by Scott Moore
“What now?”
“You both follow me.”
Chapter 14
The Borrowers
The band carried Abrie off disappearing into the thick of the surrounding trees. Malik watched until they were out of sight. He hoped again that he had not sent Abrie into some perilous situation.
“Who are you?” Malik asked the man again.
“Gather your things and let us walk while we talk.”
Malik looked back, seeing Mollie still frozen.
“Mollie, we need to follow these men.”
“He was right in front of me, Malik.”
“It was a crappy situation. We must go help Abrie though. If we don’t go who knows what will happen to him.”
“I have a sword on my back for what? If I can’t even use it to defend my friends or family, what is the point?” Mollie was on the verge of a breakdown. Malik could see the waterworks starting behind her eyes.
“Stay focused, Mollie. We will get past this, but right now we have to go.”
They didn’t have time for a pity party. Not even one well deserved. Sweet Tongue had scared him to the brink of death. He had wanted to kill every member of the Tempre, but he couldn’t even face down one without wanting to run away.
“Mollie!”
Mollie snapped out of her own thoughts. “Yes, let’s go.”
Malik moved to the mules grabbing their reins. They would follow without his insistence, but it felt better having something to focus on.
“Okay, now that you are together you can follow me back to our resting place.”
Malik took a few moments to gather himself. He wanted to ask so many questions. However, the only man who could answer most of them died from a puncture wound to his stomach. Malik hoped that Abrie would live for many reasons but a major one, was so he could get answers.
“Are you ready to talk?” Malik asked.
“My name is Timbre.”
Timbre was a short stature man with long, dark hair reaching to the middle of his back. On his face, he had a beard that reached to his collar braided in two strands to either side of his chin.
Malik had so many questions to ask, he could not decide where to start. He had no way of knowing how much Timbre could even tell him. Malik wanted to sit down. His mind and body felt overwhelmed by everything, but he pushed on.
“Is that all the questions on your mind?”
Timbre glanced over his shoulder, without stopping. Malik decided that he saw no malice intent in those eyes.
“Why did you help us?” Mollie asked.
Timbre shrugged. “Good deeds are often repaid.”
Mollie looked away. “I have twice been saved by strangers in such a short time. I haven’t given anything back. If anything, I have burdened my helpers.”
“That is not true,” Malik shot back.
“It is true, what have I done to help anyone? I stood frozen while Sweet Tongue stabbed Abrie. I did nothing when I could have done something.”
Malik took a moment to take a breath. There was too much to say about everything that had happened with Sweet Tongue. They had both done nothing to help Abrie.
“You saved me.”
“How have I saved you?”
Malik thought back to the night at Minnow’s Creek. Mollie might have been the one feeling the effects of it, but he had been the one to almost die.
“You killed a man so I could live.”
Mollie’s face drained of the remaining color. Malik watched her swallow her retort. Timbre had kept them moving this entire conversation, getting them to the tree line.
“It sounds like you all have many things to work out, but also to be thankful for.”
Timbre motioned them into the overhanging branches. “We will have to walk under the leaves of the trees for some time.” He held back a few branches for Malik and Mollie to walk under.
Malik pulled the mules along behind him. Mollie followed next, followed by Timbre who let the branch snap back into place with a crack.
“We will follow this path for about a mile.”
“You helped us, thinking someday you would get a favor from us?” Malik asked when they started moving again.
Timbre took a moment to think about his reply. “My people are collectors. Maybe we are better described as borrowers. I believe that many people call us that across the lands,” Timbre said. “We give what we learn to others in exchange for their talents. Your friend, Abrie, needs a doctor. Lucky for you, we have borrowed the trade of a doctor from a man many ages ago. In exchange, we gave him some other service. For you, we helped you with your problem and you can repay us.”
“So, you want coin?” Malik asked.
They had very little coin left in their possession. The coin that they had they would need for supplies or they would starve.
“Not coin or money, no.”
Timbre pushed another branch out of the way before adding to his reply.
“We borrow useful items. Medicine, maps, knowledge.”
Malik had never heard of the Borrowers and he had heard of many things being a bard for so long.
“What is it we would pay you for helping us?” Malik asked.
“I don’t know, that will not be for me to decide.”
Timbre led them through brush, bramble, and bushes. There wasn’t a distinct path to follow. Without Timbre, Malik was sure he would lose the path. Timbre seemed to know where he was going. He never paused, second guessed, or stopped to access where he was. When they came to a wide clearing, Timbre pointed off to the large caravan of tents and horses.
“That is my village.”
Malik had never seen a village like this one. There were no buildings, shops, inns, or taverns. There were no homes for people to live inside. There were no stables or barns. Everyone just gathered around small campfires, talking amongst themselves.
“What kind of village is this?” Malik asked Mollie out the side of his mouth. He was not trying to offend Timbre, but he questioned the man’s knowledge of the term village.
“They are a traveling people. They call themselves, Borrowers, but many people call them thieves and vagabonds,” Mollie whispered her reply.
Malik understood now who the people were. They were the traveling bands that real villages told stories of. Lock your doors or the traveling people will steal your children. That was the tale when Malik had been a youth. He doubted that his parents had ever told him those stories. His mother and father never seemed like the superstitious or judgmental type. He had heard the stories though.
“Do you think they can help Abrie?”
Timbre was well ahead of them now and Malik didn’t fear him overhearing their conversation.
“I believe Timbre thought they could. He does not strike me as a liar.”
Malik gave it a thought, agreeing that Timbre hadn’t come across as a liar. His friends had been eager to help. There wasn’t reason to believe that Abrie would not at least have a chance at survival.
“Timbre,” Malik called.
Timbre stopped. “You never asked who we were?”
They had walked with him for over a mile, he had saved them, and he had answered their questions. Yet, he never asked them what their names were, or who they were.
Timbre studied Malik for a moment. “You are fellow humans in trouble. We do not pry into the past of one’s nature. For the past does not matter, as long as your future is pure.”
Malik turned to Mollie. “Oh no, it’s a whole group of Abrie’s.”
Timbre looked confused at the outburst.
“It is our friend.” Malik nodded toward the camp. “His name is, Abrie.”
“Abrie is a poet?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“I am a poet and you stated that Abrie speaks like me.”
“I don’t think Abrie is a poet but what do I know about Abrie?”
Timbre’s face scrunched in confusion.
“There is just a lot we are finding
out about one another,” Malik added.
Malik didn’t want to offend their host. He would keep the confusion to himself. He would just have to hope that Abrie woke up, able to answer questions.
“Your friend will be there in the big tent.” Timbre pointed.
The big tent, as Timbre had called it, was bright yellow and at least five feet higher than the surrounding tents. Most people gathered around what Malik guessed were their own personal sleeping quarters. There were only a few people near the big tent and none of them looked good. Malik walked by those he would guess had become invalid, sick, or just old. No one tried to talk with him or Mollie. Timbre sometimes greeted some individuals he knew. He would sometimes avoid a bed altogether, telling Malik and Mollie that not all traveling people would make the next trip with them.
Malik figured this was the place that the Borrowers came to die. He hoped that Abrie would fare better than those he saw outside.
Timbre must have caught the look forming on Malik’s face.
“Do not worry; these are those that are sick beyond cure. These individuals will never rejoin the face of humanity and they have come to terms with this. The doctor will no longer see them. They are given comfort medicine and guided into the realm of the dead. You do not have to worry about them, as long as you do not get too close or touch them.”
Timbre pointed again toward the tent. “In the tent, you will find those who the doctor can still assist. Abrie will be inside with the doctor.”
Malik felt better about that. He felt bad for those out here who would have to die, but he didn’t know them. Their families would mourn them. He would give his respect by not gawking as he passed.
“Enter through here.” Timbre pulled back the tent flap.
The beds here were beds filled with patients looking more alive. They were all awake, looking much better than those Malik had seen outside. There were fewer people in the tent than outside, leading Malik to wonder the survival rate of the traveling people. He pushed that thought from his mind. If he succumbed to negative thoughts, then he would just worry himself over things he couldn’t control.
“Where is Abrie?”
Malik had left Sally and Callie right outside the tent. He knew they would not wander off and he doubted that the Borrowers would get very far with the two stubborn mules.
“He will be in the seeing room.” Timbre guided them down the aisle. “The doctor sees patients in privacy with only his nurse present. I will inform the nurse we are here to see Abrie. The doctor will not allow us to see him until Abrie is treated.”
Timbre pointed to a line of chairs off to the side of the tent. “You two sit there. I will find the nurse.” Timbre disappeared behind another flap.
Malik wondered how long the Borrowers stayed at any one place. This tent alone would take days to set up and get operational. When they moved what did they do with those patients who couldn’t travel with them? Malik tried to think less of death.
“Abrie will be okay,” Malik said to Mollie. He said it just as much for himself as he did for her.
Mollie stared at the tent wall, off in her own thoughts and worries. Malik waited for her to reply but he got nothing. He may as well have been alone there. He looked around the tent trying to find something to occupy his mind. Only medical equipment and patients filled the area. He leaned back, closing his eyes, but he saw the face of Sweet Tongue staring back at him.
Sweet Tongue was still out there, near the former town of Lake Bridge. Malik wondered if he had gathered a brigade to come find them. How many people would follow him? Malik almost laughed at the stupid question. All these men and women were vying to become members of the Tempre Warriors. They would all stumble over one another to take up arms with Sweet Tongue. The new question was how many people Sweet Tongue trusted with coming to gather Abrie and kill Mollie and Malik.
Malik opened his eyes. That line of thought wasn’t helping his worry. He stood up moving toward the tent flap that Timbre had disappeared behind. He would find this nurse and doctor. Why should they have any right to tell him he could not see Abrie? Malik reached for the flap when Timbre pushed through.
“The doctor is stitching Abrie up,” Timbre said, looking over Malik. “He says he will survive but be in severe pain for the next week or two.”
Malik envisioned the blood pool that Abrie had been lying in. He was happy to hear Abrie would be alive. Abrie would have to deal with the pain.
“Can we see him now?”
“Not yet. Are you two hungry?”
Malik shook his head. He had no interest in food. He doubted he could keep it down, even if he were hungry enough to eat.
“Are you hungry, Mollie?” Malik asked.
Mollie didn’t answer.
“I think we will both stay here and wait for Abrie.”
“I believe you will want to meet with Simbre.”
“Who is Simbre?”
Malik tired of meeting people. All he wanted to do was see Abrie so he could get some answers to his questions. He doubted Simbre would be a person he wanted to meet with.
“She is, I suppose, our leader.”
Malik sighed. “What you mean to say is, Simbre would like to meet us? I don’t mean to be rude, but I would rather wait until I can speak with Abrie.”
Timbre nodded as if he understood, however, he answered as if he had nothing else, he could say. “I think it is for the best that you meet with her now.”
Malik knew there wasn’t a point in arguing. He could throw a fit, cause a scene, and get thrown out of the camp. That would help no one, and he may never get back in to see Abrie. The only choice he had was to go see Simbre, leader of the Borrowers.
“I suppose you will lead me to her?” Malik asked.
Timbre nodded toward Mollie. “I will lead you both to her,” he amended.
Malik tapped Mollie on the shoulder. “We are being ushered to our payment taker.”
He tried not to feel resentment toward Timbre as they moved away from the medical tent. He knew it wasn’t Timbre’s fault. He followed orders. Simbre would have taken out her anger on him if he had failed. Malik knew how people in power wanted to feel important.
Timbre guided them past the living quarters of many traveling people. Each greeted Timbre as if they were long-lost friends. Timbre greeted them the same. Malik wondered if they were this chummy with one another all the time, or if it was a show they put on for strangers.
Timbre pushed past wagons that separated the home tents of the travelers and what would be the common grounds.
“Here we sing, dance, read, and have theater,” Timbre said. “This is where you will meet Simbre.”
Timbre pointed to a line of seats for Mollie and Malik to wait in.
“I will go inform her you have arrived.”
Once he was out of ear shot, Malik leaned over to Mollie. “I wonder what he means by telling her we have arrived. Why would she be waiting on us? Or was that a play on words?”
He could have been talking to a wall. Mollie blinked then turned away toward the wagons.
“I enjoy our talks, I really do.”
Mollie was about as useful as a rock since Minnow’s Creek. He was still glad she was there though. Even without talking, she added a comfort that he wouldn’t have if he were alone.
Malik wondered how long this Simbre would leave them waiting. He knew that important people liked to make themselves feel even more important by making dramatic or late entrances. Malik had only played a handful of royal parties but every one of them had started at least two hours after the invitation time. It was almost a fight to see who could arrive last. Malik sighed, letting the tension out of his shoulders and neck.
He thought about trying to talk with Mollie again. He had a better chance of having a productive conversation with Callie. At least the mule would bray back at him. Mollie just looked off into space like she had forgotten other humans existed.
Malik investigated the carts. Maybe this trip w
ould do more than help Abrie. Maybe they could find some supplies that they would need to survive the next few days. If they could stay out of the surrounding villages and towns, then Sweet Tongue would have a harder time locating them.
Malik moved to the closest wagon. He pulled the tarp back a smidge to see what the Borrowers were transporting. It was hard to see what was under the tarp without pulling more back to provide light. Whatever was inside the wagon had been covered in a dark leathery blanket. Malik pulled the tarp further away from the corner. He saw the beginnings of a long claw stripped in white markings. Malik’s throat constricted. He knew what he was looking at. He had seen the creatures twice before. Both times they had been alive when he had seen them. Malik wondered how they had captured the dead creature.
The claw moved on its own volition. Malik dropped the tarp, stumbling back. He must have let out an involuntary scream because Mollie turned to him.
“What is going on?”
“I don’t know.” He wanted to do two very conflicting things. He wanted to go back to the wagon to double-check what he had seen. He also wanted to run as far away from this camp as he could. Neither of them won. He froze to the ground, unmoving.
“Malik what did you see?” Mollie asked again. She got up from her seat.
Malik figured this was the most emotion she had shown since the night she had killed that overgrown drunk. Malik tried to tell her what was in the cart, but he doubted she would believe him. He didn’t believe himself. How would they have trapped the monster? Why would they have kept that monster? There was no reason to do either. Malik swallowed the dry lump in his throat.
“I think my mind was playing a trick on me is all.”
Mollie wasn’t listening to him. She walked toward the wagon. He wanted to call out for her to stop but he found it hard to do so. It wouldn’t matter anyhow. He hadn’t seen the creature inside the wagon. He had let his mind get the better of him. It had been a long few days. Too many times he had almost died, and too many days he had gone without enough sleep.
Malik took a deep breath. He would be okay in a moment. All he needed to do was recollect himself. Then he would wait for Simbre, meet her, and then go back to Abrie. They would then leave this moving village. They needed to get far away from Lake Bridge and Sweet Tongue.
