Mordon of Widley

by M. C. Stiller

  Mordon drew his cloak from the log next to him and covered them. Raeah seemed satisfied to lean into his body. It was the first time she had accepted anything from him for longer than a few seconds, except a touch of his hand. He gently applied pressure to Raeah’s shoulders with his arm and then tried to sleep.

  Sleep finally came to both figures against the log. Mordon succumbed to the relief his heart and mind craved. Raeah fell into the first sleep she had been unable to have for two years: the wraith did not require sleep and the princess, while residing in Glouster, was always at Poltarc’s bidding.

  When the early hours came, just before dawn, the three of them stirred from their slumbers. Cutter’s growl, and a nicker from more than one horse, brought them to their feet.

  Mordon snatched his sword from the grass, cursing he had left it lying where moisture might begin damaging the bright surface of the blade.

  Raeah looked at her hands and felt her face: even in darkness and sleep, she had not allowed her body to change. She was satisfied beyond belief. She searched in the direction the body of the dog was pointed, and then she saw them. Grey shapes bounding among the trees and out into the glade, racing for the terrified horses.

  The wolves ran silently toward their intended prey. Their leader circled to the right, and his mate swung to the left. His pack had the animals surrounded within seconds. The horses squealed their terror. The leader leaped upon the neck of one horse, letting his knife-like canines rip its jugular. Others of his pack were slashing and tearing at another terrified horse. He leaped again and ripped the belly open; disemboweling the already sorely wounded horse. Out of nowhere, he was confronted with something black and he snarled his displeasure at being blocked from his prey. The wolf leaped to challenge the wraith, and died without knowing what it confronted.

  The remainder of the wolves were tearing at the horse they had chosen as it stood shaking, unable to move from fright. Six of the grey shapes slashed, tore, and gulped the hot meat being taken from their prey’s hindquarters and muzzle. Something black collided with one of the pack, and they all fell upon the intruder. The jaws of the wolves snapped with cruel fangs to rend the thing killing them, but found nothing to bite. Everything died but one, and it ran away at its fear laden best speed, trying to elude the wraith that followed wherever it fled.

  Mordon held onto Cutter, while Simper finished the badly wounded horses with his sword. Two had been downed in the fray. The others had scattered into the trees and would have to be tracked down. The extra pack animal would now serve them well. The false dawn lit the glade just enough they could see what the wraith had done to the wolves. They were both stunned at how quickly the wraith had slaughtered the vicious animals. What hope would a person have against such a creature?

  Mordon deeply breathed in the morning air. The smell of blood was heavy in the glade. He stood with feet apart in balance, expecting one of the slain wolves to rise, but none did. Mordon watched the dog sniff the slain wolves and then come to stand at his side. He waited, thinking Raeah would walk out of the forest but she did not come. Simper came to him and looked up into his face.

  “Well boyo, so starts another interesting day.”

  They walked back to their place of encampment where they felt lost without Raeah’s presence. It was still too dark for them to follow the horses. Stumbling around in among the trees was not a pleasant thought with Raeah in wraith form. They must at least be able to follow the tracks; in this light, it would be impossible. Their indecision turned to disconcerted tension when the wraith floated out from the trees across the glade. It moved to the downed horses and hovered like a black cloud over the slain animals. Then it drifted toward them in a slow shifting of silken layers. The wraith still wore the eye patch on its head of bone. It came up to them and stopped a few feet at their front.

  Mordon discovered he did not feel fear as he had expected. Simper stood as a statue beside him, not moving a muscle. “If you think the form of the wraith will frighten us, you think wrong. We know what you are inside. Your killing the wolves helped us beyond any doubt. We would probably have been injured ourselves if we had attempted fending the wolves from the horses. You, my lady, reacted faster than either of us and accomplished what we could not have done . . . within seconds. You are an amazing person.”

  After playing with, and finally killing the lone escaped wolf, Raeah had changed back to the princess, but hesitated before walking out into the glade. She had shared everything with Mordon and Simper, except letting them see her as the wraith. The idea of letting them fully see her frightened her: considerably more than the telling of what she had done to innocent people. She feared their reaction to her visage. She finally decided they, as well as she, needed to know what Poltarc had done to her in full.

  Raeah changed into the wraith, and floated out to the stricken horses and paused. The sight of blood no longer brought a lust for more; for this she was indebted to the two men standing across the glade. She moved without haste to stop a few feet from Mordon and Simper. Mordon spoke, and the tension she could see in Simper eased. Raeah was pleased with them both. She let the wraith coalesce into the body of the princess and stood, watching their faces. Their emotional connection to her was still there, but she could tell it had been tempered by the telling of last night.

  Mordon moved to stand with Raeah, and placed his hands on her arms. How could he trust his feelings for such a creature that Raeah had become? If they did indeed play a game, the chances of his winning were slim at best. “I cannot stop caring Raeah, though I tried last night. I learned being without you, no matter what form in which you reside, is abhorrent to me. Without you, I would find the darkest deepest cave on the island, and let myself wither from the loss of you. You are my Raeah, and I will do for you whatever is asked of me.”

  Simper had been scared nearly witless seeing the wraith float to where he stood. Her appearance would frighten anyone. The patch she wore over her one bony eye socket had been made with his best attempt at pleasing the girl. It was the same eye patch. He knew somewhere in the layers of black Raeah lived. Mordon’s voice and words portrayed a sense of concern instead of loathing. He couldn’t stop favoring the girl either. Damn… he’d throttle Poltarc with his bare hands if it would free the girl. Simper walked forward, pulled Raeah from Mordon, and hugged her for a moment. He released her, and held her at arms’ length, “Gods girl, let’s leave this place and get on with our quest.” Simper let her go and turned to Mordon, “You have all the food that’s left. How’s about pulling out some of the beef and fruit for us to eat . . . I’m starving.”

  They ate while the morning sky brightened above them. Sunlight finally lit the cliff and then the falls, bringing another rainbow to dance about in the mist. One horse came from behind them, seeking human company. Mordon petted and cooed to the animal. The horse seemed quite calm after its experience just hours before. Simper found and followed a set of tracks leading away and down, following with as much speed as he could muster.

  Mordon spoke to Raeah over his shoulder, “If you will tend this animal, I’ll see what I can do to find the third horse.” He laughed and added, “I don’t think I have to worry about someone coming while Simp and I are away.”

  Raeah chuckled and then responded, feeling happier than she had in years. “No, Sir Mordon, I suspect anything coming into the glade can be properly handled.”

  Mordon turned from the horse and grimly smiled at the woman. His only answer was a stronger, more honest smile and a nod. He left Raeah to continue calming the horse, and quickly found the tracks he wished to follow. They led in the direction Raeah had gone soon after sunset, almost directly south of the glade. The forest floor clearly showed where the heavy animal had disturbed the soft earth. In a half hour, he came upon the animal standing half asleep against a cliff. He cooed his presence, giving the horse ample time to see him and accept his being here. Within minutes, he was leadi
ng the animal back along the same trail he had followed. By the time, he emerged from the forest, Simper had collected the other horse. The man was digging into his pack for more food.

  They shared a few more slices of dried fruit to please Simper. Mordon had wanted Simper to lighten his pack first. At this point, the old soldier’s pack shouldn’t contain much beyond clothes. It was difficult to ascertain just what Simper was hiding in his pack: Mordon was always amazed by the things Simper supplied from its pockets.

  Simper finished his last bite, and leaned back against the log. “I think right about now a mug of ale would just about be enough to make me happy.”

  Raeah stood and walked to her horse, but responded to Simp, “When we finish in Glouster, there is a mountain of different barrels, mason jugs, and bottles all stacked to the ceiling. But we would have to live there for the rest of our lives to finish the last of them.”

  Simper grunted, “Sounds like my kind’a warehouse.”

  Mordon tied his pack behind Raeah’s saddle. She did not question his doing so. Bright lady, thought Mordon as he mounted his horse. His animal already carried enough weight without adding his huge pack. Raeah’s animal didn’t seem to notice any weight beyond the princess’s athletic frame.

  They left the way they had come, only Mordon led. None turned to look back at the glade. The sight of the slaughtered animals would only diminish their memories of the once picturesque glade. A great deal had happened while they had encamped there. As Mordon rode among the trunks, he thought of their next practice section and tried to remember every move Raeah had taught him.

  The three mounted figures rode the day away without sighting another human being. The roadway led them in a meandering path through the range of mountains bisecting Haverid. They eventually exited from the lower western hills out into a wide valley stretching 40 miles across. Some distance ahead, the land reached the horizon in a long arc.

  Raeah pointed into the distance at the open area, “Beyond what you see is Norcanton Sound, and Glouster.” Hearing her speak the word sent a swirl of emotion through them all. Only time would tell what was up ahead.

  Raeah led them almost due west away from the road, across a flood plain. The willows and bramble they edged their horses into were isolated on small islands of slightly higher debris. The two men followed Raeah’s lead through the twisting pathways until the horses stepped out upon the wide bank of a river. Their eyes searched up and down the flotsam strewn banks. They seemed to be alone.

  Raeah turned her animal to the left, leading them almost a mile downstream. They came to a large eddy curling against a diminutive moss covered rock cliff. A large silvery fish jumped clear of the water and splashed back through the slowly churning surface.

  Mordon slid from his saddle and eagerly dug into his pack for his precious fishing gear. In his excitement, he did not take the time to lift the pack from Raeah’s horse. He found a sturdy willow and cut it to size. Mordon cautiously approached the low bank, and dipped the line into the water.

  Simper and Raeah watched Mordon, both content to see him completely absorbed and happy in his simple task.

  Simper stood next to Raeah and her horse, resting his hands on Mordon’s pack. He looked up to where Raeah was seated in the saddle, “He’s a caution when it comes to catching fish. Wicliff loved fishing, so I guess it rubbed off on Mordon.”

  Raeah watched Mordon, but was thinking of her own past, “Father demanded his entourage stop at this very eddy. He loved to catch the salmon coming up this river. He was just as enthused as Mordon. What is there about a man and a rod that turns them into a child at heart?”

  Simper wasn’t sure how to respond to Raeah’s distracted question. She continued speaking as if she had never expected an answer from him.

  “The salmon are here only at this time of the year. Father would make any excuse just to be here when they came.” Raeah slid from her saddle and walked a short distance to a scared downed tree; a victim of past floods lying half burred in other discarded flotsam. “I can remember the cooks waiting patiently for his catch. His escort of soldiers appreciated the entertainment father provided. There was a great deal of boredom and gaiety for everyone except father. He plied the eddy with his line until sufficient numbers of salmon were caught to feed everyone watching. His sense of ethics would not allow him to catch more than was needed, but I knew he hated to put his precious rod back into its case.”

  Simper listened to Raeah’s soliloquy. The girl was sitting almost within reach, but her thoughts had taken her away. The fire he was building produced almost no smoke the wood was so dry. By the time Mordon landed one of the silvery jumping fish, it would be ready for cooking their evening meal.

  Simper plied the flame with larger pieces from the ample supply of flood debris, then moved to sit next to the girl. When he sat next to her, she absentmindedly placed her hand on his shoulder. Even when he patted it with fatherly affection, she remained focused within her thoughts. He sighed quietly, realizing he did not want to journey further into what was coming.

  This moment was too peaceful, and too endearing, for him to think of the coming storm. These two people had become his family. What he felt for them was hard to explain. Raeah was the daughter of a king; someone he still felt obligated to protect. Yet, she was filling a vast space in his heart. Mordon was a fellow soldier, but also a man he loved as a son.

  Lizbeth waited for him back in her valley. How unfair, it seemed, that living had only approached him so late in life. All the years he had spent soldiering had somehow separated him from what he was discovering as much more important than just providing a service to a king. There was so much he had allowed to pass him by.

  Simper had to smile when Raeah clapped her hands in excitement. Mordon was pulling their dinner onto the bank of the river. When the girl jumped up to join Mordon on the bank, Simper could not help but cough; trying to suppress his emotional reaction to the simple joy he was witnessing. How an old man was going to protect these two from the likes of Poltarc, and the thousands still under his command, was a perplexing problem he desperately wished to solve.

  This time, Simper found pleasure in cooking their meal.

  Thrust . . . parry . . . thrust . . . maneuver with balance and grace . . . attack and counter attack . . . the swordsman and the swordswoman kicked up silty sand about their rapidly moving feet. They smiled at one another, each trying to inflict a minor wound on the other without success. They kept their brisk pace for over an hour, neither gaining any advantage over the other. Both were perspiring from their efforts.

  Mordon had become proficient in guarding against the tactics Poltarc apparently applied. His response time and counter strikes had become melded with what he already knew. If Poltarc was surprised by his proficiency with the sword, the man’s pause may offer him the opportunity to prevail. Mordon wanted to continue their practice, but could see the sweat dripping from Raeah’s face. He leaped back and saluted her with his sword, “Time to clean ourselves and talk.”

  Raeah could have fenced like this forever, it was a joy to watch Mordon fight and respond to the movements she had taught him only hours before. She could not help but tease him, “You fight like an old woman with pain in her joints. I try to lift you from your lethargic motion, but you seem unable to learn the simplest maneuvers.”

  Mordon just smiled at her, he knew she had fought in earnest. She had been unable to exact an opening for the tip of her sword, but he could not boast of any advantage either. “Ah . . . you fight as if you expect help from above because you know I hold my strength in reserve. Your tender hands and face mean more to you than a good fight.”

  Raeah flushed, she should have expected his quick wit. “My face and hands will heal without scar if you allow them the time to heal.” She became more serious, “You must not allow the time for Poltarc to heal from one wound before he has a dozen more with which to cont
end.” She walked to Simper’s sword sheath, and pushed the blade home. Raeah glanced at Simper, who had found a comfortable place to slowly feed their fire. Looking back to Mordon, she discovered him walking toward the river, removing his clothes as he went. She shrugged and strode to join the man in the water of the river.

  They swam in the slow-moving coolness, and splashed themselves clean. Mordon pulled her to him and gently kissed her lips.

  Raeah felt the man harden against her legs, and pushed him away. Anger flared inside her. Telling this man, she could not stand his touch would be counter-productive. She had already put in too much effort for her to make a mistake now. “I . . . I can’t. I close my eyes, and all I see . . . ,” she stroked twice with her arms, distancing herself from Mordon. When her feet touched the river bottom, she quickly stepped close to the shore and turned back. There was still only emptiness inside of her, but she needed to continue her ruse. “There will come a time for such things.” Raeah was beginning to hate herself. She had wanted this man to love her, as she had been unable to devise another plan to make him want to help. From her story, Mordon had learned much of Poltarc. She believed Mordon now needed to confront the evil of Poltarc, even without her presence. But they both needed to know the truth of Poltarc. If they remained after tonight, she would have their loyalty to the end.

  “It wasn’t something I intended, my lady. Kissing you just seemed the right thing to do. Best I wait in this cool water while you dry.”

  She smiled at him, and then laughed, “Waiting a moment may be just what you need. We wouldn’t want to frighten Simper, would we?” She turned and waded from the water, still smiling. What she had to tell them tonight may cause them to leave her on the riverbank as they set out back toward Widley. But they needed to know who, and what, they were expecting to fight. She felt Mordon would go on with the quest regardless, but did not know if Simper could accept the truths.