The Stone of Mercy

by M. J. Evans

  “Then let him show himself,” said Higson, puffing up his chest.

  “But we have no weapons,” said Tibbals. “The Heilodius took them, remember?”

  “I have my hooves,” said Tandum.

  “You have nothing to fear,” someone said. A Faun stepped out from behind a nearby tree.

  Carling started, nearly falling off Tibbals. She calmed down as soon as she realized who it was. The Faun working his way through the underbrush toward them was one of the Fauns who had spent the stormy night in the cabin with them. One of Pik’s companions.

  “Are you the one who has been following us?” asked Carling.

  “Yes. I didn’t want to scare you. I was just sent to make sure you were safe. I’ll lead you to the camp. Follow me.”

  The “camp,” as the Faun called it, was no more than a small clearing encircled by a tight cluster of trees. Because the branches of the trees were so interwoven, the clearing was impossible to see from without. It had to be accessed by skirting a boulder and wading in the icy cold water of the mountain stream before climbing back up on the shore and squeezing between two trees and under branches. Carling and her friends would never have found it without help. No one else would, either. That was the idea.

  Carling and her companions were welcomed warmly by the little group of runaway Fauns. The immigrants struggling to get out from under the oppression of the Cyclops showed their gratitude to Carling with warm hugs and other expressions of affection. Now it was Carling who needed to express gratitude to the Fauns for the part they’d played in rescuing her from the clutches of the Commander.

  Any celebrations were kept at a whisper, however, as they all had no idea if the Heilodius soldiers were tracking them. They ate what little food was available, mainly berries and bark, in near silence and by the light of the half-moon that peeked out from behind the rapidly moving clouds. Sleep came swiftly.

  Sometime during the night, Carling awoke with a start. She heard shouts and complaints as a band of creatures splashed around in the mountain stream, not far from their hideout.

  “How do you know this is the way they went?”

  “I followed their tracks to the water’s edge. But I can’t find where they left the river.”

  “Perhaps they stayed in the water to cover their tracks.”

  “That could be. Let’s continue downstream. But keep your eyes on the shore. This water is so cold, I doubt they would have stayed in it long.”

  The splashing and grumbling continued as the searchers, whom Carling assumed were Heilodius Centaurs, moved through the water…searching for them.

  Her heart beat so loudly, she feared they would hear it. She held her breath. No one else in the little grove was moving. She had no idea how many of them were even awake, but it wouldn’t surprise her if they all were.

  Gradually, the voices and noise dimmed as the soldiers moved farther away. Apparently they had not found where Tibbals, Tandum, and their escort left the river. Perhaps they were protected by the darkness. Perhaps one of the Fauns had been wise enough to cover their tracks.

  All was silent in the grove. Not a Centaur, Duende, or Faun moved until the searchers were gone.

  “Is anyone else awake?” Tibbals whispered when the night stillness returned.

  Seemingly everyone answered in the affirmative.

  “Who was that?” the filly asked.

  A Faun squeezed through the trees from the side by the river just in time to answer her question. “That was a group of ten Heilodius Centaurs. They were clearly looking for you. They must have discovered your empty cells.”

  “I hope Dalt and Bale are okay,” Carling said, sitting up. “And has anyone seen Pik?”

  “Pik arrived a while back and is on the lookout to the north,” one of the Fauns answered.

  At that moment, a Faun entered the clearing, struggling to catch its breath. It was Pik.

  “Oh, Pik. I’m so glad you’re safe,” Carling whispered.

  Pik huffed and puffed a response. “I have been keeping an eye…huff, puff…on that bunch. They’re good trackers, but they missed us. They’re still moving…huff, puff…downstream. They’re…quite a ways…huff, puff…away now.”

  Just before dawn the Fauns decided it was time to move on. They didn’t want the Heilodius soldiers to come back in search of them in the light of day. They gathered what little possessions they had in their packs and started out with Pik in the lead. Carling and Higson mounted Tibbals and Tandum and followed.

  “We might as well cross the river here, it’s as good a place as any,” Pik suggested. They all stepped off the bank and into the cold, rushing water.

  Tibbals hesitated, remembering how cold the river was. Slowly, she lowered a long, elegant leg into the stream and shivered. Carling felt sorry for her and stroked her shoulder. By the time they were halfway across, the Fauns were swimming and Tibbals and Tandum were wading through water halfway up their flanks. Tibbals started trembling but kept moving. “Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a hot bath and a soft bed right about now,” she said.

  Carling lowered her leg and dragged her toe in the water. She felt like sharing some of her friend’s misery. The young Duende immediately understood what Tibbals was talking about. She clenched her jaw against the cold.

  Just as they were crossing the deepest part of the river, Tibbals placed a front hoof on a loose rock. The rock tipped and the Centaur’s hoof slipped to the side. Losing her balance, Tibbals went down into the river, taking Carling with her.

  Carling gasped as she went under the surface, sucking in the icy cold water. As the river flowed over and around her, she felt herself tumbling. She quickly became disoriented and didn’t know which way was up. Just as panic set in, she felt her body wedge against something solid. Suddenly, and none too soon, two hands grabbed her breastplate through her flapping tunic and pulled her out of the water. Coughing and choking, Carling was heaved up into the air. She opened her eyes and stared into those of Tandum. He had never looked so handsome!

  “Are you alright, Carling?” Higson cried from where he sat perched tensely on Tandum’s back.

  She coughed and spit out water but nodded.

  Tibbals was soon at her side. “Oh, Carling! I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

  Carling kept coughing up river water but waved her hand and shook her head in an effort to reassure Tibbals that no permanent damage had been done.

  Pik left the shore and swam back to the little group in the middle of the river. “Everything okay here?” he asked, his face expressing concern.

  “If I could stay on my hooves, everything would be fine,” moaned Tibbals.

  Carling caught her breath. “I’m okay, Tibbals. Are you?”

  The filly’s luxurious, long hair and tail hung in stringy, wet strings. “Yes,” she said. “I love an ice cold bath. Let’s get out of here!”

  Tandum cradled Carling in his arms and carefully waded across the remainder of the river.

  The Fauns hurried ahead, weaving through the woods in a southern direction. They spread out in an attempt to conceal their tracks and make it more difficult for the Heilodius Centaurs to follow them. Pik stayed close beside Tandum and Tibbals.

  Tibbals was limping slightly. She had pulled a ligament in her foreleg when she slipped. As a result, Carling sat upon Tandum, right behind Higson, her arms wrapped tightly around him. The smile on the young Duende’s face indicated that he didn’t mind one bit.

  By mid-day, the travelers were weary. But they kept moving forward, spurred on by the fear that the Heilodius Centaurs might be following them. They had no idea where the soldiers might be and could only wish the Centaurs had returned to Fort Heilodius, though no one in the group thought this was likely.

  Just when the travelers decided to pause and rest, the two Fauns who had been traveling in the front turned back around. Facing the group, they held up their hands for silence.

  “There is something going on ahead,” said one.
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br />   “We don’t know what, so we are going to investigate,” said the other. “All of you stay here and lie low.”

  Carling looked around Higson’s shoulder. She felt her pulse quicken. Tandum folded his front legs and lowered his body to the ground. Tibbals did the same. Carling and Higson climbed off Tandum’s back. All of the Fauns sat themselves on the ground, backs to the center of a circle, and peered into the forest around them.

  It wasn’t long before the two advanced scouts returned. Gasping for breath, they made their report.

  “There is a battle going on in the meadow just beyond the edge of the forest,” said one.

  “The Centaurs that were looking for us are fighting a band of Cyclops,” added the other. “It looks like the Cyclops have them greatly outnumbered.”

  Pik stepped forward. “I suggest we go to the edge of the forest, where we can keep an eye on things. I don’t want to be surprised by just sitting here and waiting.”

  Tandum spoke up. “Do you think it’s wise for us all to go? Perhaps I could go with a couple of you and keep an eye on things. I can return quickly if need be.”

  Pik glanced at Tandum. “That is a generous offer, but I would prefer that we remain together. We will stay concealed in the trees.”

  It was decided and the group moved out. Soon they heard the clamors and clashes of the battle. They hurried forward and secreted themselves behind trees and bushes at the edge of the meadow. Each of them had a clear view of the gruesome battle taking place in what would otherwise have been a beautiful, peaceful flower-filled field.

  The Centaurs were experts with the bow and arrow. The weapon of choice for the Cyclops, however, was the Khopesh, also called the sickle-sword. A deadly cross between a sword and a battle ax, it was made from a single piece of bronze and was very heavy. But the Cyclops were big, strong beasts, so wielding their Khopeshes was no problem for them.

  The Centaurs’ arrows, which were designed for fighting from a distance, were perfect for the speed and agility that their four legs afforded them. The Cyclops’ Khopeshes needed to be used close up to their targets, so the Cyclops had to do a lot of running to reach their enemy.

  The Cyclops also made a lot of noise during battle. Their shouts and growls were constant and served to inspire and encourage one another. The Centaurs were much quieter as they galloped around the perimeter of the circle of Cyclops. Other than the pounding of their hooves, they only made sounds when struck, at which point they emitted blood-curdling cries of pain.

  Carling watched with a mixture of fear and disgust. She abhorred violence, and this was violence of the worst kind. “Can’t we do something to stop this?” she whispered to Higson.

  Tandum, hearing her, said, “There is nothing we can do. We are too few in number and unarmed at that. The battle will simply have to play itself out, and the strongest will be the victor.”

  Higson patted her leg. “They have chosen this. Perhaps the quest we are on will put an end to such violence, once and for all.”

  “Let us only hope,” added Tibbals.

  “I fear there will be much more bloodshed before a queen rules the land,” answered Tandum prophetically.

  Chapter 30

  The Battlefield

  The battle carried on into the night. Carling and her companions stayed hidden behind the trees, watching the whole encounter. Carling felt riveted to her spot, fear and foreboding keeping her frozen in place behind a pine tree. She was exhausted to the bone, but she didn’t dare sleep. Looking from side to side, she saw that her companions, too, were awake and keeping their eyes on the battle.

  At some point, a few torches were lit. By whom, Carling couldn’t have said. The torches provided an eerie sort of light and cast giant shadows around the meadow, shadows that danced across and between the trees. From Carling’s vantage point at the edge of the forest, it was clear that the Cyclops were winning the clash. Several of each race now lay dead or dying around the meadow but, since the band of Cyclops greatly outnumbered the Centaurs, there were still plenty of them left to carry on the battle.

  Just before dawn, the fighting abruptly ended. The two Heilodius Centaurs that were still able to gallop on four legs disappeared into the forest just to the west of where Carling was hiding. The Cyclops lowered their Khopeshes and watched them go, deep growls emanating from their chests. Without taking the time to check on their fallen comrades, the Cyclops lumbered off, moving to the south, away from where Carling, Higson, Tibbals, Tandum, and the Fauns were hiding.

  The rising sun ignited the western sky with splashes of pink and gold. The contrast between the beauty of the sunrise and the horror of the battlefield sickened Carling. She reached over and clutched Higson’s hand. He put his arm around her and hugged her tightly. When her nerves and stomach had settled, a new resolve filled her. “Let’s go help them,” she said, motioning with her chin toward the fallen Centaurs and Cyclops, some of whom were still alive and moaning in agony. Higson knew better than to argue.

  Carling took the lead, instructing her troops to spread out over the battlefield to see who could be helped. Many were dead. But there were several who simply needed their injuries treated and bleeding stopped. Soon, clothing was being ripped into strips to make bandages. Some of the Fauns took the job of shuttling water from a nearby stream to quench dry throats and clean wounds.

  Carling set to work on a large, very smelly Cyclops. She had never been near one before, having only seen the one band from a distance as they traveled to Manyon Canyon. She felt herself shiver as she knelt beside him. He lay on his back and moaned pitifully. His hairy arms and legs were matted with blood, and she really wasn’t sure where to begin.

  “What can I do to help you?’ she asked.

  Without opening his eyes, he whispered through cracked and parched lips, “Water.”

  Carling looked around until she located one of the Fauns that had been sent to fetch water. “Over here!” she shouted.

  The Faun came running to her with a flagon of water. Holding it over the Cyclops’ mouth, he let the water drip. The Cyclops opened his large eye and began lapping at the water like a dog. Carling watched, her heart aching with sympathy. When the Cyclops drank as much as he wanted, he dropped his large, horned head back to the ground and closed his eye. He began moaning again. Carling and the Faun used the rest of the water to clean his wounds. Carling took her cape, the only garment she had left other than her tunic, and tore it into strips. She wrapped the Cyclops’ arms and legs tightly to stop the bleeding. Then she gently patted him on the shoulder and moved on to the next injured and barely living warrior.

  A Centaur was lying crumpled up not far away from where she had been working on the Cyclops. Carling moved to his side. He turned his face and Carling jerked back, her hand unconsciously moving up to cover the cut on her arm. This was the same Centaur who had stabbed her with the spear in the Commander’s prison. The wound she bore on her arm was still far from healed.

  “So,” he said in a pain-laden whisper, “you recognize me.”

  Carling nodded.

  “Then pass me by.”

  Carling slowly shook her head. “What can I do to help you?”

  Surprise flashed briefly in his eyes, followed by suspicion. “You would help me? Why?”

  “You’re suffering.”

  He nodded. “That is true.” He sucked in as much breath as his lungs would hold before adding in a soft, raspy voice, “There is nothing you can do. It is too late for me. Move on to someone else.”

  “Don’t talk. You’re too weak. I will clean and dress your wounds.” A Faun brought water and Carling tore up more of her cape. She did her best to bind the Centaur’s wounds. Many thoughts filled her head as she worked, most of them centered around the Stone of Mercy that she wore on her chest. While her arm still bore the wound from this Centaur’s mistreatment, it surprised her that her heart carried no animosity toward him. It occurred to her that mercy must be born of forgiveness, or perhaps the ot
her way around. She wasn’t sure how this all happened, only that it did and it was powerful.

  As Carling worked, the Centaur watched her, his eyes expressing the questions in his heart. When she got up to leave, he reached up for her hand. “I’m sorry that I hurt you,” he whispered.

  Carling squeezed his hand, smiled down at him, and moved on to the next injured warrior.

  Chapter 31

  Journey Home

  After several hours of providing what medical attention Carling and her friends were able to give, they checked one last time on their patients and decided to continue on their journey to the village of Duenton. They still had a long way to go and knew they would be lucky to reach their destination by sunset the following day.

  The experience of watching the brutal battle and attempting to heal the suffering warriors had taken its toll on Carling. She felt both weak and exhausted. She found herself drifting to sleep on the back of Tandum, clutching tightly to Higson. During her waking moments, Carling kept thinking about the power struggle in which she was immersed. Carling was to become the ruler of this entire land. It was a bittersweet realization, for the cost had been the loss of her home and family and everything she had ever known. She was returning to her village, but for how long? She knew the Wizard would send her on another quest to retrieve a second stone, but when?

  The night was uneventful, for which Carling was grateful. Hunger and exhaustion were taking their toll on everyone, so it was good to at least get some rest. The morning dawned with a light cloud cover but no rain, which provided additional relief. They moved out quite early.

  Tibbals’ fetlock, which had been injured during the fall in the river, felt much better after a good night’s rest. “Carling, I’m not limping today,” she said. “You can ride me.”

  “Are you sure that’s wise?”

  “Oh, sure. If it starts to hurt, I’ll tell you and you can go back to Tandum.”

  Carling looked over at Higson. He had a frown of disappointment on his face, and Carling realized he had enjoyed having her arms around him. She smiled to herself as she climbed up on the filly’s back.