Bloodletting Part 2

by Peter J. Wacks

  She set up the device and had a pot of water heating in less than two minutes. Tetra wished he and Kellian had known about such a source of odorless and lightless heat.

  “Chop those smaller,” Sibyl told Pavil. He’d unrolled a strip of leather atop a downed tree and used a small knife to slice up an array of vegetables.

  “These are small.”

  “No, you’re doing it wrong.” She moved to take the knife from him, but he made a game of keeping it just out of her reach.

  Malec smirked at her growing frustration, while Tetra tried to understand the relationship between the three. A lot had obviously happened with his friends that he still didn’t get. They sat on several logs around a small circle of dirt which Sibyl had cleared of combustible debris.

  “You worry about the bird,” Pavil said as he warded her off. “I’ll handle the vegetables. It’s nice to not be handling guts for once.”

  Sibyl’s lips thinned, but she went back to fishing bones out of the boiling water and pulling the meat free.

  Tetra’s heart felt light in his chest. Malec was here, with Pavil. He sensed Halli coming closer. While he’d first kept his hopes at bay, he now detected the change for sure. She moved toward him. Maybe she could feel his nearness as well and used it as a beacon, working together. He always fought, always hoped, but for the first time he truly believed that he would be reunited with his sister and their friends.

  “So what happened after that?” Malec asked him.

  “Huh? Oh. Sorry … got lost in thought.” Tetra resumed his story about the attack on Drayston. “I did what I was told to do. I went to cover.”

  “Not exactly,” Kellian said. “He’s forgetting the part where he and a guardsman brought down an oroc, and then he killed another by himself while helping that same wounded guardsman to the infirmary. He saved the life of Lord Drayston’s nephew, in fact.”

  All eyes fixed on Tetra, and he flushed under the attention. He didn’t care if his friends looked at him, but wished they wouldn’t do so with such expressions of awe.

  “He only got hurt because he came to help me,” Tetra shrugged off the wonder of his friends, uncomfortable with the attention.

  “You killed two orocs?” Pavil asked, eyes wide.

  “Three,” Kellian counted off on his fingers. “He killed another while trying to chase you down after the attack on Jaegen. Almost killed himself, too.”

  “You came after us?” Malec asked. “I thought you said an oroc impaled you.”

  “One did,” Kellian answered for Tetra. He seemed proud.

  Sibyl studied them both closely as the group fell silent. Pavil took up the cutting leather and dumped the chopped vegetables into the pot. They continued trading stories as they waited for the soup to finish cooking. Sibyl kept fishing bones out as she listened. Malec’s recounting of his and Pavil’s escape from the oroc camp brought a round of laughter from them all, as did the tale of their first rocboar hunt.

  Sibyl stood and peered into the forest around them.

  “What is it?” Kellian asked.

  “We’re surrounded,” she said. Kellian and Tetra reached for their weapons. “Don’t. He’ll just kill us all.”

  “I think he will anyway,” Pavil said.

  Kellian bristled. “I am a corporal in the king’s army. I doubt that your band can take us, ma’am.”

  “Then you are a fool. A young fool. They may look like outlaws, but they fight like devils. Cunning ones, too.” She scanned the darkness.

  “I know you’re there, Riktos,” Sibyl shouted into the gloom. “You’re wasting your time hiding from me, and you know it.” She kicked a pile of the debris she’d cleared away earlier into the burner. It flared, illuminating the nearer trees and the men standing among them.

  Riktos laughed as he emerged into the firelight. A handful of others moved closer as well.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t think we’d come back,” he said with a self-satisfied smile.

  Sibyl put a fist on her hip. “I’m surprised you were brave enough to move in the darkness, yes, but I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to face us again when we have Drayston soldiers with us now.”

  Kellian shot her a concerned look, but Riktos guffawed.

  “Drayston soldiers? What, the boy and the one in the fancy armor?” He sauntered closer. “I’ve no business with them. What do they care what happens to you three? I’ll gladly let them be if they don’t interfere. But … I really hope they interfere, Sibyl.”

  “Don’t come any closer,” Kellian put a hand on his sword hilt, ready to draw it.

  Riktos paused, studying the corporal.

  “I’ve already instructed him to start dampening on my command, Riktos,” Sibyl said. “And Malec is eager for another go.”

  Riktos scrutinized Sibyl and Kellian. His sly grin returned. “That so? I don’t think you’d have let me get a single word out if he were an Archon.”

  A rock shot out of the darkness at Sibyl’s head.

  Tetra waved a hand. Malec caught the signal, remembering their training exercises. Tetra had just shifted the density, making it super light. He snapped his finger. The rock’s magnetic elements strained outwards and the rock powdered, mid-air.

  “Clever. But, no Archon.” Riktos waved for his companions to join him. “But you all are being unkind. My men and I are tired and hungry after a long trek through the woods. We just want to warm our feet and fill our bellies, isn’t that right?”

  His men chorused rowdy agreement.

  Sibyl pointed out at the forest. “You turn around right now and leave, or none of you are making it through this night alive.”

  “Wrong!” Riktos stalked into their small camp, straight for her. Kellian started to draw his sword, but a large stone flew from the darkness and struck him in the stomach, knocking him over the log he’d been sitting on. He shot back up, spraying water from his skin in an arcing motion.

  The water plashed to the ground. Too late he realized that he was being dampened. He sprang forward but another large rock smashed into the back of his head. One of the men jumped from the shadows and clobbered Pavil across the back of the head, sending the boy sprawling.

  Tetra and Malec were powdering flying rocks as fast as they could, but they weren’t catching them all. Tetra pulled his sword and mace, charging the nearest man. He slammed the mace into the man’s stomach, weighting the head as he did, and the man went flying back. He spun around and caught a second Admired across the temple with the flat of his blade. His attacker spun in place and collapsed.

  “Stop!” Sibyl’s voice rang through the clearing. Riktos had grabbed her by the hair. Malec cried out, but Riktos had a blade to her throat before any of them could take a step his way.

  “Right, boys. Put your needles down nice and slow, and maybe I won’t make her bleed all over you.”

  Tetra and Malec did as he said.

  Once Riktos was sure no one would attack him, he let go of her hair and cracked a fist across her face. Sibyl sprawled, limp.

  Pavil whimpered but looked up from where he had fallen, his eyes narrow.

  Riktos spat on the woman. Then he grabbed the pot handle and lifted it, inhaling the aroma. “Smells good, men. What say we celebrate our little triumph tonight?”

  Five other bandits crowded around him. While Tetra could’ve snatched up his weapons and attacked, he doubted his ability to move faster than the Archon, who was keeping one eye on him at all times.

  Riktos gulped several mouthfuls and then passed the pot around the circle. Each man took his share, and then Riktos snatched it back to finish off the last few swallows.

  Motion from one side drew Tetra’s attention to Kellian, who’d eased back into a crouch and drew his sword silently. Tetra stared back at the bandits, perplexed by their fixation on licking the pot clean. What had made six men intent on murder become more concerned with food than—He looked over at Pavil, who was still only halfway up. Pavil had one hand splayed in th
e dirt and had a look of intense concentration. His eyes were closed, like he was meditating.

  Sibyl shifted on the ground, just enough to catch Kellian’s eye and gesture for him not to attack.

  Then Riktos loosed a cry of pain and doubled over, retching violently. He fell to the ground, soon joined by the others, who vomited over themselves as they clutched their stomachs.

  Riktos’ teeth chattered, and he forced words out through the heaves. “What … what—did—you—do?”

  Sibyl rose and gazed down at him, deadpan. “Why, I didn’t do anything. It was harmless little Pavil here who made the terrible mistake of putting a few poisonous mushrooms in the stew. Good thing you came before we decided to eat.”

  Riktos reached for her, hand quaking.

  Pavil stomped over and kicked the hand away. “I made you hungry, too, dung-shoveler.”

  Sibyl crouched down and wrapped her fingers through the dying man’s hair. She roughly jerked his head up till they were staring each other in the eyes. “Not so useless after all, eh, Riktos?”

  ***

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Malthius Reynolds

  Reynolds felt like an old man. On the ride to Mirewatch, the saddle hadn’t been broken in enough. Now he was discovering that he didn’t like the forest. Not one bit. It forced them to travel blind and made his instincts constantly ping as if he were walking into a trap.

  Soldiers should face their enemies across an open field or from the top of a fortification’s defenses or even on the ocean from the decks of opposing ships. In these dense woods, foes could be hiding behind any tree or bush. He didn’t think he was the only one who felt that way either. Faulk—or Alleen, as she insisted on being called—jumped at just about every noise. Everyone knew fighting orocs in their own forest amounted to suicide, and all of their nerves were frayed.

  They’d paid to stable their horses at Mirewatch and marched on from there, knowing the animals would be more hindrance than help once they reached the steppes at the forest’s boundary. Now Andros led the group on foot through the thick foliage. He claimed to use a Psion technique to guide them, but admitted to it being unreliable. A bit chagrined, the large knight had mentioned that possibly it would lead them into danger faster. It brought them where they needed to go, not necessarily by the safest route.

  Reynolds had almost laughed at that. The whole Void-besotted forest was a potential death trap. Vigilance was the only real defense they had. They kept up a brisk march, stopping every few hours for short breaks or to refill their skins and canteens at the many small streams they encountered.

  Bealdred didn’t seem to have any trouble keeping up, despite the Dreadknight armor he wore underneath a large cloak which covered him from shoulders to boots. Leather clasps connected the seam at the front, and the war hammer strapped to his back gave him the appearance of a hunchback. The dark cloak and armor would’ve been too much for anyone but a powerful Graviton to wear while traveling through such difficult terrain. Even encumbered as he was, the man’s movements were quieter than a ghost.

  Not for the first time, Reynolds found himself wondering who this man was. He’d been the castle’s blacksmith since before Reynolds had been assigned there, and for the most part kept to himself. He spoke to lords and captains as though they were equals, and that only when he was feeling polite. If Bealdred had a last name, Reynolds hadn’t heard it. He hoped they survived their current mission, if just so he could put the mystery to rest.

  Of course, their intent to find and rescue the children provided a more immediate set of questions. Even if they did manage to locate them, how would they free them from the orocs? Could they march them all back to human territory? How would they feed them along the way? Lord Drayston had let them go, even his nephew, knowing full well none of them might return. But Bealdred seemed to have utter confidence in their success. Did the blacksmith know something the rest of them didn’t?

  Andros slowed to a stop and the others followed suit. He studied the forest before closing his eyes. The rest of them waited quietly, standing watch while he used his Affinity to reach out and search for the signs of consciousness. Apparently sentient thought and the thought patterns of animals projected vastly different indicators. Animals lacked the logical characteristics common to the seven races. The primal emotions governing their minds fell more into the realm of a Pathos, or even a Geist.

  “There’s a small group not far from here,” he said after a while. “Maybe a day, depending on which way they’re heading.”

  “How many?” Bealdred asked. “Human or oroc?”

  Andros shook his head. “I can’t be sure until we get closer. Half a dozen, maybe fewer.”

  “If they’re orocs,” Oltarian said, “and we get too close, they may be able to sense us as well.”

  “Yes, that’s possible,” Andros said. “But it’s part of the risk we’ve all taken on. Frankly, if it comes to the blade, even with the advantage of the forest, I believe we are strong enough to take half a dozen of the enemy.”

  “What direction?” Alleen asked as they all secured their packs and weapons.

  Andros shrugged and pointed. “That way. So far as direction, I lost my sense of it the first day when the sun and the mountains were obscured from view.”

  “We’ve been descending on a gradual slope since the terraces at the edge of the forest.” Reynolds said. “We at least know that. I’d wager we’re generally heading southeast.”

  “Right you are, Malthius.” Bealdred’s cheeks bunched in a grin as he slid a compass into his belt pouch. “I knew there was a reason we brought you.”

  Reynolds chuckled and held out a hand. “After you, Andros. Lead us to the Void for all I care. Just so long as we keep moving.”

  ***

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Halli Bicks

  On their third day of travel, the band of children reached the great river. They followed it for another day until they came to the waterfall, where they tracked the steep incline searching for a more gradual slope to ascend.

  Laney instructed everyone on what to forage along the way, noting various fruits and roots, while steering them clear from hazardous plants. In this way, they replenished their depleted supplies until they found a way up the cliffs. It took them half a day, but they got back to the river and resumed following it upstream before the evening light weakened too much for them to continue.

  After several more days, even Halli started to recognize the change in the plants around them. The flora shifted, losing its immediate compactness and thinning out to become more like the forest surrounding the Bearoak caves. Beyond this recognition, her spirits also lifted as each day drew them closer to safety and strengthened her sense of Tetra’s nearness. She hadn’t been this sure of her brother’s presence since they had last been in Jaegen together.

  The younger children grew more hopeful as well, though they remained subdued. Everyone was exhausted, but the trek was harder on the smaller kids. Halli, Sven, and Laney forced a steady progress, even though they desperately wanted to let the others rest, especially Kat. Their woken friend tottered along, Sven holding one of her arms to keep her upright. She still took occasional rests on the stretcher but was determined to regain her strength as quickly as possible. Halli ached to see her struggle so much after recovering, but the longer they stayed in the forest, the higher chance they stood of bumping into one of its great beasts or another oroc clan.

  They stopped one afternoon to bathe in the river, taking advantage of a calmer pool. Even Kat joined them, wading in on wobbling legs. The waters refreshed them, and some of the quieter ones talked a little more than usual as they settled in to camp that night. The shared sense of hope nearly brought tears to Halli’s eyes. For the longest time, she’d believed none of them would leave the forest alive. Though she knew if they did, none of them would escape being scarred by the ordeal.

  Throughout each day, she probed the area with her affinity, searching the f
orest for any signs of orocs or wild animals. She hoped to avoid running into another of the Geist panthers, unsure she possessed the strength and focus to react with the necessary calm. But something told her they wouldn’t, that such extraordinary creatures didn’t stray far from the deeper forest.

  They stopped to rest and eat where the sunlight was streaming through the forest canopy. They should be able to cover a few more miles before camping for the night, when they would all huddle for warmth and security, while Sven, Laney, and Halli took turns watching. She sat with Kat and Laney, sharing dried meat and a few fresh vegetables. Sven helped the younger kids fashion walking sticks from the limbs of a downed tree. Laney smiled over at him in quiet adoration. The younger children clustered to watch as he stripped away the leaves and branches.

  “How did you survive cut off from each other for so long?” Kat asked. She sat back against a tree as she ate.

  “Halli took care of us,” Laney said. “She even learned the oroc language.”

  “Rocmirian,” Halli interjected.

  Kat’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

  Halli smiled softly. “It kept me from going mad with boredom, at least.”

  Children scampered past, looking for fallen limbs they could turn into their own walking sticks.

  “I hope Pavil and Malec are alright,” Kat said, nibbling at fresh strawberries. They hadn’t spoken of the two boys beyond telling her they’d escaped. None of them wanted to voice any fears about their fate, as if saying such might make it true. It was easiest to not talk about those whose fates they didn’t know, and those they had lost. Better to focus on here and now.

  “Yeah.” It was enough to shake Halli. She wiped her hands off and stood. “I’m gonna walk around, check out the area. Maybe see if I can spot a good game trail to follow or something.”