“I must admit, I was glad that you had moved a step or two into the stable,” Keldron admitted. “I knew that you were fast, my friend. Obviously I underestimated you.”
“Keep it quiet, you might ruin my reputation as a huge lumbering giant.” Malcolm replied through a grin. “You might want to also keep quiet that you scared me nearly out of my skin with but a word.”
“Ha. It was my skin that I was more worried about for a moment,” Keldron conceded. “I must remember to frighten you when you aren't armed.”
“The horses seem content. “Their heat and closeness in the stalls are relaxing. I'm not surprised you are in here.”
Keldron located several candles, and a series of lanterns. He used one of his focus stones, for Belyn had given out several, to create a small flame that he used to light the candles in the lamps. These he placed on hooks hanging down from the roof, and went on about his work, brushing down the bay mare that always nickered in greeting whenever he came near. The horse took his ministrations in its stride, shifting around the stall as Keldron moved around with the brush and handfuls of straw he was using. It munched away at its food completely unconcerned. Eventually tiring, Keldron selected himself a nice spot between three bales of hay, fallen from the hayloft, and sat down. The straw poked at his skin through his clothes, and seemed to make him itch in just about every place. He remembered then that he would need the dressing on his arm changed again. As this thought struck him, the arm in question started to throb, as though the very nerves had been waiting for him to give them attention. It did seem a little better for all of the fuss being made over it. He chuckled, leaning back into the straw in blatant defiance of both reason and the aforementioned nerves. He had been so busy with the horses that he had not even noticed whether or not his arm had been giving him pain. In fact, it seemed like the pain was a manifestation of the evil that rose from the village, for not a moment had passed after his thoughts about his arm, than he was worrying about the village again. The moment ruined, Keldron decided to go back into the house. “I can feel it more now.”
Malcolm examined Keldron's arm. “ You have been working it hard. We must get you back inside, my friend. All this work has begun to unravel the bandaging, and I doubt not that the pain is returning.”
“It is okay,” Keldron replied, though Malcolm was indeed correct. “I have lived through worse. This is not as bad as broken ribs.”
“But I hazard that it is almost as painful. That is some burn that brought you back to us. Let us go and sort it out.” They left the stable with a comforting goodbye to some of the horses, ensuring that they had snuffed out the candles in the lamps first.
“Dark in here.” Only then did Keldron realise how late it had actually gotten.
Malcolm opened the door to the stable, and barely anything was visible. “You were in here a long time. That's why I came after you.”
As Keldron ventured cautiously out into the whispering breeze and its eternal promise of winter, he walked carefully sideways to avoid knocking his arm and aggravating the injury. He tried to make out the yard as he had remembered it, but the drums, and other tools that were stacked neatly only showed up as yet more darkness amongst the shadows that his eyes just could not penetrate. There was the merest slip of twilight in the West, where the blue-black cloud had parted to show the darkness mingling with a hint of dark red to create a vivid violet as Matsandrau, the Sun god, sped his creature on its never-ending journey around the earth. Above, a bank of cloud sealed the moon and stars from him.
“Here, in the absolute blackness of a village that died before its time, one can finally understand what absolute night feels like.”
“Does it worry you?”
Keldron turned towards the voice in the dark. “No Malcolm, it feels somehow comforting.”
“It would be too much for many city folk, existing under such vastness.”
Keldron shivered unconsciously, holding his elbows with the opposite hands. They had seen the night sky clouded over and dark when they had been travelling, but here it felt right that there should be light, and yet there was none. “It is the feeling of absence that gives the darkness its edge of despite. There are no people here. This former beacon of light at the end of the day, this gathering place for travellers, has become a darker hole than many would ever be able to comprehend. The worst part of it all is that there is no way to bring significant respite to the dark horror that is this village.”
“True. It is quite possible, even with a few too many candles, to make a beacon of ourselves in the great blackness of the rural night. We might be seen from anything up to a league away if those looking know what to spy for, and there is nothing to say that the horsemen are anything like that far away. For all we know, the horsemen are right outside of the village, just waiting for us to give ourselves away.”
“Let us get inside then.” So it was that as Keldron approached the parlour, only through experience was he able to tell that there were a couple of carefully shielded candles alight within. The drapes were all drawn, as he guessed that they would be. They would not give themselves away without good cause. Opening the door, he entered with Malcolm close behind to see that things had changed a considerable amount in the time that he had been. The packs had been distributed around the room, and the table had been moved respectfully to one side of the parlour in order to give them somewhere to lie down. Cushions and blankets from the bedrooms draped the floor.
“It is a shame that the miller would never again see the house that he once called home.” Keldron touched the furnishings with respect. The miller had dwelled here in domestic tranquillity, but that was all past. A shock event had seen to the end of his existence in this place, and now all that was left were bad memories to be carried into eternity, forgotten to all.
“Sit down.” Keldron was brought out of his contemplation of the foibles of life by Yerdu, who silently motioned for him to sit to the left of the table, balm and bandages at the ready. “Let me see to that wound of yours.”
“I'm fine.”
“Of course you are. That's why you went and spent an age in the stables with horses instead of in here in the warm, because you are fine.”
As Yerdu unwrapped the bandage, it felt to Keldron as if he were having his very skin unwrapped from his body, so sore was his arm. Malcolm motioned to them that he was heading outside to watch and would leave Yerdu to it.
Yerdu tutted as she looked at the state of the wound, weeping with pus because of the stress he had put himself under whilst tending the horses. “You men really do not know how to take care of yourselves. Still, it is looking somewhat improved already.”
Joleen entered the parlour with another lamp, setting it down on the table. “It is lucky that you have us here to look after you, or you would end up with bits dropping off, and would never even notice.”
Yerdu smiled at that comment, and added, “We couldn't have men without their bits now could we.” This brought a chuckle from Joleen, and Keldron remained seated, his face in mock anguish. “Oh woe is me, and woe for us men, to be so helpless as to be mere babes in your care.” He tried to add a flourish as he said this, but Yerdu had his arm in an iron grip as she applied the soothing balm, and would not let him move an inch.
“This is a torrid injury, and sums up your day, wizard. You would do well to remain still as I apply this balm, and stop acting like such a blatherskite.”
Noting that Yerdu was now being serious, Keldron became contrite, allowing Yerdu to finish her work. As she tied off the bandage, Keldron admitted that his arm was feeling much better. “What is in that balm?” he asked as she was replacing the pot in her pack.
“Herbs, soothing creams and a little bit of forest magic.” She replied with a hint of evasion. “It will heal your arm quicker than your body can naturally, and judging by the severity of that burn, you need it.”
Keldron leaned back into the cushions he was resting on. The parlour, in its dim light and subt
le warmth, was restful and quiet. “It seems as though anything associated with the Merdon forest has an amazing healing property.”
Yerdu nodded in agreement. “Does it surprise you that we regret nearly every moment that we are not there? The forest, aside from being our home, is a miraculous place, evidence of which you have seen first-hand.”
“I recall the very first image I saw as I left the tent. I looked out upon a valley shaped in a perfect bowl, full of magnificently old trees. Amongst the trees small campfires produced streams of smoke that went straight up into the sky where they mingled and danced as if at play. There was an absolute lack of a breeze, and like so few places, I felt quite at rest there. It had been clear when first I emerged from the tent that there was something eldritch about the valley, but it was a good thing, and the tribe prospered under its protection.” Keldron tried to forget that somebody was responsible for destroying that peace, and attacking the tribe in their one point of contact with outsiders. He regretted that such a rash move by whoever was responsible, Witch Finder or other.
“You have seen but a little of our lives, wizard, but you see to the heart of what we miss.”
“Should the Merdonese recover from the assault upon their home, I regret that they may never again trust to contact with outsiders, a fact that would detriment both them, and those who relied upon their contact.”
“There is nothing to say that there is no other avenue open to us, Keldron.”
“Well when the time comes, I will do my utmost to ensure that the entire tribe is safe and yet not hidden. There is too much hate and distrust in the world already. One day we shall see the forest restored to the peaceful haven that it was before we came. I think that I speak for all of my brothers when I say that I am glad you decided to come with us.” He spoke the words to Yerdu, but again his eyes met with Joleen, who smiled back at him.
“I will hold you to that, wizard,” Yerdu said as if she had not noticed Keldron looking away. “I think that a great many moons will pass ere we return to our forest in peace. We should make the most of what we have tonight, even if it is in this village of evil under a sky with no moon. These are ill times indeed when such coincidence happens.”
That was what had made it so dark outside. Keldron had been so overtaken by events that he had missed completely the fact that the moon had been gradually waning over the past several days, and had appeared to them only two nights previous as the merest of slivers in the night sky. He found all of a suddenly that he missed the long cloudless nights of Eskenberg his home where the moon shone like a beacon over the waters of Lake Eskebeth, turning the night into a vista of silvered magic and silent contemplation. The near-constant cloud cover almost made him lose his sense of direction. To console himself, Keldron decided that he would pick up a little something from the room back in Eskenberg. “If I cannot actually go home, I can return there in spirit, if but for a moment. Thank you for being patient with me, Yerdu.” Keldron moved to a part of the parlour where he was unencumbered by the relative crowding of bodies and furniture. He reached for his favourite focus stone, the old marble that he had possessed for so long now, and fed all of his concentration into it as he focussed.
Instantly, the pain from his arm reduced. In a split second he remembered the old cantankerous man that supposedly headed up his former guild; they spent their entire lives performing the most miserable of focuses so that they could live beyond their years. If the focus could lengthen their lives, then why could it not heal a wound? The very act of focussing benefited him in a way that those old men would never conceive. As he poured his awareness into the stone, he felt much better, and by the time his awareness was in that room hundreds of leagues away, he had forgotten that he had ever been injured. In his spirit form, he was a new person, hale and full of vigour. Even the woes and the ill feeling that emanated from the very air of the village his body was resting in seemed as if it was on another world, though as he looked back, there was something that nagged at him. It had never occurred to him that he would not bring his ills onto this plane of existence. Here and only here, he was as strong as his spirit allowed him to be, and that was the only limit. The revelation that came to him seemed suddenly a great deal more important than a mere object, and he hastened to accomplish his task. Locating what he needed from the hidden room, Keldron propelled himself by force of will back to his body, excited by the prospect of what his discovery could mean to him and his friends, but found himself going in a different direction. Keldron arrived in the cell of his master, to find him waiting there patiently.
“How did you do that?”
“Simple, if you know how.”
“You look better,” Keldron observed.
“I feel well again, my son. Hearken to me, and keep the knowledge safe until you feel the time is right to impart it unto others. You are about to make a grand discovery, Keldron, one that has implications beyond anything you have previously learned. You were onto the secret just before you came here. Look at your arm when you get back: It will be healed.”
“What do you mean, master? Are you all right?”
“I am fine, now go.”
Keldron's eyes snapped open, and he fumbled with bandages in one hand, and a bottle of their very own-spiced brandy that they had at some time in the past called 'orit' in the hand of his injured arm. Yerdu saw what he was suddenly doing, and lurched towards him, her face full of concern. “Do not do that, Keldron! You will only injure yourself further. The burn must be left alone or it will not heal.”
“Take it off, quickly.” Keldron was so excited he nearly dropped the bottle.
“Don't be stupid, wizard. You will damage your arm beyond all repair.”
“Take the bandage off.” The authority in his voice was slow and deliberate.
Confused by this sudden change, Yerdu complied with not a comment. Her frown and pursed lips clearly said that she was less than pleased with this course of action, though she undid the bandage as gently as she was able to. As she unwrapped the final strip, Yerdu let out a gasp that showed she was clearly not expecting what she saw. “Sweet Ilia.” She swore, invoking the name of the Earth Goddess that watched over them in the forest of Merdon. Keldron knew what had happened, but still he turned his arm to look at the results. The red angry burn with its weeping edges and cracks had diminished considerably, leaving a healed scab with scarred skin around it.
“The pain is all gone.” The skin bore clear evidence of a recent wound, but from the difficult view that he had of his twisted arm, Keldron saw that it looked freshly healed. All of a sudden, Keldron found himself twisted and bent over so that Yerdu and Joleen could get a look at the until-recently wounded arm. They were thorough in their examination, and Keldron felt more then uncomfortable bent in an awkward position with his head almost down by his knee.
“What is this?” Came the quiet exclamation of Belyn's voice as he entered the parlour. “A threesome? Why wasn't I invited?” Even bent nearly double, Keldron still managed to laugh as Yerdu leapt up and punched Belyn in the stomach as a response, almost doubling the big man over.
Her dark eyes flashing, Yerdu directed Belyn towards the place in the parlour where Keldron was now acutely aware of how ridiculous he looked, and also of how much his back was going to need straightening out. “Look at that, you comedian, and tell us what you think.”
Belyn peered at Keldron's arm, forcing him to endure more moments of agony. “Oh my.” Was all his big friend managed to get out before Keldron stood up, rubbing at one now-uncomfortable side of his ribs. “Ahhhhhh,” he sighed in clearly evident relief. Keldron glared at the other three in the room. “Next time you lot can stand and look where it suits me.”
“Looks like we might not have a next time judging by your little miracle.” The normally strepitant Belyn replied. “Care to tell us about how you preformed your little act of healing?”
Keldron bent his arm. Whereas earlier the burn had almost prevented him from being able to mo
ve his arm through pain and stiffness, now there was most definitely a lissome quality. He revelled in having the use of his arm back, and reached almost without thinking to scratch at the edges of the scab. “Well you know how all the old politicians spent their best days striving to merely exist within the dusty halls of our old home?” Belyn nodded, eager to hear any findings associated with a focus. “Well I found that…Ow!” Keldron stopped scratching at the scab as Yerdu firmly smacked his hand away.
“It is not healed yet, wizard, and spell or no spell, you will let me treat this arm, if not quite as often as earlier.”
Keldron laughed. “Yes ma'am,” he replied. “Anyway, the old codgers used the power of focussing to prolong their lives. I focussed to Eskenberg for a little light relief.” At this, he held up a flask of the brandy, bringing a smile to his friend's face. “When I returned, I felt different, and my arm confirmed this.” He stood up, and grabbed his friend by the shoulders, to the annoyance of Yerdu, who was in the process of trying to re-tie the bandage. “Belyn, the very process of the focus aided my body in healing my arm. It was if there was some sort of positive residual feedback into my body from the focus.”
Belyn took one look at Keldron, and then did something completely unexpected. He raised his hands to his face in anguish “Ah! How could it have ever been so blindingly obvious and yet so impossible?” He crouched, bending his body in an almost foetal position, and then before anybody could react, he drove himself at the door towards the yard. He hit it head first, with predictable results. Slumping semi-conscious to the ground with a cut along his brow the width of one hand dripping blood down his face, Belyn wheezed a chuckle. “ I have a bit of a headache,” he said to nobody in particular. Then he grabbed at a focus stone from one of the many pockets secreted about his robes, and concentrated. Keldron felt the enormous will of Belyn building, magnified by the stone in his hand, one of the same ilk that Keldron had just utilised. The pressure in the room was immense, though only Keldron could feel it. The two women looked on in horror, and then dawning amazement as the blood stopped dripping. The cut sealed itself up from left to right; the flesh of his forehead disappearing under newly repaired skin. Soon the scab reduced to a thin white line, and eventually that too disappeared. A flask of orit popped into existence next to Keldron as he felt the power of Belyn's focus dissipate. Belyn sat up with a start. He moved his head slightly, tilting it from side to side in inquisitive movements that were more akin to a small wild bird, and which looked oddly comical to be seen coming from a big man with a red beard. “Amazing.” He breathed in wonder. “I would never have guessed that it would be so simple.” He looked at Keldron, who leaned forwards to offer an arm to his friend. Pulling himself up, he continued to scan inside himself for some injury. “I hit that door frame as hard as I could, and yet I am fine. Who would have thought it? Those old fogies sitting there in their musty den, holding the secret to eternal life in their pockets.”
The Path of Dreams (The Tome of Law Book 2) Page 8
