Beyond the Fire

by Dewayne A Jackson

  A fiendish laugh filled the air. Shivering, Wart looked back and saw several men sweep torches into the brush. The dry plants caught fire instantly, and before anyone could react, the forest was ablaze.

  Suddenly, Watchers appeared everywhere. One grabbed Wart’s mount while another pushed Wart, Seagood, and the others toward the river. Several rafts floated near the banks.

  “This way,” someone said as strong hands propelled Wart onto the waiting raft. When Wart turned, he saw it was his father. “Dad!” he cried.

  “There’s not time now, Son,” Benhada said. “Just stay low on the raft. Don’t become a target for their archers.”

  “But will you get away?” Wart cried.

  “Probably! Now go!” his father replied.

  Rudy was the last to board, and his weight tipped the raft dangerously in the water. However, strong hands across the river pulled the raft quickly and quietly to safety. There were many hands to unload the party and their cargo, and soon the four companions were mounted again and riding west.

  The Watchers returned to the river to rescue their comrades across the water.

  The company rode in silence until they cleared the forest and passed into open country. Rough hills rose barren and bleak all around them. Wart loved this reckless country where forest and desert lay side by side. He wasn’t sure in the dark, but he thought they couldn’t be far from his childhood home.

  They stopped to check the stretcher, and Rudy fussed again. “We got to stop dragging Thomas all over the country. He’s burning up.”

  “There’s not a house in sight,” Mathias said. “I don’t think anyone lives here.”

  Seagood leaned over from his horse to stroke Thomas’s face as if totally unaware of their predicament. Rudy could not understand his lack of leadership. Ever since they had departed the caverns, he had become a follower instead of a leader.

  “Sure, people live here,” Wart said.

  “Where?” Mathias demanded. “I don’t see any signs of life.”

  “Shepherds live up in those hills,” Wart explained, pointing to lonely canyons etched in the rugged hills. “There are caves back in there that they’ve turned into homes.”

  Rudy studied Wart with growing wonder. What would they do without him? He was a living book of knowledge. “Do you think you could find one of those homes?” he asked.

  “I think so,” Wart said.

  “We really need to stop and care for Thomas. He can’t travel much farther,” Rudy said.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been here,” Wart said, “but let’s take this ravine. We shouldn’t have to go too far.”

  Everyone turned to follow the lad while Seagood sat quietly lost in thought beside Thomas. They had not traveled far when Wart stopped. “Here’s a residence.”

  Rudy looked all about and wondered if the lad had gone daft. There was little to be seen in the moonlight, but there was nothing to suggest a residence. “Where?” he demanded.

  Wart swung off his mount and stepped into dark shadows along a wall of stone. Disappearing from view, Rudy could hear him knocking at a door.

  “Well, I’m blessed,” Rudy whispered to Mathias. “I thought the lad was pulling our leg.”

  “He may be,” Mathias said. “No one is answering the door.”

  “Maybe we could use the house if it’s empty,” Rudy said.

  Wart returned to the group. “I’m sorry. They must be asleep for the night.”

  “There is no light,” Mathias observed.

  “That doesn’t mean much,” Wart said. “They might think we are robbers—or worse, Jabin’s men. I wish there was some way to let them know.”

  Suddenly Seagood stirred and dismounted as if awakening from a dream. Striding into the shadows, he found the door and rapped a distinct code: three staccato raps, a pause, two raps and then a single rap. There was a long pause, and the series was repeated. Seagood repeated this process three times and then stopped and waited quietly.

  Rudy leaned close to Mathias. “I’m afraid the strain has been too much for him.”

  Mathias didn’t answer, but to everyone’s amazement, the door creaked slightly and swung open.

  CHAPTER 30

  Deliverance

  Inside the cave, an oil lamp flickered on the table, illuminating a tiny room. The old shepherd and his wife had gladly surrendered their only bed to the grievously wounded man. Though Mandra bowed to Seagood, it was Wart who chatted with the old couple.

  Rudy, Mathias, and Seagood labored over Thomas, bathing his wounds and applying liberally the healing balm of Amity. Its bittersweet aroma filled the tiny house and brought encouragement to those in the outer room. The house was a cave, and the bedroom was separated from the main room by only a single woolen blanket.

  “So you see,” Wart was explaining, “the silent man is Lord Hesketh, prince of the Gray Lands.”

  The couple sat in astonishment. “I had given up hope,” Mandra said. “I feared the king would not return in our day.”

  “It’s like a dream,” Mandra’s wife whispered.

  “The man my friends are trying to save is Master Thomas, Prince of Amity,” Wart announced proudly, bringing further astonishment to the old couple.

  “Two kings in our humble house.” Mandra shook his head.

  Just then, Rudy came from behind the curtain. His huge frame eased into a chair near the table. His eyes were dark and troubled. Weariness washed his features. “I’m afraid we’re going to lose him, Wart,” the big man said, his head sinking to his hands.

  Mandra’s wife rubbed the big man’s shoulders and said to her husband, “Too bad the Lady of Healing is not here.”

  “What’s this about a lady of healing?” Wart asked excitedly.

  “The Ravenna,” the woman said, nodding. “It is said that she has healing power within her fingers.”

  “Are you talking about the Ravenna of the Gray Lands?” Wart grew more excited. “Do you mean the Lady Helsa?”

  The old couple cowered. “Do not speak her name so freely, young man,” Mandra said. “She is held in very high esteem here. Many are the tales of the Ravenna’s healing power. We do not know if they are true, but the stories are abundant among the shepherds we know.”

  “Rudy.” Wart shook his friend’s shoulder. Rudy raised his head, tears in his eyes. He couldn’t understand how Wart communicated with this couple. He could hear the couple speaking, but their words meant nothing to him.

  “Rudy!” Wart said excitedly. “These people believe there is a lady with healing in her fingers.”

  “Oh, Wart,” Rudy interrupted. “Everyone believes some fool story.”

  “No, Rudy,” Wart insisted. “They believe it is the Lady Helsa who has healing power.”

  Rudy sat up straighter. “What?” he asked.

  “That’s what they believe,” Wart insisted. “They wish she were here to help Master Thomas.”

  Rudy leaped from the chair, nearly knocking the table over in his haste, and rushed behind the curtain. There was a muffled conversation in the bedroom.

  Moments later, Seagood emerged from the room with Rudy in tow. Mandra and his wife bowed at Seagood’s appearance, but the men paid no heed. They rushed outside as Rudy shouted over his shoulder, “We are going to get the Lady Helsa.”

  Wart looked at the bewildered couple kneeling on the floor. “Really, you do not need to bow to Seagood,” Wart said. “He doesn’t think of himself as royal.”

  They heard the clatter of hooves outside, so they were surprised when Rudy came back through the door.

  “What’s wrong?” Wart cried, for Rudy’s face was pale and distraught.

  “He went alone,” Rudy managed to say. “He didn’t want me along. He’s never left me behind before.”

  Mandra’s wife laid a gentle hand on Rudy’s arm. “Y
ou are too tired,” she said in her native tongue. The couple made a pallet near the fire, and soon Rudy was fast asleep.

  Daylight rimmed the edge of the world in pastel blue as Seagood rode out of the ravine. He noted all the landmarks for his return and turned his mount west. He kept the pace easy as he collected his thoughts.

  He remembered the crowds waving for both Helsa and himself, but there had been no cheering. The populace had remained silent, as had he and his sister. Wasn’t the true king supposed to free his people from their curse of silence? Seagood wondered. If he was the king, why hadn’t the curse disappeared?

  I guess I’m just a soldier, Seagood thought. Even though I grew up in Stonewall under John Stafford of Amity, I have not been trained to rule a nation. I can lead men into battle, but I have never tried to guide them into a safer, more prosperous way of life. Levi and Helsa are doing quite well leading the Gray Lands. They do not need me.

  Seagood had been away from his homeland too long. True, he had been raised by the ruler of Amity, but James, Thomas, and Philip had all been groomed to lead, while Seagood had chosen to withdraw from those lessons. He had not wanted to impose himself upon Amity, but now he was wishing he had sat in on some of those sessions. He might be feeling more confident now if he had.

  What would happen if Thomas did recover—if, when he returned to the Gray Lands, he won the crowds over with his ability to speak, his wisdom, and his sophisticated manners? What if Helsa were to fall in love with Thomas? She was already considered the queen, and if she and Thomas married, that would make him the king.

  Seagood shook himself. He didn’t like this feeling of jealously that had come worming its way into his heart. He loved Thomas and wanted what was best for him, and he also wanted to rule the Gray Lands himself.

  Seagood was troubled by his thoughts. He forced himself to remember the distant details of his childhood: the terrifying days adrift at sea and the lonely days after his rescue. He’d lost his ability to speak while on ship with his father. Even after his rescue, he could not communicate with people. He’d felt wretched and alone. Many days he’d hoped his father or someone he knew would come to his rescue, but no one came. He’d tried to act tough, but he remembered how scared he really was. That was how it had been on the day John Stafford came to his room.

  John Stafford had stood in his doorway and watched him for quite some time. He’d seemed friendly enough, but Seagood had remained indifferent. Finally, the big man had walked over and asked, “I say, lad, are you hoping someone will rescue their shipmate?”

  Seagood had been startled to think that this man could read his thoughts. He had merely stared at John Stafford while two boys peeked around their father’s legs.

  “Do you see that tower over there?” John had asked, pointing to a tower on the nearby fortress of Stonewall.

  Seagood had nodded.

  “That is a much better place from which to watch the sea. That’s where we live, so I should know. Why don’t you come home to live with us?” John had asked. “From there you can watch the sea as much as you like.”

  Thomas had stepped from behind his father, offered his hand, and said, “I’d like another brother.”

  James had stepped out and countered, “Yeah, Thomas wants another brother because he can’t whip me, and I’ll bet you can’t either.”

  Seagood smiled. He had gone home with the Stafford’s and had grown to manhood in their home. The gracious Helen had raised him as one of her own.

  But Amity would never be his. It belonged to Thomas or Philip. This wild, barren land was his home, and these were his people, his kingdom. But an ugly fear arose in his mind again. Would his people choose Thomas as their ruler?

  Seagood felt wretched. Turning his thoughts toward heaven, he silently prayed, Heavenly Father, You have guided me all these years. You kept me safe upon the sea and brought me to Stafford House. By the strangest of events, You brought me to my own home and my sister once again. You have given me a kingdom. But now, would You have me yield my kingdom to Thomas? I want to be willing to do so! Restore the love I once had for my brother!

  Tender memories flooded Seagood’s mind. During their rough-and-tumble play as children, Seagood could not remember James ever saying “I’m sorry,” but Thomas had always been offering his hand and asking, “Are you all right?”

  Now Thomas was at death’s door, and Seagood wavered in the balance. His eyes burned with tears of shame. Turning west upon a dusty trail, he slapped the reigns of his mount and raced toward his home.

  Helsa stood by her eastern window, studying the long shadows cast by the setting sun.

  “Helsa.” The voice startled her. She had heard no one enter the room. Seeing her uncle Levi, her anxiety subsided.

  “Do you expect your brother so soon?” the old gentleman asked.

  Helsa looked away from his searching eyes.

  “Nay, lass!” the old man said seriously. “Your brother embarked on a dangerous mission. His only hope is if the Almighty One opens a path for him.”

  Helsa turned to her uncle with wide, frightened eyes.

  Levi held up his hand. “Slow down, child. I said the Lord would have to open a door, and I believe He will.” Helsa relaxed a little, and he continued. “Besides, it is only the third day since they left, and they would barely have had time to ride to Endor and back, let alone look for their companion.”

  Helsa breathed a deep sigh and looked out the window again.

  “Will you sup with me?” her uncle asked.

  Reluctantly, Helsa followed the old man from the room.

  “Will there be anything else, dearie?” Helsa’s maid asked as she turned the bedding down and laid Helsa’s night things in order. She bustled about the room, straightening little things here and there to give purpose to her presence.

  Helsa shook her head, but the maid appeared to have no intention of leaving.

  “It’s no good!” the maid grumbled. “No good at all!”

  Helsa stopped brushing her hair and turned to the old woman.

  “I mean,” the woman continued, “your brother skipping off into the unknown.” She looked at Helsa and wagged her finger vigorously. “Bewitched, that was what he was. He should have stayed right here. Why, the king himself couldn’t have had a better welcome! But did he stay? Not for a minute!”

  It had been this way for the last two nights. Helsa knew her elderly maid could go on for hours if she didn’t put a stop to it. She slipped over and embraced the old woman’s shoulders.

  “Oh, dearie,” the old woman sobbed. “He shouldn’t have left you.”

  Helsa gently steered the woman toward the door.

  “But you waited and hoped so long, and I see your disappointment!”

  They reached the doorway, and Helsa stooped to kiss the wrinkled cheek.

  “I love you so much,” the old woman choked.

  Helsa wrapped her arms about her maid, and they embraced for a long moment. Both women’s cheeks were damp when they finally parted.

  “My lady!” a voice called urgently from the corridor.

  Helsa stirred. It seemed only moments since her head had touched the pillow.

  “Lady Helsa,” the voice persisted.

  She wanted to shout “Go away,” but of course she couldn’t. Reluctantly she left the warmth of her bed and shivered when her feet hit the cold floor. The room was dark, save for one lamp burning very low upon the shelf.

  “Lady Helsa,” the voice called again.

  It sounded like her uncle’s messenger boy, but why would he come in the middle of the night? Fear shot though Helsa. Something must be terribly wrong!

  Lifting the latch, she peered into the hallway. The messenger boy quickly turned his head and looked away. Helsa realized she had forgotten to slip into her robe. Clutching her gown about her, she touched the boy’s arm.


  “My lady,” the boy announced into the hall, “the Lord Guardian asks you to come to the throne room at once. A guest awaits you!” He glanced discreetly at Helsa to see if she understood. She nodded, and he fled down the hallway.

  Who can the guest be? she wondered. They close the gates at sundown and do not open them until morning’s light. Why would they open them at this late hour?

  Anxiety mingled with expectation as she slipped into her dress and footwear. Her legs felt shaky as she stepped into the ancient corridor. There was no one about, so she nearly flew down the hallway. Outside the throne room, she stopped to calm herself and catch her breath.

  Her fingers touched the latch as she looked up and down the hallway. She saw nothing out of place, no one stirring. The palace seemed to be asleep for the night, but her heart told her something very alive was on the other side of the door.

  She lifted the latch and pushed the door aside. The room was far brighter than the hallway, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. She could see two guards beside her uncle, and the old man wore an expression of deep concern upon his face.

  Another figure moved at her arrival. She caught his movement out of the corner of her eye. Turning, she stopped short. Her brother had returned!

  Rushing to him and holding him tight, she thought of the strange men who had accompanied him. Though their language had sounded somewhat different, she had understood every word they’d said. She did not know why they referred to her brother as Seagood when his given name was Hesketh, but none of that mattered while she held her brother in her arms.

  “Children, children,” the old man pleaded after a long moment.

  Dutifully, Helsa turned to face her uncle Levi, but she still clung to her brother, hardly daring to believe that he was really there. She looked first at her uncle and then back to her brother. She knew her uncle was speaking, but her heart was so full that she only caught snatches of what he said.

  “Helsa …” Her eyes drifted toward her uncle. “Brother …” She glanced back to her brother. “He wants to ride back …” A shadow quenched the sunshine she felt in her soul. “ … go with him! What will you do?”