I dreamt that the motes had not been killed, merely subdued for a time. I floated above the town and I watched as the motes, now man-sized, formed lines that surrounded the town to lay siege. I knew this to be ludicrous upon inspection, but in my dream, it was so very real. Outside the wall, the entire town’s people stood armed with nothing more than sticks and hammers. I had no idea why they were outside the safety of the walls. Where was the garrison? And I spied them, there, inside the inn, sitting at tables and drinking and eating: all the soldiers of the garrison with their captain seated with them. They sat safely inside the walls, ignoring the siege and the army outside. I watched as they pulled roasted chickens apart and gorged on the meat and laughed when they sloshed the wine from their cups to the ground. I tried to call out to them, but they ignored me.
I turned from them and screamed at the people to run back inside the town gate, but no one heard me. Except there: one young woman. She stood facing away from the motes and instead stared at me without expression. She held a watering can in her hand, but it was tipped, and water spilt freely onto the dirt. Where the water hit the ground, the first shoots of plants erupted from the soil at impossible speeds. As one the motes took one step forward, and I tore my gaze from the strange woman. The motes changed into the figures of men: soldiers, armed and lethal. The villagers didn’t stand a chance against them and I shouted at them. You need swords, I screamed. You need me! I can help you! I can help you all! I tried then to destroy the motes as I had before, but they remained strong. I could do nothing. But with my effort, they noticed me and in horror, I watched as the soldiers turned as one toward me and left the ground to fly and circle me faster than I could move. The villagers turned and watched impassively as the soldiers marched in the surrounding air. I screamed in fear and then they closed. One grasped me close and impaled me with a sword. I felt my flesh and bone split and tear, and the agony was excruciating. My mouth opened to cry out, but no sound emerged. I watched, horrified, as something travelled down inside the length of the blade, the metal bulging and stretching to accommodate it. I felt it enter me and then squirm inside me. Pain erupted throughout my body as it devoured me from the inside.
I woke screaming in the arms of none other than the Reeve. He held me in his arms like a child. I was sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder and the horror of my dream replayed over and over again in my mind as he tightened his arms around me and patted my back. I cried for a long time and I did not know why, only that I had to. I couldn't seem to control my emotions and only managed to stop when my embarrassment overcame my need to cry. I pulled back my head and widened my eyes at the snot and tears that covered the Reeve's tunic at the shoulder. My shame consumed me. The Reeve grabbed me by the upper arms and gently pushed me back up against the pillow behind me. I stared at the large wet spot and Reeve glanced at it and chuckled.
"Yup, pretty gross," he said, and I surprised myself by laughing with him.
I realised that I had very little control over my own emotions. I sat inside my head listening to myself laugh with a kind of awe and tried to will myself to stop. Eventually, the laughter ran down and I lay there simply staring numbly up at the Reeve sitting on the side of my bed. I glanced around the room and finally recognised it as one of the expensive rooms in the inn. Candles lit the room, and it was night outside. A cool breeze entered the open window on my left and stirred the curtains. Outside the window, I could hear the chirping of crickets and the faint sound of frogs down by the river's edge.
The fatigue I had felt earlier was diminished somewhat but still overpowering. My arms and legs were not as heavy as before. I still needed much rest, and I knew I would be unable to leave this bed by my own power for some time. And this made me feel trapped for some strange reason. I could feel the forest pulling at me and I knew that I would feel better with the dirt beneath me—I just had to get there. This sudden longing filled me but I realised the futility of it and forced my attention back to the Reeve.
"W–who..." I started, but my voice cracked and faded before I could speak further, and I raised a hand to my throat. The Reeve reached out and grabbed a skin of water hooked on the nightstand beside my bed. He pulled the stopper with his teeth and handed it to me. I reached up with shaking hands and took it, the weight pulling my arms down to my chest as I struggled to raise it to my lips. As the opening touched my mouth, the memory of the dead rats in the well returned and I quickly turned my head to avoid the water and cried out. Water splashed on my cheek and ran down my neck.
"It's just water, son. Drink, you need it," soothed the Reeve as he tried to reposition the skin to my lips.
I clamped my mouth shut and shook my head weakly and when he stopped, I looked at him. "Where is the water from?" I asked, only able to achieve a dry whisper.
"The well," replied the Reeve and when I stared at him in horror, he chuckled and explained that at one point a few days ago I had cried out about the well water and at the urging of the Reeve, the captain ordered the garrison to investigate. They had been disgusted when they found the rat's nest and quickly cleared them out and replaced the missing stones on the inside of the well walls. The town had then formed a bucket line and drew hundreds and hundreds of buckets of water until it once again tasted clean. I nodded in gratitude, reaching for the skin as he raised it to my lips and I drank the clear, cool water. I felt the water hit my empty stomach and a terrible thirst took hold of me and I eagerly sucked on the opening of the skin like a new born calf on its mother's teat until the Reeve pulled the skin free.
"Easy now. Take it easy. Not too much!" he said. "You haven't eaten in a week."
"A week?" I spluttered in shock, spraying water. "A week? How is that possible?"
I looked frantically around the room trying to find some clue that the Reeve was lying. A week! It seemed so implausible.
"Yes, son," he replied quietly. "Well, six days anyway. Close enough. You've had little but what water we could force down you and some broth that the cook made up special for you."
"Daukyns? Where is he?" I demanded and watched as the Reeve looked quickly down and with a sinking feeling I knew that there was something more to be said about my friend. He paused as I looked at him in disbelief.
"Daukyns spent the first twenty–four hours with you. He stayed until he was sure you were going to be okay," he finally told me before looking away.
"W–wait, there's something else, isn't there? Is he alright?" I tried to push myself up in the bed. The fatigue was returning in waves and it was getting harder to stay focused, but I fought the urge to sleep.
The Reeve laid a hand on my chest and with very little effort pushed me back down until my head lay back down on my pillow. "No," he said. "He's not. But that can wait. You need to get stronger. Thought for sure you were dead, son, and that isn't an easy thing to come back from."
"Dead?" I shook my head at the absurdity and pleaded to the Reeve with my eyes. "Never mind that. What about Daukyns?" The illness I had seen in him was the forefront of my fears. It must have taken hold, I thought. I needed to see him and help him with the coin.
Remembering the coin froze my thoughts and panic struck me. Where was it? I had it in my hand when I passed out in the shack and I was suddenly certain that the Reeve must now have it. What must he be thinking? He would figure it out quickly and know where I found it and know that I hid it from him. My thoughts became jumbled and I could not focus on Daukyns. The coin and the fatigue rose up inside me and it was all I could do to fight it off and remain awake.
The Reeve looked at me for a long while. I was not sure whether he was seeing if I was going to stay awake or if he knew what he was going to say to me. I could only look up at him and wait for my energy to come back.
"I heard you cry out," he started slowly. "I was outside the shack helping the boy clear that junk from his mouth and then you yelled." He peered at me looking for some reaction and when I simply stared back he continued.
"It was a yell of a
nger and victory all mixed together—not one I expected to hear. I rushed in and you were on your side, staring right at me." He paused and took a breath. "You were glowing, son. A blue light was bursting out of you and as I watched it snuffed out like a candle flame and, and..." The Reeve paused longer this time. "I was pretty sure you had just died right in front of me. I've seen men die before and well, son, you looked like you just died. By the Word, one of your eyes was still open and the other half shut! I rushed over and couldn't find any life in you at all."
The Reeve stood up and turned away from me. He went over to the door and looked outside. Satisfied with something, he came back and sat down on the edge of the bed but kept his head toward the door, so I couldn't see his face. I was stunned. Was I glowing blue? Is that what I looked like when I used the coin?
He said nothing for a spell and then continued. He spoke so softly that I had to strain to hear him.
"Wasn't much I could do at that point. Then Martha woke up and her son crawled over to her. They were hugging each other and crying, and I was just sitting there with you dead in my arms. I covered you up and ran and got Daukyns. When I told him what had happened I don't think I've ever seen that man get so distressed in my life and I feared he wouldn't make it over to you. Never seen a man's face get that red and not fall over." The Reeve grew quiet again. He shook his head.
"He put a glass to your mouth, and it fogged over and he said you were still breathing and after that, it got pretty hectic. I talked the innkeeper into putting you up here—the cook helped with that, you should know. He's pretty fond of you. You've been here ever since. Anyway, I've had so many questions going through my mind to ask you and when you are stronger, you and I need to have a talk."
With that, he turned his head toward me and I detected a hint of what looked like fear in his eyes, but that couldn't be. He didn't know what I had done, but he knew I had healed that woman and her boy. Certainly, nothing to fear from me, I pleaded to him with my thoughts. Perhaps he had no idea what to do about me and I wasn't sure how or if I could answer any of his questions. I had no idea what I had done or how.
With a shock, I remembered my sickle and my hand shot up to my shoulder. With a sinking feeling, I realised that I was naked under the blanket. My sickle had been found! My world crashed around me and I cried out. I struggled to rise, but the Reeve pushed me back into the bed. He put a hand into the open front of his tunic and my eyes locked onto my leather bag as he pulled it out and lifted it over his head. He had tied it to a leather lanyard. He pulled my head forward and put it around my neck, tucking it under the blanket. I reached up and grasped the bag and immediately felt the sickle and the coin inside. My relief was instantaneous, and I sank further into the bed and closed my eyes, unable to keep them open any longer.
"We'll talk about those when you get stronger, too." I heard him blow out the candles and the room darkened through my eyelids and I fell into a dreamless sleep.
Six
Jaipers, 900 A.C.
I WOKE IN the morning with the sound of the cook placing a trencher beside my bed. My eyes fluttered open and blinked at the bright sunshine that filled the room. The cook smiled down at me and clapped his hands.
"At last, you're awake! I've brought you something to eat, young Will. Hard cheese, fresh bread, milk, and whole oats. Sit up, sit up! I'll help you. You need to eat! Goodness you've wasted away to almost nothing!"
The cook continued a stream of dialogue, not waiting for an answer from me. The sight of the food filled my mouth with saliva and I wiggled my butt in the bed until the cook grabbed my armpits and lifted me until I could get my upper back against the headboard. The cook took a huge steaming slice of fresh warm bread and dropped it into the bowl on the trencher. It was filled with cooked oats and fresh cheese all soaking in warm milk.
"One second, young man," he said as the bread soaked up the liquid. He took a knife and cut the bread into small bites. He then took a spoon and, sitting on the edge of the bed, slowly started to feed me. "This will fatten you up in no time."
The first spoonful entered my mouth, and I knew that food had never tasted so good. I was ravenous, but less than halfway through the bowl I grew nauseous and had to ask the cook to stop. My stomach was betraying me.
"Hmm, the Reeve was right," he mumbled and nodded to himself as he stood up and looked carefully at me. "I'll leave the bowl here in your room, in case you want more later. Okay?"
I nodded, needing to focus on my churning stomach. Dempster stood there and seemed uncertain as what to do next. The innkeeper picked that moment to poke his head in and frown at the two of us before disappearing down the stairs muttering to himself but the words were lost with the sound of his stomping feet.
"Sorry, Will," he said, wringing his hands over his belly and glancing back the way the innkeeper had left. "I have to return to the kitchen."
Without waiting for a reply he hurried back down to his kitchen, his steps loud on the stairs.
The feeling of nausea slowly faded, and I sank back in bed and tested out my strength by lifting my arms and legs. I wasn't much stronger but I could feel the improvement. This weakness in my limbs was strange to me. It was a bone-deep weariness and not a strength issue; I felt drained from the inside and I simply couldn't do anything for very long. A sudden longing to escape to the woods came over me and I had to push it away. The pull to escape the town was getting stronger, but I assumed it merely came from my having spent more time in town than ever before. Until I could walk to the jacks by myself, I thought, the woods would have to wait.
I had also spent more time in a bed than ever before and I wondered for the first time how I was going to pay for all this. Then I wondered what the Reeve was going to do with me and if he knew what I had done and to what extent. I worried about my future and wanted to run and hide in the woods. I could smell the trees through the smoke from the village cooking fires—nothing could hide that from me. I felt their pull but trapped in this room by my own weakness, I could do nothing but wait and while I waited, I fell asleep again.
When I awoke it was stifling hot in the room and judging by the temperature, it had to be afternoon. I had thrown the sheets off my chest during my sleep and I was covered in sweat. Surely sweating was a good sign of my recovery. I opened my eyes to see the Reeve sitting on a small stool next to the bed.
"Ah!" I cried in shock without meaning to. This waking up and finding all sorts of people next to me was getting tiring. I was used to the outdoors and waking up to solitude. My nerves were rattled. I pushed myself up in bed and marvelled at the strength that was returning to my body. It felt good.
The Reeve reached out to the trencher, brushed some flies away and spooned the remains in the bowl around and glanced at me with questioning eyebrows. I nodded and held out my hands and he handed me the bowl. I quickly spooned some cold milk and oats into my eager mouth and swallowed blissfully. Within seconds I drained the bowl and was scraping at a bit of bread lodged on the bottom when the Reeve reached over, smiling, to gently remove it from me and placed it back on the trencher.
"I'll get the cook to send you up something more filling," he said. "I'll be right back." And with that, he grabbed the trencher and disappeared out the door. I listened to his boots thudding down the stairs and fade away as he moved through the common room toward the kitchen.
I lay back, listening to the quiet of my room, and worried about what the Reeve would do with me. What I had done was insane and unbelievable. He would have reported it to the captain and he would tell his superiors. My mother made me promise to remain hidden and with a sinking feeling, I knew that I had failed that promise. The only option left was honesty. I knew the Reeve was a man I could trust and trust him I must. He would help me; I only had to ask. My heart felt a little lighter with that decision made and I waited in silence for the Reeve to return.
A little while later, I heard the Reeve clomp back up the stairs. He knocked once on the door frame and entered the
room, closed the door and sat back down on the stool. He looked over at me and spoke simply: "Food's on its way. So, tell me what happened."
It took about an hour, but eventually, I told the Reeve the whole truth—except where the sickle came from and what it did. Everything else, well, it just sort of poured out of me. The Reeve interrupted only a couple of times to ask me questions but for the most part, he just sat there and listened intently. When I finished, I lay back, drained, and he sat unspoken, not even looking at me. I waited in the uncomfortable silence and finally, he looked up.
"Well," he said, "ain't that something. Listen, we… "
The heavy steps of the cook on the stairs stopped him from continuing and he rose with a slight scowl to take the trencher from cook when he knocked quietly on the door. The Reeve thanked the cook who left with a beaming smile, and then he placed the trencher on the nightstand beside the bed within my reach. On it was a generous pile of sliced roast pork, with small red potatoes and roasted onions all smothered in a thick gravy. A sharp knife was jammed into the wood in the middle, and the Reeve grabbed it and started to cut up the meat into small pieces. I watched as he stole a piece of pork, popped it into his mouth and he chewed it thoughtfully.
"Mmm," he said around the mouthful, "tasty. That cook knows his business."
"Reeve Comlin," I started to say, determined to make him understand that I had done what I thought was right. I was sure he was disappointed in me and would punish me somehow.
"Yes, Will?" he replied, his attention focused on cutting the pork and potatoes.
"I–I'm sorry," I said.
Startled, the Reeve glanced over at me and seeing the look of distress on my face, dropped the knife, sat quickly beside me on the bed and grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to look into his face. I didn't know what to expect but what I saw there were embarrassment and disbelief. The Reeve searched my eyes.
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