Simper grumbled, “We’re soldiers, boy. We only need food, water, and our weapons. One extra set of clothes won’t take much room though, boyo.”
Mordon had to smile at his friend of many years. When it came right down to the bitter truth, he was right. Comfort was something a soldier got only in the barracks while lying on his bunk. They both knew this trip would be anything but comfortable. Mordon hefted the small barrel of ale, and filled the one lasting mug. He offered it to Simper with a wave of his hand, “May be our last ale, Simp. One apiece, and then we’ll fill our packs with the bare necessities.”
CHAPTER 2
The chill early morning wind cut across the untended fields as the warm winds of summer were fading into fall. Mordon and Simper stood at the old junction of the road to Widley, looking at the main road leading north and south. Their full packs sat upon the ground at their sides. They were already sweating with the exertion it had taken getting this far. The ruins of Widley lay behind them. Mordon was reluctant to even turn and give a goodbye look to the only home he ever knew.
Raeah was long gone, and hopefully finding mounts for their transport. Their quick passage to Glouster was dependent on Raeah’s successful return with horses. But the men still had a long trek on foot before they could even expect to see Raeah.
Mordon never doubted Raeah would find mounts. How she obtained them was the least of his present worries. Between the two men, they should be able to ascertain how to live in the wild, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t present itself with some challenges. Mordon had no doubt that Cratty had been honest about the wolves and bear in the forests.
Before Simper and he had left the castle, they had searched the bodies of Scatley and his men for anything they thought they could use. Both had pikes across their shoulders, thanks to their scavenging. They kept a few coins for unforeseen circumstances; maybe bribing someone along the way. Simper had collected a newer sword, and three throwing daggers from as many different men. Mordon had not been able to improve upon the weapons he already possessed, due to his past successful raids.
When Mordon stepped onto the north-south roadway, he was hit with the strangest feeling. If the rest of the island was as empty as Widley, then what would they find in Glouster? It was as if they were starting a journey with no one alive but them. The aspect of Raeah’s return was the only thing steadying his footfalls north. Mordon was completely uncertain as to who, or what, they would meet in their travels. They were as prepared as two men could be, but that didn’t stop them from wondering if they’d chosen wisely among the sparse choices. They looked like two soldiers in battle readiness, trudging forward to an unseen line of fighting: missing were the 500 soldiers marching to their fore and rear.
Simper felt glad to be away from the destruction of Widley. The fresh breeze, unburden with the summer dust of the city streets, was a blessing. Living like the badger, as Mordon had called him, was unpleasant. The tunnels had provided safety and ale, but not much else. He smiled to himself, if he ever came back, he could start a pub with the amount of ale stored under the streets of Widley. He wondered if being a captain in the princess’s service would keep him from owning a pub.
Mordon tried to estimate the distance they might cover today, laden with the full packs and extra weapons they carried. Surprisingly, they had already passed the open fallow fields of tangled grasses. He wished he could turn back time and see farmers tilling the soil. He shook the thought from his mind, and considered what lay ahead.
Darkening clouds approached from the south, blocking the sun. The thought of trying to sleep in the open, beneath the clouds promising rain, made him shudder. He decided they would only walk as far as they could before darkness set upon them. They would have to find, or make, shelter of some sort before they slept. “Simp, let’s make for the top of the hills before nightfall. We need to find someplace we can fortify before we sleep. Do you remember anything along this road?”
Simper scratched his head and frowned before answering, “Last time we were out on this road was five years ago, I can remember a way station on the other side of these hills, but nothing on this side. If we keep walking at this pace, we should reach the station an hour or two after dark.”
Mordon felt uncomfortable about walking around in the coming darkness. Walking among the rubble of Widley was one thing, but being out where he knew no bolt holes was another. He was unwilling to entertain the idea of navigating the black night that was sure to follow if the clouds held. “It must be near mid-afternoon. I do not want to be walking in the dark if we have no moon or starlight. If we make the crest of the hills before that time, I want to have some protection at our backs.” Mordon remembered what Cratty had told them. “Cratty was a sneak, and a fraud, but he was brave and wise enough to survive his trek to Widley. He said if you’re smart enough, you did not have to worry about the animals. I intend we are going to be smart. Setting up a protected place before nightfall sounds prudent to me.”
Simper nodded his head in agreement as he stepped along with the practiced cadence of a soldier. “You’re right. We should ease into this march anyway, or we won’t be able to reach Wycot as planned. Blisters and cramps will shut us down nearly as fast as any sword wound. Maybe we can find a cave where we don’t have to watch all around us.”
Mordon was relieved to hear they agreed. “We’ll stop and prepare before darkness takes away what advantage we may have.”
The last of the fields gave way to the sparse foliage of the lower hills. As they walked up the steeper incline of the roadway, they realized they were seeing more and more smaller animals. Squirrels were plentiful among the tree limbs, and rabbits were scattered among the lower shrubbery of the forest floor. They saw two deer across an open glade next to the roadway.
Simper grunted under his heavy pack, “Looks like we won’t go hungry after all.”
Mordon’s pack was nearly twice what Simper was carrying. With the game, so plentiful, hauling all this weight seemed unnecessary. But what did they have to bring down any of these animals? He did not know how to set a simple snare; had never needed to learn. This lack of experience was the thing that caused him concern about leaving the city. He had to remind himself that Widley was no longer a haven of any sort. No matter how long they remained in Widley, their food would eventually run out, and they would have to learn how to survive in the forests. Now was as good a time as ever, especially since the princess desperately needed their help. Mordon was honest enough to admit their skills were lacking, “Wouldn’t hurt if we ran across someone living out here.”
Simper just grunted and remained silent. After his experience with Drake, or Cratty, he wasn’t sure finding someone out here would be all that helpful. He also wished he was more knowledgeable about this woodland. Soldiering was what he knew. He could fight with any weapon, and knew Mordon was as proficient as he when it came to fighting and weaponry. But surviving out here was something they were just going to have to learn on their own.
The roadway led them in a twisting path towards the summit. There were glimpses of the large valley they had just left occasionally peeping through the mix of oak and pine trees. They were making their way up the last long hill, when Mordon spotted an old hut. The ram-shackled structure was across a meadow, just to the east of the dusty roadway. By the time, they made their way to the weather-streaked building, the sun had commenced setting in the west. There was still enough light to see that the roof looked in good condition. The door was completely gone. The musty insides of the small, one room building was covered in old human feces. Even though there was no odor, they both wrinkled their noses.
Simper pulled his head from the shack from revulsion, “No way in hell am I going to clean out one of their privies so I can sleep on that floor.”
They searched around behind the hut, and found a clean shed attached to the rear of the building. It was barely large enough for Mordon and Simper to s
it side by side against the end wall. No matter how tight the accommodations were, they were glad to be sheltered from the threat of rain. The door for the lean-to was missing. Perhaps the invading armies needed stretchers or planking for their cooking fires.
They took turns removing their packs, and leaning them against the rear wall of the lean to. The ground was at least dry, and the packs afforded them some modicum of comfort for their tired backs. It had been over four years since they had to march with a heavy load on their backs, and they could certainly feel that missing time now. Simper knelt and started to open his pack, his fingers swollen from the walk and lack of use. He flexed his fingers, trying without success to regain their flexibility.
Mordon reached out and pulled the pack towards him, “Relax a bit before you try using your hands. Mine aren’t so swollen.” Mordon pulled free the straps, and drew back the canvas flap. He removed a package of salted pork and pulled out some of the dried fruit as well.
Simper groaned as he rested his back against the shed planking. “I’d forgotten what it takes to carry so much. My old body feels as if I’d been unloading supply wagons all day.”
As soon as Mordon dug their meal from the canvas pack, he slipped the container behind Simper. “We have water for at least two days. I remember a stream running next to the road on the other side of these hills. Raeah told us to drink only from moving streams. We can resupply what we drink between here and the stream when we get there.”
“Yeah . . . I’d forgotten about that stream until you mentioned it just now. I wish I could just lie down in the middle of it, and let the cool water take away some of these aches.” Simper paused, for only an instant, “Why does she want us to drink from only moving water?”
“I believe it is because of the powder Scatley dumped into the water supply. I warned your men about it as soon as I saw Scatley dumping it in the wells. The moving water must dissipate the effects of the powder, or render it ineffective. Poltarc’s men must have poisoned every well and pond on the island. Dumping their powder in a moving stream or river would just carry it away.” Mordon moved his frame into a more comfortable position, “We should ask Raeah about the powder. I trust her warning was meant to keep us safe.”
They ate what Mordon had taken from the pack, and leaned back on their packs, trying to relax. Mordon smiled when he could hear Simper’s quiet snoring. They had both earned a good sleep, but Mordon was not about to let anything, or anyone, surprise them in the shed. Besides, he was not as tired as he should have been. He would let Simper get the good sleep tonight.
The wind had risen. There were a few heavy drops of rain, but the squalls lasted only seconds. It surprised Mordon how different it sounded out here in the forest. He could hear tree limbs rubbing against other limbs where they crossed. The wind soughed through the broad leaf trees, causing the leaves to shake and rustle against their neighbor. These were sounds not completely unfamiliar, although they felt new. Living inside the cistern tower for years separated him from the natural sounds of nature. Mordon found he was enjoying the sounds coming within his hearing. He listened, with the intent of separating and categorizing every sound he could hear. The sound of an owl came from a distance further in the forest. A mouse, or weasel, was scratching at the base of the wall inside the hut next to his hip. He heard the cry of a nighthawk somewhere overhead. There was a flicker of motion at the top of the doorway from a bat searching for food. Maybe this wasn’t much different than leaning on the battlements at the castle, after all.
Mordon came from his inattentiveness with a rush of adrenaline surging through his body. It was fully dark outside the hut, and blacker still in the interior of the shed. But he realized they were being watched. The only thing he could see was a darker outline of a head peering around the edge of the sullied hut, but it was enough to bring him to full alert. He realized his sword was still in its sheath. Simper’s leg covered the largest portion. He would be unable to withdraw the sword before the animal, or whatever it was, would be on them. Both their pikes were leaning at the corner of the shed behind them and their packs.
They had not prepared for anything, other than finding shelter from possible rain. His stomach tightened with the thought of his incompetence, even the knife he had habitually started to carry was in his pack. His lack of foresight left him with little recourse, defending himself with his bare hands. Waking Simper would only add to any confusion.
The clouds opened for an instant, and the starlight revealed more of the intruder; it was the head of a large dog. The memory of the king’s pet wolfhounds rushed into his thoughts. It was a wolfhound standing motionless, only feet from their sanctuary. Mordon picked up the bones from their dinner, and tossed them toward the dog. Its head disappeared and then came back. It sniffed at the bones, and lay down to grind them between strong teeth.
Mordon had to smile at the flash of memories flooding his thoughts. There had been wolfhounds around the castle following him as a child. He could remember weeding the castle garden with one of the great beasts always at his side. Watching him removing every blade and root of weed from the flowerbeds. They had always scrutinized him so closely it made him feel as if he would try to steal even the weeds from the castle.
When he was older, the wolfhounds would wander in and out of the stables like glowering captains making sure nothing was amiss. None of them had ever given him any open friendship. The few times he had tried to pet one of them, they would growl and move away. Wicliff had told him to ignore them, so that was what he had done. Only occasionally in all the years he had served the king had he wished the hounds would befriend him; none ever had.
The sound of bone being crushed drowned out the other sounds Mordon was hearing before. It was surprising to Mordon that Simper did not waken. The grinding stopped. The ears of the hound were lifted to the night . . . listening. The dog stood and voiced a low growl. Advancing from behind the hut, the hound backed toward the shed where Mordon sat watching. Continuing to voice low growls, the hound backed toward the open shed door with stiff-legs. When it reached the doorjamb, it laid down facing the trees. The large dog’s hindquarters were now only inches from Mordon’s feet.
Mordon held his breath in wonder of its actions. It was protecting them from something unseen. Simper and he may be the first people the dog had to protect since before the sack of Widley. Mordon was in a quandary, should he try to retrieve his sword? His movement would surely distract the hound. If he waited until the dog was attacked, it may be too late to help in any manner. Mordon’s muscles tensed, just as the silhouette of a small bear came from the right of the shed. It was several feet from the growling dog. The bear stopped long enough to sniff the air, and then walked off behind the corner of the hut, out of sight. The dog’s head dropped to the grass, but its ears moved back and forth in search of other sounds, apparently no longer interested in the small bear. Simper snorted in his sleep. Turning its head, the dog considered the interior of the shed, but did not move. Mordon hoped they had gained a friend.
The wolfhound was clearly forest-wise. If the hound stayed with them, its aid would be invaluable, assuring a safer passage to Wycot. If Mordon paid close enough attention to the dog, he could learn a great deal about living in the forest. Mordon had to smile at the irony of the situation. Here was an animal that had never shown the least interest in him, now serving as his defender. It made him wonder if the deity he had pretty much ignored in church, and elsewhere, had listened to the words in his head as they began their journey.
Feeling secure with his newfound company, Mordon allowed himself to drift off. All he could see as he awoke was empty space outside their shed. The dog was nowhere in sight. He shifted his shoulders, waking Simper in the process.
“Man, I slept like a log. Marching in the clean air put me out like snuffing a candle. Did I miss anything?”
Mordon had to smile and raise an eyebrow at Simper’s question. He colle
cted his pack, and emerged from the shed, expecting to see the wolfhound, but it was nowhere in sight. Mordon stretched, “My backside misses my bed. By the way, you missed seeing a wolfhound protecting us from a bear.”
Simper boiled out of the shed and looked around, “You’re kidding me, where did it go?”
“Beats me . . . I fell asleep knowing it would keep watch. Obviously, I was mistaken. When I woke up a moment ago, it was gone.”
Simper stretched, and then commenced rubbing his whiskered chin, “The king had seven of the hounds.”
“Yeah, I know, they always made me feel as if I was going to steal something.” Mordon watched as the older soldier laughed.
“They had a way about them alright. But they loved you, boyo. You couldn’t move about the castle grounds, or the streets, without one of the king’s hounds following you like a puppy. But whether they were protecting you, or watching what you did, could be interpreted differently. There was one hound named Conner that wouldn’t leave you alone.”
“All I remember, Simp, was they never let me touch them. They all looked alike . . . if it was just one of them watching me, I should have tried to make friends when I had the chance.”
“Well, it seems at least one of them survived the sacking. Maybe it will come back.”
“I wish it would, Simp. Having a wolfhound close by would make me feel a whole lot better on this journey we’ve begun.”
After collecting their gear, the two men slowly made their way back to the road. Both men were sore from the march they had endured. They took the time to stretch their muscles as best they could during their walk back to the roadway. Both too, kept watch for any sign of the wolfhound, hopeful they would meet again. The hound did not make an appearance until almost mid-day. They were approaching the burned-out husk of the way station, when the hound trotted out from the thick forest of broad leaf trees behind the station. It slowed its pace until standing completely still in front of them, nearly 20 feet away. It stood on the short grasses that were trying to reclaim the broad staging area in front of the station.
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