by Dana Davis
“Good,” he praised. “That’s enough for now.”
She nodded. Her arms trembled from the weight of her father’s sword.
Ian took the weapon from her and slipped it into the sheath on her back as though it weighed nothing. He grinned and rubbed at his cropped hair. “You’ll get used to it.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Mount up.”
“Yes, sir.” She scooped up her hat and headed toward Graypony.
Marjordan held the reins out for her. “Ian’s a good teacher. You’d do well to learn everything he can show you.”
“I plan to.” She spoke with more irritation than she meant to and gave the woman an apologetic look as she took the reins. The leather scraped against her blisters and she sucked in a quick breath at the pain.
“Let me see.” Marjordan took Cait’s hat, hooked it on the horn of her saddle, then took her hands from the reins and flipped them palms up. “Stay put.” She turned to rummage through her saddlebag. “Give me a minute, Ian.”
“Yes, Healer.” The warrior smiled at Cait.
She stood with her hands out while her primary gently rubbed salve onto the blisters and bandaged them in clean strips of cloth. Soothing.
“That should protect you from infection,” Marjordan informed her. “Once calluses form, you won’t have to worry about blisters. Until then, try to keep those hands clean and dry.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Cait plucked her hat from her saddle horn, climbed onto Graypony’s back and followed the others.
It didn’t take long to find the shallow crossing in Lost River and get to the other bank. They were soon in the mutant forest and Caitlanna found herself twitching at every sound. A snake slithered from underneath rock and away from the travelers. Luckily, the creature was far enough away not to spook the horses. Graypony huffed and Cait patted his neck. Then she focused to stay calm as they rode on.
The trees grew thicker as they advanced further into the forest. Sunlight danced through the swaying branches above and created eerie shadows on the ground. On several occasions, Cait was certain someone hid behind a nearby tree but each time she looked, nothing. Her frayed nerves finally settled a bit and she began to relax. In fact, she became drowsy as they traveled past the monotonous landscape and shifted her weight to keep from falling asleep in the saddle.
Suddenly, Ianandy held up a hand to stop the group then put a finger to his lips to promote silence. Cait watched as the warrior scanned the nearby trees. A rustle off to the right startled her.
The two warriors drew their weapons immediately.
A small child, a girl, stepped from behind a trunk. The little one looked no older than three years and held a flower in her small, dirty hand. That’s when Cait noticed the child had only one arm. She had never seen a mutant, since they were usually abandoned to the forests at birth or soon after. From the stories she’d heard, she expected them to be fierce looking, but other than a missing limb, this girl looked much like any other child.
The mutant child grinned and held the flower out toward Cait. She smiled back and prepared to climb from her saddle.
“Stay put, Caitlanna,” Marjordan said in a low voice. The woman sat her horse with sword in hand.
Cait reached back for her own sword when another mutant, this one a woman with half of her face the color of blueberries, stepped from the trees. The woman’s eyes flew open when she saw the group. She immediately darted for the child, snatched her up in her arms and fled.
Ian and Whit quickly dismounted and surveyed the area.
“All clear,” Ianandy finally announced.
“She was afraid.” Cait remembered the terror in the woman’s eyes. She sheathed her weapon.
“What?” Quinpatrik said. He’d been quiet lately, and Cait guessed that he was nervous, too. Those brown eyes seemed alert and he frowned at her.
“That woman—that mutant. She was afraid of us.”
“We had her outnumbered,” Ian explained, mounting his horse. “I told you mutants stay away from groups. They like to take easy captives.”
Cait nodded but something inside her urged for more explanation. She decided to keep her mouth shut, though. Warriors were in charge during travels and they were well trained about mutants and other dangers.
“We’d better keep moving.” Marjordan sheathed her sword. “I don’t want to use up healing herbs if I don’t have to.”
“Right.” Ian said, but he kept his weapon drawn as he urged his horse onward.
“Come on, Cait,” Marjordan said, breaking into her thoughts.
“Yes, ma’am.” She kicked Graypony into motion and followed the others, but not without glancing back several times.
Chapter 4
Danger from the Darkness
The next day they made their way out of the mutant forest just after noonmeal. Caitlanna was disappointed not to see any more mutants and she wondered what kind of life the little girl with one arm had.
They stopped early that evening atop a flat hill and the dark area that was Rotted City loomed in the distance. No one knew much about the ancient people who once inhabited the place, or any of the great city ruins that dotted the world, except that they must’ve lived in a wondrous and terrible time. Cait had heard tales of Rotted City. Nothing grew there, not even a blade of grass. The soil was dead, had been for many centuries. The ruins were infested with an ancient disease, and the tiniest sliver could cause illness if it pierced the skin. Legends said that weapons from The Great War had landed directly on the place and cursed it forever. And the only way to get to the Southern Mountains was through Rotted City. Water prevented passage to the west and the eastern ridge blocked the other side.
An arm encircled Cait’s shoulders.
“I’ve never been there, either.” Marjordan fanned herself with her hat. “There’s something quite mysterious about a place where nothing thrives.”
Caitlanna nodded, wrapped arms around the woman’s middle, then laid her head on Marjordan’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry I caused all this. But I’m glad the mutants let us through the forest without killing us.”
Marjordan stopped fanning and rubbed Cait’s arm. “I know you regret your actions.” She chuckled.
Cait lifted her head and gave her primary an inquisitive stare. “What is it, P-Marj? I haven’t driven you mad, have I?” She smiled.
The tall woman laughed. “Not yet, girl.” Her dark eyes focused on the distant city. “I was just thinking how this is turning out to be quite an adventure. Sub-sanction healers don’t get to travel that often, you know. Our patients get nervous when we’re not within shouting distance.”
“Then you forgive me?”
“Of course I do,” Marjordan said, as though Cait had gone mad. “You’re my blood, girl. I may get angry with your foolishness sometimes, but you’ll never drive me away. I thought you knew that by now.”
“I guess I did. Just nice to hear it.” She listened to the woman’s breathing for a moment and watched as the sun created pink clouds in the west. “I miss him.”
“I know. I miss him, too.”
Ianandy called them for nighmeal.
“I miss his cooking, too,” Marjordan added as she steered Cait toward the campfire.
Cait laughed, knowing that her father had been the best cook in their sub-sanction. Marjordan wasn’t bad but the woman didn’t come close to her brother’s talent with food. “Who’s cooking tonight?” she asked, when she realized her primary was usually at the fire, not watching sunsets from a hill.
Marjordan grimaced. “Whithelen offered.”
“And you let her?” She knew the warrior found cooking a challenge. Whithelen could deftly swing a sword but her meals usually lacked something important—taste.
Marjordan chuckled as they approached the others. She leaned toward Cait. “I thought it only polite. Besides, I have plenty of herbs for stomach pains.” The two laughed.
“That’ll be enough of that,” Whit scolded. One dark hand shook a wooden spoon
at the two. “I’ll have you know I’ve taken lessons from Jilpatsy.”
Jilpatsy was now the best cook in sub-sanction M3, but Cait had doubts about any of the woman’s talent rubbing off on Whit.
The warrior pulled her broad, muscular shoulders back. Sweat glistened on her dark skin. “She says I’ve improved.”
“You could go no other way,” Quinpatrik said. A smile twitched near the corner of his mouth and his eyes lit.
“You’d better watch your manners, Finder Quin, or I’ll make you eat twice as much as everyone else.” Whit’s plump lips spread into a grin.
“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckled and helped dish the food.
The group bedded down just after sunset. Cait lay awake for a while, listening to Ian snore and observing Whit as the warrior paced back and forth on watch. Her blisters stung slightly from holding reins all day, and she opened her hands to expose her palms to the air until sleep took her.
Someone shook her shoulder and she awoke to see Marjordan leaning over her.
“Get up quietly,” the woman said.
It was still dark and Cait’s heart sprinted at the worry on her primary’s face. “What is it, P-Marj?” she said. Then she heard it. A low growl, somewhere in the darkness. “Dagbeasts,” she said, answering her own question.
“Yes. Move quietly and take your sword.”
She did as her primary instructed and unsheathed the sword that lay next to her, before pushing to her feet. She saw Quin put more wood on the fire—it looked as though it had gone out. He cursed softly when one of the logs rolled off and threw sparks at his face.
Another growl pulled Cait’s focus out into the darkness. She could make out shadows of what looked like four dagbeasts at the bottom of the hill. One looked quite small.
“They’re keeping their distance, so far,” Whithelen informed in a low voice. She held her sword in one hand and touched the knife sheathed near her belt with the other.
Cait imagined the beasts’ sharp teeth and wild eyes and shivered. Ancients once owned ancestors of these creatures as pets, until The Great War turned them out into the wild. Dagbeasts were extremely vicious pack animals and no one in Cait’s time had tamed them. A few had tried in the past but were ripped to shreds for their efforts. Three dagbeasts advanced. Caitlanna and the others held weapons, ready to fight.
“Stay behind me,” Ianandy told her. “Don’t use your sword unless you have to.” He kept his blade extended toward the animals.
She didn’t answer. Her ears rang with fright as she tried desperately to steady the heavy weapon in her hands. Her bladder felt as though it might burst and she feared that her legs wouldn’t hold her weight much longer. Keep your mind on the dagbeasts. She concentrated on the shadowy creatures. They paced at the bottom of the hill, as though deciding whether to charge the camp. Hairs on Cait’s arms stood on end and her heart pumped in her ears.
Suddenly, there was a howl in the distance and the dagbeasts dashed away. Cait let out a long, breathy sigh as her legs gave out from under her. She crouched, waiting for her strength to return.
Marjordan flew to her side and checked her over.
“I’m fine, P-Marj,” she told the woman. “Just the jitteries.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, ma’am.” She allowed her primary to help her up. Her legs held this time. The woman relieved her of the weighty sword, for which she was grateful. “What did they want?” She glanced nervously out into the dark and then to Ianandy.
“Probably searching for a meal,” Ian said with irritation, but he wasn’t looking her direction. His gaze was on Quin. He advanced on the younger man and struck him across the face with the back of his hand. Quin stumbled.
Cait started after him but Marjordan held her fast. “Leave it.”
“You ever do something that stupid again,” Ian said fiercely, “and dagbeasts will be the least of your worries.”
Quin pushed to a crouch next to the growing fire, youthful features dancing in the firelight. “Yes, Warrior.” His eyes dropped in obedience, followed by his head, and sandy hair obscured his face.
“I’ll take watch until morning,” Ian said in a disgusted tone. He stormed to the edge of the hill and stared out into the darkness.
“What happened?” Cait uttered.
“Quin fell asleep,” Marjordan told her.
“Oh.” That was all she needed to know.
Falling asleep on watch was worthy of a beating. Quin was lucky to get off so easily. He might hold the respected title of a finder on digs but during travels, where danger lurked, warriors ruled. Healers could override a warrior on travels but they only did so when there was very good reason. This was not one of those times.
She glanced at the finder, who now sat with his head on his knees.
“Get back to bed,” Marjordan told her. “We still have a couple hours until sunup.”
She nodded and headed to her blankets, realizing she’d forgotten about her blisters in all the excitement. She lay for a while, afraid to close her eyes, but Ianandy’s presence calmed her and she finally slept.
The others were up when she awoke at dawn. Her gritty eyes found Marjordan, Whithelen, and Quinpatrik. The three crouched nearby, packing the saddlebags. Memories of the previous night returned and Cait cocked her head toward the grassy area below the hill. There were no dagbeasts anywhere, just grass, shrubs, a few trees and numerous insects.
“Morn, sleepy.” Marjordan stretched and rubbed at her back.
“Morn.” Cait let out a vicious yawn. She noticed the older warrior was missing. “Where’s Ian?”
“Taking care of personal business.” Marjordan made her way over with some tubers, bread and cheese. “You’d better get a move on if you want to eat before we ride out.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She quickly rolled her blankets and took the offered food.
“You still have water?”
“Yes.” She took a bite of the cheese.
“Good. Eat. Then you can take care of your own business before you ready your horse. I’m afraid there’s no time for a bath today.” She offered an apologetic look. “But Whit brought some wash water from the lake.” Her head cocked toward a small bucket near the doused fire. “At least you can freshen up.”
“That’ll be fine, P-Marj.” Cait squinted up at the woman. “You’ll give yourself stomach pains worrying about me all the time. I’m a smart girl, most of the day.” She grinned.
Marjordan chuckled and flipped her long braid behind her back. “Just don’t get too smart with me, girl. I can still make your life miserable.” Her dark eyes glistened.
“I don’t think I’ll test that theory.” She shoved a large piece of bread into her mouth and wrinkled her nose at her primary.
“If you two don’t quit flapping your jowls,” Ian said as he started up the hill, “we’ll never get out of here.”
Marjordan turned on him then smirked. “You may be in charge while we travel, Warrior. But I suggest you remember who sews you up.” Both hands went to her hips.
He winced. “Yes, Healer.” He lowered his eyes but there was a tiny grin on his lips.
It wasn’t long before Cait was ready to go, and Marjordan wrapped her blistered hands. She pulled her hat on, tightened the strap on her horse’s saddle, and secured her saddlebag before mounting. The weight of her father’s sword on her back offered comfort as she looked out toward the dark area that was Rotted City.
“Ready?” Ian said, and he waited for the others to respond. “Good. I’ll ride the lead and Whit will watch our rears. Keep your eyes and ears sharp. Dagbeasts could still be in the area and we’ve no idea what other dangers await at Rotted City.” He narrowed eyes on Quinpatrik, who had been subdued all morning. “Understood?”
“Yes, Warrior.” Quin shifted his weight in his saddle.
Ianandy nodded and his eyes lingered on the younger man before he started down the hill trail.
Caitlanna’s stomach clenched as she steered he
r horse behind the others, toward the dreaded city.
Chapter 5
Rotted City
Cait followed between her primary and Quinpatrik. She wanted to talk to the finder, get close to him, but knew Ian wouldn’t have that. The warrior hadn’t given any sign that Quin was forgiven, yet, so Cait would just have to be patient. She twisted in her saddle and looked back, giving her lifelong friend a brief, sympathetic smile.
He nodded to her, letting her know that he planned to stay alert. Then he motioned her to turn around.
She focused on her primary’s horse as she rode. The mount’s black hair appeared deep blue in the sunlight. Marjordan looked regal in the saddle despite the dust on her tunic and leggings. Cait knew the woman longed for a bath, as healers seemed to have an affinity for cleanliness. Her thoughts drifted here and there as they followed the trail.
****
The sun was nearly overhead by the time Rotted City came into view as more than a black enigma on the landscape. Cait studied the dark outlines and wondered what they would find there. Then she decided it wise not to let her imagination get the better of her nerves.
A tiny insect landed on her grimy arm and she watched it for a moment, until the thing pierced her flesh in search of a meal. “Ow.” She swatted the little winged invader.
Marjordan quickly turned and studied her. “Cait?”
“Just a skeeto. I killed it.”
Her primary’s eyes narrowed. “How about saving your outbursts for real danger.” By the expression on her face, the woman spoke as a healer now, not to be crossed.
“Yes, ma’am. Sorry.”
Marjordan turned her attention back to her horse and urged the animal next to Ian’s. There wasn’t much of a trail now and Cait glanced around. The lake to her right shimmered in the sunlight, causing her to squint. The eastern ridge to her left blocked much of the airflow and she suddenly felt hot and sticky. She pressed her feet into the stirrups and pushed her legs straight for a moment. Stretching felt good.