Journey's Middle

by B. K. Parent

  With the rise of a half moon, I had enough light to get a vague idea of the area in which I sat. We appeared to be in a small glen surrounded by trees and low brush. I could not hear anything other than an occasional snore coming from near the fire pit. As I slowly turned to my left, I found myself looking into the frightened eyes of the Princess. I am sure my eyes looked just as frightened to her. Neither of us spoke. I tried testing the bonds that held my arms and hands, and nothing gave. I wondered what these folk wanted with us and what had happened to my homewagon. I could not hear horses nearby.

  I was still trying to get my bearings and was concentrating on listening to see if I could hear anything of worth when I heard the sound of someone or something approaching. It turned out to be several someones who rudely woke the others. One of the newcomers seemed to be the leader of this crew and began asking questions.

  “Did you have any trouble?”

  “No, sir. That noorler weed worked just like you said it would, and the locks they had on that homewagon were child’s play. Big cat got away though.”

  I did an internal sigh of relief knowing Carz had escaped, seemingly unharmed.

  “What big cat?” the leader asked.

  “Biggest ol’ cat I’ve ever seen,” the man said.

  “T’was a hunting cat,” a female voice stated. “Bowled Axel over as if he were a feather.”

  “Sprained my right arm, it did,” complained Axel.

  “Other than that, there was no trouble?” the leader asked impatiently.

  “Everything is taken care of. We hid the homewagon like you told us and brought those two here,” the first speaker said, indicating us with a nod of his head.

  “Good. I’ll talk to them in the morning. Then we’ll dispose of them. Having access to a rover homewagon will fit in quite nicely with our plans. Now I’m tired, and morning will be here all too soon. Shane, you take the last watch.”

  The entire group settled once again around the fire, which had been built up. I found myself shivering from the damp cold that had penetrated my clothing, which I was glad I had not changed out of for sleep. Outwardly I tried to look calm, but inside I was screaming for help.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  I needed to calm down for screaming in my head was not going to get me anywhere, or was it? Taking a slow deep breath and then another one, I began to settle, and as I did so the Huntress’ words, when we had parted ways, came back to me. “Be safe, clan friend. Should you ever need, and we are near, concentrate on the firestar gem and call. We will come.” So I concentrated as hard as I could, picturing the firestar gem in my mind, for I certainly was in no position to gaze at it. I hoped I did not need to for my message to get through. I wished I had had more instructions on how to go about this. Did I need to call for the Huntress herself? Did I just send a general call out, and then who did I address it to? Where did I tell them I was? I knew I was in a small glen in a woods, but was it the same woods I had pulled over in? How long had we traveled after being put to sleep by the smoke from the noorler weed?

  It was hard to concentrate on the firestar gem with all the questions tumbling about in my head. So I started saying over and over in my mind. “I’m a clan friend of the Huntress. I’m in a small glen tied to a tree. There are five folk by a fire. Maybe one or more guards in the woods. I need help.” I said it again, and again, until it became a chant, and time blurred. I had to force myself to stay awake.

  I was about to doze off when a gloved hand was placed over my mouth and a whispering amused voice said, “Just a simple yell for help would have done the trick, but we thank you for your information. I am going to remove my hand so I can cut you free. Hold still for the bonds are tight. Once you are loose, I will help you stand up. It will probably be painful. Try not to make a sound.”

  My rescuer was correct. Standing up after having been sitting tightly bound for hours was painful as the feeling returned to my limbs. I chanced a glance to my left and saw that someone had freed the Princess, who was looking at me with a questioning look. How could I let her know that I thought we had been rescued rather than kidnapped by another group? At least I hoped that was true. I tried to smile reassuringly, as we were eased back behind the trees we had been tied to and urged to move further away from the glen.

  “We must hurry for our planned diversion will delay your captors for only so long. Follow me.”

  I grabbed a hold of his sleeve to halt him. “Wait, they have my homewagon. They needed it, not us. We were disposable,” I told my rescuer.

  “Boyce, Quennell, a change of plans. Take the rest of the group, use the diversion to secure the glen and find the homewagon. Bring the captives and the homewagon to the yew grove. We’ll cut across the bog and wait for you there. We need to get these two away from what is about to happen.”

  With that said, the man who had untied me and the woman who was assisting the Princess turned and moved swiftly on while the others, who I had only seen as vague shapes, slid back into the shadows. Trying to keep up on legs that were still not quite steady, I stumbled and put my hand out to try to catch something to break my fall. My rescuer grabbed my arm just as my right hand landed on something warm and furry. Glancing down, I could see it was an animal, but in the dark could not make out just what, when a very soft short purr sounded next to me. Suddenly I felt a whole lot better than I had all night. I would know that sound anywhere.

  I was abruptly pulled to a halt and told to stay quiet. We needed to wait. A moment ticked away, and then two, when suddenly the air was filled with the most frightening and eerie sounds I had ever heard. These were not the sounds of hunting cats, that is for sure. The sounds raised the hair on the back of my neck. Had not the man standing next to me had a very strong grip on my arm, I think I would have bolted away from here as fast as my legs could carry me.

  With the cacophony of noise coming from behind us, my rescuer leaned in and said loud enough for me to hear, “I am Frayne, and my companion is Keelty. Do not be afraid, clan friend. The sounds you hear are not real, but hopefully will create enough chaos to allow us to slip away while my clan members capture those who would tie a clan friend up in our woods. We must hurry now. Please take a moment to assure your fellow rover that we mean no harm and let her know we are about to follow a narrow deer trail down a rather steep hill. At the bottom we will enter the bog. Make sure you both follow in our footsteps, for we are going to be following the animal trails. You will feel the bog move under you, and your boots will sink and get wet. Should you step off the trails, you can find yourself in deep water, so don’t step off.”

  I did as he had asked. I only needed to assure the Princess that we were in friendly hands, for while Frayne was talking to me, the woman helping the Princess had explained about our route to her. Frayne had not been kidding about how steep the way down was going to be. Deer apparently do not need trails as wide as human feet, and I found myself slipping several times. My one thought, strangely enough, once we got to the bottom and entered the bog, was well, this is going to be a true test as to how waterproof the boots are that Shueller made me.

  The journey through the bog made me realize I really needed to do more walking. At home I walked everywhere, but since I had taken to the road, I rode. What walking I did do at the fairs was not long or difficult. Maybe I was being too hard on myself, for walking in a bog was unlike any other terrain I had ever been on. The land beneath my feet moved as my feet sank, and I realized I would not want to stand around in any one spot for too long. I had been tired before we started this walk across the bog, but having to pick my feet up higher than normal and trying to maintain my balance with a body that was stiff from being tied up most of the night increased my fatigue. I had been concentrating so hard on trying to put one foot in front of the other that it took me awhile to notice that the sky was becoming lighter. I could hear Keelty quietly encouraging the Prin
cess to keep walking, that it was only a little ways further. Good news for both of us. I did not think that walking long distances was part of the Princess’ regular daily routine. Knowing how exhausted I was feeling, I could only imagine how she must be feeling. I had to give her credit, for I had not heard one complaint from her, but then perhaps we were both too tired.

  It took me awhile to realize I was walking on solid ground. I vaguely wondered when we had left the bog. The land began to rise slightly, and the trees became denser. By now, I would have been stumbling, wandering in circles probably, if it had not been for Frayne.

  “Just a little ways further,” he said, “and then you can rest.”

  That would be good, I thought. He had not lied, for after several hundred more yards, we came into a campsite which had the look of long use. Frayne led us over to a cook fire and settled us on a long log bench. Almost before my bottom touched the bench, he had a cup of something both liquid and hot in my hands. I just held on, welcoming the warmth that seeped through the clay of the cup.

  “Drink,” Keelty commanded. “It will warm you up and also restore some energy. There is much to talk about.”

  I glanced over to see how the Princess was dealing with being ordered about by a commoner. She just sat hunched over her cup, blowing on it to cool it.

  “Now that we’re in a place where we can talk,” Frayne suggested, “perhaps you would be so kind as to introduce yourself, and explain why we should greet you as a clan friend, beyond the fact that you have a firestar gem that responds to you.”

  “I am Nissa Anissasdatter, and my companion is my cousin’s widow Kiaya Solaugsdatter.” Carz chose this moment to lay himself across my feet so I introduced him also. “The Huntress and I met, and I . . .” I paused at this point because I was not sure how much to tell them, “. . . and I did her a favor. In return, she set the firestar gem I had received as a gift in the setting you see here and called me a clan friend.” I raised my hand so that they could clearly see the ring. “She said I should call if I ever needed help. I thank you for coming when I called. I shudder to think what might have happened if you hadn’t arrived. I hope the rest of your party is alright, and no one was hurt.”

  He seemed to accept my explanation and said, “If you will excuse me, I am also anxious to find how things fared and will be back in awhile. Take time to rest.”

  I glanced over at the Princess to see that she was still hunched over her warm drink and seemed content to say nothing. I was worried about her, and I was worried about what had happened to my homewagon. All that I owned and my best means of traveling, living, and making a living were tied up in that homewagon, for I was sure returning to the cottage in Rumblesea Cove was not an option right at this time. I knew other rovers would take us in, but under the circumstances that would only put more folk in danger since the Princess was just that, the Princess, and not a rover. What a muddled mess this had all become. I think I probably dozed off sitting on that bench, holding my warm drink, for when I took my next sip, it was tepid. I needed to do something, anything, get going, find my homewagon. As these thoughts were running anxiously through my head, Frayne returned to the area where we were sitting.

  “What news?” Keelty asked.

  “All are well, and none where seriously hurt. A few of our folk will have a number of aches and pains, not to mention bruises and a few black eyes. All of your captors are now safely tied up and have responded, albeit reluctantly, to our questions.” Turning to the Princess and me, Frayne said, “You will perhaps be relieved to know that those bandits didn’t want you in particular. They were looking for either a lone trader wagon or a lone rover homewagon to steal, hoping to use it as way to travel away from the area. Seems they have twice failed the Regent, and they were trying to find a way to disguise themselves. Even with heavy encouragement, they would not reveal what those tasks were. They are much more afraid of the Regent than they are of us. Your homewagon has been found, but I am afraid it is not quite as you left it.”

  This did not sound good. “Is there a lot of damage?” I asked.

  “No, no damage. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. The interior of your homewagon seems to be intact, though you will need to check it to make sure nothing was taken. I don’t think they even went in, other than to take the two of you out. Your locks on your cart don’t seem to be broken. No, it is the outside of both your homewagon and your cart that have changed the most. Come, you will want to see for yourself.”

  I got wearily to my feet and followed Frayne with growing trepidation. He led me out of the campsite and down a narrow road to a small side clearing. There stood my homewagon in all of its forest green glory, instead of brown. They had painted my homewagon. Not that I have anything against forest green, but it came as a shock. The homewagon and the cart were now just plain green. The design I had painted on the brown was gone. All through my journey this summer, I had tried to blend in and not call attention to myself. With a plain green homewagon, we would stick out like a sore thumb. No self-respecting rover would be caught dead in a plain homewagon.

  Frayne must have either been reading my thoughts, or knew rovers fairly well, for he said. “Do not despair. We can have it fixed in no time. Several of our folk are very handy with paint, and fortunately your captors had a second color. They must have found your plans and were going to copy them. Sylvester found them under your driver’s seat this morning where they had fallen. Did the Huntress give you the design? That sketch you did will make repainting your homewagon very easy. I am sure your captors didn’t design the plans.”

  Oh, that I knew what he was talking about. I had never made a sketch of my homewagon in my life, much less one that showed a different pattern on it. I followed Frayne around the homewagon over to a young man who was stirring paint and was introduced to him. Acting very nonchalant, I asked to see the plans. Surprisingly, they were on a very small piece of paper. The drawings on the paper were an exquisite rendition of a rover homewagon and cart, side, front, and back views, beautifully drawn with patterns I think of as Neebing patterns, artfully used to create a truly amazing design. That I was that talented to either think up the design, or to draw it, could only be wished for.

  Before I could explain that I had not made the drawing, Sylvester shyly stated, “It will take most of the morning to do justice to this design and finish the homewagon. I hope you don’t mind, but I started it already on this side.”

  Since we had walked around the homewagon to get to Sylvester, I had not noticed that he had indeed started. I had worried that we would be most noticeable in a plain green rover homewagon, but once I had seen the plans, I was even more worried that we would be even more noticeable if my homewagon looked like the plans on the small sheet of paper. I ceased to worry after I saw what Sylvester had done. He had painted the design in a medium brown color that went nicely with the green, but was not overwhelming or bold, but rather subtle. The colors were the reverse of what I had painted on the homewagon, which while looking nice, had been hastily done. If anyone commented about the change in the look of my homewagon, it could be easily explained, since we had been off the fair circuit for a week. The only problem was getting the painting done, letting it dry, and still getting to Lambkin fair yet this day, as we had planned. It would not do to try and drive a homewagon with still wet paint. It would be coated with bugs, dirt, and other road debris before we were a mile down the road. I mentioned this to Frayne, explaining that we were expected at the Lambkin fair, and friends would worry if we did not arrive this day.

  Upon seeing how anxious I was about getting back on the road, he told me not to worry. Sylvester would sketch in the lines, and others would do the painting. Meanwhile, Kiaya and I could get a few hours of sleep. I told him to save us some of the painting, so we could truthfully answer that we had indeed painted the homewagon. He said he would. As we walked back to the campsite, we talked about t
he forest we were in. Frayne told me that he and his folk had been here a little over half a year, trying to manage the forest and to clear out pockets of poachers and other riffraff who had been pestering both animals and humans along this way for far too long. He was only sorry they had not noticed the ones who had waylaid us sooner. We were still talking on this subject when we reached the campsite. The Princess and Keelty were talking and we joined them.

  “I was just telling Kiaya what we were doing here, and about how we have been shuffled about these last few years at the Crown’s request, which has made our job much more difficult. The Queen understood the forest clans and our loyalty to both the Crown and our home forest. The Regent and the Princess do not. Nothing good will come of all this moving about. No consistency. Oh, don’t mind me. That’s just homesickness talking. I miss the trees of home.”

  I looked over to see how the Princess was reacting to what Keelty was saying, since her words and tone were not favorable to the Regent, or her, but she kept a straight face. I told Kiaya and Keelty about the homewagon, and then did not have to feign tiredness to get us excused to rest.

  It was well past noon when we thanked our rescuers and headed towards Lambkin. We would hopefully not face anymore delays and get there before the town gates closed for the night. Frayne had told us that the Regent was enforcing a curfew at dusk. Kiaya chose to ride sitting at the top of the front steps, which put her out of sight but within talking distance. She had been quite quiet since our rescue, and I was concerned about her.

  “Are you alright back there?” I asked.

  “I am fine, but I am beginning to realize there is so very much I do not know about Sommerhjem. I had never heard of the Günnary. I knew the Crown had foresters, but I did not know they were made of clans and had home forests. I knew little of rovers. I did not know that folks do not like me.”