The Chronicles of Nevin Reasoner: The Complete Duology

by Thomas Lombard

  “There is no time for talk. Anson is in danger and held captive. He has been bound to a tree and beaten. If you are to save him, you must hurry.” Zamora’s voice was labored and her face grim, as if she herself was suffering.

  “Well, so much for introductions and polite conversation,” Nevin said as he gathered two parcels. “Let’s go! I figure we have less than an hour before the sun is completely up. Are you going to join us, Miss Zamora?”

  Zamora nodded nervously. “For now. Please hurry.”

  * * *

  They already knew approximately where the Gilsum camp was located, since they had seen it across the river the day before. By crossing the river in the pre-dawn dark they did not know how far downriver they had gone, nor how slow their return by foot would be. Orris set a good pace, which they all equaled, and it was barely an hour before he waved anxiously for them get down. The rising sun was up in the east.

  “The camp is just ahead” Orris whispered. “I can see one sentry. He seems like a nervous lad.”

  “The first thing we have to do is figure out where they’ve got Anson,” Nevin answered.

  “I can tell you where they have him,” said Zamora.

  “Well, that’s good news,” Nevin replied with a hint of sarcasm. “We would like as much help as you can give. Maybe you could chime in with a spell so we could just walk in and cut him loose?”

  “I would do that if I could, but you have already been told twice that we cannot cast a spell to aid you. You have powers among you,” Zamora said impatiently. “Look to yourselves and not to others to meet your needs.”

  “Nevin, to us you are the one with high skills for spellcasting.” said Corissa. “It was you who caused the King’s reception room to go dark during mid-day.”

  “To tell you the truth, I didn’t know what I was doing. I only know the words to a few spells and I don’t—”

  “Please, Sir Nevin. Do what you can. Anson’s life depends on our action.” said Orris.

  Nevin thought their expectations for him were unfair, but he had to admit that he had been successful at creating what appeared to be magic spells even if he could not totally explain it. He knew the words for the spell of indifference, which, if it worked this time, could possibly keep him from getting noticed. Intuitively, that seemed like a bad idea. It would be too risky for him, with his relatively large size, to march into a camp with a thousand pairs of eyes and expect no one to raise an alarm. Still, he thought, if the indifference spell had at least some affect, perhaps he could walk around the perimeter until he located Anson. That was as good as a plan as he could think of.

  “OK. I’ll try it. I need something to cut his ropes, if he is still tied—”

  Before Nevin could finish his sentence Corissa handed him her dagger, leaving no doubt that the next step was his to take. It was still stained with blood, which left him chilled. He sidled a few feet away to better isolate himself and kneeled to gain his concentration. He took a few deep breaths and recalled the words that Anson had taught him. After a moment or two, he recollected the pattern formed by the words and focused his mental acuity. He felt a slight twinge. When he looked back at his friends he saw them talking intently to each other, hearing Orris regret letting Nevin go in alone. Corissa answered by saying that he would come back safely and not to worry. They looked and talked as if he was not still kneeling there only a few feet away from them. He caught a look from Zamora, who broke a faint smile and nodded for him to go on. Obviously she saw him, confirming the impossibility that he suddenly could become invisible, but still was perplexed why the others acted like they didn’t see him.

  Nevin moved out swiftly but carefully, still cautious to stay as hidden as possible in whatever cover was available. He remembered it was important to maintain concentration or the spell would lapse. Once he got close to the first sentry, it would be evident whether the spell was working—or not. If so, then he would circle the camp. If not? He would not let himself think of that eventuality, except that he realized he did not have the staff that served him before. He was unarmed except Corissa’s dagger, a weapon which he could not fathom using.

  At the outskirts of the camp, Nevin finally approached the first sentry. The guard looked about, occasionally pacing several steps around his designated post. Nevin took a deep breath and walked softly past the guard without suffering any notice. Struck by the guard’s inattention, Nevin stopped as he stood next to him. The guard failed to acknowledge him, even as Nevin slowly walked a circle around him. Buoyed by this success, Nevin continued around the perimeter of the camp until he came to the far end where a single large tent was marked by a fancy banner. His heart stopped when he saw Anson nearby, bound to a tree but slumped over. Anson could have been dead for his appearance, but Nevin would not think the worst.

  A lone sentry stood near Anson, but there were also two other guards stationed by the large tent. Nevin pulled out Corissa’s dagger, hoping he would only need it to cut Anson’s bonds. He sighed at this predicament and muttered that he could use some help. As he took a few more moments to screw up his courage, that help appeared. The wind picked up. Nevin must have failed to notice with the light of morning that the sky was overcast. Drops of water started to dapple the dusty ground. At first a drizzle, it quickly increased to a steady rain. Men who had been milling around or doing working assignments headed for their tents. Soon, the only person immediately visible in the now pouring rain was the lone sentry guarding Anson and the two avoiding the rain in the general’s tent.

  It was now or never. Nevin made straight for Anson. The sentry ignored him, though he apparently did see him. The guard looked puzzled and shook his head, then continued his circular walk around his post. Nevin ignored the soldier and looked after his friend, gently lifting his head. Anson was unconscious but still breathing. After quickly cutting the ropes, Nevin hoisted Anson over his shoulder and sprinted for the closest cover past the camp perimeter. After a glance back, he took off in the direction of his other comrades.

  Once Nevin was well away from the camp, he set Anson down and checked him over more closely. The rain seemed to have some therapeutic effect as Anson stirred and let out a moan. They were still close enough that someone might hear the cries, so they had to move farther away before properly tending to Anson’s needs. This time Nevin hauled the mage piggyback style for a better distribution of weight, so they made good time without having to stop. It was not long before they met their anxious companions. By this time, the rain was letting up. Nevin gave a silent thanks for the fortuitous weather. As uncertain as he was about all this magic stuff, a change in the weather had to be just dumb luck.

  Nevin set Anson down once more, but it was Zamora who moved quickly to check the condition of the mage. She knelt over him and with both hands cradled his head with a tenderness that caught the others by surprise. As far as they knew, Anson and Zamora had never met, so this level of solicitude was unexpected.

  Orris whispered a concern about being discovered, but Nevin brought a finger to his mouth to hush the soldier. Without knowing why, he felt they had to wait for Zamora.

  After several minutes Zamora sat back and sighed deeply, her face showing relief. This time, as she spoke, her voice conveyed a tone of confidence and authority very similar to Hillister.

  “Anson will live, if you tend to him. He has been badly hurt but his spirit is still strong. He has shown you how far he would go to serve your mission. To prevent the taking of a life, he nearly sacrificed his own.”

  Zamora carefully removed her hands from supporting Anson’s head. Standing to face the others she said, “I must leave now, and you must go on with your plan.”

  Nevin studied Zamora until their eyes met. She smiled at him and nodded, as if approving—of him, or them, or what he didn’t know. Yet, he felt a sense of confidence radiating from her and it raised his spirits. She stared at each of them in turn, clearly evaluating them and looking pleased. As Anson stirred, she bent down again to
comfort him. When she rose again, the strange woman surprised them all when she said, “I wish I could remain with you to help restore Anson to health, but we are pleased that he will be cared for by those who love him as we do. He will recover quickly with his knowledge of herb medicines, if you provide what he asks.”

  Anson cried out sharply, drawing their attention. Orris, Corissa and Nevin all rushed to his side. Nevin looked back to ask Zamora a question, but she was gone.

  Orris urged them to leave before the soldiers sent out parties to look for Anson, knowing he was in poor condition and would not be far off. Nevin slung Anson on his back as before, and with Corissa in the lead, they hurried off toward the northwest.

  Chapter 12

  Canby

  After half a day of upland travelling, the band stopped on a prominent hillock sheltered on all sides by thickets of short spindly trees and stretches of high grass. From the top, they could see for a distance in all directions. The sun was high and the temperature grew warm, a welcome comfort as it kept them and their parcels dry.

  Anson had lain on a comfortable bed made from tufts of grass they pulled and heaped for him. By this time, he gained full consciousness and the realization that he had been rescued by his companions.

  While Orris and Corissa tended to Anson, Nevin also recovered from the constant uphill track taxed by the burden of carrying his friend. It was a small effort compared with what Anson had endured, but once stretched out Nevin found it difficult to get up. He was already asleep when Corissa asked him if he would look for water.

  Orris was carefully pouring Anson a drink from one of the water bottles when the mage choked and sputtered, then struggled to speak.

  “Pouch…”

  Orris did not understand.

  “My pouch…”

  Orris quickly searched through Anson’s belongings until he found a small cloth pouch with several pockets. With uncertain hands, Anson grabbed it and searched for some dried stems and leaves. After awkwardly crushing the material between his palms, he put the collection in his mouth and chewed it. He motioned for another drink, which Orris provided. As soon as he finished a long drink of water and swallowed the herb mixture, Anson closed his eyes and slept.

  Since Nevin was also heavily asleep, Orris conceded this spot was safe enough to remain until morning. Corissa agreed, adding that it would be best to see how Anson would recover before moving on.

  * * *

  When Nevin woke the next morning, Anson was already sitting up talking quietly with Orris. Under Anson’s direction, Orris had made a medicinal salve of bittersweet and chamomile which Anson applied to his own external bruises and cuts. The mage continually flexed his hands and legs, indicating that the salve was having its desired affects. Seeing that Nevin was now awake, the mage winced from various pains but managed a smile as he greeted him.

  “I hope you rested well, Sir Nevin. You deserved a long night’s sleep for your efforts. Words fall short of expressing my gratitude for the risk you took.”

  “The words I want to hear from you, Anson, is your promise you will not run off on your own again.” Nevin was amazed at his friend’s quick recovery. How could this man act cheerful after such an ordeal?

  “Ha! You are right, my friend,” Anson answered with his customary gracious tone. “We were meant to work as a team. My military friend, here, has told me several times this morning that we are still the ‘Alliance for Antrim’ and an alliance cannot succeed if its members are scattered about.”

  “Still the ‘Alliance,’ eh?” Nevin said with feigned annoyance. “Maybe we should find some rope and bind this alliance together so no one gets lost.” They all laughed at that.

  Corissa finished preparing some items for a meager meal and they leisurely talked and ate till Anson said he needed to sleep. He prepared another dose of bugleweed, which allowed him a few more hours of restorative rest. When the sun was high, he woke again and said he was able to travel if they kept the pace moderate. While the others debated whether it was wise for Anson to walk so soon, he loaded his pack and started heading to the northwest.

  The topography soon changed markedly. The vegetation was mostly sparse grass and random low bushes with low rocky hills to cross. Atop one of the hills, they got their first glimpse of the mountain where they were headed. It was named after the great ruler who commanded a vast realm as one kingdom, Corissa explained. Off in the distance, Adel’s Mountain was prominent in blue haze against a background of many other lighter colored peaks. Nevin studied this view, concluding that the light color was not due to snowfields but to lightly pigmented rock with little or no tree lines. It posed a stark image compared with the lush flora he had experienced in Antrim. If a city could be located up there, it might be an imposing fortress.

  Corissa confirmed his guess by explaining the capitol city, Taunton, was built right into the mountainside and walled so there was only one common access. She cautioned them that its apparent proximity was an illusion, knowing that Anson and Orris, at least, had no experience with mountain travel. Nevin affirmed her caution, adding how the pioneers of the American West cheered their first sighting of the Rocky Mountains, but grew disconsolate at the number of days it actually took to reach them. His comrades found the name “Rocky Mountains” amusing.

  Corissa said it would take their party at least four or five days to reach Adel’s Mountain, assuming no trouble. She was concerned that they be able to replenish their water bags, because much of the distance ahead had few places to get water. They were fortunate, she said, that it was still the spring of year since it should not be oppressively hot. During the sweltering summer months, no one would risk travelling this road for very long without ample supplies.

  Corissa also informed them they would soon reach the main road, known locally as the King’s Highway; by nightfall they should reach a small town where they could spend the night. Nevin asked if it was unwise to travel openly, but Corissa pointed out that they had little choice. There were only a few known places to obtain water and each had a surrounding settlement of some type. The local people were not friendly to outsiders, but they knew the need to share water. She assured Nevin that Gilsum folks would probably not flock around to gawk at him, as had happened in Sartell, but would keep to themselves. As long as the little band had a believable story to explain their presence, they should fare well. Corissa had concocted a story which should provide an adequate disguise for their mission.

  The downhill walk from their resting place made it easy to start off again. After climbing and descending one more set of foothills, they came to the King’s Highway. They followed the road for a while, encountering only two small groups of travelers. True to Corissa’s prediction, these travelers offered no conversation and stayed far to their side as they passed. These Gilsum hillfolk only gave quick, nervous glances and the chance meetings quickly passed with no exchange.

  A few hours farther down the Highway, they sighted the town of Canby. A settlement of a dozen or so scattered buildings, it seemed unusual to Nevin for the small homes to be widely dispersed. Since they were living under harsh conditions, he thought it would be more adaptive to live closer together. After some musing, he presumed this must reflect the unsociable nature of the people. He nodded to himself with satisfaction over this deduction. It felt good to use his intellect again. Since arriving at Antrim, most of the demands on him were of a physical nature and he hardly had reason to use his scientific acumen; in fact, he was steadily forgetting the details of his previous life. Trying to resurrect his scientific orientation also caused him some distress because of his inadequate explanations for some of his experiences: how the deliverance spell worked, for example. He promised himself he would address this conundrum in due time. Right now, he needed to pay attention to this first Gilsum settlement they were approaching.

  As they walked into Canby, Corissa suggested they approach the largest of the homes because it had a stable where they might be allowed to bed down for
the night. She also picked this site because it was on the edge of the little hamlet and the stable was located a good distance from the owner’s wood frame cottage.

  It was already evening and Corissa bid her band to hurry, as the residents would be less willing to open their door to travelers at night. She instructed them to wait as a group, remaining in plain sight, a short distance from the front door. She would go alone and ask for permission to use the stable and fill their water bags.

  Corissa was met at the door by a highly cautious man and woman. They engaged in spirited discussion for several minutes, with the couple making frequent glances and animated gestures toward Corissa’s three companions.

  Corissa returned and explained they could sleep in the stable for one night. No food would be offered, but they could fill their water bags.

  “What were they so excited about?” asked Nevin.

  “They were concerned how much water a big man like you would drink. I told them you were a feral man raised with the goats of the high mountains, and like the mountain goats you did not need much water.”

  “Thanks a lot.” Nevin was chagrinned, but the others thought it was an amusing reference.

  “Did they question you about the destination of this ‘Goat Man’ and his companions?” asked Anson.

  “Yes, Anson. I told them you were a healer who had special knowledge of herb lore and were sought by me to help heal my mother, who is gravely ill in Taunton.”

  “What about Nevin and Orris?”

  “Orris is my personal guard, paid by my father to keep me safe. Nevin is your servant. To allay their fears of him, I told them Nevin has the mind of a child and merely grew large because he has some troll blood in his ancestry.”

  “A troll’s descendent again! Since I am now your pack animal, I suppose I should carry all the parcels to the stable and go nibble some straw,” sputtered Nevin, who would have preferred that Corissa look at him in a more flattering light.