by J D Abbas
Dalgo was surprised to see him. “What are you doing back?”
“I forgot my sword,” Silvandir admitted. “Everything was in such an uproar, and I was so worried for Elena, I left here without it.”
“How is she?”
“Sleeping, though I’m not sure for how long. She’s in such turmoil about her family, as well as feeling responsible for Braiden and fearing for Celdorn and Elbrion. She carries far too much for such a young woman.”
“She has lived through much. She’s young in years, but her soul is old.”
“And yet, she’s like a child in many ways too,” Silvandir said. “It’s hard to put in words ... maybe undeveloped.”
Dalgo nodded. “I see your point. It’s as if parts of her were pushed beyond her years and others were never allowed to progress.”
“Yes, exactly. Ah, here it is.” Silvandir’s scabbard was leaning against two stuffed leather satchels. He strapped on his sword and felt his tension ease.
“Do you know where Elena’s dagger is?”
“She had it on her when we first stopped. It may be with the trousers I took off her.” He nodded to the right of the tent flap. “Over there.”
Silvandir saw a dark pant leg and tugged it from under a pile of supplies. “These?” They were small enough, but her belt and sheath weren’t with them.
“Must be; Braiden’s are here.” Dalgo tipped his chin toward the side of Braiden’s pallet.
Silvandir recognized Elena’s saddlebag next to the trousers. Someone had tucked the dagger into the side strap. He fastened her sheath to his own belt.
“Well, I better get back.” He stopped to look at Braiden. “How is he?”
“His body is better, but he’s tormented. I don’t have medicine for the worst of the wounds. We should never have sent him alone ...” Deep regret strangled Dalgo’s voice.
“I agree. He’s too young and lacked the skill; though, I’m not sure how any of us would have fared under those odds. I thought it was a simple assignment. The roads have been safe in this region for decades. We underestimated the evil and persistence of Elena’s enemies yet again,” Silvandir said, shaking his head.
“I should have gone and left him here to tend Elena. That’s where his skills are best used. Look what they did to his hands.” Dalgo had made simple splints for each of Braiden’s fine, long fingers and wrapped them with linen, which was already tinged dark with blood. Between the breaks in the fabric Silvandir saw that the fingers were bruised and swollen to twice their size. It looked as if someone had stomped on them. “Many of the bones are broken. There’s not much I can do but straighten them and hope they heal correctly.”
Silvandir’s stomach turned. He didn’t envy Dalgo his job. “You’re a good man.” He patted the healer on the shoulder. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
~
Silvandir was lost in thought as he climbed the path to the cave. A sudden scream echoed through the rocks, ripping him from his reverie.
Elena!
He dashed through the twisting maze of boulders and nearly collided with Mikaelin at the entrance to the cave.
“What happened?” Silvandir said.
“I don’t know. I just arrived. I thought you were with her.”
Silvandir ducked and entered the cave with Mikaelin right behind him. Elena was alone, sitting up on her mat and glancing frantically around her.
Silvandir ran to her. “What is it?”
“Where’s Braiden?” Elena’s eyes were wide and crazed as she scanned the cave. “Where is he?”
“He’s down in the camp with Dalgo,” Silvandir replied, puzzled. “What’s wrong?”
“They’re coming for him. They’re going to kill him. We have to protect him.”
“Shhh.” Silvandir put his arms around her. “It was just a dream. No one’s going to kill him.”
She pushed him back. “No, it wasn’t just a dream, Silvandir. They’re coming.” Her hands gripped his arms and shook him.
“Elena, we would know. Celdorn and Elbrion are watching the road. Haldor’s patrolling the camp. They’ll know. They’ll protect him.”
“No, Silvandir.” Her jaw set and her eyes went steely. “They’re coming a secret way. He’ll be trapped.” She must have read the doubt on his face. “I heard them say so in my dreams. Now that he’s delivered their message, they want to finish what they started.” Her eyes went distant, and her face paled with horror. “They’re going to rape him again ... until ... until he’s dead.” The last word screeched out.
“Elena ...”
“There’s no time. Trust me.” She grabbed his face then frowned. “Doubt me if you will, but bring him here anyway. What harm can it do?”
“It will hurt him to be moved.”
“Better to hurt him than leave him to be easy prey.” She looked at Mikaelin. “Will you get him? Please.” He glanced at Silvandir, uncertain. “Hurry. They’re very near,” she insisted.
Finally, Silvandir nodded to Mikaelin, but he just stared back, not moving.
“You don’t ... I can’t carry him,” Mikaelin said, turning as pale as Elena. “If I touch him, I-I don’t know what will happen. You have to go. I’ll wait here with Elena.”
Silvandir closed his eyes, feeling sick. He hadn’t even considered what it would do to Mikaelin. Chiding himself, he jumped up and hurried out of the cave. He sped through the rock maze and down the path to the camp.
It was dark now. Dalgo’s silhouette was clearly visible against the fabric of the tent, an easy target. The hair on the back of Silvandir’s neck rose, and he picked up his pace.
Bursting into the tent, he said, “Dalgo, we need to move Braiden to the cave. I’ll carry him. You grab your healer’s bag.” Silvandir sucked in air as he wrapped the blanket around Braiden and lifted him. The healer gawked at him. “Now, Dalgo! We need to move.”
Without waiting for Dalgo’s response, he headed out of the tent. “Make sure the lantern is out when you leave,” he called behind him.
As Silvandir drew near to the rocks, Haldor met him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m moving Braiden to the cave.”
“Why?”
“I’ll explain later.”
“Explain now. This is not what Celdorn ordered.”
“Elena feels the enemy approaching, searching for Braiden. She says they’re near, and he’s unsafe in the tent.”
“She feels it?” Haldor repeated. “Silvandir, she is overwhelmed. It is her own fear she is feeling. Celdorn and Elbrion are both watching the roads, and I have been patrolling the perimeter of the camp. There is no one near. We would know.”
“I understand your doubt, Haldor. I resisted her at first as well. She had a dream. When she awoke, the feeling was even stronger. We don’t want to risk Braiden’s life if she is right yet again. Please, Haldor, I don’t want to debate with you now. He’s heavy. And we need to move.”
Haldor gave a stiff nod. “I will lead the way.”
Silvandir glanced back and saw the light go out in the tent. Dalgo was soon behind them. They wound their way through the rocks. Haldor stopped to help Silvandir through some of the narrower spots. When they reached the cave entrance, they had to stand Braiden nearly upright to pass him through the opening.
Inside, they found Mikaelin had prepared a place for Braiden near Elena. As soon as the men appeared, Mikaelin retreated into the shadows. Silvandir laid Braiden on the pallet and covered him with a blanket. His body was shivering, but he had remained asleep.
When Elena saw them enter, her body relaxed, though she told him the sense of foreboding had grown stronger. After Braiden was settled, Mikaelin, Haldor, and Silvandir went outside to watch the camp, swords in hand, leaving Dalgo to guard.
Before he left, Silvandir laid Elena’s dagger next to her. “Keep it near you at all times.”
~
Elena watched as Dalgo unpacked and set up his supplies. Then the healer checked Braiden’s bandages to m
ake certain nothing dislodged in the move, and seemed satisfied. He eyed her. “How are you?”
“Frightened. I can feel the evil approaching, but it’s like being lost in a fog. I can’t tell from which direction it comes.”
“You’re safe in here, Elena, and now Braiden is as well. Try to rest.” He stepped around Braiden and knelt next to her. “Let’s take a look at your wounds, since I’m here.”
Elena unbuttoned her shirt. She rolled onto her back so she could pull the front of the shirt open to reveal the bandage on her shoulder. Dalgo pulled the dressing away from the skin.
“This one is looking much better.” He waited while she unfastened her belt and trousers. The wound on her right thigh looked less inflamed and was no longer seeping. Then he rolled her onto her stomach so he could see the wound on her hip. “You’ve been moving too much. The bandage is soaked through.” She felt him pull the dressing back and the skin tug. “The stitches look good; nothing’s torn, but the flesh is inflamed.” He went over to his supplies and grabbed a small vile, then sprinkled the powder over the wound.
“Ow! What was that?”
“Brinta. Elrodanar medicine.”
“It feels like fire.”
“It might be. You never know with the Elrodanar.” He laughed. “But it’s a fire that heals.” He covered the wound with a fresh dressing, then stood Elena up so he could wrap the support around her hips.
“I’m growing weary of this,” she said as her pants slid to the ground.
“Then heal quickly,” Dalgo replied with a grin.
Elena smiled. It was probably better to make light of it. Dalgo helped her pull the trousers back in place and let her lace them before laying her down again.
“Have you eaten or drunk anything?”
“Just a little water, my stomach’s too upset.”
“You have to eat, Elena. Your body is working to support another life.” Without waiting for a response, he handed her some bread and cheese. “Eat.”
Elena gave in, though the first few bites felt like they were going to come right back up. She tried to relax and breathe. Dalgo brought some water.
“Thank you. Have you eaten?”
“No, and I don’t need to. I only look like I have another life to feed.” He laughed as he patted his only slightly rounded belly. He was actually in very good shape for his age ... though she wasn’t quite sure what age that might be.
“Dalgo, how old are you?” Then she blushed. “If it’s not too rude to ask.”
He chuckled. “Not rude at all. I’m seventy-six.”
Elena was shocked. “How old do your people live to?”
“The Rogaran generally live to one hundred and eighty or thereabouts, so I would be considered still in my prime.”
“That’s amazing. How do you come to have such a long life?”
“Some say it’s because of intermarriage with the Elrodanar many centuries ago. We didn’t take on their timelessness, but it extended our life span. It’s also rare for a Rogaran to be ill. Something in our bodies protects us. This too must come from the Elrodanar, which is why I mostly treat injury, not disease, and why I trained in Elrodanar healing arts.”
Their conversation was interrupted by moans from Braiden. “D-Dalgo?”
“I’m here, Braiden.” He knelt next to the young man.
“Wh-what am I d-doing here?”
“We moved you to the cave, just to be safe.”
Braiden looked around. When he saw Elena lying next to him, he gave a weak nod.
“Hello, fellow wounded one.” She smiled, in an effort to be cheerful, though her heart fell when she saw the stitches covering his once-beautiful face.
Braiden attempted to return the smile, but a shadow of pain immediately consumed his features. He moaned again. “D-Dalgo, something’s wrong. I f-feel pressure down h-here.” He laid his mutilated hand on his lower abdomen. “Like s-something’s going t-to rupture.”
Elena looked away when Dalgo pulled the blanket back and pushed on Braiden’s belly. One of the spots made him curse and writhe.
“I think you need to relieve yourself, though the swelling is going to make that difficult.”
“The chamber pot they brought for me is over by the wall there.” Elena pointed.
Dalgo helped Braiden up. As he rose, his blanket slid to the ground. Elena rolled to her stomach and turned her face away. They took the pot to the back of the second chamber of the cave. Elena cringed as she heard Braiden groaning then cursing.
“Ahh! D-Dalgo, it all l-looks like blood.”
“Steady, Braiden,” Dalgo said, followed by sounds of movement, scuffling, as if Braiden had fallen. “There you go, my boy, I have you.” Dalgo’s voice was filled with affection. Clearly he had a soft spot for his young apprentice. “See if you can empty that bladder all the way.” There seemed to be some success, and his cries of pain ceased.
Dalgo brought Braiden back to his bed and covered him. “I’m going to get water from the stream to make some cold packs. It’ll help reduce the swelling, which should help ease the pain.” Before he left, he strapped on his sword then he laid one next to Braiden and said, “Just in case.”
~
Once Braiden was back in bed, Elena rolled to her side again. She felt for her dagger.
“S-sorry for my language.”
“You forget who you’re talking to,” Elena said with a light laugh. “Those words were a predominant part of my world and my own vocabulary until four months ago. I’m not offended.”
“Why the w-weapons?” He looked from his sword to her dagger. “Is-is there a d-danger of which I’m unaware?”
“I asked Silvandir to bring you to the cave because I felt the enemy coming closer, searching for you.”
“M-me? Not you?”
“I don’t think they know where I am. I’m not sure why they’re pursuing you, except that by now they’ll know you have survived to deliver your message. But how they know you’re here and not at the keep or hidden somewhere else troubles me.”
“You kn-know this for c-certain?”
“Not for certain, but the sense is very strong, growing ever—”
Elena stopped abruptly. Prickling chills raced through her body.
“Wh-what is it?”
“Shhh! Listen.”
In the distance, voices yelled, then they moved closer, echoing in the rocks.
“Oh no, they found us!”
Chapter 29
“Quick, turn off the lantern,” Elena whispered, panic strangling her throat.
Braiden tried to get up, but he fell sideways with a groan.
“Oh Braiden, I forgot. I’ll get it.” Elena scrambled to her feet, a painful tug in her hip reminding her to be careful, and extinguished the light that was on the far side of Braiden. She fumbled her way back to her bedroll, feeling for Braiden’s legs so she didn’t step on him. Elena found her dagger and pulled it from its sheath.
Shouts and the clang of swords sounded very near, but she knew the echo of the rocks could play strange tricks.
“D-do you know where m-my trousers are?” Braiden whispered.
“They cut them off you. They’re in pieces in the tent.”
“M-my saddlebag?”
“I didn’t see them bring one in.”
He cursed. “Sorry. D-do you have extra trousers w-with you?”
“Yes, somewhere, but Braiden, you can’t go out there. It’s you they’re looking for. Besides, you’re too weak, and ... and you can’t leave me here by myself.” She reached out for him. “Please ... I’m frightened.”
Braiden scooted closer to her. “I-I have no intention of leaving y-you, but if someone c-comes in and I have t-to defend you, I-I would prefer not t-to have everything h-hanging out there.”
Elena laughed in spite of her fear. “Take mine then.” She rolled onto her back, unlaced her trousers and wiggled out of them. “We have shared them before. If you remember, it’s how our relationship started.�
� She kicked off her boots and pushed the pants with her feet, frustrated that it hurt so much to bend. She felt for Braiden’s arm and handed him the trousers.
Braiden huffed and grunted. “It’s hard to d-do this with m-my fingers in splints.” He cursed several times. “El-Elena, can you b-be my hands? I can’t d-do the laces.”
She groped for his hips and tightened the laces, though they fit more snuggly on him than her. She heard him settle onto the pallet with another pain-filled grunt. His breathing was ragged by the time he leaned back against the cave wall.
“Are you all right?”
“It... it hurts t-to sit.” It sounded like he was clenching his teeth. Even in the dark, Elena could well envision the agony on his face, a pain she understood all too well.
She moved closer. Braiden had rolled onto his hip with his back to her. She laid her hand on his shoulder, needing to feel him next to her, finding it hard to breathe.
The fighting moved closer. Men called to each other, none of the voices familiar. Swords clashed. The squish of a blade entering flesh, gasps of pain, and the slurp of its exit followed by a thud repeated over and over until the noise moved away.
The fighting continued at a distance for what seemed like hours when footsteps sounded just outside. The person paused. Hands skittered over the surface of the rocks. Pebbles crunched beneath boots at the mouth of the cave. Elena tensed and clutched her dagger.
Braiden unsheathed the sword, making no more than a wisp of sound, followed by a barely audible gasp. He leaned into her ear and whispered, “El-Elena, I can’t h-hold the sword. Y-you’ll have t-to fight.” He pushed the weapon toward her.
“I can’t, Braiden, that sword is far too big for me, and ...and I’m too frightened.”
“You’re m-more than c-capable. You’ve trained.”
“I’ve trained in the arena, not in a real fight.”
“D-don’t give in to the fear. Y-you must fight for your life and-and mine now. F-focus your strength and y-your anger. D-don’t depend on y-your eyes and ears; use y-your intuitive gift. You c-can do it, Elena. You m-must do it, or we’ll d-die.”