“Argh!” he exclaimed as he removed his wet boot from the lake.
The water inside the boot squished about when he stepped back to remove his water skin from his shoulder. He knelt on the bank and sent a wave of ripples across the peaceful surface when he plunged his empty skin into the water. A steady stream of bubbles followed as the water drove the air from the empty skin. Not waiting for it to fill completely, he yanked the skin from the lake and lifted it to his dry lips for an eager drink.
After filling and drinking from the water skin two more times, he filled it to the top, capped it off, and stepped back from the water’s edge. Exhausted and hungry, he wrapped his cloak about him, curled up in the long grass and drifted to sleep.
* * *
A horrifying wail woke Benny. His eyes shot open, but fear held him captive. For a moment, he only heard his own heart thumping above the swishing from the breeze teasing the long grass. Another wail sounded, closer this time.
Time trickled in a slow drip as Benny waited in fear. A thumping sound arose above the swishing of the grass, growing increasingly louder. Something was coming. A grip of terror tightened around Benny as he cringed beneath the tall grass shoots. The thumping became a rumble as a banshee ran right past where Benny lay. The beast did not slow as it headed east, its pounding footsteps fading into the night. Tears clouded Benny’s eyes, driven by the debilitating fear he felt inside. If a banshee found him, he’d be torn apart and eaten. He really didn’t want to be eaten.
Minutes passed, and the fear began to subside. The logical side of Benny’s mind resurfaced and he realized that banshees are most dangerous at night. Running in the dark would be a bad idea and was bound to attract their attention. He needed to wait until daylight before he moved. Resigning himself to remaining still, Benny tried to think of other things in an attempt to calm himself enough to sleep. Sleep did not come.
* * *
Benny stepped from the long grass and onto the blackened earth. Pausing, his gaze scanned the barren acres that stretched before him. The bare patch extended from the south ridgeline to the north and up the slope to the upper plateau.
He began walking across the burned fields, heading toward the upslope.
“Well, now I know where all the smoke came from,” he said out loud, although nobody was around to hear him.
In fact, there was no movement or sign of life within view. He glanced up at the sun, high overhead. It appeared normal today, bright and friendly. The smoky haze from the day before was gone and the cloudless sky shined bright blue.
As Benny crossed the field and found burned husks of dead banshees, he assumed that the fire had been intentional, set by the humans to destroy the carcasses and to prevent disease. However, if Brock and the others thought that the banshees had been eliminated, Benny knew better. Thoughts of the prior evening sent another wave of shivers down his spine.
Scanning the horizon again, Benny spotted something to the southwest. Unsure of what it was, his curiosity drove him to change direction and head toward the object.
As he closed the distance, Benny recognized it as the remains of the Academy trailblazer. Benny continued toward the destroyed machine, thinking of Master Nindlerod. He truly liked the old man and felt saddened by the death of the Engineering Master.
He approached the contraption and found it lying on its side. The metal housing was dented and scorched, blackened by the fires. His hand rested on the machine, the metal feeling warm in the mid-day sun. Benny leaned his forehead against the trailblazer and closed his eyes to mourn his old instructor. Frustrated by Nindlerod’s death and Benny’s own situation, he pounded his fist on the trailblazer. A tinny thump echoed inside the hollow cabin.
A moment later, two soft thumps echoed in return.
Benny’s eyes shot open and he stepped back from the machine.
“Hello?” Benny said, unsure if he actually heard what he thought he heard.
“Help,” a weak voice came from inside the machine.
Benny scrambled up the contraption until he reached the side door, which faced the sky. He worked at the handle, trying to get it open. After a few tries, the handle turned with a loud squeak. Benny opened the door and peered inside to find the cabin empty.
Breathing hard from the effort, Benny panted and spoke to himself again.
“You’re beginning to lose it, Hedgewick. You’re imagining things.” He nodded. “It’s because you haven’t eaten in two days. Your mind is going because of the lack of food.”
“Help me.” The weak voice sounded again.
Benny leaned closer, peering down into the empty cabin. Not seeing anybody inside, he sighed.
“Oh well. Let’s just go in and put this to rest so you stop imagining things,” Benny said.
He lowered himself into the cabin and found it a mess. Torn off its hinges, the boiler door was wedged against the fuel compartment door at the back. Benny’s brow furrowed and he bent down to pick up the fallen door to see what was beneath it. With a grunt, he lifted the heavy door and leaned it against the wall of the cabin. He turned back toward the fuel compartment door to find it opening. Benny’s eyes widened when a hand reached out toward him.
“Argh!” he exclaimed.
“Help me.” The voice pleaded.
Benny’s heart was thumping from the shock, but his brain recovered. He grabbed the door handle and lifted. It swung open, and the small form of an old man emerged.
“Master Nindlerod!” Benny said, so excited that he almost dropped the door on the man.
Nindlerod crawled through the doorway and gave a weak smile. “I’m glad you showed up, Hedgewick.” He pointed toward Benny’s water skin. “Can I have a drink of that?”
* * *
Benny gasped for air, exhausted from the uphill climb. The smell on the battlefield was awful and the sight was worse. Banshee and human remains littered the churned earth as they rotted in the afternoon sun. The fire below had burned away much of the remains of the dead, but the battlefield upon the upper plains was another story.
He and Nindlerod turned and angled toward the south, circling most of the dead as they walked to where the humans had camped. While Benny wished that someone would still be waiting when he arrived, he had expected everyone would be gone with the battle finished. The empty, trampled fields confirmed his expectations.
“What’s that?” Nindlerod pointed to the west.
Benny followed the old man’s finger, finding something blue above the grass, waving in the breeze. As they approached, he recognized it as an apprentice cloak from the Academy, tied to a pole sticking up from the ground. He looked down when he reached the pole and discovered a loaded pack waiting in the long grass.
Bending down, Benny examined the pack and noticed a piece of paper poking from the outer pocket. He slid the paper out and unfolded it to read the message scribbled inside.
Benny,
I hope you are well and that you find this pack of supplies. Judging from what Ashland told me, you likely drifted dozens of miles by the time the Chaos-effect wore off enough for you to land. I expect you will eventually make your way here, so I leave this for you since I expect that you’ll be hungry, thirsty, and tired.
We have departed and are returning to the school. I wanted to wait for you, but I am responsible for these people and am obligated to do otherwise. Come and join us as soon as you can.
Your friend, Brock
PART IV:
Revelations
CHAPTER 35
The group rode in silence, weary from another long day of travel. The clopping of horses’ hooves on the gravel roadway was all Ashland heard for the past hour.
From atop her chestnut mare, she glanced toward Salina, finding the other girl staring at Brock. Again.
With dark hair, large brown eyes, and a complexion to die for, Salina’s natural beauty made Ashland self-conscious. The fact that Salina had curves that Ashland lacked added to the issue, especially the way she flaunted herself whenever around Brock. Ashland would watch Brock’s eyes, searching for the moment when he looked too hard at Salina, or even openly leered at the other girl. However, that moment never seemed to come.
Throughout their trip from the Tantarri Plains to Fallbrandt, Salina hovered about Brock, frequently touching him and rubbing against him. Ashland would take Brock’s hand or arm to make it clear whom Brock loved, but Salina seemed to ignore it. Worse yet, Brock appeared oblivious to the whole issue.
They rounded a bend, and the first buildings at the outskirts of town came into view. Brock, Ashland, Parker, Tenzi, Salina, and Cam slowed their horses to a trot as they entered the darkening streets of Fallbrandt. Libby loosened her grip about Ashland’s waist, reminding Ashland that the girl rode behind her. In the five days that had passed since leaving the Tantarri Plains, Libby hadn’t spoken. Already thin before Tipper’s death, Libby had eaten just a pittance in the days since. Throughout the trip, Libby had been silent and often even despondent. Ashland was concerned for her, as was Brock. Returning her to the only home they knew of seemed the best option.
A boy darted into the road before them, running from one street corner to another as he activated the glowlamps on the posts that marked each street. When The Quiet Woman came into view, Brock led the group around the back and into the dark stable yard.
A teenaged boy emerged from the storage shed attached to the stable, the same shed that had been Tipper’s home. Ashland turned toward Brock and found him staring at the door. She suspected that he was thinking of Tipper, again feeling sorrow at the loss of his boyhood friend.
As the boy approached, Ashland addressed him. “Hello, Neddy. We’ll be staying the night. The horses need hay and water, but they are not to be bridled.”
Neddy’s brow furrowed when he approached Ashland’s horse. “How am I to manage them without a bridle?”
Ashland slid off her mare and helped Libby down. “They are Tantarri horses so you won’t worry about them straying. If you need to lead them, just place your hand on the horse’s neck like this…” She placed her hand on Autumn’s neck and began to walk. The horse followed calmly… “And the horse will follow.”
Neddy smiled. “Neat.”
Ashland turned toward the others and found that Brock wasn’t the only one staring at Tipper’s old home in silence.
She stepped up to Brock and took his hand. “Let’s go in and say hello to Dory.”
He nodded, and the couple led the others through the back door and into the inn.
* * *
Ashland glanced out the window and noticed the column of people walking past. After almost two weeks without a bath, the pleasure of soaking in the hot tub of water had caused her to indulge a bit too long. She had still been in the water when Brock poked his head in to tell her that the army was entering town. As she hastily dried off and dressed herself, the others said their goodbyes and went out to meet their retinue.
Turning from the window, Ashland looked toward Libby and frowned in concern. The thin girl’s eyes were downcast, appearing just as lost as any day since Tipper’s death. Ashland felt bad for leaving Libby like this, but had little choice in matter.
She leaned in and gave Libby a tight hug. “Goodbye, Libby. Please take care of yourself.”
Ashland released her, and Libby gave a slight nod in response.
Dory put her hand on the girl’s arm to get her attention. “Libby, why don’t you go and get the baths ready for our next guests?”
Libby nodded, turned, and disappeared down the hallway. Once she was gone, Dory turned toward Ashland.
“Don’t worry about her, dear. She just needs time to adjust. I’ll keep her busy and that will give her mind something to focus on while she works through it.” Dory leaned in to hug Ashland. “Now, you be sure to take care of Brock. Tipper’s death appears to be affecting him as well.” Dory looked Ashland in the eye as she gripped her hand, giving it a squeeze.
Ashland replied. “I will watch out for him.” She smiled. “Goodbye, Dory. Thanks for the rooms and the food.”
Turning to push the kitchen door open, Ashland passed through to the stable yard. It felt odd to enter the kitchen and not find Saul, who was on break until it was time to prepare dinner.
Ashland stepped into the stable yard to find her horse waiting. She mounted Autumn and rode around the building to find the others on their horses beside the road, watching a stream of people and wagons pass by.
Ashland settled her horse just to Brock’s left, wishing that she could have positioned herself between him and Salina, but the girl’s horse was snug up against Brock’s right side. Ashland glanced at Brock to find him watching what remained of their army as they continued down the road toward the Academy. She was concerned about him. Brock had been uncharacteristically quiet during their stay at The Quiet Woman. Even with the luxury of a real bed for the first time in over a week, she knew he hadn’t slept well. When they went to bed, he had held her for a time before rolling over. His tossing and turning during the night kept waking her.
They had remained at the inn for a hot breakfast and waited for Cassius, Budakis and the army to reach Fallbrandt. When mid-morning came, Parker rode south to check on the army’s progress, returning an hour later to report that they would arrive in the early afternoon.
All the while, Brock was quiet and Ashland was concerned. To make matters worse, Salina went out of her way to express concern to Brock, repeatedly touching him and asking if he was all right. With each of Salina’s attempts, anger boiled within Ashland. Unwilling to let her petty feelings of jealousy affect Brock, Ashland kept her concerns quiet, telling herself to let it pass as long as Brock didn’t respond to Salina’s overtures.
Ashland turned from Brock, looking over the rag-tag group that passed before her.
“You’d never guess that those people stopped an army of monsters from destroying the Empire,” Ashland noted.
Brock nodded. “I’m proud of them. They may not be warriors, but they stepped up to the challenge and faced a terrible enemy with courage and determination.”
“Of course,” Salina noted from the horse beside Brock’s horse, “They had these to boost their courage.”
Ashland and Brock turned toward Salina, who fondled the Courage-infused amulet resting on her overly exposed chest. Ashland felt a spike of anger again.
“True,” Brock replied as he turned from the girl to watch the last of the Arcanists disappear down wooded roadway north of town. “Although the amulets help to combat irrational fear, they don’t change the way people think or influence the choices they make. Not one of those people abandoned our cause and a fair number of them paid with their lives. I’ll not discredit anything they’ve done just because we helped them overcome their fear.”
Ashland smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction by the subtle way Brock admonished Salina with his statement.
Brock shifted his horse and turned to face his companions. “Okay, let’s follow along. When we reach the lawn, we will ride past them and give them encouragement. While the returning students have some idea of what to expect, the others may have doubts because of past poor treatment. By the time we reach the school, we need to be in the vanguard with Cassius and Budakis.”
The war within Ashland waged, with her jealous side staging a victory over her logical side.
“Brock, can I speak with you alone?”
He raised an eyebrow and nodded before turning toward the others.
“You guys go ahead. We’ll catch up in a minute.”
With nods that they understood Cam, Parker, and Tenzi kicked their steeds into a trot. Salina stared at Brock as if she wanted to say something. After a moment, she nudged her horse to follow the others.
Ashland watched the other girl depart, staring daggers at her back. Brock turned his horse toward her.
“Okay. What’s this about?” he asked. “And why not just use telepathy?”
Of course, Ashland had considered it. However, she was afraid of what emotions might come across the connection.
“It’s Salina,” she replied.
“Okay,” Brock shrugged. “What about her?”
Ashland suddenly felt guilty about bringing up the issue, hesitating as she considered her words. “It’s just that…I think she likes you.”
Brock’s brow furrowed. “Likes me? I should hope so, considering all we’ve been through.”
Ashland’s anger returned, spurred by Brock’s blindness to the issue. “She wants you, Brock. Can’t you see it? She is all but stripping down and throwing herself at you.”
Brock blinked, appearing surprised. His eyes looked down in thought as he considered Ashland’s words. “That must be why she kissed me,” he muttered.
“What?” Ashland exclaimed.
Brock held his hands up before him. “No, it’s not what you think.” He sighed. “Right before the battle, she warned me to be careful. She kissed me and then ran away. I was surprised and didn’t know what to do. I hadn’t thought about it much since, considering everything that’s happened.”
Ashland was fuming in silence, angry at the situation. She was angry at Salina for trying to take Brock from her. She was angry at Brock for being so ignorant to what was happening around him. Worst, she was angry with herself for feeling jealous.
An Empire in Runes (The Runes of Issalia Book 3) Page 21