Jillan sat back feeling comfortable for the first time in days. They’d enjoyed a roasted squirrel each, Jillan sharing half of his with the wolf to buy forgiveness for his earlier lie, and now they sat out by the brazier drinking some cloudy fermented concoction with which Ash was proudly generous and jealously mean by turns. Jillan had not cared for the muddy drink at first, but after half a beaker or so his judgement shifted and he accepted more whenever it was proffered. With the wolf breathing deeply by his side, food in his stomach and a friend to share his thoughts with, all seemed right with the world. He felt relaxed and safe.
‘You know, Asssh, these woodsh aren’t sho bad!’
‘Of coursh they’re not. How could they be, with me living here?’
The wolf groaned and stretched out longer on the ground.
‘True, true. But
I was … thinking.’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, you know you shaid you were free here? Well, you aren’t really, are you?’
‘What do you mean?’ Ash protested.
‘You’re not allowed a wife or children, are you? And you’re forbidden a larger community. Yesh, you’ve got the wolf, I know, but you pretty much live in a punishment chamber without wallsh, don’t you?’
‘Well, you live in a punishment chamber with walls, don’t you!’ Ash shot back. ‘Tell me, which one’s better, Irkarl?’
‘Huh. They’re probably as bad as each other. You’re right. Can I have shome more?’
‘Of course I’m right! Careful, though, that sounds a bit like blasphemy, and you’re a good little pilgrim, aren’t you, Irkarl? You’re trotting along to the Saint like a good little boy to have yourself Drawn, just like your Minister, mummy and daddy told you to.’
‘I am not!’ Jillan shouted belligerently. ‘My parents didn’t tell me anything like that! They …’
‘Oh, he changes his story now! Now he’s not on pilgrimage! Can never make up his mind, this one.’
‘I’m not on pilgrimage! I’m … I’m …’
‘You’re what?’ Ash asked intently. ‘Don’t you think it’s time you told me the truth, Irkarl, if that’s your name? The wolf doesn’t seem to think it is. I would think the truth is the least you owe me after I’ve shared my fire and stores with you, wouldn’t you, especially when you pretty much forced your way in here?’
‘I …’ Could he trust this strange man and his even stranger companion?
Ash dropped his voice and made it gentler. ‘Look, who am I going to tell? The trees? The sky? You’re clearly in some sort of trouble. The way I see it, we’re stuck in the same punishment chamber, you and me, and only have each other to help us escape. Here, let me fill that beaker of yours – it must have a leak in it ’cause it always seems more empty than full.’
Jillan sighed and held out his beaker with a nod. ‘My name’s Jillan.’
‘Well, that’s a start. And what misfortune has the world forced upon you that sees you end up with a patched-up old man of the woods and a flea-ridden wolf?’
The wolf made a rumbling noise but did not move from where it lay by the brazier.
‘Overweight too.’
A louder rumble and then a show of teeth.
Jillan smiled weakly and took a swallow of Ash’s forest brew. ‘Someone died,’ he said quietly.
‘Ahh,’ Ash breathed.
The brazier fizzed and sighed.
‘It was my fault. I ran away instead of letting them put me in a punishment chamber.’
Ash nodded. ‘How did they die, Jillan?’
‘There was a fight. Three of them. I … Well, there was something like lightning and it killed Karl. Then there was the inn. The innkeeper had me trapped in a room, and when he came for me, a similar thing happened.’
‘That whoremonger Valor, yes? It’s no loss, Jillan, believe me. There’s a reason why he had to leave Saviours’ Paradise and set himself up in the middle of nowhere. All knew what went on and what that poor girl had to suffer. Her mother took her own life when she found out, they say, although others say Valor did for her when she tried to protect the girl.’
‘The Saint is after me, Ash! He always knows everything. And I think he’s now taken my parents prisoner. What am I to do? There’s no escape.’
‘Come now, that’s not the warrior who caught me unawares speaking. That’s not the man who has come all the way from Heroes’ Brook on his own speaking. That’s not—’
‘Godsend, not Heroes’ Brook.’
‘All the way from Godsend then. That’s not the fellow who finally gave Valor the comeuppance he deserved, now is it?’
‘I suppose not,’ Jillan conceded morosely. ‘But what does it matter? The Saint will find me, and then I’ll suffer the worst punishment possible for all the things I’ve done. I deserve it too.’
‘Poppycock and midden water! Like me, you’ve been born a bit different, that’s all. How is it your fault how you were born, eh? No, don’t contradict me! I won’t hear otherwise, Jillan. You’re just going to repeat all the bigotry and irrational fear people have spouted at you over the years. Look, worst comes to the worst, you can stay here with me. The most you’ll have to contend with is the wolf’s farts when he’s had too much hedgehog.’
Jillan shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t. My parents told me to go to Saviours’ Paradise. There’s someone I need to find. If my parents are freed at all, they will also meet me there.’
Ash rubbed his chin in thought. ‘There’s a good chance the Heroes of Saviours’ Paradise have already been told to be on the lookout for you. It’s dangerous.’
Jillan shrugged. ‘I have to try.’
‘Well, there’s a market in Saviours’ Paradise two days hence. There will be quite a few people from other communities coming into town, and if I go with you you won’t stand out as much as someone trying to enter on their own. We can go, ask around for this person for a day or so and then be out of there before you attract too much attention. We can also leave word with someone to watch for your folks in the weeks ahead. That person can pass on the message that you’re at my cabin in the woods.’
Jillan thought it through and nodded.
‘You’ll need to cover up that armour of yours, though. It’s quite distinctive. What are all those symbols anyway? I don’t recognise them.’
Jillan shifted uncomfortably. ‘Me neither. I found it in an old barn. I don’t think it belongs to anybody, and I don’t think anyone has really seen me wearing it, but I can wear a cloak over it.’
‘And who is this person you need to meet? I might know him and be able to save us some time.’
‘Thomas Ironshoe.’
‘Thomas? Nope, I don’t know anyone by that name. Still, Saviours’ Paradise is a big place and a lot of people come and go. Anyway, that’s settled, eh, Jillan, m’lad! We are co-conspirators and adventurers! Let’s drink to that! Co-conspirators!’
‘Co-conspirators!’
The wolf began to snore.
As night was falling, Saint Azual and his men reached the inn. He was in a foul mood – not used to being in the saddle for prolonged periods and therefore really not enjoying the day’s ride through the bad weather. But it had been necessary to conserve energy. I will make sure the boy suffers for every moment of this blasphemous humiliation!
He climbed stiffly out of his saddle and threw his reins to one of his guards. He strode up to the door of the inn and pounded on it. Metal-clad though it was, his fists left visible depressions in the surface.
‘Open this door in the name of the Saviours!’ he boomed, using his power to amplify his voice. ‘Open it, or, so help me, I will turn it to tinder.’
Within a few heartbeats there was the sound of bolts being drawn and a pale young face looked out.
‘Open the door for your holy Saint, girl! Ingrid, isn’t it?’
The girl gulped, pulled back the door with some effort and stood aside so that the glowering Saint could enter. She curtsied as he passed and said tremulously, ‘Welcome, holy one.’
‘Prepare food and drink for my men, Ingrid, while they stable their horses. Captain Skathis, have the man and woman confined to separate rooms upstairs. You’ll find the rooms quite secure, and the girl has keys. I sense no plague here.’
‘As you will it, holy one.’
‘On second thoughts, girl, leave the victuals for now. You and I need to exchange words in private first.’
‘In private, holy one?’ she asked faintly.
‘Yes, girl, unless you want an audience to your crimes and shame?’
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. ‘Th-this way, holy one.’ She led the giant representative of the Saviours into the side room and sat in one of the chairs. Her hands shook as she held onto the front of her dress. Her knees knocked together and then urine began to trickle onto the woo
den floor beneath her feet.
Azual wrinkled his nose in distaste – it was at times like this that he wished his senses weren’t quite so sharp – but his voice was not unkind as he said, ‘You need not fear me, child. My duty is the good care of the People. Come, collect yourself.’
Ingrid nodded and pulled a small handkerchief from her sleeve with which to wipe her nose. ‘Yes, holy one.’
‘Now, tell me, Ingrid. Where is your father?’
Her eyes showed naked fear. ‘My father, h-holy one? Why, he went to town for provisions.’
Azual sighed patiently. ‘Did not your father explain to you that the blessed Saviours and their holy Saints know all things?’
She shook her head, tears beginning to run freely down her drawn cheeks.
‘I know that he is dead, child. I know that you have disposed of the body. Do you understand it is a sin and blasphemy to lie to a Saint?’
Ingrid began choking and sobbing. Her voice was a wail as she begged, ‘Forgive me! I did not know what else to do. He smelt bad, and it’s my job to keep the rooms clean. I’m sorry if I did wrong.’
‘I am not without compassion and mercy, child. I know how your father mistreated you. Do you really want my forgiveness?’
‘Yes, more than anything, holy one!’
Azual smiled. ‘Good. Then you will tell me everything you know of the boy.’
‘Of course, holy one,’ she said without hesitation. ‘Yes. It was him who killed my father. He did it! Only …’
‘I know what Valor tried to do, Ingrid, but tell me anyway.’
‘My father tried to lie with him, holy one, and then Irkarl killed him. He left without paying his bill either.’
‘Irkarl, you say?’
‘Yes, the boy. He said that was his name. Irkarl from Heroes’ Brook.’
‘I see. Go on. Which way did the boy go? Towards Saviours’ Paradise or back towards Heroes’ Brook?’
‘I-I don’t know, holy one. I’m sorry,’ she said in earnest distress.
‘No matter. Tell me, Ingrid, was there anything else you noticed about Irkarl?’
She bit her lip. ‘Erm … he was wearing some funny leather, like armour, with gold patterns all over it, but that’s all really.’