Good Blood

by Billy Ketch Allen

No one spoke for a while. They just stared at the unlit logs. Ara’s heart tightened inside his chest. For a few times over the past days, he’d forgotten their troubles. He’d felt some semblance of home. Now, their time together had come to an end.

  21

  The caravan traveled the road at a slow pace that matched their somber mood. Cambria was glad the truth had come out. But she felt a surprising sense of guilt to be abandoning these men. At first, she had been happy to be rid of them and the danger they brought to her people, but as the wagons pushed east, she began to feel the gravity of their situation. They were leaving them to fight the Faith on their own.

  “Don’t look so glum, Cambria,” Aaron said. “Everything will be okay. We’ll make it to the next town by nightfall. Then this will all be over.”

  “I’m not worried about us, Aaron,” she said. “We’re not the ones being hunted.”

  “We are as long as they’re with us.”

  Cambria looked out the back flap to the wagon that carried Ara, Briton, and Geyer. Hannah now rode with Aaron and Cambria in the first wagon. She was busy sewing—something Cambria couldn’t remember seeing her do before. Even with the shaking wagon, the needle punched in and out of the red fabric with precision.

  “There are plenty of people that need help in this world,” Aaron said. “Think of all the good we can do if we aren’t locked away in some Temple dungeon for the rest of our lives.”

  “The decision has been made,” Hannah said. “All we can do now is wish them the best.”

  That’s not all we can do, Cambria thought. But she did not say it out loud. In fact, she didn’t know where this sudden concern for the strangers had come from. She was the one who unmasked them and caused their departure. Maybe that is why she felt guilty.

  It was late afternoon and Cambria must have dozed off because Petar’s voice startled her. The horses slowed, and the wagon came to a stop. Had they reached the town so soon before nightfall?

  Cambria pulled back the front flap of the wagon’s canvas. Two men stood in the middle of the road. They were shirtless and frail; ribs protruding through a thin layer of tanned skin. Their hands were locked in front of them by metal bands, and a chain tied them together at the waist from belt to belt. Ropes stretched from leather bands around their necks to a cart behind them, blocking the road. The two men stared ahead with lifeless eyes. Their sullen faces were marked with tattoos. The letters “CH.”

  Descendants.

  “Hello, there,” Petar called, confused. “Good health and peace be with…”

  The bushes shook in every direction. Then shouts and the sound of footsteps hitting the road. Lots of feet. It was an ambush. Cambria’s hands began to shake. She tightened them into fists and moved to stand, but Hannah pulled her down shutting the canvas flap. She held Cambria’s arm and shook her head no.

  “Hello yourself,” a man’s voice called.

  Cambria couldn’t see how many there were, but it sounded like the wagons were surrounded. She shook Hannah away and peeked her head out of the wagon. A man held a bow, the arrow nocked and facing down.

  “Any trouble?” Petar asked, his voice shaky.

  “There doesn’t have to be,” the man said. “Tell us what’s in the wagons.”

  “Supplies. We’re doctors. We’re here to help people.”

  “Well, then you’re in the right place. Because we are in need of some help.”

  “What’s wrong with them?” Petar asked. Cambria looked again to the two Descendants tied up and blocking the way. Their faces were void of reaction, like they weren’t even there.

  “Oh, the blood bags?” The man laughed. “They don’t need any help. They’re resilient little roaches. No, we just keep them around because we like our blood fresh from the source. No, I think you can help us.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Everything you got.”

  The back of the wagon was thrown open. A large bearded man peered in. He smiled hungrily as he laid eyes on Hannah and Cambria. “Oooh, he was holding out on us.”

  The man grabbed Cambria by the leg and ripped her from the wagon. The ground hit like a rock to the head. Dazed, she spat dirt from her mouth. She heard two more thumps and Hannah and Aaron were beside her.

  “No! Stop!” Petar’s cries were cut short by a sick thud, and he groaned as he hit the ground himself.

  “What’s the matter big man?” someone asked. “You got something to say?”

  Cambria rolled over. Brim was down from the second wagon, standing in the road his fists clenched. Uncertain. He was surrounded by armed men.

  “Whoa,” said a man with a sword. “You’re a big son of a bitch, ain’t ya? Gunther, I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.”

  From the other side of the wagon, a man let fly an arrow. It struck Brim with a sick thwack, sinking into his shoulder and knocking him to a knee.

  “Ho! You see that giant take that?”

  Brim pulled himself up to his feet. He hobbled towards Cambria and the others, an arrow jutting from his slumped shoulder.

  “Don’t think he got your message, Gunther.”

  The bowman drew another arrow and took aim at Brim’s back.

  “Noooo,” Cambria screamed through a dry and dusty mouth.

  Thwack. The arrow lodged into Brim’s hamstring, forcing him down.

  “Tough son of a bitch,” said the man with the sword. “He didn’t even make a sound.” He spun his sword in his hand and moved towards Brim. “Let’s see if a little steel will get him to sing.”

  Cambria’s heart dropped. She couldn’t breathe as she watched the violence unfold before her.

  Sword in hand, the man moved towards Brim. A mocking smile filled his face. The other bandits laughed.

  Dirty and bleeding, Brim crawled on, his leg dangling uselessly behind him. He didn’t even look at the approaching sword. He just kept moving towards Cambria. To protect them.

  “No, please,” Hannah said. “Please.”

  But there was nothing she could do. There was no time. The man stood over Brim. “Let’s see you walk this one off.” He raised his sword high overhead. “Timber!”

  But before he could deliver the blow, the man jerked sideways, off balance. He dropped his sword and fell to his knees. He reached behind him towards the knife jutting from the base of his neck. Then he slumped over dead.

  “Flin!” one of the bandits yelled.

  All the eyes turned from the dead body to the back wagon.

  Geyer was already pulling a second knife from his boot.

  “Kill that bastard!”

  Geyer lodged the second knife deep into a nearby bandit’s chest. The man wheezed and grabbed at the blade. He pulled it out. A mistake. Blood and air fountained from his chest. He fell to the dirt and drowned in his own blood. Briton ran for his horse, dragging his lame left leg in the dirt.

  The bowman drew an arrow from his quiver. He took aim as Geyer pulled his sword from the saddle. He had a clear shot. But Brim grabbed the man’s ankle, pulling his leg out from under him. The shot went into the trees. Brim pulled the man down and was on top of him with all his weight, pounding his head into the ground.

  Geyer pulled his sword from the horse and slid behind the wagon.

  “Kill them!” shouted a bandit. “Kill them all!”

  Cambria looked around at the six remaining men. Beside her, the bearded man grabbed Aaron by the hair and pulled a small hatchet from his belt. Aaron screamed as his head was yanked back, exposing his neck.

  Before Cambria could think, she was on her feet and running. She leaped at the bearded man. But he batted her way with the elbow of his hatchet arm. She hit the ground but did not falter. Her hand went for the blade in her belt, then it went for the man’s heel cord. She severed the tendon with a quick stroke. The man howled in pain and crumbled, grabbing at the back of his bloody ankle.

  Cambria felt sick, watching the man writhe in pain. But there was no time. She grabbed the hatchet.r />
  “Quick, under the wagon,” she yelled. Hannah, Aaron, and Petar did as she said and crawled for cover.

  Behind her, Cambria heard screams and clanging of metal. Ara was in the middle of the road. He swung his knife, trying to fight off an advancing swordsman. It was clear he was outmatched and wouldn’t last long. None of them would.

  This is not going well, Ara thought as he deflected another of the man’s blows. The bandit was bigger and stronger, and the last blow of his heavy sword had nearly shattered Ara’s knife. Not going well at all.

  Ara had followed Geyer out of the wagon, despite Briton’s warnings. At first, Geyer had said to let the bandits rob them and be on their way. But they shot Brim. Then they were going to kill him. Geyer was out of the wagon a moment later, and by the time Ara followed, two bandits were already dead.

  “Remember your training,” Geyer said as he went for his sword. That’s when everything went crazy. Brim attacked the bowman, and even Cambria started fighting back. Ara drew his own knife just in time to block the attacks of this bandit. But whatever training there was for him to remember wasn’t going to be enough.

  The man swung again. Ara ducked under the attack but lost his footing, stumbling to the ground. He rolled away, keeping the knife tight to his body so as not to stab himself. The man yelled and swung his sword, hitting the side of the wagon as Ara rolled underneath. Ara continued the motion and came out the other side. He got to his feet. He may not be able to outfight these bandits, but maybe he could outrun them.

  Ahead of him, Geyer stood over another bandit’s body. Two more charged his way. Geyer spun his sword in his hand as if refreshing himself with the feel of the weapon. After all this time, the old knight better remember how to use his sword.

  The men closed in and Geyer set his feet in a balanced stance. Patient. He held his ground as the bandits drew near. Too close, Ara thought. There was nowhere to retreat. Then Geyer’s sword slashed through the air in two quick strokes, and the men fell dead. Ara had never seen the old knight move like that. It wasn’t the speed so much as the smooth efficiency. It looked more like a painter’s brush stroke than the wielding of a heavy weapon.

  “Ara!” Briton cried from behind him.

  Ara turned in time to see the bandit coming around the wagon with his sword raised. No time to run. Ara lifted the knife behind him and threw his arm forward at the charging man. The man ducked his head and raised his sword to block the throw. But the knife never came. Ara had held onto the blade. The man lifted his head in confusion as Ara charged. He dug the blade into the man’s belly.

  A cry of pain filled his ears as the bandit fell. His hands slid around his wet belly, trying to stop the blood pouring from him. He cursed. Blood bubbling from his mouth.

  Ara turned from the sight.

  The chaotic sounds of the melee had subsided. Now there were only the groans of pain. Bodies littered the road. Dead or well on their way.

  Ara ran past them towards the first wagon. He stopped alongside Geyer. One bandit remained. And he had a knife to Cambria’s throat.

  “It’s over,” Geyer said, lowering his sword; the blade was stained crimson. “Let the girl go.”

  “You killed my men,” the man growled at Geyer, spit flying from his mouth. His face red with hate.

  Geyer shook his head. “The choice was always yours.”

  “As is cutting her throat.”

  Ara rushed forward.

  “Stop, or she dies!” the bandit screamed. Cambria winced as the man drew the blade tighter to her throat.

  “Cambria,” Hannah cried. She and the other doctors crawled out from under the first wagon. They were alive.

  “Geyer, please, do something,” Petar pleaded as he got to his feet.

  “Everything is going to be alright,” Geyer said, keeping his voice calm but never taking his eyes off the armed bandit.

  “No, it isn’t,” the man said, stepping back with Cambria in his grasp.

  “What do you want?”

  “I want you to die.”

  “Then let the girl go, and I’ll give you that chance.”

  “I saw you fight, swordsman. No, I think I’ll take this little girl with me instead. Follow us and she dies.”

  Ara’s mind raced for an answer. What did he need to do? How could he save Cambria’s life?

  Every problem has a solution.

  “Don’t do it, please,” Briton said from behind Ara. “There’s been enough needless bloodshed already. Let the girl go, and you can have your life.”

  The man looked around. His men were dead in the road; the ambush had failed miserably. Now he was surrounded. His eyes grew wild like a trapped animal.

  “You’re not taking the girl,” Geyer said.

  “Stay back,” the bandit jerked Cambria’s head back. Her red hair matted against the man’s sweaty face.

  “Stop,” Ara said. He raised his hand as if a warning would end the standoff. He needed time to think. To come up with a plan. Even if Geyer had the aim to hit the man with his knife, he couldn’t get to the bandit before he slit Cambria’s throat.

  What is the answer?

  The bandit took another step back, he was almost to the bushes. Geyer stepped forward, keeping the distance between them short.

  “I’ll kill her,” the bandit said. He twisted to keep Cambria between him and Geyer.

  “Cambria!” Hannah called from behind them. Petar caught his wife and held her back.

  Think! Ara felt the blood pumping in his temples, wracking his brain. Cambria wasn’t going to die. No matter what happened here, he wouldn’t let that happen.

  Then Cambria’s eyes met his and locked on, pleading. No—trusting.

  “Ara,” she winced.

  “Cambria,” he answered.

  “What you say you can do…is it true?”

  “Shut up!” the bandit yelled, drawing the knife so tight it cut her skin. A tear of blood ran down her neck. “She’s coming with me.”

  Ara’s eyes stayed with Cambria’s. He nodded his answer. Trust me.

  “Geyer,” Ara said.

  Geyer stepped forward. “You sure?”

  The bandit stopped. He looked back and forth between them, confused. Trying to figure out what he’d missed.

  Ara breathed, feeling the blood pumping from his heart. Good blood. “Do it,” he said.

  Geyer leaped forward with such speed Ara thought he might make it before the surprised bandit could react. But the Bandit did react. His eyes went wide, and the knife jerked in his hand. Geyer drove his sword into the bandit’s heart, killing him instantly.

  Cambria spun away, knocked free from the dead bandit’s grasp. She hovered in the road, frozen for a moment, her green eyes searching Ara’s. Then they rolled up into her head and blood streamed from her neck as her throat opened. Her small body slunk to the ground.

  22

  There was a moment of complete silence as Cambria’s body hit the ground. Ara felt his own heart stop. Then the reality of what just happened set in. Screams followed.

  “Noooo!” Petar yelled, running to her.

  “Cambria!” cried Hannah.

  Geyer pulled the sword from the dead bandit’s body. “Hurry, stop the bleeding.”

  Petar put his hand over Cambria’s neck. She gurgled blood. “The wound’s too deep,” Petar said. He tried to dam the flow; blood covered his hands. “Oh, Cambria.”

  “Just seal the wound!” Geyer yelled.

  Petar looked up at Geyer, then Ara. He nodded. “Aaron, get my bag. Hurry.”

  Aaron jumped into the wagon and came out a moment later with a leather satchel. Hannah ran to Petar’s side and tore her sleeve and held it to Cambria’s neck as they laid her on her back.

  “There’s too much blood, I can’t see,” Petar said, pulling out his needle and thread.

  “You can do it,” Hannah said. She poured out a water skin onto the wound and Petar went to work stitching.

  I don’t know if this is
going to work, Ara thought. What if she’s already dead?

  It didn’t matter now. He had to try.

  Ara picked up a knife off the ground and wiped the blood off on his pants. Then he rolled up his sleeve.

  Geyer grabbed the empty water skin from Hannah and came to Ara’s side. “How much will she need?”

  “I don’t know,” Ara said. He touched the blade to his wrist and cut vertically up his arm. “Ahhh,” he winced.

  “What are you doing?” Aaron cried.

  Ara held his wrist over the water skin and squeezed. His blood flowed down into the skin. As it filled up, the familiar nausea returned and Ara’s head grew light. He felt like he was back at Castle Carmine as his strength poured out of him.

  “That’s enough,” Geyer said.

  “No,” Ara said, squeezing his numb arm. “I can do more.”

  “Ara.”

  “Just a little more.” His grip loosened on his wrist. He struggled to hold on. Spots of blackness formed in his vision. “Have to…save…Cambria.”

  “It’s done,” Petar said. “The wound is sealed. But she lost too much blood.”

  “Save…Cambria.” Ara stumbled back. Darkness took over. He collapsed to the ground.

  Their masters were dead. For years Dais Mald watched their masters rob travelers on the forest road. Watched them kill and rape. These ones had seemed easy targets. Tied to the cart blocking the road, Dais Mald was ready to watch them die. But instead, the travelers had cut their masters down.

  The man in green with the yellow hair and beard knew what he was doing. He handled a sword like no dry blood Dais Mald had ever seen. He cut through their masters as if batting away the attacks of children. The big man who Gunther shot had got him in the end, pounding his brains all over the road. And even the young girl had cut Barum, crippled him. The bearded man had the wits to crawl off into the woods on his injured leg as the fight turned against them. Dais Mald pictured him hobbling through the forest this very moment, in pain and afraid. The tables finally turned.

  It gave Dais Mald much satisfaction to watch each one of them die like the dogs they were. But it was what happened after the fight that surprised Dais Mald the most. Before Jamison died, he had killed the young girl.