by M. D. Grimm
“You’re still a little warm.” He poured more water into the goblet and then riffled around inside a few jars that Lance hadn’t noticed before. They were different sizes and shapes and colors without labels of any kind. When Gust found what he was looking for, he took a pinch of the powdery substance and dropped it into the water. He gently swished the water around before handing it to Lance. The powder obviously dissolved since he spied nothing in the water.
“Drink some more.” Gust said. “I’ll see if I can get some food.” He poked Lance in the chest against the only spot with unbruised flesh. “Don’t even think about getting out of bed.”
Then he was gone, and Lance tilted his head slightly, puzzled. It was odd to be with someone who didn’t fear him and knew nothing about him. Huh. Just like the baby. She’d had no fear, no judgment. She’d delighted in his company or perhaps had found him amusing. He had no idea what had made the baby laugh.
Brutus snorted and eyed him.
“What do we do now?” he asked. “Once we kill Ulfr, what then? What purpose will my life have?”
Brutus bobbed his head without an answer.
Lance sipped and the water tasted no different from whatever Gust put in it. Seeing no reason not to trust the healer, Lance gulped it all down. He frowned at the empty goblet and absently rubbed his head. Gust returned shortly, followed by an older woman significantly shorter than him. Her body was curvy and endowed, her hair braided like Gust’s and wrapped in a tight bun at the base of her head. She wore a blue apron over her simple gray dress. She also had strong arms, and her skirt was surprisingly short. Lance had never known women to wear skirts so short. He suspected she was related to Gust since there were too many similarities between their faces and eyes to be otherwise. Perhaps his aunt that Gust had spoken about earlier?
The woman introduced herself as Kissa and proceeded to check his wounds and ask him questions about the pain. He answered the best he could, wanting to be honest and yet fearing she’d consider him weak. She removed a few of his bandages and slathered on sweet smelling paste from a blue jar. He scanned a few of his worst injuries and gritted his teeth at the damage. Plenty of deep slices and a few nasty punctures that, despite the severity, were closed.
Healers and their herbs. Remarkable.
He glanced at Gust where he stood near the window, speaking softly to Brutus. Brutus appeared to accept Gust’s words and calmly rested his chin on the window frame.
“The stitches can come out,” Kissa said. “Gust.”
Gust hurried over and Lance tried not to flinch as they touched him and snipped the stitches.
“Just a bit more,” Gust said softly. “You’re doing great.”
Lance forced himself to relax, trusting Gust at his word. It didn’t take them long and though his wounds were still tender, he felt better for having the stitches out.
“You need to stay in bed for a couple days longer before you can move around on your own,” Kissa said. “Your fall could have ripped open your wounds, and you’ve lost enough blood as it is.” She glanced at Brutus. “We can move the bed closer to the window so you can be near your horse.”
Lance nodded. “Yes, I would like that.”
He sat in a chair as they moved the bed, puzzled at his helplessness. He noted the continual aches and occasional sharp pains. The fatigue was novel and different from what he’d experienced after a day wearing the armor. He’d never been this wounded before apparently and decidedly did not like it. Even as a child, when Ulfr had beat him, he managed to move around under his own power and shake off most of the pain. Now he was dependent on another for help. No, he definitely didn’t like it at all.
Yet Gust and Kissa were kind and brisk, not coddling him and yet not callous either. Never once did they show any inclination to take advantage of his weakness. Healers not warriors. He especially enjoyed watching Gust move around and hearing him speak. His movements put Lance in mind of a dancer, like those Ulfr had sometimes hired to entertain his troops when he was in an especially good mood. Gust’s voice, even when he only spoke, sounded like a song.
Lance wasn’t sure how he felt about Gust’s familiarity with Brutus, and yet considering his weakened state, if Brutus did let fury rule him, Lance couldn’t calm him down. So that made him grateful that Brutus listened to Gust. It also eased his mind further that Brutus trusted him. There was no reason Lance shouldn’t trust Gust either.
Now Lance was back in bed, eating a large bowl of soup, and eyeing the apple that Gust munched on. Brutus nuzzled Lance’s face now and then, and nipped at his hair. Gust swallowed another bite of the apple before glancing at it. He’d eaten half of it. He shrugged and held out the rest to Brutus. Brutus sniffed it before using his lips to grab the rest. He withdrew and munched on it.
Gust smiled.
Lance paused and glanced between them. Warmth flooded his chest. Kindness. Strange to see.
Exhaustion washed over Lance not long after finishing his soup, and he lay back and closed his eyes. Brutus’s hot breath fanned his face, soothing him with familiarity. The bed was still too soft but it didn’t deter him from sleeping. He was drifting off when a slim hand with a few callused fingers stroked his hair away from his face. He cracked his eyes open just enough to see Gust leaning over him, smiling sweetly, green eyes shimmering in the light of the rising sun.
So pretty.
Lance closed his eyes and let the gentle strokes lull him to sleep.
Chapter Six
Gust found it interesting that the warrior appeared quite gentle and almost docile. It was also something to see the beast Brutus act like a joyful colt upon seeing Lance. Gust wanted to know everything about Lance, and knew he had to take it slow. At least he was confident in his guess that Lance couldn’t be much older than him. Gust was twenty-seven years old. Lance had to be around that age as well.
Lance’s wounds were healing nicely despite the heart-stopping fall, and his sleep was undisturbed. Brutus refused to leave Lance’s side, and Maged brought hay and oats to him. Brutus bobbed his head at Maged as if saying thanks before chomping at the food. Brutus even let Gust brush him after Maged returned saddle, bridle, and saddlebags, all freshly cleaned. The allowance delighted Gust, although it saddened him to see the longing in Lance’s eyes. The bond between man and beast was obvious and beautiful.
It was mid-morning, the day after Lance’s awakening, and Gust made sure he was still sleeping and had plenty of water before slipping out of the room. He hurried outside and across the town to the meeting hut, determined to know what the council said about Lance. He was prepared to defend his patient against any bigotry. The council was equally split between men and women, as well as young and old, so there was a good chance the younger generation would have an open mind about the warrior in their midst. Due to preparations for the snake festival and normal late spring and early summer activities, it had taken longer than usual for the council to meet to discuss Lance’s arrival.
Gust slipped into the hut quietly and crouched in the back, behind all the pews. He spotted Kissa at the front, sitting on the first pew to the right. The ten council members sat at a long table, facing the audience. He didn’t want to leave Lance alone too long. None of the apprentices were available to watch him so Gust was taking a chance. The fever might have broken but Gust was scared he would try to leave again. Foolish man. It was like he didn’t understand how badly he was injured despite Kissa and Gust telling him about it.
“This council meeting is now in session,” Gamall said, the eldest member and speaker. “This special meet was requested by our chief healer, Kissa. Kissa, if you please.”
“Thank you.” Kissa stood and stepped forward to address the council, and yet it was clear she was also addressing those of the town in attendance. “I wish to inform the council that the patient Gust brought to me a few days ago is a warrior named Lance. We do not yet know his story or anything of his past. His horse, as I’m sure many of you have noticed, is unique and deadly in his own
right. My nephew suggested that he could be a divine animal.”
A few murmurs rippled through the hut.
“I have no evidence to that theory, and yet the manner of the horse leads me to wonder at his origins. Regardless, Lance is healing nicely, and I hope to learn more of his story as time allows.”
“You brought this to our attention for a reason,” Heb said, a man a few years older than Gust. “Do you think this warrior is a danger? Or that he brings danger with him? Could he be part of Ragel’s band?”
“I cannot speculate as to that,” Kissa said crisply. “I wanted the council and our town to be aware of the stranger in our midst and to use caution. At this point I don’t see him as a danger to anyone but himself since he continues to be stubborn about my instructions.”
There were a few snickers, and Gust smiled. Everyone in the town knew Kissa’s insistence on being obeyed.
“I have to wonder about the horse,” Anippa said, her pale eyes narrowed in a dark, wrinkled face. “It attacked some of our men. We can’t keep a dangerous beast within our borders.”
Even as Gust was about to leap up in defense, Kissa’s strong voice took up the challenge.
“As I understand it from my nephew, a few of our men decided to lay claim to the horse without permission. The horse took offense and defended himself. Before and after Lance’s awakening the horse has been peaceful, and even the stablemaster has commented on his steady manner.”
“That’s right,” Maged said as he stood. He was a strong man in his waning years, and yet his eyes were no less keen than they were in his younger days. “Brutus is loyal to his rider and not a threat to anyone that isn’t a threat to him. I’ve watched Gust handle the horse since the incident, and he has since brushed him with ease. Brutus understands and accepts his words of reassurance. He’s not a wild animal. I think Gust is right, and that the horse is blessed by Batsa. We can confirm with the priest or priestess if there’s still doubt.”
When Maged sat down, Kissa spoke again. “At this time, I have no reason to think that Lance or Brutus are any danger to us. Lance is being watched all day and night by myself, Gust, or one of the apprentices.”
Gust felt a tug of guilt. He also realized Kissa had said nothing about how Lance was beaten, or their theory it was from running the gauntlet. It would be a dead giveaway that they might be dealing with a dangerous and potentially traitorous individual. Heb had already mentioned Ragel and that put everyone on edge already. She alerted the council without frightening them. It would give them time to figure out Lance’s story.
Good job, Aunt.
“We should send a letter to Lord Khepi,” Lukman said. The older council member was stately in stature and shrewd in gaze. “I would rest easier if our main benefactor knew about the potential danger in our midst. He can send us soldiers to guard against a raid.”
“My patient can barely stand,” Kissa said, tone hardening. “What danger do you expect from him?”
“As Heb said,” Lukman said with a similar tone. “We can’t know if the warrior brings danger with him or if he was one of Ragel’s band. We are a wealthy town and only Lord Semesy and Lord Khepi’s soldiers keep us safe.”
Those were the two earls that sent soldiers to patrol the roads and protect Thebys during harvesting season. Gust clenched his jaw to keep from ranting against Lukman. He had to grudgingly admit that he had a point. He didn’t know Lance either, and yet he still trusted that he meant no harm to anyone. The docility and almost lost look in his eyes put Gust in mind of a child forced to journey out into the wide world alone.
“I will send a letter to him,” Gamall said. Kissa opened her mouth, and Gamall held up a hand. “It will only inform him of what we know. A man we suspect to be a warrior came to us wounded and is healing in our town. That is all. There is no reason to request soldiers at this time. He has been with us for a couple of days and none of our sentinels have reported any movement of warriors. Besides, I doubt either of them would have many to spare. They have sent a good portion of their soldiers to Swenen to assist Queen Gunrun in her battle against the horde.”
A collective shudder went through all the attendees, and Gust grimaced. The horde was a plague in human form. They ravaged the borders of Swenen and had for generations. He only knew that the brutal beasts were relentless, and to rule the northern kingdom was to inherit a bloody throne.
Kissa’s dark eyes glinted, indicating her displeasure, but she nodded. The other council members murmured their agreement to Gamall’s decision.
“While he is your patient, Kissa,” Gamall said. “I think I speak for everyone that we would be more reassured when we learn his history. We don’t want the wrath of a warlord to burn us to get to him.”
“I understand,” she said stiffly.
Gust blew out a breath and slipped out, relieved at the council’s decision. Now he just hoped Lance didn’t have a dark past that could swallow them all.
Before returning to Lance, Gust detoured to the modest temple devoted to Cairon’s eight gods. He walked to Anknet’s shrine first and pulled out a small bag full of peaches and a modest knife. He set the peaches in an empty basket and placed it at the foot of one of the painstakingly carved and painted pillars. Large birds dominated the blue sky, representing life, while snakes twined and slithered around the base, representing death. Colors were bright and vivid around the birds while only greys and greens accompanied the snakes.
He nicked his forearm and smeared the blood along the base of the pillar. Anknet had shared the gift of healing with the first humans when the world was still young, after they’d begged and pleaded with the gods to show them how to prolong life. It was only proper he give something back in thanks. It was because of her that he and his aunt had the ability to heal Lance.
“Thank you,” he whispered. Then he paced slowly around the temple, regarding the seven other shrines, spaced equal distance from each other, tended to by the priest and priestess that lived inside the temple. There were Osys and Ysys, brother and sister, husband and wife. The two aspects of life personified in two different entities. Their son, Hoksys, was a guardian and patron of kings and queens, and all rulers and leaders. He was balance and light, the sun, and growth. Then there was Snet, his uncle, the chaos-wielder, cruel and malicious. He was the one to kill Osys in the Beginning and scatter parts of him over the universe. Only Ysys could put him back together and breathe life into him again. But he had to remain in the underworld, the only immortal to have ever died.
Then there was Mawn, the devourer of souls. Her black pillar always made Gust shudder. Next to her was Batsa, and then finally Drska, the inspirer, the one to inflame passion in artists of all sorts, including musicians, minstrels, and dancers.
These gods and goddesses had been worshipped in Cairon before it was part of the empire, many generations in the murky past. His tribal ancestors had brought them along as they headed north. It was a constant that comforted him.
As he stepped away from the temple, it didn’t surprise him to see Gamall shuffle nearer with Rabia assisting him. Rabia was a woman not too much older than Gust, though she was married with two adopted children. She caught his eye and nodded to him as she helped Gamall up the shallow steps to the front door of the temple. Rabia knocked. They didn’t wait long for the priestess to answer. Mandissa smiled upon seeing them. She was petite and her dress was loose, a golden column covering her from neck to ankle, the sleeves reaching her delicate wrists. Her dark hair was bundled up on the top of her head without adornment. The priest, Kurzun, wore similar garb, though he’d shaved his head bald.
“Good day. How may I assist you?” she asked.
“Good day, Priestess,” Rabia said.
“We need you to look at a horse that has come into our town,” Gamall said.
Mandissa tilted her head slightly. “A horse?”
Rabia explained the situation, and Mandissa nodded. “I would certainly be able to take a look at the beast. Do you know whe
re he is?”
Gust stepped forward. “I can lead you to the horse. His name is Brutus.”
The three turned to look at him.
“What are you doing here instead of watching the warrior?” Gamall said.
Gust cleared his throat. “I was giving offerings to Anknet, thanking her for helping me save the warrior’s life.”
Mandissa smiled serenely.
Gamall appeared chastised and Rabia smirked at the elder’s discomfort.
“If you would follow me,” Gust said. He led them back to the healing hut. Brutus slowly paced outside the open window, appearing impatient and bored. When he noticed them, his ears perked up and he whinnied. Before Gust could fear the worst, Brutus trotted closer and nudged his shoulder with his nose. Gust smiled, relieved, and stroked his neck.
Gamall and Rabia stopped a safe distance away while Mandissa came closer. Brutus eyed her and made no show of aggression. Did Brutus know she was a priestess and harmless?
Mandissa considered him in silence as she slowly walked around him. When she reached his head once more, her eyes were wide in astonishment.
“Without a doubt, I say this horse is blessed by Batsa. He is of divine blood.”
Clearly, Gamall had not expected that answer. Gods, neither had Rabia, if her gaping was any indication.
Gust smiled and continued to stroke Brutus’s neck. Satisfied and thrilled, Gust felt vindicated. Mandissa stepped closer and held out her hand. Brutus sniffed it before nuzzling her palm. A grin broke out on her face, and she rubbed his nose and cooed with such affection, Gust nearly blushed. Brutus swished his tail, apparently loving the attention.
“Whatever warrior has earned this horse’s trust, can very likely be trusted himself. Divine animals do not give their loyalty to just anyone.”
Gamall grunted. “Thank you, Mandissa.”
“My pleasure, Elder Gamall.”
“We shall inform the rest of the council,” Rabia said faintly. She led Gamall away.
Mandissa stayed a bit longer, unable to stop touching Brutus. “I am greatly interested in the warrior.”
