Fire and Thorn

by Mary Vee

  The man asked, “Do you feel better, Gilbert?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” He had no pain. If it weren’t for wanting to sleep, he’d hike the trail.

  “Then it’s time for you to return. You will continue to suffer from your injuries, but if you remain faithful, you will be healed.”

  “I’ll try my best. If I fail, will you help me?”

  “Yes. Ask me for help any time.” The field faded and the familiar sounds of the squire’s chattering made sense in his mind.

  “Steward. Come quickly. I saw him blink,” a male said.

  “You did?” The steward’s larger hands pressed on Gilbert’s bedding. “I don’t see him moving. Where are the bandages and herbs? Has anyone fetched the water yet?”

  Material somewhere afar flapped in the wind. “I have the herbs and bandages,” Katia said. “Daniel and Jonathon ran for the water. They should be back soon.”

  “I’m sorry, Katia,” said the steward. “This whole battle was too much. I should have helped more.”

  “We felt his heart beating, remember? The Great King will heal him in due time.”

  The steward sniffed. “There must have been something I could have done to lessen his injuries.” He sighed.

  Despite the gentle care given to Gilbert, every nerve, every muscle, every limb screamed pain. Visitors whispered near him, but he couldn’t understand the soft words. Someone set a wet cloth on his head. Next, water dripped into his mouth. He swallowed.

  He couldn’t tell how much time had passed before he could open his eyes. When he did, he saw squires staring at him. “Where am I?”

  Sybil smiled. “He’s awake.” She tucked the blanket closer to his chin. “You’re in your tent, sire.”

  “Is the dragon dead?”

  “Yes, sire, it broke your fall. You landed on its belly. A soft landing meant for a king.”

  The steward chuckled. “How ironic. The very creature that tried to kill you, served as a tool to cushion your landing.”

  “What happened to the spies?”

  Justin clapped his hands together and laughed. “Dead. So dead. The dragon flattened them like a bug squashed by a hay wagon.”

  “Oh, I remember now,” said Gilbert.

  “Do you know what I discovered, sire?”

  Gilbert fought to keep his eyes from closing. “What’s that, Justin?”

  “This dragon had a scar on its belly. It must have been the same one we battled back at the river.”

  Gilbert tried to turn on his side. “That’s nice. Oooooo. My back hurts as if hot coals had burned me.”

  Sybil placed her hand on the king’s shoulder. “Those are wounds from the dragon’s claws. Katia cleaned out the poisons, and the steward applied herbs to help the open sores heal. Each day you’ll feel a little less pain.”

  The severe pain pounced through to his bones. He winced. It felt like flames from a lit torch touched his back. “How are Ben and Charles?”

  “They’re getting better.”

  The steward wiped his hands on his clothes and moved closer to Gilbert's bed. “Katia has been attending their wounds, sire.”

  “How badly were they hurt?”

  “Ben has some deep cuts and a broken arm. Charles has a head injury and deep cuts. They’ve made a game of seeing who can heal faster.”

  Gilbert laughed then cringed from the burning rifling through him. “Sounds like them.”

  The steward slid his hand under the king’s neck. “Drink some water, sire.”

  “Thank you.” The refreshing drink soothed his throat.

  Daniel removed the cloth from the king’s head. He dipped it in fresh water and placed it back on him. “Do you feel up to a question, sire?”

  Gilbert appreciated the distraction from his pain. “Yes.”

  “Why did you lower your head when the dragon held you? We thought you were dead.”

  “I might ask you the same question, Daniel.”

  “What do you mean, sire?”

  “After everyone spent their last arrow, you all knelt then lowered your heads.”

  “You saw us, sire?”

  “Yes.”

  Daniel smiled. “Ahhh, I see. You poke to the Great King like we did.”

  Gilbert yawned. His eyes closed. “We all have learned to ask for help.”

  The king fought the sleep his body wanted but lost. He slept the rest of the day and the whole night too. He woke to a light shining through his tent. The steward was in the corner preparing herbs. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Oh, you’re awake, sire. Very good.” He wiped his hands on his clothing and approached the bed. “You’ve been asleep since yesterday. Here, drink this while I update you.”

  Gilbert sipped the nasty tasting brew, wrinkled his nose, and sealed his lips before the steward could give him more.

  “I understand this isn’t the castle’s cuisine, sire, however, I’m forced to make you drink this potion by command of our resident healer, Katia.”

  The bitter taste still coated his tongue. He’d rather face another dragon than drink more of the concoction. He swallowed remnants of the nasty potion and conceded. “All right, Steward, but only because she said so.”

  “Thank you, sire.” The steward rolled his eyes and tipped more of the medicine into Gilbert's mouth. “I placed Squire Jonathon in charge of the camp.”

  Gilbert choked on the last sip. He coughed a few times then managed a cleansing breath. “Jonathon? Why him?”

  “Because he complained the most, sire.”

  Gilbert laughed then winced from the movement. “What else have you done in my absence?”

  “We’ve managed to survive the past days in the desert, sire. Not that we’d want to build a large mansion and move the kingdom here, but we’ve survived the extreme heat and frigid cold. Thanks to Katia’s hunting skills, we’ve scrounged up sufficient food and water.”

  Gilbert rolled onto his back and held his breath to keep from crying out. It seemed as if a hundred knives pierced his skin. “That’s wonderful news. Now that we have the Rose of Sharon, we should go home.”

  “I agree. Sybil has taken command of making a litter for you and a device to help Ben’s and Charles’s ride more comfortable. She reported to me this very morning that she’d located materials and should have the project completed by the end of today. We could leave first thing in the morning if you’re well enough.”

  “No. We should leave the moment she’s finished. Traveling at night when the air is cool will be easier.” Gilbert opened his right hand. The rose was gone. He lifted the blanket and looked where he’d left it. He pushed himself up on his elbows and scanned the tent. “Where’s the Rose? I had it in my hand and now it’s gone.”

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  “Sire, calm yourself.” The steward pointed to a flask. “The Rose is here, in this water. See?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” Gilbert rested his head back on the bedding. Searing pain surged in his back. More than he could tolerate. “Is there more pain medicine?”

  “Not if we want to make it last until we return home.”

  “Then we should depart right away.” Gilbert struggled to sit up. “Help me walk to the fire pit.”

  “Can I get something for you? You should rest, sire.”

  He pushed himself toward the end of the bed. “Look, I intend to talk with my team with or without your help.” He shifted one leg and cried out in pain.

  “In your condition, sire? I don’t think so.”

  “My condition doesn’t matter. The tent is too small for everyone to squeeze in here. Take me to my team. Now. This is urgent.”

  The steward gently wrapped the king’s arm over his shoulder and helped him up to stand.

  Gilbert squeezed his fists fighting the agony. He sucked in a deep breath and hobbled, with help, to the campfire.

  Justin dropped the sticks he’d gathered and called out to the others, “Come help. The king is up and moving.” Sybil, Jonathon,
and Daniel ran out of Ben’s tent and offered to carry Gilbert the rest of the way.

  “No, thank you. I want to walk on my own two legs.”

  “Are you sure you should be out here, sire?”

  “I’m well enough, thank you, Sybil.” The steward slowly lowered the king onto a log with a fairly flat surface. Gilbert shifted side to side but found no comfort.

  Ben and Charles walked out of their tent. Bandages covered Ben’s arm and also Charles’s head. Ben plopped down on a log. “Are we having a party, sire? I hope I was invited. Let’s see, for pain and suffering endured during a battle, I would like presents, privileges, and pomp.”

  Charles laughed. “Stand in line. I’m first.”

  “Let’s not be hasty, sahib. You’ll knock your bandage turban off.” Ben touched Charles’s head with his good arm.

  “I’m glad you approve of the bandages, Sir Ben.” Katia sneaked up behind him and sat down. “However, his two healthy arms could easily take your one arm in a match.”

  Ben rubbed his sore arm. “That’s true.”

  “If I may interrupt,” said Gilbert. They instantly hushed. “It would be nice to take a few more days to heal before tackling the mountain and the rest of the journey back home, but Aerlis is dying. The people need us.” He inhaled deeply and held the breath before releasing the air. If only the fire in his back would ease. “May I have a drink?”

  Katia quickly poured water and brought it to him. He sipped slowly. Each swallow stirred the pain. “Thank you.” He set the flask on the log next to where he sat. “Break camp. As soon as this meeting ends. We’re leaving for Aerlis.” Gilbert's voice unexpectedly croaked. He cleared his throat. “Dragons, like the one we faced, torment our kingdom, our friends, and our loved ones. To the north, an army prepares to march against our kingdom. They will wipe out everything we hold dear. We’ve found what we came for. It’s time to help our friends and family.” Gilbert held out the flask with the Rose.

  “Where did you find it, sire?” asked Jonathon.

  “There.” Gilbert pointed. “On the right side of that large boulder.”

  The squires turned. “Where?” They stood and squinted in the direction he’d pointed. Daniel stretched up to his toes. “I don’t see a large boulder over there, sire.”

  The bright sun forced everyone to shade their eyes. Katia looked where the boulders had been. She craned her neck and looked again. “I don’t see them. The desert sunlight is disguising it.”

  Jonathan and Sybil walked a ways in the direction Katia said before returning. “It’s not there.”

  How could that be? “It was there. I climbed it.”

  “I was with him,” said Katia. “It was there.”

  Ben leaned near him and pressed his good arm on Gilbert's shoulder. “We believe you, sire.”

  Intense fire flared in his wounds. He raised his shoulders and winced. The trip home would be terribly uncomfortable, but the longer they waited to rescue Aerlis, the worse the kingdom would be. “Our first priority is to save our people, no matter how much we hurt. It’s time to restore our homeland with the Rose and reestablish the ways of the empire. Fill your containers with water from the mountain pool then break camp.”

  The squires grabbed every available container and left for the mountain pool.

  Gilbert rested by the fire. He looked at the view of the valley floor. Lightest cream and taupe shades blending into the deepest coffee. He sighed. “In a way, I’m sorry we have to leave.” An arid breeze playfully whisked smoke from the campfire into his face. “Can’t say I’d want to live here, but I’m glad I came.”

  “I agree, sire,” said the steward.

  By the time the squires sloshed back with overflowing flasks, the Steward had taken down all the tents. Gilbert called out jokingly, “You scrubbed off the blood stains and lost the mummy look from the battle while you were gone. Amazing.”

  The squires took a bow for the great performance.

  “And now, my loyal thespians, I will tell you the next act of this tale. In this scene, the setting is this camp. The action involves a speedy clearing and preparation for departure.”

  The squires looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

  “I knew you’d like my play. Ready? And action.” When they didn’t move right away, Gilbert turned to the steward. “Our players seem to lack the enthusiasm they gave in their last scene at the pool.”

  The steward bowed, “Duly noted, sire.” He pulled out his parchment and prepared to write.

  The actors sped to double time, turning the Greek cleaning tragedy into a comedy. Steward set his notes down and used the performance time to apply another dose of herbs to Gilbert's back. Katia left the fire and carried a cup to him. “Here, sire, this should ease your pain for the journey.”

  The squires lined up before the king when finished, wiped handfuls of desert sweat from their brows, and bowed for an expected applause. “Sorry, we have no encore to offer, sire.”

  Gilbert nodded. “Duly noted. Nice performance. Let’s go.” The medicine eased the pain enough for him to push up and stand on his own.

  Justin and Sybil boosted Ben and Charles up on their mounts. The last chore involved setting up the king’s litter mounted between two palfrey horses about the same height, one in front of the other. The steward supported one of Gilbert’s arms and Daniel helped with the other. They lifted him up and safely inside the litter.

  “I couldn’t find any material to close you inside, sire,” said Sybil.

  “No problem. I’d rather look at the countryside as much as possible.” He looked at his team. “I can’t lead in my condition. Steward, you will guide our return. Jonathon and Justin, the first duty of watching the litter will fall on you. Make sure it stays secured to the two horses. Jonathon, you ride the front horse. Justin, you follow. Daniel and Sybil will relieve you after a while. Katia, I hate to give you a duty since you work extra already, but I need you to guide Pokey. We can pack our personal satchels on her to ease our mounts. I’m also assigning you the duty of protecting the Rose.”

  Katia took the flask. “I’m happy to help, sire.”

  His team fell in line as he ordered and began the journey up the mountain. This time the path seemed completely different. It never seemed too steep, always plenty wide, and it had firm footing for the horses. The same spring bubbled, giving fresh and cool water for their flasks.

  At the top of the mountain, they chose not to rest for long in case the volcano threatened to erupt. Despite the short breaks, both the riders and horses remained amazingly energized. No one complained. Gilbert noticed that he, Ben, and Charles endured the four-day journey home better than expected.

  Deep inside, Gilbert felt happy. He had no explanation for the joy when burning pain prevented him from riding his own horse. The injury would heal in time, but Aerlis would have considerable damage from the dragons and thistles.

  Some citizens would still reject his kingship. These thoughts should make him sad and dejected. Yet, somehow he knew, in time, all would be restored to the way the emperor meant the kingdom to be.

  He leaned out of the litter. The castle came into view, sitting on a high hill in the distance. A sea of ugly thistles covered the land that once grew luscious green plants. He expected Aerlis would have problems but not this severe.

  Peasants ran from their fields and cramped little homes toward the riders, pressing into the road and the caravan. They did not cheer or welcome the team home. They spit at them and the king not knowing what had been done on the quest. The litter bounced side to side, flaring intense stabbing pain in Gilbert’s back. He closed his eyes, enduring the torment as best he could.

  Jonathon dropped back and rode next to the litter. He looked at the king. “Why don’t you show them the Rose?”

  Gilbert winced. “Seeing that I have the Rose is not enough. They need to see this treasure from the Valley of Sharon planted in Aerlis soil. Give this message to our team: Invite every person along
this road to the grand ceremony welcoming the king’s return at the East Gate. All are welcome no matter their station.”

  “I will, sire, but I have a feeling the people won’t like it.”

  “I don’t think they will either, but it’s the message they’d expect. No matter how mad they are, they’ll be curious enough to come and listen to what happened on our quest.”

  The squires, the steward, and Katia did as Gilbert ordered, shouting the news of the grand ceremony.

  The citizens raised their fists and shouted, “How dare he ride in a litter. King Cyrus never exalted himself so selfishly. He’ll mistreat us. We’d be better off moving to Malum.” They ran inside their homes and brought others to chant cruel words. “That’s him all right. Look, King Gilbert rides in a litter carried by the horses. He dishonors his family and Aerlis.”

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  The closer they rode to the city gates, the thicker the crowds grew. Gilbert looked at the angry people and saw a woman with two children. She smiled at him and bowed. “Elizabeth,” he said. She looked healthy. Her children weren’t as scrawny as when he last saw them, and their cheeks looked rosy. Their clothes weren’t torn. He waved at her and almost asked the squires to stop the litter.

  Before he said more, two women ran up to her and grabbed her by the arms. “Don’t you realize what you’re doing? He’s ruining Aerlis. Don’t give him your support. Here, dear, I know you’re new. Come with us. We’ll protect you.”

  She looked back at Gilbert, flashed a brief smile then allowed the women to pull her away.

  “Elizabeth,” Gilbert whispered. “Give me a chance.”

  Droves of angry citizens marched along the route. Their voices rose and fell like the waves of the sea. Jonathon dropped back and rode alongside the litter. “Are you sure you don’t want to show them the Rose, sire? Maybe they’ll calm down. I’m concerned they’ll try to kill you and maybe us too if you don’t do something.”

  “No. I need to do this right. They won’t believe I’ve changed unless we complete the quest. The Rose must be placed at the East Gate to show the world Aerlis is a follower of the way and the laws set down in the sacred book, just as my grandfather, Uncle Roland, and my father did.”