by Nathan Roden
He turned around.
And realized that his sense of direction was completely gone.
Simon took a step forward.
“Ben! Ben Blankenship! Call out to us!”
Simon took another step.
“Ben! Ben Blankenship! I have Boone! If you can hear me, call out to us!”
Simon took another step forward. He was beginning to lose hope.
“Ben! Ben Blankenship! I have Boone! Please! If you can—!”
Simon felt hands on his leg.
Hands, that pulled him forward.
They took a step, and then another. And then six more—pulling away from the grip of the invisible desert.
They fell forward—away from the blistering sand, and into the habitable world.
Forty-Seven
Ben and Boone slept fitfully; lying on their backs. Their faces and skin were blistered from the time spent in the swirling sands.
Boone woke first. He pushed himself up onto his left elbow.
His lips met the cool edge of a hollowed stone. The stone held cool water.
Boone drank until the water was gone.
“Wake your brother,” Simon said. “I’ll be right back.”
Ben drank his fill as well.
“What a pitiful rescue force we are,” Ben said. “We almost died.”
“Almost died, does not matter,” Simon said. “It never will.”
Ben pulled himself to his feet, shakily
“Fair enough,” he said. “I’m off to the village, then.”
“No,” Boone said.
He grabbed Ben by the arm.
“You could be recognized.”
Ben snatched his arm away.
“Then so be it!”
“You resemble Mother,” Boone said. “And I look more like Father. That is nothing to be proud of—but it may work to our advantage.”
“She is my child!” Ben said. “My Angel.”
Boone squeezed Ben’s shoulder.
“And she is my niece—who I would very much like to meet. I want to hold her in my arms and spoil her with every gift under the sun. That will never happen if you end up swinging from a rope.”
Boone hugged his brother and trotted off to the north.
Boone walked into the village. He tried to ignore the stares of those who looked at him as if he was from another world.
He walked toward the middle of the market and entered a pub.
“Aye,” the barkeep muttered a low growl of distrust.
“A stranger in these parts, eh?”
Boone nodded.
“You’d better have coin, boy. I have enough trouble getting money out of this lot.”
The man motioned toward the four patrons scattered about the corners of the pub.
Boone took out his coin purse and shook it. That got everyone’s attention.
He took four coppers and laid them on the bar.
“A mug of your best ale—for me and for my newest friends. One for yourself if you like.”
After Boone paid for a second round for the six of them, he seemed to have gained a measure of good will.
“What is your business here in Roball, friend?” the
“Roball?” Boone said. “That was not the name of this village the last time I passed through.”
The barkeep laughed.
“Of course not! The last mayor couldn’t keep his hands off of other men’s women. He had a little…accident, if you know what I mean.”
The barkeep drew his thumb across his neck. He and the other four men had a laugh at this.
“I’m looking for a man and a woman,” Boone said. “Older folks—traveling with a baby girl.”
“And why would you be looking for them?” the barkeep asked.
The others in the pub cast glances at each other.
“My brother,” Boone said. “He had a wife, and a baby. His wife died from the fever. He died not long after that. When I learned of these things, I came to look for my niece—but I learned that the child’s grandparents took her and moved south.”
“So, where were you all this time?” the barkeep asked.
“I’ve been in the north for the last several years. I am a hunter and trapper, by trade.”
The barkeep slammed his mug down on the bar.
“I don’t know nothing about these people. Thanks for the drink. You best be moving along, stranger.”
“How about the rest of you?” Boone asked. “Have you seen—?”
The barkeep pulled a knife and held it in the direction of Boone’s throat.
“Take your stories and your questions somewhere else. But, I don’t suggest you let the sun set on your backside inside of this village. Folks around here don’t care much for strangers asking questions.”
Boone held up his hands and backed away to the door.
He stepped outside and blew out a breath.
A man and woman walked by. The man did not look at Boone at all. The woman peeked out at him from beneath her hat.
They walked down the road toward the center of the village. Boone followed them. He came upon ten other people who were sitting on benches outside of the shops.
“I am looking for an older couple. They come from a village to the north. They have a baby with them—a little girl. She is my niece. My brother, the child’s father, was killed. I only want to find her—to see her—to let her know that I exist, and that I care for her.”
Only two of the people bothered to glance up at Boone. One of them mumbled something about meddlesome strangers. They all stood and walked away.
Boone stood still, wondering if he would ever accomplish anything in a land where no one ever trusted a stranger. They had risked all to be here, and thus far their time in the Southlands had been nothing but disappointment.
Disappointment, and death.
Boone felt something at his side. Someone tugged at his sleeve. It was the woman in the hat. She pointed to the east.
“You will find them that way—in a small hut at the end of the road. I don’t trust them. I’m not sayin’ they’re up to no good, but I know that baby does not belong to them. They don’t come out together. And they never let the child out of their sight.”
“Thank you,” Boone said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin, but the woman had already hurried away.
The woman hurried to catch up to her husband. The man had not noticed his wife missing until he turned the corner toward their home. His mother-in-law stood in the doorway of his house, wringing her hands. The man turned around, angry that his wife was not at his side.
“Althea! Where have you gotten off to? Your mother is waiting!”
The woman hurried past her husband. She exchanged whispers with her mother and the women walked inside the house.
Althea began to weep. Her shaking hands reached into her little girl’s bed. She picked up the child. The girl’s skin was red, and inflamed, and sticky with fever. She was limp, and lifeless, and too sick to cry.
“Mommy…” was all she said.
Forty-Eight
Boone and Ben waited until near sundown. They crept through the edge of the forest and located the house at the end of the road. When night came, they saw lamplight through the gaps of the front windows.
Boone and Ben pulled a fallen tree toward the back door of the home. Anyone who tried to escape from the back door would have a difficult time of it.
Boone slipped to the side of the front door. He rapped his knuckles on it. Moments later, he heard a man cursing. He had discovered the tree blocking the back door.
Boone knocked again.
“My name is Boone Blankenship. The little girl you have with you is my niece. I only want to see her and know that she is well.”
Boone listened intently. He heard an exchange of whispers. And then he heard a man’s raised voice, followed by a woman’s angry voice.
The door opened slowly.
A man’s head appeared.
“I do
n’t care who—!”
And then he saw that Benjamin Blankenship held a crossbow aimed at his head.
“Why couldn’t you just leave us alone?” the man snapped. “You’re not fit to care for a child! You led ten innocent boys to their death!”
“Because cowardly fools like you choose to stand by and do nothing while our people die,” Ben said. His grip on the crossbow did not waver.
“Fools like me are still alive,” the man said. “Those boys died like cattle—because they listened to you!”
“They died because they believed—”
“They died because they followed an imbecile! A stupid boy from the north who is not one of us—who will never be one of us!”
The man spat on the ground.
“I will burn in hell for allowing you to wed my daughter! But gods as my witness, you will join me there!”
Ben heard the baby’s voice.
“Dada! Dada!”
Ben’s voice caught in his throat. He did not lower the crossbow, but his hands shook.
“Angel…”
The old woman stepped into the doorway, holding the child.
“Hello, baby,” Ben said softly.
“Put down the bow, son.”
The voice came from behind Ben and Boone. They turned around slowly.
Twenty townspeople surrounded them.
“I said, put down the bow,” the man said. “Both of you.”
Neither of them did.
“That is my daughter,” Ben said. “I’ve come to get her—the same way that any of you would.”
“There’s one big difference, Son,” another man said. He also held an arrow pointed at Ben.
“We know these folks. We don’t know you. And we don’t care for what these good people had to say about you, neither.”
“You got a bunch of other kids killed at the border—for no good reason,” another man said.
“No good reason?” Ben chuffed. “My wife died because the king does not honor our treaty. Is that what you call ‘no good reason’?”
The sound of a crying child cut through the night.
“Take that child and go home!” someone shouted.
The woman wrenched herself away from her husband’s arms.
“No! I will not go home! This is wrong!”
The woman pushed her way toward Ben and Boone. She held her daughter in her arms.
“Leave them alone! That child is this man’s daughter! Let him take her far, far away from this cursed place! Don’t let…don’t let her stay here and get sick like..like…my baby…”
The woman collapsed into tears. Her husband stepped quietly to her side.
Ben’s daughter wiggled free from her grandmother’s arms. She ran for her father. It took all of Ben’s resolve to keep from dropping the crossbow. The grandmother snatched up the child. The girl cried and reached out for her father.
Boone took a step forward.
“We only want what is best for everyone. No more of our people have to die.”
“More of your mutiny talk!” the old man said. “You may as well have murdered those boys yourselves!”
“We marched to the border to try to save lives!” Ben said. “Lives like this woman’s precious little girl who burns with fever—the same fever that stole my wife from me!”
Boone held up his pouch.
“I have medicine! From across the great sea, to the shores of Islemar!”
“Empty lies!” the old man cried. “Take them to the stocks!”
A voice sounded that seemed to come from every direction.
“That is not going to happen.”
Forty-Nine
The people heard the booming voice, but did not know where it came from. They looked around. And then, they looked up.
The dragon spread its wings and jumped down from the trees. He landed between Ben and Boone and the townspeople.
The townspeople screamed and turned to run away. Four people fainted; two women and two men. Others tripped and stumbled into each other.
“The beast spoke! Did you hear it? This…this cannot be!”
They stopped in their tracks, and the screams went silent. The only sound was the low growl of the snarling wolf.
Behind the wolf stood Nicolas Lamont and twenty of his men.
“Well,” Lamont said. “Now that our numbers are even, perhaps we might have a civil discussion.”
The old man took the crying baby away from his wife.
“You will never take this child!” he snapped at Ben. “You brought death to our homes—and now you bring this cursed abomination among us! A dragon that speaks? This is a demon from hell!”
Simon raised his head and burned off his fire. The people were frozen in place. In the silence, they heard every word that the dragon spoke.
Simon leaned down toward the old man and woman.
“Hell is a place where a man is hunted down for daring to have a conscience. Hell is a place through which brave souls must march to seek a better life for their loved ones. Let me ask you—where are you from?”
Althea pushed herself to her feet. Her child’s fever had grown even worse. She stepped toward Boone.
“What are you doing?” her husband asked. He grabbed her arms.
“He has medicine.”
Her husband pointed at Simon.
“Althea! These men brought death to their village! They have brought a monster among us who speaks with the tongue of a devil! These people are evil!”
The woman pulled away from her husband. Her eyes blazed as if with madness.
She slapped him.
“Evil?” the woman screamed. “They have medicine that can save our daughter! If this is what you call evil, then I am the devil himself! Get out of my way!”
Boone looked at Helena, who was standing next to Lamont.
“Help me,” he said.
Helena walked to the woman and took the child from her arms. She sat down on the ground. Boone helped her take off the baby’s gown. He rubbed an ointment onto the child’s neck and chest. Boone opened a bottle. Helena sat the child up, and Boone poured some of the liquid into her mouth. She continued to cry and spit up the medicine.
Most people in the crowd whispered among themselves.
“Try again. More,” Helena said.
The baby stopped crying and opened her mouth.
Boone looked at Helena in surprise.
Helena smiled slightly and nodded.
Boone held the bottle to the little girl’s lips. She swallowed.
Ben’s child cried and struggled against her grandmother’s grip.
“Dada! Dada!” she continued to call out.
“Do not let her down!” the old man snapped.
The child thrashed about until the woman could hold on no more. The little girl slipped to the ground, bounced up immediately, and ran to her father.
In that moment, Ben thought of nothing else. He dropped the crossbow and knelt to the ground. He threw his arms around his daughter. His father-in-law ran toward him.
The she-wolf leaped in front of Ben and Angel. She turned and planted her feet. She growled, saliva dripping from her bared fangs. The hair on the back of her neck quivered and stood up.
“You…” the old man said to Ben. “You would take this child with the help of beasts?”
Ben remained on his knees. He kissed his daughter on her forehead, and on both cheeks. He stood and addressed his child’s grandfather.
“I have known of no more dangerous beast than the kind with two legs. I did not burden either of you with tales of the hellish violence that my brother and I lived through.”
“Ben…” Boone said.
Ben shook his head.
“Our father was a monster. He beat us. He beat our mother. I ran away and came here. I met your daughter. I loved her more than life itself. And then our Angel came—I did not know that there could be that much happiness in the entire world.”
Ben wept silently.
/> And then, his face was overtaken with anger.
“She did not have to die. She died—because of the decisions of men! And now, men want me dead because I am not willing to let her death be without meaning!”
Ben glared at his father-in-law.
“When it comes to courage, honor, friendship, and decency….I gladly side with the beasts that stand with me now.”
Ben retrieved his crossbow.
“This is my child. I do not care what you think about that. My true friends understand.”
The old man shook his head.
“This is madness…”
The murmuring grew among the townspeople, who waited and watched as the sick child lay in Helena’s lap. The child’s eyes were closed. Her breathing slowed.
The people drew closer. Many had lost loved ones to the same fever. They lived in fear that they would also watch their families die.
Even…their children.
Ben wept as he held his daughter in his arms.
Boone trembled as he watched his brother. He kept his hand on the sick little girl’s forehead. She was sweating. Boone didn’t know if that was a good sign or bad.
He thought that he felt the fever dying away.
Was it really so? he thought.
Or desperate desires playing tricks on my mind?
Boone thoughts drifted back to his childhood.
To the time when he prayed that the healer’s medicine might help his mother.
Was there magic on the shelves of the healer’s shop? Was there magic in the bottles that the healer’s wife slipped into his mother’s pouch from the shelves of the apothecary?
Was the healer’s magic strong enough to survive the abuse of a wicked man?