by Blink, Bob
“You are certain these men can be trusted?”
“Yes, as much as can be certain with men such as these. But in this case the men selected have performed services for me in the past. In each case they have been rewarded handsomely and they will want to retain the possibility of future opportunities. I trust their wish for coin even more than their word.”
“We do not know how it will happen?” Rhog asked.
“That will depend on circumstances. Action will be taken when the proper situation develops.”
“Until we hear we just have to wait patiently,” Rhog agreed softly.
Bishop Orano nodded his agreement. “It will be many weeks before we can expect word. The journey is long, and even a swift rider carrying word will take time. In the meantime, we must continue to act normally.”
At the same time as Rhog had watched happily as his brother marched out of the fortress, across the courtyard on the opposite side of the massive gates, Mos’pera, the beautiful Ny’ild wife of Rhory watched as her husband departed. She stood close to King Rupermore who also watched as his son rode away. In her case the departure was one of great sadness, for it would be far too long before she would feel his warm embrace once again. Her mind was in turmoil because she knew things that no one else did. There was no logical way to explain what she knew, and had not spoken to anyone, including her husband because the thoughts were so poorly formed that they were nearly impossible to articulate.
She knew there were those who plotted against her husband. She was aware of at least two men, although their identities so far had remained elusive. Attempts would be made against Rhory while he was away from the castle, but she was reassured that they would fail. He would face fierce battles and several opponents, but he would persevere. Had she any doubts otherwise, she would have broke her silence and warned him. That she said nothing was traceable to her mother who had warned her this day would come, and that any revelations she made must be done with great care. The wrong words, hints of what might lie in the future, could trigger a chain of events that would alter what was to happen. Since she was certain that nothing would befall her husband, she had chosen not to speak of the matter. As she grew in ability and understood her gift better, she would know how to proceed in the future. This too her mother had told her.
Mos’pera was two months pregnant with their first child, a girl she was quite certain. It was another reason she hated to see her husband ride away. She would have welcomed his presence during the trying months ahead. She had her loyal servants to take care of her, two of which stood back several paces behind her. They would have to be enough until Rhory returned to her in the fall.
It was the pregnancy that had triggered her ability. She had been warned by her mother that this would be the time if it were to happen at all. Among her people, one in a hundred gained the gift at this time in their life. In her family the percentage had always been somewhat higher than this, but the chances for her had always been small. Her mother had explained to her if she were blessed with the gift she would most likely be one of extraordinary power. Both her mother and her father shared the gift. It was almost unheard of for a male to have the ability, and the daughter of such a pairing would more than likely be unique. She would have to send word, carefully of course, to her mother. Mos’pera was certain her mother would come. There was much she needed to learn.
The presence of the gift was held close, and since the numbers of her people were so small to begin with, those who actually held the ability were few. Those who developed the talent were trained not to reveal who they were, but over the years rumors and betrayals had lead to folklore that her people were gifted with the ability to foretell. Nothing was ever said to confirm or challenge the belief, and many came to disbelieve the possibility that the Ny’ild were any different than anyone else.
Mos’pera raised her hand and waved at her husband’s retreating figure as he became a small dot in the distance. Then she turned and waved at the crowds below, earning a spreading cheer as the commoners below acknowledged her wave. She and her husband were favorites among the people of Sulen. From them she had nothing to fear. Somehow she needed to unravel the secret of who wished her spouse harm. She felt a momentary concern for the King. She was suddenly certain the same people wished the King himself ill, although that threat seemed less immediate and specific. It was maddening to have these revelations, and not know what they meant. Part of her wanted to rush over to the aging leader and tell him what she sensed, but that would be pointless until she had specifics to support her prophecy. She knew she would appear foolish were she to approach the King with such ill-defined feelings. The King was one of those who held no belief in such powers as hers. Her fears would be chalked up against her pregnancy, especially since she could point to no one as the individual behind the plots.
As the last of the riders cleared the gates below, the King signaled it was time to go. Mos’pera stepped back from the stone wall and motioned to her servants that she was ready to go back inside.
King Rupermore had watched as his son Rhory disappeared into the distance. He was proud of his son, yet he felt as any parent might seeing his favorite child, yes his favorite despite the fact he was supposed to cherish all of his progeny equally, ride into danger. Rhory would make a fine king one of these days. Sadly, it was important that he expose himself to danger and fight battles such as those he would soon encounter. It was always this way, and the outcome had not always been what one might hope. But the people would lose faith and respect for a leader who hid behind others. As the heir to the kingdom, he would be expected to lead his men into battle, take the same risks as them, and to be strong and skilled enough to survive. If he could not do that, then perhaps he wasn’t destined to be king.
King Rupermore knew such beliefs were sheer nonsense. War and battle were such a disorganized affair that even the best could get killed by sheer random chance. A stray arrow or a lucky swing of the sword could cut down his son even if he hadn’t been targeted. In the days he had fought, twice he had almost met his death. Luck, and the sacrifices of the brave men around him had saved him both times. He had sent some of his best men to watch over his son, and could only hope that it was enough.
Rhory, of course, had been eager to go. He’d been that way once, before he’d seen what such battles were really like. When he returned, Risos protect him, he’d have matured and learned the cost of such encounters. Sadly the wars were sometimes necessary. The borders and people had to be protected. He had to know if the rumored threats of a Lopal invasion were true. That’s why the people chose a king, and failing the people, he would rightfully lose their allegiance. He just wished it could be different.
His bones told him that Lopal was indeed contemplating a move. The conditions were ripe for it. That’s why he had sent the envoy to Kellmore to discuss a marriage. Branid would need Kellmore on its side if hostilities were to break out. Kellmore would need Branid as well. Fortunately, the two kings saw the matter in a like manner, and the offer had been well received. A royal marriage would bring the peoples of the two lands together behind the couple and ensure a common purpose. Now if only he could resolve matters with his daughter Mydra.
The fool girl had learned somehow that Awll, the elder son of Kellmore’s King, was mentally stunted. Rupermore had known of the condition even before his emissary was dispatched to suggest the marriage. That minor affliction had nothing to do with the real matter at hand. It could even work in her favor. She had always been an independent young woman. If her husband became king, she would be in a position to rule from the shadows. That should have been enough to encourage her. Such a situation could bode well for Rupermore also, having his offspring functionally in charge of Kellmore. She could take any number of lovers once she was married. But the cursed woman was balking at the proposal.
It might have been different if the chosen groom had been the middle son, Briz. Briz was not nearly so handsome, but at twenty-four was closer
in age to Mydra and was apparently very sharp. Two issues prevented a marriage between Briz and Mydra. First of all, the Kellmore King wasn’t particularly fond of Briz. He was certain his wife, and the mother of the three sons, who was now fifty-two and suffering her own form of dementia, had taken a lover years earlier which had produced the boy. There was no other explanation why the young man bore no resemblance to any other member of the family. It was okay for him to take lovers, but the wife of the ruler should be above that. The King wasn’t about to allow the results of his wife’s infidelity to have a chance at the Throne as long as there was any other alternative. None of this would have mattered to a royal marriage, since it wasn’t necessary for Mydra to marry the future king, just one of the sons, but Briz had married just months earlier. The only remaining son was Neip, who was a mere fourteen years old. Rupermore had considered offering Hegha, his youngest at seventeen, to Neip as an alternate. The ages were skewed, but in royal match-ups such things were often ignored. It was the political statement that mattered after all. Hegha’s mother and his current wife had threatened castration should he pursue such a course. Given the wildness displayed by young Hegha, it was probably a bad idea anyway. Why was he saddled with such unreasonable women?
Mydra had been so angry with her father she had refused to be present for the ceremonies today and had sent him a very worrisome message. Mydra admitted to an affair, not too shocking he’d decided, but she also claimed to be with child, which could be a bit of a problem. Annoyed, he hurried back into the castle to see what he could learn. At least his sons gave him no trouble. Rhog had been on the ramparts and cheering his brother onward just as he should.
Chapter 23
“She’s in no shape to tell us how she got here,” Kaler remarked looking at the festering wound that covered the entire side of the petite young woman. “I guess we need to get her some help right away.”
“I’m not so sure that would be a good idea,” Rigo said disagreeing with his friend.
“Why not?” asked a surprised Kaler.
“Her wound has taken a while to get that bad and she apparently hasn’t turned to anyone for help. That suggests she had a reason to stay hidden. It must be very important to her not to be exposed to the authorities. How did she get such a wound? It looks to me as if someone shot her with an arrow. It’s likely she is being sought just as we are. She carries all those knives for a reason. Revealing her now might have consequences we can’t foresee.”
Kaler thought about it and then looked back at the unconscious girl. “She’s going to die if something isn’t done. She’ll probably die anyway. Whatever she is hiding from can’t be worth risking death.”
“You’ve seen infections before. What are the chances of curing one?”
“Not good,” Kaler admitted. “Usually you have to catch it very early. Either that or amputate the affected limb so it can’t continue to spread. Of course, in this case an amputation wouldn’t be possible.”
“There’s another matter to consider,” Rigo continued as he nodded his agreement. “What about us? Bringing the girl to the attention of the captain is going to generate a lot of interest in us. He’s going to want to know if we’re connected to her in some way. Why would she have chosen our stateroom? Should we be put off the boat just in case? Our carefully planned getaway is going to fall apart. It’ll probably mean the Duke’s men will learn about us.”
“So you’re suggesting that we should just let her die to ensure our own safety?”
“No, I’m not. But I think we have to be careful here. There might be another way. Let me have a closer look.”
Kaler stood and backed away making room for Rigo who knelt beside the feverish young woman. He pulled back the upper garment exposing the wound once again. It looked even worse now that he was closer. The best medical man in the world wasn’t going to be able to do much for her.
“Maybe I can do something,” Rigo said at long last.
“I thought you couldn’t use your ability to cure illness?”
“I can’t. But I can use it to kill. I can probably kill the infection. Any healing will have to be done by her, however.”
“What are you waiting for. It doesn’t look like she can last too much longer.”
Rigo adjusted his position, laid the staff across his bent knees and rested his forearms on the staff. He let his hands wander over to the site of the wound and when his palms were half a hand’s width from the woman a bright greenish glow burst forth forming a growing ball that spread until the area of the external infection was covered. The glow pulsed and flickered slightly and the young woman groaned softly in response to the forces at work on her. Suddenly multiple glowing green filaments of brightly colored light spread out from the area of the wound, crisscrossing her body under the skin. Some of the larger filaments plunged out of sight into the core of her central torso, while other quickly flowed along arms and legs and even up her neck.
“What’s happening?” Kaler asked seeing the glowing filaments encircling the young woman.
“I don’t know,” Rigo replied. “I think the magic is chasing down the infection inside her.”
“You don’t know? How come you don’t know?”
“I’ve never done this before,” Rigo explained.
“This is the first time you’ve tried this? How do you know you’re not killing her?”
“It feels right. I’m sure this will help although I can’t be certain it’ll be enough.”
Kaler watched transfixed as the magic did its work. Suddenly the glowing filaments winked out, and then almost as fast the glowing ball under Rigo’s palms began to fade.
“That’s it,” Rigo said. “I’ve done all I can.”
The area of the wound and infection looked different now. It was still an angry red, but the foul smelling pus was gone leaving behind a very large and deep cauterized wound that covered the entire area. Rigo was in the process of closing her shirt when he lashed out with a ball of controlled fire to burn the remnants of the blood and pus that covered the inside of her clothing. The ash that was all that remained he brushed away, then gently closed the garment. The woman’s face and arms were bathed in sweat and she was still warm to the touch.
“Is she still alive?” Kaler asked.
Rigo felt for a pulse and nodded. “I think she is a bit stronger. I gave her a bit of endurance while I was killing the infection.”
“You gave her what?”
“I could tell how weak she was. I used the magic to increase her ability to fight back and heal. Hopefully it’ll help.”
“How could you do that?”
Rigo shrugged. “I don’t know. It just seemed easy enough at the time. A lot of what I can do I don’t really understand how. It just happens when I want it.”
“Now what do we do?” Kaler asked looking at the comatose woman at their feet, concerned at Rigo’s obvious lack of understanding of what he was doing.
“Let’s move her to one of the beds. I think we should cool her down with water soaked towels and see if we can get a few drops of moisture into her. She probably hasn’t had anything to drink in some time.”
Carefully they picked her up and carried her to the bed closest to the porthole that supplied fresh air to the small room. Kaler used his knife to cut up one of his old shirts. They soaked the strips in water from their water skin and applied them to her forehead. Rigo wiped down the arms and then using the last of the clean strips dribbled drops of water onto her lips. Most simply slid off the cracked lips, but a few passed between.
“She’s already cooler,” Rigo said. “We’ll just have to watch her and keep trying to get liquids into her. Maybe if she seems better we can get some broth from the galley when we go for meals.”
While they had been seeing to the woman, the boat had made its departure and they were now more than a mile down the river, the village out of sight behind them. They stayed in the cabin most of the time, going out only for meals, during which times t
hey were alert to anyone watching them. It appeared that they had gotten away cleanly.
By the time nightfall arrived, it was apparent the young woman was improving. Her temperature was still above normal, but the intense fever she had had when they found her was gone. She appeared to be sleeping now rather than being unconscious, which Rigo took to be a good sign. They had dripped a few drops of stew broth thinned with water into her mouth. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
For the next day and a half they tended her, gradually increasing the amounts of liquid she was given. Twice she appeared on the verge of waking up, once opening her eyes briefly. The effort was too much for her and she quickly dropped off again. Then, on the third day, Rigo returned with his cloth saturated with water that he intended to place against her lips, to find a pair of deep violet eyes watching him guardedly.
“Where . . ?” she croaked, her voice breaking after the single word.
“Where are you?” Rigo said, finishing her question. “You’re on a boat headed down the Great Central River. We found you in our cabin. You were in a bad way. The infection is gone, but you have a long way to go yet.”
“Gone . . ?” she asked in another single word question.
“It appears to be so. You have been getting slowly stronger the past couple of days.”
“Who . . ?”
“We’re just a couple of travelers headed south.”
“We?”
“My friend is outside at the moment getting food. He’ll be back in a while.”
“Why have you . . ?”
Rigo smiled. “It appears that we’re in somewhat the same situation. We are running away from an unfortunate situation much as it seems you must be. Perhaps when you are well we can swap stories.”
Rigo noted her eyes became guarded and she tried to move her hands to check her side. It was more than she could manage. She stopped trying after a few moments.
