“We gather whatever supplies we can muster. We head north tonight. I will go tell everyone I can,” said Ellison.
“What if someone sees you? You don't exactly blend in,” said Cal.
“They will kill you, but not me,” said Ellison. “Besides … I won't get caught.”
“I'll finish up here and load my wagon with what I have,” said Cal.
“I will tell everyone to meet at dusk by the lake,” said Ellison.
“At least we’ll not want for thirst at the beginning of the journey,” said Cal.
“How so?”
“Look, a storm is coming,” said Cal.
“Dusk … the lake,” said Ellison. He pulled down the hood of his cloak and ran towards Timball.
Cal walked to the captain.
“You cannot do this. I am a captain of the Royal Army,” hissed the captain.
“This filthy village of Timball. The one that you do not concern yourself with … and, therefore, do not know my face. We are leaving your king tonight. But you … you will be staying here … and this image of my face … the one you did not know before … it is the last thing you will see in this life.”
“You will die for this!” yelled the captain, as he tried frantically to pull his leg from the horse.
Cal swung his axe.
Chapter 20
A Difficult Decision
The caravan continued to push north. The gorgons marched the prisoners at an intolerable pace. If a prisoner fell from exhaustion or dehydration, they were thrown into a massive wooden wagon, as if they were already dead. Some of the prisoners were left where they fell. The carrion birds and other scavengers made quick use of them. The gorgon army continued to grow. Scouting parties would join the larger army with more captives each day.
Nylah was exhausted. Her lips were dry and cracking and her throat burned from thirst. Each step she took felt like it could be her last. The soles of her feet ached; blisters had long rubbed off leaving raw skin. Her forehead had started to peel from exposure. Nylah's stomach ached from eating the pasty gruel the gorgons gave them. She walked arm-in-arm with Tilda, the elderly woman that had seen a skin slaver as a child. They leaned against each other as they walked. Nylah would occasionally turn to look at the forest's edge. She searched the tree line for any movement.
“Are you looking for him?” asked Tilda.
“Yes. I don't know why … but yes.”
“Look all you want,” said Tilda, smiling.
“I am so thirsty,” said Nylah. She felt her lips as she spoke.
“You can't think about it. We have to keep walking.”
They walked slowly with the other prisoners. It was a large group that was pushed tightly together. The look of resignation and fear spread throughout the captives. The group itself moved like a large beast that was slowly dying.
“I don't understand,” said Nylah, almost to herself. “If they are invaders, why are we walking north … towards their lands?”
“I do not know the mind of a gorgon. Perhaps, they are bringing captives back,” replied Tilda.
“This is no invasion,” said a man behind him. He was a middle-aged man that wore a soldier's tunic. It was now torn and tattered. His hair was thick and had been cut close to the skin. It had since grown enough to reveal graying along his temples.
“You were a soldier,” said Nylah.
“I was,” he said in a low voice.
“I'm Nylah. This is Tilda.”
“Douglas Ramsey. I was lieutenant before all of this … at Castle Red,” said Douglas.
“Quiet. You will draw their attention,” another man scolded them.
“We are walking to our deaths anyway … or worse,” responded Douglas.
“You don't think this is an invasion?” asked Nylah.
“No. They are not claiming lands. They had Castle Red, but chose to burn it to the ground. I have been in an invasion and you do not burn castles that you have sacked.”
“If they are not invading then what are they doing?” asked Nylah.
“I believe they will invade. But this … I think they are raiders. They are here only to take things back with them. Back to their lands. They’re taking us … not our lands or castles or gold. They are taking us and scorching all in their wake,” answered Douglas.
“What will be left,” said Nylah, quietly.
“That I do not know. I doubt they care,” replied Douglas.
“There must be more to it than that. You might be right about taking us. I mean, we find ourselves walking north. But there is more to this … this plan. There are other lands than just the four realms. Altaris is small compared to all the lands of Ehlür,” said Tilda.
“Well then, we will have to ask our Maker about this plan because we will sooner see Him than hear it from a gorgon or skin slaver. We will leave this world not knowing any reason for our leaving. This is if we even die … all this talk of the White Ruins and taking of souls,” said Douglas.
“They will not take anyone's soul at the ruins. Stop talking nonsense. You are scaring others with your fireside tales,” Tilda retorted sharply at the soldier.
“Fireside tales, eh. I thought gorgons to be fireside tales. Yet, here we find ourselves,” smiled Douglas.
Nylah turned again to the forest's edge to look for any movement. Nothing.
___________
Finn woke to the smells of warm bread and honeyed tea. He stretched his arms out and felt his back crack and pop. Finn rubbed his eyes. His shoulders and arms were sore from carrying the woman to her home. He realized that he was not wearing any boots. He looked over to see her standing in front of the cupboards. She was splashing butter over bread and tasting the tea to make sure it was sweet enough. She wore different clothes. Her black hair was braided in a long pony tail. The sun shone through the window. It brought out the golden hue to her skin. Flour floated in the rays like tiny fairies.
“I apologize if I woke you,” she said.
“No. It's fine,” Finn replied, as he looked around the cabin.
“You fell asleep in that chair. I tried to wake you. You could have slept in my brother's bed, but you wouldn't stir.”
“I'm sorry. I was very tired, I suppose. This is the first time I have slept inside in days. I guess I took full advantage.”
Finn looked around the cabin. It was small but homely. The walls were made from thick maple trees. There was a large fire pit on one side. Herbs and spices sat atop the mantle, while leaves dried over the fire. The smells of the cabin made Finn heartsick for Margery and the bake house. There were a few books on a table by the chair he sat in. A large deer skin was spread over the straw floor. There were two bedrooms off from the main room. Finn stood and walked over to them. One was obviously for her parents. There was a straw bed with quilts over it and a wooden bureau. The other room had three smaller straw beds, one bureau, and a small wardrobe. One of the straw beds had a white and violet quilt over top and a stuffed doll that was faded and worn.
“Where are your brothers?” asked Finn.
“They left with my father,” said the girl.
“Where did they go?”
“Skin Slavers raided Winthorp … a village near here. They left with the others to help those that were taken.”
“They left you here?”
“My father said it was safer than taking me with them,” she said. Her eyes begin to well with tears.
“I'm sorry. Are you ...are you ok … from yesterday?” Finn asked. He felt strange mentioning it.
“I do not want to speak of it right now,” she said, sheepishly.
“I'm sorry.”
“It's alright. My name is Imeldris.”
“Oh … yes, my name is Finn. It is a pleasure to meet you, Imeldris.”
“I made you some bread. There is tea as well.”
“Thank you.”
The bread was on a large wooden plate. Finn took it and his cup of tea. The bread was soft and sweet. Finn tried to slo
w down but he ate two pieces of bread before he sat at the table. He put the plate of bread and tea in front of him. He could not stop himself from eating.
“I'm sorry. This is so good,” he said, smiling.
“It’s quite all right. I can make more,” said Imeldris.
“What of your mother? Is she somewhere?” asked Finn with a mouth full of bread.
“She died when I was little. It's just me for the moment,” she said. Imeldris smiled at Finn to not make things awkward.
“I'm sorry about your mother.”
“No need to apologize or be sorry.”
“I … I keep saying I'm sorry. It must be strange; it's strange for me. I … I would say I'm sorry for it, but I don't feel I should say that again … at least not for a while,” Finn said with a confused look.
Imeldris grinned and laughed.
“There is a water basin in the bedroom. You should clean up after you are finished. You're quite dirty,” said Imeldris.
“Yes. I would love to wash this dirt off me.”
“You were going to apologize weren't you?” Imeldris smiled.
“Yes. I was,” Finn sighed.
Imledris laughed and began to knead more dough.
“I have eaten all of the bread. Had you already eaten?” asked Finn.
“I did. I am making more now.”
“Then I will wash this dirt off.”
“I took out some of my brother's clothes. You look close to Morris' size. They should fit,” said Imeldris.
“You don't to have do that.”
“You are wearing rags, Finn. Clean yourself and put on those clothes. Go on.”
Finn cleaned himself and put on the clothes. The pants and shirt were slightly long. He had to twist up the sleeve of his wool shirt. He tucked the pants into a pair of worn leather boots. The boots fit perfectly, which was important since he would be doing quite a bit of walking. He slipped on a leather tunic that buttoned in the front. There was also a leather cowl with a woolen lining, an archer's glove and forearm guard for a right handed bowmen. The leather on them was old and faded. They appeared to have been painted green once, but time and wear had begun to chip away at the color. They were not decorative.
“You brother used these for hunting. Are you sure it's ok for me to take them?” Finn said, as he walked back into the main room. His put his hands through his wet hair pushing it back.
“Yes. I am sure he would have given them to you if he were here. There is an extra pair of woolen pants there as well. I also have an extra bow and quiver I can give you. It's not the only one here, so don't feel bad taking it.”
“Thank you, Imeldris.”
“You are welcome. Do you feel better being clean and out of those rags?”
“Yes. In fact, it’s made me quite tired. I guess I didn't realize how tired I was.”
“You can stay if you like. Sleep,” Imeldris said, smiling.
“I would like to but I mustn't. I have to get going. I have a long way to go yet.”
Imeldris looked solemn at Finn's mention of leaving. She walked to the table and sat down. She did not cry, but tears welled in her eyes.
“Please sit, Finn. I … there is something I have to say.”
Finn sat at the table. He put a hand on her shoulder.
“Are you all right? I know you don't want to speak of yesterday, but ...”
“I would like to speak with you about yesterday,” said Imeldris. She looked down at the table while she spoke. She then looked up at Finn. Her soft brown eyes filled with tears. She stared directly at him. Her voice was not quiet or meek, but instead was confident in what she had to say. Her voice was in contrast to her eyes, which showed the sadness of lost innocence.
“I see,” replied Finn.
“I ask that you listen before making a judgment. Those men in the forest. They took me against my will. I didn't want that nor make them, at all, think I did. They accosted me for no reason.”
“Of course.”
“They were filthy rogues that deserved the death that came to them. I now find myself at a strange crossroads of sorts.”
“Imeldris, none of this was your fault.”
“I know that.”
“Well, I suppose I don't understand ...”
“My belly was ripe for a child when they raped me, Finn. They took me and now there is a great chance that I will have a child. I will be a mother to any child that I bring into the world. I will love it, fully and completely. Finn, there is one thing I would ask of you though.”
“What?”
“Lay with me. Let there always be a thought in my head … a chance ... that my child was not born of rape, but by a man that saved me in the forest. Give me this thought,” said Imeldris, as a tear slowly moved over the contours of her check and chin.
“You may not even be with child. You do not know this yet. I might only raise your chances. I …,” Finn broke off into silence.
“It is a lot to ask. I understand. You will never see me again, Finn. You will go your own way. What does it matter? Am I not attractive to you?” asked Imeldris.
“No. You are very pretty, Imeldris. It's just … my heart is not in this. I promised someone that I would help them. She is out there and I am here. I … it would not be right.”
“Your heart is with another. I understand. I am not asking for you to stay. Go to her. I only ask for you to give me the thought … this idea to live with. Let me pass on your story to my child in place of yesterday. Finn, you must believe me, when I say I am with child. Lay with me and then go to her.”
Finn sat in thought. He put his fingers through his hair.
“I understand. You must believe me when I say that part of me wants to do this for you. Another part of me would not be able to look at Nylah without feeling I betrayed her.”
“Her name is Nylah.”
“Yes. I want to do this Imeldris, but I cannot. However, you can still tell your child that I am the father. Tell him or her … my name is Finn and I was falconer at Castle Red. I do not have a surname, but I do have these markings,” said Finn. He unbuttoned his tunic and pulled open his shirt.
“What is that?”
“I have had it as long I can remember. A religious man at the castle once saw it when I had the red fever. He said it was some kind of seal. He said to not show it to anyone.”
“Who gave it to you?”
“Perhaps, my parents … I don't know. Tell this to your child. If for any reason I ever meet him or her, I will claim them as my own. You have my word.”
“What is the difference, Finn? You would claim them, as if we did lay together. Everyone would think we laid together. Your Nylah would think it. Yet, you will not actually do it. What is the difference?”
“The difference is that I will know.”
Imeldris nodded her head. She looked at Finn with teary eyes. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him. She stood and began to unbraid her hair. It cascaded over her shoulders.
“I was attacked and raped. You saved me. I have fed and clothed you. You are welcome to stay as long as you like. I am only asking you one thing before you leave. I do understand your heart is with another and I have respect for your honor. I only ask you one thing before we part ways. We will never see one another again. I only ask … I ask that you give me hope, a small sliver of hope to rest my heart. Allow me to not build the story of my child's father on a rape or a lie. Allow me to truthfully tell my child who their father is … or could be. Give me this one thing, Finn. I know it is a lot but ...”
Imeldris unbuttoned her dress. It fell to the floor. Her dark hair fell past her shoulders in thick waves. Her skin was the color of almonds.
Finn looked at her. There were bruises and swelling around her arms and neck. The corner of her mouth still bore a cut. The rest of her was smooth and soft. He felt both shameful and guilt ridden at once.
“Surely, you would find some pleasure in this,” said Imeldris.
Finn stood.
He continued to look at Imeldris. He stared into her eyes searching for the right answer or the right words. When Finn finally spoke his words seemed incredibly loud, as they filled the silence in the cabin. He made a decision. It was the first one he made as a free man. He prayed that it was the right one.
Chapter 21
A Visitor in the Night
The carcasses of the slain wolves had been gathered together and burned. They were now no more than ash and bones. The alderman laid in a fresh grave beside the tavern. The name Thorson was etched upon a wooden gravestone. The remaining villagers had boarded the parts of the tavern where the wolves had broken in. They used what materials they could find to fortify the tavern until they could leave. It was decided shortly after Thorson's death that they would gather what supplies they could muster and journey as far west as possible. They would not wait for the wolves to return.
Night had fallen over the village. The tavern was full of sleeping bodies. They laid on the straw and blankets. The children laid huddled together in a small lump. Luras slept close to the fire with his back against the wall. His wounds had been well bandaged. They were beginning to heal. Three wooden rain flowers sat beside him. Another partially carved one was still in his hand. Matthias sat in a chair in the corner of the room. He had one foot propped up on another chair in front of him. He was restless and unable to sleep. The wolves would return. He was sure of it.
Matthias stared at the fire. It cast warm and deep hues of red and orange. The last remnants of the flame cracked and threw shadows against the walls and floor. Matthias blinked and looked again at the fire.
What was that?
A shadow flickered from the firelight. However, the shadow was not rooted. It moved. It glided over the wall and cascaded down, blanketing over the sleeping children. The shadow moved like a ghost across the room. It was a shapeless cloud devoid of any light or color, a moving cloak of darkness that floated over sleeping bodies. It continued across the room and slid under the front door of the tavern, like cold breath disappearing into the night air. Matthias jumped to his feet and reached out for his sword. It was leaning against the wall beside him. His hand did not reach the weapon. Matthias was shocked. He was no longer in the tavern at all.
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