Back at camp, Drako found most had followed Jim’s example and turned in. Drako wondered if Jim knew that the whole crew had gathered closely around him. Judging by the awkward spaces some slept in he realised many had chosen perceived safety, through proximity to the powerful wizard, over physical comfort. Drako couldn’t really blame anyone for feeling a little exposed out here in the forest far from any aid. He simply rolled out his pad to join them and was quickly asleep.
***
Next morning, after a hasty breakfast, they were underway just after dawn broke. With rested horses and a dry road, they were able to keep the pace brisk and made good time.
Unexpectedly, about an hour later, Freddie came rushing back and his expression had Drako immediately hold up his hand in the gesture to halt.
‘What is it?’ Drako asked.
‘We found someone. He’s dead,’ Freddie announced shortly. ‘He’s at the edge of the farm clearing. I think he was one of their sentries. He’s still warm.’
While Drako gave brisk decisive orders, Jim dismounted and ran with Freddie to see the sentry for himself. Definitely murdered and very recently. Jim growled, striding forward to search for any sign of the culprits. Far across the large open intervening field his augmented sight could see figures darting between the buildings.
‘Bandits are attacking them! Worthless, cowardly scum,’ Jim said, his voice dropping into a gravelly growl. Seeing a man fall galvanised him. Jim ran out of cover, and loosed a long bellow of rage, not realising he’d transformed into his lion. As one, those across the field looked up.
‘Shit,’ Drako said with a wince, removing his hands from his ears after that painfully loud roar. He watched Jim’s lion take off at high speed, on a direct line for the thickest fighting. ‘Well that’s one way to attract attention. Come on! He’s leaving us behind.’
‘Stay behind the lion,’ Freddie shouted to the men following, unsheathing their weapons as they ran. He lowered his head, pushing faster. Jack’s leopard bounded past him, striving to catch up with the swift lion. The one thing about felines, he grumbled, was that they really could sprint. Not that his wolf was a slouch, but still, he was trailing them. Whilst it was tempting to go into battle in his wolf form, that meant only close quarter killing was possible and that put him well within a sword’s reach. He’d done that once before when his wolf had taken over and barely made it out alive. He’d certainly been sliced up plenty in that battle and vowed to himself to never do it again.
‘Freddie! Take the roof,’ Drako shouted from behind, not able to match the felines or wolf’s pace.
Freddie immediately understood the sense in the order and angled aside. He leapt for the eaves of a low building, grabbing hold, swinging and clambering up with best speed rather than stealth. Up, he ran along the sagging rooftop, hoping it would hold his weight, until he could see the battle. The bandits they faced had a few archers too. Taking them out was his priority.
He strung his bow without looking, his hands familiar with the task and his attention on determining the priority of immediate threats. He scanned the battlefield, glad of his vantage point above them for a clear view of what precisely they faced. He was utterly relieved that the numbers of bandits he could see were a fraction of the countless number they’d faced on their last encounter. He guessed there to be upwards of thirty though, which substantially outnumbered both crews together. They however, didn’t have Jim.
He took a moment to assess problem areas about to be overrun, just as Jim ploughed into the midst of the heaviest fighting. Damn, that lion was one terrifying beast, snapping and clawing a path through. Men locked in combat were simply separated, the raggedly dressed bandits plucked away and rent by huge clawed paws. Squeals of terror, in the face of the lion’s ferocious attack, proved just as good a distraction for the beleaguered crew as his initial roar. Freddie’s eyes narrowed, realising something else was going on that wasn’t Jim. Ah, Jack’s slightly smaller leopard was directly behind the lion, protecting his back, and dealing similar lightning fast bloody justice. Good, they’d protect each other.
Freddie turned his attention to aiding vulnerable members of the crew. A cluster of unarmed builders tucked behind a blood streaked uniformed patroller, who was fighting desperately hard, caught his eye. Freddie let his arrows fly, thinning their adversaries markedly until the remainder broke off and ran out of range. Satisfied the builders now had a chance to break out of the corner they’d found themselves pushed into, he turned automatically to check on his lord and friend Drako.
Damn. There were archers aiming in Drako’s direction; they had to be dealt with. Fortunately they were mostly out of range of Drako where he currently was, but if they got any closer he could be hit. Drako was an experienced swordsman and his blade was cutting a swathe around him, it was just the sheer quantity of sword fodder that was the concern. No one could counter every blow when faced with several adversaries simultaneously. Fortunately, another of their crew was helping Drako’s defence on one side. Although his swordsmanship was poor he was covering a flank.
Freddie’s grim smile noted another adversary fall as his arrows found their target. However, those enemy archers had not been entirely incompetent. He saw one of their own men fall. His crew had not come out of the initial attack unscathed. He tamped down his fury, funnelling it into concentrating on taking out each target with the least ammunition. The number of arrows in his quiver was limited, he needed to be accurate. His wolf within, responding to his anger, wanted out to protect him, and it took an effort to keep it under control. The wolf wanted to rend and tear those who would attack those under his protection. He had no intention of playing nice; he aimed each shot to kill. Considering Jim’s initial words and the lion’s own deadly fury, he would not judge him for it.
Freddie looked around and abruptly realised there were no more targets to focus on. No more adversaries, or knots of fighting men, could be seen. The remaining bandits were running for the trees. It was over. He didn’t drop his guard yet though.
He watched Jim slowly turn and guessed he was doing some kind of check. When the lion waved directly at him on the roof, Freddie decided it must be safe to come down. Jim must have checked there was no one in hiding about to spring out to ambush him and that assurance was a real relief.
‘Will he live?’ Freddie asked Drako quietly as they watched Jim, now back in his human form, kneeling beside and checking over one of their builder volunteers. Whilst he’d tried to keep his voice quiet Jim glanced up at him with narrowed lion gold eyes.
‘I’ll make sure he damn well lives,’ Jim growled and placed his hands flat on the gashed chest before him and closed his eyes.
Freddie knew that tone and recognising Jim’s determination stepped back. After a battle there were many grim things to be done and with everyone else still numb with shock, Freddie just got on with it.
Moving to the edge of the crowd, he looked back across the field and saw their wagon-masters still waiting where they’d left them. He waved at them and beckoned. Watching just long enough to see the figures disappear, presumably to get the horses moving, Freddie turned his attention to the rest of the battleground.
Drako had already arranged for the wounded to be brought together for aid and protection. The man Jim was already working on was in critical condition. Their men already being cared for, a far less palatable chore remained. Freddie now surveyed the dead. Whilst the majority of their crews were riveted watching Jim, he took the opportunity to move amongst the fallen bandits. His sensitive hearing could pick up the laboured breaths of those amongst them that weren’t yet dead. His sword corrected that oversight, dealing justice and simplicity to the matter as quickly as possible.
‘You are the archer on the roof?’ a voice asked.
‘You’re the patroller defending a bunch of unarmed builders,’ Freddie responded turning and recognising the bloody tunic uniform more than the face of the man.
‘Yes, I suppose I was. Thanks f
or thinning them out for us. It was getting a bit dicey.’
‘I noticed. Sorry we weren’t here earlier. Those wagons are far slower than we anticipated.’
‘It had really only just begun when the lion roared. Er, who is the lion and where did he go?’
‘He can be scary like that can’t he,’ Freddie agreed easily. ‘Have no fear though. He’s not at all mean, even in lion form, just protective. That’s Wizard Jim, the head master of White Haven. This is his second run-in with these bandits, well mine as well since I was with him then too. Needless to say he’s pissed off they were trying to kill you, not just steal from us again.’
‘Ah,’ the patroller gulped, his gaze fixing on the blond well-built young man still kneeling on the ground. He’d heard all manner of rumours surrounding the powerful wizard newcomer and none had even whispered that the wizard could be a damn lion. Did no one else know? That animal certainly brought an additional toothy dimension to the wizard’s already formidable reputation. Whilst he knew this was a joint project between his Lord Aubrey and White Haven, he’d never considered the wizard would ride out here personally to see the site for himself. Clearly this was a hands-on leader, quite unlike most wizards he’d ever heard of. Maybe that was why Lord Aubrey had been prepared to build an alliance with him. ‘What’s he doing?’
‘Healing one of our wounded. You should go and get yourself checked out. That’s a lot of blood on you and since your jerkin is torn in some of the same places I’d guess you’ve got some serious wounds. I’m Freddie. What’s your name?’
‘I’m Ruskin,’ he admitted and watched the archer scan another bunch of bodies. Freddie’s sword tip flicked across a mangled bandit’s throat and Ruskin was close enough to hear the gurgling groan as he ended the bandit’s suffering. This was merciful killing, quick and clean and he could respect that necessity. Whoever Freddie was, he was clearly a practical and efficient warrior.
Freddie knew Ruskin was watching him, but since he was not making any noises of dismay or censure, he continued. Only once he’d ascertained that every bandit on the field was dead and therefore no possible threat, did he return to Ruskin realising the man hadn’t moved. ‘Come on, I’ll take you over. You can lean on me, if you need to.’
Ruskin glanced at Freddie in surprise, then took him at his word. The idea of walking unaided, all the way over to the others, was daunting. It was taking all his determination not to collapse where he stood. ‘Thanks.’
Freddie wrapped an arm about Ruskin’s waist and as he moved forward he felt the man lurch. Damn he was worse than he’d suspected. He was probably badly hurt and dangerously weak from loss of blood.
Jim was working on another patient when he approached, but to his surprise Jim’s head immediately jerked up to inspect him and then the man he was half carrying. Jim muttered something then rose to his feet leaving his mildly injured patient and heading for Freddie.
‘Who have you got there?’ Jim asked and frowned noticing that under all that smeared blood and torn cloth was a Patroller uniform.
‘This is Sergeant Ruskin. I don’t think anyone realised how bad he’s hurt because he’s stayed on his feet,’ Freddie said quickly.
‘I didn’t tell you I was a Sergeant,’ Ruskin murmured weakly.
‘I know what that insignia on your shoulder means,’ Freddie explained absently while Jim was scanning him. ‘He was single-handedly defending four unarmed builders from dozens of bandits,’ Freddie projected mentally or rather he thought loudly and since Jim’s gaze flicked immediately to meet his, knew his message had been heard.
Jim had indeed heard Freddie. He watched a swift re-run of the scene, as Freddie had seen it from his rooftop vantage, before he began firing to clear the crowd of adversaries. Freddie’s approval was clear and echoed Jim’s own thoughts of the man, having now seen what Freddie had. ‘Sit him down here.’
Freddie helped him down and steadied him before stepping back. ‘Have you eaten anything, Jim?’
‘What?’
‘I’ll take that as a no,’ Freddie decided and hurried off to the wagon that had now reached the field. Animus understood the importance of keeping food handy, since shifting used magic, and to use magic required plenty of fuel. An animus could weaken quickly without food, and so too could a wizard, for the same reason. He’d seen Jim collapse before and knew staving that off was simple enough but only if caught in time. As he’d expected, he found a number of readily edible items in the wagon, including a large fruit cake which seemed to be a wizard favourite staple. He brought the tub over, since most of the crew who’d fought had some kind of injury. ‘Before you start, eat this,’ Freddie ordered and held out a large wedge of cake in front of Jim’s face.
Jim’s nose twitched and his eyes blinked at the cake, interrupting his intense focus of the man before him. ‘For me?’
‘Eat, Jim. To do this healing, we need you at full strength,’ Freddie said calmly. He watched as Jim wasted no time in devouring the cake. Moments later his back straightened and the pinched look to his mouth disappeared. Freddie sliced the cake into smaller portions and handed one to anyone remotely bloody. Injuries, large or small, were aided by eating.
‘Thanks Freddie. That was good cake. Ok, let’s get you sorted Sergeant,’ Jim said briskly, realising he had indeed been seriously flagging and not even noticed. Working quickly but thoroughly, he expelled the tiny foreign bodies from all Ruskin’s wounds. Now the risk of infection would be greatly reduced. To his magical eye he could see the crisscross of slashed wounds all over his chest together with the defensive gashes on his arms. Jim absently mused that he never used to be able to see so much detail on a body simultaneously. Previously he’d had to look at each wound separately and concentrate on one at a time to be able to heal it. His new strength enabled a different approach that was very handy indeed.
‘What the hell?’ Ruskin cried out in shock. Weird sensations and burning heat flickered all over his already agonisingly painful wounds. Then a minute later he realised the burn was easing and a cool soothing balm seemed to spread, dousing the flames. He blinked, realising the original appalling pain was fading too.
‘How do you feel?’ Jim asked.
‘Weak. The pain, it’s going,’ he added in amazement. He reached down and lifted his shirt up. He hadn’t dared before. Sealed stripes criss-crossed his body, everywhere he looked, indicating just how extensively cutup he’d been. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’ve lost a lot of blood. To fully regain your strength you will need to rest. Your only activity should be eating and drinking for at least three days, or those wounds will open up again,’ Jim ordered and waited for Ruskin’s agreement.
Turning away, Jim found he had to sit down. The battle and healing sessions had really taken a toll on his strength. Glancing round he was pleased to see a tent had been set up while he’d been busy. He gratefully ate the thick sandwich that Freddie handed to him and watched as the wounded were helped in and settled on sleeping pallets. There they would be able to rest, sheltered and out of any archer’s line of sight. It would have to do for the moment.
Glancing up he was surprised to see that the sun wasn’t high in the sky yet. So much had happened this morning, yet had taken an astonishingly small amount of time. It was sobering just how quickly and easily someone could die. People were so fragile yet risked everything at the orders of another. Why throw their lives away so casually? Why had the bandits attacked? None of the buildings had been repaired or seemed in use and nor were the fields. So what was their reason? Was it just greed at sight of heavily laden wagons? Had their aim been to steal them and re-sell? Why? It was mostly timber that had been brought, and here they stood beside a forest! So many lives had been lost here and for what? He kept his growl under his breath, aware the crews all around him were still upset and twitchy. They did not need to hear or worry about his anger.
‘Start unloading the wagons,’ Jim said to the crowd at large. ‘We’ve a job to do here and the
sooner you have strong intact walls for defence the better. We’ll start with the house.’
Drako nodded agreement with that sentiment and took control of the remaining workers. Whilst all were deeply shaken by the attack, it was better to keep them busy and give them a simple job to do that they understood.
He watched Jim walk away and chivvied the men when they gaped at what Jim was doing. He couldn’t really blame them; it was highly disturbing. Whilst he understood Jim’s objective, magically moving the corpses away from where they needed to work, the method was what unnerved.
A floppy heap of leaking corpses now levitated near the ends of Jim’s fingertips. They eerily followed him as he walked away. The brightly shining sun brought out the lurid red of the blood dripping slowly from his burden. A trail of red now followed Jim, filling the already blood saturated air with the smell of death. Looking away, Drako couldn’t help noticing the macabre dark splashes seemed everywhere he looked in the short grass. The bright light was revealing every place someone had died. Sometimes he really wished he wasn’t a bear with such a highly sensitive sense of smell. The smell of death brought back too many memories he’d rather forget. Glancing up at the cloudless sky he sighed, wishing for a storm to wash the sight and smell away.
Jim’s fingers flicked negligently and the corpses flew and landed on top of another pile with an indescribably disgusting wet sound. Eww.
Drako gave up trying to stop the crews watching, since he couldn’t stop either. Jim’s methodical disposal work, as each corpse littering the field lifted to join the pile, was beyond creepy. Stories would be told of this day, he had no doubt.
‘Tobias, it’s Jim. Link me with Lord Aubrey. It’s urgent,’ Jim demanded mentally. He ignored Tobias’s affront at his tone, impatiently waiting. Tobias must have felt the blackness of his mood however, because without asking, he abruptly let him see through his eyes rather than speak to convey he was obeying. Jim was now a passenger, watching as Tobias jogged down a number of corridors. Knocking and waiting for the voice within, Tobias finally gained permission for entry into the Lord’s presence in his personal chamber.
Forging Alliances: Wizards of White Haven Page 16