Trestan got up the courage to walk closer to the girl. Whispering words of reassurance, he gently examined the bandage around her leg. Cat could not see the leg, but she could tell from the way Trestan took in a sharp pull of breath that he didn’t like what he saw.
Putting on a confident look, Trestan told the man, “I can help her.”
Cat watched as Trestan prayed once again to Abriana. The child was scared at first, but as the miracle healed her she looked with awe. The young paladin had no ability to restore a lost limb, but he removed the gangrenous infection that affected her. The father showed great relief that the wound had been cleansed. He thanked the young paladin fervently, offering his own prayer to thank Abriana for her champion.
Another wounded person stepped forward. Trestan heard another tale of pain and fear about how the raiders had inflicted this wound. Once again Trestan drew forth his reserves of energy to tap into the healing power. Trestan served as a fine representative of the Goddess of Love and Healing as he moved to help the ones in need. Unfortunately, no sooner had he healed one person then another stepped forward. All of them had a sad, horrified story to tell. Trestan listened to them as they told him of their hurts, their fears, and their helplessness. He brought forth all the healing energy he could muster to help them with their pains.
These were not strangers whom Trestan helped, for all of them he had known from the days growing up in this small community. The young warrior heard stories of neighbors and old friends who had suffered from the raid, as he helped to heal those who had survived. He learned the names of many acquaintances that did not survive the attack, leaving behind grieving families. The events of the attack came together piece by piece until it seemed that Trestan could see himself in the village that day, amidst all the chaos.
Trestan’s energy was expended, and yet still another person stepped forward with a broken shoulder. Trestan looked upon the young man’s injured limb with saddened eyes, strained with the efforts of healing and the weight of sorrow for their pains. He knew his spirit was too taxed to channel another miracle.
“I can heal you, but be not afraid,” Trestan reached back and drew forth his magical elvish blade. “I have to rely on a source of healing that will bring some pain to me, but worry not about my safety!”
Runes inscribed on the blade bore its name in elvish, the Sword of the Spirit. It was a rather long but narrow blade, fitted with a hilt that could accommodate a two-handed grip easily. The elvish patterns etched on the blade had been copied into Katressa’s Taef’ Adorina when Trestan and the wizard Korrelothar constructed it. The elvish bastard sword displayed a remarkable, enchanted cutting power beyond any nonmagical sword. Trestan used it now for another power locked within the design of the blade. The sword could be used as a link, whereby one person could send their life energy to heal another, but the drawback was that the healer would be inflicted with pain and injury themselves. Any person could heal the pains of another, if willing to sacrifice their own health.
With a hand on the young man’s wounded arm, Trestan willed forth the healing energies of the sword. Predictably, pain wracked him as some of his life-force transferred to the wounded man. Trestan stopped short of fully healing the arm, collapsing to his knees as his own pain became too great. The young villager moved his arm around with fewer limitations than before. Despite his inner pain, Trestan offered up a weary smile.
“Be easy on that arm, it will still take time before it is fully healed.”
The young man stepped back, revealing one last person seeking an ailment to her injury. The maiden cradled a hand blackened by fire. Trestan looked into her face and saw hope fade, for she could see in his eyes he had nothing left to give. The maiden looked down, shedding a tear for her hurts. The champion of Abriana determined then that he would risk serious injury to help her. Trestan wasn’t sure he would even be able to make it back to the village under his own power once done.
A slender, feminine hand stopped him. Cat, who had watched villager after villager healed while she could do nothing, held Trestan back.
“It’s my turn now.”
Trestan looked up into Cat’s crying eyes. The half-elf heard every sad story told by the villagers and had cried with them in what little comfort she had been able to offer. Now, her nimble hand latched onto the handle of the sword, but Trestan did not let go.
“I can’t ask you to do this.” The champion of Abriana implored.
Cat replied, “You didn’t. This is my choice, my chance to help. You should rest now.”
When Trestan continued to stubbornly hold onto the sword, Cat leaned in close and whispered privately to him. “When you have rested, you will be able to cure our injuries. I would be willing to endure, for one day, the pain that has tortured this woman for over a week.”
Trestan looked into her eyes with love, and released the sword to her grip. Cat carried the sword over to the maiden. The young woman shifted nervously, but she spoke her thanks. Cat laid a gentle hand on the maiden’s shoulder.
“Be well again,” Cat said, before she opened up the flow of life energy between them.
* * * * *
After the other villagers left the shrine, Cat and Trestan wearily stumbled down the path back to town. They walked slowly, cringing from the aches their bodies endured using the sword’s magic. The sun, low in the sky, finally appeared through scattered clouds. It had been a long day.
“What now my love?” asked Cat.
Trestan considered it for only a moment. “There is time enough in the day to visit a dear old friend. Let’s go see Petrow.”
CHAPTER 5 “Petrow’s Family”
“I have only embarked on one great adventure since we returned with the stones,” Petrow stated as he hoisted the small boy up to his lap. “The adventure and excitement of always keeping one eye on this little troublemaker.”
Petrow proceeded to tickle the three-year-old. He giggled, the only noise the shy boy uttered during Trestan and Cat’s visit. The child, blue eyes matching those of his father, wriggled in Petrow’s lap. He tried hard to retain a small wooden carving of a bear in his tiny hands. The tickling brought forth laughter from the other occupants of the dining area as well.
Trestan and Cat leaned against each other on a bench running along one side of the table. Both remained exhausted from their ordeal employing the healing powers of the sword. A stew provided some refreshment for them, though their bodies still craved rest. Nevertheless, they stayed awake and were entertained by Petrow and his children. They laughed as the little boy escaped his father’s arms and ran around the room. Eventually, the child grabbed a hold of his mother’s skirt and hid behind it, with just those pretty blue eyes and light brown hair peeking over the length of it.
Inedra, the farmer’s daughter Petrow married right after returning with the holy relics, laughed as her child suddenly took refuge near her legs. Her auburn hair was in a bit of disarray, between running after children and taking care of chores on the farm. The woman’s freckled face smiled down on her son, even as her hands cleaned bowls.
Trestan asked Petrow, “And you named him Wilhelm? After Sir Wilhelm?”
Petrow chuckled, “Aye, I wanted to honor the man, Tres. The lad goes by the name Lil’ Willy; that’s what everyone calls him.”
Cat turned to regard a crib in one corner, her gaze drawn to the sleeping child within. “How did Leane get her name?”
Petrow looked over to his second child, a young daughter only a year old. Her little cherubic face peeked out from under a colorful blanket. “Leane was named after Inedra’s grandmother, whom I never got to know.”
Inedra set down the last bowl and herded Willy back towards the table. “My grandmother was a special person, who gave me so many fond memories. I wanted to honor her name.”
Trestan nodded, and then asked, “What about the third child? Any names picked out yet?”
Inedra rubbed her palm over her waist, though it was too early for her to show
swelling from her latest pregnancy. She answered, “Not yet, it’s still early. Give us a little more time. Closer to the date we’ll argue over one.” She grinned at Petrow, “And how many times have I asked you not to wear your hat to the dinner table?”
Petrow, looking sheepish, reached up and removed the straw hat that was fast becoming another of his favorite possessions. Some things about Petrow never changed. He stayed tanned and muscular from all the hard work he did outdoors. His old woodcutter’s axe hung on one wall. The blue-eyed man still liked to wear sandals, even though he had a good pair of boots set near the door. Long hours tilling the soil of his farm left his feet dirty. Inedra and Petrow lived in a small house on land that once belonged to her father. He gave a portion to them and now Petrow grew his own crops.
After setting the hat aside, Petrow looked to Trestan and Cat. “And how about yourselves? Any adventures brewing?” A mischievous smile grew behind Petrow’s words.
“Oh, that wasn’t a very subtle way of asking was it? You shouldn’t pin them with such an open question like that.” Inedra remarked.
Trestan and Cat were a little taken back by the direct query. Surely the two of them were in love and planning on spending time together, but Cat struggled internally with the question of longevity and their respective ages. Trestan and Cat both tended to live for the moment and not dwell as much on the future. In looking at Petrow and his family, it brought to mind their hesitancies.
Trestan dodged Petrow’s question. “We hoped to have some good times together now that I’m not restricted by the walls of the seminary. We planned some journeys. Sadly…to come back home and find this…it’s shocking. In such a short time, I have learned of the deaths of so many lifelong acquaintances and friends.”
Inedra sat beside Petrow, their eyes grim. Although their family survived unharmed, they lost friends and neighbors. It was no wonder that Willy stayed quiet and shy, often hiding behind the folds of Inedra’s skirt, or clutching at his precious wooden bear. The lad was old enough to feel the change around him, but too young to understand it.
Petrow commented, “It’s been a hard, sad time since that day, Tres. Many folk do not know how to move on and get past it. Your visit here has been the only joyful moment since that day.”
Trestan asked, “Petrow, when the riders came, I’m told none in the village put up any kind of a resistance. Why didn’t you fight them?”
Inedra’s reaction surprised Trestan. She glared at him for a moment, before holding herself tighter to Petrow’s side. Petrow paused as if he had a lump in his throat.
He spoke quietly, “Tres, you have to believe there was nay difference I could have made. A small army rode into the town and my first concern was for my family. I had to see them safe.”
Silence descended in the room. Trestan and Petrow both had their eyes downcast, though Petrow kept close to Inedra.
Cat reached across the table and put a soft hand on Petrow’s arm. “There would have been naught you could do except leave your children fatherless.” She turned to look at Trestan. “It has been a terrible time for all.”
Trestan nodded, “I’m sorry if I sounded accusing of anything, Petrow. I feel very helpless. Cat and I had the chance to bring relief to a few of the villagers, but if my prayers found their wish it would be that I could undo what was done.”
Inedra looked to Petrow’s grim face, “Petrow will always be my hero. I couldn’t raise the children without him.” She turned to look across the table again. “There are many families suffering. I thank the gods every day that we survived unharmed.”
Trestan offered a smile to the couple, “It is a blessing indeed that some whom I hold closest and dearest were not hurt. Abriana watch over you always.”
He continued talking in a more somber tone, “Maybe I’m being selfish; however, I believe it’s more then that. I truly looked forward to riding into the far countryside with Cat. We hoped to visit some scenic places she told me about. Instead, my past comes back to pain me. The very adventures leading us down this road were for naught. Revwar and Savannah once again possess the village’s relic and the powers it possesses.”
Petrow disagreed. “Not all for naught. Even if they have the one stone, the other two are safe in Orlaun. We served a purpose back then, and it was not all undone.”
Trestan’s eyes widened, “As far as we know, but what if they are to be stolen next?”
Petrow had no answer to that. The rest of the room fell silent as they all considered the implications.
Trestan began to smooth and stroke his mustache as he sat in quiet contemplation. As his hand moved, he caught a glimpse of something. He held his right hand before his face, staring at the metal band on one finger. Faithful’s Companion glinted in the firelight. On its surface remained a few symbols of deeds he needed to complete before returning to the seminary as a full-fledged paladin.
“Maybe this is my task”
Petrow asked, “What task?”
Cat put an arm around Trestan, looking into his eyes to see what thoughts were stirring there. Despite the weariness Trestan felt, he somehow sat taller as his resolve formed around a solution. The chosen champion of Abriana spoke, “Despite my plans with Cat, I am away from the seminary for a reason. This ring represents challenges yet before me if I wish to continue to become a paladin in the service of my goddess. The squires leave the seminary at the Embarking, only to search out a quest or adventure by which to finish the requirements of Abriana.”
Cat’s eyes turned sad with the news she expected, and yet she smiled as Trestan reaffirmed the values she loved about him. Her melodic voice asked, “You plan to go to Orlaun?”
“Aye,” Trestan nodded, “One relic is stolen, but there are two more to protect. This is an obligation which I shall not shy away. Korrelothar must be warned of what happened here. The other two stones may still be in jeopardy. We can book passage to Orlaun down in Barkan’s Crossing…”
Inedra openly scowled at Petrow. The handyman-turned-hero-turned-farmer seemed to bite his lip with indecisiveness on how to answer Trestan’s statement. Trestan continued stating his plans to visit Orlaun until Inedra suddenly and hurriedly excused herself from the table. She scooped up Lil’ Willy in her arms and stomped into the bedroom, letting the door slam behind her.
“What was that about?” Trestan asked, shocked.
Petrow took in a deep breath, “I think it was the part about ‘we’.”
Cat studied Petrow’s face carefully as he continued speaking, “I’ll…have a talk with her.”
Trestan tried to move past the awkward moment, “Well, once we get to Orlaun we’ll see what needs to be done there. I wish all of our old friends were together again. Anyone know where Salgor is?”
Cat answered, though her eyes drifted between Petrow and the closed door. “I’ve seen him a few times, but last I knew he was prospecting for a spot to build his pub. He took a ship out of Kashmer some time ago. I have nay idea how we would know where to contact him.”
Trestan frowned, “That is unfortunate. How about Mel?”
Petrow pointed southward, “He went back home, though I’ve heard little from him. Apparently, his family wasn’t too happy to see him back, but you know Mel, he’s not bothered by it. He took up residence in his home village in the woods along the road, though I couldn’t tell you what mischief he may be up to today.”
Trestan grinned at that, “We’ll be passing right by his home! I can’t wait to see him again.”
Cat observed the way Petrow glanced at the bedroom to the side, when Trestan stood and stretched. The young squire of Abriana grabbed his helmet and his sword belt.
Cat got up as well as Trestan commented, “I feel so tired, and yet so eager now that I have a path before me. It feels good that I can resolve to do something helpful. We can go see Korrelothar and great city of Orlaun. Yet, while there, we can warn him about guarding those relics closer.”
Trestan and Cat grabbed their belongings a
nd approached the door. “Thanks again, Petrow, and thank Inedra for us, for your hospitality and the food. We have to get some rest. It’s a long journey before us, and I want to get started early.”
Petrow said little, but helped them out the door. Trestan and Cat walked under the starry sky, toward the lights of the village. Petrow’s small farmhouse receded into the dark.
During the walk, Cat shook her head and commented, “It amazes me. You can read the mind of a bear and see its pain, yet you can’t read the emotions on your friend’s face.”
Trestan asked, “What do you mean?”
Cat looked back over her shoulder, though Petrow’s farm was unseen in the dark behind them. “You didn’t see the looks traded between him and Inedra? You didn’t see it in his eyes? He isn’t coming with us in the morning.”
Before Trestan could argue, Cat turned and stopped him, gently putting her hand on his cheek. She lifted up on her toes to plant a small kiss on his lips, before resuming her course towards the village.
Over her back, Trestan heard her repeat the prediction. “He isn’t coming.”
* * * * *
The nightmare struck like it often had during the past few years.
A number of faces surrounded him, cruelly laughing at his predicament. They formed the ugly background of the dream: the hazy jeers of drunken, evil men.
At the forefront, he felt the hot breath of the bull before turning to regard its reddish eyes. One of its long horns, broken, leaked blood out of the shattered end. The bull gave out a roar unlike any a bull would utter, a roar more akin to an angry minotaur. It charged him and sent him sprawling to the ground. He was unable to rise, yet the bull rose up on its hind legs and brought its front hooves crashing down on him.
The Earthrin Stones 2 of 3: Trials of Faith Page 9