“Petrow! Salgor! I need you down by the stream now!”
The half-elf broke a nail trying to unfasten the buckles of his scarred breastplate in her hurry. Soon, Petrow and Salgor arrived at the stream. The young handyman from Troutbrook looked horrified to see Trestan lying there and shaking. The other two pitched in as soon as they realized what she was doing. As they worked, Lady Shauntay and Mel broke through the trees but stood to the side with worried looks.
When they removed the shirt, it became apparent that Trestan was really warm and had been sweating a lot. The scarred wound was not dry. Fluid leaked from the scarred area, some of it bloody. The skin around it looked red and puffy. Petrow, Salgor, and Cat quietly surveyed the wound.
Cat shook her head, “I was worried the potion wasn’t enough. He was carrying on so well but something has been festering. It may be infected, he may be bleeding inside…I don’t know for sure but he needs a healer.”
Salgor considered the young man and the setting sun. “We shouldn’t try to move him, though time is a concern. Let’s get him comfortable tonight; try to cool his fever. We can rig up a stretcher o’ some kind tomorrow and have the horse pull it along.”
Petrow spoke, “Let’s grab a blanket from the camp and drag him back on top of that. We can grab some pots and fill up with water here.”
The companions moved about to take care of the young man’s needs. Cat leaned over him and held his hand in her own. Her other hand wiped his brow with a wet cloth. When no one was looking, she leaned close to the young man and whispered. “Trestan, you had to be feeling that coming and you were trying to put on a good face. You were trying to lift my spirits and maybe sneak in a kiss weren’t you? Always caring for others, but not saving enough for yourself, until it may be too late.”
Cat kissed Trestan on the forehead. A tear rolled from her cheek to touch his. When she pulled back, she whispered again, “Well, you got your kiss, though not how you wanted it. If you can’t pull through this though…I just wanted…”
Cat faltered, then recovered. “You WILL get through this. Just hang on and think of home.”
* * * * *
The night passed very slowly. They rotated watch over the camp due to any dangers in the untamed areas, and everyone who took watch tended Trestan as he slept fitfully. Katressa stayed awake the first part of the night. Her eyes and ears divided between guarding the camp and checking on the young man. Cat dabbed his forehead with wet washcloths to cool him. During one part of the night, despite his warmth, he shivered and complained of cold. He was wrapped in a thicker blanket, though the half-elf continued to try cooling the smith’s head as he sweated during the night.
With obvious regret, Cat gave up her watch to Mel in the middle of the night. She had already gone past her normal watch time, but didn’t think she could sleep well. Mel took over the duties of sentry. The gnome noticed it was awhile before the half-elf seemed to fall asleep. The Bellringer child smoked his pipe a bit, and sometimes talked quietly to Daerkfyre, his deity. Mel had a one-sided conversation with his god involving the battle on top of the bluff. The gnome asked for a blessing for Trestan, due to the young man’s courage against those odds.
Then Trestan stirred and whispered. Mel Bellringer walked over to the young man and got down close to his face to hear. The gnome grabbed a wet cloth, and wiped at Trestan’s brow as the young man continued.
“Father, how could I? I miss you.”
“What’s that?” Mel whispered, “Why are you talking to your father? He’s not here.”
Trestan looked over at the gnome. Mel saw that the young man fighting a heavy burden just to keep his eyes open. Trestan spoke with a weak voice. “I couldn’t face him that night…slipped out the door in the dark. I knew he would talk me out of it, so I avoided him, but it never gave me the chance to say goodbye. He must be worried, wondering what happened to me. I’ve spent every night looking at the stars at least once and imagining my father waiting for me. I feel so proud of what I have done, but he is the one who bears the burden of our separation. How often since I have left has he stared into my empty room, that empty bed, and wondered what became of his son?”
Mel wiped some tears from Trestan’s face. “You are going to make me feel bad. I’m glad your father loved you, and it’s important you love him. My father sent me off with a bagful of food and the impression I should never return again. I tried going back once, and was turned back by their fears before any glimpse of my childhood home. I miss my home, much as I’m sure you miss yours.”
Trestan looked past the gnome and up to the moons overhead. It occurred to Mel that the young man didn’t need to hear his own sad story. The sorcerer decided to try another angle. “You know what compels me?”
The young smith turned his head to regard the gnome. “Compels you? In what way?”
Mel Bellringer responded, “You know what compels me to go on, day after day, when I’m always homesick for a place I never can go back to?” At Trestan’s headshake, Mel continued. “It’s the notion that whatever path I choose in life, I’ll eventually go back and show my father how far I have come. I’m going to make myself a better person and live life in a special way. When enough time has gone past I’m going to go back home, and by then my own village will have heard tales of my adventures. I will make something of myself that even my father never dreamed! Maybe he still won’t approve, but by then I will have carved my own destiny and became something more than he thought I could.
“You have to look ahead along the same principles. Your father hopes the best for you, and worries about you. Some day you have to walk back to your hometown bearing a mantle of victory. Look forward to the day when you can walk up to your father, and you have grown to become a man in your own right! A parent’s lasting legacy is based on what their children achieve. You have to live for that day when you can return to him as a man that he can be proud to call son.”
Trestan nodded, “I think he would be proud of me. I hope I can go back to him with my head held high.”
Mel rearranged Trestan’s blankets. “Don’t just hope for it. Do it. I have a feeling he’d be very proud of you already. You get some rest. Tomorrow you are going to need it to go home.”
Trestan seemed to drift into a peaceful slumber afterwards. Mel resumed his guard post. The gnome pulled out a handkerchief and started dabbing his own cheeks. He sniffled at memories of his father and his childhood. “Now who is going to cheer me up? Why did he have to get me thinking about home?”
* * * * *
The morning found the camp alive with noise, foremost of which were grunting, cursing and yelling. Axes chopped at wood, and strong arms worked to tie pieces together. Petrow and Salgor worked at making a litter to hitch behind Cat’s horse. They used spare rope and leather from the mercenary camp. Blankets from that camp also served to make a cushion Trestan could rest on. It didn’t look very comfortable, but the group put its collective wisdom together to make it work.
“Why are you untying that? I put a lot of work getting that hitched together,” exclaimed Petrow.
Salgor bellowed, “Well if you had listened to me in the first place, you would have tied it in the right spot to begin with!”
The dwarf tore at the knot with his hands, cursing as he went. “The horse can’t pull it with that crossbar so far up the frame! Its back legs will keep hitting it until the wood or the leg breaks.”
In frustration, Salgor started to pull out his axe in order to fix the knot quicker. Petrow stopped him before he hacked at the litter. “Ok, just let me untie it and you can fix it however you like. We don’t want to smash up the frame fixing it.”
“You know, if you had both followed my advice,” added Mel, “You would have drawn a diagram and planned it on paper beforehand. That’s how the mechanically inclined gnomes do things. They plan a project for much longer than the time it takes to construct it. Obviously your mistake was a product of bad planning, and oversight…”
; Two voices exclaimed, “Shut up, Mel!”
The gnome sulked, walking away to a far portion of the camp. He mumbled complaints as he went. Cat noticed that as Mel talked to himself, he seemed to be imitating Petrow and Salgor in a mocking manner as he carried on some private argument. Cat shook her head, having decided to tend Trestan rather than provide help to the construction of the litter. The handyman and dwarf were each trying to do it their own way, and neither appreciated anyone else’s input. The two weren’t mad at each other over their differing views, but they seemed to be working in opposite directions with their ideas. The litter slowly took form, though in a way that neither one had foreseen.
Lady Shauntay stayed quiet and aloof that morning. The noblewoman often glanced at Trestan’s unconscious form. Cat tried to read her eyes, and the half-elf was willing to bet that any concern the lady felt for Trestan was based on her own selfish needs. The young smith had been the only one who had gone out of his way for her. Now the person she had most depended on to satisfy her needs was unable to help at all. The few times the noble had tried to ask anyone for anything that morning, they had barked an answer that assured her she had to provide for herself. The noble’s daughter was indeed glad to be free of her previous captors, but if she expected royal treatment from her rescuers she was mistaken.
Petrow and Salgor took turns cursing as the makeshift litter took shape. Cat finally spoke up to brighten their spirits, “I think it’s coming along just fine. We just need something to carry him to town as quickly as possible, not a master work of art. You’ve been working since before sunrise and it looks about ready.”
Petrow and Salgor looked at each other as well as the half-elf. Petrow continued retying the crossbar lower on the litter. “I…umm, I mean we are just trying to get it as best we can to carry him over this uneven terrain. Hopefully the blankets we have should help cushion him as we go.”
Salgor looked at the young smith, trying to judge the man’s condition. “The woman is right. We need to finish this up and get moving for his sake.”
Petrow also paused to watch Trestan as Salgor returned to work on the frame. He watched the chest rise and fall to assure himself that his friend still breathed. The young handyman would have returned to work, except that his attention shifted to Cat. The half-elf, looking beyond them, jumped as if something startled her, and then ran towards her horse. The young man looked behind him, but could see nothing out of the ordinary. Only meadowlands, as well as sparse trees and hills, colored the landscape. Yet Petrow could have sworn Cat had been looking that way when she jumped up. When he turned back to regard the half-elf, she was taking her crossbow off of her horse and loading it. Perhaps he wasn’t mistaken about thinking she had seen something.
“Cat? What did you see?”
The half-elf gave a shrug as she slid a bolt into the crossbow. “Something in the air. It didn’t look natural.”
That statement alarmed the camp and got immediate reactions. Petrow returned his eyes to the sky as Salgor also stopped to get a good grip on his axe. Mel pulled out his wand and looked for anything odd. Lady Shauntay decided that ducking behind a fallen tree was the better part of valor. The camp went strangely quiet as eyes swept the horizon. They scanned over the wilderness, focusing on wind-blown branches and small birds that flew nearby. Only the lonesome whistle of the wind was heard among their listening ears.
Finally, Cat spotted something low to the horizon. It came out from behind a small stand of trees in the distance, and was flying towards them. She called it out and the rest gawked at it. It was unlike anything they had ever seen.
CHAPTER 15
The shape that flew through the air towards the companions did not have a natural look about it. There was something about the front of it like the silhouette of a large bird, but in general it did not look or move like a real bird. It was immediately apparent that this was no animal of any variety flying towards them. Although the object was wider than it was tall, it did not appear to be flapping wings to keep its flight. The companions stayed tense and ready for anything. They crouched for cover where it could be found with weapons readied in their hands. The flying spectacle did not appear to be heading straight towards them, though it would pass close to their position.
As it got closer, finer details could be seen. The object resembled an elaborate balcony, complete with an ornate rail along its perimeter. From side to side it was a circular platform, and not very tall from top to bottom. The front portion of the railing included a figurehead of a dove, carved from wood. The dove design seemed to serve as a decoration, such as the figurehead of a ship. The wings of the dove spread out to help form the leading edge of the guardrail. Just behind the figurehead they could see what appeared to be the head of a man sitting near the front of the device. The platform was slightly larger than a wagon, and one could assume it could carry a few people easily. The companions had to assume that it was magical, for they could see no other reason why it could float so easily up in the air. No flying mounts were seen dragging it along. The craft appeared to be flying under its own power.
The party took in the strange sight with mixed feelings and uncertainty. A flying machine was another chapter out of myth and history. There were once reported to be several flying ships of old that battled during the Godswars, but if any existed today they would be a rare find. Petrow, Mel and Salgor almost stared with open mouths at the wonder of seeing it.
Cat called out to the vessel, calling attention to where the party waited. Her shrill, desperate voice pierced the quiet of the camp. Although they had likely been spotted anyway, the rest of the party hoped the magical craft would pass by peacefully. The half-elf scared her companions by actually trying to hail it.
“Help us! Please stop and lend a hand!”
Salgor turned around and tried to shush the woman, but the vessel was already changing course to get closer to them. A low, humming noise came from some crystals mounted on the bottom of the flying platform. The craft swooped lower, though it did not appear to act in any overly aggressive manner. The helmsman peeked over the edge of the guardrails to survey the scene below. The individual appeared humanoid: a peacock feather sticking out of a plush hat, and long blonde hair flowing in the wind. As he floated above them, the party looked at Cat and each other for any ideas.
Salgor scolded, “Why did you call its attention to us? Tis probably a spell caster, and not to be trusted.”
Cat replied, “Because it is just one man, and Trestan needs help. He needs to get to a town for healing as soon as possible.”
The figure on board the flying vessel called down to them, “Why should I trust landing among a band of unknown people, all of whom seem well-armed?”
Katressa Bilil responded, while Petrow and Mel took up positions on either side of Trestan. “Forgive us our arms, but we are in a rather uncivilized area. As you pointed out, caution is the rule out here. We are in need of assistance if you can provide it. We were returning a lost noble to her home, but one of our friends was severely wounded.”
The half-elf pointed out the litter and Trestan’s sleeping form. “We seek any curative powers you command, or any healing draughts that you might have on you.”
The stranger, of whom they could make out elvish traits, yelled back from his high perch, “I shall land then, and offer what I may. Please keep a respectable distance until I approach. Keep your weapons relaxed and I shall see to your friend.”
Cat nodded, and the rest of the group put away their weapons. The helmsman of the flying vessel floated easily away from them a short distance. The craft came down lightly on an even patch of ground nearby. The companions exchanged a few whispered words; with Cat assuring them they needed help for Trestan’s sake. Cautiously, the sole occupant of the strange contraption approached.
The stranger looked to be of pure elvish descent. His style of dress reflected some manner of wealth. Cat would have pinned the elf’s fashions as originating from the Kingdom of Gheras
, possibly the city of Orlaun. The multiple layers of his outfit were very much a style from that land. A puffed-sleeve shirt emerged from under a long-tailed overcoat. Many elegant trimmings and jeweled buttons adorned his attire, further advertising his expensive tastes. Flowing elvish embroidery accentuated many pockets. A short cape hung upon his shoulders, though the wind had ruffled it a bit. Inexplicably, the same wind proved unable to shift his plush, feather-adorned hat. The elf strode towards them wearing high-topped boots, ending in a folded over rim. He carried a staff as he walked, a short sword belted at his side.
The party decided to let Cat do the talking, trusting in her charms and elvish blood. Salgor was noticeably tense about the whole meeting, not trusting this stranger amongst them. Cat noticed several details about the elf once they stood close. Touches of silver, due to age, streaked his blonde hair. It would be an error to say there were any wrinkles, yet the years of passing had etched strong lines into the face. This was the first elf Mel or Petrow had seen with facial hair: a rough stubble forming a beard. While humans began to grow facial hair during puberty, elves did not tend to grow any until well into their middle years. Even then most of the fair folk shaved or disguised it, or outright used magic to remove it, but this elf wore it openly to display his age and demand respect.
Introductions were made, and the elf identified himself as Korrelothar Balshav. He added a nickname, “The Highwater Conjuror”. When speaking the title he looked around as if someone might recognize and be impressed. The rest of the companions mostly looked at each other in confusion, though Cat furrowed her brow at the mention of the Highwater district of Orlaun. The elf loosed a sigh that no one recognized or was impressed by his title.
Cat introduced their party, and as she indicated people the half-elf pointed out the spot where the young noble hid. With a frown, the blushing girl stood with as much dignity as she could muster from behind the cover of the tree. Korrelothar seemed to take special notice of her, and Cat thought she saw him tense his grip on the staff. The elf spoke, “I have heard her name mentioned in Barkan’s Crossing. How is it that she comes to be traveling with you?”
The Earthrin Stones 1 of 3: Inheritance of a Sword and a Path Page 31