The Emissary (Dawn of Heroes Book 1)

by H. A. Harvey

  “Don’t worry,” Autumn reassured him through half-sleep, “It won’t be much longer till you can go home and won’t have to keep counting. Still, it’s nice that you remember them so well. I wonder what you’ll remember about me.”

  “Autumn . . . Longstrider,” Nian began, “I don’t know if there’s more to your name, but since the Longstrider Alpha is your adopted father, it seems to fit.”

  “I like it.”

  “Alright,” Nian cleared his throat and restarted, “Autumn Longstrider is half Dryad, half Elven. Her Dryad mother and Elf father perished when she was ten as their grove was burned by outlaws. She was rescued by the mercenary captain Adair, Alpha to the Longstrider pack of Silvermane Wolves. While I’ve heard most Dryads wither and die when their home is destroyed, Autumn adapted and followed Adair and his pack of warriors. Eventually, she joined them as one of their fighters, and quickly became one of the pack leaders. She is small and delicate in appearance, but has a strength to her that echoes subtly in every graceful motion or calculated gesture. Her pack-mates call her stoneface, but not out of disrespect. Her stoicism makes her a figure of awe among her peers and subordinates, even though it is largely just from her slightly stiffened skin as a Dryad.”

  Nian idly stroked the flesh of Autumn’s arm. He gazed at the stone tomb in front of them thoughtfully for a moment.

  “Most of her companions don’t seem to note that her golden eyes shift hue slightly, giving the same clues to her feelings as any facial expression would. And though her skin may be thicker and more rigid than others, it is still soft and smooth to the touch. Her voice is haunting, like a summer breeze through trees. None of what I remember matters though. I knew this morning that I couldn’t breathe if you were just a memory.”

  Nian paused a moment, not daring to breathe as he waited for a response. When none came, he looked down at Autumn to find she had drifted to sleep with her head on his shoulder. He sighed, then wrapped the cloak tighter around them both and shifted slightly to get his back cradled in the hard stone behind them. In response to his motion, Autumn stirred and gripped his jerkin tightly, as though he were a branch over a high cliff and she might fall off. Nian gently stroked her hair to soothe her and waited for her to relax, listening to the rain fall. She still had not eased her grip when sleep crept up on him again.

  . . .

  Rowan-Willow’s voice was hoarse from shouting at Tombo. His fists were raw and bleeding from pounding uselessly on the beast’s shoulders. The hampan rushed on, still fueled with anger and a blind need to get his master to the safety of trees. In exhausted desperation, he recalled Kolel’s advice, to be still. Rowan relaxed and thought. Of course! His panic and noise only fed the creature’s blind rage.

  Keeping a soft voice, which his throat thanked him for immediately, Rowan whispered Tombo’s name and quiet words of comfort. He reached up and rested a hand alongside the hampan’s thick neck. Slowly, Tombo slackened his pace and ambled to a stop. He relaxed his grip around Rowan’s waist and lowered him gently to the ground.

  Rowan found that he could barely rest any weight on his leg before it threatened to collapse. He cut the trousers from his wounded leg and tied it over the wound in strips while David slowly eased himself down from Tombo’s back. David looked like he was shaken half to death, and moved stiffly as he hobbled over to Rowan’s side. He held out Rowan’s lance and leaned against a nearby boulder, stretching his limbs as Kolel and the others rode up.

  “I . . . am glad you decided to stop, my friend.” Kolel winced as he spoke, glancing down at his hand over the arrow in his stomach briefly before looking back at Rowan. “Gatefyre can run from dawn to dusk, but not carrying three. This hour or so has put him close to his limit.”

  Rowan braced against the butt of his lance and slowly tested weight onto his leg again. Needles of pain shot through his thigh, but he could stand at least to some extent. He hobbled over to Tombo and hauled against his shoulder to turn the hampan about.

  “Rest here.” He instructed, “I’m going back for Elly and Nian.”

  “Wait,” David stepped in front of Rowan to stop him, “You’re in no condition to fight, and enough time has passed, you can’t even say for sure they’re where we left them.”

  “I have to agree.” Kolel added weakly, “Among us . . . only David is unhurt. Even your simian friend is far from healthy.” The Sattal took a deep breath and paused a moment before continuing. “Nian asked for a bit of faith. As his friend, perhaps you should give it to him.”

  Rowan started to step around David when Tombo pulled back hesitantly and let out a pleading whine. Looking back at the hampan drew him up short. The great beast had a dozen or more arrow shafts protruding from his back and shoulders, most broken off short. Several gashes leaked steady streams of crimson through his mottled brown-grey fur, not all of them shallow. As Tombo’s anger cooled, the adrenaline drained away and Rowan could see a slight quiver to his friend’s frame. If he insisted, Rowan knew the hampan would carry him back, but it would be their last ride together.

  Gatefyre stood breathing heavily in the icy rain, his own coat running slick along his sides with blood, mostly from the beast’s riders. The horse itself seemed to have escaped unmarked save for an arrow in its right haunch. The wound was not critical, but likely made running or even walking painful. Rowan sighed and hung his head. He could walk back into certain death for either Nian or Ellia, but he couldn’t doom everyone.

  “You’re right,” Rowan admitted quietly, then raised his voice to be heard over the rain. “We can’t stop here. We need poultices, and more bandages than our cloaks could provide. Once we rest, we’re unlikely to move again for a while. I think your map showed a wooded valley Gateward of the road. We should be near it by now. We’ll make for that at the best speed we can manage.”

  “I am not certain that is wise.” Kolel objected.

  “Wise or not it’s our only option.” Rowan snapped. The Sattal had looked ready to elaborate, but weakened as he was from his wound, he withered as Rowan asserted his plan. “We’re too easy to find in the open, and don’t have anything to treat our wounds. Up here, we die. In a forest, I can evade any pursuer, and should be able to find herbs for a poultice. Otherwise, if we’re going to die anyway, I’m going back.”

  Kolel started to object again, but was stopped this time in a wince of pain that doubled him over in the saddle. When he managed to right himself, he nodded and kicked Gatefyre into a walk. David helped Rowan climb back onto Tombo’s back, but stayed afoot himself. It was probably for the best, as neither beast was up to much more than a Human’s jogging pace, and Rowan could tell Tombo was struggling slightly with just him.

  In another hour, the group came to a sheer cliff that dropped close to a hundred feet into dense, untouched woodland. A short walk Wheelward along the edge brought them to a river that cascaded down into the valley. At the head of the falls, Rowan found a sloped ledge wide enough for them to descend with only a little difficulty from the rain. On the way down, Rowan spied a wooded hill near the river, and turned the party toward it once they were on the valley floor.

  Near the foot of the hill, Rowan heard Riona let out a shriek behind him. He turned to see Kolel tumbling from the back of his horse, the other passengers were drug along with him. Rowan dropped from Tombo’s back onto his good leg and hobbled back to Kolel’s side as quickly as he could manage. Riona had already made it to her knees beside the Sattal as he and David reached them. Rowan and Riona managed to drag Adair out of the pooling water along the forest floor to the relatively dry ground on the hill. David carried Kolel up as well and gently lay him at the base of a large elm.

  “David,” Rowan barked quickly, “I need you to be my legs. Go look in the lowlands, wherever there’s ample shade. I need a plant with small red flowers and dark green leaves that look like a seven-pointed star with jagged edges. The stem and thorns will be reddish
as well, but not as bright as the flowers. Take care not to let the thorns break your skin, and pull it up roots and all. I’ll need a lot, but for now find one quickly.”

  Rowan bent to examine Kolel’s wound as David sprinted downhill into the forest. The Sattal’s breathing was ragged and weak, but Rowan’s largest concern came when he delicately pried Kolel’s hand from the base of the arrow shaft. The ichor coating his short fur was not the crimson he had hoped for, but inky black and thick even with the rain. Rowan had never liked what he called painting arrows. Padding a blow seemed like a waste of effort to him normally. However, he paused a moment at looked at Riona, wondering if he should send her on an errand before he said anything.

  “It is . . . alright, my friend.” Kolel managed weakly. “I have a cousin . . . quite the skilled surgeon. And I am familiar with what that fluid means.”

  “How many cousins do you have?” Rowan tried to force as much good humor into his voice as he could. At this point, the best he could do is indulge the chatty merchant’s incessant need for conversation.

  “I shall let you in . . .” Kolel replied, licking his lips after pausing for a grimace of pain, “Upon a secret. Sattal tend to call any other Sattal cousin. It keeps others guessing, and it’s tradition . . .gah . . . to think of any of the folk as family.”

  “W-what does it mean?” Riona stammered nervously as she rolled her cloak and tucked it behind Kolel’s head as a cushion.

  “It means . . .” Kolel swallowed a cough, “That the arrow . . . plugging its own hole is . . . quite likely the only reason I did not expire hours ago.”

  “And,” Rowan added quietly, “That without a magical healer, there is nothing we can do for him.”

  “Nonsense,” Kolel gave a laugh that was more than half cough. “Of course . . . you can do something.”

  The Sattal felt at his belt until he found and tugged loose his little scroll case. Taking Rowan’s hand, he laid the case across his palm.

  “See that Nian takes good care of Gatefyre.” Kolel nodded to himself, “A champion of the White Maiden should have a fine white steed. And you, my boy, can finish that bare spot where Tyre should be on my maps. Embarrassing enough that I seem to have lost my hat.”

  “No you didn’t. It’s just back where you fell. I’ll fetch it.” Riona replied quickly and dashed back down the hill to retrieve the broad-brimmed hat. She returned just ahead of David with a blood thistle plant held by the roots. However, by the time they reached Kolel, his breathing had ceased and he lay staring vacantly up into the canopy.

  Riona faltered to a stop at Kolel’s feet, holding the brim of the large hat with both hands as she bent her head to weep. Rowan eased Kolel’s eyes closed and, taking the hat gently from Riona, rested it over the merchant’s upturned face. He stood as David arrived, taking the plant carefully by the stem. He rummaged in his satchel until he produced a small turtle-shell bowl. He slid on a pair of thin rabbit-skin gloves that had been wrapped around a deer antler pestle from the bowl. Rowan donned the gloves and started paring down the thistle, using his cloak to keep the rain out.

  “David, I need you to take your knife and go over to that tree with pale bark there. Stab the knife in as high as you can reach, deep enough that you hit the wood, then pull straight down to the root base. Cut around the tree at the top and bottom of your line, and then peel the bark off. Be sure to peel it all the way to the wood. The inner bark is what we need.”

  While David headed over to the yeddo tree, Rowan set the bowl with plant bits to one side under a broad leaf. He gently removed Kolel’s riding cape and cut a strip from its length. He regretted that taking so much bark would kill the tree, but they’d need long strips, and it seemed better to kill one tree for sure than to spend hours locating ten or more and have half or more of them die. Rowan tied off Riona’s bleeding shoulder with the strip of cape cloth. As he tied two corners of the rest of the cape together, he tried to get Riona’s attention.

  “Riona . . . Riona! I need you to find more of the plant David brought back, it’s called blood thistle. Carry this sling by the knot.” Rowan pressed the knot in the cape into the hand on her injured arm. “This will let you carry more without catching yourself on a thorn. If you see any plants with broad leaves, we’ll need those too, just the leaves is fine, but don’t jam them in with the thistles. Here, loosen your top a bit and tuck leaves into your shirt. Avoid anything with an oily sheen to it, and remember to keep clear of the thorns on the blood thistle.”

  Riona nodded and hurried off into the woods. Rowan busied himself using his spear and a few long sticks to stretch his cloak out from the tree over Adair. He had finished the makeshift shelter and was eyeing the unconscious mercenary’s wounds as he ground up the bloodthistle when David came back dragging a good seven foot wrap of bark with him. The two young men added David’s cloak to the shelter and worked in tandem to unbuckle Adair’s armor and ease it off him without torqueing any arrow shafts too badly.

  Adair’s armor had slowed most of the arrows, and few were in very deep. He’d lost a dangerous amount of blood though, and one strike in particular concerned Rowan. The shaft bit into the middle of his upper back, and Rowan couldn’t be sure it hadn’t hit the man’s spine. He looked nervously out into the woods.

  “Riona should be back by now.” He murmured. Rowan grasped a low branch of the elm and snapped off a length of bough long enough to serve as a long cane or short staff. “I’ll go find her.”

  “No, I’ll go.” David objected.

  “You don’t know anything about tracking.”

  “And you can’t do anything to help her when you find her.” David countered, “We’ll both go. I don’t think many things will bother the hill while Tombo is up here.”

  Normally, Rowan would agree. However, Tombo was in no condition to fight, and dangerous things were drawn by the scent of blood. Still, the heavy rain would likely keep their scent from drifting too much. As long as they were back quickly, it should be alright. Rowan nodded and the two men set off in the direction Riona had left.

  They moved through the trees for ten minutes or so when Rowan was fortunate enough to glimpse Riona’s blonde hair off to their left. They hurried over to find her slumped back against the crook of a tree in a deep sleep. Rowan took her hands and looked them over as David shook her healthy shoulder to waken her.

  “I can’t believe she’d just doze off.” David fumed. “Wake up, stupid girl! We’re all exhausted.”

  “Don’t bother,” Rowan laid a hand on David’s to stop him, “She scratched her hand on one of the thistles. It looks like she was trying to sprint back, but making her blood run faster just sped things up. I’d wager she’ll be out for a while. I’ll take the sling of thistles, you carry her, but be careful of her chest.”

  “I’m no scoundrel, Rowan.” David scowled back.

  “I meant she has leaves in there that I plan to use to apply the poultices.” Rowan laughed slightly despite the stress of the situation and his throbbing leg. “If they’re torn, they won’t be as useful. Or didn’t you notice she was a bit more gifted?”

  David didn’t answer, but shoved the knotted cape at Rowan before lifting Riona to carry her back. Rowan paused and looked over his shoulder as David headed back for the camp. He felt uneasy as he scanned the empty woods. There was a distinct feeling that they weren’t alone, but he could see no trace of anyone among the trees. At length, he shook off the feeling and hobbled after David, though he kept an ear peeled behind him, hoping to catch some sound beyond the steady rain.

  “Alright,” David took a knee when they reached the hill, catching his breath, “What next?”

  “Dig the leaves out of her shirt while I work on the thistles.” Rowan replied as he knelt next to Adair, unwrapping the bundled plants carefully on the mercenary’s upturned breastplate. He smirked at David as the man gingerly tugged one leaf at a time from Riona�
�s collar. “You know, if you don’t hurry that up, the first thing I tell Karen when we see her will be how long you drug this out.”

  David scowled, but dutifully dug in the girl’s shirt and extracted a small stack of broad leaves.

  “Are you sure you don’t need to rummage and see if you missed a few?”

  “I’m going to punch you, Rowan.”

  “Alright, that’s plenty anyway.” Rowan laughed a little at David’s beet red complexion as he added the leaves to his little workspace. “Now get some sleep.”

  “I can help you with the dressings.” David objected.

  “You could,” Rowan agreed, “But as you pointed out to your slumbering mistress over there, we’re all exhausted. More importantly, I’m pretty sure we aren’t alone. When I put this poultice on my leg, I’ll be out for a good long time. We’ll need you rested to keep watch.”

  David couldn’t seem to find an argument against Rowan’s plan, so nestled into the roots of the elm near the edge of the shelter. Rowan applied the first bit of salve from crushed thistle, roper’s vine, and yeddo sap to Riona’s shoulder, then covered it with a strip of the yeddo tree’s sticky inner bark and rewrapped her shoulder. He then drug her over to lay alongside David, who stirred and glared at him angrily.

  “It’s not funny anymore Ro.”

  “I’m not joking.” Rowan replied evenly as he hobbled over to ease Riona’s cloak from under Kolel’s head and toss it at David. “You’re both cold and wet. We are down to one cloak, and I can’t risk a fire even if this rain stops. It’d probably be better for you both to strip out of those wet clothes under the cloak, but since there’s nowhere really dry to lay, I won’t push that. If you want to be a gentleman, in this case I’d say act like a mattress and keep her up off the ground as best you can.”