Chapter 13
Night visitor
Next morning, Nevin awoke to the stirring of people and the smells of a breakfast meal. It had not been a restful night. The straw bedding and ample blankets were adequately comfortable, but the combination of exhaustion and excitement had made for a fitful night.
As the immediate environment came back into focus, Nevin saw that he was still in the cave grotto. Amid the tables and chairs, he recollected the faces of the men and women around him. Some were engaged in quiet conversation and others moved about with assigned tasks. A few acknowledged him to ask if he slept well. Cresten handed him a mug that contained some type of hot herbal brew that smelled pleasant and tasted even better.
As Nevin enjoyed his drink, Anson came over and said, “I would like to leave as soon as possible for Sartell, Sir Nevin. Are you willing to leave in haste?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Good. One of the local farmers, a man named Faldon, will transport us in his wagon. It is more than twenty leagues northwest to the First City of Sartell and it will probably be a five day journey.”
Traveling so many days by wagon gave Nevin some misgivings, but he supposed he had to get used to slower transportation. Orris joined them. The Antrim soldier had a very determined look, but seemed a little spryer than yesterday. If his arm wound was truly less troublesome, then this man must have great recuperative powers. Orris spoke right to the point, “I have given much thought to your plan for speaking with the King about a truce with Gilsum. A Captain of the King’s Armsmen can help your mission in many ways. I wish to join you. With a mage, a sage and one of the King’s most grisly soldiers, we would make a formidable alliance.” The soldier’s grim face slowly gave way to a sly smile. “What’ll it be?Are we three an alliance for Antrim?”
Anson laughed and slapped Orris on the back. The soldier winced a little, but heard what he wanted to hear. “Well, the mage says yes. What says the sage?”
“It’s fine by me,” Nevin said. “The more the merrier.”
Nevin’s spirits brightened some at the prospect of keeping company with both of these likable characters. Besides, he could keep an eye on Orris’ arm and be sure the infection did not get out of control. When everyone had eaten a filling breakfast of grain cereal and milk, the trio left single file through the earthen corridor to the bright sunshine outside.
Once outside the cave opening, Nevin scrambled up the embankment and stopped abruptly as his head cleared the top. Standing several feet away in awed silence were about two hundred people—villagers from Huxley, all staring at him. Apparently, word had traveled quickly that Anson had returned with an unusual companion. Anson had heralded this stranger as “Nevin the Reasoner,” a man with great powers of the mind with vast knowledge, and it did not take long before that reputation started to grow.
As he completed his ascent up the gully, the gathering of villagers gave a collective gasp as they saw the rumor was indeed true. Their eyes beheld a fair-skinned man, truly six feet tall who must be the weight of two men. The crowd started to buzz excitedly that here was a fit champion for Huxley. Someone murmured he must be one of the legendary High Mages, and several nodded in agreement. A group of children started an argument whether he could slay fifty or hundred attackers with a single death spell; this grand estimate was corrected by a more sober adult who said only a score of men could be slain so.
Orris and Anson moved over to stand with Nevin, which gave rise to more whispered remarks at the improved health and vitality Orris showed. Some pointed at the white cloth bandage on Orris’ left arm and their eyes grew wide at another rumor turned true. It was said that this strange visitor could heal a life-threatening sword wound with nothing more than white cloth, hot water and moldy cheese. What a tale for the ages! The story of this day would pass down from parent to child, though no one could imagine how the story might end. The excited murmur rose until Anson took a step forward and raised his hands to quiet the crowd.
“Friends of Huxley! I have returned from another land where things in many ways are very different. There, people have machines that allow them to fly as birds. In their homes they have glass boxes where you can see images and hear voices of people living far distances away. Though they have wondrous things in that land, it is a frightful place. They have suffered horrors from war beyond anything we have experienced; their weapons and war machines are so terrible that the amount of death and destruction is unimaginable.”
Nevin blanched at this observation.
Anson continued, “I have learned from my journey that even though our war with Gilsum has been slow and gradual over years, we have just begun to see the worst. We will not survive as a nation or a village or even as families, if we do not find a way to end this conflict. I will try to counsel with King Lucan and King Meire. In this effort, I am allied with Orris, our Captain of the King’s guard, and with Sir Nevin the Reasoner. You have no doubt heard tales of Sir Nevin already, but I must take him now as our mission is urgent. We leave today for Sartell to first meet with Lucan.”
Innocent faces hung on his words, including many young widows, orphans, and others suffering from the privations of the escalating war. Anson’s voice rose, remarkably resonant for such a small man. “It is for you that we make this journey, and it is for you that we must succeed.”
Stunned by the emotion in Anson’s voice and the depth of love and commitment he expressed to these people, Nevin was more surprised by the reaction of the villagers. There was neither applause nor reverie. Most of the villagers just quietly walked forward, milling around the mage, the sage and the soldier; men gave them pats on the back, women more gently touched their hands with quiet wishes of good luck. The children still stared at Nevin but remained quietly subdued, typically hanging on to a parent’s skirt or hand. It astounded Nevin how deeply these people seemed to understand what Anson had said in so few words. He shuddered to think how easily they became entirely dependent upon Anson’s meager little plan.
Faldon drove up with a wagon drawn by two medium-sized draft horses. Anson waved to the crowd and climbed aboard, followed by Orris and Nevin. The children came to life and noisily ran alongside the wagon as it creaked westerly toward the Public Road. After a few bumps, Nevin was jolted by the fact they were on their way to Sartell, the First City of Antrim and King Lucan’s castle.
Alliance for Antrim Page 21
