by P. S. Power
“About a day per tree. These things are huge. The red kind that will grow forever if you leave them be that long. I don’t suppose you have any tricks for this, do you? We’re barely able to pull the smallest of the things off the road. Anyone setting something like this up will have some other plans for us, at the same time.” There was a certainty to the words that sounded very confident.
Anders wasn’t that certain, but could see that going along with that idea, that they needed to overnight in a different place, was the right one. Even if Sir Humphrey hadn’t ordered him to make that possible, in a direct fashion.
After a moment of thinking, he nodded his head.
“I might be able to knock them into smaller portions. I doubt I can float things that heavy off the road. Not directly. If we combine making them smaller with people using oxen and ropes?” The truth was that he didn’t know if it would work that well, but he was willing to try.
The knight simply looked at him, his eyes a bit dead inside. After a while, seeming a bit gruff for some reason, the man moved his horse away.
“Get to that then, as soon as possible. I want us back underway inside the hour, so hurry your steps.” He rode off at a trot, as if something in the conversation had personally offended him.
Anders didn’t understand what that might be. Farad had a thought that way, in that the man had put out a casual question, one that most boys should have simply had to shake their head at, and answered with an idea that could, possibly, work. If so, the man probably hadn’t been feeling upset at all. He’d been hiding his real response, whatever that was.
Anders didn’t get to run straight off to help as he might, since he had to flag down someone else to watch his wagon and the meat cart for him. It was interesting, but the person that came to do that was actually Mary. She grinned at him, and eyed the back of the wagon as she climbed up onto the driver’s bench.
“I suppose you could use magic to learn if I take anything, can’t you?” She seemed a bit disgruntled over the idea. As if that kind of thing might be her due and he was cheating, preventing her from doing it.
Smiling, he nodded.
“True. Still, I have to know to look. I missed this thing with the road being blocked. That... Anyway, thank you. I need to run to the front and see if I can help at all.” He waved to her as he ran off, using a good bit more speed than was probably needed, just for some downed trees.
The trick there was that Sir Humphrey was in charge. That meant his suggestions needed to be taken as orders. Even if he was being casual seeming about what he requested.
When he jogged to the front, the first wagon about sixty feet back from the five remaining trees on the road, Anders understood something that he hadn’t before. Some trees, it seemed, could grow to a rather tremendous size. They looked fairly normal, when standing, but at least two of the things that laid across the dirt path were as high as his mid chest. For some reason he’d figured that they’d be smaller. Like normal trees that ten or twelve strong men could lift and that an ox or a few horses, could certainly pull out of place.
The one tree that was laying to the side of the road already was of good size, but also truly was the smallest of the things there. His plan had been to simply batter the things, with a few quick explosions, roughly cutting them up. What was in front of him at the moment would take hours to get through that way. Wincing, he shook his head.
“All right. I need to do this differently. It’s going to take a real spell. Give me... just a bit.” He closed his eyes, going over what was needed. Oddly, he had the basics inside of himself, already. He’d never used his abilities for anything even close to what he had planned, but when he opened his eyes, not too long later, he took a deep breath.
Pointing at the biggest of the trees, the red bark seeming easily splintered, he began to speak of his plan.
“Seve nik- ere ot ere- ona miffen inna- fen.” There was no waiting to see the effects, which simply cracked the wood with a single snap. A loud thing that made a single line in the thick trunk. Moving about a foot away, he did it again, then repeated the single spell, over and over again. Getting faster at it, even while his breathing began to come in huge gulps and painful exhalations.
Sweat poured from him, a little over an hour later, when he got to the last tree. That was, a bit lazily, cut in only four pieces, being it was the smallest remaining one there. The men and women didn’t whine about the large sections, simply working together to shift everything out of their way. The Caravan Master walked over to him, and slapped him on the shoulder.
“Get back to your position, as soon as you can. We’ll be moving inside ten minutes. Call to move out! Ready!” The man bellowed the words, which had most of the people scrambling back to their own places, in the line. A few of them simply waited though, since they had reliable drivers who would be coming to meet them.
Anders didn’t know if Mary could actually drive the wagon at all. Rather than test that, he forced himself to walk, feeling half ready to fall down from his recent efforts. It was a different sense of things than helping people heal had been, but still obviously taxing to his personal energy.
It would require him to both rest for a bit to recover, and eat more. A thing that he could do, when he got to the wagon. Failing to make up for the energy expended would cost him, later.
Not that he did that instantly. He was at the wagon before they started moving, but it was all he could do to drag himself up into the seat, next to the woman. She smirked at him, at first, then blinked as she realized he wasn’t playing at being tired.
“What’s the situation? You look about done in.” She swallowed, as if the words might make him upset with her or something.
He managed a weak smile.
“I used magic to cut up some trees. They were rather large. I need to eat, soon. I just don’t have the energy to reach behind me and get anything. I know, that’s pretty lazy of me.” Turning, he tried to move from the seat, which was starting to work when the woman simply slipped into the wagon and pointed at things.
“Where is the food you need? We don’t have time to cook anything. Not with the call to move being out.” She seemed to be considering that as possible, otherwise.
Anders pointed at the large canvas sack with the gosberries in it. They were a bit sour, but not too bad and were big enough to hold in his hand, the fuzzy tan and green skin was even edible. When she pulled it around, she simply brought the whole thing to the front seat, not even looking inside.
He was able to do that much, and, as Mary drove, a thing she seemed to have no issues with at all, he started to eat. It was the stretching of his middle that got him to stop, some twenty minutes later, not running out of the fruit. Most of it was even left.
“I’m done, for now. Here we go. Our friendly trees.” He sighed as he waved at them. After a moment, the woman next to him cursed.
“Damn. Anyone willing to bring down even one of those beasts to slow us down means something serious. Are we going to have soldiers fall on us, do you think?”
He didn’t know, but shrugged.
“Let me see? I need to be a bit more careful than I was last time. That...” The truth was he felt foolish, having missed a pile of giant logs in the road like that.
No one had scolded him for it, but it was his task to check on things, to make certain they didn’t drive right into a trap.
Closing his eyes, he dropped into a trance and searched, then did it again and again. Aimed at dozens of different targets.
He found some things, but none of them spoke of a military group falling on them. Not yet, at any rate.
Chapter nine
Anders reflected on the first week of travel, sitting on the bench of his wagon. It swayed in a comforting pattern, for the time being. They were, he thought, making good time that day. On the fifth day, it had started raining, which meant that the sixth day had been spent traveling no more than a few miles, through ankle deep mud. A combination of the sky not cr
ying on them and the road simply being on an angle aided them, at the moment. The ground was still damp, but they weren’t all in danger of sinking to their axles.
Each day he’d collected honey, finally breaking down and making a name for honeycomb that worked to assist him in calling that kind of thing to himself. He was careful not to take too much from any given area, since that would starve the bees all winter. Still, he collected not one, but five full barrels of honey. They were vast things, each in a different wagon.
Rofer Keen handled that for the both of them. The barrels were, technically, being rented, for a share of the honey inside of them. Not a lot of it, either. Generally, no more than a pound’s worth, which given the size of the things wasn’t that bad of a price. Still, they were out of space for such things and not traveling far enough each day to collect enough greens or roots, without denuding the general area they were in. They had enough, if they could keep up the pace they were at the moment.
Sir Daniel had gone back to being a knight, full time, leaving the wagon tending duties to Anders and Ery. The Prince was much more fond of riding when he could, so was doing that at the moment. He stayed close to the wagon and the small cart, however. Not just in case Anders needed to go into the woods, either. That too, of course.
It was mainly that, when people had to work harder each day, their minds turned toward doing some dire things. Strange ideas, like taking from the small boy with the wagon, had passed more than one person’s thoughts, over the last days. On the nice side, they had guards out, which had stopped there from being too much of that sort of thing, so far.
Rofer, the would be rapist, had given up his plans, at least for the time being. He’d understood that Anders was simply taking his thoughts, measuring them and that the boy, even if the idea seemed impossible, could best him in a fight. At least using magic. The man held to the idea that he might be able to challenge the little child if it simply came to blows. There was simply too great of a size difference.
Though, Anders walked around in mail and thick gambeson, all the time as far as the other man knew. That sort of indicated that he was prepared to fight, if nothing else. Also, that he might be harder to hurt than an unarmored man would be.
After mid-day, when all of the squires, knights and princes had come by to get their mid-meal from the wagon, which was fresh bread, berries and small portions of cheese that day, Ery finally tethered his horse to the wagon and climbed over.
“I can drive for a while. I probably shouldn’t stick you with all of it. I want to, of course, but I shouldn’t.”
There was a sense of calm friendship in the offer, so Anders nodded, a bit too eagerly.
“I need to check ahead of us again. The road is drying, but I don’t like that those men are still out there.” The ones that had dropped trees in their path. They’d stayed about five miles away from them, to the right, but that morning when he’d checked, the men had started to ride in their general direction. That might not mean anything, but they were ahead of them and headed back toward the road already.
So far, everyone seemed to think that he was being strange, watching those men as closely as he was. Everyone except Sir Humphrey and Prince Robarts. Those two men figured it a job well done, that he made certain they weren’t going to be ambushed too easily. He also had to keep in touch with the castle. Each morning, for the last three, he’d been tasked with passing messages to the front. It was only the one person getting the information, so far. Captain Horner. Anders didn’t know anyone else there yet, which was the point of him traveling that way.
When the reins were taken from his fingers, Anders held his place, and then closed his eyes, focusing on first clearing it, to sit in the blackness of his thoughts, then he struck outward, tracking people, finding out what was going on back home and searching the road ahead of them. There was more honey in the area, as well as more bitters and herbs. The roots he wanted didn’t seem available, however. What he did find was that the six men that wanted to stop them were planning to flood the road, ahead, by taking out a small damn.
He also noticed a large collection of wild swine. From the sense of them, they were well fed and large, but nearly at the point ahead that the men were heading toward. There was a river in that area, along the road, on the left side.
When he opened his eyes, he nodded at Ery.
“Can you watch things for a while? I need to ride ahead and see to some things. There are some pigs, more greens and even some more honey, if I can manage it all right. We’re nearly out of room for the sweets though...”
The Prince rolled his eyes at that idea.
“You should get some of that anyway, to give to Mary and your other friends. It’s important to ply women with trinkets and sweets. At least if you want them to do interesting things with you.” That was teasing, plain and simple.
Anders snorted at the idea.
“That isn’t my goal there. Still, that might not be a poor idea. If nothing else, it might show that working with us is worth doing? I don’t know that’s totally true, but...” So far it truly had been. Even Anders understood that. He’d done a lot to help everyone with them. It was enough that he was starting to feel weary. Getting up each day was starting to be a problem. Not that he could sleep well, on the ground or curled up on top of goods in the wagon.
Even being young the nights were an exercise in waking to shift, toss and turn, unable to be comfortable. The only reason he didn’t complain about it was that he understood everyone else was going through the same thing. Some of the older people would have it even worse. Age and time had taught him that lesson.
Being old was a thing to avoid, if at all possible. True, it came with wisdom, or at least the chance to earn that sort of thing. That didn’t really outweigh the pain and discomfort of it, to his way of thinking. Then, Farad had literally died. That had been the worst of it. He’d faced the fact that he wasn’t going to be any longer and then opened his eyes again.
Not that it mattered at the moment. He had some things to see to, which were more important than his feeling a bit worn by the travel.
Brownie was wearing her saddle already, since she traveled that way, in case he needed to ride at a moment’s notice. It had come up a few times, normally when it came to sorting out the bitters and herbs for those with them. This time, when he clambered back into the sturdy wagon, being careful not to step on vulnerable or fragile things, he moved directly to the good girl horse, who was following, tied loosely to the right and side of the wagon. She whinnied a bit when he got on her back. It was welcome sounding, instead of a complaint about carrying the extra weight he represented.
“I’ll be back in... Well, it depends. I need to talk to Sir Humphrey. It could be some hours. I should be back before dark, regardless.”
The Prince made a sour face, not wanting to be saddled with the wagon like that, or possibly the cooking, but he could do both, if it was needed. Rather than whine about either of those things, the boy, who was often better at many things than Anders was, simply shook his head.
“You found something? Bandits... Only, no. The men you were watching. The saboteurs.” There was a certain level of certainty to the words, even if the boy sounded young at the same time.
Anders smiled at him.
“That’s the one. Some wild pigs as well, in the same direction. They plan to wash the road out, to slow us down. I was thinking that I might ask them not to do that. That will work. I mean, if I bow well enough and smile while I make the request?” Anders normally didn’t bother with sarcasm, but it worked in this case. Well enough that Prince Erold snorted at him.
“Well, don’t be a fool about it. Take others with you and ambush them, if at all possible. I know that lacks in honor, but it works and we need to survive, in order to fight later.” The boy was sober after a moment. His head shook just a little bit, negating his previous words. “That sounds cowardly, doesn’t it? Fight from ambush? Take superior forces with you, instead of standin
g like a true warrior...”
Blinking a bit, looking over at the other boy while he untied the slightly damp leather of the reins, it was Anders’ turn to shake his head.
“I’m not a warrior.” He spoke softly on the matter, feeling the words as if they had real, tangible, weight. “I’m not even a wizard or a magician. At best I’m a message boy, and not much more than that. True, one doing that with magic, which is special enough for twelve, but I’m not a grand fighter.” That should have gotten the other man to nod, given how he personally had beaten Anders every time they’d practiced together but there was only a slightly strained look, instead.
“Perhaps you aren’t, yet. You’ve improved a lot in only a single season and have real use here, even on the road. That gives the lie to just being a messenger, at least. I know that I’m dreading the thought of trying to fix the evening meal alone, so hurry back. Safely.” There was a hard look then, on the last words.
A thing that got Anders to simply agree. It was the better part of wisdom, regardless of the age of the source of it.
“I may not be going anywhere. I hope so. We need more greens, if nothing else.” Nuts and fruit as well, if he could find them.
Rather than talk about the plan, which wasn’t much of one yet, he guided Brownie around, gently, the girl doing most of the work for them, being superbly trained. He hadn’t realized it on the last trip that he’d taken, but the King hadn’t just lent him two horses, he’d let him have the use of two fine, well trained, war horses. For some reason, Farad had always assumed that such things would be harder to manage. These girls were both sweet, steady and didn’t balk at doing what was asked of them, however.
It took about ten minutes to find Sir Humphrey, who was riding near the front of the column, his eyes scanning the road for threats. He nodded, a bit grumpily, at Anders, when he rode up.
“Heading out on a hunt? You don’t have your bow with you.”
That was the truth, since he didn’t really want to use either of his war bows in the damp weather, if he could help it. It was possible for him to dry them out, using magic, but the truth was that he’d been taking the animals he’d gotten by magic alone, over the last few days. It meant he couldn’t send spells as far away from him, of course.