The time that followed was a blur of pain and sweat and heat, such heat, his head, his arms, his body, all hot, too hot, he pushed off blankets, and stumbled out of bed, fell to the floor. It was dark. The moon hung high in the sky outside of his window, shining down. He was thirsty, but when he tried to drink from a pitcher by his bed, his stomach recoiled like a clenched fist, and he spit it all back up, onto the floor. He needed to cool down. He pressed his body to the stone floor, but it was not enough, so he moved toward the stairs.
He stumbled down and out into the night, clutching the swath of cotton at his side. No matter what he did it ached, move or no. He had thought enough to bring a blanket which he wrapped around himself when the cool air quickly made him shiver. His feet were cold, and he looked down to see a dusting of snow covered the ground. It was snowing, large clumps of flakes falling from the sky. He took the blanket off again, he needed to get cool. He stumbled through the yard, toward the forest at the edge.
Before he knew what he was doing, he was moving through the trees. He pulled the blanket around his body again, as he started to grow chill. His legs grew tired and his mind numb. His head swam and then he was falling. He hit his head on something hard, and then he was looking up at a tall oak tree, as the world started to spin.
The next thing Nikolis remembered was a dizzying sense of vertigo washing over him, as if his world was turning end over end. A deep chill ran through his bones. When he managed to open his eyes, to process his surroundings, it was day again. He saw snow-covered hills, and bare trees. But what was most odd about them is they appeared to be up-side-down.
He heard footsteps approaching, looked up and saw his legs beyond which there were tree branches. Then he heard voices. “What’d you get?” someone asked.
A laugh. “Notta bear,” said another, thicker voice.
“What?” asked the first. He heard the forms get closer, tried to twist about to see them. It was then that he realized his foot was stuck in a small snare. He was hanging by his leg from a tree branch.
“Heh, a boy,” said the other.
“A boy?” asked the first. “Get him down.”
Nikolis heard metal scrape on leather. Saw a glimpse of steel in sunlight. Then something was being cut and the rope that held him was shaking. He twisted around and squirmed, tried to see. What was going on? Who were these people and what were they going to do to him?
He heard a snap and then he was falling. The snow rushed up to meet him and all was dark.
When he started to wake up again, the world was dark again, and at first, he thought he was blind. But then things became clearer, and he could make out the sky. It was moonless, and he lay beneath the same oak tree. Climbing to his feet, he looked around. No one was there. Had they left? Perhaps that was for the best…
Then he heard something. Something far off, something distant, but it was approaching. He heard the crunch of snow under foot, heard a sound as if something large was trampling toward him. Spinning about, he searched for the source of the noise. Should I run? Should I hide?
He started to trudge ahead, but then realized the trampling was coming from that direction. He spun about and started to move in the opposite direction, but the sound was coming from there as well. He turned left and ran, started to run this way and then that, but no matter what direction he moved in, the sound grew louder, grew closer. What was he going to do? He looked toward the oak, at its tall, high-reaching branches. Could he climb the tree? It was worth a try. He had to escape.
Grabbing hold of a low branch, he tried to pull himself up. The sound was getting louder. His arms strained, his feet scraped against the bark of the tree trunk, pushing and pulling. Something was coming. He dared to look around and saw a large, black mass, teeth and claws bared, coming toward him.
Breath wouldn’t come. He managed to swing up into the oak just as the creature crashed forward. It hit the trunk with a force that shook him where he sat, nestled between two branches. Below the bear bared its sharp fangs, and clawed at the tree bark, scraping away large coils of wood. The bear grasped at the trunk and snapped its maw at him.
Suddenly it sunk its claws into the bark – carefully, methodically. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, but the bear was actually starting to climb the tree. The boy looked about, searched for a higher branch to climb to. He found one, and then another, and started to move up into the tree. However, no matter how fast he moved, the bear advanced as quickly. The creature kept coming, snapping branches as it went, but climbing the tree right below him.
Finally, the boy came to a point where he could climb no further. The branches were too thin. The bear kept coming. It swatted at him; pushed itself up branch after branch with muscled legs and arms of grasping claws. The boy looked up and tried to move further on. He pushed against limbs that bent under his weight, tried to climb higher, but it was no use. As he stood on a thin branch, he heard a crack, and then a snap. His feet let out from under him and all that kept him up was a small branch that he managed to grasp onto.
The creature kept coming. The limbs of the tree were bending under its weight, but still it came. It snapped its maw at the boy, nearly on him. It reached up and clawed for his dangling legs. He moved down the branch, out away from the trunk, away from the beast.
The bear moved too, and the boy kept edging out. The branch started to bend under his weight. Another crack sounded out into the night and then another snap. The branch let go and suddenly he was falling again, end over end. The ground below rushed toward him, but this time instead of impacting he fell through the white powder, and kept going, flailing and spinning and falling into darkness…
Voices sounded off in the darkness. They were distant, but somewhat familiar. Not friendly, only, he thought he had heard them before. “Why did you do that?” one was saying.
“You told me to,” said another.
“Not like that!” said the first. “Why would you…”
“Never mind. Look, I think he’s waking.”
“What…hello? Boy?”
Nikolis opened his eyes.
Two men loomed above him and for a moment he panicked. The sky was dark, as it had been before, but there was warmth coming from off to his side, and a reddish glow illuminated everything. He tried to sit up, but his body ached all over.
“Take it slow,” a calm, kind, voice said. It came from a man, young in appearance, dressed all in white. He wore fine breeches and boots, and had a long cloak draped over his shoulder. He nearly blended with the snow around them. His hair was red, and his eyes were a deep earthen color. “Take it easy,” he said again.
“Took quite a fall there,” the other figure said. He was tall and had a thick black beard. Broad of shoulder and wide, he was dressed in furs and leathers and had a large belt about his waist. “Sorry about that.”
“What…” Nikolis started, “what happened?”
“You were caught in one of Melichor’s snares,” the man in white said. “Purely by accident I promise you.”
“Was only trying to catch a bit to eat,” the larger man added.
“Yes,” the white man said, “we meant you no harm.”
Nikolis tried to sit up again, managed to push himself up onto his elbows. He was covered in a dark, thick blanket, below a tall maple tree. There was a fire blazing in a small pit, with a large iron pot suspended above it, bubbling over with something thick and brown and smelling good.
“Who are you?” Nikolis asked, turning back to the two strange men.
“My companion here is a simple huntsman,” said the white man. “He is called Melichor. And I…I am just a simple man.” The red-headed fellow smiled. “Some call me Liad. We are but travelers. We never meant to cause you any trouble. Melichor, get the boy something to eat.”
The large man moved over to the pot and filled a bowl. Nikolis didn’t know if he could eat, but when he smelled the aroma of the thick broth again, his stomach got the better of him. He devoured the soup quic
kly, burning his mouth and throat as he did, but it couldn’t be helped. Suddenly he felt as if he hadn’t eaten in days. Melichor got him a second helping when he’d finished the first, and he gulped that down as well.
“What is your name?” Liad asked him when he had finished. “Where do you come from?”
“My name is Nikolis. I live at Highkeep. The King’s castle.” He furrowed his brow in thought. “What are the two of you doing in the King’s wood?”
Liad and Melichor looked at one another in confusion. “What do you mean?” asked Liad.
“You…we…we’re in the wood behind Highkeep. The King’s castle.”
“Perhaps we wandered too far?” Liad ventured.
Melichor shook his head. “I’ve haven’t steered us wrong in how many years? We’re on the right course.”
“Are you sure you were in this king’s wood?” Liad said to him.
Nikolis found it odd how the man said this king’s wood. What other king was there? “I’m sure,” said Nikolis. “I wandered for a bit, but I couldn’t have gone too far. I never crossed the moat.”
“Moat?” asked Liad. “What moat?”
“The moat that surrounds all of Highkeep,” Nikolis explained. “It goes around the front, between town and keep, and then about the practice yard in the back, and through the wood.”
“We saw no river,” said Melichor.
Liad scratched his chin. “I wonder…”
“One of Old Mag’s tricks?” asked Melichor.
The man in white shook his head. “No, I think not.”
“Who’s Old Mag?” asked Nikolis.
“She’s an old, tricky wi–”
“Never mind Magwen,” Liad said, shooting a glare toward his companion. “She’d not come to one so young. No, she only comes to those at the crossroads of their life.”
Nikolis had no idea what the pair was talking about. They seemed nice enough, but decidedly odd. Tall Melichor and the large hunting knife belted at his waist made him shiver. The red-headed man dressed all in white seemed nice enough, but there was something strange about him. Something odd, something different.
“What do you do at this keep?” asked Liad.
“I’m learning the sword.”
“The sword, hm?” said Melichor, glaring at Nikolis “A heavy burden that.”
“A great responsibility,” said Liad. “Why do you seem unsure?”
Nikolis thought for a moment, and then said, “It’s a hard choice. To live the rest of my life guarding someone. My father was a guard, and well…he didn’t come to the best of ends…”
The man in white laughed. “Ah, Nikolis. So young, and yet a mind full of worries already. Your decisions now will not dictate the rest of your life, believe me. Do not worry so much on small decisions such as these.”
Nikolis didn’t think it was such a small decision, but just hearing someone saying that made him start to think about things differently. He was not his father; he could pave his own way. Perhaps other things would come along in life. How could he know in what manner events so far down the road would turn out?
“Well, I suggest we sleep,” Liad said, after a time. “You have had a long day, and a terrible fall. We will wait until the morning to sort this out. Perhaps you can take us to this castle, so that we might see it for ourselves.”
“Alright,” said Nikolis, and pulled his blanket around him. He lay back down on the ground and continued to mull things over. Liad bedded down as well, while Melichor stood against the trunk of a tree and looked out into the night.
“Strange forces at work, tonight,” said Melichor, under his breath. He looked up at the full moon above. “Strange forces.” Nikolis shivered, pulled the blanket tighter around his body, and was soon asleep.
When morning came, Nikolis’ eyes fluttered open. His side ached, but his fever seemed to have subsided. He looked up to see the long branches of a familiar tree. However, he soon realized that it wasn’t the maple above him, but the oak again. He tried to stand but fell back down on weak legs. The campsite of the night before was seemingly gone, as were the two companions.
He heard footsteps from behind. “Nikolis?” a voice said. Was it them? Were they back? Nikolis craned his head around. Up on a hill, Garley stood, smiling down at him. “He’s over here!” he yelled, running down the hill toward him.
Jak and Raife came to the top of the hill soon after and ran down to Garley’s side. “Nik, where have you been?” asked Jak.
“We’ve been looking for you since yesterday,” said Raife. “We thought for sure you’d run off or gotten caught somewhere. What happened? Where did you disappear to for two days, in your state?”
It hadn’t been two days, had it? How could that be possible? Nikolis started to tell them what he had seen and done, going through the events as best as he could remember them, his head as foggy as it still was.
“Liad and Melichor?” Raife asked, when Nikolis had finished the story. “Is that a jest?”
In fact, all of his friends were looking at him with some measure of confusion or skepticism. Nikolis looked at them, brow furrowed. “What?”
“Lord Liad and the Huntsman?” asked Garley.
Nikolis shook his head. He had no idea what they were talking about.
“Melichor Oakwise and the Lord of Snow,” said Jak. “It’s a story, Nick. We’ve all heard it. I must’ve been four years old when my ma first told it to me.”
He looked from one of them to the other. They all nodded their heads. Nikolis scratched his own. Perhaps the men he met had just taken the names from the story. However, as his friends started to talk to him more about the tales, it appeared the men he had encountered fit the descriptions of the tales exactly. White cloak, red hair, furs and a large hunting knife. He couldn’t explain any of it.
“Perhaps you bumped your head harder than you thought,” said Raife, with a smile.
Well, Nick, we’d better get you back,” said Jak. “Drennen’s been looking for you. He’s been questioning all of us relentlessly.”
Jak and Garley helped him to his feet. They started to move a few steps with him, but then a sour feeling rose up in his stomach again, and his head grew light, and the world started to spin anew…
Nikolis awoke this time to find Toleah Simms sitting over him, dressing the cut at his side and babbling on about this or that. It had been days, he learned, since he had last been awake. Toleah prattled over him, adjusting pillows or bedding, and continually asking him if he were comfortable or if he needed anything. The years had not changed her much since they had first met, but she smiled now, more often than she grimaced. He found her to be, continually, very close to him. Her body pressed closed to his, as she sat at his side. It occurred to him that she was far closer than was necessary, far too often.
“Get some rest,” she told him when she had finished her task. Then she stood, smiled, and left the room. He got up and tested his leg. Every move he made seemed to pull the skin around the wound, but he forced himself to keep walking. He made his way downstairs and out into the yard. The looks of surprise on some of the boys’ faces, as he walked among them, made the effort worth the while. Let them underestimate me, they always have.
All the nobles’ children were at individual practice today, training their strength by lifting rocks or sacks of grain, or their dexterity by jumping in and out of several circles of wood that Drennen had fashioned with the aid of the keep’s cooper. He was roaming about the field as usual, talking to recruits or guardsmen, keeping them in line and moving about with stern vigilance.
Nikolis got what exercise he could, but he was still limited in his movement. One false step and his wound might open and begin to bleed again. Any would call him a fool to be up and about so soon.
Jak found his way over after some time, patting him on the shoulder. “The human pin-cushion,” he said, with a laugh. “Ye’re always finding ways to get yerself into trouble.
They talked for some time, and whe
n midday came found their way to the kitchens. Garley and Raife were hard at work, but they looked about for Master Littlefield, and not finding him, decided to take a break. They all sat at a long wooden table, scarred over the years by the marks of knife and fork. They feasted on meat and cheese and bread, and talked of times past and those ahead.
Garley and Raife still worked the kitchens, and despite Jak’s fair ability with a sword, he had not yet been asked to begin training. So, they all looked to Nikolis, and wanted to hear stories from him of his days and trials. It would still be some time before those training were asked to accept posts as gate guards or city watchmen. The worst of the bunch would be sent north, to Terloch Towers, to defend the realm from reportedly unending raids. Nikolis could only hope to be asked to join the house guards, where his preference for light armor and armament, would fit well.
After the friends had sat for some time in the kitchens, Evar and Lirk appeared, wearing red and white. Evar clapped Nikolis on the back and said, “Doing well at your training I hear.” He didn’t even mention the encounter with Erad, only flashed his winning smile.
“Getting his guts spilled all over the practice yard is how I hear it.” Lirk grinned, taking a seat at the table. He grabbed at a loaf of bread, ripped off a piece and stuffed it into his mouth.
“Far better than what I hear of you,” Raife put in. “Word has it that while everyone else’s skill increases, only the roundness of your belly does.”
Lirk reached across the table and swatted at Raife, who nimbly avoided the blow, which only ended up smacking Garley across the forehead.
“Ouch!” Garley yelled, rubbing at his wound. “Watch it Lirk, that hurt!”
Master Littlefield stuck his head out of his office at the commotion and shot them all a glare. “Garley, Raife, back to your chores. The rest of you clear out of here. This isn’t the dining hall.”
The Last Swordsman Page 14